Author's Note: Hey, so here's a Canada x Reader oneshot I wrote. It's from Canada's point of view. He's is a pilot, and he has to go off to war (this is no specific war).

"I can't believe you've got to go" (y/n) whispered to her best friend, her arms wrapped around him. Matthew smiled sadly at her, his arms around her small, delicate frame. Maple, she was so beautiful. "I don't want to go either. But I've got to." Matthew was a pilot, and when armies needed help from the air, the pilots have to go help them. (y/n) huffed. "You could have said no."

"(y/n), I don't have a choice. If I refused, I'd lose my job as a military pilot." She snuggled closer into him. "I know. And I know that flying makes you happy. I'd never stop you from doing it. It's just it's so dangerous."

"Flying's always dangerous."

"More dangerous than normal. You'll have people shooting at you, for God's sake." He didn't want to be reminded. "I don't have an answer to that. But that's part of being in the military." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "I'm gonna miss you, Mattie."

"Same here, (y/n)." She checked the time. "Oh no, I was meant to be back half an hour ago. I'm so sorry Matthew, but I need to go" Matthew nodded. "It's okay, I understand. I guess I'll see you in a month." (y/n) nodded. "Definitely." There were tears running down her cheeks. "Please don't cry, (y/n). I don't want to go knowing when I left you were in tears."

"Well it's because I care about you." She glared at him. It was more than just caring for him, she loved him. But she always struggled to tell him.

"I know." This was it, his chance to tell her how he felt. They'd been best friends for years, and over time what he felt for (y/n) had progressed from a friend to a crush. He was glad it was dark; she couldn't see him blushing. But, dammit, the words were jammed in his throat, he couldn't tell her. Instead he just hugged her, drawing her close to him, taking in the smell of her (f/ fruit) scented hair. He mentally promised to come home, safe. For (y/n), the only person who noticed him, who cared for him. And when he came home, he'd tell her.

-Timeskip-

Smoke. That was not good. From the corner of his eye he could see smoke billowing from one of the wings. That was not good. Warning lights were flashing all around him. Shit. The day had started out fine, he and the rest of the squad had left base with no problems. Their time fighting was almost over, in a couple of days he was going home to (y/n). They were flying over enemy territory, taking photos when they were attacked. It was a surprise ambush. Their attackers were excellent pilots, and they were barely armed. They were trying to split their formation, picking them off one by one.

That was how Matthew's plane had got shot. Two planes were tailing Arthur and Gilbert, two of his fellow pilots and he'd been trying to get them off them. He'd succeeded, but not before getting one of his wings blown off. He just hoped the others had managed to land safely. They'd been reduced from a squad of seven of their camp's best flyers to four. And he had a nasty feeling that number was going to drop even lower. What was worse was the fact that, as the lead pilot, his radio system was connected to the other planes. He'd heard the last words of three of his comrades.

The first plane to go down was Vash, the feisty Swiss. Matthew had heard him, apologising to his daughter Lily that he wasn't coming home to see her school play. Then silence. Then they got Ludwig, the serious, organised German. When they started chasing him, he began swearing in German, but when he realised he was going down, he began to cry. That shook Matthew. He too was apologising; to his wife, an Italian called Daisy. Finally, they'd got Ivan, the terrifying Russian. He went down fighting though, and managed to take two planes down before his tail was blasted off. He began to pray in Russian, and finally he began screaming for his sisters. Matthew knew all of these messages had been recorded on the black boxes, and back at base. They could hear them all. They could hear him screaming, each time a radio went quiet, swearing at the pilots who shot his friends down and the gunfire as he in return, gunned them down. Matthew was going to be damned if he let any more of these bastards kill his comrades.

But now he, Matthew Williams, was facing the same death as these men. There was no time for him to get out, but enough time for a message. He looked at the picture on the dashboard, of (y/n). Then he picked up the radio.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Lieutenant-General Williams. I'm going down. I don't know if any off you can hear me, but if you can, please, I need to get these messages across. Papa, I'm sorry I'm not going to be able to come and celebrate Bastille Day with you this year." The tears were streaming down his face. "Al, bro, please don't forget me. I love you bro, and please feed Kumajiro for me." This was the most difficult message he was about to say, and he managed to keep his voice level, even though it threatened to crack. "And finally, to (y/n), I'm sorry I never got to tell you. I've had all these chances to tell you, but I never did. This is my last chance. I love you (y/n). Not just as a friend. I love you so much, and now I'm never going to see you again. So I want you to know, I've got your picture on my dashboard, and that I'm so so sorry I'm not coming home. I love you."

He put down the radio and picked up (y/n) picture, before carefully putting it in his shirt pocket; then he picked up the radio again. He had another message. This one to his fellow pilots. "Gentlemen," he said slowly, "it's been an honour serving with you." Matthew could hear three panicked voices screaming at him through the radio: Arthur, Gil and Kiku. But there was nothing he could do. He gripped the controls. The engines were failing, and the plane was plummeting. He took one last look out of the window. His whole life flashed before him. But the moments which stood out the most were the ones with (y/n). The ground was rushing towards him. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Blackness.

What did I just write? I'm crying here. So, good, bad? Please review.