literature

PrussiaxReader: PMS

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Literature Text

*A little warning: Swear words used!*

You sat in the benches in the school gardens under the shade of a big tree, doodling, drawing or writing in your notebook. You were dismissed early, but you kind of liked to hang out somewhere quiet before you went home. It was nicer without the sounds of people you momentarily called hell.

Soon, the final bell rang, and everyone left the school halls in noisy banter. You sighed in irritation.

And then, before anyone could even bother to think it—

Zhe awesomeness has arrived!” someone yelled, disrupting the serenity entirely.

As the boy hiss-laughed you scrunched up your eyes, gripping your pen.

The man was an arrogant ass, so egotistical he could probably fill the cold moon’s atmosphere with the heat from all his boasting. And he was all he could think about. He had moonlight-silver hair, pale skin and blood red eyes, something you’ve never seen in your town. He had two other friends whom he always walked around with: Francis and Antonio: a blonde and blue-eyed Frenchman and a green-eyed brunette, and a rapist and a pedophile, respectively.

You had only one and only one class per week with each of those two, but the albino you saw in at least three classes a day, and not to mention he was always where you were at lunch. He would constantly pull jokes and pranks on you, try pulling off pick-up lines on you, and not to mention flirt with other girls. On regular days you’d shrug it off, but not today.

Today, you had PMS. And it was much, much worse than last month.

You were in such a hate-mood that you were even bitchier to the other, even bitchier girls at your school. You were only lucky that Elizaveta and Bella were there for you; else it would have been a full-blown fight.

Oh, did this awesome narrator mention that your boyfriend just cheated last night? You’d found a few of several hickies on his neck, not to mention the lustful look in his eyes. You’d slapped and yelled at him in the hall, and Elizaveta and Bella just had to save you from the teachers.

“Kese,” someone hissed in your ear. “Hey zhere, frau.”

“Go away, Gilbert,” you murmured slowly. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t piss yourself off over nothing.

He leaned closer with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Come on, frau, you know you like me~”

It was too much, and you snapped.

What does it take for me to tell you to leave me alone, you bastard?” you hissed in his face as you gripped his shirt. “What in heaven, earth and hell will it take for me to tell you that I don’t want to be bothered, that I don’t want your company, that I don’t want your nose in my quiet business?” Tears streamed down your face; memories had flashed momentarily in your vision, and all you could think about next was how he was going to push you off and tell you what an ass, a bitch, and a jerk you were.

You were an idiot.

You were stupid.

You weren’t up to par with his standards.

You released his shirt, sobbing uncontrollably as you sat down again, your face behind your palms and soaking your skin with salted drops of water.

Gilbert only stood there, shocked. You were always such a strong girl; nothing ever got past your strong defenses. Why, all of a sudden, were you looking—acting—so vulnerable? So small? So…pathetic?

But you weren’t pathetic. You had serious problems.

“Fraulein,” he murmured, sitting down with an arm around your shoulders.

“Go away,” you whimpered.

“(y/n)—“

“I said go away, you damn bastard!” you screamed at him. You’d released your face to punch his chest weakly, glaring at him with wet, red eyes.

He sat there, even more stunned. Something must have broke you.

He only pulled you close, and after much yelling and struggling, you simply sobbed into his shirt, shaking uncontrollably with your sobs. He leaned back onto the bark of the tree, whispering softly in your ear, in a language you learned but barely understood.

After some time you quieted down, mind and heart feeling empty, and, mindlessly, you traced little imaginary doodles onto his chest. You were too tired to feel anything, too empty to notice, to broken to be sensitive anymore.

“(y/n)?”

“What?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Slowly, head reeling not just from your crying, you raised your head to see his. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

You frowned, not knowing what to say. THE Gilbert Beilschmidt, THE Mr. Awesome, THE egotistical jerk you’ve been crushing on for the last two years, is saying sorry? And to you, no less!

You had to admit, he was a nice guy to look at, not only because you thought he was  actually handsome, but you thought that he was interesting, too. His love for the cutest puffball, Gilbird; the concern for friends; his slightly-above-average academics; his confidence in himself; his athletic ability…you didn’t even know where to start. You’ve liked the guy since he introduced himself to you as a transfer student from Germany, but when his ego kicked in, you felt so…distanced from the guy. You thought he’d be your friend, given you knew him before Eliza and Bella, but no, he’d gone off to be ‘awesome’. And that was only, what, five months after you met him, after five months of hanging out, after five months of pulling pranks and flirting. And it wasn’t just on other people.

“I’m sorry I’ve been unawesome,” he said slowly, most likely trying not to stutter. “I’m-I’m sorry I left you al-alone…aw, dammit!” he hissed, and just pulled you in for a kiss.

Your first thought was to push him off, and you didn’t waste one second on it.

“What the hell…?” you snarled at him. “What, is this so you can break my heart all over again?”

“N-nein!” he exclaimed a little loudly, panicking. “I just-I just—“

“You just what?” You accentuated every word slowly through your teeth, fists clenched for anything.

“I vanted to say…er…ah…”

“Just spit it out, Gilbert!”

Ich liebe dich!

You stared at him, eyes wide with shock, but just for one moment.

“How can you love someone like me?” you whispered, head down, the tears threatening to show all over again. “How can you love someone as stupid, pathetic, idiotic, innocent?” You lifted your hands to your face again, unable to help yourself.

He took your wrists with just the right pressure, leaning his head close to yours. “Because I can.”

You glanced up at him, and there was nothing but love and concern in his eyes as those blood red orbs stared at you intently.

“(y/n), I don’t know vhat happened to you und your boyfriend—“

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” you cut him off.

“Vhatever. Vhatever happened, I’m sorry. But I don’t want you to be zhis vay.”

“What for? All you think about—“

“I know vhat I talk about!” he snapped, shaking you slightly. “But I don’t vant to be zhat vay anymore. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of ignoring. (y/n),” he paused for effect, “please, please be meine awesome girlfriend. Und please don’t argue vizh me, because I know you vill find some vay out of zhis mess un I know you hate me for leaving you last year und I know you’re not in zhe mood,” he added quickly as you glared at him, mouth open to respond. “But you’re not a dummkopf. You’re not pazhetic. You’re a schöne fraulein zhat I admire, zhat I look up to.”

It was true. You were fun-loving despite your mood swings, and, despite everything else, he was the one who always made you forget how to be in a bad mood in that five months. And he just had to leave because he couldn’t stand feeling happy where you were, happy that you were there, ecstatic when you were. It wasn’t natural, he said to himself all those months ago. But it only turned to hurt and longing as he left.

“Please, please,” he practically begged. “I’m sorry, for all those months ago.”

Inwardly you smiled. You made the awesomeness that was him say sorry! But it extended to your face, and soon you were grinning like a maniac.

“Fr-frau?”

You launched yourself at him, and he hit the bark again with an ‘ouf!’ as you squeaked into his shirt. He smiled and laughed, one that was normal, and you shot right back up and off him.

“Vhat? I laugh zhe ozher way for show!”

You rolled your eyes. Typical Gilbert. But you hugged him anyway, feeling your chest hurt and would explode from the ecstasy.

“Gil?”

“Ja?”

“…I love you too.”

And on that awesome day, you became meine awesome fraulein.


~Piyo~
Alright, so I was feeling kinda low yesterday because of all the memories and unfortunately the same dilemma that Reader-tan has, and this was what became of it. Don't you just hate it if you're just being oversensitive on some days?

Prussia-nii-san (c) :iconhimaruyaplz:
You (c) :iconprussiapointplz:
Story (c) :iconnals-luff:
© 2013 - 2024 Nals-luff
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NikoKarma's avatar
D-danke gilbert...