That's the EARTH! (Country x Reader)

III: Continue (Hitman!America)

C̱̜͈͎̙͉͇̀ͬ̃̊h̼̀͑ͮ̆ͫ̅ͥḁ̜͔̟͎ͥ̐ͩͯ̃̈p̷̙̰̳̽͆t̏̏ͮ̓͊́̚e̜̖̝̝͉̜͖̒͜ṛ̣̩̜͉ ̸̓̔ͧͨ̉̈́̚Ţ̺͌w͖̺̭͍̩̠͕̎͡õ̭̳ͦ͗

Trigger Warning

- - -

You quietly nudged the envelope into his chest, "please take it."

Looking defeated, Alfred held the envelope in his hand before inserting it into his coat's inner pocket, clearing his throat in the process.

He closes his eyes for a minute before opening them again, a dark tone suddenly emerged with his stern expression, "we'll have to settle this matter somewhere else, but before that... what do you have in mind?"

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

---

You covered your face with cold hands as you walked through a busy night market, "I've done it, I can't believe it," you mumbled to yourself, pacing towards a nearby coffee shop.

You breathed in and sighed in relief, this place never failed to temporarily soothe you. The man by the counter immediately beamed at your presence.

"____!" he waved, "I'm glad you came by," he ran around to exit the counter before greeting you again with a hug.

"Feliciano, good evening," you smile, hugging him back. Another man exited the staff room near the counter. It was his older brother, Romano; he looked at you smugly before walking towards Feliciano, who's arms are still wrapped around you, "how are you these days?" Romano asks.

"Good," you reply, faking a smile, 'hopefully' your thoughts continued, "well, except for some days without sleep—other than that, I'm doing good."

"That so?" his dark brows furrowed, "don't think too much, it's going to happen again." With that, Feliciano released you from his embrace and turned to face his older brother now standing behind him, his arms interlocking over his chest.

"What is?" the younger brother asks, tilting his head to the side, "is there something you're not telling me?"

You laughed nervously, momentarily giving Romano a glare before turning your gaze on Feliciano, "there's nothing, really! It's just that your brother here likes to talk about my embarrassing moments whenever I feel down!"

"Interesting...!" Feliciano beamed, "like what?" He then added, tilting his head to the side with a stupid smile on his face.

"I blast Billie Eilish songs and ugly cry in my room," you nod, which was a true occurrence, except that you've had that specific breakdown when you were still in your junior year, "then I go and attempt to do makeup tutorials and ended up failing miserably with Romano leaning on my doorway..." you continued, glancing over to Romano who was staring at you intently.

Meanwhile, Feliciano went silent for quite some time then suddenly clasps his hands together, "Don't be sad, ____!" He smiles, "we're always here for you."

"Yeah, listen to him," Romano huffs, "seriously, talk to us, will you? We're always here to help," despite the harsh tone of his words, a small smile formed on your face.

I genuine one, for once.

"I guess..." you say in a hushed voice, "but maybe not today, I'm pretty... tired," Romano's eyes darkened at that and turned to enter the café's  kitchen. You close your eyes and look down. "Sorry, Feli. I'll tell you next time, about the emotional stuff, okay? Tell your brother that I'm sorry as well..."

"I don't get why he's frustrated but you can always drop by so we can talk about life and stuff, okay?" Feliciano replied with a worried look on his face, "anytime, okay? Anytime."

You nod, "anytime."

- - -

It's been weeks.

He sat cross-legged before you and you had your back turned against him as you lay sprawled across your bed.

"You're getting comfortable," you murmur, trailing the marks on your carpals.

"And you're too comfortable, a deadly hitman is in your apartment, you know~" he replies nonchalantly, you could hear him gulping down on some sort of liquid, then the stench hits you. It was beer.

'Alfred F. Jones', you thought, 'he just invited himself in and I didn't even notice. So this is how people like him carry their work...'

"You know," you blink, still staring blankly at the cuts, "you can kill me now, what's stopping you? You accepted my payment."

You've always followed up on his main purpose for letting him in your living space, yet everytime you mentioned about the mission, he just sits there in silence.

"Still holding it for you, sweetheart," Alfred says, holding up the envelope containing the said payment you had just given him for the alleged assassination. "Safe and sound, don't worry."

You grit your teeth, sitting up on your bed and turning to face him, "why are you hesitating?" You hiss, Alfred remained silent, "I bet you've already killed countless people already, why is it so hard to kill me? Do you want me to pay more? I can dig through all my other accounts, I don't care!"

Your eyes stung and you swallowed your saliva, "just please kill me, any way you want. You can take advantage of my body—"

"Now I need you to stop there—"

"You don't even know me!" You trudged over to him in anger, however, his face never faltered, which annoyed you even more; both of you stared at each other before your eyes suddenly glanced over to his gloved hands, you immediately grabbed them firmly, "here," you let his fingers grasp firmly on your neck, his palm at your throat, "like this, just like this..." You sobbed.

His expression finally changes as his eyes widened, his shock was so evident you felt triumphant for some reason for wiping that stern look on his face just a second ago. "____, let go."

"You can do it," you smile sadly, "I'm so tired, help me out—"

"I'm sorry," he furrowed his brows, eyes gleaming. "I hope you can reconsider—"

You cursed at the top of your lungs, swatting his hands away and glaring daggers at him, "there's nothing to reconsider, I thought we had a deal, don't you just want to get this over with—"

"I've killed fellow hitmen, I've killed corrupt politicians, murderers, child predators, rapists..." he huffs, "I see no reason why I should kill you. You're..." his expression softens, "you're not like those people."

"What does that even mean? Such a picky hitman, aren't you?" You retort, fists balling.

"____, reconsider—"

"Do your worst," you cut him off.

He leaves the room without another word.

The envelope is still with him. He'll have to carry out the mission either way.

- - -