tahanann

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒….

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 14: " Promise. " ✎▫✧⭒…

It's been a few months since the last letter. Days have been getting significantly better and (Y/n) seldom had gloomy days. The young woman's mental health has improved gradually over the passing days. She was well enough to stop going through therapy, but she still made a few calls here and there for monthly checkups. She's hanging out with her friends more often. Her home didn't feel as cold as it did before. These changes were welcomed into her life after a devasting year in her home.

The most significant change is that she never thought about Jones anymore. 

After reading the last letter, he no longer crossed (Y/n)'s mind. The letters stayed tucked in her drawers for quite some time before she donated them to a local museum. She didn't think it could be easy to give him up so easily, but after therapy, she had enough strength to let him go. 

But she saved one letter from him. It was one of his firsts; from the time when everything seemed bright for both of them. It's a memory that (Y/n) liked to cherish. They were both new to their surroundings at the time and they didn't worry about anything. She'd often read the letter at night, reminiscing the first few months with the soldier.

He made her feel vulnerable but loved. 

She knew that in order to fully let him go, she needed to discard the letter she kept, but she couldn't find the heart to. Deep down, she knew she still loved him just as much as he indirectly loved her.

(Y/n) wanted to experience what she went through in the earlier months. To be loved wholeheartedly by a man who was so willing to give her the world. The young woman was never religious herself, but if there was a higher being that looked down upon them, she prayed that someone like Jones would come into her life. She was never an active seeker of love, however, as she thought it'd be impossible to love someone like her. 

The young woman still thought of herself as crazy after falling in love with a person through letters alone. Who could love her if they knew what she went through? Maybe, she thought, someone forgiving and understanding, but she wasn't so sure. 

She'd let life run its course and wait for a day when she'll find someone to love. 

Today was Saturday, the start of (Y/n)'s paid week off. The company she worked for shut down for the holidays, allowing workers to meet with family and get some rest. Though their work isn't too strenuous, most people appreciate the week-long break. Before it started there had been a party at her work and people were given gifts. (Y/n) sat in her living room holding one of the gifts she's gotten from her work friends. Felicia's face was on her phone's screen, eager to watch her open the gift.

"Come on-" the Italian whined, "You're gonna open mine last?!"

"I'm saving the best for last, you know," (Y/n) smiled, "I have to open the one from Francine first and then from Gilbert." The young woman didn't have that many gifts. Most people were allowed only one gift, but some of her work friends decided to give her extra. They were aware of how things were with her over the past year. (Y/n) hoped that they didn't gift to her out of pity. 

The (h/c)-haired woman grabbed a gift wrapped in an extravagant purple wrapping. Francine signed her gift with a heart and a kiss. She didn't think much of it because it was in Francine's character to send gifts off like this. She delicately unwrapped the present and pulled out the contents of the box. It held a letter, a rather expensive-looking bag, and a bottle of perfume. 

(Y/n) looked confused with the gift. She didn't recognize any designer brands as she wasn't too big on fashion. She glanced at Felicia for a little bit of help.

"Oh!" Felicia gasped, "That's the newest Chanel bag and perfume! You're lucky! Those are really expensive." The brunette moved closer to her phone as if that would help her. She asked to be put near the bags so she can look at the design and the texture of it. Felicia and Francine were known in the company as the fashionistas, as they loved having designer items. 

(Y/n) watched her friend ogle the bag and whine. She went on ahead to read Francine's letter. It was mostly a greeting and an invitation almost. Francine told her in the letter she was welcomed to come to France with her for the holidays if she ever felt lonely. The young woman appreciated it, but decided not to.

As she read the letter, things such as "I wish I had that bag," and "I bet that perfume smells good," were heard. The young woman glanced at her gifted bag and perfume and tilted her head to the side. "Do you want it, Felicia?" she'd ask.

"Oh no, you can keep those, (Y/n)! You deserve it much more than me, bella," Felicia grinned, "Besides, I can probably buy those myself after the holidays end. They'll definitely drop prices after December."

The answer made the (h/c)-haired woman smile. Sometimes, she forgets how rich Felicia is. From her fancy car to her large home, it's hard to imagine she works in the same company. 

Feels almost like a downgrade. Like Felicia should be working somewhere higher in the world. 

Pushing Francine's gift aside, (Y/n) grabbed Gilbert's gift. As she unwrapped the present, Felicia asked a question, which seemed out of the blue. "Do you- you know- still think about him? Wasn't it around this time of year when things got worse for you guys?" 

The young woman knew what her friend was talking about. "Have you been meaning to ask me that?"

"Yeah- It's been in my head for some time now and I didn't know when to ask. I didn't know when you'll be comfortable, so I didn't really ask earlier. I'm sorry if it's so out of place of me to ask, (Y/n)."

"You're okay, Felicia." There was a smile on (Y/n)'s face. "I don't think about him that much anymore. Ever since I sent his letters to the curators at the museum, I haven't really thought about him. I'd like to think that we both moved on from whatever happened back there."

The mention of we meant something, but Felicia didn't understand what. 

Felicia wasn't there when she read the letter when the apparitions started appearing. She couldn't have known what was happening between (Y/n) and the dead soldier. The Italian would let it go, though, not wanting to press further. She was afraid that she might invoke some type of emotion. 

The young women chatted as (Y/n) grabbed the gift from its box. It was a handcrafted wooden mouse. It had a scarf around it, as well as a few other ornaments. Gilbert didn't seem like a crafty guy, but sometimes people just have surprising hobbies. The (h/c)-haired woman normally never got any gift from him during this time of year.

The greeting card that accompanied the mouse would tell her why.

"Oh-" (Y/n) laughed. Felicia arched a brow and put her face closer to the camera.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I think it's funny that Gil decided to give me such a belated thank-you gift. I worked on his papers a few months back while he was on emergency leave. I guess he thought it was the right time to give me something like this. It's a cute-looking mouse though. Even has its own name at the bottom."

"It just says maus though. Isn't that german for mouse?"

"Is it?" (Y/n) laughed, "I'll give them a name later, then. I'll text you the name when I get the chance."

Putting the wooden mouse down, (Y/n) glanced at the final gift. It was Felicia's. The Italian squeaked when she saw her friend grab the box, which was quite big compared to the others. She couldn't shake it because of its size, but it was certainly heavy. She had to stand up to open this gift. 

Ripping the tape and fancy wrapping paper off, (all thanks to the encouragement of Felicia in the background), (Y/n) pulled out something she's been meaning to get for herself. There was also a note inside that talked about how much Felicia enjoyed and appreciated her company over the years. The young woman stared in amazement and smiled at her friend. "You really shouldn't have, Feli," the (h/c)-haired woman grinned. "This is wonderful."

"I knew you'd like it! You've been talking to me about that for a few months now! I figured I'd give it to you during the holiday party. I would have given it to you sooner, but I had a few other gifts that I wanted to give out first."

"You really didn't have to do this for me. I could have bought this myself."

"I beat you to it first!" 

The women giggled together. When their laughter stopped, they chatted for a few moments. (Y/n) looked over her presents and hummed softly. Felicia was in the background rambling about her holiday plans. She planned on going back to Italy to visit her grandfather. A notification ping grabbed (Y/n)'s attention.

Putting her wooden mouse down, she read the message she got. It was from Matthew. "Hold on Feli. Matthew just texted me." She could hear her friend sing a short "okay" in response. (Y/n) looked at the messages he sent her. She couldn't help but smile at them. 

"Hey, do you wanna help me buy some things for my family? You just have to come with me and all that stuff. I just need help picking out what to get for each of them," Matthew's text read. She can't pass an opportunity to hang out with her neighbor, so of course, she said yes. The Canadian would then send her a short thank you and a few pictures of Kuma. 

(Y/n) then continued the conversation with Felicia. She'd fill her in on Matthew's request, before talking about other things. Their call ended rather late, with Felicia stopping by at (Y/n) home to take her out for dinner at a restaurant. (Y/n) appreciated the free meal, surely, but she promised to pay her back eventually. Her night ended on a good note, with Felicia giving her a long, goodbye hug, before departing for the night. 

The (h/c)-haired woman walked back into her home and lingered in the darkness for a moment. Ever since the first time she's done this, it's become increasingly hard to shake off the habit. There was a part of her that wanted to see something in the darkness. She missed the dead soldier's company and she hated to admit it.

Her (e/c) eyes looked into the darkness, trying to find that speck of green again. But nothing ever came up. Not even the chill that used to cover her home. It was warm in her home and everything was dark. (Y/n) would eventually flick the lights open and get herself ready to go to sleep. 

Once she was in her bed, she'd do her old routine at night. (Y/n) stared at the dark ceiling above her and watched her cells swim in the void. She still searched for traces of him, even though she knew that he was long gone. She harbored hope, but that was useless. She needed to accept the truth. She needed that part of her to die down already so she can move on. 

It was hard, but she think she can make it. She'll need to before she could fully search for the love she yearns for every day. 

The young woman would eventually fall asleep. She didn't hold any expectations for tomorrow, knowing that it'd just be like the other hangouts she's had with Matthew.

The morning arrived a few hours later, with the sun shining brightly in the sky. (Y/n) woke up earlier than expected. She'd walk to the bathroom and tidy her appearance. She didn't linger in the bathroom any longer. 

She'd get herself dressed for today's hangout. Afterward, she'd sit at her bed, with her (e/c) eyes looking at the drawer that used to house Jones' letters. She pulled out the one she saved for herself and read it. She's read it so many times while she healed her wounds. She almost knew it word for word.

"Good morning Jones," she'd tell him as she smiled. She no longer asked if he was doing well.

Good morning babe! Guess what we got for ourselves today? We got a few books from this bookstore that surprisingly had some stuff in them. Of course, we had already finished clearing the place up before we explore the bookstore. Our commanding officer doesn't know that me and the boys snuck to the place and grabbed a few books there. It's honestly surprising that we never actually got caught! Don't tell my commanding officer that I snuck into a bookstore.  I dunno how you will, if you tried, but please please please don't. He would kill me!  But anyway, I got a few books that I figured would be great reads! They're in another language. I dunno what it is. It looks Italian. I don't speak Italian but it has pictures! Don't shame me for picking up picture books because I am not going to try and learn this language. I think it'd be kinda useless you know because I won't be talking to Italians here.  There are a few soldiers in my squad though that can speak it. I heard Charles earlier talking to one of them and asking them to translate the words that he didn't understand. He learned Italian during college so I'm not really surprised that he picked up books that had more words than pictures. He called me a child for picking up the children's books, but that doesn't matter. As long as I can enjoy them, then I'm all good.  Course, I have a few books that came from home. I brought them along with me. I have a few excerpts of my favorite books in my journal actually. I have the ones that I thought were pretty cool to bring with me! They were mostly from the bookstore we met at before I went to war. You know the one. The one at the campus store.  I wonder if you're reading something from there too! I don't remember if you were much of a reader, but I do remember getting a book for you because it was on a higher shelf. Not saying that you're tiny, babe! It's just that you definitely looked like you were struggling to grab the one on the highest shelf. I don't know why the librarians thought it was a good idea to put books up there, but hey, I mean I'm a little grateful for it. Because I got to meet you! Do you still have the book I grabbed for you at that time? Do you ever still read it? I hope you are because the book you picked up was good! I remember telling you that I've already read it and all that. Even gave you my honest opinion when you asked.  Keep me posted on any books that you pick up. I'd love to find a copy of them somewhere here. I doubt I'll ever find one, though, but hey, I'll maybe give the book a look once I come home. I'll write to you later, babe! Sincerely, your super cool, awesome husband-to-be, A. F. J

Reading how lighthearted the letters used to be made (Y/n) envy her former self. She didn't know what was in store for her back then. She was blissfully unaware of the effects Alfred's letters would do on her. She missed it all, really, but it's already passed. (Y/n) knew she couldn't dwell in the past for much longer. Her therapist advised her to keep going and not mourn the losses she's had. 

But it wouldn't be that bad to indulge herself every once in a while.

(Y/n) placed it back in the envelope and tucked it in the inner corners of her drawer. After that, she'd get a call from Matthew. He was apparently already at her door, with his car parked in her driveway. The young woman told him that she'd be down in a minute. She'd grab her essentials before making her way to Matthew's car. 

They'd exchange the usual greetings as they got themselves comfortable. (Y/n) made sure that she was secure in her seat before turning her attention to her Canadian friend. They were already on the road when he started talking.

"My cousin said he was gonna come along with me because he misses me. He isn't free any other day so I decided why not have him over to help with buying gifts." Matthew's tone showed that he initially didn't like having his cousin over with him, but sort of felt pity for him. "I haven't seen him in a while anyway, so I guess this hangout makes up for the time we haven't chatted or played games together."

The blonde connected his eyes with his friend for a moment. "Are you okay with him being there?"

"Yeah- I see no problem in it, really," (Y/n) mumbled. "I mean I think it'd be a great moment to meet your cousin, finally. I wanna know what he's really like since you talk and complain about him a lot."

"I'm not- Okay maybe I do complain about him, but- I don't know if you'll really like him. He did kind of want to meet you for some time because I do mention you from time to time, but I don't know. He can be out of control sometimes- and he's super loud. I don't want you to get super stressed out since you're- you know-"

"I talk with Felicia almost every day, Mattie, I think I can handle your cousin. I appreciate the worry though. Thank you."

Matthew nodded his head and sent a smile. "He should be there already but knowing him, he probably wants me to find him." (Y/n) could hear a sigh come from her friend. "I doubt he'll make it easy. I'm not going to be playing his game anyway. I'm just going to make him find us."

The drive to the mall was relatively quiet after that. Music played in the car as (Y/n) looked at the passing scenery. She found people getting ready for the holidays and getting last-minute preparations. Once they had parked the car in an available parking space, they were ready to go. (Y/n) made sure she had her things before closing the passenger door. 

Matthew was immediate to her side, but he looked down at his phone to read an onslaught of messages from his cousin. "I wish he'd stop spamming me," she heard him mutter under his breath. There was a quick frown on his face, but it was replaced with a smile once he looked at her. "Let's get going. We can drop by the bookstore first since I need to get something for my dad."

(Y/n) nodded her head, smiling. "I'm okay with that. I think I need a few things from there too." 

The duo made their way inside the mall and into a cozy, busy bookstore. It was a major retailer in this shopping complex so it was huge, but it always felt cozy. Maybe it's the fact that it's a bookstore that made it so. The way books were stashed on shelves made it look like a library. There were chairs too that people could sit on. (Y/n) was thinking maybe she'd find a book she could read a few pages from and buy it for herself.

Though, there was a book her mother wanted her to get since she couldn't find it in other bookstores. (Y/n) was hoping that she'd find it here. She needed to get that first before she could start browsing. 

Matthew was beside her, still looking at his phone. This time though, he was looking in his notes app. He had a list of gifts he's been meaning to buy. (Y/n) was on that list, just above his cousin. He had his phone on do not disturb to block messages and calls. The Canadian needed to be focused on his shopping. His cousin was somewhat second in his mind.

Before they could proceed, Matthew stopped in his tracks, with (Y/n) soon following. "I need to use the restroom real quick. You can walk around the store if you want. Just know I'll send you a text so I can find you." The blonde sent her a smile before disappearing. The young woman was left by herself, standing in the middle of a busy bookstore. 

This gave her an opportunity to roam around and look for a book her mother's been meaning to read. (Y/n) walked around the different bookshelves, looking for a specific historical fictional novel. Finding herself in that section, her (e/c) eyes roamed around. She'd take a step back to look at the upper shelves and find the thing she was looking for. 

Just on the topmost shelf was the book. The young woman stood on her toes to try and grab it, but alas, it was barely out of reach. (Y/n) would stare at the book and think of ways to get to it. But before she could find a solution, someone beside her started talking.

"Hey, did you need any help with that?"

The (h/c)-haired woman looked to her side to find a blonde with shining blue eyes. Glasses sat atop his nose and his pale face held a gentle smile. Her heart seemed to drop at the sight of him. Immediately she was reminded of a man she loved a few months ago. His face was a one-to-one replica, almost. Might he be a clone? Might this be the same man who wrote the letters she found in her home? 

Has he truly found her again? He promised he would. 

Either way, his image made her want to cry, but she tried holding it together. She was in a public place and she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of people.

Though she was flabbergasted by his appearance, (Y/n) still managed to say "yes," to his question. The man reached over and grabbed the book for her. Before he could hand it to her, he observed it with a smile.

"Hey, you've got pretty good tastes! I've read this book before and it's actually super interesting," the stranger's grin grew, "if I remember correctly, the protagonist finds their love again after the war and they live happily together. I'm not personally super big on romance but this one was an expectation cuz there's still some action in there. I think it's a great read!" 

(Y/n) couldn't help but share the same smile he had on. They connected gazes for the moment. They both studied each other's features. Like a natural magnet, they were drawn to each other but they didn't know why. The young woman's eyes became glossy as stared at the stranger, who now looked very concerned but curious about her appearance. 

He didn't notice the tears accumulating in her eyes.

"Hey, have I seen you somewhere before?"

Before she could answer, she heard Matthew call out to her. The Canadian was huffing slightly but had a small smile on his face. "I was looking for you. You weren't answering your texts so I went to go look for you." The blonde looked at the stranger that accompanied his friend. "And- I see you've already met my cousin."

"Woah- no way! This is your friend, Mattie? That's hella cool! They've got good taste!" the blonde with blue eyes beamed a bright smile. The American looked at (Y/n). "I'm Alfred! You can call me Al or Alfred, whichever you prefer." 

Alfred? 

"I'm (Y/n). It's nice to meet you." There were still tears in her eyes but she did her best to keep them from spilling. He extended a hand for her to shake, which she accepted. The warmth of his hand made her want to cry. She was standing in front of a replica of Jones, almost. 

Does he know? How could he know- He just met her.

Matthew seemed to notice the troubling emotions his friend was getting. He was immediate to her side and had a rather protective demeanor when talking to his cousin. He suspected something happened, but (Y/n) told him that she was just slightly overwhelmed by the crowd in the bookstore. 

It was a lie, but she needed Matthew to relax.

They all started walking, with (Y/n) sticking beside her friend. Alfred was there but held a bit of distance. She felt his stares on her occasionally, and they'd lock glances for a few seconds. Her mind was grinding its gears trying to figure out if she was dreaming everything. She'd often pinch herself and find that she wasn't dreaming. 

This was real; as real as it can get. 

They'd eat lunch together and talk. (Y/n) and Alfred got to know each other more and found that he liked the same things that Jones did. He collected baseball cards and read comic books in his spare time. He even had a degree in economics, which he constantly complained about. Most of all, he liked playing baseball. It was something he often boasted about.

Though one difference is that Alfred never went to the military, but Jones did. She supposed in Jones' case, it was required. Alfred had a choice.

It was obvious that Alfred was already fond of her. The way he talked to her had a certain cadence that Matthew noticed. Usually, with strangers, his cousin had some sort of barrier, but he was so open about himself to her. The Canadian took notes and smiled. He liked the idea of his cousin and his friend getting along with each other.

Maybe they could all hang out together again.

The shopping trip was a success for the trio. They ended up going home in the evening. Alfred hitched a ride with Matthew and (Y/n), saying that he took a lift to get to the mall earlier. The blonde was sitting behind (Y/n). Through the side view mirrors, she couldn't help but stare at his sleeping form. His resemblance to the Jones' photo was uncanny. She studied his face again and her heart ached. 

Jones managed to appear in her mind again. 

Could it really be him?

(Y/n) quietly sighed to herself and averted her gaze away from Alfred. 

Eventually, they'd arrive at her home first. The stop of the engine made the American jolt up from his seat. He looked around and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "You literally live right across from Mattie. That's insane," Alfred mumbled. "I thought you'd live- like a block away from him." 

(Y/n) glanced at him and smiled. "Living across from each other makes hanging out more accessible, honestly." She moved to get out of the seat. The two blondes shadowed her movements and walked her to the front door. Matthew went in to hug his friend tightly and bid her good night. Alfred was standing still. His blue eyes studied the house (Y/n) lived in. 

Something was familiar with the home.

The young woman looked to Alfred as soon as Matthew stopped hugging her. They connected eyes for a moment and broke away once Matthew started talking. 

"We need to go."

"Can I stay with her for a few moments? I wanna give her my socials and my number."

Matthew stared at his cousin and nodded. "Ok- well you have to walk to the house then. It won't take long anyway. Just ring the doorbell and I'll open it." Alfred thanked him for giving him some time. He sent a wave and watched Matthew drive to his home. 

This left (Y/n) and Alfred standing. He looked at her house once more. "You've been pretty cool ya know," he told her as he smiled. His voice was much gentler with her now.

Every time she saw that her heart breaks a little. 

The American pulled out his phone and handed it to her. "You can put in any social media you have here and I'll follow you. You can also put in your number if you want."

(Y/n) stared at his phone and nodded her head. She pursed her lips together as she input her social media handles and her number. "Here-" she'd say as she handed him his device back. They'd glance at each other's eyes once more and linger for a moment. Their faces held a smile.

"It'd be cool if we can hang out again. I uh- I don't live that far from Mattie. I'm just a 20-minute drive away from him- so if you guys are hanging out, I'd love to tag along and stuff."

"If Mattie is willing, then yeah. Feel free to come along with us."

She could see his eyes brighten up just a bit. "Sweet!" she'd hear him say. "I'll uh- I'll start heading back now! It was really great to meet you. It'd be nice to see you again." Alfred send her an enthusiastic wave before he'd start running to his cousin's house. 

(Y/n) stood at her doorstep, watching him. They'd look back at each other again and they each sent a wave. Soon enough, he'd disappear inside Matthew's home. The young woman kept her gaze at her friend's door and smiled to herself. Her heart beats a somber tune as she stared. 

"If it's really you, darling, then you've done it, " (Y/n) sighed.

"You've found me."

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 13: " He's gone. " ✎▫✧⭒…

Everything in the world was still right now. The heat had recently swept through (Y/n)'s city, causing an overwhelming amount of warmth in the streets. A slight cold breeze had been a saving grace to the citizens having to deal with the current heatwave. Many people were in their homes or visiting malls to cool off. Lazing around was a popular activity for those who chose to stay in their homes.

(Y/n) was included in that bunch.

The young woman had been laying down on a picnic blanket underneath a tree in her backyard. The tree had been there ever since she's gotten this place and it was certainly a favorite of hers. The branches, with or without their leaves, gave her company whenever she had restless nights. It had been like a friend, who trudged through, giving the shadows that covered her from the moon's light. 

Her eyes stare up at the tree, watching little critters run around. Squirrels had made this tree their home. The sun's rays peeked through gaps between leaves, illuminating some of (Y/n)'s features.

Despite the radiance she received from the sun, she was as dull as ever. The young woman still struggled with her mental health but she took advice from her parents and close friends. She had to cave in because the days had been getting rather difficult to trudge through. With a bit of therapy and support from everyone, things have been much more bearable. 

Work was going smoother now and she was able to socialize as much as before. Felicia and Matthew had been giving her some food through their countless house visits over the past few weeks. Her separated parents found time to call her to check in after she told them about her struggles. They were caring, understanding, and kind. 

They had promised to look after her years ago and they were fulfilling it. 

It was safe to say that (Y/n) was surrounded by people that loved her, but the same can't be said for her love life. Her relationship with her main romantic interest was blurry right now. Her heart ached for a man who likely has a wife and grandchildren by now, but he was possibly not even alive anymore. Either way, the bridge she had built cannot even reach her destination. A restless fog had covered her sights for the end of the bridge. 

It was impossible to cross.

This relationship had been the main source of her misery and (Y/n) had been aware of it for so long. She always thought she could make it work and she fails to see that it has been steering in the wrong direction. The young woman devoted her love to a man that, she believed, loves her back. No one else but Matthew and Felicia knew about this. 

Thank god her parents didn't know. They'd tell her to fully detach herself from him, which seems like something she just can't do. She loved him too much and there was a lot to lose, seeing how her mental health hinges on the very thought of him.

Jones. 

(Y/n) shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. She cannot let herself get lost thinking about him again. Closing her eyes, she let out a sigh, before she opened them once more. The sun was still there, the sky was still as blue as ever, and the tree was still green and brown. She was still laying on a picnic blanket with containers of food surrounding her. 

Evidence of her picnic with Matthew earlier today. 

After a while of sky-watching, the young woman sits up. She pushes her hands through her hair as she adjusts to her new position. She blinked once, twice, three times, before continuing to push herself up to a stand. She gathered the remnants of today's activity and headed into her cold home. The backyard lays dormant for the rest of the afternoon, as (Y/n) once again cooped up in her house. 

The tv in the dark living room played noise in the background as she cooked dinner for one, with a little extra to be served as leftovers for tomorrow. The warm, orange light of the kitchen illuminates her form, but she remains cold always. The heat had left her home as soon as the sun disappeared. The temperature was deathly cold.

Her hands weren't shivering, but there was a chill pressed against her back, overseeing her chop vegetables and put them all in a pot. (Y/n) paid no mind to the presence, as she had been accustomed to it. The cold was always there, hugging her whenever possible. It lived here with her, almost like a partner, and she's grown to love it. 

As a matter of fact, she's always been in love with it. 

She only saw him once, but she always felt him. He was here, always stalking her during the night and disappearing for the morning. The moon energized him, (Y/n) believed), and she was fine with it. She supposed she could use the company.

(Y/n) hummed softly to herself as she finished cooking. It was done now and she could finally dine in the comfort of her living room. Wherever she went, the cold drifted alongside her. It sat beside her on the couch as she played something on the tv to keep her distracted from her thoughts. She ate her dinner, watched for a little while, and eventually went away to follow her usual nightly routine.

Afterward, she rested on her bed, her eyes staring at the abyss. The light of the moon seeped through the gaps between the leaves of the tree and the window, illuminating the area just a bit. It wasn't enough to keep the apparitions from appearing above her. 

Beside her was her phone, playing a random song to fill up the silence. Her (e/c) eyes continue to gaze at the darkness. She tried finding the sparkle of broken glasses again, though he did not appear. Not after that other night, after her dad's visit, did he appear again. The specter she wanted to believe was Jones never showed itself to her again. The ghosts that she saw tonight were the cells in her eyes, floating around in their liquid casing. 

Although she can't see him, she could feel him. The room is still as cold as ever, even if she had her blanket around her. There wasn't a hint of pressure beside her, but he was somewhere here. Watching her, protecting her, she'd liked to believe. The company didn't make her fall asleep, however. There was anxiety gnawing her insides. 

There were only two letters left in the box, and the decline Jones has been going through has not been bright. There were a few light-hearted letters but (Y/n) felt as if that was an attempt to make himself feel better. The war wasn't going well, or at least that's what Jones believed. (Y/n) feared that the last two letters will be anything but good news.

She had every right to think about it that way. 

Even if it was going to be good news, it'll end terribly for her. She'd lose him. The letters are all she had of the soldier.

The young woman continued to stare at the ceiling, letting her fears chew her insides. Eventually, through fatigue, she would fall into a deep sleep, only to wake early in the morning. The sun barely peeked through the horizon. The room was still cold, but only because of the morning chill that occupied her home. The presence that watched over her was gone. (Y/n) was truly alone in her room. 

The (h/c)-haired lady stayed in her room for a few hours, unmoving from her position. She'd pondered and imagined scenarios in her head to make her feel better. It distracted her from the gloom that came with opening the second to last letter. When she had enough energy, she stood up and proceeded with her morning routine. 

There, in the bathroom, she felt him. A cold spot was in the corner, and behind the shadows of her door, she saw a figure. The glint was barely visible, but she could make out his form. (Y/n) stared at the apparition, connecting eyes with him for a moment, before he would fade into the darkness of the shadow. From the mirror, she continued to maintain eye contact. Her body was unmoving, fearing if she did move, he would too. 

Her heart ached. 

"Come back, I want to see you," she'd say. This was the second time she'd see him. But the ghost wouldn't comply, for he had already expended energy to be slightly visible today. It may be that her eyes were just seeing things, but (Y/n) believed it was him. Her still body would eventually move to finish the rest of her routine. When she left, he'd appear within the darkness of her unlit bathroom. (Y/n) felt him move with her, just hovering around. 

She stared at the box that held the letters. The second one was sitting on her lap, ready to be opened, but her focus was on the last one that sat at the bottom of the box. Biting her lip, she turned her attention to the one already out of the container. She swallowed her emotions and ripped open the envelope. She didn't want to scan the letter.

It was all going to be the same.

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n)'s voice cracked at the mention of his name. "How are you feeling?"

She already knew the answer.

To my darling angel, The operation at the beach was a success, but unfortunately, angel, I'm heavily wounded. I don't think I have that much time to live and I'm okay with that, honestly. I've come to accept that my death is nearing. There's not that much for me to live for anyway. Alex...he's gone. He died the day we stormed the beach. He told me he was going to live but he immediately got shot the moment the ramp opened. It's only been a few days since I last saw him but his image is still burned into my memory. Him, along with the annoying thoughts continue to haunt me. I think death is the only way to get them out of there. I'm the only one left out of my friends anyway. Nobody at home will miss me too much. All my friends are dead because of me and I can't handle the guilt of it all. I can't. It's always been my fault. I've already told Ma and Pa about giving up. They tell me to keep living, but it's hard. I don't want to have them deal with me. I know by the time I come back home, I'm not going to have an easy life. I'm so fucked up, it'll be so hard for me to get accustomed to civilian life again. I'll have so many problems and I don't want Ma and Pa dealing with all of that. I'd rather just get rid of the problem and spare them the trouble. I would live for you but I think it'd be useless. You don't love me anymore. You don't even think about me anymore, so what's the point? You've already, probably, tossed the letter aside. But that's okay. I understand. I won't hold any grudges against you because I know it's hard to love me. If you ever live with me after the war, you'd have the same problems as Ma and Pa. Leaving would make everyone feel better. I'll still love you regardless, even in my dying breath, my angel, I'll still love you. I've always told myself that I'd be your protector, so maybe, if God is good and great, he'll let me. At night, I'll be there, to make sure you're safe and happy. Maybe I can watch over you. I'd forever be the moon to your stars, my darling. I've been in and out of consciousness, or so I've been told. I've been in this med-bay for a while now and I know I can't make it out of here alive. It's kind of funny. I've always wondered what it was like to have death at my doorstep. I thought he'd be cold and overbearing, but he's actually a pretty sweet guy and gives people warmth and comfort whenever they need it. I feel him everywhere in this warm medical bay. He's always been by my side, waiting for my time and I'm afraid that it's already nearing. He sits on my bed and watches over me like the nurses and doctors that tend to my wounds every day.  He's here with me right now while I'm writing this letter. He's telling me that I should write down everything I want to say to you. He's telling me to snap out of it though, but how can I? The very thought of you gives me comfort. Maybe one day, I will, but for as long as I breathe, I'll forever think about you. My vision is fading, baby. I pray to God he'll let me write to you once more. Just one more day, angel, and maybe another. I want to see you again in my dreams. Maybe he'll let me since I can sleep peacefully now. Forever yours, Jones

(Y/n) looked at the letter in her hands, resonating with his acceptance. Her hands tightly gripped the paper as she stared at his writing. It was messy in some parts, but he tried to be neat. There were tear stains on the aged paper. The young woman had a feeling that, even if he said he accepted death, there was a part of him that didn't want to go. He was still in his youth. He wanted to live but what he went through made it impossible for him. 

The (h/c)-haired woman doesn't know the extent of his injuries, but the way he put it, he was gravely wounded. Even if he could be honorably discharged, his wounds make living life impossible. (Y/n) hated having to think about him in this state, but that's all she had in her mind. The thought of him being confined to a bed all his life, drinking medicine to overcome the pain.

It hurt her.

Though, the thought of him dying too, hurt her just as much. 

(Y/n) placed the letter against her lips, giving him her usual send-off. "I pray for your recovery, Jones," the young woman would say. She knew the inevitable was coming, but she wanted to believe that he was able to change his mind and fight for his life. The last letter in the box might be proof that he's moved on from his beloved and he went on to live a long, prosperous life. 

Despair lingered around her as she tucked the piece of paper back into its envelope. She stared at the aged paper for a bit before hiding it in her drawer. She lingered at her bed for a moment, as she felt a presence surround her. She could only smile before she'd shed a tear and cry out the emotions in her chest. 

She'd muster her feelings at some point and put them all in a bottle for future use. (Y/n) left her bed, with her phone in her hand, and went to the bathroom to freshen up once more. She put on a bit of makeup and redness-correcting eyedrops to mask the fact that she ended up crying this morning. A notification ping echoed in the bathroom.

Matthew must be here. 

He organized another hang-out with her today because he said he was feeling "a bit lonely". (Y/n) knew it was just a way for him to check up on her. He was aware that they were coming up on the last few days of her obsession. He wanted to make sure that she can get out of this situation alive and well. With the way (Y/n)'s been acting, both of them knew that it'll end in an emotional spiral. Matthew wanted to be there for her when that happens. 

The young woman stared at her appearance in the mirror and tugged the corners of her lips to fabricate a smile. It was good enough to wear. She sent her friend a text saying that she was going to get ready. She changed her clothes, fixed her hair, and made her way out with her belongings at hand. Matthew was standing outside her door, holding his fluffy, white dog with the leash.

"Hey. There you are," Williams grinned as he sent a wave to his friend. "Come on. If we don't leave soon, the beach is gonna be filled with a ton of people and we won't have a spot for us." Kuma barked in agreement with his owner, causing (Y/n) to genuinely smile.

"I've already got my things so we can start heading out now." The young woman went over to the Canadian's car and placed her few things in the trunk. Kuma had already hopped onto the backseat, already secured and ready for the trip. (Y/n) rode shotgun with Matthew in the driver's seat. She was given the aux cord so she played whatever music interested her at the moment. 

The drive to the beach was long but comfortably quiet. Somewhere through the drive, (Y/n) managed to fall asleep. It may have been general fatigue that knocked her out, or maybe it was due to the crying session she had prior to the trip. Maybe it was simply a little bit of both. 

Matthew often looked to his side to check on his friend. His focus was on the road, sure, but when they were stopped at a light, he would take his glances. A sigh left him when he saw signs of what happened to her before he appeared at her door steps. Despite her going to therapy, it was still taking a toll on her. Matthew would know. He's been there before, though it wasn't as heavy hitting as hers. 

He's always pondered how she got here, but he never fully dwelled on the thought for too long. Many people have different ways of getting to that point. It would be hard for him to understand where she was. She was dealing with a tough situation and he was only going to be there to support her.

Not question her. 

The day was still relatively young when they arrived at the beach. It took them a while to get a parking spot but they were here. Just the two of them, at the beach. Other people were near the shore, like families and couples that took their afternoon strolls. (Y/n) sat around with Kuma as Matthew set up most of their things, from the umbrella to the cooler that held the snacks he prepared earlier today.

Kuma panted, feeling the heat warm him up. With a dog that had such a thick coat, he was barely surviving in this heat. What kept him going was the fan that had been pointed at his face. (Y/n) sat by the hound's side, staring at the clear blue water surrounding the grey beach. The sounds of people and the water comforted (Y/n), but there was a thought that stayed in her mind. 

Jones.

A few letters ago, he mentioned pretty beaches and how he's always wanted to visit one with his significant other. As she stared at the water that threatened to come by their towels, she thought of him and his wish. She wanted to fulfill that with him, but she wasn't his. She could be, in her mind, but in reality, she can't. 

Her eyes envisioned him with her. The image she's created of him may not be true to life, but this was her Jones. His glasses were pristine and his smile was stuck on his face. He wore his green uniform, his hat, and sparkling medals on his chest. He was with her and he was well. Though the image of him disappeared when Matthew called out to her.

"You're blanking out," the blonde told her. He sat in front of her, with his back turned toward the waves. "Here. I got some snacks from the cooler. I dunno if you've already eaten yet, but it'd be nice to have something for the stomach, you know." Matthew had a sweet smile on his face as he handed his friend the food he packed for today. (Y/n) stared at it and nodded her head.

"Thank you, Mattie." She'd take a bite and feel slightly better. She'd turn her gaze away to look at the spot Jones had been. Matthew noticed her look and did the same, finding no one near them, though he could find a couple playing in the water. Her eyes were still blank and it looked like she was having a hard time focusing on the moment.

"I know there's something on your mind, (Y/n)," Matthew confronted her. 

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

Matthew noticed the sign and decided to give up almost immediately. He'd wait for her to tell him. It's no use trying to pry open something that didn't want to be opened. He would sit next to his dog, Kuma, who was now laying down on the blankets. The fan that kept him cool was still whirring in front of him as he took his afternoon nap. 

The Canadian stared out to sea, watching the water crash onto the shore. (Y/n) was doing the same, except her eyes saw something different. Her beloved soldier was there, playing in the water, smiling at her. His speck of green stood out in the sea of blue.

She was seeing things. 

The duo shared the silence as they sat around. (Y/n) broke their peace by saying, "Did you know...the letters mentioned a beach." Matthew looked to his friend, his eyebrow arching, asking her to continue. 

"Jones...he wanted to go to the beach with his girlfriend," (Y/n) continued, "he was stationed at a beach when he wrote that letter. All he ever thought about was her, you know. It pains me a lot to think about it. How he might not even get to see her at a beach." The young woman hugged her legs, but her (e/c)-colored eyes continued to stare at the sea. 

"I opened another letter today. The second to last one." There was hesitance in her voice. "He's dying, Matthew. And I'm scared that the last letter- tomorrow's letter- might be his written will." The man she was talking to would continue to be silent so she could voice her thoughts. That's all she needed to do anyway, to make herself feel just a bit better.

"I don't want to lose him. You know this already. That last letter is going to be the death of me."

Matthew's periwinkle eyes stared at his friend as he listened to her. "You know you have to let him go eventually. You can't let some dead soldier hang onto you and break you like this, (Y/n)." He hated seeing her go through something as painful as this, especially since her pain is coming from a dead man. Matthew can't confront the dead. 

(Y/n) dipped her head and let out a muffled, "I know." Her heart broke just a bit when Matthew spoke to her. She knows he's right, but she's stubborn. She'll let Jones break her anyway. Matthew reached out to her and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her breaths becoming shallow. She was going to lose it. The blonde did his best to comfort her, through small rubs and pats on her shoulders. 

He'd help her with breathing exercises and they worked, for the most part. It's hard to get rid of her thoughts about Jones though. Matthew didn't know that the beach would have such an effect on her. He should have planned this outing better. A hum leaves the Canadian as he looked at his friend. The friends connected gazes and smiled at each other. 

"I'm okay," (Y/n) would tell him. They knew both she wasn't, but she was going to try and be better. Looking back at the sea, she'd spot the blue again. The speck of green was still there and the faint apparition of Jones lingered in the water. He no longer had a pristine uniform. Dried blood coated his haunting form and his glasses were cracked. She could never see his face but she always looked out for his smile. 

It wasn't there anymore.

(Y/n) stared at the figure in the water, before the wave crashed over him, making him disappear completely. The young woman's lips pursed together and forced a smile. She hasn't told anyone about the visions she's been seeing because she knew that people would think of her as insane. No one would believe her if she said she was being haunted by the object of her fascination.

They spent today's afternoon lazing around the shore under the umbrella and playing. They build sandcastles and buried each other under the sand to distract (Y/n) from her thoughts. At the end of it all, they walked Kuma down the shore, letting the heated pup wet his feet to cool down. Kuma ended up being drenched in seawater, which Matthew had to clean once they were home.

To say that the beach hangout was a success would be a lie, but (Y/n) enjoyed spending time with her friend, Matthew. The blonde walked her to her home and made sure to give her his usual send-off for the night. He gently wrapped his arms around her for an embrace and kept her close for a bit. (Y/n) relished the hug and laughed a little when she felt her friend squeeze her.

"Good night, Mattie," she would say.

"Good night, (Y/n)," he'd reply back. "I trust you. Please don't do anything bad."

"I won't."

The two friends drifted apart and sent each other their final waves for the night. (Y/n) disappeared inside her cold, dark home. She lingered in there for a moment with her eyes scanning her surroundings for a hint of green amongst the void. Nothing, per usual. She turned on the lights of her home and got ready for dinner and her nightly routine.

It was the same old. Nothing ever changed. 

The young woman would rest her head on her pillow and stare at the void that wrapped around her. She'd feel pressure at the foot of the bed, finding a glimpse of green. 

This is the third time- now.

He moved ever so slightly in the dark. His broken glasses gleamed underneath the moonlight. (Y/n) stared at him before she moved. Her hand met his bloodied fingers halfway and they lingered there.

He was cold, colder than her freezer, colder than the artic, but the smile he held was warm and comforting. The young woman couldn't tell if she was hallucinating things or if his apparition was truly there. He began to shift into a blur the more she stared at him. 

"Stay-" (Y/n)'s meek voice called out. His form could only smile.

Then he was gone. 

"No-" she'd whispered after. Her fingers curled into a fist as she hugged her legs. Tears swelled in her eyes as she cried. This night would leave her with no sleep, as her tears and thoughts kept her awake. There was no need to worry though. She doesn't have work for another day, anyway.

The sun would rob the moon's spotlight, filling the world with light. It would seep through the tree that hid (Y/n)'s window. The young woman was at her bed as still as a rock. Her eyes were unmoving, staring at the ceiling, and waiting for the day to pass. 

Today was the last day, then after that, no more letters. A year has passed already, but it didn't feel like it. 

She'd lose energy but she could never regain it. (Y/n) lacked the need to sleep as her mind was constantly busy. She'd move a limb, then another, until she's fully out of bed. She moved like the undead, trudging along her floor until she managed to limp to the bathroom. The darkness of it all gave her comfort. Her (e/c)-colored eyes looked for green but found nothing. 

With a sigh, she turned on her lights and continued what she would usually do in the morning. (Y/n) corrected the bags under her eyes and practiced smiling. She's been doing this for a while now and there hasn't been significant progress. She could never feel truly happy.

Approaching the final day made her more miserable. 

But unlike Jones, she has too much to live for. She needed to keep fighting whatever was bringing her down.

Once finished, she appeared in her bedroom again. (Y/n) looked at the spot she knew held the box. Her stare was intense and her body was as still as she could get. Anxiety filled her stomach immediately but she reached forward and opened it. 

The last letter sat comfortably in its spot, waiting to be opened. (Y/n) didn't want to, but she knew she had to. Biting her lip, she plucked it from the bottom. There was something odd about this one. It was heavier than the others. It threw the woman off, but she pushed forward and she gently ripped the envelope.

The letter had been folded neatly inside and there were a few souvenirs too. The young woman knew that the man enjoyed sending home gifts, but these were different. She opened the paper and found dog tags and a black and white photo. (Y/n) looked at the photograph first. 

There was a man posing for his photo. He appeared to have blonde hair and bright eyes with small, square glasses sitting atop his nose. His complexion was clear and pale but flushed cheeks. He had a gleaming smile that completed everything. He wore a dark uniform that held no badges or metals. The soldier was young, handsome, and didn't have a care in the world.

(Y/n) turned the photo around to find writing in pen that said, "Me! Send copies to Ma, Pa, and Mattie when able!" There was no mention of a feminine name anywhere, but that wasn't what she was hyper-fixated on right now. Her thoughts revolved around the idea that she can put a face to him now. Her heart jumped for joy, but at the same time, she brought herself down. 

This was the last letter. She can't envision him after this is over. The fact made her emotional, which was enough to put some tears in her eyes. She placed his photo down and looked at the dog tags that accompanied the letter. 

"Alfred F. Jones," she whispered. That was his name. Alongside it were numbers, his blood type, his religion, and another name, though this didn't seem like his girlfriend or anything. She was thinking it was his mother since it said "Mrs. F. Jones."

(Y/n) could be heard muttering his name over and over again. She still had the urge to call him Jones. Placing the memorabilia down, she turned her attention to the letter. It was pristine, but she finally noticed there were a few blood splotches on the edges. It's aged, dried blood, which was a cause of concern for her, but it didn't matter. 

None of it matters anymore. 

"Good morning, Alfred," she'd greet. It was much more personal now. "How are you doing, darling?" She'd try to make herself feel better, but the greeting caught her off guard. It sounded like he was distancing himself away. He didn't call her angel anymore.

To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well. I don't have that much time left in me, but I'd like to write down my feelings and my thoughts. I'm not asking for big audience, but if there is one, and you're the one, please listen to me. That's all I ask. I've been given a lot of paper, so I have enough to put down everything. At least I think so anyway. They say I can always ask for more, but I doubt I can. Breathing is getting significantly harder for me, but I'm trying to live just so I can write. I'm trying to unpack so that in the next life, I'll be given a fresh start. I want to leave everything here in my old body. I don't necessarily believe in the afterlife or in reincarnation, but I just want to leave my baggage here. Experiencing the near end of my life has given me a lot to think about. I've always thought it's impossible to find clarity in death, but now I'm getting first-hand experience and I can't help but think it's funny. I used to think it was strange but now I'm going through it right now. I've found peace in knowing that I'm going to leave soon and that has given me a clear head. I hope this is the first letter you've read because the past ones, the ones that will be sent to my home with this one, are filled with nonsense from a grieving madman. I don't care if you send these letters to a museum, just don't send them to my parents. Send them specifically to my house. If they've seen that their son has gone utterly insane over the years would hurt so much. You can put this anywhere you want, actually, just as long as someone reads them. It could be you, it could be anyone willing to listen to me. I just want to be heard. I want to be seen. I want others to know how a man can suffer because of this war. I don't know when you'll be finding these. You could be reading this years after I die. Just- you know, if you do happen to see my letters, please treat them with care, or not. Throw them away, just- please read them or send them somewhere where people actually care. You can even send it to a museum or something.  Leave the rest of these letters unopened so the curators can read them. They'll treat these with care, that is if they are still in good health and these letters are legible, but if you want, you can also take care of them. I don't know why, though, but if you think it's fine then be my guest. But if this is the last letter you've read, then I have a few words to tell you. Thank you, and I'm sorry you've had the misfortune of knowing me. I appreciate the fact that you've read everything because that's all I needed. I just needed someone to listen to me, even if it'll take days or years for someone to find these. You could be anyone, really, and I wouldn't care who you are because regardless, I appreciate you. I'm grateful for your patience and your sympathy because the Lord knows someone like me doesn't deserve it. The thought of someone finding these letters and reading them is enough to make me happy on my deathbed. Thank you so much for taking the time of your day to listen to me and my stupid, incoherent ramblings. Hey, you've been with me the entire journey. You made it this far. If I caused something to you while you're reading the past few letters please know I didn't mean to hurt you. I appreciate your sympathy, I genuinely do, but I am deeply sorry for the pain I may have caused. I've caused too much to other people and the last thing I want is for another person to be hurt because of me.

There were tear stains on the next few pages, but they were still legible. The paper seems fresh too, but it looks somewhat aged.

My darling angel, This is to you personally. I know you're reading this because you've come this far and haven't discarded me yet. I have one thing to confess and I hope that you can listen to me and forgive me. I've hurt you the most and I realize this might hurt you even more. Please, I ask for you to forgive me and listen to the words I have to say. Throughout my life, I didn't think angels ever existed. I'm not a religious man myself, but through the course of the war, I've started to believe God placed an angel to watch over me. You kept me happy and made me sane when things were rough. But the thing is- You never existed. You were never a physical person. In a way, you made me go mad. With some clarity, I realize that creating you was just my brain reaching for ways to feel better. Maybe my silent prayers were heard and God actually placed an angel to be with me from the start. Maybe I willed you into existence. But- You initially came in a form of a joke. I pretended to have a girlfriend because I felt left out. I thought it was funny to pretend to have someone to love. The rest of my friends had their own girlfriends to write to, but I was the only one who didn't have one. So I decided to play along and pretend that you existed, but then the more I wrote to you, a person who doesn't even exist, you became something to me.  You never had a physical body because you stemmed from my imagination. I projected to you the qualities I had. I also gave you hobbies I wanted to see. I believed that you were listening to me because Lord knows that's all I needed while I was fighting this damn stupid war. I made myself fall in love with the idea of you, which is by far the stupidest but the best thing I've done in my life. While I was thinking of you, you felt so real to me. It came to the point where I thought you were a living, breathing person that could actually write back to me. Everyone else was getting letters and I didn't. Not getting anything from you made me frustrated, but I held on to you so much because you're all I had. It pains me that you never existed, because I would have loved you so much, wholeheartedly. I would have done everything for you because the idea of you made me so happy. You were my everything.  I find my words weird and crazy the more I write them now, but this is how I genuinely feel. I fell in love with a figment of my imagination, but if by some miracle, you truly exist, I would have loved to see you. To hold you, to bring you out on dates, to kiss you. I want to do everything with you and I hope that in another life, I get to meet you. God has to be merciful enough to give me another chance. Maybe I'll win the life lottery in the next one, eh? I genuinely am sorry for the pain I've caused you. I've tried making it up to you. I promised you that I'd be the moon to your stars, that I'd be there to protect you. I've done all I can. I don't know if I could ever become a ghost, or whatever the hell exists out there, but if I could, I would be there at night, watching over you. I'd keep any dangers away from you because I'd hate to see you get hurt.  I've already hurt you so much, I don't want anything else harming you.  I know it's a lot to unpack. I know I've rambled. I know I've said a lot of shit, but it's all how I feel. This is the baggage I'll leave this body. I know I don't have that much time anymore so I'll cut it here. Breathing is getting hard for me but hey, I think I'll die peacefully. Thank you, my darling. I hope I get to see you in another life. I'll find my way to you again. I promise. I love you. Lovingly, and always forever yours, Alfred

Silence hung in (Y/n)'s bedroom as she stared at the letter in her hands. He was right. There is a lot to unpack, but the young woman doesn't have enough strength to handle it right now. Her vision is blurred with her tears, which dripped down to the paper. Her hands were shaking and soon enough her body would follow. 

Heat seeped through her room, but the area in front of her was deathly cold. Rubbing tears from her eyes, she could see just a bit clearer. Before her was an apparition of Alfred. He wore a clean, green uniform with brand-new glasses. The rest of him was in black and white, mimicking his appearance in his photograph.

Alfred knelt in front of her with his hands cupping her own. He held his usual bright smile but tears also ran down his cheeks. 

"I love you too, Alfred," she'd whisper. "I loved you so much."

They stared into each other's eyes. Slowly, he'd rise and press his lips against hers. 

A final parting gift.

The young woman would take at this moment and she'd close her eyes. They lingered for a bit before he'd leave. There were no more traces of him in her vision. She stared at the clear floor. The perpetual cold temperature of her room disappeared completely and the heavyweight that constantly rested on her shoulders disappeared.

Her mind was given clarity, but her chest was heavy with grief. This was the general grief experienced after losing a loved one though. It wasn't like the one she's felt over the past few months. She didn't feel the world on her shoulders anymore.

But this was at the cost of Jones. 

He no longer haunted her.

Perhaps the remnants of his soul have served their purpose and have gotten what they wanted.

(Y/n) smiled as she blankly stared at the spot Alfred knelt at. She'd eventually approach her door to try and get her day started. To make herself think about something else. To start the process of healing. Before she could leave she'd hear a whisper in her ear.

"I loved you too, (Y/n)."

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 12: " Beaches. " ✎▫✧⭒…

After a long, exhausting week, the weekend gave (Y/n) the peace she longed for. She stood in her backyard with a picnic blanket lying at her feet. Matthew sat near her while his dog ran around her yard, searching for a stick. (Y/n) placed the food down on the bright-colored mat and sat across her friend. A small smile appeared on her face as she stared at him. Matthew did the same.

"I'm glad you let me come over today," the Canadian spoke.

"I needed something to do and I figured maybe I could ask you to come over. I didn't want to drive anywhere today anyway."

"I thought you would have asked Felicia to come over instead."

"She's a bit busy this weekend. Her grandmother called her over for a family reunion so she had to go there. I knew you were available though and figured hey, why not. I've wanted to talk to you again anyway, since it's been a while."

The two of them prepared their lunch and splayed them on the blanket. Matthew brought out his containers filled with food but kept one hidden. It was a box of french sweets. His dog was infamous for stealing baked goods. Matt wanted to make sure that Kuma wouldn't suddenly grab the bread and run away. 

He baked it all for this occasion in the hopes of making his friend happy.

(Y/n)'s food wasn't anything special, but she put some love into it today. She was used to cooking simple meals. This time, she put some effort and made her entrees look more appetizing. She remembered a few tips Felicia gave her when it came to cooking. She wanted it to look good for her friend.

The containers were opened after everything was set up. They gave each other paper plates and servings of food. The large dog running around the yard immediately returned to Matthew's side with the stick. His tongue hung out of his mouth as he sniffed the air and whined. He was begging for food, which Matthew was used to. (Y/n) though? Not so much. The urge to give the pup something was hard to resist. 

"Don't," Matthew spoke, "He already ate his food earlier this morning."

"It'll be a small bite," (Y/n) laughed, "After that, I promise I won't give in."

The blonde's eyes looked at his dog, then at his friend. He supposed it couldn't hurt. Kuma would have pounced him anyway. He sighed before letting the woman give the dog a piece of her food. Kuma gently took it from (Y/n)'s hand, ate it, and barked happily. The pup pressed himself against her and licked her cheek. 

(Y/n) laughed a little more, wiping the saliva off with a tissue. Matthew grabbed Kuma's stick and threw it again. The dog turned his attention away from the food for the moment, giving the duo some peace. They ate in silence but chatted in between bites. Their conversations were mostly light and their topics ranged from work to routines.

"How's your cousin?" (Y/n) asked, "I know you don't really like him but it's nice to know how he's doing."

"He's fine...and- well, it's not that I don't like him. It's just that he gets annoying sometimes. He only calls me when he needs a backup healer on one of his games. He could have called his other friends for it though since I know they're available. He always picks me though, saying 'oh but bro you're the best healer I can have!' Like he doesn't play with pros sometimes." Matthew huffed as he bit into his bread.

"He probably wants to hang out with you or something," (Y/n) mumbled, "Have you guys hung out recently?"

"No...not really. I guess. The last time I hung out with him was a few weeks ago but other than that, I haven't called or texted him. He's the one starting conversations and I reply sometimes." Matthew let out a small sigh. "I get where you're coming from though, but still. I don't always want to play video games with him."

"Well, what if you guys do something else? Like go out to eat or something. There are always other places and you should tell him where you want to go."

"He's just going to complain. There's nothing that gets him happy other than video games and hanging out online. I brought him to a park once and wanted to leave because of how boring it was."

(Y/n) shook her head and took a bite of her food. "There's always gonna be a way for you guys to hang out at some place you both like. You just have to ask him and maybe he wouldn't bother you about having you as a healer. The way I see it, he wants to hang out with you." 

Matthew sighed. There is nothing wrong with trying to hang out with him, he supposed. He finished his food and placed his plate down. He hugged his legs as he looked at his friend. 

"I guess you're right," he mumbled, "I'll try and see if I can contact him today or tomorrow. Maybe he wants to go bowling or something next week." (Y/n) smiled at him, saying that she was proud of him for making that decision. 

The friends continued to talk to each other. Sometimes Kuma would butt into the conversation and hoard (Y/n) to himself. The pup would lick her face, nudge against her hand, and whine for more attention. Matthew envied the interaction between his dog and his friend but welcomed it. It was nice to see (Y/n) smile again.

She's been in a dark spot for a long time. She hasn't really opened up as much as he wanted to, but he was sure there were other people that knew. Maybe her other friend, Felicia, would know about it. He wouldn't force her to open up unless she was ready.

But he wasn't going to worry about that today. 

Not when she looks happy today. With huge smiles and loud laughs. Matthew had a feeling that they were all genuine. All of his hopes seem to be coming true for now. 

They continued to talk to each other for a little longer. Matthew stayed as long as he could. It was the least he could do right now. He had been fairly busy for the past few weeks so he's trying to make it up to her. He wants to be there for her.

(Y/n) and Matthew prepared dinner together in her home. The tv chatter filled up the air as they cooked in silence. Kuma was knocked out on the couch in the living room. Their fruit of labor was a full course meal that included dessert. Matthew knew a recipe that was easy to make and required only an hour or two of preparation. 

The two friends shared dinner together, even talking between bites again. They both enjoyed what they made together.

When it came to the end of their hang-out, Matthew stood at the door, holding Kuma's leash. "I'll try and see you again next week. We'll have to see if my cousin agrees to the outing though."

"We can also do the following week if you can't make it next week," (Y/n) responded. She leaned against the doorframe and smiled.

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure, Matthew."

The blond pursed his lips together and sighed. "It's set then. I'll see you two weeks from now." He approached her and pulled her into a hug. (Y/n) laughed as she wrapped her arms around him. He lingered there for a moment, fearing that everything he felt today was going to be a dream.

And that the worst might appear before him. 

"I won't go anywhere, Mattie," she told him. It brought him comfort. 

She was going to be alright. Another week without her was fine. She'll be ok. She'll be safe.

Matthew pulled away from her. "Good night," he whispered. (Y/n) smiled at him and uttered the same. She soon shut the door afterward, barring herself from the rest of the world. (Y/n) doesn't know if her friend stayed behind the barrier or if he immediately left. 

She doesn't know what's going on outside once she hides in her own home. 

The young woman approaches the couch in the living room. She grabbed the remote to turn off the tv that had been broadcasting the news. She drifts from the living room to the kitchen, and eventually her room.

Here, she was by herself. Alone. With her thoughts.

(Y/n) pulls the drawer open and grabbed a letter. The most recent one was this morning. The one that didn't have any significant changes to Jones' demeanor, but speaks of his whereabouts. He was still in the European theatre, fighting for his life, but he was being transported elsewhere.

"Jones," she whispered. She placed a kiss against the paper. She didn't need to greet the paper as she did so this morning. 

My beloved angel, Hey. Hope you're feeling well. I've got some fairly good news. That's what I like to believe anyway. I've just been told that we were moving places. Too many people died here so it's better to move now than never. I don't want to be reminded of the places where my friends died...even if they died months apart. I hate it here, but you already know that.  We're being told that the place we were going to had beaches. Pretty ones too, actually. That's what the commanding officers were saying. I know they're just trying to get morale up again, but with how miserable we all are here, I doubt it's going to actually work. All this talk about pretty beaches is nothing to us. We all know that it's just gonna be a lot of fighting again. We all know what everyone wants. We all want to go home but we can't. We're all stuck here until it all blows over. It's frustrating to think about. We may be moving to a place with pretty beaches, but that pretty beach is just going to be another cage to hold all of us together. We're just going to be fighting with others inside that cage and it's still going to be bloody.  People are still going to die. We're all stuck with the thought that death can come knocking in at any moment.  We're using borrowed time. But hey, we get pretty beaches, right? Ever since the commander's been yapping about it, I started thinking about it too. What if I brought you to a pretty beach? Would you wear those pretty bikinis? Maybe even a little sunhat and some sandals. I'd bring the lunch we packed together, the blankets, towels, and even the oversized umbrella. We could be swimming or building sandcastles together. If you don't want any of that, there's always the thing that many lovers do. The walks on the beach during sunset. I'd love to hold your hand, maybe even spin you around until the waves get to us. We could get soaked or stay perfectly dry. I'd pick up photography if it means that I take pictures of you in the sunset. Even if it'll be in black and white, I think the sun'll illuminate your face. Make it look pretty. Make you look like an absolute angel. I'd love that very much, actually. Maybe when I come home, we can. I'll keep that thought in the back of my mind. I'll do anything to make sure that I live that dream with you, but for now, I'll keep it all in my head. I miss you. Keep yourself safe, angel, and I'll do my best to do the same. Dearly yours, A. F. J

(Y/n) played his scenario in her mind. Although Jones' form was indescribable, she sees his smile, his uniform, and his broken glasses. She too daydreamed.  She had this space in her mind for a while now. It was a place plagued by her thoughts about Jones. He was there. He lingered in her mind. On their shared beach together, they did what they wanted to do. They held hands, hugged, and played in the water. 

The young woman was stuck in a dazed state as her daydream ran rampant. She only snapped out of it when the sun finally set in that fantasy world. Her eyes returned their focus on the paper, that had been in her grasp for far too long. She blinked, took in a deep breath, and sighed. 

She had no words for the young man on the paper. She merely kissed it again and tucked it away in its special place. (Y/n) stood up to get herself ready for the night. She tucked herself in once all was done. The lights were all off. Her eyes stare at the darkness that surrounded her. She knew it was the ceiling above her, but it looked like static.

Things flew in the air as her mind processed thoughts. From fabricated memories to reality, it worked hard to differentiate the two. 

It kept her up at night until her body begged for sleep. Her mind indulged that request and gave her a few hours. She gathered enough energy to move around today. but that wouldn't really change anything. Her habit of staying in bed overpowered her need to move and get up. 

The sun shined outside her window, but it was still dark inside her room. The shadows in (Y/n)'s room wrapped their arms around her, pushing her down the bed. Her eyes kept their gaze on the ceiling above. A blur was barely visible. Her concept of reality is in shambles, but it's trying to be upright.

For her sake.

(Y/n) stayed in bed for an hour or two, her body barely moving an inch. She only moved when she felt her stomach bite itself. It brought her focus back to her body and gave her a reason to get up this morning. 

The young woman followed her daily morning routine of freshening up. She took a moment to study her surroundings in the mirror. That blur was there again, in the corner of the room. It watched her, tempted her to break her own reality. She was stuck in a daze, staring, waiting, until she heard her phone ring in the other room.

She broke her routine to pick up the call. 

Her father was on the line and it looks like he wants a video call.

"Hey kid," the old man spoke, "I haven't heard from you in ages. How are you doing?"

"Dad," (Y/n) replied, "I'm doing alright. How about you?" 

"Alright, I suppose. Been worrying about my only daughter for a long while, you know?" A hearty laugh comes from her phone.

"I know." She kept her phone by her ear as she started pacing around her room. "I'm sorry, dad. I'm always so busy with work and other stuff sometimes that I forget you guys exist." Her lips arched into a frown. She saw her father faux distress by letting out a light groan and falling back just a bit.

"You know that hurts right?" Raphael chuckled, "But hey, there is kinda a way for you to make it up to me though. Dunno about your mother but hey, I've got a solution for me."

(Y/n) rose a brow. "What do you mean by that?"

"I may or may not be driving to your place right now, with a load of money in my bank and a plan to head to the nearest mall or something." 

"Is that why you're in a car right now?" 

"Yeah! Don't you see the traffic going by me right now? Come on now."

"But that's so unsafe! You could crash on your way here. Why didn't you call me earlier?"

"Because that would absolutely be no fun at all. You're probably still sleeping, and plus, it wouldn't be as big of a surprise if I called you before leaving my home. Don't worry about me at all! I've been driving for years, angel, I ain't gonna get in some car accident. Not when I'm watching the road very closely."

The young woman pouted, letting out a sigh. "Dad." She was disappointed, to say the least.

"You look like your mom. Don't make that face." Raphael mumbled. 

"I'm gonna hang up so you can focus on driving," (Y/n) mumbled, "Call me when you're already at my place." 

"Why would you wanna do that?" the old man replied, "I'm already pulling up to your street. End the call when you hear my loud engine."

(Y/n) approached the window that showed her driveway. She peered through her blinds and found her father's car off in the distance. The car that he loved so much, he gave it her name. She didn't really know how to react other than shock.

His engine was loud when he pulled her to her driveway. She ended their short video call and opened the door for him. Her father ran to the door and wrapped his arms around her, spinning her around out of pure joy. 

"There's my daughter," Raphael grinned, "How is the little munchkin doing?" 

"Fine," she replied. She embraced her father a little more before she told him to put her down. Despite her father's age, he lifted her up with ease. He still had the muscle he built up many years ago. 

(Y/n) moved aside to let her father inside and handed him the remote so he could browse the different channels while she got herself ready for their day hanging out in some mall. As she approached the hall, her father stopped her.

"You hosting ghosts or something?" Her father asked, "It's freezing in your house."

"Ghosts? Nah. It's normally how the house is," (Y/n) mumbled, "I guess I've gotten used to it, but if you wanna turn up the heat, the dial's over there in that corner."

"I'll just...stay put. We're gonna be leaving anyway. You go get dressed so we can get outta here," Raphael mused, "I'll just entertain the dead for a little more. Maybe the ghost'll like some action movies, eh?"

The young woman rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Yeah. Right. Ask them if they like watching Rambo 10 million times. Maybe you guys can bond." She waved at her father and disappeared beyond the hallway. It was dark again, and she saw the blur in the corner of her vision.

Ghost.

No that can't be right.

Why would she think her place is haunted?

Ghosts aren't real. 

Maybe she's just tired. Maybe she's just seeing things.

(Y/n) dismissed her thoughts. She brushed past the blur to enter her room, ignoring the thoughts in her mind. She approached her dresser, grabbed comfortable clothes, and took her belongings. She stopped before leaving her room to look at her bed.

She hadn't opened a letter at all today. Quickly she moved, opening the chest and grabbing the top letter. Despite the rush, she opened the envelope as gently as she could. She plucked out the paper inside. 

"I almost forgot," she whispered. "I'm sorry Jones. I didn't mean to." She pleaded to him as if he could hear her. "Good morning, baby."

My dearest angel, How have you been? I hope you're okay wherever you are right now. As for me, I'm doing okay. It's been a peaceful night today. The moon's full and the stars are just as bright as ever. The beaches bring some sort of comfort. I dunno if it's because of the waves or the fact that everything seems so still. I think it's the latter. But it's so weird. I've never experienced this sort of calm in years. It's always been chaotic since the start of the campaign, so to have this much peace is different. I don't think I can get used to it right now. I'm not even sure if I'll get used to it at all.  I suppose it's a good thing that everything seems so peaceful. It's given me time to think. I know I should be sleeping, but I'd rather be thinking. Now, there's a lot in my chest already but I've been thinking about you a lot; about your wellbeing, your safety, and even your happiness. You're always in my mind but there are other things that sort of...make that thought of you for the worst.  I've thought about us. I've now been thinking about what Charles said to me many months ago. I don't like thinking about it, but it's been sitting at the back of my mind ever since he mentioned it. It's the possibility of infidelity. For you, anyway. I've been thinking....and thinking. It's a thought that won't go away, no matter how hard I pick at my scalp to get it out. I hate it. I hate how it might be true. I never wanted to face the truth ever since Charles said it. But given that I've gotten some clarity and I put more thought into it. If you had been sleeping with another guy, be it more mentally stable and physically fit than me, then I suppose I can't get angry at you.  I won't blame you for all of it, because well, I suppose it's essentially my fault for leaving. If I made you upset because of my departure, then I'm deeply sorry. I won't blame you for not wanting to open any of my letters if it helps you feel better about yourself. I understand if you want to forget about me, about everything we went through. I'm fine with that. It hurts me, but I'm ok with that. You don't even have to acknowledge me anymore. I know you're never going to, but still, allow me to write letters to you. There's still a chance that you still care about me. It's very slim, but there's still a chance. So in case you still care, I should confess. You're all I have. I don't tell most of the things to my ma and pa at home. They'll never understand like you. I know I'm a doomed man from the start, but you give me a bit of hope. I'm sorry for the doubts I've written, if they ever upset you. I still have hope for us. My darling angel, I envy and care about you. Take care of yourself. Continue to be happy. Despite what your answer might be, I'll continue to write to you. Let me cling to you for a little longer. Let me kiss you a few more times, that's all I ask. I know grim'll appear at my doorstep eventually. I promise I'll get out of your way then. Forever yours, A.F.J

(Y/n) expected the letter to be depressing, yes, but she never thought of seeing Jones so willing to let go. He still clung on to his girlfriend like his life depended on it, but he was losing his grip. She was jealous. She wanted to do that too, but she felt like it seemed too soon. For Jones, years have already passed by. For her, it's only nearing a year.

The young woman's hand shook for a moment, with emotions piling up in her chest. She planted her usual kiss against the paper before tucking it away in the drawer. (Y/n) approached her bathroom to wipe away tears that threatened to spill. She doesn't want her father asking her about her eyes. 

She leaves her room to return to her father. The old man turned off the tv once he saw his daughter appear from the hallway with her essentials already at hand. 

"Didn't know if the ghost wanted Rambo or not, so I opted to watch Rocky. Think they'll like that instead?" (Y/n)'s father asked.

"Dunno. I'm not the ghost after all." 

Her father led her to his car after she locked her front doors. As she opened the door, she heard someone call out her name. Her eyes connected with her neighbor's. 

Williams. 

There was something she noticed though. There was another car pulled up in his driveway. A dark blue sports car. Matthew was out on the sidewalk, holding Kuma's leash. The dog was yapping as loud as he could to get her attention.

She waved to them before entering her father's car. (Y/n) felt that it was necessary to tell Matthew where she was going to go. Maybe he wanted to know. Raphael merely arched a brow at his daughter before laughing a little.

"Who's the blond?" he asked.

"My friend," she responded, "I've been talking to him for a few months now. He's a real nice guy and has the cutest dog ever." 

"Oh, I could tell. That hound's got a lot of fur to him. Reminds me of your ma's pup before we got married. Real huge one. Dunno how it survived the heat when it's got that much fur to it," he chuckled, "hoping your friend's dog survives well, with how much fur he's hoggin." 

The car pulled out of the driveway and left the neighborhood. The two inside were in their own headspace, with Raphael focused on driving while (Y/n) texted her friends. She had planned to eat first before texting them back, but it looks like that was sort of canceled. She hoped to go eat first before walking around the mall. 

They drove to their usual go-to place for hanging out. It was a large mall that had tons of stores inside. They had recently built up another fun place to go. It was a skate rink and a bowling area in one. The arcade was just right next to it too. That was where Raphael wanted to go the most. The shopping experience was just going to be secondary to them. 

Raphael took his daughter to a restaurant to eat first. Anything she got, he paid for, and he was aiming to keep it that way. He just had a hunch that something was going on with her. (Y/n)'s absence was certainly a strange thing to him, especially when it's compared to her behavior a few months back. 

Such a lovely, charismatic spirit now turned recluse and isolated. Even from the people she loved the most. 

He worries about his own daughter. She was his one and only child. Of course, he's gotta take care of her. 

Through their meal, he asked her about her feelings, which she did little to open up about. (Y/n) munched through her food, saying that she was fine and upheld her reasons. 

"I was just busy. Felicia keeps asking me to go to parties with her and all that stuff. Plus, the company's been really busy so that's extra work," (Y/n) spoke.

"But there's gotta be something else you know?" Raphael mumbled, "You got any love problems or something? Went through something like what you're going through right now when a Jane Doe broke my little heart." He bit his steak and pointed his fork at her. "Can't say that's the same with you but you're definitely moody. I know you take up on my moods."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, trying to dismiss what her father said. He's got the idea, but she wasn't going to make it obvious that she was going through something right now. She can't open up to too many people. What would her father say? Do? He's protective of her and wants the very best of her. If he learns that these damn old letters were troubling her...

He would take him away from her.

She can't have that.

So she'll continue to dismiss everything he's said, mentioned, and even commented on. Her father was stubborn, she knew, but she wasn't going to give in.

Not when she's already caved into two other people. One was enough, two is too much, and three was going to kill her. (Y/n) smiled, moved on, and asked for the bill, leaving her father almost speechless at how dismissive she was. 

She could see his frustration, but he didn't want to show it. He was proud of being a moody bastard but not in the eyes of the public. They all moved on, but her father won't easily give up just like that. There was always another day he could ask. 

Just not today, he supposed.

The father and daughter left the restaurant together and opted to go to the skating rink and bowling first. They were to go shopping afterward. (Y/n) had a great time trying to skate around, even if she wasn't as good as she thought she'd be. Her father? He left her for the center of the rink after she told him to do so. He spun around and danced. After he's gotten his time to shine, he helped her and held her hand as they skated together.

They played one full game of bowling, with (Y/n) winning the set. The arcade was going to be another spot Raphael wanted to visit, but he realized it was already late. That arcade can wait for another day. For the rest of their time together, they spent it all on shopping. 

Even if (Y/n) protested, her father bought everything for her, even the smallest of things like candy or even a ballpoint pen. He had carried every bag for her with his excuse being "I didn't lift weights for nothing." At the end of their day, he placed everything in the trunk and let (Y/n) head inside the car first. 

Their day went well, for the most part. Even if the father didn't get answers to his questions, he was glad that he at least saw a smile on his daughter's face for today. That was good enough for him, anyway. (Y/n) let herself sink in the leather seat, her eyes set to watch the scenery passing them. Raphael did his best to drive her home safely. 

The two pulled up on the driveway. Raphael was the first to head out, grabbing the bags in the trunk and opening the door for his tired daughter. (Y/n) let out a yawn as she rubbed her eyes. She did a lot of things today. Her battery's low now and all she wanted to do was stay in bed for the rest of the night. 

Her father escorted her to the front door, where he watched her pull out her keys. The home's coldness greeted the pair, hugging (Y/n). It felt like warmth, but her father felt a harsh breeze. 

Actual warmth surrounded her when she felt her father hug her. (Y/n)'s hand rested atop her father's arms as she smiled softly. 

"I'll see you around kiddo," her father spoke. He stepped back, sending her a small wave. He watched her disappear as she closed the door.

(Y/n) has once again barred herself from the world. She lingered in the darkness for a moment. That blur at the corner of her vision was there again. It had a silhouette of a person, standing proud and tall.

Waiting.

A tiny light from the moon shinned through them, but something reflected it. Cracked glasses.

(Y/n) turned on the lights to her home, illuminating the area around her. The cold still lingered in her home.

But the blur disappeared.

The young woman kept still. listening to the sounds. She basked in the silence of her home. Only then did she feel comfort in the cold that hugged her. She felt the cold kiss her.

It felt familiar. It reminded her of the winter days when the cold kissed her cheeks. 

She stood there for a moment, letting the moment go on. When it no longer felt cold on her lips, she moved. She blinked and took in everything she felt at that exact time. A small smile, and then a short laugh, leaves her as she thought about what her father said.

"Maybe you're right dad," she whispered. "There is a ghost in the house."

"and he's in love with me."

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 11: " 27 " ✎▫✧⭒…

Meetings at the office were never really a good thing, especially when it's just between two people. (Y/n) sat in the office, waiting for her boss to arrive. She had been called her earlier...and she doesn't really know why. She had been doing her work and submitting papers in time before they were due. All the reports hit the quota and nothing gets away from her radar. She even goes as far double-check things. 

The woman played with her fingers as the time passed. The silence around her was deafening. Not even the loud hallways outside were helping her. They all sound mumbled and distant, and normally those noises would be too loud. Her nervousness made her listen to her heartbeat more. The loud thumps played in her ears as her brain filled up the silence as best as it could.

Until the door behind her swung open and her boss, a tall, brooding woman, walked in with files in her hand. Those were placed gently on the black tabletop and the light was adjusted to shine on the beige folder. The woman in charge didn't open the file, instead, she connected her hands together and rested her chin on top.

"Do you know why I called you to my office today?" Her boss, Sharon, asked. 

(Y/n) found the courage to look directly at her. "No," she answered. It was a simple response but many things can be taken from her voice and her mannerism. Sharon was a smart woman and knew when something was troubling her employees. She knew when another woman was stressed, emotionally unavailable, and simply out of it.

The (h/c) haired woman had been showing signs of this. Despite her ability to produce satisfactory work, it was clear that she wasn't acting the same as before. (Y/n) had been working here for years, was close with almost everyone, and now she's shutting herself away. She rarely talks to anyone in the office, with the exception of Felicia, and never properly greets anyone anymore.

A major behavior shift was suspicious to her boss. Sharon knows those signs all too well, but she didn't want to press further until she deemed it too late.

"It's about your behavior," Sharon replied, no longer keeping (Y/n) in the dark. "You've been changing the past few months. Sure, we accept a change here, but this is clearly for the worst rather than the best." 

So that's what she was called for.

(Y/n)'s boss has always cared for her. She cared for everyone. She was seen as some sort of benevolent boss who never hesitated to set what was right for everyone. (Y/n) felt almost guilty to be put in here. With everything going on with her, she felt as if being here and getting talked to was a burden for her boss. This meeting took hours away from what Sharon could be normally doing. She could have been helping her peers out. 

The (h/c) haired woman found it hard to respond to her boss. This almost felt like pity for her sorry state. 

The silence from (Y/n) was taken as a sign to keep talking. "You know everyone's been worried about you," Sharon sighed.

"They shouldn't. I'm fine," (Y/n) smiled, "There's no need to worry about me. I can make things work out." It's better to dismiss everything rather than actually address things. The woman was aware that she was going downhill. It's been happening for a while now, but it's nothing that she can't crawl out of. 

Right?

"Listen if you need to take more breaks, you're more than welcome to. You still have available vacation days, so why not take a break for a while. Give yourself some space and time." Her boss had an empathetic smile on her, which (Y/n) saw as more of a pity smile. Still, she sent him another smile back before shaking her head.

"I'll take those vacation days when I want to," (Y/n) hummed, "I'll be okay. I'm not on the brink just yet." 

Sharon nodded. Although she would press even further, the woman seemed to be okay. That wasn't the case...but it's hard to make her open up. She'd have to depend on Felicia to get her to talk, considering that they're closer than anyone around here. The boss let her leave the room, leaving her contemplating. 

(Y/n) will never know what her boss is thinking. She has a clue that it's about her, but she doesn't know what that woman is planning. All (Y/n) can do right now is wait. 

Wait in her office space, typing on her computer and finishing reports. Wearing a fabricated smile instead of her usual frown. Everyone's suspicious of her. She needs to get rid of that.

No one needs to worry about her. Why should they? She's okay. She will be.

Throughout the entire day, (Y/n) was by herself, working to distract herself from everything, from her obsession. 

Her thoughts.

Her emotions.

She left work with a smile on her face but entered her car with a frown. (Y/n) stayed in her car for a while. Her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel as she stared at the sky outside. It was still bright, with orange and red forming the prettiest combination.

The parking lot was peaceful and quiet. The atmosphere enabled her thoughts to spring out from the back. They swarmed, filling her mind with overwhelming feelings. The woman's eyes relaxed as she relived the emotions she went through this morning. Her hands trembled but kept their place on the steering wheel. Soon enough her lips followed, and her eyes became misty. 

(Y/n) pursed her lips together after she sighed. She needed another distraction. She started her car and drove away from her work. The woman made sure that she drove safely on the road. She didn't care to speed and followed every single rule on her way home. Upon pulling up on her driveway, she hurried inside her home and locked the front door. 

She tossed her belongings on the couch and enclosed herself in her bedroom. The lights were dimmed and she didn't bother changing to more comfortable clothes. She sunk into her bed, in her work clothes, as she felt the despair she hid away from her. Normally, she doesn't burst into tears upon getting home. 

Today was different though. Maybe the bottle decided to crack open and spill out everything she's been keeping inside. 

The woman laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling, as her eyes continued to well tears. The droplets fell down her face. Eventually, it all escalated and she stayed in her bed, crying.

Such a pitiful state she's in. 

(Y/n) kept her dormant condition until she ran dry. She took in a deep breath from her lips and let it escape her afterward. She continued this exercise until she could force another smile. The woman managed to gather the energy to sit up. She stripped out of her work clothes and slipped into comfortable pajamas. She made her way to the kitchen where she ate dinner and moped around in her living room. She watched a comforting video she always turned to whenever she was feeling under the weather.

Although it seemed futile, it gathered a few laughs from her.

She walked back up to her room, trudging the floors, and sat on her bed. Her (e/c) eyes stared at the drawer that kept letters from Jones. Her thoughts resurfaced, but her psyche did its best to keep them tucked away to prevent another session. 

(Y/n) had Jones in her mind, the perfect image of him at least. The mysterious, faceless soldier wore a green uniform and gleaming glasses. His smile sat on his featureless face. Sure, to the normal eye, this depiction of him would seem odd, but to the woman, it was her everything. It was her sweetheart.

He was hers...she was his. 

The woman stayed dazed, staring blankly at the drawer that kept everything that reminded her of Jones. Her lips no longer had to force a smile, as one naturally crept up. 

"Jones," She breathed out. How her heart seemed to sing for him, as if he were truly there, truly alive and well. Her delusions ran rampant in her mind as she stayed in her state. As much as she wanted to open one of the older letters to fuel her fantasy, she refused to move. She feared that one touch of the most recent ones would break everything she's dreamed of. 

And no one wants their fantasy broken. Not in this condition. 

So (Y/n) detracted and brought herself out of her blank state to fall into bed. There she lay with her phone, browsing until her body passed out from exhaustion. In her dreams, she lived in a world fueled by her love and imagination, where she danced with Jones. She could never hear his voice, but she could read his lips. 

He called her baby, sweetheart, angels. Anything that could make the girl's heart sing. Their hands were intertwined and never departed. They were as close as they could be while dancing to jazz. It was, as if, they were bound by the waist by an invisible string. It kept them together. The closeness brought both of them comfort.

But everything was robbed from her as soon as she opened her eyes. 

It was dark in her room. Her (e/c) eyes focused on the light that peeked through her blinds. The warm summer breeze pushed through the window and kissed her bare shoulder. It brought her warmth, but it wasn't enough to comfort her. An underlying dread washes over her as she realized that it was a new day.

Another letter from Jones. 

(Y/n) stuck around in bed more. She knew that as soon as she got up, she had to open another letter. Even if she told herself she didn't need to, it was hard not to. She did everything in her power to make time for herself, but her body knew she still had to.

It made a reason for her to get up. Her stomach started growling, urging her to get up and head to the kitchen. 

To start the routine. 

The woman knew she couldn't starve herself. Hesitantly, she pushed herself up. (Y/n) made sure not to look at the spot in bed that had the letters tucked underneath. She walked to the bathroom to freshen up. She wanted to head straight to the kitchen, but her body forced her back into her room. She happened to stop in front of the spot.

Her lips and hands quivered as she reached down to grab the box filled with letters. She plucked one out and ripped through the envelope. She was careful not to rip its contents. Her (e/c) eyes studied its contents, finding another journal scrap, but it was structured like a letter. (Y/n) wasn't sure what pile to put it in, the collection of journal scraps or the letters pile.

This kind of format was odd. It was either-or, but never between. Still, there was little to no organization to the thoughts being poured into the paper. It felt more like ramblings. There were tear stains on the paper, but that was no longer an oddity for her. The woman didn't want to analyze it further, fearing that she'll get too into it and she'll spiral down with him today.

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) softly smiled, "How are you, soldier." 

Good morning my darling angel, The world seems to hate us a little more today. Maybe there's no more saving grace for us soldiers anymore. Maybe it's truly not giving us another chance. I have been praying every single day that God would do something, but he's done nothing but watch. It's all like a game of chess, except I can't control anything. I'm just another goddamn pawn. I can't say that you are too, baby, since you're all the way back home. You're safe. You're like the queen. You're being protected by the others back at home. I'm doing all I can to protect you. I can't change my fate or anything, but I wish I did. I wish I still had some saving grace. I wish I had something done to me so I didn't have to stay here anymore. I need a miracle, but getting those involves God's charity. And God is cruel today. We lost someone and normally, I show a lot of pity to the guys we've lost, but, this one is different, baby. It's someone I didn't think we could lose. Charles. We've lost him.  It's just me and Alex now. And you know, it's all my fault. It always is. I was put in the same squad as Charles today. Things were going so well, but he got himself blown up. He's an idiot, isn't he? I try to tell myself that, because I know if I carry this guilt with me, I might as well be six feet under.  As much as I dislike him, he still put the effort into saving me. He told me to duck and cover. He told me that he'll take the shot and clear out the path ahead in front of us. He had better eyesight than me, he said, but this damn fool couldn't see the incoming grenade headed straight for us. I know I tried to tell him, but I suppose the shock was hitting me.  I saw him explode. He had lost his leg, but he was still breathing. I tried to save him as best I could, but it all happened too fast that all I got from it was "tell my girlfriend that I love her. Send her the letter and tell her that I died in a good way, in full pieces." I did what I was told because that's all I'm good for. It hurt to write this time. Not because of the shock, but because of everything that's happened to me and Charles. I wish he still told me that he hated me, so I could stop thinking about him. But he still cared for me. I hate that fact. It hurts me too much. The image is burning in my head and I can't get it out. As much as I pick at my head and try to get it out, it's staying there. Charles, that idiot, still saved me, even if he could have just left me there and ran away himself.  I can't handle it, you know. And I think this is karma for everything. For shooting so many people, so many other soldiers. This is something God is playing against me. I'm losing control of everything. I feel like I can't breathe. I can't. It's hard to. I pray and pray that everything is fine, but nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I've lost faith in God, for all he does is play tricks on vulnerable men who risk their lives every day. He can't hear us amidst all the bombardments and bombs.  But you. You're here. I have faith in us, no matter how far apart we are from each other. I can lean on you to be there for me. I pray that God hears you back at home, where it's peaceful and safe. My darling angel, maybe you can tell him my messages and prayers. I pray that he does. I pray that you tell him everything. I pray that you still have me in your thoughts, in your prayers, because I have you in mine.  Continue to be safe back at home. Dearly yours,  A.F.J

(Y/n)'s stomach twisted and turned, sending her emotions that put her through another spiral. Her shaking hands brought the letter to her lips. She placed a soft, kiss against the paper and lingered there for a moment. The man was going through so much, and she was here to listen to him spill out his emotions. If only she had some way of telling him that there was someone actually reading everything he sent. 

It would have brought him the comfort that he needed. He wouldn't have to force himself to believe that his beloved was listening to him. (Y/n) could tell that his girlfriend wasn't. She didn't think about the technicalities anymore. She knew it was cruel to leave him hanging with hope. 

How could anyone do that to him? If anything, the girlfriend was cruel and the more she read the letters, the more disdain she grew.

"I'm sorry Jones, I wish I had you in mine," (Y/n) whispered. It took a while for the woman to keep herself together. She placed the letter back in its home and hid it in the drawer filled with his letters. She lingered in her bed longer, her eyes blankly staring at the drawers. 

"I wish I could have you."

Her lips arched into another small, pathetic smile. (Y/n) pried her eyes away from the sight and pushed herself up. She headed to the kitchen where she prepared her meal, alone. In her thoughts, the perfect version of Jones haunted her. She imagined him around her, watching her cook. It made her genuinely smile. Her own version of reality continued to play, but it all stopped when she heard her phone buzz.

(Y/n) arched a brow as she grabbed her phone and picked up the call. 

"Hey," a soft voice spoke through the speaker, "I just wanted to check up on you since, you know I don't really see you walk out anymore."

"Matthew," (Y/n) replied, "I'm okay. I just haven't found anything interesting to do lately so I've been cooped up in my home a lot. Why? What's up?"

"I've just been wondering where you were, since you don't really respond to my texts anymore. The only time we ever really see each other is when we sometimes see each other on the driveway," Matthew mumbled, "I wanted to hang out with you, but you seem really busy all the time so I never really bothered."

"I'm sorry Mattie," (Y/n) spoke, "I uhmm...I'm free right now, actually. Maybe we can go somewhere together."

"I'm actually planning on bringing Kuma with me to a park. He needs to take a walk and maybe burn a little chub. Do you wanna go with me?" 

"I'd love to."

Their call ended then and (Y/n) put the phone down. She continued preparing her meal and finished as soon as she heard her doorbell ring. She walked over and opened the front door, showing her face to Matthew. She was glad that she managed to fix her appearance before him. She doesn't want him asking about her heavy eyebags and bloodshot eyes. 

Kuma barked happily, pulling Matthew closer to her so he could sniff her. He then rubbed himself around her, with his tail wagging fast that his butt started to follow along. The puppy wanted pets and of course (Y/n) obliged. She exchanged greetings with Matthew before she started cooing at the whimpering dog. 

"He's missed you, you know?" Matthew grinned, "He doesn't even get this excited to see me and honestly I'm a little jealous." 

"Aww...sorry puppy, I was busy," (Y/n) hummed. She gently pets behind his ear, causing the dog's eyes to droop a little. "I don't have any treats for you right now, but he's free to roam around the house for now. I have to eat my breakfast before we can head out."

The Canadian nodded. The duo followed their friend to the kitchen, where they sat and talked for a while. Most of it is just catching up. Nothing too...intrusive in (Y/n)'s opinion. Although, she knows that Matthew has a clue as to what's wrong with her. She doesn't want his concern either, even if it might help. Her speculations are entirely just that. 

Speculations.

She doesn't have any solid proof, but she'll keep her guard.

When she was finished with her food, she excused herself from the dining table. (Y/n) went on ahead to change and touch up her features before grabbing her essentials. After, she called Matthew over to the front door, and together they started walking. 

Idle chatter springs between them, filling up the empty space. It would have been awkward to walk in silence, especially when there's a friend who's gone missing for a while. Matthew talked mostly about his troubles which were lightweight. There had been trouble at his work concerning polar bear habitat conservation. It was a serious topic and Matthew had so much passion for it.

(Y/n) had nothing much to say, as she was afraid of spilling too much and confirming Matthew's concerns. The blonde wasn't much to pry either and opted to continue the conversation when she didn't want to. Matthew was a good man...but to burden him with what she was troubled with is too much for her to handle. 

Eventually, they landed at the park that was near their neighborhood. There was a dog park for Kuma to run and socialize with other dogs. (Y/n) and Matthew found a comfortable spot beneath the shade to keep away from the summer sun. 

They were comfortable and (Y/n) had a good distraction from her thoughts. They weren't as troubling today, but the account written in today's opened letter was bothering her. The woman sunk in her spot, her eyes stuck on Kuma's white fur. 

"Something's troubling you," Matthew mumbled.

(Y/n) arched a brow but never looked at Matthew. "What do you mean?"

"I can see it in your eyes. Your eyebags look heavier than usual. You've been isolating yourself for god knows how long and your voice seems so uninterested in everything." Matthew looked down at his hands. "I...I've been there before you know...I know stuff...I know things that can probably help you if you let me."

She supposed her absence from Matthew's life and her appearance gave everything away. Matthew was always the smart one. The most emotionally aware person she's ever met.

"So it's that obvious?" (Y/n) let out a dry laugh. "I'm okay, Mattie, I'm just a little tired from everything. Work is putting a lot of stress on me, you know? I've been getting through it. I haven't done anything too outrageous, I suppose. I should be okay."

Another excuse to push away someone who's concerned. Great.

"But, you know there's eventually going to be a point where you will do something, right?" Matthew mumbled. He moved closer so he could keep their conversation more private. "Look I'm super worried about you."

"You sound like my other friend," (Y/n) smiled.

"Are you saying another person knows?" 

"Yeah. Doesn't really matter though. Not like it's taking over. I still have a bit of control over my life." (Y/n) shrugged, "It's been going at it for a while, but I don't really care if I'm miserable about it or not. I'll get over it, maybe, and then I'll be okay."

"You can't just keep denying it exists. If you need help then you need help," Matthew spoke. He was going to go off on some tangent about getting aid for her mental illness.

But he doesn't. He doesn't want to push her boundaries. There are different types of people that deal with their own issues. If she can handle it her own way, then he'll let her. He just wanted her to know that he knows what going on. 

"Look...if you ever need to call someone or you want to just talk to them in person, I'm available. You already have my number and stuff so feel free to, okay?" He gently leaned against her. It was his way of giving her comfort. "I'm literally right across the door. Just give me a knock and Kuma will just start barking at me to get to the door. I'm sure the lil guy doesn't mind helping out."

"You're the second person to offer me help you know?" (Y/n) giggled. "Said the exact same thing, actually."

"Oh?" Matthew smiled, "Well I'm certainly not going to be your last, nor am I going to be just your backup caller. Not saying that you should give me a call first, but...just a suggestion."

"I'll think about it Mattie," (Y/n) hummed, "For now...Let me try and sort through this myself. Just need some time, that's all."

And a lot of distractions. 

"I hope you know that I'm putting a lot of trust into youto keep yourself in check," Matthew murmured.

"And I promise I won't let you down."

(Y/n) sent him a small, authentic smile. Matthew kept himself pressed against her, although, he made sure not to put his entire weight on her. The woman returned the gesture and they balanced each other out.

For the rest of that day, Matthew put as much effort into making her happy. He invited her over to her house to help him cook dinner for two. After dinner, (Y/n) stayed over longer to watch a recorded hockey match with the blonde. It was easy to say that Matthew enjoyed it more than she did, but she liked the company. Once the night ended, Matthew walked her back to her home.

(Y/n) lingered at the frame of her front door. "Thanks for hanging out with me, Mattie. I really appreciate it." 

"It's no problem," Matthew smiled, "Besides...we needed to have one soon anyway." 

The duo whispered their good nights and soon (Y/n) locked her doors. She received a text from her friend and it put a smile on her face. "Don't be a stranger! I mean it this time! Don't disappear on me :(" the text read. The woman replied "I won't. Don't worry. I'll try not to, but I can't make any promises! <3" 

(Y/n) fixed herself up for the night. Now basking in the silence of her cold home, she was left with her thoughts. They drifted back to what she believed was her lover. Jones presented himself in her mind with a smile, with his lips mouthing out "how was your day, angel?" The woman was caught in the conversation and stood in the bathroom for a while. 

She took herself out of reality for a bit, eventually snapping out of it 30 minutes later. The woman finished her routine and headed to bed, where she spent more time dissociating until her body decided to fall asleep. By the time she woke up in the morning, the sun was already high in the sky. Another breeze swept by her room, placing a kiss on her cheek this time. 

It was 11 am.

The woman stays in her bed, stuck in another daze. Her mind raced with images and words, with her heart gathering emotion. The morning dread was typical and it kept her anchored on her mattress. Her hands lay limp and her feet refused its purpose. There she kept her attention on her mind, where she reveled in the thoughts of being held. 

Her dream gave her comfort in the motionless shell she called a body. 

But she was, again, brought back to reality with her stomach.

It was already 2 pm.

(Y/n) gathered up all the strength she could to push herself up. Her feet dangled above the floor. Her heels hit the box below. The letters. There they sat in their home, waiting to be opened by her. The woman stood up and trudged through the home, getting ready for another day of doing absolutely nothing. 

She stayed in her bathroom for a moment, her eyes blankly staring at the sink. Her mind wanders and continues to do so. 

Jones. Jones...Jones.

Whispering the soldier's name, she smiles but was brought back to a frown after a while. His image disappears in her mind, tucked away by her remaining sanity. (Y/n) moved her body to approach the box under her mattress. She followed her routine, ripping the envelope and studying the parchment inside. Another ramble formatted like a letter. Always addressed to his darling angel. But lacked the tear stains.

She didn't read further and didn't press for a deeper analysis. 

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) whispered.

To my dearest angel, It's difficult to say these things to you. You know you mean so much to me, but sometimes I wonder if you feel the same way. I know you do, I'm praying you do, but sometimes at night, I think. I think about a lot of things that I want to pick out of my head. Those awful thoughts rot my brain. It's why I rarely don't think, but I do, sometimes. I'm doubting. I thought in the past that I no longer had doubts about everything and accepted fate as it is, but there's this itching idea in the back of my head. It's saying that you don't love me. You don't care about me. It's why you never send any letters back. But I know it's different. I know you're working hard back at home. Even if you aren't saying anything back to me, I know you're looking at the same moon and stars, regardless of where I am. It's because I remember. You remember how I told you I'd be your moon right? And that you'd be my stars. I still think it's us up there. I wish it was truly like that, so I don't have to worry about anything anymore. So that I could just have you up there and we'd be at peace together in the same sky.  In the same place. In the same home. You know, I feel awful, baby. I feel like everything I've built up in life, everything I've worked for is falling apart in front of me. I feel like a worthless sack of shit that keeps trying to rebuild and rebuild, but it's hard. I'm running out of bricks and my brain refuses to keep itself sane. I can't sleep at night anymore but I can barely keep myself awake in the morning.  I miss my ma, my pa, granddad, grandma. I miss everyone. I miss life back at home. Most importantly, I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss kissing you, bringing you gifts, and holding you. It's too cold at night. Too quiet. Makes me get shaky and jittery. There's no one to hold, but, the thought of you just makes me really happy. Helps with the night shakes. Keeps me going, truly. I'd love to keep thinking about us, but the doubts really steer my brain the wrong way. I hope I'll find some way to claw them out of there. I'll find a way, eventually, but I promise you no harm will happen. I'll try and keep myself in peace so you'll still see me as the guy you fell in love with. I'll forever keep you in my prayers and in my thoughts. Dearly yours,  A.F.J

"I'll have you in my thoughts too," the woman softly spoke. "Forever."

She started at the paper before her. Although he seemed to be ill, he still has some hope inside him. He's a dedicated man...and (Y/n) will equally be as dedicated as him.

(Y/n) smiled before placing the usual, lingering kiss against the paper. Although there was no way to contact him, she could only hope that his spirit knows that someone loves him as much as he loved his girlfriend. Her lips departed and she tucked the letter back into its home.

"I'll see you tomorrow, baby," she whispered.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 10: " They don't understand. "✎▫✧⭒…

Sun rays peeked through the young woman's blinds as she lay dormant in bed. Beside her was her phone which played music from her favorite playlist. The room was mostly quiet, aside from the songs that came and left every few minutes. (Y/n) continued to stare at her blank ceiling with her mind churning and grinding its gears. There were many thoughts running through her head. A part of her wanted to get up, but her body refused to move at all. 

It was like something was keeping her there. Her blanket held her down in a warm embrace, but she wanted to get up.

It might have been more than just her blanket holding her down today. 

The thought of opening another letter from Jones made her want to stay in bed longer. Opening a new letter signified the start of the day. She could skip opening a letter today to help herself, but she remembers doing that before.

It happened a few days ago before she hung out with her mother. Strong feelings wouldn't rise up until halfway through the day. Guilt ate her up that day, all because she never opened a letter from Jones that day.

She felt guilty because her mind thought that she was abandoning Jones. She had already told herself that she would be there for Jones, and yet she didn't even say good morning to him that day. 

The woman wasn't aware of how bad her attachment is. She had an idea but didn't think it was severe to the point where she felt tied to him. The letters seemed more like a burden to her rather than light reading. 

But did she want to move on from Jones? No. Not when she felt as if she had some duty to uphold to the soldier.

who is most likely already dead. 

She lingered in her spot longer, until she heard her phone buzz. Her head turned to look at the phone before she moved slowly moved her arm. She answered the call that came through and brought it closer to her mouth. 

"Good morning." Her voice was hoarse. 

"Vee~ Buongiorno, (Y/n)!" Felicia replied over the phone. "You sound very sleepy? Did you just wake up?" Hearing her friend's voice brought a smile to the young woman's face. Finally, some movement happened. 

"I just woke up recently," the woman lied, "I should have woken up earlier than this. Are you coming by right now? I can get out of bed." She would try, anyway. 

"No no! I was just calling to let you know when I'll be coming by! It might just be me today. Claire said she doesn't want to go out of the house today since she has a lot of work at home to do and Sorella is busy at work so it'll be just the two of us! Sorry to change our plans!"

"It's okay. I don't mind hanging out with you alone Felicia. Besides, we'll have more time for ourselves, you know?"

(Y/n) could hear the Italian woman squeak through the speaker. A small laugh leaves her lips as she turned her body over. More movement meant good news for (Y/n). She listened to Felicia talk about the plans for today, even if she's already heard these before. With these distractions at play, (Y/n) no longer thought about Jones.

She no longer felt paralyzed. 

"I'll see you later, okay?" Her voice was growing louder, although still a bit hoarse. Felicia bid a small goodbye to her friend. (Y/n) put her phone down back on her bed while her music continued to play. Her (e/c) eyes stare up at the ceiling again. She hums as her thoughts continued to roam around in her mind. Each one fought for her attention, but she didn't seem to focus on them right now. 

The young woman moved her fingers a little to show see if she was moving or not. When little wiggles turned to wrist flicks, she escalated to move the lower part of her body. (Y/n) propped herself up, her blanket running down her chest. She moved it aside. She slipped in her slippers before walking to her closet to gather clothes. She wanted a cute outfit that fit the season. 

Spring, although it was turning to Summer soon.

She continued to the bathroom, where she took a long warm shower. She lost the habit of staying in the shower for a short while. She liked having long, warm showers since it felt like her blanket warming itself around her. It was a comforting feeling, especially since she hadn't been feeling like herself recently. Her water bill could suffer for all she cared. 

She needed comfort and that warm embrace. 

(Y/n) turned off the water and stepped outside. She gently pats a towel around her before getting dressed. She moved to the mirror to get her face ready. A natural look would look good today. Humming softly, she entered her bedroom again. She subconsciously approached her bed.

The box was underneath the bed at the exact spot she stood. 

Her smiling lips faltered to a frown. Her mind started to turn its attention to Jones again and she found it hard to move. She couldn't do anything. Her stomach gnawed at her, biting and twisting and turning until she gave it attention. 

She decided to pull out the wooden box and look at the bundle of letters. 

There weren't as many as the rest have been opened. The end of these letters was coming close. How many more months of letter opening should she go through now? Three? Three more? She wasn't sure. It was already May. 

Would there be a change in his pattern of letters? She wished that there was. She wished that whoever was writing these letters, be it Jones or someone masquerading as a World War 2 soldier, reveal that it was all a prank or that it'll end out well. She wouldn't know what's worse though.

Falling in love with someone's character that wasn't even real in the first place, or someone that had been alive in the past and is now dead. 

The latter? No, maybe the former. 

(Y/n) picked a letter from the small stack and sat on her bed. She gently ripped open the envelope and plucked out the paper. She hesitated to unfold it, expecting the worse to come from him. 

"Please be okay," (Y/n) whimpered. She doesn't know how long her mental health can keep eating up Jones' sorrow and making it her own. She was clearly already dwindling, but she wanted to stay strong for Jones. It was all for him after all. 

"What do you have for me today, Jones?" She pretended to be oblivious. 

She already knew the answer.

Her eyes scanned the paper in her hand. It didn't have the normal letter format, rather, it looked like a journal scrap that made its way to the envelope. It couldn't be from a journal though, since it was the same size as standard letter paper. 

A pitying smile made its way to (Y/n)'s face as she stared at the words. It looks rushed, with words some illegible. Some of the words were crossed out and replaced. There were tear stains on the paper again. 

He's rambling.

I was having a good day today, for once, but then all of a sudden Alex puts me in a room with Charles. We sit around for a few minutes and then, all of a sudden, Charles starts talking. Charles says that he shouldn't be in the same room as someone useless and incompetent. I know damn well he was referring to me because of that look he gave me. I know my glasses are broken and I can barely see without them, but I know that look of disdain.  I don't even know what I did to provoke that sort of response?! I was just sitting there! I didn't even look at him! I know he hates me. I know he blames me for everything. I know he blames me for James' death. I know he blames me for us being here. He doesn't say it outright but I know damn well that it's what he's feeling. But come on, I didn't even look at him and he still chooses to put me down. I didn't want to say anything to him. I already know the truth. I already know all the things he hates me for. I hate myself for those things too, I don't need him telling me what he hates about me. I already tell myself the same shit, it wouldn't be any different.  The conflict would have been avoided if I just left the room, I know, but I didn't want to leave. I was doing it for Alex. It looked like he had good intentions, although, I'm not sure if it was like that. He wants me to reconcile with Charles so we could work together again. Alex said so himself, since I didn't say anything to defend myself. It made Charles angrier though.  I wanted to continue the silence, but then, he said something so fucked up. I don't have pride in myself anymore, but I have pride in my relationship. Charles can talk shit about me all he wants but as soon as he talked shit about my girl, everything just seemed like a bottle blowing up. He has no right sullying my girlfriend's name, especially when the bastard has one of his own.  I remember his words vividly. "You're still thinking about that broad of yours huh? You're always prioritizing her over what's going on over here but does she do the same? No. No, she doesn't. What do you think she's doing now that you're not back at home? She doesn't even send you letters back. For all we know she could be marrying someone else now!" It makes me want to scratch and tear my head. I want those words out of there but there's a stupid echo and I just don't know what to do anymore.  I don't want to think that she has someone in our bed. I don't want to think that there's another guy in her life. I'm doing so much for her. I don't want to think about that.  No. NO. He doesn't understand. He can't understand. How could he? He was never there to see it happen. He was never there to see her. He says I'm selfish for prioritizing her over everyone else. Well of course I would! She's my everything. She's all I have. She's all I'm clinging on to because I clearly can't tell anyone else what the hell is going on with me. He would understand if he cared more about his damn girlfriend. I hate him. I hate him for it. I hate him.  He doesn't understand. He says I'm crazy over a relationship. I don't give a shit about him anymore. He can go to fucking hell for what he says.

(Y/n) stared at the letter in her hands. She thought about how a journal scrap could have made its way inside the envelope. Maybe he had confused it for something else? Why would he treat this letter like a journal and proceed to send it back home? It was odd. She can't piece together Jones' thought process for this one. 

Maybe the soldier was thinking that if his beloved saw the letter, she would sympathize with him? Well, it was kinda working for her. A part of her sympathized with Jones, but it could just be her way of trying to make him feel better.

Still, she didn't want to think much into it. Her mind didn't want to work too much today, considering that she has to conserve her energy to keep up with Felicia today.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Jones," is all she could say. She wished there were more words.

The woman pressed her lips against the paper and tucked it back into its envelope. She hid it away in her drawer and sighed. 

(Y/n) walked around her home and visited her backyard for some fresh air. She needed to pass time and she needed to distract herself. She can't think about the soldier she had to care for. She needs to think about herself.

If she had the capacity to do that anyway. 

The woman stood around in her backyard and stared at the lush trees around her. She learned something on the internet that helped with a busy mind. It said to have something else in her brain. It was best to distract herself from the topic she constantly thought about.

She tried thinking about anything else, but her mind drifted off into the faceless soldier. His pain managed to nestle itself in her chest. Her lips pursed into a frown. She sighed and closed her eyes.

She needed to calm down. 

For a moment, she tried being still. She erased everything in her mind, from thoughts about today's outing to thoughts about Jones. She worked tirelessly to push everything aside just to have a piece of clarity and peace.

Calm. 

Composed.

Happy.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. That must be Felicia.

(Y/n) sighed and pulled out her phone. She wore a smile as she entered her home again to grab her things. She could hear the cheerful Italian ramble in the speaker as she walked to the driveway. There Felicia was, sitting in her bright red sports car. 

"Ciao, Bella!" Felicia called over, "Come on! Get in here before I race out of here! They have a sale at the plaza today and I want my hands on the new Prada bags!"

The young woman rolled her (e/c) eyes and got inside the passenger seat. She buckled up and rested her back against the leather seats. She took in a deep breath as she looked around. Nothing much has changed, except for the new smell of flowers. The last time she had been in this car, it smelled like cherries.

At least the smell isn't strong.

"I haven't been in your car in ages, Feli. I forgot how comfortable these chairs are," (Y/n) mumbled. She pulled the lever to recline her seat just a bit.

"I changed the leather a few weeks ago so I don't know how it feels to other passengers. Sorella told me not to change them because they would be too tight or something like that. I don't know what's she's on most of the time!"

Felicia pulled out of (Y/n) driveway and drove off. 

The drive to the shopping center was quiet, aside from the radio. It played a variety of tunes, ranging from English, Italian, and Spanish. Felicia had offered (Y/n) the aux cord but the woman refused, saying that she was too embarrassed to put on her own music. 

They argued about it for a bit before Felicia let it go. She was happy regardless of whether (Y/n) played her music or not. 

Once the women pulled up at the parking lot, Felicia made sure to lock her car and made sure that everything inside was secure and out of place. The woman patted her short skirt and fixed the ruffles of her top. She put her sunglasses up, showing her bright brown eyes to (Y/n). 

The woman's (e/c) eyes stared at them and sent a small, tired smile. She felt her friend hook her arm on her own and dragged her outside of the parking lot. (Y/n) assumed that they were headed to the high-end fashion boutiques today, which are things that she couldn't really afford. The items inside were pretty but they were never really something she could get. 

The (h/c) haired woman followed the cheerful brunette's steps as they walked around the mall together. Every once in a while, Felicia would look down at her phone and eagerly type something. (Y/n) had to take the lead, which made them wander around. 

(Y/n) was almost confused as to why she was letting her lead, especially since she doesn't keep track of where the high-end fashion stores are at. The woman looked at her friend, who still stared at her phone. She saw the curious curl at the end of her hair bounce with every step.

"Hey," the (h/c) woman called out to her, "weren't you in a rush to get to the Prada store or something?" 

Felicia looked up from her phone. "Oh!" she squeaked, "Mi dispiace! I was! Sorella just kept texting me about Claire. Says I should get her something in the Prada store while we're there. I guess I ended up daydreaming about what to get her. Why are you asking?"

"Because I've been leading us around and I didn't want to ask where the store is," (Y/n) confessed. "We've been walking for like... 20 minutes anyway, so it's not really a big deal. How long is the sale gonna last?"

"For the entire day," Felicia answered. Their walking pace slowed for a moment. The brunette took in the information and (Y/n) watched as her lips twisted into a smile. 

"We can just visit the Prada store last! Or even all of the high-end stores last!" The Italian looked at her friend, "You're okay with that right? We can visit the stores you want to go to first while I think about what to get for Claire! And maybe for sorella too!"

"Are you sure? Isn't it first come first serve for stores like that?" (Y/n) frowned, "We can always just visit your stores first before we can explore the place, that way we could finish shopping for your things. We can just do window shopping afterward."

"Yeah but if we do mine first, we're going to be carrying a lot of bags."

"True." A sigh of defeat leaves the (h/c) haired woman's mouth. "We can do window shopping for now, but you have to tell me where to go afterward."

There was a bright look on the Italian's face. Looks like she was scheming something again, but (Y/n) doesn't know what. Frankly, she doesn't want to know what her friend has up her sleeve this time. The young woman focused her attention elsewhere, letting Felicia cling on to her arm.

(Y/n) had to look at her banking app first to see if she had enough funds inside her bank. She doesn't want to milk herself dry, especially when she has some bills to pay this month. She looked at her numbers and softly smiled.

She had enough to indulge herself today. She put her phone away in her pocket and stared straight ahead. They wandered around the complex together, visiting stores that interested (Y/n). 

Felicia would follow her like a puppy. She made comments about everything the woman pulled from the racks and shelves. They were pretty light and some were questions.

Whenever they were near the register, the brunette would pull out her wallet and offer to pay it for her. (Y/n) would always turn her down and pay for her own things. Felicia would buy things for herself too, but they were small things like jewelry and trinkets. 

The women agreed to share the burden of carrying the bags. Felicia tried to take most of the work for this too. They had a small disagreement before Felicia let it go. (Y/n) had a small smile to show that she felt happy winning that one. 

Felicia and (Y/n) took their lunch break after an hour of shopping. They rested at a restaurant inside the complex that cooked Italian food. It was apparently a place that Felicia frequented whenever she visited this building. The two women gently sipped their drinks and talked amongst themselves, with Felicia leading the conversation. She mostly talked about her family, her relationships, and the paintings she's been doing. 

Things were going smoothly for the women, but then Felicia focused the light on her friend.

"How about you? How have you been feeling?" There was concern in her friend's voice. That look in her light brown eyes said everything too. (Y/n) could see out of the corner of her eye that Felicia was reaching her hand toward her friend. Of course, the woman let their hands link to one another as a sign of comfort. She wanted to know that she was doing ok.

Well... mostly okay, anyway.

"I'm okay," (Y/n) lied. 

The last thing she wanted was for her friend to get worried about her. She was glad that she didn't have to put too much effort into things since Felicia takes her word for it. 

It made (Y/n) feel bad, but she had to.

Felicia's eyes brightened up again and a smile was seen on her face. "I'm glad! That's very good!" The Italian squeezed her friend's hand. "What about relationships? Have you found anyone special yet? Like, come on it's been months! Surely you're seeing someone by now!"

The young woman didn't know what to tell her friend. As a response, she nervously laughed. Felicia didn't seem to think that she was making her friend uncomfortable. The Italian was staring her down, expecting an answer. 

(Y/n) had to lie again and doing so ate up her consciousness. A wide smile made its way to her (s/c) face as she connected eyes with Felicia. 

"I'm not really seeing anyone and I'm not really interested in seeing anyone right now."

But her heart yearns.

"Oh! Well, that's okay! If you ever need like, you know, some people to know, I have a few options!" Felicia giggled. Her friend nodded and made her smile smaller.

"It's okay. I think I'll find love on my own terms," (Y/n) spoke. 

Their conversation seemed to die down, as (Y/n) didn't want to carry over to something happening in her life. It was strange for Felicia. Her behavior for the past few months really has been concerning and it's come to the point where it's bothering Felicia. She's been friends with this woman for a while now and she cares about everyone in her friend circle.

She knows the little things and sees signs of when friends aren't feeling well. Felicia figures that her friends could just fix their own things without having her around, but it seemed that (Y/n) was still struggling with something. 

She had been eating up (Y/n)'s words without actually digesting them. 

The Italian reached over and grabbed her friend's hands.

"Call me later," Felicia spoke in a hushed voice.

"Why?" (Y/n) asked, tilting her head to the side. It was so out of the blue.

"Just do it, okay? If you don't call me later, I'll call you. I'll spam your phone if you don't pick up! I'm already warning you!" The brunette tried making her threat lighthearted by giggling. 

The other woman nodded and hummed. After their agreement, they finished resting at the restaurant and returned to their shopping trip. (Y/n) followed Felicia around this time and stood beside her. She didn't know much about designer fashion and gave comments when necessary. Felicia made most of her purchase and soon it was time for them to go home. 

The bags were placed in two separate corners so the two could differentiate which ones belonged to who. They retreated inside the car, where they would rest for a few minutes. Soft music played on Felicia's radio as the two women leaned against their seats.

It was silent between them again, with a few "vee~"s from Felicia. (Y/n) thought about the call. It made her a bit anxious. She thought she could lie her way out of Felicia's grasp again, but she finally caught on today. She wanted to believe it was something else though, like maybe buying an engagement ring for Claire. 

Knowing Felicia though, she would happily talk about that in public.

Just what did she want to talk about in private?

As (Y/n) was lost in thought, Felicia started her car. The soft growl of the engine caused the other woman to snap out of it. The (h/c) haired woman propped her chair up so she could sit comfortably and buckled her seatbelt. Without warning, the Italian sped off.

The drive was calming and quiet. Felicia seemed satisfied with her shopping today and was glad to hang out with her friend. When she pulled up to (Y/n)'s driveway, she helped her with the bags. When Felicia was escorted to her car, she gave (Y/n) a tight hug. The women lingered there for a while before (Y/n) tapped out.

"If you stay here any longer, you won't be able to give those gifts to Claire," (Y/n) hummed, "I'll be fine here. If you call later, I promise I'll pick up."

"You better!" Felicia grinned, "You'll never hear the end of it from me if you don't."

The woman smiled back. "I will. Don't worry."

They exchanged "good nights" before Felicia drove back home. (Y/n) lingered on her front lawn for a while. Her eyes stared at the empty streets, contemplating everything. A soft breeze hitting her face ushered her inside. After locking the front door, she slumped on the couch in the living room and turned on the tv to have some background noise. 

She rested her head back and looked up at the ceiling. She sighed softly to herself.

There were a lot of things in (Y/n)'s mind. From the thoughts about Jones to what topics Felicia would talk about in their call. It was like wandering around a dark, dense forest. Her yearning for Jones was taking a hold of her though, as it mostly occupied her thoughts. 

The letter from this morning.

It wasn't meant to be sent back home.

Whatever the letter was originally supposed to be is now gone. 

Did the originally mean anything to her though? If it followed the same pattern and same tone that Jones has in every letter, then it doesn't really make much of a difference. It'll still be pages of words filled with an anguished man's thoughts. There was nothing good in any of the letters anymore. The piece of her that hoped for something positive in the letters is quickly dying.

Why does it continue to persist?

Maybe it's because she wanted Jones to be okay in the end.

(Y/n) continues to lounge in her living room and doesn't leave until she had to get up and eat dinner. Doing her regular nightly routine, she ends up in her bed with a refreshed face and a warm blanket around her. Her (e/c) eyes stare up at the ceiling as her brain focused on Jones again. 

Her phone played songs to fill the noise, but that would soon come to an end when her phone starts buzzing. 

Felicia. 

(E/c) eyes stare at the letters on the screen. She knew Felicia would confront her about something. She wanted to hide but she had already promised. Maybe it'll end up being something completely different. Maybe it'll help distract her. It would help her with whatever is going on with her right now. 

(Y/n)'s lips pursed together as she answered her friend's call. She put it on speaker since she didn't want to bother sitting up. She could hear the background on Felicia's end. Her sister is in the background talking and she could hear another voice. That must be Claire.

"Ciao!" Felicia greeted, "I'm glad you picked up! I was really going to keep calling you until you picked up the phone." The woman snickered. (Y/n) kept her eyes on the ceiling, a small smile appearing on her face. It was nice hearing Felicia's voice. It cleared up her mind a little. 

The two women exchanged their greetings and asked each other if they had eaten dinner. Things were light between them, but the conversation started diving into (Y/n)'s personal life.

"Is something going on with you, (Y/n)" Felicia asked, "You've been out of it for the past few months. I didn't really want to say anything about it because I thought it was really personal. I didn't want to sit around and see you mope around though. I'm really worried about you, you know. If you need to say something, say it, I'm here to listen."

Words raced through the (h/c) haired woman. As much as she liked Felicia taking concern over her, she wasn't sure if Felicia would shun her for her problems. She might not. She doesn't seem like the type. The shame was forming inside (Y/n)'s chest as she thought about her problems. 

Her attachment to Jones was the source of her change.

But she didn't know if she should say something about it.

(Y/n) kept her frown as she stared at her blank ceiling. Silence took over their call. Sometimes something could be heard from Felicia's side of the phone. 

"Are you-"

"I have someone in my mind, Felicia," (Y/n) confessed. 

It was better to come clean and tell someone about how she was truly feeling. Bottling it all up wouldn't be any good. The thought of telling someone about the whole Jones situation was overwhelming her, though. She only spared hints to close family, but never to friends. 

Felicia stayed silent. Nothing was heard from her background either. She must have hidden in her room for some privacy. (Y/n) appreciated the effort she spent. It meant a lot to her that she cared so much. 

(Y/n) took her time to explain everything that's happened to her for the past few months. She got some motivation to walk around her room. She converted the voice call to a video call so she could show Felicia the letters she's been storing inside her drawers. She pulled out the card that Jones sent home and the fragile pressed flower.

Felicia stared in awe at her friend's collection of relics.

"You can sell those you know! The letters can be put in a museum and stuff!"

The (h/c) haired girl looked at her friend, her eyes wide. "I can't...I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I want to keep them."

"But why? Wouldn't they just be sitting in your drawer all year? You have a piece of history in your hands! Wouldn't you want to share that with other people?"

The woman shook her head. (Y/n)'s lips arched into a frown as she held on to the letters in her hands. These were from the first few months when she could feel Jones smile.

"Why not?"

There was that question again.

This time, (Y/n) can't seem to answer.

They were quiet again. The (h/c) haired woman considered Felicia's suggestion of giving them away. That thought made her bitter. She'll break the promise she made to him. She can't do that. She doesn't want to give Jones away.

(Y/n) tried her best to think of words she could say to her friend. She had some, but they were stuck in her throat. Something was keeping them there.

Fear bubbled in her stomach as she clung to the letters tightly. 

The fear of being judged poisoned her. It mixed with the bitterness she had previously. 

She didn't feel good.

"(Y/n)," Felicia called out to her friend.

The woman was frozen in her spot. (Y/n) kept her head down as she stared at the letters in her arms. He didn't belong to her, but she didn't want to lose him.

"I can't lose him, Felicia," (Y/n) spoke. Her voice was shaky and breathy. "There's no one to remember him. I don't think he has a family."

Everything was still for a moment.

"You don't know that. He might already be dead. There's nothing to lose, (Y/n)." Felicia's voice was softer this time. There wasn't a hint of disgust, but pity. "There's something more, isn't there?"

(Y/n) breathed in as she looked down at the letters in her hands. Her finger ran down the sides of the envelopes. 

"Don't tell me that you love him."

The silence was enough for Felicia to piece it together. Felicia's lips arched into a frown.

"How many letters do you have, (Y/n)?"

"91 letters left."

Felicia took in a deep breath. "(Y/n)." Her soft voice trailed off. "I don't want to tell you what is right and what's wrong, but you have to know that this is taking a toll on your mental health. The recent letters aren't going to make you any happier."

"I know," (Y/n) responded. "I just feel bad for him."

"And you love him."

"I do."

(Y/n) studied the envelope in her hand, then one by one she placed them inside their drawer. She heard Felicia sigh once more.

"I don't want to dictate what you can and can't do...but I want to help you. Just talk to me whenever you're feeling down, okay? If I can't help you with your relationship with Jones, then at least let me be there for you." 

The (h/c) haired woman knows that her friend was feeling down too. A small smile appeared on her face as she looked at her friend again. "Thank you, Felicia."

Felicia shared the smile with (Y/n). The women bid each other good night before they hung up. The room sat still, with (Y/n) back in her bed. Her eyes stare up at the ceiling once more. 

She can't guarantee that she'd always talk to Felicia about how she's feeling. She might have opened the bottle for tonight, but she'll close it again. It'll stay like that for a while.

For now, anyway.

(Y/n)'s consciousness slipped from her grasp as the night progressed. Her mind didn't run a dream tonight. She didn't see her imaginary version of Jones and she fears that it will slip away too.

What was there to do?

Nothing.

The dark shifted today as the sun rose. The morning birds cried their songs as the wind blows through the tree branches. There (Y/n) laid in her bed, eyes open, with the familiar sight above. Eyebags lay under her eyes. Her body was motionless, but her brain was racing. 

There was nothing to do today. 

(Y/n) eventually crawled out of bed and into the bathroom. There she took a long, warm shower, got changed into new clothes, and refreshed her face. She pulled the corners of her lips to smile, but it reverted back to a neutral frown. She didn't linger there. She knew she had business today.

She had to open another letter from Jones. Her heart raced with its little amount of hope. It wished for today's letter to be joyful. 

Her hands grabbed the box underneath her bed and plucked an envelope out. She tore through and brought out the piece of paper. This one seemed to be properly written like a letter. There were no odd markings on its surface and it was neat cursive handwriting.

A moment of peace, it seemed, but will it be filled with the same enthusiasm? 

A smile appeared on (Y/n)'s face once again. 

"Good morning Jones," she greeted.

Good morning, my angel, I'm not sure if you had done something to give me some sort of fortune today, but breakfast was good today. I don't think it's any better than what I've had back at home, but it's nice to have something fill me up. If it was your doing, or if by some chance, God took pity on soldiers today, I thank you and him. I wanted to ask if anything is good over there? I know that you don't send letters, but I would still like to know. Ma and Pa haven't really been telling me things. It's always about me and if I'm okay. Apparently, they heard from a few folks that this fighting isn't good for people's brains or something. Well, you know how I am. I told Ma and Pa that I'm okay, that I had been feeling okay. I know censorship is still strong over here, so I never really bother with telling them how I really feel.  I want them to be proud of me. It's the only thing that's giving me a sense of pride and dignity since I feel like I can't achieve it by myself anymore. You help out too. I know you're proud of me back at home. Whatever you're doing right now, I'm proud of you too. I know things aren't the best at home but I'm glad that you're doing all you can. You're pushing forward and jumping over hardships too.  I guess you can say that we're both soldiers, yeah? Except, I think you're more of a hero than me. That's the highest honor, babe, and you deserve it.  Well, whatever you're struggling with right now, I know you can come up with an answer to it all. Whatever the answer is, I'll be there to support you. In spirit, of course. I wish I could be there in person and hold you again, but it can't happen right now. All I can do for that is pray that luck is on my side again, and may it be on your side too.  Continue to stay safe and if you ever get letters from Ma and Pa, please write to them back. Don't tell them what's actually going on, though. Please keep these things between us only. I trust you.  Sincerely your beloved, A. F. J

(Y/n) stared at the letter in her hand, her lips cracking a smile. The bitter feelings nestled inside her stomach as she clenched the letter.

Luck be on her side? Luck left her side when she found the box of letters.

"I'm glad that you had a nice breakfast, Jones," (Y/n) commented. She followed her routine, but her lips lingered against the paper. She started thinking about a lot of things again, up to the point where it made her feel worse. Her smile skewed as her feelings dwindled again.

91 letters left.

Only 91 more days until it all ends.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 09: " It's all my fault. " ✎▫✧⭒…

The days continue to be gloomy as winter progressed. The weather matched (Y/n)'s recent array of emotions. As the days were grey and depressing, so were her moods. It seemed that the woman herself was slowly losing her own optimism.

The letters were mostly to blame for this occurrence.

They usually made her happy or broke her emotions. With the ones she had been reading the past month, nothing good was coming out of it. In turn, her emotions would mostly be pity or some form of frustration and sorrow.

The letters coming from the soldier were nothing but a ranting and rambling mess. They were shorter than they had been. They were only one page, and most of the time the topic was mostly about him speaking his mind.

He continued to confide in her and (Y/n) continued to listen to him. This in turn formed a bond where (Y/n)'s emotions were linked with his. His feelings happen to transfer over to her and she kept them in her chest. She had no one to turn to, fearing that she would be seen as an insane fool.

In a way, she already is.

The soldier had promised to keep his optimism, but he always broke it. It's not that (Y/n) could blame him for it. His mental state was deteriorating. His mind refused to move on and he still thought about his failed mission. It was clear that he had a hard time thinking about other things.

His paranoia about his friends made it worse too. He mentioned in one of his last letters that his friends complained about his absentmindedness. He thought it was an insult, when in fact, they were worried about him. The war was taking a toll on everyone's mind, yes, but Jones wasn't coping with it well. 

He still asks her if she still saw him as a hero. He's constantly looking for reassurance in his letters. Of course, (Y/n) would have said yes if she had the chance to send him a letter. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible at all. 

He asked for assurance in the letter this morning. (Y/n) knew his writing too well at this point. With tear stains on the paper, it was clear that he had suffered another mental breakdown. He had put himself down in this letter but still asked if he was still worthy of being called a hero. 

Thinking about the letter upset (Y/n) to the point where she found it hard to think about work. There she sat at her desk, staring at the computer before her. Her mind was drawing blanks and all she could think about was Jones. 

She wanted to hold the soldier and say how much she cares about him. His girlfriend could never be as supportive of her. If anything, she should have been the one for him. She was frustrated with herself, the world, and the soldier. If the universe had been kind, she would have been there for him. She could have told him how much she loved him.

(Y/n) hadn't realized how long she had been staring at her computer screen until her friend, Felicia, managed to sneak up on her. 

"Hey!" Felicia called out to her. The Italian woman's hands were placed on (Y/n)'s shoulders, snapping her out of her daze. 

"You know, you've been staring at that blank document for like thirty minutes. I'm surprised you haven't started blinking! You've got to hold the world record for that," Felicia joked around. 

"Felicia," (Y/n) spoke as she shook her head. She gently hung her head low and pinched the bridge of her nose, "How long have you been standing behind me?"

"Around 10 minutes or so. I wanted to see how long it would take you to snap out of it." The brunette snickered as she leaned to face her friend. "It's lunchtime you know. Maybe eating something can help you with work. If food doesn't help, then maybe taking a 30-minute nap would. There are some couches at the breakroom that you can sleep on."

"I'm not tired...I had enough sleep last night," (Y/n) replied. She stood up and grabbed her lunch underneath her desk. "I'm probably just hungry."

"Well, if that's the case, we should probably make out way to our table!" Felicia grabbed (Y/n)'s hand and dragged her to the breakroom. The Italian waved to other coworkers on the way there. (Y/n) kept her frown as she followed her friend, her mind still occupied by the letter. 

When they finally sat down, (Y/n) pulled out her lunch and started eating. She didn't utter a word to her friend, which was...different for Felicia. She knew that the young woman would have said something by now. The more Felicia thought about (Y/n)'s new habit, she realized this had been going on for a while. She always dismissed it as her friend being tired and all, but it's happened way too often now.

(Y/n)'s recent behavior worried the Italian.

"Are you okay?" Felicia said, tilting her head to the side.

"I am," (Y/n) replied, a smile crawling to her face, "Like I said, I'm just hungry."

"That's always your excuse. It's the same every day at this point!" the brunette frowned. She reached out to grab her friend's hand and gently squeezed it.

"If you're upset, I'm here for you, okay? I don't like it when one of my best friends is having a bad time. If there's anything bothering you, you can always give me a call and we can talk about it in person okay?"

The (h/c)-haired woman showed the small smile to her friend. "Of course. I'll keep that in mind Felicia. Thank you for the offer." 

It was hard to get anything out of (Y/n), especially when she was upset. Usually, (Y/n) didn't like talking to other people about her problems. She found it bothersome and she didn't want to bother her friends about them. She would handle things herself, especially with small worries.

It's obvious that this matter with the soldier was bigger than the other problems she had tackled before. 

(Y/n) believed she could do take it down just by herself. She assured herself that she just doesn't have a solution to it yet. 

Felicia continued to stare at her friend. She was stumped and hopeless. As much as she wanted to help (Y/n), she knew that she should give her space. She didn't want to make her uncomfortable so she didn't want to press further. The brunette didn't like the silence though, so she talked about something. 

The conversations were random, as they just sprang from Felicia's mind. 

After a few bites of her food, (Y/n) managed to start a conversation too. Food did help her mood, but the energy would only be short-lived. Thankfully it was enough to last for the entire lunch break.

(Y/n) and Felicia made their way to their workstations, and the young woman was back to staring at her blank document. Her mind drifted back to the soldier she wished to embrace. Her hands would work on their own though, as some part of her brain actually managed to take over. Her eyes might have been endlessly staring at the computer, but she did start working. 

Unfortunately, her burst of motivation happened around the end of her workday. 

(Y/n) made her way back home. She tossed her bag on the sofa as soon as she entered her living room. Her tv was turned on so that there was noise in the quiet home. She had to make dinner today, as she finished her leftovers last night. She hummed softly to herself as she worked by herself.

She tried making an effort to try and stop thinking about Jones. The woman feared that it might cause her attachment to get worse. As much as she loved the man, a more sensible part of her mind fought to detach herself from him. Although that will was weak, it still wanted to severe that before she becomes entirely dependent on him.

Just like how he depended on her. 

No...he's not dependent on her...right?

Yes he was.

Her delusions were forming in her head, and just like the soldier, her mind grew absent.

But she was strong, right? She could handle this problem and be there for Jones too. She didn't have to depend on anyone. No no...no one needs to help her. She can help herself. Her pride told her that she would be fine.

Her mind wandered again. (Y/n) smiled as she started thinking about the mysterious soldier. The images of him were of his smile. She thought about his appearance and constructed it to her standards. 

Sparkling eyes, a shining smile, gleaming glasses, and a green uniform. This version of Jones was akin to the older letters, the one she had opened months ago. She didn't want to think about a broken man. She wanted him whole and complete. 

Once dinner was ready, she started eating in the living room. She watched the videos on her screen with interest. Sometimes it made her smile. By the end of dinner, she felt better. Just a bit, anyway.

After washing dishes and getting herself ready for bed, the young woman sat at the edge of her bed. She stared at the drawer that held the letters. Her lips pursed into a frown as she thought about the letter from this morning. She reached out to open the drawer and hesitated. 

"Don't do it," her mind warned her. 

But she did it anyway.

Grabbing the letter atop the stack, she took out the stained, aged paper and started skimming through it again.

"Hey," (Y/n) spoke, a small smile on her face, "I just...wanted to hear from you again. Even if this letter isn't exactly uplifting." She softly sighed and hung her head low. "Jones...I'm here."  

Sweetheart,  Do you have any way to cope with losing someone close to you? I'm sure you might have had something like that happen to you right? If so, do you have any advice? I'm losing my mind over here and I just can't seem to think straight. I'm such a goddamn fool. What kind of soldier am I? I'm a goddamn horrible one at that.  I've asked you how you cope with someone because I don't know how anymore. I used to do it before but now with everything that's happening, everything just seems out of my control. I used to have control but now everything just seems to be falling apart in front of me.  If you want to know what happened. I can tell you. James died today. Earlier this morning and it's all my fault. Before you start trying to defend me, let me explain. I was at work today, scouting with James, and I take my eyes off of him for a minute so I could adjust my glasses. The next thing I knew, James was lying dead beside me with a bullet hole through his forehead. His body was limp and it was leaned against me. There was blood dripping down on my vest. It even went on some of my bandages.  Those bastards got a shot at him! I thought these guys were nicer than the ones we fought days before! I was so upset that I just sat there and froze. I couldn't stop looking at the body. I swear I tried looking away but I couldn't. It was so hard to. I don't know how to cope with the idea that my friend was just killed beside me. James and I were best friends back in college and to see him dead beside him just. I couldn't. I don't know....how I can comprehend this sort of thing. I can't think anymore. All I see are the faces of everyone I've killed.  How do you go on from that? I should have saved him. I should have taken that bullet for him. If I hadn't brought my head down and asked him to continue looking out for me, I could have been there to save him.  I've talked to Charles and Alex about it. Charles wouldn't give me anything. He refuses to talk to me. Alex has a hard time trying to face me right now. James' death would be added to the list of things they hate about me. I'm incompetent and I can't do anything right anymore. I've done so many wrong things in the past. I feel like I'm getting buried by it every day. My darling angel, do you have any words of advice for me. Please. All I ask is some sort of sign from you. If you're upset that I broke my promise to you about keeping away the bad details about all of this, then I'm sorry. Please forgive me for constantly breaking it. It's out of impulse at this point. All the words in my head are telling me to write it all down for you. I can't turn to Ma and Pa. I don't want them to get upset. I know I don't want you to get upset, but I know you're a forgiving soul. So please, god, just say that you forgive me. The first part of the letter ended there. There was another page, one that seemed more organized than the last few. It was almost like Jones took the time to compose himself. There was a part of her that was imagining the soldier writing the letters down with a forced smile on his face. I apologize for cutting the letter short in the first few pages. Thank you for listening to me, sweetheart. I can no longer keep my promise, but I will do my very best to be in high spirits. I adore you and I care about you. I continue to hope that you have the same amount of adoration for me too. Sincerely, your beloved, A. F. J.

(Y/n) smiled as she thought about what he asked. He was asking her advice on how to cope? Her way of coping through problems wasn't any better than any soldier out there during the war. She just pushes through and thinks about it later. When the emotions bottle up, that's when she looks for help. It's funny...she tried thinking about another way for him to cope earlier.

But she still came up with nothing. 

"I still don't have good advice for you, Jones" (Y/n) whispered, "All I have for you is adoration. It's all I can give to you." 

Her good feelings mixed with awful ones, creating a terrible concoction. Pity and adoration together were never a good mix. It tends to leave people confused and unsure about everything. (Y/n) thought she was unlike those people.

She was like them. She just refused to think she was unsure about her feelings for Jones. Her heart was dead set on loving him and that's all that mattered to her.

As a form of good luck, she pressed a kiss against the paper and bid him goodnight. 

At the first call of the morning crows, (Y/n)'s eyes flutter open. Her arms were wrapped around a pillow and her body was covered by her warm blanket. The blackbirds continue to chat amongst themselves, causing the noise. It was enough to fully wake her up. 

Gently she rubbed her eyes and yawned. Her hand took hold of her phone and she stared at the time. It was the weekend and Felicia had sent her a text last night. She was surprised that she didn't see this before. Perhaps she was too busy to look through her phone.

Felicia was checking up on her and made sure that she was okay. (Y/n) figured that she should respond to her, replying that she was okay and will be for the future. 

It was a lie. She couldn't guarantee that she'll be all smiles in the coming days. 

(Y/n) stayed in bed for a while. She scrolled through her social media. She found a lot of couples appear on her feed. The envy she felt for these people was enough to make her stomach turn. A frown found its way to her face as she went to a video streaming app. She didn't want to see those happy couples, especially since it wasn't her and Jones.

The young woman sighed as she picked a video to watch. There she laid in bed for the majority of the morning. As usual, she only got up when she felt her stomach ache, asking for food. She crawled out of her blanket's warm embrace and put on her slippers. She walked to the bathroom to get ready for the outing today. 

She placed enough skincare and makeup to make herself look presentable. She tugged the corners to make herself smile. 

"You wouldn't want dad to think something is wrong," (Y/n) told herself. She exited the restroom and changed her clothes before sitting on her bed. She grabbed the wooden box and picked the topmost letter. 

Her (e/c) eyes stare at the letter in her hand. Her stomach churned for another reason. The pity resurfaced again and she was unsure about opening the letter for today. The young woman put much thought into it.

She had already told herself that she would be there for the soldier. She would be his angel and his baby. She was already his star too. She could take on another role for him. 

The desire to be his angel was fueled by the fact that she couldn't be there physically. She couldn't send him letters so the least she could do was make it seem like she was there to support his spirit.

It sounded stupid, but it was what she could do.

She had to be there for him, even if hearing his rambles hurt her as much as it hurt him.

Gently she ripped the sides of the envelope and picked out the letter from inside. 

"Good morning, Jones," (Y/n) whispered, "What do you have for me today?"

Good morning sweetheart, Do you ever think about all the things you've done in the past? The choices you've made have gotten you up to this point. Have you ever thought about changing some of those so that the end would be different? I don't mean to pose an existential question but it's been plaguing my mind recently. It feels like the question is forcing my mind to rot from the inside out. I hate the feeling, but it's stuck there and I just can't. get. it. out. I want it out of there. I keep scratching my head as if it would help but I know that it doesn't.  I've been thinking about it too much. I keep thinking about what choice has led me to be in this predicament. Maybe it's because of how eager I was to join the war. I know it had to be something like that.  Maybe it might have been the way I've chosen my friends. Charles, Alex, and James wouldn't be here I had chosen other people to be my friends. Maybe if I hadn't befriended James, he didn't have to die that day. My friends didn't have to suffer through the war. They could have been some rich businessmen back at home. They could have stayed there and I could be here with other people. What if the choice of going to the bookstore and meeting you that day had an impact on my future? I wonder what it would be like? You wouldn't have to worry about a soldier who clearly is suffering from brain damage. You would have been a liberated woman, with no cares. You would have been single too, and maybe have met a better man. I know thinking about it right now is useless. I hate thinking about it too, but there's nothing else I could do. Charles and Alex wouldn't talk to me at all. They're still plotting against me. I can feel it. There's nothing to think of. It's so hard to get other thoughts in my head. I feel like every single topic I've loved before is just wiped from my memory. It feels like static in my mind. I keep spacing out, especially during my nighttime assignments. People have to shake me to get me to talk to them. I can barely hear people now. The fuzziness in my mind is getting to me, you know? Maybe...it's got to be this way since all of my choices led up to here. To now. I can't say I blame everything on the universe. Hey...I mean at least...it led me to you. Maybe that's a good thing. That's the only good thing. You're the only good thing. I don't want to lose you. I want to keep making choices that'll make sure I get back to you. I'll try to.Be safe back at home. I send my regards, always. I will write to you whenever I can. Sincerely, your boyfriend, A. F. J.

Jones asking existential questions wasn't out of the ordinary for (Y/n). If she were to look through every single letter for this month and picked out the ones with the questions, she would have half the stack. 

It was all the same for (Y/n). Nothing new was happening.

The woman wore a pained smile as she read the letter. She hesitantly brought the paper against her lips and let them linger. Her mind started thinking about a lot of things. Choices, mostly. His question was making her head churn. 

What if she had changed her choices. What if she had opened all of his letters at once. Would it make her life easier? Would she lose her attachment to him?

Her heart didn't have to ache for him if she had done things differently. She would have never have fallen in love with him.

The paper was placed down to her lap. Her (e/c) eyes stare at it and sighed.

Why did things have to be this way? Why did she lead her life down this road?

Her lips quivered as she felt emotions crash against each other. It brewed and formed a horrible emotion. Uncertainty and lack of understanding for herself. The woman's hands covered her face as she curled up. The bottle was filled to the brim. Some of its contents were spilling out. She couldn't control it.

Why did a dumb question break her control?

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) whispered, "I wish things turned out differently." She didn't know who she was saying it to. All she knew was that she just had to say it. To whoever listened to it, be it human or spirit.

Maybe she needed to cancel today's plans. She can't handle going outside and forcing a smile. No...she couldn't. Her father would worry. They were supposed to hang out today. She needed to make him happy. She had to push all of her feelings aside and force the bottle to close. 

(Y/n) let a few tears slip past her eyes before she ultimately had to stop. She went to the bathroom to wash her face again. She took in a deep breath as she looked at the sink. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter. 

"Get it together," she told herself. 

It was hard to.

Her body shook with frustration as she sighed again. She sucked it up. All of it. She practiced her smile in front of the mirror before she heard a familiar ring. It came from her phone. It must have been her dad. Taking in another deep breath, she placed one more smile on her face. She had to get through the day without crying. 

She didn't want her dad to worry. She didn't want anyone to worry.

It's ok. She could pretend she was ok. No one has to know. Not even her father.

No one.

She was okay...she will be. 

She hoped.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 08: " I am still a hero right? " ✎▫✧⭒…

It's been seven months and (Y/n) has gone through over 200 letters from a soldier she's never really heard of before. To everyone, he was unknown, but to her, he had a name.

Jones.

It was the last name that'll stick by her for a while until she reaches the end of the stack. She doesn't know how long he'll last, but she just knows that he'll be in her mind for quite some time. 

The young woman shuffled around in her bed watching whatever YouTube video was on her recommended page. Most of the stuff there was usually some weird or bizarre thing. Sometimes, the videos actually were related to her interest, but there was some odd stuff here and there. 

She had been watching a video about an in-depth iceberg on a topic that she's never really heard before. Who would have thought that there were weird rabbit holes on the internet? Seems like she hasn't explored much of it. After watching that video, she was sure that she wasn't going to reach out that deep on the internet. 

(Y/n) stayed in bed for another few hours until her stomach begged her to get out of bed and get something to eat. She mumbled words to herself as she crawled out of her blanket and out her door. She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed whatever was leftover from last night's dinner. 

The video on her phone continued to play as she heated up her meal for the afternoon. She hummed to herself as she tapped the counter. When her food was done, she grabbed a hold of it, put it on a plate, and sat at the dining table. 

She watched as she ate her meal. She held a few pauses here and there, as she was mesmerized by whatever was happening on her screen. It was a bad habit of hers. It would often leave her losing her appetite. (Y/n) continued to eat and finished it anyway.

The young woman made her way back to her bedroom and placed her phone down on the bed. She can skip her routine for today if she's just going to stay home all day. She grabbed the box of letters from her bed and picked the letter on top of the bunch. 

She stared at the letter in her hand. She was uncertain about opening it. She was happy to hear from him, but with the current state of his letters, she was unsure. She can't tell if she'll come out of this happy or not. (Y/n) leaned toward a joyful view of things and dismissed the worried thoughts in her mind.

"My little secret," (Y/n) whispered. She tore open the envelope and picked out a letter. Another paper fell out of the lined paper. It looked like a journal scrap. It was smaller than the usual paper size. Quietly, she scanned the paper.

"This...doesn't look like it's supposed to be here."

The majority of it looked to be a map, with some landmarks. Buildings look to be blown up. There was one that was circled with a cross. There were small squares on the ground. The words were almost scribbled. She could decipher some of them, like "unit 1" and "unit 2".

It was definitely written in a hurry. 

"Why...would you have this?" (Y/n) thought about it for a moment. Perhaps it was just a way for Jones to remember where to go. There were arrows leading to buildings and they all came from the same starting point.

Gently, she placed down the small scribbled map and turned her gaze to the letter.

"Good morning Jones," the young woman greeted, "I think you might have misplaced something."

Not that it would matter to him now.

Good evening sweetheart, It's been a while since I've been put back on duty and I think my ankle is doing just fine. It hurts sometimes, but with enough medicine to help me out, I'll be okay. I think I'll manage to get through the entire month in this state. It's way better than how I was before.  How have you been? I know I usually open my letters by asking about you, but I just thought that telling you the good news would make you happy. I hope it did. Did you eat yet? Maybe dinner or breakfast? Whatever it is, I hope it's a good meal. I've been stuck with canned food and crackers. There's nothing else and I can't really complain or else I wouldn't get food for the entire day.  I'm kidding. My commanding officer wouldn't let me do that. As much as he's an asshole sometimes, he's actually a really nice guy. Just...looking past the times he's gotten me really fatigued out in battle, he's still a really good guy.  I had a good day today, you know? I think the scouting missions went well. Everyone got out alive. It's such a blessing from god. It's...starting to get a bit fun again. I'm just a low-ranking soldier but going around with your fellow soldiers can give you power.  Running down with your fellow soldiers and gunning down enemies is a good time. As good of a time, it can get. You know, once you're shot up with adrenaline, it feels like an out-of-body experience. Nothing can faze you out of it. I suppose it's better than morphine. I'm no adrenaline junkie, of course! It just feels really good. I could still think straight too so I wasn't just some maniac running around and losing his mind. I'm doing so much, you know? I hope the government could give me some sort of compensation. Maybe a silver star, huh? I can't really aim for a medal of honor since I think that's unattainable. I still want to get rewarded. A hero has to be recognized right? Enough about the adrenaline rush and battles, I'm running out of paper again. Hey babe, I hope you're genuinely okay back at home. If I ever manage to nab some small souvenirs from my tour, I'll be sure to send them home. I'm not a kleptomaniac, I'm just putting the items to good use.  I'll write to you soon. Sincerely, your future husband, A. F. J.

(Y/n) smiled as she placed a kiss on the letter. He was healthy again, which was a good sign that he was taking care of his body. She was unsure if he was taking care of his mental health, but then again, it would be hard to know. The war and its sights can really take a toll on a person's mind. She wouldn't be surprised if he only kept fighting because of the adrenaline he felt. 

"Unfortunately...the country wouldn't give you much, Jones," (Y/n) mumbled, "I'm hoping whatever you studied in college gave you a good job when you came home. An economy major wouldn't have time finding something to work on right?"

She wasn't sure if it was like that. After all, she never studied it.

The young woman placed the letter back in its envelope and grabbed the tiny map beside her. This must have been Jones' map for the operation. Either he misplaced it or intentionally left it in the envelope. She'll keep it with her just in case. She doesn't want to throw it away.

(Y/n) placed the letter in the drawer and sighed. She heard her phone buzz beside her, catching her attention. It was her Canadian neighbor calling her. 

"Matthew?" she asked. She grabbed it and answered the call. "Hello?"

"(Y/n)," Matthew spoke over the phone, "Are you free for the day? I kinda need help with something. There's a bake sale I have to participate in. It's for a fundraiser and I would really appreciate it if you could help me."

"Sure," (Y/n) grinned and got up from her bed, "I'll be there in a bit, yeah?"

"G-Great! Thanks. Just ring the doorbell if you're outside," Matthew hummed. The duo bid each other a short "goodbye," before they moved to do something else. The young woman had originally planned on staying in bed all day but hanging out with her neighbor wasn't that bad of an idea. 

(Y/n) continued to do her morning routine and got dressed in casual clothes. She had to make sure she wore something warm and comfortable. Sure the walk to Matthew's house was a short walk, but the wind is chilly today. 

She grabbed her keys and her phone before heading out the front door. She made her way to the Canadian's inviting home. She was excited to talk to him again. She hasn't really called or chatted with him in a while. 

Both of them were busy this past week, so it was good to hang out.

The (h/c)-haired woman rang the doorbell and stood around. She grabbed her phone and pretend to look occupied. Matthew caught her eye when he opened the door for her. Beside him was his large Canadian Eskimo dog. The duo exchanged a small "hi."

"Kuma's been waiting by the door, you know?" Matthew grinned, "I told him you were visiting."

"Was he now?" (Y/n) smiled. She knelt down to pet the dog that eagerly wagged his tail. She gently cooed as she scratched the back of his ears, earning her a short whimper. 

"What a shame...I should have brought Kuma some treats," (Y/n) sighed.

"It's...actually good that you didn't," Matthew commented, "Well, he's getting plenty over here. Ever since my cousin keeps coming around, Kuma always gets a lot of treats."

(Y/n) stood up and looked up at Matthew. They shared a grin again before Matthew let her in. She followed in his footsteps, with Kuma trailing behind her. The large white dog tried to get her attention by whimpering again. 

"Kuma," (Y/n) laughed. Her (e/c) eyes connect with a soft bluish-purple pair. "He isn't usually like this whenever I visit? What's up with him?"

"He hasn't seen you in days so he's a big whining baby. I swear that dog loves you more than me," the Canadian mumbled. 

The duo made their way to the kitchen. Matthew gave his friend an apron and grabbed his pots and bowls. (Y/n) stood around and leaned against the island counters, her eyes watching her friend prepare for cooking. Her hand was petting the needy canine while the other tapped against the marble countertop. 

Matthew moved around and occasionally looked at his phone. He looked annoyed. Whenever he put it down, it buzzed like an earthquake. He got more frustrated.

"Is there a lot of stuff to bake?" (Y/n) asked, "Or...is someone blasting your phone?"

"A bit of both, actually. My cousin has been spamming my discord, asking me to join his Halo match because his European friends are offline. He's not much of a concern right now," Matthew frowned, "But for the baking stuff, some of the event planners are hoping I would bake a lot of treats. But there are a few others that are gonna bake their own things too so that takes off a lot of stress for me. It's a big order to go through."

"Well, if I have to stay here the entire day I'm okay with that," (Y/n) hummed. She approached her friend and peered over to look at the list. "Most of those are the stuff we already baked together, so it'll be easy. I've got your back, Matt."

Matthew clearly appreciated the assurance his friend gave him. The annoyed and worried expression he had on his face had disappeared. On his lips was a small smile. 

"Thanks." The blonde put his phone down and put his phone on silent mode. 

(Y/n) and Matthew started preparing the batter for their pastries and made their own frosting. It would take them around an hour to have a solid dough base. When it came to letting the dough sit, the two found themselves sitting around in the living room, with hockey displayed on the tv. They decided to catch up on each other's lives. 

"My cousin's been trying to get me into this streaming job," Matthew sighed, "why does he think that I have the guts to live-stream something in front of people?"

"Maybe he wants you to get a side income," (Y/n) suggested and sipped her drink, "You know, the housing prices are getting higher every year."

"Yeah but being an environmental specialist is enough for me right now," Matthew mumbled, "If anything, the PR team for my organization should be the one that's streaming. I'm the guy that handles the data and research." The Canadian rubbed his temples as he looked at the tv. 

"Has... work been stressing you out, Mattie?" (Y/n) asked.

"Not at all. It's him that's I'm mostly worried about. He spends his life without a care about the future. He's doing well now, but I hope he can make use of his economic major in the future. I don't see him doing livestreams in his 50s." Matthew laughed a bit as he shook his head.

"So you do care about him," (Y/n) snickered. 

"Of course I do. He's my cousin after all. I've never had a brother before but that man is the closest one I'm gonna get." The Canadian and his neighbor shared a laugh together. 

When their alarm set off, they made their way back to the kitchen and continued cooking. The duo made themselves busy for the entire day.

They finished cooking around midnight. The fruits of their labor were displayed in front of them. Matthew had cooked dinner amidst the baking so they had something to eat. The two rested in the kitchen. (Y/n) stretched her arms, a yawn leaving her mouth. 

"Sorry I kept you all day," Matthew mumbled, "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, Matthew," (Y/n) smiled, "Besides, at least I got to do something productive. And I got to hang out with one of my favorite neighbors."

"Might as well be the only neighbor you know since I'm the only one who's around your age. Everyone around here is...old." Matthew pushed his glasses up as he walked to the cupboard. He placed the recently washed pots and pans up on the shelves. 

(Y/n) remarked, "Hey, You know Mrs. Pattinson can be as young as both of us. She's got the personality and she's still nimble for someone who's 70 years old."

"Is she really that old?"

"Yup."

"She looks younger than that, to be honest." 

"So she can definitely pass as a woman in her early twenties." 

They shared another laugh.

After Matthew was done putting the cooking equipment away, he escorted his friend to her house. He does trust her with walking by herself, but since it was so late at night, he had to be cautious. It would kill him if something happened to her. 

(Y/n) opened the doors to her home and turned around to look at Matthew. Their eyes connect. 

"Thank you for walking me back home, Mattie," the young woman said, "I hope the pastries we baked are up to your boss' expectations."

"I hope so too," Matthew replied. 

"Good night," the two murmured to each other. (Y/n) bid that Matthew return to his home safe, even if it was such a short walk. Matthew told her to sleep well in return. The two friends were separated for the day, both not knowing when they'll see each other again.

Hopefully soon. Maybe next week when they had the time.

The day passes again, and (Y/n) found herself snuggled against her pillow. It was gloomy outside. Perfect weather to do nothing. She snuggled closer to her pillow. Her eyes stare at the wall in front of her. Her mind was buzzing and she had a lot of things to think about. 

The crows outside started squawking. There weren't that many songbirds out during the winter. Most of the time her visitors were crows. They hang around on the bare tree, talking amongst themselves. Their chirps enabled her unorganized mind.

Although she wished to think of something else, her brain still chose to think about Jones. The soldier she had come to form an attachment to. The one she wanted to keep a secret. Her grip on her pillow tightened and her lips pursed into a frown.

She had to open another letter today. 

The letter she opened yesterday was optimistic, which was way better than the line of letters she had during the weekday. She hoped that the next letter she opens today would have the same optimism. Her heart aches whenever she knows he's hurting. 

She couldn't comfort him. She couldn't provide him with any letters. She wasn't alive when he was.

(Y/n) crawled closer to the edge that had the box underneath. She pulled out the mahogany container and opened it. She grabbed the beige-colored envelope and sat up.

"Jones..." (Y/n) whispered to herself. Her (e/c) eyes stared at the letter in her hands. She had a bad feeling about this one. Something was telling her that she might have jinxed herself. She didn't budge for a bit. She didn't want to open it, fearing that the image of the happy soldier would be robbed from her.

After a few minutes of staring at the envelope at hand, she tore open the side and pulled it out. 

She had to know what was inside.

"Good morning Jo-"

She cut herself off when she noticed something off. The scribbles on the paper were new. She shuffled through the sheets of paper and found the writing to be messy. There were some words that were darker than others. The darker ones were neater.

It seemed to be written in a hurry...or it was written during a mental breakdown. There were tear stains on the aged paper.

He lost his composure. 

With a heavy heart, she stared at the words. She did her best to decipher as much as possible. 

"Good morning Jones," she completed her greeting.

Sweetheart, I know I've promised in the past to not talk about negative things, but the pain I feel is unbearable. Please let me have a chance to say this. Let me confide in you. Please be the angel I can turn to right now. It's all I ask. Give me peace for just a moment. I've been a fool. I know I always had been, but the sin of today is far greater than the ones I've had in the past. I don't know if I've ever told you but I have a habit of scribbling maps during my nighttime duties. It helps out the team...it helps out everyone. Everyone knows me by it. The hobby is my pride and joy. Today I was assigned to scout an area with a few soldiers and my lieutenant. The lieutenant depended on me for the way, since everyone in my unit knows about my habit. I had forgotten the map I had scribbled. I was supposed to bring it with me, but I misplaced it and I couldn't find it. I don't know what made me say that I had it. I think it was my pride. I couldn't swallow it. I told them I had it, thinking that I could be useful again. Gain more praise, all that stuff.  Lying was more than a silly mistake. Most of us came back wounded, some dead. Small casualty but it could have been avoided. The lieutenant had to change plans to better fit out resources. Taught him a lesson to not entirely depend on each other, even if it's all we've got. Most of us were angry throughout the entire operation. I couldn't see or think straight. I think my guilt mixed with anger for myself. All I could feel was adrenaline. I confess most of the soldiers I had shot didn't seem to have faced for me. Except for one. Some german guy. Already had been shot in the leg and still tried to crawl away. I remember him crying.  He pleaded for his life. Knew just a bit of English, but alternated to German for some words. I couldn't understand him, but that look in his eyes. I knew it all too well.  Maybe something broke in me. I don't know. I already felt like shit and that bastard made me feel worse. I couldn't bear the thought of having to shoot him, but I pulled the trigger anyway.  I took a lot of lives today. Usually, I took pride in that, but it also cost the lives of my friends. I've never really blamed myself this much until now. The realization hits you like a punch or a slap. It's the job, I know, but I started thinking about every other guy I killed in the past. It's all I could think about when I arrived back. Hey, you still think I'm a hero right? A hero's got to make sacrifices, right? I admit I'm a fool, but I'm not heartless...or at least I don't want to think of myself as heartless. To every guy I had killed, I probably was. I know I'll never get an answer from you, but I just hope you still see me in good light. You, ma, and pa are all I've got. I don't want to lose you because of what I did. I confess to you, and I hope you could forgive me. You're my darling angel...my stars. An angel like you can forgive my sins, right? I apologize for making you listen to me, but I'm still thankful that you took the time to hear me out. I had no one else to turn to. I only trust you with all these things. I know you have the heart to not judge me so harshly. I promise I'll try to take care of myself.  Blessings be on your way. I'll try to write something else next time. Sincerely, your beloved, A. F. J.

(Y/n)'s eyebrows rose as she stared at the letter in her hand. Nervous butterflies flew in her stomach as she looked at her drawer. There was a small map in yesterday's letter. It must have been the map he was looking for. He managed to send it home. It was unfortunate for the soldier. 

She had trouble finding words to say to him. She grieved alongside him.

The young woman placed a kiss against the top of the paper. Her lips lingered as she closed her eyes. She let out a deep breath as her mind churned. The situation could have been avoidable if he had just checked the letter before this one. He didn't have to lose so much. 

Her stomach bubbled with more emotion. She was frustrated with him yet pitied him too. She couldn't take his side for this letter...even if he did confess for what he's done.

He shouldn't have lied to everyone for the sake of his pride. He could have been honest and it might have saved their lives. 

She agreed with him. He was a fool.

No one could be a hero without sacrificing their pride.

She didn't openly blame him, however. She still wanted to support him, even if she disagreed with his choices. She entertained his pleas to still be seen as a hero. She felt horrible putting him down, especially since he saw her as an angel. 

Wait.

(Y/n) froze in place as her mind lingered on the thought. 

He...he never explicitly referred to her, and yet she still views herself as his angel.

His stars.

His baby.

She's taken so many roles for him, even if he doesn't know of her existence. All he knew was his beloved...and she was never his beloved in the first place.

Yet, (Y/n) took her place, deeming that the woman in the past never deserved him.

Even if he's living in another century, she wanted to be there for him. Maybe his spirit could rest knowing that there was someone out there remembering him. Loving him just as he deserved to be loved.

The acceptance clouded her acceptance of it. Her mind pursued to keep that perspective, throwing away every bit of logic that plagued her mind. It brought the beginning and the end.

"I'm sorry about all of this, Jones. I'll be here for you," was all she could muster. She couldn't provide what he asked for. 

Forgiveness.

"It will come to pass soon. You'll be out of there, I can assure you. May you be blessed with peace of mind." she murmured. She placed the letter down on her lap and tucked it away.

"May they all find peace."

She let out a sigh as she blankly stared at the wall. Her mind started thinking about things again. 

Nothing good was coming out of the letters. There was that one letter of optimism, but that was only a fragment of his old self.

This newer version of Jones was beginning to crack, and this letter was the catalyst.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 07: " invasion of privacy " ✎▫✧⭒…

Over the course of living in the home for six months, falling in love with someone she hasn't seen before was definitely something (Y/n) didn't see coming. To her, it was equivalent to e-dating, but with actual e-dating, the two parties were communicating in real-time. In the young woman's case, the two parties were centuries apart.

There was no one to actually talk to. Whenever she responded to Jones' questions, no one actually hears it. The walls do, but the walls aren't alive. She had been talking to herself and she had picked up that habit as she lived in her house. 

Another morning dawned on the horizon. When the early hour of 10 arrived, an alarm was heard. The phone sang its song, but it was rather an annoyance to the sleeping young lady. Soft groans left (Y/n)'s mouth as she reached for her phone. It had been on the other side of her bed, underneath a pillow. Pulling it out, she taps the screen to stop the noise.

Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open and her lips arched into a frown. (Y/n) pushed herself up to a sitting position and gently rubs her eyes. She had work today, unfortunately. Stumbling out of her bed, she led herself to the bathroom to start her daily routine. She arrived back in her room afterward, her hands immediately reaching for a letter underneath her bed. 

She sat on the bed and delicately opened the envelope. 

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) spoke, "I hope you had a good day while writing this letter."

Good morning sweetheart, How was your morning? Have you been eating well? Surely the food back at home is giving you enough nutrients to get you through the day. Hope the meals are good too. I think I've had an okay morning so far! The food's starting to taste bland now and it's giving me a hard time. I used to think it was okay a few months ago, but I'm back to a point where I'm starting to hate it. I suppose I can deal with it. It's the only thing that's good coming from this war. How are your friends back at home? Have they been treating you well? I hope they are. In recent days, I haven't been agreeing with my friends. I've already told them that I wanted to keep our relationship secret, but they keep asking about it. I know they're concerned about me and I appreciate it, I find it intrusive and they're kind of prying into my business. In fact, I had an argument with Charles the other day. I caught him looking through my things when I came back from the night shift. He probably thought I didn't come back until later. He was messing with the box where I usually keep my letters. I usually put all of them there before I send them out whenever I was free, or whenever the government was ready to send letters. He was reading some of them. He asked me about them and they were very personal.  I had an argument about it with him, which was a first. I don't normally argue with my friends. If we were to, most of our arguments would have usually been pretty light. This one was serious. Charles said I was doing so much for a bitch that never writes to me back. They don't know you like I do. They don't understand. It's hard for them to. I know you're doing your best back at home and you must be very busy, which is why you never send me letters! I must be right about that babe! So, I took offense in him calling you a bitch. He called you useless and said that you weren't worth my time. I got so fucking mad that I socked him straight in the gut. How could he call you like that? It's unbelievable! This is why I wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I knew they were going to cause a racket. Now Charles sees me as some sort of idiot or a lunatic for sending you letters. I know James and Alex are in it too, they just never like confronting me about it. They have a hidden agenda, and I can tell you they've had it for a while, I just know it. I don't know what it is, though. I don't want to know. I'm too busy worrying about fighting this damn country. I care about you. I care about us. My duty is just as important though, sweetheart, so I hope you can understand why I don't want to press further. I told them off, saying that they don't have the right to look through my things. It'll take a while for me to forgive them. Don't worry sweetheart, I'll be ok! I'm just a bit of a downer right now since Charles did that. Sorry that the letter seems a bit more emotional than the last few letters I sent back at home, but I just needed an outlet to release my feelings. I hope you understand babe. You're always in my thoughts and I would do anything to protect your name. I'll write to you whenever I can. Sincerely your amazing future husband, A. F. J

Seeing the word sweetheart wasn't anything new for her. The switch from "babe" to "sweetheart" happened a few days ago, actually. Jones said that he wanted his letters to be more romantic, so instead of using babe, he switched to sweetheart. Occasionally though he would slip up and still manage to call her babe. She didn't mind it.

But there was another thing that came up in the recent letters.

Jones was right about his letters being more emotional than usual. A week or two ago, (Y/n) had noticed a pattern in his writing. The eager soldier was still there like he promised, but his writings feel disorganized. He was paranoid about his friends, his relationship. It was highly likely that the soldier's façade was starting to crack.

Jones contradicts himself sometimes. His mind is getting strained. It's obvious that he's having a hard time picking out what's actually going on and what is a figment of his imagination.

Although his paranoia was justifiable, he didn't have evidence to suspect James and Alex. If anything, Charles was the one that was straining their relationship. 

The way the mystery soldier wanted to keep his relationship with his sweetheart made the young woman think. As much as she wanted to side with Jones, Charles did have a point. The man talked about how Jones' girlfriend didn't deserve to have him.

The young soldier was sweet, caring, and a bit overprotective of his girlfriend. He was only overprotective of her because he thought that he would lose her. It was clear that Jones always tried to mask his emotions within his letters. His feelings would sometimes overspill on his letters, and most of the letters became a rambling mess. The letters to his girlfriend were clearly a way for him to vent whatever he felt. He still worried about her too, even when he had so many problems on his back.

His girlfriend never deserved him, especially since she wasn't going to give him the attention he deserved.

A frown found itself on (Y/n)'s face as she sighed. Gently she brought the letter to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss. This was a newly acquired habit. It formed ever since she accepted her love for the soldier. 

"I'm sorry Jones," the (h/c) haired woman mumbled, "Surely Charles had good intentions." She knew she did, but if for whatever reason Jones' spirit was roaming around her home, she made it seem like she was siding with him. 

Delicately she placed the letter back in its envelope and placed it in the drawer. The first drawer had been filled with letters, so she had assigned a new letter container. Fortunately, it was the one underneath the first compartment. This made it easier for her to remember which were opened in the first six months and the new ones. 

(Y/n) grabbed her bag, keys, and made her way downstairs where she prepared her lunch. She had a few leftovers from last night's dinner. She didn't want to throw it out so she just packed it for today. She put in a few snacks that came from Matthew and Felicia. She had grown to love them. Felicia's sister, Oriana, always knew how to make good tiramisu, so it was always a pleasure to pack them for lunch. 

As for Matthew's snacks, he had a few French pastries. He said that his father always had a thing for cooking and it sort of carried over. Whenever possible, the Canadian would always make his way to her house just to share his snacks. The feelings were mutual, actually, as (Y/n) would share whatever she can. 

The young woman left her home with everything she needed. She eventually made her way to work and stayed there until she was called for lunch.

Who else would call out to her but Felicia?

The Italian had already approached her and hugged her. The curious curl at the side of her head bounced as she squeezed (Y/n).

"I haven't seen you in a while, (Y/n)!" Felicia whined, "How are you?"

"You know that I'm always going to say that I'm ok," (Y/n) laughed, "Felicia we literally saw each other yesterday." Lightly she pats the brunette's arm, causing her to pull away.

"Yeah but that was yesterday though," the Italian woman responded.

She grabbed (Y/n)'s hand and gently pulled it. It was a silent request that the young woman knew too well. (Y/n) nodded and smiled at her friend. Immediately after that, she was pulled into the break room, with Felicia occasionally waving to her other coworkers.

No one could separate the two ever since Felicia has developed a weird habit of gravitating towards her. (Y/n) doesn't know why she was so eager to see her all the time. Hell, she didn't even know how she managed to attract Felicia. Her company was appreciated though and she loved being near the cheerful woman. 

The two found themselves drifting to their usual spot, with the Italian in a hurry to eat. She placed her container of seafood pasta and immediately started digging in. (Y/n) watched her friend as she gobbled the food, her eyes widening. No matter how many times she's seen Felicia eat, she will always be surprised by how she manages to slurp up her pasta. 

"Careful, you might choke. Wouldn't want you coming back to your girlfriend dead," (Y/n) joked as she pulled out her own lunch. 

"Yeah but-" Felicia replied between bites, "this food is so good though...Claire made it for me." 

"You say that to everything Claire makes," the (h/c)-haired woman rolled her eyes. 

The young women shared laughs as they dined together. (Y/n) was there to make sure that Felicia comes home breathing and Felicia was there to keep (Y/n) company. They enjoyed being together, but sometimes Felicia's questions could be a little personal.

"Soooo...have you got someone in mind?" Felicia asked, munching on her chocolate, "I mean, you're so young, bella, surely you've gotten someone's attention!"

"Why are we talking about this in the lunchroom," (Y/n) sighed.

"Because I haven't asked you in a while! The last time I said it was a few months ago. A lot can happen in a few months you know? And! I haven't really caught up with you! I keep talking and blabbing about myself but I rarely get to hear about your side of the world." The young Italian woman frowned. Her bright auburn eyes stared down at her friend, studying her facial features.

It seemed fair for (Y/n) to talk about some of her life. She didn't like the fact that she's been keeping stuff from her friend. Although...she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about Jones. If word got out that she had fallen in love with a dead soldier, it would be the end of her.

"I haven't really got anyone in mind," (Y/n) lied, "I just haven't really met anyone interesting."

"I know what I can do!" Felicia grinned, "What if I hook you up with my cousin, Flavio? He's real nice, that is, if you get past all that glitz and glamor he's always talking about."

(Y/n) arched a brow. "Flavio?" She's heard about him, but she doesn't know that much. "No, I'm okay Felicia." She smiled at the Italian.

"Doesn't it feel horrible feeling lonely though? I could really talk to him for you." The brunette tilted her head to the side. 

"No, really, I'm okay!" (Y/n) waved her hands, trying to dismiss her friend's idea. "I don't think I'm ready for anything like that anyway."

Lies left her mouth. Ever since she started liking Jones, all she felt was the desire to be loved. (Y/n) knew that she was ready for love. She was just asking for it from the wrong guy. She can't help it. She can't just toss away her love for Jones for another man. It'll take a while for her to throw away the little crush she has on Jones. 

Felicia didn't want to press further as she didn't want to make her friend uncomfortable. (Y/n) shifted the conversation away from her love life and focused more on Felicia and Claire's relationship. The Italian rambled on and on about her girlfriend. She boasts about her all the time and praises her cooking. Their conversation lasted long enough to end their lunch. 

The women were rallied over by their boss to get back to work. (Y/n) stayed in her area for the remainder of the workday. When it was time to leave, she bid her goodbye to Felicia before going home. She pulled up on her driveway and sighed.

She was home again. 

For the rest of the evening, (Y/n) spent by herself. She ate dinner, did her chores, and eventually drifted to her bedroom. There she laid on her bed staring at her blank ceiling. Many thoughts surfaced and bounced around the walls. Most of them were concerned about the conversation with Felicia. 

She had done the right thing, right? If she had told Felicia about Jones, it would be nonstop for her. She would ask so many questions that (Y/n) has no truthful answers for. She hated lying to her friends, so to lie to Felicia stressed her out. It was for the better. 

Just like Jones, she had to hide her feelings for him. She wasn't in a relationship with the soldier, since she knew that they weren't actually together. 

That didn't stop her from thinking she was his sweetheart though.

She eventually drifted off to sleep to pass the night. When morning came, the weekend arrived with it. The young woman slept until she woke up around noon. Birds chirped outside her window and the sun's glaring rays passed through her blinds. Some were hitting her face, causing her to turn away. 

The young woman had been on her phone for a while. The bed was too warm for her to leave. She could already tell that it was a bit chilly in her room. Nothing would move her except for her empty stomach. (Y/n) slid off the blanket and stood up. 

She was right. It was cold in her room. 

As much as she regretted standing up, she needed to eat. 

(Y/n) mumbled to herself as she walked off, starting the low effort parts of her routine. She came back to her bedroom and grabbed the box. A small smile appeared on her face as she looked at the different letters. There are a lot more she had to go through. She was halfway there though. Just six more months of seeing Jones.

She wonders how it'll all turn out. 

Delicately did she rip the envelope's edge and grabbed the pieces of paper inside. (Y/n) hummed softly as she put its outer shell on her bed. 

"Good morning soldier," (Y/n) smiled, "What will you say today."

Good morning sweetheart, How have you been? I hope you're doing okay back at home. I'm kind of doing okay over here. I sprained my ankle pretty bad so I'm out of commission for a few days. I have to stay with the medics until I make a recovery and then it's back to the action. You might be asking how I got the sprain and I can assure you it's nothing serious. I just tripped and Alex and James helped me up. I appreciate that they've helped me, but, I have a hard time knowing if they did it with good intentions. They've been talking to Charles, you know. They talk to him more than me. I can't trust him. Not after what Charles did the other day. I know they're my friends, but I can't let my guard down around them anymore. Charles went ahead of them. I guess he still has a grudge against me. I don't even know what went wrong between all three of us. I'm thinking it was the fight. Anyway, it doesn't really matter with Charles. At least my legs haven't been blown off right? Unlike some of the soldiers here. They weren't as fortunate as me yesterday. Some of them get to go home after they've been shot and others couldn't walk anymore. Some of them didn't make it. I know some of the people that went home alive and dead. They were part of my unit. I know I'm not a commanding officer but I felt like I should have helped them. I kind of feel envious of them, for some reason. Maybe it's remorse? I don't know. The medics tell me that I shouldn't worry about it. I'll try not to, of course. I'll keep my chin up since I've got a job to do. I have to ensure victory for you and my country.  I know you might be worried about me right now, but trust me babe I'll be okay. If it makes you feel any better, I'm writing this letter with a smile on my face. I'll be resting for a while. Stay healthy and safe back at home. I'll send letters home whenever I can. From, your future husband, A. F. J

The paranoia was still there and she doesn't think it'll die down any time soon. The comment about the other soldiers worried her as much too. She felt her stomach twist as she read that part again. It was obvious that the decline was happening. She was wondering if it's always been like this since day one.

Was the optimism a ruse?

She doesn't have solid evidence right now. Most of the letters she's opened in the past showed his optimism. He was even somewhat optimistic to be shooting enemies down, thinking that it'll make him a hero of some sort. He viewed himself as saving people from the enemies. He was doing something for his country, it was enough to fill a patriotic man with joy. 

The woman can't assume anything right now. 

(Y/n)'s lips arched to a frown as she placed the letter down. 

"God I hope you're okay Jones," (Y/n) mumbled. She can't guarantee that he would be. She was placing a prayer for a man that wasn't alive.

"Your friends care about you. James and Alex had good intentions...I can assure you." She just hoped that the letters showed he was safe and back at home with a new significant other. 

His current significant other, the one receiving the letters, didn't deserve him at all. 

(Y/n) placed the letter in the drawer and hopped off of the bed. As much as her mind was bothered by Jones' current state of health, she still had something to do. It was going to be a lazy day today, but she had no more groceries.

She continued on to the rest of her day with thoughts of the soldier in her mind. 

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 06: " Limited Edition " ✎▫✧⭒…

The days have gotten colder ever since winter arrived last month. The sun barely has an effect on the Earth when it's so far away. The winter season was a favorite of (Y/n)'s, but only because she could snuggle with her blanket and pillows. However, there were drawbacks to living through a cold winter.

Sicknesses were common. (Y/n) is one of the people who's more vulnerable to the cold. With a cold home in such a cold area, it would be easy for her to get sick. 

The woman woke up one day, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. Her big blanket wraps around her form, engulfing her in a much-needed warm embrace. The sun was glaring at her face through her blinds. She moved her body away and reached for her phone. Her face shows off a smile as she looked at the date. It was a weekend and she didn't have work today. That brought her joy. 

(Y/n) looked through the many notifications that appeared on her opening screen. Most of them were texts from her friends' group chat and others came from apps she had on her phone. She had some important emails here and there. Some from her boss and others were reminders to pay off her car and her house.

It was the fifth month of living in this old house and the woman still felt like she needed to get used to it. She wasn't a big believer in the paranormal but her house has been creaking and croaking. A few cold spots appear and disappear at the same time. Sure, ghosts might make those, but that could also just be the house's thing.

It was an old thing. Maybe it's naturally just cold. 

The wooden floors downstairs have been very loud and sometimes the walls felt like something was skittering inside. (Y/n) remembers calling her realtor about the noises, only to have him say that they were just critters. 

She was advised to call exterminators to check on the property, but doing that costs her a lot of money. Right now, the woman was very tight on money. She wanted to be fully independent of her family so by the first month she stopped asking her mom and her dad about money. She never knew how much she needed them until the middle of the second month when all the bills came in. 

Her job was enough to support her, but it's hard to save up for anything.

A sigh leaves her mouth as she sat up. She felt an immediate rush of cold air hit her skin, causing her to shiver. There was the house's natural cold again. A frown replaced the smile on her face. There was a thought in her mind that told her to go back to bed, but she couldn't do that. She had a lot of things to do today, from raking up the leftover leaves to calling her dad. She could probably finish all of her tasks in time for lunch if she worked hard. 

Slipping in her slippers, (Y/n) rushes to the bathroom to get ready. She showered, changed clothes, and did her face. Just a daily moisturizer and toner were needed for today. The next part came naturally for her. She walked out and headed straight for the bed again. She pulled out the box underneath and plucked out the letters.

The woman gently ripped open the envelope and plucked the letter inside. Although the letters were normal for (Y/n), there was a slight surprise. Tucked inside the worn paper was a baseball card. Her (e/c) eyes widened as she stared at the small collectible. It was a picture of a Boston Red Sox player named Ted Williams. The card was dated 1939. 

"This is a collector's item isn't it?" (Y/n) asked herself. She looked at the back of the card, finding a signature on it. That was more of a surprise than the baseball card itself. The thing looked to be signed by the actual player. It was more than a collectible now. It's rare and it's in mint condition, which seemed impossible. 

Gently placing the baseball card down on the counter, (Y/n)'s eyes scanned the letter. A warm smile appeared on her face as she read his greeting.

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) smiled. The words drifted off in the air, only entering her ears.

Good morning babe!

I hope your morning is going well. I think my morning's okay. The rationed food is definitely getting better each day. I'm genuinely starting to look forward to every meal now. It's definitely an improvement from whatever the hell we had at the start of my deployment. I'm starting to like lugging around cans and boxes of food with me while I'm out there. I hope you've eaten already! If you haven't, please consider eating something. 

I know you're not a soldier, but it's good to eat something too. Charles told me the other day that his sweetheart has been struggling with food recently. Says it just wasn't the same eating by herself. Hey, if you're feeling like that, I'm sorry! I know it's rough, but hey, just think I'm there, in spirit of course. I'll be eating right beside you, even if I'm all the way here in Europe and you're back in America.

Now, I know what you're thinking! You're thinking "Why is there a Ted Williams baseball card in my letter?", aren't you? Babe! It's a limited edition Ted Williams 1939 card! I also got it signed by the man himself! Isn't that great?

You might be asking why I sent it, and that's because, well...if I can't send you the peanut butter and jelly crackers, I might as well send you something that I cherish the most. This Ted Williams card is my lucky charm, babe, so I really do hope that you take care of it well. 

I'm kind of hoping that it'll give you good luck too! Maybe even some prosperity in the future. You might say that I need it more since I'm fighting, but honestly, I think I'm lucky enough. I get by every day with a prayer and I come back to base every night with little to no scratches. That baseball card has blessed me too much, so I want to share its blessings.

I dunno what you would do with it, but please don't sell it off to some kid. I know money is tight right now, and you're definitely an angel from Earth, but hold off on your kindness and don't sell it to a crying kid okay? It would really suck.

Of course, you might think it's kind of childish to cherish a baseball card, but you already know me and baseball. I love that sport to death! I love this card wholeheartedly, but hey, don't go thinking I love this card more than you. Call me cheesy, but there's only one of you and a hundred signed Ted William cards out there. You are definitely more limited edition than the card.

I hope you are well over there, babe. Stay healthy and stay strong always! I'll always have you in my thoughts and I hope you have me in yours too!

Sincerely, your amazing awesome heroic boyfriend

A. F. J.

There were things that she's noticed from the last few letters. He's getting better with his one-liners. She remembers when he had blurred out his baseball pick-up line. It was almost obvious that he hasn't actually used them before. For a man who seems to have gotten into a quick relationship with someone, it was strange that he doesn't know how to use pick-up lines.

Maybe he had managed to woo his girlfriend without them. He had the charm and probably had the looks too. Whoever the girlfriend was, she was lucky to have someone as sweet as him. He poured out his love to her in her letters, so there had been no use for pickup lines. Just talking to him was enough to make anyone swoon for her. 

(Y/n) would have been lying if she said that she wasn't one of them. 

Either way, she giggled at the times he's managed to sneak in one-liners in his letters. They were appreciated and it made the woman feel warm inside. It wasn't out of the ordinary. It had been like that ever since the third month. (Y/n) was aware of her feelings, but was still in denial of them.

The smile was stuck on (Y/n)'s face as she placed the letter back in the envelope. She gently picked up the baseball card that was on the counter. She scanned it again, picking up the faded paint and the smiling face of the now-deceased baseball player. 

"Thank you, Jones, I'll make sure this card is in a safe pace." The woman placed it back down on the table and grabbed her phone. She had to make sure that thing is perfectly preserved. She knew that card collectors usually use a plastic sleeve to cover their cards, but considering that this card isn't like new pokemon cards, she might have to use more.

Maybe a special case? Once she's paid her bills and raked enough money, she might invest in a case. She would have to order it online though. She doesn't want to go into stores trying to find a case for a single baseball card. Besides, she wasn't a big collector of baseball cards. Just a small square box would be enough for this Ted Williams card. 

For now, it would have to sit in the letter it came from. (Y/n) had to make a note for it, as she tends to forget things. She hopped off of her bed. She went to her closet to grab a coat so she could bundle up before doing her yard work. She made sure to grab the keys before exiting her home. 

The rest of the morning was spent outside. (Y/n) was hard at work with a smile bright on her face. Reading those letters from Jones definitely made her feel better, like always. As she raked the remaining remnants of fall in her front yard, she thought about the soldier again. The man's letters had some time between them. Some letters felt like they were weeks ahead of the other. She wondered last letter's date tells her if he survived or not. 

It would be impossible to tell, though. The dates were written on the letter itself. They can't be seen through the envelope. 

Her desires made it almost impossible to stop her urge to rip open the last letter. She would have spoiled it for herself if she had done that. That feeling of not knowing his fate was killing her.

The rake (Y/n) held in her hands started to scrape the ground, making mounds of earth. Her grip around the wooden handle tightened as she huffed. She took in a deep breath as a way of calming herself down.

The last thing she wanted was her neighbors looking out their windows and seeing a young woman throwing a tantrum in front of her home.

She fixed her composure and continued to rake until she had placed all the leaves in her compost bin. She used her feet to fix the mounds of dirt that rose up, tidying them up so that they were flat on the floor. 

A loud honk caused her head to lift up. Off to the road was a familiar person, whose car is already out of his driveway. Her lips curled up into a smile as she approached the driver. (E/c) eyes connect with a gentle lilac gaze. 

"Where you off to, Matthew?" (Y/n) asked.

"My cousin's home," the blonde replied, "He's been bugging me about something. Says he's got something to show me, even if he could have just called me. I think he just wants to hang out."

"Be safe alright?" the young woman hummed, "and have fun wherever you're going."

"With his loud, annoying self, I don't know if I will," Matthew joked around, "I'll see you around, (Y/n)."

The pair shared a smile before (Y/n) walked back to her yard. The blonde male honked his horn again, spared a small, soft smile, and drove off.

(Y/n) used the side gate to enter her backyard. She tucked her rake in the shed that came with the house and made her way inside. She tossed her gloves on the kitchen counter and pulled out her phone. It was already noon. Perhaps her father was available. He usually has nothing to do for the weekends. Well, that is, if he wasn't busy with his wife.

The young woman made her way to the living room and sat down on the couch. She turned on her tv to a stream. She only wanted to have some background noise so it didn't feel like she was alone in the house. Of the five months living here, she just couldn't get used to the silence. Sure, it was comforting, but sometimes it was eerie.

Quickly she dialed her father's number and let the phone ring until someone picked up.

"Dad," (Y/n) spoke, "Good afternoon."

"Hey kiddo," her father replied, "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask if you found something," she asked. Her hands grabbed a pillow and hugged it. 

"I couldn't really find anything," he spoke, "I've looked through everything, and not once did your grandpa mention someone named Jones. Even your grandma said he didn't know anyone by the name of Jones. She was positive about it too, considering how talkative that old man was. I would have called you sooner, but, I've got nothing for you, kid." 

(Y/n) pushed her hair back as she nodded. A sigh came from her mouth. Although disappointment nestled in her heart, she smiled.

"Look, kid...I know how much you want to find out about this mystery soldier of yours. You could do it yourself you know. You have his letters. Maybe try looking through all of his letters." 

"I don't want to," the woman mumbled, "I don't want to open the rest of them. It doesn't feel right and I have this weird... bad feeling about them."

"Well, whatever you wanna do. If you ever need help again, just call me okay?" The old man hummed.

"I will." (Y/n) spoke a soft goodbye to her father before picking up. 

There were no leads at all in her search for whoever the hell this soldier was. Her father was right, though. If she was so keen on finding out who he was, she should have just opened all of the letters. There was a part of her that wanted to open all of it, but there was another that said that it would completely kill the suspense. 

The two sides were at war at the moment and all the woman did was sit on her couch. Her eyes stare at the ceiling. Her lips were pursed into a frown. Ultimately, the side that wished to progress slower had won.

Her heart fluttered as she continued to stare above. Her thoughts drifted and wandered around. Thoughts about the mysterious soldier invaded her mind. Every time she recounted his words, her heartfelt warmth.

The poems he had written about were still in her head. He may not be his girlfriend but just the thought of him calling her beautiful was enough to make her swoon. 

The smile appeared on her face again as she thought about the mysterious soldier.

The woman continued her day just like any other. She took a break from work and contacted her mother and her new partner. Although she wasn't close to her, she still loved her. She just needs to get used to her new partner though. They were nice to her, yeah, but it'll take a while. 

After talking to her mom, (Y/n) went on to call friends and talk to them. Eventually, her social meter was depleted and she spent the rest of the evening by herself. She ate dinner, cleaned herself up, and got ready for bed. She snuggled up to her pillow and fell asleep.

(Y/n) stirred around in her sleep. Her eyes sprang open once the day arrived. She did not move an inch from her current position as she tried to remember what happened in her mind.

She had a dream.

Sure, she dreams sometimes at night, but this time it was different. In last night's dream, she envisioned herself with a man. That man had his face covered by a black haze one can easily pick out his smile. He wore a dark green uniform, brown boots, and glasses. It was clear that he was taller than her. He had no voice, but, he was able to speak to her. It was like the dream had its own subtitles. 

When asked his identity, he mumbled Jones.

His identity is why (Y/n) was so keen on remembering the dream. 

The young woman danced with him underneath the pale moonlight. Their fingers were intertwined and Jones had his hands on her waist. They were so close to each other that they filled the spaces between their chests. When the camera panned out to film the couple's face, pure adoration and love were seen. 

(Y/n) stayed in her bed and her lips unknowingly curled into a smile. She had been dancing with Jones in her dream. The look on her face showed how much she loved the man she barely knew. The grip she had on her blankets tightened as she sighed. 

"No...I can't-" (Y/n) said to herself. "I can't fall for someone who's already dead." She tried to clear her mind by getting up and starting her morning routine. She walks to the bathroom and stares at herself in the mirror.

"Get it together," the woman told herself. Her mind and heart refused. They dwelled on the thought of waltzing with the soldier under the night sky. She could only bring her head down in defeat. As much as she hated to admit it, her fondness of Jones grew up to the point where she developed a crush.

From the span of five months, she's completely lost herself to a man she's never seen before.

(Y/n) pushed her hair back as she washed her face. A smile appeared again as she thought about the soldier. She was eager to read another letter this morning.

She wanted to hear from him again.

Exiting the bathroom, she headed straight for the bed. She pulled out the box of letters and grabbed one. Gently, she tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. She made sure that nothing else fell out of it. She wouldn't want to damage whatever Jones had in there for her.

For her. These weren't really for her. She wanted it to be.

"Good morning Jones," she whispered.

Good morning babe! 

Have your days been getting better? Have you been eating well? You know without you sending anything at all, I get kinda worried that things are bad back at home. I don't even know if the letters are getting to your address. I hope they're reaching home though! I hope you get to read them. I genuinely hope that you've gotten something to eat this morning. Hopefully a good meal too!

I'm sorry I haven't been writing in a while. I know it's been a few days since I've last sent you the letter. We're currently trying to attack a few European bases, so it's getting a bit hectic around here. Soldier morale is declining. Mine is too, but, I'm trying to push through. I'm trying to be happy with you, ma, and pa in my thoughts. 

Don't worry about me. I will always try to show you the enthusiasm you've grown to love. If I manage to slip up in one of my letters, I'm sorry. 

I was recently put on post while Charles, Alex, and James stayed put back at base. Sure, I'm with a few other guys but I can't really relax. Everyone is basically on edge. I barely got any sleep last night. I'm only writing this right now because I've been given a break this morning. Don't worry! I'm sure I can keep myself safe here since I've got a buddy with me. 

It's a Brit, actually. Goes by the name of Kirkland. He's kind of mean, serious, but whenever he wants to have a laugh, he has one. I get along with him. Sort of. It's hard to strike up a conversation with him when he always turns me down. I guess I don't mind. We should all be serious at this job you know? Can't have our guard down, especially when we don't know when enemy forces are going to strike. 

Kirkland's been helping me with my sharpshooter skills. Kirkland's a really good sniper! He's given me tips and tricks on how to aim better, how to reload my rifle properly. He tells me when to peak out and when to hide. With the help of the rifle, I'm actually able to hit the targets! My hands aren't as shaky anymore.

Honestly, I'm beginning to love this rifle that they've given me. I used to dislike the M1 Garand since it's mostly used for longer range. I myself prefer to be just a bit closer and I like operating the machine guns more. I'm getting better with the rifle though! I think I'll use it more often now.

You know, speaking of the M1 Garand, I've actually got pinched by it before. It hurts like hell, especially when you don't know how to use it! I was reloading the chamber when all of a sudden the clamp went back and it trapped my thumb. I'm going to be honest, I almost panicked. It wasn't every day my thumb got stuck while reloading! There were people shooting at my post too, so I thought I would definitely lose. Luckily, Kirkland was there to help me out. He's honestly a pretty cool dude!

I've got to work on my reloading skill for sure. I wouldn't want that happening. If I end up getting stuck in battle, how am I supposed to win? I can't make you and mom and dad proud if I lose. You guys are my main motivators and I genuinely appreciate all the support you've given me. I may not hear from you much, but babe I just know you're supporting me back at home! 

With a pinched thumb or not, I will continue fighting! I hope you're fighting at home too! Continue to stay strong.

Sincerely, your amazing awesome super cool boyfriend,

A. F. J

"You mean...she hasn't been sending you anything at all, Jones?" (Y/n) asked herself. She gripped the letter in her hands. She felt her heart sink at the realization that she was right. The letters were definitely unopened and left alone. How could his girlfriend do that? How heartless was this person to just leave these letters alone?

She can no longer defend the person who received these letters. This person was genuinely neglecting someone that loved them so much that they dedicated a lot of their time writing letters. Jones has been writing for months and his girlfriend never bothered writing him back?!

Why was she so defensive for a man she's never even spoken to? Why was her heart aching and feeling for him? This no longer was pity. Her feelings were past the point of having a small attraction.

There was so much hope in this young man's voice and hearing that his girlfriend never opened his heartfelt letters broke him. It broke her too. The barrier that barred her from accepting her love for him was broken down. It upset her so much that she couldn't help but feel like loving him would bring him comfort.

No. She was only saying that in denial. She knew well that she loves him because she herself has fallen.

He wasn't here. He's only a spirit at this point. He's dead.

She loves a dead man.

"I'm so sorry," was all the young woman could muster. She stared at the letter in silence. "I'm here. I'm reading them for you, Jones." (Y/n) placed a gentle kiss on the paper. A smile formed on her lips.

What a fool she'll become.

"I'll be your baby, Jones."

[tahanann]

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Here is a current list of all the fanfics I've written and posted. They can also be found on AO3, Quotev, or Wattpad.

Hetalia:

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (America) -+ 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 05: "I wish explosions were fireworks" ✎▫✧⭒…

Time has gone by fast during (Y/n)'s stay in her new home. Even if she's gotten a few bad days here and there, days never seem to linger. It didn't even feel like four months have passed by. It was already near the end of December. Winter had already arrived and the young woman can feel the change in weather. She's been wearing warmer clothes now to keep up with the climate. She was aware of how easy it was for her to get sick, and since she's living by herself, there's no one around that'll take care of her. It's better for her to stay safe than sorry during the winter days.

(Y/n) sat around in her living room, her eyes staring at the tv screen in front of her. She'd been here for most of the afternoon. She had been browsing for something to watch, be it an internet show or a youtube video that's been recommended to her. So far, nothing was interesting to her. Most of it looked like boring content anyway or she's already watched them. The young woman didn't want to give up hope though. She was determined to find something to watch, or at least have something be in the background as she browses through her phone.

Minutes pass by as she browsed...and browsed, and eventually ended up with something. It was something she randomly picked. She has been doing this for hours and she can't lose another hour of just searching for another video. (Y/n) gently bit her cheek as she let the video play in the background. She went to pick up her phone and look at her different notifications. Most were invites to a new years party by friends. Her eyes widened when she felt her phone vibrate.

"Felicia?" (Y/n) mumbled to herself. "I thought she was busy." The young woman shrugged her shoulders before picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Ciao! Oh! I'm so glad you picked up, (Y/n)!" Felicia giggled, "I'm sure you've gotten a lot of new years party invites but can you please please please come to mine instead? I know you said that you were going to celebrate New Years yourself this year. Please, me, sorella, and Claire would love to have you over at our place!"

The young woman wasn't sure if she should accept this invitation or not. She did tell herself that she was going to just sleep in for the new years, but seeing as how eager her friend is...it might not be a bad idea to do that. Besides, (Y/n) needed to hang out with Felicia more anyway. The Italian had been super nice to her. It was only right if she did this favor for her.

"Will there be tiramisu at the party?" (Y/n) asked, smiling. She could hear her friend squeal over the phone before speaking in Italian. There had been two extra voices in the background. 

"There will be! I'll make sure Oriana will make them on the 31st!" Felicia hummed, "Wait! Does this mean that you'll go?"

"Of course," (Y/n) replied, "I mean as long as there is tiramisu over."

"Si! Yes! Of course! There will be!" Felicia's eagerness transferred over to (Y/n). They must have the same-sized grin at this point. The two young women talked for a few more moments. Their conversations ranged from how they were feeling to what had happened while they were away from each other. Though, much has not happened since they last saw each other. Felicia was the type of person that would immediately flock to (Y/n) during lunchtime. Like their breaktime chat, Felicia talked (Y/n)'s ear off.

Soon, the young Italian figured it was time for her to leave. She had mentioned that her partner and sister have been telling her to get off the phone so she could eat dinner. Felicia dismissed herself and hung up the call. (Y/n) shook her head and laughed as she put her phone down on her lap. The chosen video continued to play in the background as (Y/n) once again browsed through her phone.

It would continue for another hour or two until the young woman's stomach decided it was time for dinner. Slowly, (Y/n) got up from her comfortable position and walked to the kitchen. There she cooked her chosen meal and dined in her dining room. There, she ate quietly, with her ears listening to the noises of the distant tv. 

After dinner, she washed dishes, turned off the tv, and headed to the bathroom to start her nightly routine. (Y/n) walked out feeling refreshed and warm. Slipping into the bedroom, she approached the bedside table that had Jones' letters. She picked the one she opened earlier this morning and reread it.

"Hello Jones," (Y/n) greeted.

Good evening babe! I would have written you a letter this morning, but something happened. A few enemies made their way to our base and it was sort of bad. I wasn't working the night shift so it wasn't my fault this time. I think a few of our guys dozed off and I don't know if they're still alive or not. I hope they are, I really am hoping. It kind of sucks to die while you're sleeping. You don't go out fighting you know? I guess sometimes dying in your sleep is better than whatever the hell some of our guys go through every day. May they rest in peace, if they are found dead. I don't want to be super negative, so I won't talk about it too much. I know when to filter things out. The last time I said something bad, ma and pa said that someone inked out most parts of my letters. I also got scolded by my commanding officers for it. The boys said that they've told me about it a lot of times. They kinda joke about it, you know? Charles said I was the second one that got scolded by the commanding officer for sending something that has bad stuff in it. I guess I don't know when to shut my mouth. No love poem for tonight! As much as I want to write one for you, I'm a bit stressed. I can't really think much if I'm super stressed. I've also got to stay much focused tonight too since I'm on duty. I've got the night shift. With such little light around me, it really is hard to write. I can't even see my paper sometimes! I had to ask my partner to light his lighter so I can see. Don't worry, I already know I owe him a favor, so all is well! Say have you ever looked at the night sky and thought about the moon and the stars. I'd always wish on a shooting star, asking for this to end. I'm getting tired of seeing people die. Every day, it just happens, and I can just feel everything wrapping itself around my skull. This war is squeezing me and twisting me inside out. I don't feel like myself sometimes. I guess everyone is feeling the same. I wish I was the moon, just sitting there and looking at down at people. It seems so at peace. Hey, if I was the moon, would you be my star? We'd be together in the night sky. Just the two of us without care. I'd honestly like that very much. Wishing on a star is a childish thing though, isn't it? Sorry, if it makes me seem immature.  I'll be up for the rest of the night and I won't try sleeping either! I'll do my duty as a soldier and protect my friends! Hey, since I'll be up all night, I'll be your moon! I'll keep you safe at night. I may not be over there with you, but whenever you see the moon, that's going to be me! I'll see you as my star watching me and keeping me safe. I'm running out of paper again, so I'll see you the next time I write the letter! Good night, sweetheart, and sweet dreams. Sincerely, from your awesome, cool, moon guardian! A. F. J

"Moon guardian..." (Y/n) laughed, "I'm about to say good night." She smiled at the worn paper in her hands. Softly she hummed a "good night."

She placed the letter back in its envelope and tucked it back in her drawer. She fell asleep feeling happy, knowing that she would wake up and open a new letter. 

The birds sang their songs once dawn hit the sky. They perched on a tree that stood tall beside her home. The sun shining in her face was enough to tell (Y/n) to wake up. She tossed and turned around, trying to shield her face away from the rays of light. She knew she had to get out of bed though. Struggling just a bit, (Y/n) pushed herself up and rubbed her eyes. When she rose up from her bed, she immediately started doing her morning routine.

Soon enough, she was back at her bed, her hands already grabbing the wooden box. She pulled out a letter and eagerly opened it. Her head tilted to the side when she saw something inside. There was some weird plastic inside it. She carefully pulled out the envelope's contents, finding the usual letter and some wither flower. It was preserved just fine but with age, it was already losing its color.

She was afraid of setting it down, believing that it would immediately turn to dust as soon as she put it down. 

That wouldn't happen, right? it was in some weird clear plastic. 

Her eyes studied the item in her hand. She couldn't tell what kind of flower it was. Perhaps it was a daisy? It looked like it. It had a blue color, but it was barely there. It was mostly brown now. She put the pressed flower down on her bedside table and turned to the letter.

"Good morning soldier," (Y/n) greeted the letter, "I hope you have something to say about that flower."

Good afternoon babe! How have you been? I hope you've been swell over there at home. I know the last letter I sent made it seem like I was sad. I only know this because I've been thinking about that letter. If you're worried about me being sad, don't be! I swear I'll be okay. Sure, it's getting hard, with people just...dying here and there, but, hey, I'm trying to be happy for you. I want to set a good example you know? I want to be that kind of soldier that smiles through the pain. I'm trying to be super strong for everyone. For you, for ma and pa, and for my friends. I keep thinking... if I smile more, maybe my friends will too. Have I told you that Charles, Alex, and James haven't been smiling as much? I don't think I mentioned it before. I think I usually talk about myself and my thoughts. Well...I've been keeping track of my friends. Keeping a close eye on them. I've noticed that ever our first battle with some enemies, they haven't really been smiling. I care about them a lot, babe. Seeing them sad and all makes me feel horrible. I just want to help them and stuff, so I'm trying to be more optimistic.  Like, maybe I'll be a clown for them and make them smile. I'll work on getting my friends to smile genuinely, but for now, I want to talk about the gift I sent you! Do you like it? I got it from a kid I saved! Did you know he called me his hero? I felt so happy when he said that. It's been a long time since I've genuinely gotten happy, so, having that kid say that to me... made me feel really nice. I hope our kids would say that I'm a hero. Well, future kids, anyway. That is if you want kids too! Don't worry, it's just a thought of mine. I figured I would send it to you since I think you might like it. You and the flower are equally as beautiful, so it fits! Ma and Pa got another one, but I don't know what flower it is. I remember the kid saying that the flower you have is a blue daisy, though. I don't know if anyone is growing blue daisies back at home. Maybe the one I send over will be the first you see! Keep it safe, okay? I sent many kisses to it, so, think of it as a packet of kisses, and also a pressed flower. I'll write to you when I can. Sincerely, from your super strong, cool, handsome hero, A. F. J.

"A blue daisy?" (Y/n) hummed. She placed the letter down on her lap and grabbed the flower and her phone. She looked up the picture of the flower and compared it to the preserved one she had. They had similar characteristics, even if one of them is withered and old. 

"It's pretty," (Y/n) smiled, "I'll make sure I'll keep it somewhere safe." She tucked the letter back in its case and placed it inside her drawer. She looked at the pressed flower in her hand. Perhaps she should pin it? Maybe she could put it away in her dresser. She wants to show it off though. 

Quietly, she looked up for ways to take care of preserved flowers. It might be a bit hard to preserve the one she has right now. This flower is basically as old as the elderly today. She had to treat it with more care than usual. 

The young woman mumbled things to herself as she browsed. She ended up reading an article that gave her a few tips and tricks on how to take care of her gift. She managed to get off topic and find herself in a page that explained the symbolism of certain flowers. She came across the one for the blue daisy. The website said that the blue daisies symbolize trust, honesty, and loyalty.

(Y/n) doubts that Jones knew the symbolism for the flower. He probably thought the flower was pretty and sent it to his sweetheart. Still, learning about what the flower symbolized was neat. Just a little piece of trivia that she'll keep in her mind. 

She tucked the blue daisy inside another drawer. She doesn't really have anything to store it in right now, so that's all she has. (Y/n) already planned to put it on a frame. She was just missing the frame right now. There's nothing to do today so she might as well go shopping. 

She needed to buy groceries today anyway. 

Humming, (Y/n) stood up from her bed and went to grab her bag and her keys. She left her home and drove to different stores, taking anything she needed. Though she originally planned on buying just groceries, she figured that she would buy herself a few trinkets. She went to a variety of places, like a clothing store, an electronics store, and a bookstore. 

Her outing became an unexpected shopping spree. 

The woman came home around nighttime. She didn't think she would spend that long in the shopping center. (Y/n) came home exhausted, but happy. She exited her car and approached her trunk. She pulled out the different bags. Her mind was focused on getting her things inside her house that she didn't notice a person approaching her.

"H-Hey-" a voice called out.

(Y/n) tensed up and tightly clenched her bag. She was ready to hit whoever was there beside her. Slowly, she turned her head and looked at the person who tried talking to her. 

It was a blonde guy with dark blue eyes. There was an odd purple tint blended with his blue irises. He wore glasses, a red checkered shirt, and pajamas. His skin was light, but there was a bright blush on his face. He wore a shy smile.

"S-Sorry! Did I scare you?" the man asked. 

(Y/n) didn't know what to make of the guy. He seemed friendly enough to her and he didn't really pose a threat to her. The young woman looked at him more humming.

"You sort of did. Sorry about my tight response, I can't really be off guard when it comes to being alone at night," (Y/n) confessed, "but you're okay. Did you need anything? If my tree's branches fell on your property, I'll clean that up for you in the morning."

"No- no no it's not your tree," the blonde responded, "I was going to get mail but I saw you and you had a bunch of bags. I figured it was only right to help you out. Oh! I...I umm...should have asked first. Can I help you out with those?"

This guy was getting mail? At this hour? Wasn't it super late? Well...maybe he just forgot to get today's mail. 

The young woman looked at the stranger and nodded. She was taking a risk trusting this guy but he was her neighbor. She had to get friendly with the neighbors eventually. Who knows, maybe she could finally have a friend around this area. 

(Y/n) split up the bags and prompted the blonde to follow her to her door. She placed her bags down and pulled out her keys to open her door. Once unlocked, the door was pushed open and the two were immediately hit with a cold breeze. She mumbled words to herself as she flipped on the living room lights and went straight to the thermostat. 

"This house is always cold, I swear," (Y/n) frowned. Her (e/c) eyes looked to a bluish-purple gaze. "You can put those bags over there." 

Her neighbor nodded and followed her orders. He helped her out with more of her bags until there was none left. There they stood behind her car, their eyes looking at each other. 

"Thank you for your help," the (h/c)-haired woman smiled, "I'm (Y/n) (L/n) by the way. It's very nice to meet you."

"Ah...Matthew...my name is Matthew Williams. It's very nice to meet you too." The timid male looked around, his hands hiding inside his pockets. "If you ever need help and stuff I'm right next door. You can always ring it."

"Gotcha," (Y/n) responded. "I'll see you around, Matthew."

Matthew muttered a short "yeah," and smiled at the young woman. The blonde excused himself and returned back to his house. (Y/n) watched him get his mail from his mailbox. He turned around and waved, with the woman returning the gesture. They both retreated back to their homes at the same time. 

(Y/n) sighed as she looked at her many bags. It was time for her to put all of the purchases away. Since she already had her dinner, she pretty much had all the time in the world to put them away. One by one, she sorted her items out. She put the groceries with the rest of the groceries and the clothes with the other clothes. Miscellaneous things were put away last.

She walked to her bedroom and immediately sat down. In her hand, she held a picture frame. It was the kind that had a hole at the back. She was planning on hanging it on her bedroom wall. She had thumbtacks in her drawer already, so she didn't have to get out. She unhinged the back of the frame so she didn't have to struggle with it later. (Y/n) opened the drawer that had the flower inside. Carefully, she took the plastic out and placed it inside the frame. 

Taking out a thumbtack and inserting it in her wall, she hung up the pressed flower. She took a few steps back to look at her small project. It was pretty for her, despite its age. 

"Thank you Jones for the decoration," (Y/n) grinned. She exited her room to get herself ready for bed. 

(Y/n) hummed a tune in the shower. As the warm water hit her bare skin, she let her thoughts bounce around in her mind. There were thoughts about the party she had to attend tomorrow. She wasn't nervous about the hang-out, really. She was mostly worried about not having anyone to talk to, since Felicia usually had guests she didn't know.

The only people she was familiar with were Felicia, her girlfriend, and her sister Oriana. Other than that, they were strangers. There might be a few coworkers in there though, so she might be okay.

Her mind starts to wander again. There he was again.

Jones.

She thought about how he would spend his new years, if he celebrated it at all. She was hoping that he spent it with his friends Charles, Alex, and James, but a part of her knew that his celebration might be horrible. The thought left a twisting feeling in her gut. (Y/n) shook off her thoughts and focused on the more optimistic prediction. 

The (h/c)-haired woman slipped out of the bathroom and got dressed into comfortable sleepwear. She sat on the bed afterward and immediately picked up her phone so she could watch videos for the rest of the evening. Unexpectedly, sleep catches her consciousness and she's drifted off into her dreams. 

The morning would get her back to her senses. (Y/n) finds herself with her phone off. She tried to turn it off but finds that there's no more battery. Cursing quietly, she reached over the edge and reached for her charger so she could plug in her phone. She felt peace when her phone's screen lit up again. 

The time appeared at the top of her screen. 

It was almost noon.

(Y/n) hummed as she sunk back into bed. Her tired eyes stared up at the ceiling, her mind wandering once more. Today was New Years Eve...today was Felicia's party. The woman moved to the edge of the bed. She doesn't want to do much today, but she really wants to open a letter from Jones. She can hold off the rest of her morning routine for today.

The young woman leaned over and pulled out the box. She opened it and pulled out a letter. She decided to shake it so she could guess if there was anything in there or not. It sounded like there were only papers in there. Gift or not, it doesn't really matter to her. Just as long as she talks to Jones today, she was fine.

She ripped the envelope and plucked the letter inside. 

"Good morning Jones." Her voice was dry and deeper than usual, but it was intelligible enough for her. 

Good evening babe, I'm stuck on night duty again. I don't really like night duty as much as I like daytime duty. I can't really see as far. I go around wearing glasses for Christ's sake, of course, I can't see far. I guess they only want me to be here because I rarely sleep at night. The same goes for everyone here, though! I feel like my commanding officer is singling me out because I've done a lot of dumb stuff while we were working together. I guess working night duty won't be that bad because you're up in the sky as you know, my star guardian.  I should maybe drop the act, but it's really fun thinking that you're the stars in the sky. It helps with the moods you know. It's already a new year over here since I'm positive that it's already past midnight. Hell, you might even get this letter way past new years day, but I just want to say Happy New Year babe! I'll even draw fireworks for you! I can't, you know, listen to them though. Shit gives me really bad thoughts.  I don't mean to curse, but, to be honest, I might come to hate fireworks. The way they just sound it's just horrible. Reminds me of the explosions that constantly happen over here all the time. I wish the explosions were fireworks. I'm sick and tired of thinking that these damn explosions are going to kill me. At least with fireworks, they're a positive thing. They remind me of the Fourth of July, which, surprisingly, is the same day as my birthday. Lucky, aren't I? Every fourth of July, there are two celebrations going on. A bunch of fireworks, a lot of hot dogs, and hamburgers.  Wish I could kiss you right now. I really miss you, you know? Wish I was there holding you right now, but for now, all I have for you are words. If you need a kiss, I'll give you one for free! I don't have lipstick but I could maybe draw some lips for you! They're going to be my lips by the way!  I'm running out of paper, and I can't always have this light on me, so I have to say goodbye. Stay safe there always babe. I'll send a letter whenever I can! I'll be there with you always in spirit. From, your super handsome, heroic, moon guardian, A. F. J

Jones wasn't kidding when he said he would draw fireworks and a pair of lips. (Y/n) looked at the letter's decor. There were things that were sort of like fireworks, but they were only a dark blue color. They scattered all over the page, which made this letter different than the rest. His lips drawing made it even better too. 

(Y/n) giggled as she looked at the letter.

"Happy new year, soldier."

[tahanann]

-+ i realize that i've never fully updated love letters here and i don't have a masterlist set up so that's not very good, will do that eventually and hopefully i have the chapters out,

i am the BIG stupid LOL,

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 04: " you are a star from heaven " ✎▫✧⭒…

"How is my sweetheart doing in her new home," (Y/n)'s mother, Sylvia, spoke over the phone. The young woman smiled as she sat on her bed. A stream was playing on her laptop to give her company.

"It's okay mom," (Y/n) hummed, "I think it's got a few things I need to fix, but it's as cozy as it can get."

"I'm glad you're doing well over there," Sylvia replied, "Is it alright if Cherry and I visit you tomorrow? I wanna see how my little bug is doing."

"I think I'll definitely be free tomorrow mom," (Y/n) answered, "I've done all I can to make the house as cozy as it can get. Plus, I've got nothing else to do tomorrow so why not?" 

"That's sounds great. Make sure to get ready alright? We're taking you out to dinner."

"Those are the plans?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The smile on the (h/c)-haired woman's face grew. "Alright mom, I'll see you tomorrow then?" (Y/n) heard her mother mumble a short "yes," before saying her goodbye. She hung up the call afterward.

It was a bright morning and getting a call from her mother made the day just a bit better. She hasn't seen her mother in a while. The two women had been busy with their own lives. Her mother was always away on a trip to another country and (Y/n) was stuck at home and always working. She guessed the older woman had recently come home. Hanging out with her tomorrow would definitely be a treat. Maybe her mother might give her some sort of souvenir from her trip? She always does. 

(E/c) eyes stare at the laptop screen as a video continued to play. She had her phone down on the bedside table. She didn't need it right now anyway. She was too focused on watching whatever was going on on her laptop. She had not gotten out of her bed and was lazy to do so. It was cold today. Winter was dawning on the country. In a few days, it'll continue to get colder until it'll be hard to get out of bed. 

Snuggling closer to her blanket, she stayed in her bed for a few more hours. She only got up from the mattress because her stomach started to riot. Hearing the loud grumbles and stomach pains convinced her to crawl out of bed. (Y/n) shed off the blankets and put on her slippers. She walked to the bathroom and got ready. She stayed in her pajamas since they were already warming her up. 

She wasn't going outside today anyway, so there was no use in taking them off. 

The young woman brushed her hair, her teeth, and washed her face. She put light moisturizer to keep her face hydrated. Even if she had nothing to do today, it was always good to take care of her skin. She walked out of the bathroom and headed straight for the bed. The stream was still playing on her laptop, but that wasn't going to be distracting for her.

Her focus was on opening another letter from the soldier she's grown very fond of. She had been opening his letters for three months now and she definitely loves his company. She noticed that every time she read his words, she always mumbled to herself. She responded to him as if he would hear her. Of course, she was aware that he wasn't here, but it felt like he needed something to talk to. If by any chance his spirit was attached to his letters, she would love to tell him that she's here to talk to him.

What a lonely soldier Jones was. He seemed to ramble the most in his letters rather than talk to his friends. He was always eager to talk to his sweetheart. She can't emphasize how lucky his sweetheart was. (Y/n) was just disappointed that these envelopes were never opened. His girlfriend would have never realized how sweet he was to her. 

Sighing, (Y/n) opened an envelope she grabbed from the stack. The smile she had on her face earlier grew as she read his greeting.

"Good morning Jones," (Y/n) softly spoke.

Good morning babe! How are you this morning? I hope you are well! Make sure you're eating as much as you can and make sure you're staying strong back at home. I'm doing well myself. I'm getting used to eating the rations that they're giving out. The rest of my friends kind of hate it, since they're very bulky and heavy to carry, but I personally don't mind. The taste is starting to get better, at least. Charles, Alex, and James don't really like it. They said that I could only ignore the taste because I'm a big foodie. I'd say that they kind of need to stop complaining about it.  No offense to my friends and all, but all they've been doing is complain about a lot of things. It's hard to keep morale up in our base right now. The baseball broadcasts and the songs are barely helping most of the troops. Most of them want to go home. Granted, I want to go home too, but I have to stay here in Europe! I have a job to do and I aim to finish it with my head high! I swear I'm gonna be a hero! I'll try to be like Captain America too. He's always the hero, so I'm gonna be the hero to my friends and family! I'm sorry if all the letters I've had for you are complete nonsense. Nothing exciting or fun has come up. All I can spare is my banter. Hey, I mean, at least it feels like we're talking right? I hope I can still make you laugh, even if I can't really be there to make you. I want to ask you something if you don't mind. Of course, you don't have to answer this at all but I've just been wondering if my letters are enough for you. I've been thinking about it, honestly. My letters are good enough for ma and pa, but I'm not sure if it's enough for you. I've talked with Charles about his girlfriend and his letters. He tells me that his letters aren't enough for his girlfriend, so he's starting to put more into it.  I've been thinking about writing you love poems. I know they might sound cheesy or overly romantic but there's really nothing else I could come up with! It's what romantic people send, so I might as well do that. I would send you flowers I manage to pick from the fields, but those would wither and rot. I don't want to send you withered flowers. Ma says that it's always bad to do that. Love poems are probably all I can send you at the moment. I talked to Charles about the idea earlier and he said it wasn't at all bad. He even offered to help me out with it. I know that man can write great poems. He's an English major of course! He gave me a few ideas but I mostly did the poem stuff myself. I'm kind of proud of them too!  I know I didn't really ask for your permission about sending love poems but think of it as a surprise! I hope you like it. From your super awesome, cool, amazing, future husband, A. F. J.

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side as she looked at the ending of the letter. There was another page. She assumed that was the page that had the poem. The poem had no title and it was quite short. At the end of it were a heart and his signature. It looked to have his full name, but she could never decipher it because of how it crossed itself out. Placing the letter down beside her, she looked at the last page.

In the beginning, my whole world was dark Everything was cold and blurry Every day I had prayed for a change and then you came when I first looked at you, the world cleared up Your sparkling eyes brought light Your smile brought warmth when I saw you, I knew my prayer had been answered you are a star from heaven destined to bring joy to my world

The young woman stared at the words on the paper. A free hand brought itself to her chest and placed itself atop her heart. The grin on her face grew as she felt giddy. She began giggling, her hand now covering her mouth. 

"Jones-" (Y/n) spoke, "It's a lovely poem." She was warmed by his words. She couldn't explain why she felt this way, but she knew that it made her happy. A part of her was saying that she had developed feelings for the soldier, but another was in disbelief. Her disbelief overpowered (Y/n)'s acceptance. 

Gently she placed the letter and poem back in the envelope. She smiled at it. Reading a love poem was certainly a good way to start the day. The woman made her way to the kitchen, carrying her laptop. She wanted to have the noise fill the kitchen too.

After (Y/n) ate her first meal of the day, she spent the remaining hours in her bedroom. Since it had been her lazy day, she refused to exit the comfort of her blankets unless she had to go eat or had to go to the bathroom. She spent it alone, as no one tried to call her. Her friends and family had their own things to do today anyway. 

Eventually, the day closed in on her and night arrived. The woman got herself ready for bed. Once she tucked herself in the covers, her (e/c) eyes stare up at the ceiling. Jones' words found themselves in her head again. The way she thought about being the light of his life. No. It was impossible. He never referred to her. He was referring to his girlfriend.

She wasn't her. She could never be. (Y/n) scolded herself for thinking that way.

The realization that she was only a spectator made (Y/n) bitter. She wasn't his beloved, and he was never hers. That horrid feeling was stuck in her stomach, making it hard for her to sleep.

Moonlight seeped through the blinds, illuminating her features. From the outside, her eyes genuinely sparkled like the skies. It really did feel as if he was referring to her. The letters made her feel that she was his baby, but that was only a delusion. She can't become attached to a man she knew was dead.

Why was it so easy for her to get charmed by words? 

She was in disbelief for a reason. It was a barrier that she didn't want to break. She couldn't fall in love. He's not even...here with her. They were timelines apart.

(Y/n) scrunched her nose before sighing. The thoughts in her mind made it hard for her to sleep. She ended up passing out around early morning, only to wake up a few hours later to a call from her mother. The young woman groaned as she reached for her phone and picked it up. Her hoarse voice mumbled a short "hello."

"(Y/n)," Sylvia hummed, "I'm guessing you just woke up?"

"Yeah," the young woman whispered, "Hold on. I'll get ready though."

"Oh! We're not there yet! I just wanted to call you and say that we're on our way. We might be there super early though. I just wanted to call you in advance and tell you about it." The older woman over the phone was obviously chipper today. She was excited to see her daughter of course.

The (h/c)-haired lady smiled and nodded. She told her goodbye over the phone and hung up. Her hand dropped limply on the bed as her eyes stare up at her blank ceiling. The thoughts that she wanted to sleep away were still there. A sour look decorated her face as she tried to push them away. She doesn't want to be thinking about him. No no...she doesn't want him occupying her mind. 

She may be fond of him, but whatever she was feeling, she was hoping it would go away.

(Y/n) pushed herself up from her bed and crawled out. She slipped on her slippers to avoid the cold floor and entered the bathroom. Throughout the morning, she did her routine and changed into a comfortable set of clothes. It wasn't too light or too heavy. She knew that it was probably chilly outside, but the car she was going to be in would be warm. Her mother always loved a warm car. She retreated back to her bed to grab the box of letters. 

Opening letters was part of her routine already. She picked, ripped, and plucked out the letter from the envelope. She mumbled the usual "Good morning Jones," before reading his words.

Good morning babe! I hope your days have been going great back at home. I wasn't able to send a letter the day after I sent the last one. We had a busy week, actually. Right now, writing this letter, I'm actually on a break. I'm with Charles, Alex, and James right now. They're kind of in another room, and I genuinely hope that they don't walk in on me writing to you. Charles asked about you the other day. He knows we're together since I mentioned it to him when we were talking about love poems. He was asking how I met you and stuff.  You remember how we met right? At that bookstore back on campus. The way I reached over to grab a book for you. I took you out for coffee after that. You remember it of course! I told Charles about it and I thought that it would be the end of it. He kept asking for more though. I just, sort of ignore most of it. I know he's an understanding guy. He knows that I want stuff to be private sometimes. He didn't suspect me as the type to be private about personal life, you know? Charles said that even if I had a romantic partner I would constantly talk about them, but, he was wrong about that. It's not that I'm ashamed to talk about you! I would talk more about you, for sure! I adore you too much to even talk bad things about you. What's holding me back is that I know how they are. They're the kind of guys that'll judge any girl they come across. Sure, that might sound bad, but please trust me they are good folk. I like them! They're my best buds since college. If you were to meet them in person, I'm sure you would love them too. They just look out for me, you know? They're worried that you don't deserve me, which, I completely disagree with. We deserve each other equally! All our hard work has led us to be together, and that's what I like to believe. I'm not the big giant romantic but hey, ma always said that that's how love is. I used to not believe in that crap but honestly, with how it was with us, I believe it now.  I sound super cheesy, I'm aware. Charles already knows about us and has already told the rest about it, but they don't know the full details. They only know that we're together and nothing else. Frankly, I'd like to keep it that way.  I'm sorry babe, but we have to keep things a secret. I do adore you wholeheartedly, but, for now, I'd just have to keep you a secret. Please don't get mad at me for it. I'm doing it for us. Since I have a bit of paper, I want to tell you about how we're doing over here. I think things are going well for us right now. It seems like we're actually winning. We're pushing these bastards back into a corner. I can almost taste victory babe. We're gonna be heroes at the end for sure! I know there's more fighting to do, but that's what I like to believe.  I heard that the homefront is kind of stressful. Charles' girlfriend was talking about it in her letters! I hope you're taking care of yourself back at home. I don't want you stressing about anything. Don't worry about stuff and most of all don't worry about me. I can handle myself. A hero can always take care of themselves! Please be well back at home. When I'm free again, I will send you a letter saying how it is over here in Europe. I'll always have you in my thoughts. Sincerely, your superheroic, cool, future-husband to be, A.F.J.

(Y/n) arched a brow while she read the letter. She didn't expect all the stuff in the letter. It felt out of place, especially for Jones. She's only read his letters for three months but it was really easy to read him. The way he was protective of his girlfriend's identity was bizarre to her, but perhaps that was just a side (Y/n) has never seen before. She can't go around thinking that she knows about him. She should expect surprises.

The young woman shrugged her shoulders as she tucked the paperback in its place. She thought about the letter more. She did agree with Charles in thinking that Jones was the type to talk about his girlfriend a lot more. With how he rambled in his past letters, it was obvious it was what he would do. It's strange that he's hearing news about the homefront from his friend's girlfriend though. There was a thought in her mind that said that Jones' girlfriend never sent letters back to him. (Y/n) wanted to give her the benefit of doubt though. 

Maybe she just didn't want to talk about how things are stressful back in America so Jones didn't have to worry. 

It didn't make sense for her.

The more her mind thought about Jones' girlfriend, she grew bitter. How would that woman know how Jones was feeling if she has never opened these letters. The fact that these letters are unopened by Jones' significant other is the biggest mystery to (Y/n). She already had theories about the girlfriend not wanting to open them at all because she didn't love him. She wanted to believe that it wasn't the case. 

(Y/n) felt her face scrunch up as she grew frustrated with Jones' affairs. She let out a sigh, deciding to let go of the thoughts. If she thought about it more, she would be sour for the entire day. Taking in a deep breath, (Y/n) shook her head. There was nothing else to do. Might as well just wait around.

The young woman sat around her home until her mother called her cellphone. (Y/n) walked grabbed her necessary things and exited the front door, locking it with her keys. She saw her mother's car and entered the back seat. She knew that her lover was riding shotgun and besides, she was fine with sitting at the back anyway.

Everyone in the car exchanged greetings before focusing on their own things. (Y/n) put on headphones and listened to music for the rest of the ride. She could hear her mother talk to her girlfriend in the background. She didn't want to eavesdrop on them. It seemed important. Her (e/c) eyes were stuck staring outside the window. She watched cars zoom by them. The scenes change the more they drove outside of town. 

Just like her father, Sylvia wanted to bring (Y/n) outside of town. They were headed in a completely opposite direction though. They took a different highway, different routes, and ended up in a busy city. It was almost like the place her father brought her to, except, they didn't enter a shopping mall. 

(Y/n)'s mother, Sylvia, ushered her child out of the car almost eager to enter the restaurant. Cherry stood beside the other older woman and spared the younger one a smile. Sylvia latched on to her girlfriend and walked beside her child. 

"How's my sweetheart," Sylvia grinned, her green eyes shining, "Anything new happens over the past few months?"

"I'm fine mom," (Y/n) replied, "Nothing much happened, honestly. Same old same old."

Her mother nodded and spared her a smile. Nothing else came out of their mouths as they walked in silence. Sylvia became more focused on talking to her new significant other rather than talking to her own child. (Y/n) didn't seem to mind. In fact, she almost was used to it. 

She was aware of how her mother rarely had words for her. She liked to believe that Sylvia just didn't know what to say to her. (Y/n) was had always been closer to her father than her mother. It's awkward between them, but she appreciates how her mother still tries. 

Sometimes, anyway.

The three women walked to the restaurant. Cherry was the one that had talked to the front counter about the reservations. (Y/n) stuck around, shadowing their steps. Once led to their seats, her (e/c) eyes explored the interior. There was a glass chandelier hanging above a couple of chairs and an aquarium beside the wall. It was a buffet-style restaurant, so customers grabbed their food from the stalls. 

(Y/n), her mother and her mother's lover waited around until the waiter came around. They ordered their drinks and sat around until the refreshments arrived. Sylvia called her daughter over to get some food with her. The young woman nodded and stood up. Her (e/c) eyes connected with Cherry's, with the older woman dismissing her. She had a look that said that she should probably get the food with her mother. (Y/n) spared her a short smile before following her mother's lead.

This was how the mother and her daughter bonded most of the time. Sylvia dragged her willing daughter around and starts conversations whenever they're alone or doing something together. Their topics were mostly lighthearted, ranging from how delicious the food looked, to how she liked being with her daughter again. (Y/n) was eager to talk to her mother too. The younger woman made conversation with her mother until they returned to the table.

Cherry walked out on the mother and daughter to get her food, leaving (Y/n) and Sylvia alone again.

"Mom, do you think I can ask you something serious?" (Y/n) asked, clearing the silence around her and her mother.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" Sylvia replied, her eyebrows raised.

"I want to ask about...well...falling in love and stuff," (Y/n) mumbled. 

The question brought a big smile to the older woman at the table. Even a short laugh too. 

"Sweetheart you sound like a teenager you know?" (Y/n)'s mother cooed, "Are you having trouble with love? I'm flattered you asked me about it."

"Not really? Sort of? I don't know," the young woman sighed, "I don't know how to feel. I get weird feelings about this one guy. I feel like mush whenever I hear him say words. He...he Uhm. He sent a love poem to me the other day and it made me feel really warm inside."

"Oh sweetheart," Sylvia giggled, "you're in love with this person aren't you."

"I don't want to say it's love though mom, but it kinda does feel like it." (Y/n) looked away from her mother, sighing. "I've only known him for three months. It's just...I don't want to think of it as love. It's hard to accept."

"You don't have to accept it right away. When the time is right, you'll feel it, I assure you." Sylvia reached out to grab (Y/n)'s hand, softly caressing the back of her hand. "Once you've come to accept it, it'll feel like a rush of joy will hit you. That's how I felt when I was your age. The feeling is really addicting and it leaves you wanting more."

(Y/n) listened to her mother's words, nodding at everything she said. She'll take those words to heart. She likes her mother and believes in her advice. She trusts her as much as she trusts her father. Breathing in deeply and sighing, she sent a smile to the older woman at the table. 

"Thank you, mom." 

"Of course, sweetheart, any time."

Sylvia pulled her hand away from (Y/n)'s so that she was able to eat her food. Cherry eventually reunited with the duo and they all started eating their food. They ate in comforting silence, with conversations sometimes breaking it. The three women finished their food and headed back to the car, where they drove to a park to hang out some more. 

(Y/n) returned back home around the evening. Her mother accompanied her as she walked to the front door. The old woman looked at her bag and pulled something out. It was a postcard, a magnet, and a teddy bear. The teddy bear was wearing a shirt that had the Italian flag on it.

"Here," Sylvia smiled, "I went to Italy and got these for you. I would have gotten you some sort of t-shirt, but I think you would have liked the teddy bear instead."

(Y/n) looked at the things her mother gave her. Eagerly she accepted the presents and hugged her. Gently, Sylvia returned the gesture.

"You be good now, okay?" (Y/n)'s mother hummed.

"I will," (Y/n) replied, "Thank you again, mom."

The two women pulled away and said their goodbyes. (Y/n) spent the rest of the evening home with thoughts about what her mother said and her feelings for the soldier.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 03: " I hit homeruns when I was young" ✎▫✧⭒…

(Y/n) had only been reading Jones' letters for a few days, but she wakes up every morning almost giddy to hear a word from him. The woman knew that it was strange for her to feel like this. In fact, she questioned why she was like this, but she never found an answer to it. Maybe it was because it felt like she had company in her new home.

She was growing fond of jones, after reading three weeks' worth of letters. His banter manage to make her laugh sometimes. When she said that Jones was good company, she really meant it. Sometimes Jones would mention his close friends, and how tight-knit they've become ever since joining the army. He's talked about how the days have been warm, despite the war around them.

Jones enjoyed being around his friends, shooting and fighting for a cause that he believed was right. He speaks of heroism in his letters, wishing that one day he too would be regarded as a hero, be it just a family hero or the town hero. 

Whenever (Y/n) reads his letters, there's some sort of pang of guilt and sadness nestled in her stomach. It made her sick, but she tried to laugh it off. The woman pitied him, seeing as he wanted so much in life. She doesn't know how his story ends, but she hopes and prays that it won't end horribly. 

Another day has passed in the woman's home.

(Y/n) flutters her eyes open as the sun shines in her eyes. The woman sat up from her bed, rubbing her eyes as she yawned. She edges off her bed, put on her slippers, and started her morning routine. As she didn't have work today, she figured that she might spend it with her dad. The old man had texted her earlier in the week, asking if he could come over. 

As (Y/n) hadn't seen her dad in a while, she agreed. He would be coming over today. Her mother was busy working anyway.

The lady made her way to her room, fully awake and fresh for the day. She pushes strands of her hair back as she looked through her phone. Her dad might take a while to get her, so...she has time. Hopping off the mattress, she reaches underneath to pull out the box. She picked a letter from the stack and tucked the container back under the bed. She was ever so gentle when opening it. 

A smile appeared on her features as she read the greeting.

Good evening babe! Today was a bit eventful! It was a rest day for our group and someone sent out the other soldiers to fight in the field today. The majority of soldiers crowded the radio since they were talking about the latest game between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees! Let me tell you, babe, the amount of cheering and screaming we had tonight was as loud as the soldiers yelling at each other during battle. Even Charles and Alex were fighting with each other!  You know how they are. When it comes to baseball, they are definitely rivals. They always like different teams, but as for me? Well babe, Boston all the way! Hey, if you're a fan of New York Yankees, I don't really mind. Well, there might be a few moments where we might bicker, but hey, I honestly hope it ain't serious! Besides, there'll be more sports memorabilia in our home right?  Well, I don't want to assume that you like sports and all! We just never really talked about sports when we were together. I don't think I bothered asking, honestly. If I did, I would have taken you to a Red Sox game for a date! Anyway, speaking of sports, and since I have a lot more paper, let me tell you about my sports history! I would have loved to bring it up to you when we were still together, but unfortunately, that didn't happen. I don't think I've ever told you that I was on a baseball team back then! Before my ma and pa moved, we were in Boston, hence why I'm such a big fan of the Red Sox. Got to support the local team you know? Anyway, I actually joined a mini-league in elementary and high school! I dreamed of becoming the best hitter out there! Well, as you can probably see, I didn't really get there. All the academics were catching up to me. Of course, I could have pursued it in college, but with the economics major, it was getting harder to have free time. Maybe one day I'll be able to play one game, especially when I get home. Hey, if you ever wanna try hitting home runs I can always teach you when I get home! I would love to teach you baseball. If you're already a home runner, then, maybe we can compete to see how many home runs we can get. Please continue to take care of yourself, babe. I can't wait to see your next letter. From your super cool and super handsome and super awesome boyfriend, A. F. J.

(Y/n) looked at the letter, specifically at the paragraph where Jones was talking about teaching his sweetheart baseball. There was something crossed out between "I would love to teach you baseball" and "If you're already a home runner..." She tilted her head to the side as she eyed it out. Jones has never crossed out the words in his letters. Most of the time, his writing was tidy, with a few grammatical errors here and there.

What was he trying to erase?

She sat there for a moment, thinking if she should try and uncover what he was trying to say. She was already trying to figure him out, might as well see whatever he covered up.

The woman placed the letter down on the bed and went to turn on the bedroom lights. Returning, she held the letter up in the air, turning it to a certain angle. The light illuminated through the paper, showing the many marks. There it was, the blocked-out text.

"I'd say I still got it, since I've hit a home run with you." (Y/n) arched her brow as she read the lines out loud.

"Are you kidding? that's what you blocked out?" A soft giggle escape her lips as she shook her head. She doesn't know whether she should grimace or laugh more at Jones' pick-up line. He could definitely use some work when it comes to pick-up lines.

It was weird. This was the only letter so far where he's said a pick-up line. Since he crossed that out, he probably read over the letter himself and got embarrassed by it. He didn't have a paper to write the letter over again, so he had to block it out. 

A smile appeared on the woman's face as she tucked the letter back in its envelope. She placed it inside a drawer with the rest of the opened letters. She left her bed to get ready to meet her father. As she was still in her pajamas, she figured that she should probably change into more casual clothes. 

(Y/n) knew her dad. He was the type of guy to bring her outside, complaining that she should get more sunlight. Her work and her hermit lifestyle made it impossible for her to get some sun. She doesn't know where he's going to take her but she'll prepare her bags. 

Grabbing her bag of choice from her closet, she brought it out to the bed, placing everything she needs. Her wallet and portable charger were tucked in the main pocket. Whatever she considered was essential to her trip was tucked in her bag. 

She lazed around in her room, browsing through her phone for whatever might interest her. She would stay there for an hour or two until her father called her cell. 

"Hey," (Y/n) grinned, "Lemme guess, you're already outside dad."

"Yeah, and I honestly hope you're out of your pajamas because I'm taking you to the mall," (Y/n) father, Raphael spoke. A hearty laugh was heard through the cell as (Y/n) made her way outside. 

"Don't worry, I already know you were taking me outside today, dad." She hung up the call and shoved her phone in one of her free pockets. The woman roamed around her home for a bit, taking out plugs from their sockets. It was to conserve energy and lessen the chance of her old home from bursting into flames. She made her way to the front door and locked it once she was outside. 

There, parked in her driveway, was her father's car. She doesn't really much about cars, but she knows from her dad that it was an older version of a Dodge Challenger. Somewhere around the '70s. The red hot car revved its engine as soon as (Y/n) came into view. The woman could only roll her eyes before making her way to the passenger seat. 

"You're gonna disturb the neighbors, dad," (Y/n) mumbled, buckling her seat.

"This neighborhood is too quiet. Gotta fill this graveyard with something," Raphael joked around. He backed up his car from the driveway and drove forward to wherever. He said the mall earlier but this old man's mind changes pretty often. He might take her somewhere else. Whatever the surprise might be, (Y/n) is sure that it isn't going to be that bad.

Throughout the ride, the woman talked with her father. Most of the time their conversations revolved around how he fared with his new wife and how she was doing with the new house. (Y/n) doesn't have any strong feelings against her father's new wife. It's an ok relationship. As for the house, a few cold spots here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Well for owning an old house anyway. 

The car eventually stopped in a parking lot, with the father leaving the car first. He was quick to his feet and opened the door for his daughter. 

"Dad-" (Y/n) mumbled.

"Come on, let me be the gentleman this fine evening," Raphael grinned. 

The woman rolled her eyes before exiting the car. She walked alongside her father as they approached the giant mall. It was a place she's never been to before. The ride to the mall did take a while. In fact, earlier, she had noticed that they passed the usual way for the local mall. They must be in another town.

They walked around together, with the father spoiling his child just like he had done in the past. Whenever (Y/n) had pulled out her wallet to pay for something, her father always barged in and pulled out his card. Every time he did that, the woman had a defeated look on her face, but she shook it off and laughed. 

Raphael carried the many bags filled with both his and his daughter's stuff. They made their way to the food court, but they stopped. 

"I've got a better idea. What do you say we go to some buffet or a fancier restaurant!" The bearded man grinned looking at his daughter. 

"And walk in looking like this?" (Y/n) smiled, "those fancy restaurants will never catch me wearing just this." The woman tugged on her dad's arm, pointing at the food court. "Besides, we've spent so much already! You wouldn't want Jeanne getting angry at you again for spending so much on me." 

"You do have a point," Raphael mumbled, "I mean maybe the new bags can make Jeanne smile."

"Maybe," (Y/n) hummed, "Still, you should probably save money, dad." 

The old man nodded his head. He didn't want to prolong his conversation with her. He knew how his daughter is. If she disagreed with him, especially with matters like this, they would go on for hours. She's got her mother's mouth, that's for sure, but that isn't inherently a bad thing. It's what made him love her mother.

Raphael let his daughter lead the way as he carried the many bags. He found a spot for two and he let (Y/n) walk towards the restaurant they would eat lunch at. He messed with his phone, texting his wife saying that he's still with his daughter. The woman would take a while waiting in line, so he figured he could have a conversation with her.

(Y/n) returned with a tray of food in her hand. The young woman knew her father like the back of her hand. Whatever she liked, he liked as well. So their orders were practically identical to each other but each plate had its own twist to it. The old man looked up from his phone and beamed. 

"Looks delicious," Raphael spoke.

"Well I hope it tastes delicious too," (Y/n) replied. She sat down in front of her father and gave him his food. The father and his child started eating right away. They were quiet for a bit, as they critiqued the food they ate. They looked at each other, sharing a glance and facial expression.

The food was good after all. 

They two continued to eat, each taking a spoonful of their food. They slowed down after a bit, taking in their choice of drink. They shared a glance for a moment. Another conversation was about to start.

"You know you've grown so much. I remember just seeing you and you were this small kid in front of me," Raphael chuckled, "Now look at you. You've grown into a pretty lady. I'm sure you've caught someone's eye."

"Are you kidding?" (Y/n) asked, "Let me guess, you want grandkids don't you."

"Hey hey hey, I didn't explicitly say that." The old man sipped his drink, his (e/c) eyes looking to his daughter's pair. "Come on you're a young woman, you've got to at least have someone in mind."

The woman thought about it. Her mind started drifting to the people that she's met over her life. Most of the people she's seen so far were friends. Fondness, yes, but attraction, no.

"No one, so far, dad." The (h/c) haired woman sighed, swirling his drink. 

Raphael nodded and smiled at her. It will take some time for a lucky person to come into her life. He knew it would. If it took him a while to find that special someone, albeit twice, it will for her. He knew not to rush, but of course, like any other parent, his desire for grandkids was really strong. 

"Well hurry it up, I want grandkids," Raphael chuckled. He had said it in a tone that meant that he wasn't at all that serious. The old man pushed his graying hair off of his face as he sighed. His eyes connected with his daughter's once more.

"But in all seriousness, don't rush love. It'll eventually come to you if you've been hoping. That lucky person will eventually come into your life, just like how your two moms came into mine, and trust me, goodness, they realization will blow you away." Raphael sipped his drink, almost downing the remaining contents.

(Y/n) only nodded, smiling at her father. She knew how he felt and she couldn't help but laugh lightly. "I know, I know. How many times have you given me this sort of lecture?"

"Lecture? This is hardly a lecture. If you want a lecture, go ask your mom," Raphael snickered. 

The two finished eating their food, cleaned up their table, and gathered their things. The father and daughter only stayed in the mall for a few hours, before they retreated back to the car. As Raphael placed their belongings in the trunk, (Y/n) browsed through her phone. She texted a few friends, most were work and close friends before she returned her attention to her father.

He sent her a smile before he looked ahead. He started the car and drove off. (Y/n) assumes it was back to her home. The drive back to her house was rather quiet, but the two found comfort in the silence. Eventually, (Y/n) had turned on the radio, as it was absent earlier. It fills up the air just a bit. The woman started to softly hum along to the music that played.

After a few minutes, (Y/n) started talking.

"Hey dad," (Y/n) said, "Did any of my grandparents ever fight in some war?"

"War?" Raphael mumbled, "There was your granddad that fought in the second world war for Allied forces. Not sure about your mom's side though. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing," (Y/n) sighed.

Her father arched a brow. "You know I'm not going to take nothing as an answer, especially since that question just came out of nowhere." His lips formed into a frown as he side-eyed his daughter. 

The woman pursed her lips together as she looked away from him. "Well," (Y/n) whispered, "I found a box of letters and they're dated...they're dated back to 1940s. You know, when the war was happening." She found it hard to speak for some reason. She wasn't sure why. She gently messed with her arms as she tried to find words. Raphael gave her time. He knew she needed it. 

Taking in a deep breath, she spoke again. "The letters are from a guy named Jones. I don't know his first name. I only know his last name because that's the sender's name. The letters were never opened and just kept in the house in the box and they were hiding under the closet in my room."

"Let me guess...you opened them," Raphael commented.

"Yeah," (Y/n) breathed out. 

"You just unleashed a curse," the old man teased, laughing a little. 

"Uh-huh. There's a curse on the house now I guess, and ooooh, a ghost is haunting me now," (Y/n) snickered. She shook her head, feeling a bit better that she got a laugh out. "But seriously, the letters are kinda weird. They're like...love letters or something. Well! Not really like those old love letters that Shakespeare might write or something, but you know, some sappy stuff. I just have this guy's letters to his sweetheart saying that he's excited to start a life with her."

"Did you open all of the letters?" He asked. 

"N-No. I'm doing this one by one, actually." She replied.

Raphael hummed, "How many letters are there." 

"Enough to read for a year, which is why I'm reading one each day." (Y/n) brushed her hair with her hands. "I wanted to ask if granddad had like...some sort of friend named Jones, but thinking about it now, he probably wouldn't have."

"Jones you said?" Raphael asked, "I dunno if your grandpa did have someone like that. We can't exactly ask a corpse you know." 

"That's kinda grim," (Y/n) softly laughed.

"But, hey, I'll look into it. I can't exactly just go off of his initials or his last name but I wanna help you out." With a free hand, Raphael gently nudged his daughter. They shared a small smile. 

For the rest of the ride, it was quiet. Raphael pulled up on (Y/n)'s driveway and made his way to the trunk. He didn't help his kid out of the car this time because she had to open the door. A cold gust went through (Y/n), making her shiver. The cold lingered until she moved to flick the lights on. She called her father over and asked him to place the shopping bags on the living room floor. The young lady thanked him before seeing him out the door. 

"Hey stay safe alright?" Raphael mumbled. He gently pulled his daughter into a hug. (Y/n) hugged back as well. 

"I will, dad." The two pulled away and the old man retreated back to his car. (Y/n) watched as her father drove away from her home. She lingered at the front door again, feeling a gust of cold wind wrap around her form. There it was again.

Seriously, what's with this house and it being so cold. 

(Y/n) shrugged her shoulders and went back inside her home, where she stayed for the rest of the day. She did what she could to pass the day. She didn't want to think about the faceless soldier for the remainder of the day. Later at night, (Y/n) found herself staring at her bedroom ceiling. Her mind wandered, peeking into thoughts that drifted. It lingered on one.

Jones. 

"You played baseball, surely that'll give me something," (Y/n) murmured to herself, "But then again, that doesn't shorten the list at all. In fact, I bet there are a shit ton of kids with the last name of Jones and played baseball back then." The woman rubbed her eyes as she turned her body.

Softly she sighed. "I feel like I'm chasing someone who doesn't exist. That's probably the case. Maybe this is just some prank from the past owners."

Even if it was, would she stop? No. She doesn't think she will. 

The woman drifted off to sleep after she had cleared her mind. The moon gave her company for the evening, giving cool light to her covered form. Soon the morning came and ripped the moon from the sky. Brightly the sun shined. It was a new day, and a new day meant a new letter.

(Y/n) had done the usual morning routine and found herself drifting to her bed, her hands already making their way to grab the box that hid underneath. She opened it gently and plucked an envelope. This marks the 23rd letter. 

Good morning babe! I know I didn't write to you for a few days but that's only because we ran out of paper at the base for a while. Some guy was using a lot of the papers to just burn them. What kind of idiot does that? Hey, I may be using a lot of the papers right now, but that's because I've been sending letters to you and ma and pa. I only have a few papers to fill up, so I'm sorry of all the words seem crammed together. I just don't want to write less to you and my folks back at home. Anyway, I'd say I'm feeling pretty good today! Some guy managed to get a few comic books from this bookstore and he brought them back to base. I'd say that it's a feat. I haven't seen comic books in a while and I'm honestly really glad that someone managed to get them in the base! I was super stoked when the guy gave me this special edition of Captain America. Even the boys laughed at me when they saw my face. They said I looked like some kid who just got their first baseball card.  Does that sound too childish? If it does, then well, that's just another part to love about me then! I'm not forcing you to love that though, it's just maybe you can learn to love it. Hey if you don't really like comics, that's ok. I don't adore you any less than I do now.  The Captain America comic was super cool though. It showed Captain America beating some soldiers down with his shield! He was saving people too. I wanna be as cool as him. Hell, I'm trying to be as cool as him! Being a hero is definitely in style right now, and right now babe I'm going to try and be that kind of hero you can look up to!  I told Ma and Pa about the comic book thing already in their letter. I bet they'll even mention how they imagine my expression. They're probably going to compare it to the time they gave me this super limited edition baseball card for my birthday.  Once I come home, I'm going to try and see if I can find the exact same Captain America comic and probably save it with my comic book collection back at home. Hey, can I ask a favor babe? I know you're at home right now and I don't know if you like comics or not, but if you can, can you start collecting Captain America comics for me? I can't grow my collection if I'm not there. I'll try and make it up to you I swear! With a lot of hugs and kisses and money too, if you want. Thank you in advance! Continue to take care of yourself out there, babe. From your superheroic and super cool boyfriend, A. F. J.

(Y/n) kept an amused smile on her face as she read the letter. Her brain's gears turn, processing everything he said. He was a comic book nerd and even called himself childish for it. Oh if he were to live in this era right now, he would probably blend in with people who collect manga and the rest of the comic book lovers. He definitely is starting to sound like he could fit in with society right now. 

Other than the idea of Jones living in this time, another thought appeared. There were so many things that Jones didn't know about his girlfriend. He doesn't know if she liked pets, sports, or comics. Shouldn't they have talked about their mutual interests before they started dating? 

Maybe their relationship was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, where Jones told his girlfriend that he was going to war. In turn, they would start dating for a short period of time before he was sent off. 

Oh, the thought was horrible. Being together and then immediately getting pulled apart. The woman has to wonder though, did the girlfriend really love Jones as much as he loved her? He hasn't said that he loved her just yet. Maybe they weren't really in love.

(Y/n)'s lips arched into a frown. Everything her mind just proceeded. It was all terrible. The poor soldier.

She shook off her thoughts and sighed. She knew if she thought about it more, her mood might drop. She mumbled softly to herself as she stood up and tucked the opened letter in the drawer. She looked at it and hummed. 

"Jones," she whispered to herself, "whoever your baby was, I'm sure she loved everything you mentioned." It was words of assurance to someone she doesn't even know. Someone she knew was dead. It helped her, though, as she was found softly smiling again. (Y/n) drifted away from her room for the rest of the day, her mind still stuck on the faceless soldier.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 02: " Charmed by your words " ✎▫✧⭒…

(Y/n)'s eyes sprung open as she heard her alarm go off of the morning. She's been given the early morning shift for the day, so she just had to wake up earlier than she's used to. She grumbled words to herself as she reached for her phone, immediately pressing on the button that stopped that annoying ring. Her arm hung limb at the edge of her bed, her face now pressed against her sheets. 

She didn't want to go...but did she really have a choice? No, unfortunately not.

Gathering up her strength, she pushed herself up with her single hand. It was enough to bring her other arm back to the mattress. With both arms, she could fully support herself, letting her sit up. Her eyes stare out the window. The sun hasn't appeared in the sky yet. Even the bright yellow star doesn't want to wake up yet. 

(Y/n) pushed herself off of the bed, her feet first. She slipped on her slippers, not wanting to feel the cold on her bare skin, and decided to head straight to the bathroom. A fresh wash should wake her up. Just not with cold water, though.

Gently she splashed her face, her eyes immediately looking to the mirror. All of her imperfections...they stood out today didn't they? She wouldn't do anything about them though. She couldn't care less about her appearance today. She wasn't in the mood for light makeup today. The woman applied a cleanser and a moisturizer, but that's all that her face is going to get this morning. 

(Y/n) entered her bedroom again and looked at the bottom of her bed. She grabbed the box of letters, opened it, and picked the letter that sat atop the rest. She ripped open the envelope, careful of the letter inside. She pulled out the piece of paper that was tucked inside, her eyes scanning the words on it.

Good morning Babe! Well, honestly I don't know if it's morning there or not, but it is for me! Goodness, did I ever tell you how bad breakfast is? It's super bad. I know the chefs are trying their best right now, but honestly, the tastiest thing I've had is a cracker and jam, and a bit of peanut butter in there too. Other than that, the rest are just...plain horrible. I can't believe this is what they're giving their soldiers! I could go for a burger right now actually, make that a cheeseburger too. Maybe some fries. Add some soda in there too and it'll feel like I'm in a diner again! How are your meals over there by the way? I hope they're way better than what I'm having right now. Well not right now, but you get what I mean. I hope you guys are getting food over there. I don't know the state of the country right now. All I know is that people are working their asses off over there. Hey, if you don't get a proper meal today, you gotta tell me! I would love to sneak some food to you, that is if they allow me to send crackers and a packet of jam to you. Sorry, babe! That's all I can really give you.  Anyway, I hope things are genuinely better over there. Have you gotten any better at sewing since my last letter? I hope so! I would love to sew patches together. Granted, I'm not really good at sewing at the moment, but I'm trying! I'm just learning so we could do something together when I'm back home. Wait! I don't think I actually told you, but I sort of did pick up sewing here too! It's a hidden hobby. Don't tell the boys okay? Not that you could actually tell them anyway, but it'll be our secret!  I'm actually running out of paper and I don't know how much paper they have left. They're trying to ration paper too, for some reason. I guess everything counts right now. I don't know when my next letter will be but rest assured babe, I will try to get you a letter as soon as possible. Take care of yourself okay? Sincerely, by your amazing future husband A. F. J

(Y/n) smiled and giggled. She found his rambles to be akin to a child writing their thoughts on paper. He doesn't seem to like talking to his friends about his problems. Writing letters to his beloved might as well have been an outlet to ramble or vent about anything and everything. The woman wondered if he had done the same with his parents' letters. He did mention before, a few letters ago, that he does write letters to his parents. 

There was no way of telling though. She doesn't have those letters that were sent to his parents. 

The young lady placed the recently opened letter inside a drawer that had the other opened letters. She then left the bed, feeling slightly happy and energized. She headed to her closest to grab today's clothes, changed into them, and eventually walked out of the bedroom to continue her day.

Opening the letters became a routine for (Y/n) for the following days. Every morning she would read letters from the young man named Jones and be charmed by his charismatic and energetic writing. He was definitely a young man who had nothing better to do aside from writing, sewing, and going to war with other soldiers. 

As (Y/n) read a few more of his letters within the following days, she felt pity for him. He seemed so young. He was straight out of college, had an entire life ahead of him, but that was probably cut short due to the war. She knew how traumatic things were there, and sometimes, whenever she reads the letters, she looks for signs of trauma. 

She wasn't sure if it was evident in writing, but there is a possibility that there might be. He probably couldn't talk about heavy things due to censorship. 

Within a morning before the weekend, (Y/n) opened another letter from him. This was her tenth letter from him. All the past letters have been him talking about the weather and such. It was all small chatter, and it was obvious that he was only writing these to pass the time or work on his writing skills. Not that it could be a big advantage for soldiers, but hey, what were they to do in the field? There was nothing fruitful in them anyway.

The woman gently opened the envelope, cautious of the paper inside. She plucked the letter like the rest.

Good afternoon babe! We were off duty today and do you know what we saw while we were out and about? A dog! Can you believe it? We saw a dog! It's such a weird thing to see, honestly. Amongst the fighting, it's so hard for animals to get by you know? The boys and I were so happy seeing that puppy running and looking happy. He was wagging his tail left and right. He was happy to see us too!  Hey, did you want to get a dog when I come back from the war? Wouldn't it be great? If you didn't want kids and stuff, we could maybe just have a dog you know? Have our own little babies that way. Hey, if you don't want a dog, we can also go for a cat! Granted, I may not be too fond of cats, but really, I care about what you like and the things you care about. We could get either animal as a pet, but god forbid you to bring a snake to our future home.  I have honestly come to hate snakes. God, did I tell you how I used to like them when I was younger? They were so cool back then! But then, I saw one and I got bit by one. It was hidden in the bushes for so long that I didn't even see them there as a kid. Luckily, it wasn't a super bad poisonous one, but I still feel very lucky to have lived that day you know?  It'll be such a blessing if I lived today and tomorrow too. And I'll be in heaven if I live long enough to see your face again.  I miss you. That's the bottom line of things. I'm running out of paper again, so I don't have anything else to say. Just know that we'll be getting pets when I come home! Sincerely your awesome, cool future husband, A. F. J

(Y/n) had a smile on her face again. That was a new thing she learned about him. He doesn't like snakes huh? She couldn't help but laugh at the thought of some military man not liking a snake. He does have a valid reason to fear them, so she couldn't blame him. She tucked the opened letter in the drawer and continue the rest of the day. Although, this day seemed different than the last. 

She had Jones in her thoughts.

It appears that the small talk and letters have given a small effect on (Y/n). It was so strange. It was only the tenth day of opening those letters. She couldn't help but try to imagine what he looked like. Throughout the morning, the woman did just that.

She wondered what his facial features were like. She knew that soldiers back then, especially World War soldiers, have got to have that strong physique. After all that training and exercise, he's bound to have some weight to him. He sounds like he's got a great smile. How about eyes? Nose? Ears, lips? She's got nothing. So many things appeared in her face as she was constructing the soldier's face.

A frown appeared on her face as she poured in her favorite drink for the morning. The faces she made in her mind constantly changes. She disliked the fact that she could not settle for an image for the soldier. A sigh leaves her mouth as she sat down in the dining room by herself. Her hand swirled the top of her cup as she thought about him.

Her stomach twisted with disappointment. She was upset that she doesn't know more about the man. Slowly, she was learning more, but all she's got was that he dislikes snakes, likes fast food, sewing, writing, and talking with his friends. She wanted more. She craved more, but she limited herself. It was all patience, really.

If she read all the letters in one day, there would be no reward in the end. Patience was rewarded sometimes, but she wondered if she will ever get a reward for restricting herself.

She hoped there was.

(Y/n) mumbled words to herself as she got up with her cup. She returned to her bedroom, her hand opening the drawer that had the opened letters. She stared at them, her eyebrows furrowing. 

"Who was your baby, Jones," (Y/n) mumbled, "Did she live here before?"

Her lips arched to a pout as she placed the letters back down. She heard from her realtor on the first day that there were people with the last name of Jones who used to live here or at least owned the property. Her mind churned its gears, trying to piece things together. Her lips open a bit as a lightbulb lit in her mind. 

Did Jones' sweetheart use to live here in the house? Was...was this Jones' old house maybe? 

She had another thought in her mind. What if his girlfriend had returned the letters to the family, and the family had stashed them away? What if his girlfriend was too heartbroken with the thought of leaving that she never opened these letters? The letters were still sealed. Perhaps she just straight out refused to open them.

(Y/n) refused to think it was like that. She would like to think that it was the former, where Jones' girlfriend used to live with him in this property. Still, that doesn't really answer the question as to why the letters never had a name on them. They were just sent to this address. They were suspicious to her, really, but it's something that she could never really piece together unless she read the letters. 

The woman was stumped, really, but determined on getting to know Jones and hopefully, somewhere in these letters, she'll get something out of it. Perhaps she'll get his full name somewhere here. The soldier was very cryptic with identification. He probably only wrote it like that to avoid getting punished for talking about bad stuff during his time there. 

Then again, he rarely talked about the bad stuff anyway.

"So why hide your name?" (Y/n) asked herself. "You're...fucking weird, Jones."

A ring of her phone caught the woman's attention. Pulling her eyes away from the floor, she looked at the cellphone beside her. The caller ID read "boss." The woman groaned, sighed, and picked up the call. She had a short talk with her boss, and soon after they hung up, the woman was off to change into her work clothes. It was her day off today, but they called her in to come to work today. 

They were understaffed...and she was always employed to fill in spots. It was always like that. She couldn't turn it down though since it paid good money. She would love to have the extra money in her pocket. (Y/n) locked the doors of her home and headed out to work.

(Y/n) flashed her badge that would let her inside the workplace and immediately got to her spot. She was met with smiles and grins from fellow co-workers, some even greeting her a good morning. She greeted them back. They were friendly to her, so of course, she has got to be friendly with them too.  

Throughout the entire first half of work, the woman was thinking about Jones and how she basically doesn't know anything about him at all. All she knew were trivial things. It never really showed enough about his character. (Y/n) kept quiet as she was occupied by her thoughts. Nobody bothered her until lunchtime, where a work friend had approached her table and sat beside her.

"Hey!" (Y/n)'s coworker, Felicia, grinned, "You were super quiet today you know? Something in your mind?"

The woman's (e/c) colored eyes looked to the brunette's light brown eyes. She displayed a smile on her face before she took a bite off of her meal for lunch today. 

"I'm okay, Felicia," (Y/n) replied, "I just have something on my mind, that's all."

"What is it though? You've never really been this quiet!" Felicia frowned, "Are you still getting used to your house?"

"I'm already used to things there," (Y/n) mumbled, "There's just something personal that's been bugging me."

The Italian in front of (Y/n) arched a brown but nodded anyway. The woman was clearly curious as to what her friend had been thinking about but never pried for information. Felicia knew better than to make her friend feel uncomfortable. 

"Hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, you know the gal you can turn to!" Felicia smiled as she brought out her lunch

"Of course." 

(Y/n) and Felicia enjoyed their lunch together, talking like they usually would. The two ladies got back to their shift after eating. (Y/n) was quiet once more, but this time, she wasn't as troubled by the thought of figuring Jones out. After that talk with Felicia, her thoughts have been focused on other things, like work and perhaps getting to talk to her friend again. The woman sort of helped out, in a way that (Y/n) never thought she could.

She was the key to having her stop thinking about that soldier during her work.

Perhaps she should treat the woman out to lunch on the weekend. Of course, (Y/n) wouldn't say the reason as to why she did so, but she just wanted to show appreciation for her friend. 

At the end of the day, (Y/n) bid a short goodbye to her coworkers before driving back to her home. She unlocked her doors and upon entering, she felt a small cold breeze. She shivered as she entered her home. She didn't find it odd, honestly. She knew that old houses are generally colder sometimes. It's something about their layout...or something like that. 

She wasn't a housing expert after all, but that's the only way she could explain that sudden cold breeze. 

The woman made dinner for herself and did her nightly routine after eating. Later in the night, she finds herself in bed staring at the ceiling, her mind filled with thoughts. Music played in the background, filling up the silence that surrounded her.

Her mind never ceases to run out of things to think about. Most of them were about Jones, about piecing his face together, but she could never be satisfied with whatever her mind made up.

She would have to wait until she's gotten something from his letters.

(Y/n) softly sighed to herself as she reached for her lamp. She turned off the last source of light in her room and proceeded to go on her phone, where she would browse until she felt her body growing limp. Slowly her eyes fluttered shut, and her consciousness was soon taken from her. 

It was just her in her room that night, with the moon watching over her.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 01: " Hi Babe! " ✎▫✧⭒…

It was (Y/n)'s third day in her new home, and thankfully it was a bright Sunday morning. The woman has work tomorrow, and she couldn't help but feel horrible at the thought of it. She only had two days to rest? Ugh. She learned this back in college, but honestly, it felt so much worse when people are out of college and are immediately hit with adult responsibilities. 

(Y/n) was just scrolling through her phone, sipping a warm beverage, with the tv talking in the background. Everything was peaceful until she was interrupted by a telephone ring. It was her realtor. He probably has some information about the Jones person she had called him about. 

"Hello?" (Y/n) spoke.

"Hey, so, in my records, there has been one family with the last name of Jones during the early twentieth century. The property was under a family name actually, but no one was actually using the home until the family had sold it off. After that, it's kind of hard to look for the Jones family, since they're probably living in another home. They're not really under my business line so I can't just go into the records for them," the realtor spoke.

"So there's no way to contact the family?" (Y/n) asked. The realtor gave her a simple no. The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated that there was no way to give the family their letters back. She sighed quietly to herself, mumbling a soft thank you to the man over the phone. She hung up after that. 

The young woman walked to her bedroom where the box of letters was. She supposed that there's no harm in opening the letters then. They were no names on them, other than scribbles, so she guessed that she could open them. 

(Y/n) gently pulled the lid off from the seal, damaging it just a bit. There was no other choice...the seal was in the way. The envelopes probably have no use anyway. It's the letter that has value. She picked out the letter and placed its torn casing on the bed. The letter was written in cursive, but it's nothing that (Y/n) couldn't decipher. 

Hi babe!  This is one of the first letters I'm writing back home! Yeah yeah, I actually wrote some back to Mom and Dad, but hey! Aren't you glad that you're getting one too? Anyway, how have you been? How are your hobbies going? I heard from my folks that you've picked up sewing. It's a neat skill to learn. I'm proud of you! I hope you're doing well over there. I hope you're thinking about how I'm doing. Honestly, ever since I've been deployed here, it's kind of boring. Well, Aside from me bonding with my friends and writing a ton of letters, there's nothing else we could do unless we're put into battle and things like that. There's the radio, sure, but all it's been playing are the same tunes. Always Bob Crosby and The Bob Cats. I wonder if we can actually get some variety here. Well, I guess if you start thinking about the generals' yells as a form of song, then that's some variety. I suppose I did pick up a new hobby, which is writing. I haven't written this much since college, actually. I hope in the future, I'll start writing poems to you. I'll probably learn them from Charles or something. You know how he is. He's super romantic and all. I'm a bit jealous that he could write good love letters to his beloved.  Maybe I'll start doing that too! Just stay tuned for the next one okay? My battalion hasn't been given a task yet, so, Charles, Alex, James, and I are waiting to be given something. I guess while we wait, all I can do is think about you and the songs that play on the radio. I'll even think about my ma and pa too! Don't think I don't do that already! You're just in my mind all the time, that's all.  I will write as much as I can to you. I hope you're actually getting these letters.   From your super awesome and super handsome future husband, A. F. J

(Y/n) stared at the letter in her hand. Goodness...this sounded personal. The letters she had in the box were...filled letters sent to someone special. If that was the first letter, it's got to be like that for the rest right? The woman reread the words again. Yeah...this was for Jones' girlfriend. He never wrote a name in there though and there was no name in the envelope. Just who was this guy's girl?

The woman sat there on her bed, a frown appearing on her lips. She folded the paper to its original shape and placed it back in its envelope. She reached for another letter in the box but hesitated to open it up. What if there were more personal things in these letters? Oh goodness. She was prying into someone's personal life.

Well, she already knew that she was doing that, but, honestly, it felt worse knowing that the letters are laid out like this. They were for this person's girlfriend at the time. She wasn't that...she wasn't his girlfriend at all. The desire to open them all was strong though, but (Y/n) had to do this once at a time. She had already opened a letter today, she'll just have to continue it tomorrow and read it then.

(Y/n) placed the opened letter in a drawer next to her bed. Her eyes looked back at the box again. Perhaps she should see how long it would take to read all of the letters. Gently, one by one, she counted all the letters she had at her disposal. She had excluded the letter she had read today. 

"Three-hundred-and-sixty-five," the woman told herself. That was enough to read one letter a day for a year. 

"Huh," (Y/n) sighed. Looks like she would be reading these for an entire year. She wondered how things would go. She placed the unopened letters back in their container and stashed the box under her bed. She had to be patient, or there would be no reward to this. She could last a year of just reading those letters. If she didn't know who this Private Jones was, and there was no means to contact his known living family, she might as well get to know him. 

These letters seem to be dated for World War Two. The man might just be dead now, really. 

The woman pitied the dead who had no one to remember them. Maybe Jones had someone who remembers him, but she would never know. For now, she should assume that there wasn't anyone who had him in their thoughts. (Y/n) figured that maybe, just maybe, she could be the one that remembers this poor soldier.

(Y/n) sighed as she walked away from her bedroom. Perhaps she should roam around today, maybe get to know the town a little more. Does the library have something that has this man's name on it? Perhaps she could find some sort of yearbook from the old times if they ever had those back then. Maybe even college photos that had him in there.

She wasn't desperate to find anyone who might know this man yet. There was actually a small part of her, that selfish part of her, that asked her to keep this man a secret. To keep him all to herself. That wasn't right, though, was it? It's always a question of morality with (Y/n). 

Her lips twitched to a smile as she dismissed her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking about the man right now. If she did, she might get pressured to actually do work, when she was supposed to rest today. A sigh leaves her mouth as she walks to her living room. She pressed the power button on her tv remote and watched whatever she found interesting in her favorite streaming service. 

The day would go on like this, with the woman lazying around in her own home. The house was silent for the most part, with no creeks or noises within the walls. The house wasn't haunted, as far as she knew. She knew that opening that box of letters wouldn't really bring ghosts to her home. 

They didn't exist, of course, they would never appear. 

The woman cooked dinner for herself that night. With nothing distracting her, the letters occupied her mind. 

"Jones...Jones," (Y/n) mumbled to herself, "Just...who the hell are you? Can I even find you anywhere?" The woman was hoping that she wasn't dealing with a John Doe. It would be hard to find someone like that, especially during the war. There are a lot of John Does in the war, especially those who have already lost their dog tags and have no means to identify them. 

She wishes that this man at least has a gravestone somewhere in this place. 

(Y/n) walked to her bedroom once more, her body immediately going to her bed. She peeked underneath, her eyes staring at the box. She wants to pry another one open, but ultimately decided against it. She fell on her mattress, her gaze now at the ceiling. There was nothing she could do right now. Tomorrow was her workday...maybe she should just sleep.

Her consciousness would stay with her for a few more moments until darkness surrounded her. The moon would stay active for a while until it eventually fell into its own slumber. The day brought light into the world, indicating a new day.

That new day would be (Y/n)'s workday. The woman edged out of her bed, wandering to the bathroom to get herself ready. Once changed into proper working attire, she went back to her room to get shoes. She had hidden her shoes under the bed, right beside the box of letters. As she looked for a pair to wear today, her eyes went to the box. 

Maybe she could read a letter today and see what Jones had to say. 

She put on her shoes before picking a letter from the box. The envelope was the same color as before. It either must have been made either the same week or the same month as the first letter she read. Gently she ripped the seal and pulled out the letter. 

Hi Babe, I hope you're doing well over there, wherever you may be right now. You might be at home, actually, since you're reading this letter. Anyway! I just wanted to say that finally, after a week of sitting around in a base, we're told to do something. Honestly, I hope this war isn't going to be that bad. I mean, since you know, America is here and all, I hope things are going to go well for us. I don't want to suddenly die on you, you know? We have so much planned! Did you know that earlier this morning, Charles caught me writing a letter to you today? Well, he caught me writing this letter to you, actually. I know he's a nosy bastard, but I didn't think he would actually read some of the words here. He asked me earlier if I actually had a sweetheart, since, you know, the last time he talked to me, he didn't see me with you. I guess I kept our relationship a secret huh? I must be that good!  How is your sewing going by the way? I hope it's going well. You must be very busy over there. Once I get back there in the States, we can start a family. You can maybe sew things together for the kids and I can probably provide enough to feed us all three meals! Of course, if you wanted to help too, you could! I know you're a strong woman and I don't want to limit what you can do. I think helping out in the war would give us some funds you know? Besides! I can put my college degree to good use! Once this all blows over, I can probably help you.  For now, since I'm away, I'll just be sending you letters, as much as I can! There's not enough paper to go around for everyone, so I can't really write to you all the time. Hopefully, I'll send enough letters to give you news. From your heroic future husband, A.F.J

(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh at his mannerism in the letter. He seems young, honestly, and had the innocence too, somewhere in there. He doesn't know the hardships of war just yet. There are a few things she knows about him. He spilled more info in this second letter than the first one she said. He's a young man who had a college degree somewhere. He talked about plans with his babe, and he appears to be a family man. Jones was a hopeful man, eager to meet his sweetheart again.

She smiled to herself as she placed the letter back in its home, tucking the opened envelope on top of the one she read last night. (Y/n) placed the box under her bed and went on with her day. After breakfast, the woman heads for work. Throughout the day, she thought about Jones and how she would have loved to befriend him if he were ever alive in her era. 

She can't wait to read more letters from him.

[tahanann]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

❝ To whoever finds these letters, I hope they reach you well ❞ ✎▫✧⭒....

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: F/M Pairing: Alfred F. Jones (America) / (Female) Reader Chapter list: 00, 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Also posted on: AO3, Wattpad, Quotev

Chapter 00: " Letter from lost days " ✎▫✧⭒…

A soft sigh leaves the mouth of a woman as she gently places down boxes on the floor. She wipes the sweat that dripped down her forehead as she decided to get a few more boxes before settling down. There were enough boxes in the living room, so she should probably unpack soon. (Y/n) smiled at the sight of everything. This was the fruit of her labors. This...was her new home, and despite how empty it seems right now, it'll eventually be cozy enough for her and guests.

The woman walked out the front door to stare at the front view of her home. It was an aged home with walls painted a creme color, a dark grey, and flowers decorating the front lawn. It was supposedly built in the early twentieth century, and apparently, everything is still moving and working in there. Of course, (Y/n) made sure the realtors did their job, making sure plumbing and heating systems were working and up to date.

It wasn't easy finding a house that was this affordable. (Y/n) had to scour all the listings to find a home that was in a suburban area, but was still close enough to metropolitan places. Homes that were this old were cheaper in the housing market, but honestly, how cheap can a house get in this day and age"? It was the twenty-first century, houses are a complete hassle to pay. The woman had to save up money from her profession to get enough to pay the downpayment. 

Her parents pitched in somewhere in there, but they only paid about ten percent. Ninety percent of it was with her own money, and it took a few months, reaching up to a year, of saving up to get enough.

(Y/n) went towards the trailer, grabbed the smaller boxes, and finally closed it as soon as the task was done.  The woman found herself walking up to the couch that was already brought to her home prior to her getting here. Her father helped her move in a day ago. He isn't here today because there were no more heavy things to carry. She didn't need his help for her last day of moving in.

She's got to give the old man some slack, anyway.

Her (e/c) eyes looked up at the ceiling above her. She takes in a few breaths to relax her body. She wanted to relax for a few more moments before she starts decorating the place with everything that's in the boxes. Shutting her eyes, (Y/n) manages to get a power nap in.

She starts daydreaming as she took in the darkness, but her eyelids immediately open once she heard a ping come from her phone. Groaning softly, she reached for the phone in her pocket before texting the person back. It was her boss, already eager to have her back to work. 

The woman had requested a few days off so that she could get settled into her new home, but it appears that her boss wanted her back. Well...there was nothing she could do about it. The woman was as busy as she could get.  

In the reply, (Y/n) wrote that she would be back as soon as Monday. Thankfully, her final day of moving in was a Friday, so she had the weekends to herself. 

A tired sigh comes from her mouth as she pinched the bridge of her nose. (Y/n) stands up from the couch and started opening boxes with a box cutter she had placed on the table beside the couch. It took her a few hours to get the trinkets and decorations out of their boxes and in their own respective spots.

She made dinner for herself that evening, cleaning dishes afterward, before walking to the bedroom. There were boxes in here too. Her bed already had its covers, and she had already placed clutter items to liven the space. All she had to do was put her clothes away in this wardrobe the old owners left behind. There were other items that the past homeowners left behind, like an old record player, a bench in the backyard garden. 

(Y/n) grabbed her phone to play music. It fills up the silence. She then opened the wooden doors of the closet and immediately started hanging her clothes. One of the hangers slipped out of her grasp and fell to the bottom of the closet. As she went to pick it up, she found a curious cutout. It was shaped like a square. It looked like you could probably pry the lid off. 

"Weird," (Y/n) told herself. She shrugged her shoulders and continued her task. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling that urged her to pull out the lid. The further she ignored it, the more irritated she grew with herself. (Y/n) had set a task for herself and she needed to finish it, whether her mind liked it or not. Eventually, after hanging the clothes and putting folded ones in a drawer, she made her way downstairs to grab a screwdriver. 

"It better be worth it," the woman spoke. She walked back to her room and knelt in front of the open closet. She placed the tip of the tool at the edge of the lid, prying it open. There was a bit of weight to it, but it was nothing that she struggled with.

Underneath the cover, there hid a small box. (Y/n) arched a brow as she picked it up and placed it down on her floor. She gently dusted the lid, blowing on it too. 

(Y/n) thought about what the box may have inside. Perhaps it was jewelry that the past family left behind. Perhaps the box was cursed and the previous families have been told never to open it. If it was the latter, shouldn't the previous owners have told her about it? It couldn't be the second one through the process of elimination. 

The woman gently pressed against the lid, trying to open it. It wouldn't budge, causing her to frown. The keys should be around here somewhere, shouldn't it? Should she even look for it? What if it was the last owner's things? They should have called about it by now right? 

(Y/n) sat in her place, deep in thought. She tackled the problem that came with the box. It was a moral situation, really. She didn't know if it was right to open the box. Her curious nature desired to pry it open, but the more logical side of her wanted to contact the realtor or the old family about the place. 

There sat a frown on her (s/c) face as she looked at the brown box before her. She picked it up again and studied the intricate designs on the side of it. It appears the box was well taken care of. Although dusty, there were no signs of rot or damage. There were floral patterns that were incised at its side. At the center of the box sat a lock that kept the lid and its body together.

"There's gotta be a key somewhere," (Y/n) mumbled. Placing the wooden container back down, she walked to her bed to grab her phone. The compartment at the bottom of the closet was dark. It was really hollow in there. It was almost hard to see anything in there. The wooden box almost blended in perfectly. She just had to use her phone as a flashlight.

Once she was kneeling on the floor again, the young woman shone a flashlight through the hole. There, amongst the dust that covered the hollow space, sat a key. It was rather tiny, but it sat there. Unlike the box, it did not retain its old color. Among the dark grey paint were rusted browns. (Y/n) wasn't going to pick that thing up with her bare hands, settling to use a pair of gloves from the kitchen to pick it up.

She studied the key in her hand. She was hesitant to actually move it around much, fearing that one wrong move could potentially ruin her chances of opening the box that sat on her floor. Gently, (Y/n) placed the key down on her bedside table and walked back to the closet to grab the box. Her (e/c) eyes stare at it, her fingers tracing the incisions at its side. 

"What's inside you," (Y/n) spoke. She placed it down on her bedside table, beside the key, and grabbed her phone. She should probably call her realtor or the last family about it. Maybe they know something about it. For now, (Y/n) decided that maybe she should start heading to bed. She was exhausted from putting boxes in and decorating the place. She deserves the rest. 

(Y/n) did her nightly routine and slipped into pajamas. She scrolled through her phone for the remainder of the night before she ultimately fell asleep. 

The sun would soon retake the sky, bringing light into the dark world. (Y/n) slept through the sunrise and found herself waking up around noon. She must have been too tired to wake up in the mornings. (Y/n) grumbled words to herself as she exited bed and got her day started. She ate breakfast, bathed, and eventually rang up her realtor. 

"Hey," (Y/n) smiled as she talked to the phone, "So I found this weird box in the closet the last family left at the house, do you think that it's theirs?"

The realtor over the phone said that the family hasn't reported about a forgotten box, but he has heard some comments about a box from the same family. It appeared to be the same case with (Y/n), where the parents found the box, but they weren't curious enough to actually try and open it. They had just left it back in its compartment. They had already tried to contact the family before them, but they were also the same.

No one has ever tried to open the box at all? The response from him made the woman smile wider. Maybe she should be the first one to open it. She didn't want to follow their line of negligence. Her curiosity was eating her up. She just had to at this point. 

"Do you think that maybe I could open it or something?" (Y/n) asked. 

"Sure you can. As long as you have the key and stuff. The previous families have reported the box never having a key."

"But there is one," the woman responded, "It was sitting right next to the box, actually."

"That's weird," the realtor replied, "Well since there's no one taking that box, you might as well open it."

(Y/n) expressed her gratitude with a grin as she hung up the call. With confirmation that she could do anything with the box, she could open it. The woman ran to her room, giddy felt in her chest. She grabbed the key with gloved hands and inserted it in the lock. Once turned, the lid opened. 

(E/c) eyes were filled with curiosity as they glanced at the contents of the small box. They were letters, a whole lot of them. One could probably read one a day and it'll last a year. Its edges are worn from age, and the paper that formed the envelopes was fading in color. They were predominantly white colors, but there were letters that had a soft blue. They were never opened as the seals retained their wax. 

They were strange, actually. They look like the typical old letters, but they weren't sent to a specific person. Just a location, unfortunately. It was the same address as her home. There looked to be scribbles that could make out a name, but (Y/n) wasn't able to decipher it. The sender was a certain Private A. Jones and the letters came from a single post office stationed in Europe. 

"Jones?" (Y/n) mumbled. Was there a family that lived her by the name of Jones? The woman thought about it but decided not to look further into it. Perhaps it was a private family that never had a history in this city. She had planned on looking it up somewhere, but that was technically against privacy rules. There's probably no way for her to look for some family with the last name Jones. 

The woman shrugged as she grabbed one letter from the box. She looked all over the envelope, trying to find something that'll give her a sign as to who this Private Jones was. A sigh leaves her. She doesn't find anything. She suspects that if she opens all of these letters, which, there were a ton of letters, she'll never find something about this man. 

She stared at the letter in her hand and felt something in her stomach. She was nervous about opening it. What if...she was prying into someone's personal life? Well...regardless, they might already be dead, but there might be people who are related to this Private Jones and are looking for signs of him. (Y/n) feels guilty over the thought of snooping through someone's personal affairs.

But the curiosity was eating her up. She just had to.

No. No, she had to resist.

(Y/n) rung up her realtor again. She heard the man's concerned tone. He already knew it was about the box.

"Do you know if anyone lived in the home with the last name of Jones?" (Y/n) asked. She listened to the man's tone of voice. 

"I could look into it, but it'll probably take a day for me to actually get records like that," the realtor mumbled over the phone.

"It'll be a treat," (Y/n) smiled, "I could possibly send the box to its rightful owners." 

The woman talked with the man for a while until he eventually hung up. (Y/n) was stuck with the box of the letters until she hears from him again. Her hands gently pick up one of the envelopes, her hands gliding across the worn paper. 

"Jones," (Y/n) whispered, "I'll give you back to your relatives."