Playing Around (China and Immortal! Teen! Reader Interaction)
Warnings: Slight angst, slight fluff.
Anonymous Request: Hello! I'm really interested in the concept of Hetalia characters parenting a Immortal!human!child! or teen reader because of the the scenarios you have written, which made me think of different scenarios, and make me want to write my own fanfiction, I really love it.
So, I hope you could write my request if its okay with you to write Platonic! America, or China with Immortal!teen!reader fanfiction with the prompt of: playing
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As an immortal, China was more than well aware of the effects of such prolonged longevity on the mind. There were centuries when China hadn’t been as active in the lives of others, when he had preferred to stay away from his major cities and decided to wander the countryside; he was a drifter in his own home. Of course, times had to change; China himself had to evolve. He couldn’t remain far away from his people and his neighbors from all over were becoming closely intertwined with their own governments.
It was because of his growing involvement in the daily matters of his government that he had become somewhat aware of you, an immortal teenager. You were far younger than China—as most were—but you were decidedly not a Nation. Nations had a certain quality about them, a gravity that held humans down—a bewitching spell that enthralled and intrigued many. To other Nations, it was apparent at first glance.
To China, you registered as nothing more than one of his many thousands of children who lived in his lands. He noted that you were just a human and eventually left the region on business.
But he kept running into you.
At first, he thought that time was simply a construct that he could never quite grasp. Time was always finicky for Nations. Days could pass, but feel like seconds. Decades were tiny flecks of sand in an unending flow in an hourglass. Centuries were felt a little more closely, but in a way that most humans would think upon in nostalgia for simpler times, of their childhood.
Then, when the time periods began to drastically change and the old ways were slowly forgotten, China knew that you were different. Were you a wayward province that sprung up from the ground? Were you a newfound supernatural presence?
But no, you were just a human with a lifespan that could rival that of smaller countries and regions.
It was astounding.
For a while, China thought about ignoring the issue. You weren’t a threat. Sure, you had years of living to guide you, but you didn’t have the innate experiences of millions flowing through his veins. If he focused hard enough, you were one of the many thoughts lurking at his consciousness, one of the hearts that pumped his blood. Your presence was strongly intertwined in China’s. Most humans lived for less than a century; you were as constant as China’s shadow during a waning afternoon.
But then…
Then, China thought about keeping you close. It was rare for humans to live long, fulfilling lives. Rarer still, however, to come across a human who had many more years of life to experience but was not utilizing it to the best of their potential. Humans were untapped sources of potential; he wanted you to meet yours.
But here was the thing: China knew who and what you were.
You were still blissfully unaware.
Living among humans lent itself to a host of problems. There was, of course, the inevitable realization that China couldn’t live in a village for any longer than a few years because he did not change, not like the way humans could. As time went on, China began to realize that people were making connections with the strange wanderer with centuries in his eyes, but youthfulness in both face and movement. It was harder to remain anonymous, to be nothing more than just a passing Chinese citizen who was at times both an old man yet a contemporary all at the same time.
And the more people realized that China wasn’t just a normal person, they began to tell stories. Stories then went on to evolve into the lifeblood of myths and legends. Some were true (as much as China hated to admit it), but others were either plain lies or ridiculous twists on the truth.
No one could have guessed that Nations could have existed.
Which made it all the more harder for China to locate you.
Well… That was actually a lie. Considering you were heavily ingrained into China’s being, he always had a passing sense of where you were. It was the same sense that he had when encountering strange Nations, but not as strong.
Like a cat targeting a mouse, China made his way to you.
What he hadn’t expected was that you were just as in tune with him. (That was actually wishful thinking in retrospect, but China did not want to admit that you always escaped him).
Back then, you had your suspicions. You weren’t exactly sure when you were born or who your family was, but you were positive that the man who was always lurking at the edge of your periphery, who you had heard about from village elders to scholars from the palace, that this man was someone like you.
And not at the same time.
You were immortal.
The man was something different.
And that alarmed you.
For a time, the both of you ignored each other, but as time went on, when the strange accidental meetings didn’t look as accidental as before, you began to run at the sight of him. You couldn’t explain it, but you felt safe with this strange man, as if he were a long lost relative who came to see you again. He felt like home.
But you were still suspicious and you kept evading his attempts to talk to you.
Eventually, however, you began to realize that this man didn’t have nefarious intentions. Many times, over the years, he had actually bailed you out of situations where you had inadvertently gotten into trouble. Immortality came with a price and sometimes that price was when you accidentally visited a village one too many times and people recognized that you didn’t age. Other times, you would say or do things that would harken back to a simpler era and while you could lie your way around those things, sometimes people caught on.
Either way, you put yourself in impossible scenarios at times and for better or for worse, the strange man who was probably immortal just like you, but in a different way, was there to help you.
He wasn’t always there to play savior, but he was definitely always within reach. For every person who bore down upon you with a sword, he was there with violence to match. If someone cornered you with questions that you had no idea how to answer, he redirected the conversation.
For reasons unknown to you, he protected you.
Over time, you had become less wary concerning the man’s presence and slowly… It was almost comforting. Again, it felt like he was home.
When was the last time you had stayed in a place that could be considered home?
So, out of curiosity, you decided to test your boundaries. Instead of running away the instant you sensed his presence, you stayed behind. Teased him for being slow. Got into a debate on whether or not the clothes that he was wearing were in fashion for this century. (Neither of you were going to admit that the clothes that the both of you were wearing weren't exactly up to date). And then, when he was about to grab a hold of you or convince you to come back with him so that he could discuss things in private, you would run.
You would move into a new village, set up shop as a wanderer and hope that you could earn your keep with what skills you had, eventually get into trouble or stay too long, and then the strange man would show up. Banter would last from a few precious moments to hours that stretched into the night. Eventually, you decided to ask him, blunt as a rock and wielded as such—
“Why do you always follow me around, old man?”
He looked down at you, irritation softened by fondness. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore and leave your elders?”
Without even thinking about it, you smiled. “And how do you know that you’re older than me?”
You heard the strange man mutter something to himself. You couldn’t quite catch it, but you knew that he was questioning his life choices. To be honest, you were doing the same.
Instead of answering your question, he regarded you silently, a plea in his eyes and fatigue weighing down his shoulders. He was tired of all of this. It was about time that both of you made a change.
“Can we stop playing this game?”
You smiled wide and stepped closer to him, but still at a respectable distance. Bowing low, you said your name.
And then—
“Hello, you frustrating child. I’m China.”
You weren’t sure if he was joking, but you didn’t care. Right now, you feel safe. Protected.
And perhaps, this was the family that you were searching for all along.
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Platonic! Allies and Teen! Immortal! Reader Parenting Headcanons
Warnings: Fluff.
Anonymous Request: I absolute loved your platonic allies ask, if it’s not too much could I maybe request some headcanons of just everyday life and how they would “parent” them, I just think the concept would be funny seeing as the teen reader ain’t a country so they don’t have that kind of control over them lol and the reader is just chaotic in the best way always trying to make them and their friends laugh 😂
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America
So, America doesn’t look the part of a stereotypical parent, you know? As one of the younger Nations, he truly looks and acts the part—especially at meetings. However, when it comes to the reader, DAD MODE™ is activated once he realizes that he has to take care of someone else.
Don’t get him wrong, if the reader was a fellow country or some kind of principality or city, he wouldn’t take to parenting as well. Instead, he would have treated them like fellow Nations because Nations have to grow up pretty quickly. For all intents and purposes, though, the reader in his care is basically a human being that just so happens to be immortal. He wants to do right by them.
He definitely makes sure that he and the reader are always doing activities together. Sports are near the top of the list, but he also enjoys cooking exotic dishes, watching movies, or pranking together. (Hey, if he’s going to be a parent, he’s definitely going to be one of the fun ones!)
America is also a staunch supporter of education. He’s more inclined to the sciences himself, but if the reader wants to pursue the liberal arts, America doesn’t mind. Education is education and if the reader enjoys it, why not allow them the freedom to choose?
That said, failure is an opportunity to learn. America doesn't care about grades. Who does? They’re overrated letters and numbers anyway! What you should truly care about is what you learned, retained, and how you applied the material in real life.
America likes picking up the reader and throwing them up in the sky for laughs. He’ll stop if the reader is truly discomfited by the playful roughhousing.
When he tells the reader “I love you”, it comes out like a joke. Well not necessarily like a joke, but he puts a lot of levity in his tone because while he’s physically affectionate, verbally expressing how he feels is taxing on his soul. The reader should expect a lot of hugs, head ruffles, and noogies as compensation.
China
China has had countless territories and countries under his care. He knows how to care of beings who are smaller and younger than him. However, the reader is still human, so adjustments and learning curves are something to be expected.
What do you mean the reader can’t stay up for hours on end doing government paperwork or fight in hand to hand combat after a few hours of demonstration? Preposterous! Why are humans so fragile?
China mostly plays it up for laughs, but he is genuinely concerned that humankind has managed to live for so long. As an eldritch abomination that acts like a grumpy grandpa and looks like a man approaching his middle aged years, he kind of has to face the fact that he’s way too old for this.
That doesn’t stop him from caring and protecting the reader as best as he can.
China will definitely put the reader to school because success in life is heavily rooted in the years of childhood and adolescence. Sometimes, he will also take the reader to work so that they can observe what it’s like to be a Nation and how to work his government position. The reader is not Nation material, but the idea of someone taking over as his legacy has a nice ring to it.
China is a bit no nonsense and strict, but it comes from deep in his heart. Life is harsh and cruel; he’s only preparing the reader for the real world. Besides, he’s not like that all the time. He can be fun and personable at times!
If the reader allows it, China will definitely give the reader as many plushies as possible that can fit in their room. Sometimes, if China oversteps and needs to apologize, he’ll just give the reader as many plushies as possible to be forgiven. However, he soon realizes that he can’t always bribe affection like that, so he’ll outgrow that compulsion.
China doesn’t care what the reader looks like, he’ll think they’re cute no matter what. Is it because of the large age difference? Maybe, but China isn’t going to agree or deny anything.
When he tells the reader “I love you”, it’s a once in a while sort of thing. Those words are sacred; there’s something grounded and taboo about just saying it out loud. He’ll show his affection any other way possible, but getting the words out of his mouth is like admitting weakness. He still cares for the reader no matter what though.
England
England is going to be a great father and mentor. He’s learned from his mistakes from his previous colonies and the reader is human! There’s no way he can screw up since he isn’t expecting them to start a war of independence against him.
Spoiler alert: He screws up. A lot. And often.
It’s not because he’s not trying, he is. However, England, whether he admits it or not, is a person who has been hurt too many times in the past. He knows what it feels like to be abandoned, to be betrayed, to protect himself before he could get hurt. Caring too much is a weakness for him and it takes him time to learn how to open himself up to the reader.
That said, England will take parenting guides and manuals—things that weren’t available during his time as a conquering world power—as word of law until he feels comfortable in knowing that he is actually a good parent for the reader.
As much as England likes to present himself as a well dressed and well mannered man and expects the same from the reader, he is known to be rebellious at times. It’ll show up in the small things sometimes—well worded quips under his breath due to bureaucratic red tape, breaking a few nonsensical laws here and there. You know, really small things that go under the radar. Other times, England decides to do away with conservative attitudes and go all out. If the reader wants to dye their hair or wear clothing from a subculture that he isn’t too well aware of, he’s not going to stop them. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll definitely encourage them!
England also likes to spend some quality time with the reader. Whether it be reading together in the same room, criticizing the news, or gardening, he enjoys it all. He especially enjoys it more if the reader also confessed that they also enjoy these small activities.
England never says “I love you”. Although he’s old and knows that all humans will one day go back to the earth, his lips can never quite form the words; his vocal cords never have the strength to give voice and flavor to such a wonderful phrase. Instead, he’s a column of support, unwavering in his loyalty. He’ll make the reader laugh with his dry wit and humor and sometimes, he feels like that’s enough.
France
France is probably the only one of the Allies who will take to being a good parent with great finesse. He’s had his fair share of colonies, but while England and China may have floundered in their attempts to distinguish the line between a child Nation and a human one, France easily knows how to handle the reader.
Most countries have walked amongst their citizens and have experienced the same trials and heartaches that life had to offer. However, France is somewhere more attuned to humanity. He feels and loves and cares so much! So, of course he’ll tune into how the reader deals with affection, how to best take care of them while feeling down. He is one of the more emotionally stable, resilient, and supportive of them all.
He always has a plethora of wise words to say, regardless of the situation. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not, sometimes it’s more of a joke so he can get the reader to relax and realize that some problems don’t always need hard hitting solutions.
France likes seeing the reader in clothing and accessories that emphasize their inherent qualities that make them stand out from others. He’ll make sure to provide an extensive wardrobe that not only appeals to his tastes, but also conforms to what the reader likes and will be comfortable by.
He is also big on physical and verbal affection. Life is short, no matter how many times the reader has to tell him that they’re immortal. Nonsense! If France wants to express how much he cares about the reader, he will definitely go out of his way to make sure that they understand him.
That said, when he says “I love you”, he says it differently each and every time. Sometimes, the “I love you” can be said in irritation. Sometimes, it can be said in fond exasperation. Other times, “I love you” is said as if it were one of those universal laws that cannot be broken. “I love you” is never a lie with France. He will also accompany his “I love you’s” with as much physical affection he can give so long as the reader lets him.
Russia
As a Nation born of winter and cold ice, Russia has known what it is like to lose the ones you love most when you least expect it. Many of his people had died due to the bitter, unforgiving cold and he is not prepared to see the reader go the same way even if they are immortal.
Russia may come off as overbearing at times, especially since he likes to drape the reader in mountains of winter wear even when it’s mildly warm, but he means well. There’s a certain tenderness in his actions as he tucks a scarf around the reader’s neck or slips a hat over their head. It’s almost like he’s scared of touching the reader lest they slip from his fingers—dead like some of his beloved people in the past.
On the walks that they take outside of his house, sometimes Russia gets struck with the urge to hold the reader’s hand. If the reader allows it, he’ll hold their hand comfortably in his, always making sure that he isn’t crushing their all too human hand in his grasp. His hands are always cool to the touch, but with time, they warm up and become malleable around the reader’s fingers.
Russia tends to be strict. He tries to be lenient at times, but sometimes he forgets that the reader isn’t one of his subordinates. He forgets that humans are still fragile, no matter how immortal they may seem. That said, sometimes he might expect too much from the reader and if they don’t meet those expectations, his disappointment is almost too hard to bear.
Russia tries to curb his austerity, but it always comes back to haunt him some way or another. Over time, he’ll learn from his mistakes, but until then, the reader needs to know that he isn’t taking any of the reader’s shortcomings to heart. If anything, it reminds him that he needs to be realistic with his expectations.
When Russia says, “I love you”, it’s a soft thing. You can barely hear it over the sound of your own breathing; it’s almost like he hasn’t said anything at all. However, if the reader looks at him, they’ll see that his normally vacant, hollow eyes are filled with deep, intense affection and care. He may ruffle the reader’s head or give them a soft smile that perfectly encapsulates how he feels about them.
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Platonic! Axis and Immortal! Teen! Reader Headcanons
Warnings: Slight angst, slight fluff, mentions of WWII.
Anonymous Request: How about the platonic immortal reader ask but with the axis? maybe including Prussia and Romano and maybe even Spain if it’s not too much?
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Germany
The thing about Germany is that he’s young. Young by Nation standards and not as skilled or as experienced when it comes to dealing with the world. When he finds out that the reader exists, he… He kind of freaks out.
Immortal beings, he knows they exist and he is definitely one of the many phenomena that counts as immortal, but he has never been borne witness to an immortal human before!
Germany definitely calls Prussia for advice on how to deal with teenagers.
He also consults parenting guides, child psychologists, counselors, and even turns to other Nations who either reared younger Nations or are particularly close to humans. He takes meticulous notes and systematically tries out the advice—to varying degrees of success.
What he finds out after he starts taking care of the reader is that the advice given to him isn’t a one size fits all situation. The reader isn’t a Nation who can govern themselves with minimal assistance. The reader isn’t a human who can die any day. The reader is special.
The reader’s needs will be subsequently different.
Once Germany realizes that not all advice will be good advice, he’ll turn to the reader. This time, he preps himself by actually listening and asking questions to find out the reader’s personality and their baseline needs and wants.
After he finds out what makes the reader happy, what makes the reader tick, that’s when he’ll become the world’s greatest guardian.
Yes, Germany will be a socially awkward mess at the start, but everything he does for the reader is because he cares so much, it almost hurts. Over time, he will gain more confidence and will show the reader that he is capable of taking care of them.
Germany is a wonderful teacher, patient and enduring. He is keen on technology and the mechanical world, but he also has a keen grasp on other subjects. If the reader has any trouble learning about basic concepts on disciplines that Germany isn’t familiar with, he will personally stay up late at night going through research documents and looking up video lectures so that he can help out the reader with whatever questions they might have.
On lazy days, Germany will bake as many sweet treats as possible because the measuring process relaxes him. He won’t force the reader to help him, but he can’t deny that the sound of someone whisking the batter or banging pots together by accident makes him warm on the inside. What makes the baking process even more wonderful is watching the reader stuff themselves silly with whatever he’s made. (Don’t worry, Germany has already noted their likes, dislikes, and allergies).
If the reader doesn’t like sweets, that’s completely fine! Germany still makes great, hearty meals! Whenever he does go on a baking spree, he’ll take the reader to visit his neighbors so that they can taste his baked treats. Not only is it a great bonding experience between Nation and immortal human, but it definitely fills Germany with great joy to know that he is doing the parenting thing all right whenever Hungary, Prussia, or Austria tell him how wonderful and helpful the reader is.
Germany is strict with rules, but he is lenient if the reader pleads their case with sufficient evidence to amend the rules. (As time goes on, Germany may bend more often than not).
Although he is very introverted, if the reader is not, he will definitely brave crowds and scheduled outings if it makes the reader happy. If the reader is more introverted, he makes sure that the both of them have lives that are equally spent inside and outside enjoying other people’s company.
Germany doesn’t say “I love you” often, but the reader can see it when he gently corrects them as they measure flour into a batter. Or when Germany teaches them how to change a lightbulb. Or when Germany lightly scolds them for being reckless. Germany reveals his love by caring actions.
Italia Romano
When Romano finds out that there is an immortal human and there’s no one to take care of them, of course he’ll take them in! What, did you think that he let any child—immortal or not—starve and freeze to death?
Food. The language that Romano is most familiar with is food. He doesn’t care about the reader’s situation, their name, or why they're immortal. Romano will take one glance at their face and immediately start boiling water and rolling the dough for fresh pasta. YES. HE WILL MAKE FRESH PASTA FOR THE READER.
Sure, he’s suspicious of outsiders, but this is a child. Un bambino! He can interrogate them later after they’ve been fed. So what if you’re immortal and loved for a long time, you’re still a child mentally and by the grace of God, Romano will make sure that the reader is comfortable in his home.
Romano isn’t always the best parent, but he definitely tries. It may have been almost two thousand years or so since Grandpa Rome has come by to raise him, but Romano knows the basics. And well, Spain did teach him a thing or two regarding discipline.
Once the pasta frenzy has worn off, Romano will make sure that the reader knows how to manage and clean a household, how to garden, cook, and what the best marketplaces are for great produce. He’ll be damned if the reader gets scammed and doesn’t learn basic life lessons while under his care.
That said, he can be quite gruff and not as patient as most, but he’ll do his best to rein in his temper. His temper is reserved for those idiots at world summits and for terrible people. For the reader, he’ll either leave the room or train himself to know the signs that he’s getting angry so that he can calm himself down before then. (This is a skill that he can learn and hone if he realizes that the reader is scared of angry yelling or is uncomfortable in general with loud sounds).
(He’ll never admit it, but this is a skill that helps in international meetings).
When Romano isn’t busy with paperwork, he’ll make the reader help him with household chores. Never before has his household looked so clean! He can be a bit of a taskmaster, but now that he has to set an example for the reader, he finds that he isn’t as lazy and willing to commit to weeding his entire garden or dusting every inch of his house.
Romano is also a bit of a fashionista. Milan may be in Veneziano’s territory, but Romano has Rome so that obviously makes him better. He’ll make sure that the reader is decked out in clothing that will make any person green with envy. The style and the colors will match whatever the reader likes and Romano will spare no expense so that the reader can show off.
On most days, Romano does not like staying inside of the house all the time. He’s the outdoorsy type who needs continual stimulation from his surroundings. He’ll take the reader out on walks in the late afternoons and early evenings, when the air is cool and the day is winding down. Sometimes, he’ll talk about the plants and the houses they’ll pass, the history of the inhabitants from centuries past. Other times, he’ll remain quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Walking calms him down whenever he’s most stressed and he hopes that the reader will use this as a coping mechanism should life become just as stressful.
Romano says “I love you” like it’s a fact that can’t be contested by skeptics and scientists alike. He says it likes he’s berating his little brother or scolding Spain for being stupid. Of course he loves the reader! Are they deaf, blind, and stupid? He made the reader pasta for God’s sake! (Now shut your mouth and let Romano mother you, you oblivious ingrate).
Italia Veneziano
Veneziano loves children! They could be small, they could be big, talkative or quiet, boisterous or reserved—he finds children so enchanting! They are God’s gifts to the world and Veneziano finds himself entranced by them.
When he finds the reader, immortal teenager and all, Veneziano immediately tries to take them under his wing. He may have missed out on the reader’s formative childhood, but he will do his best to provide for a better future for them!
However, Veneziano is Veneziano. He can be a flighty person at times, which results in scatterbrained decisions and short term gratification. Unlike Romano, Veneziano may not always behave like an older guardian should.
That isn’t to say Veneziano won’t be a good parent. Parenting, like any other discipline, requires patience and consistent practice. He was a child once, wasn’t he? Veneziano prefers both the words of his former guardians and personal experience rather than turning to guidebooks or advice from professionals. Veneziano will definitely contact Austria and Romano for help. After that, he’ll pay very close attention to his reader.
While he may be scatterbrained and may make impulsive decisions, he can be very observant at times. As an artist, he knows what brushes to use, the strokes certain hairs can make. What hues and dyes are complimentary and contrasting. He uses his eye for details to know if the reader is doing well.
He’s an emotional person—often prone to tears or wide grins. The instant he knows that the reader is feeling down, Veneziano will immediately come running with warm hugs and pecks on the cheeks. Depending on what the reader needs at the moment, Veneziano can lend an ear, offer a glass of water to calm them down, or simply sit in silence as the reader tries to process their emotions. Veneziano knows what it’s like to be put down and smothered rather than express how he truly feels—he’d rather prostrate himself in front of the pope and give up his faith than let his reader feel the same way under his care.
Similarly, if the reader is feeling joyful, Veneziano shares in their happiness. Happiness is bright yellows and oranges to him, warm colors that light up the earth and sets an inviting candle aglow within.
Veneziano, whenever he feels introspective and nostalgic for the past, often paints. It’s a medium that has enraptured him since the days of his infancy. While Romano favors work that hardens his fingers and limbers his muscles (gardening and sculpting are one of many), Veneziano prefers arts that are finely tuned and detailed. He likes to doodle, to draw. Sometimes, he might brush his fingers playfully on guitars or bang on the keys of a piano. If the reader wishes, and he hopes that they do, he’ll impart his knowledge of the arts. He’s a patient teacher, and while his instructions may leave a lot to be desired, that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying his hardest. Eventually, he learns how to teach and the reader eventually learns the art of their choice.
Like Romano, Veneziano likes dressing in nice clothing. He’ll let the reader run around in the shops of his finest cities with his credit card. He’ll let the reader express themself. You want that fabric in that specific color and pattern? Well, he isn’t wearing it and he can definitely give the reader tips should they want it, but for the most part, he’s hands off with the aesthetics. He trusts the reader to come into their own, and if they don’t, at least Veneziano knows that they aren’t in want of new clothing.
Veneziano’s heart is in the ocean. He loves swimming and on odd days, fishing. Being close to the water makes him somewhat childish at times, but for the most part, he feels somber. He’ll teach the reader to swim and maybe he’ll give them private tours of his beloved birthplace in a gondola. (Yes, he’ll even wear the attire associated with gondoliers if they really want it).
When Veneziano says “I love you”, it’s always said in private. He’s more extroverted than his brother and infinitely more scatterbrained, but this? This declaration of love for a teenager under his care? It’s meant to be a decision handled with care and deliberation. As a child, Veneziano had lost so many: his famed predecessors, a little empire who fought too many battles young, and countless humans he had befriended. Love had been fleeting in the past, does he dare hope to hold onto it now? Veneziano says it in the moments where he is at his most stressed, when pressure needs release and he needs to let the reader know that he cares, that he always cares. “I love you” he says when he feels like he’s about to lose everything.
Japan
Japan doesn’t know what to do. As a Nation who had once been the king of isolation and closed borders, he isn’t always keen on opening up to others. He’s gotten better over the years, but even he needed some time to be by himself so he can enjoy the solitude. When he meets the immortal, teen reader, he’s beside himself in panic.
The reader had to have spent some time by themselves, right? Would it presumptuous of him to take them in when they don’t really know each other? Did the reader already have an established place to stay? What about family? Would he be overstepping to offer them a place to stay?
Unlike Romano and Prussia, Japan doesn’t immediately welcome the reader. He’s polite and kind as always, but the change in dynamic from strangers to a family unit is slow and gradual. Like a river burrowing through the base of a mountain.
At first, Japan will visit the reader and hope that they are doing well. He’ll make sure that their education is taken care of, that all of their needs are met. He might be an acquaintance checking on a citizen of his country, but he cares.
Honestly, it’s up to the reader to give Japan the go ahead to take them in. At that point, all of Japan’s anxieties about parenting seem to decrease by tenfold. (He still has anxiety, always will if he’ll answer you truthfully, but now he knows that the reader actually wants to spend time with him!)
Japan may be an old man like China and France, but he is definitely up to date with the times. He’s not as obnoxiously adamant on getting cute things for the reader like China or making sure that they have finery that will make their peers jealous like France, but Japan can provide for the reader in his own understated way. He’ll take them out to the best districts in some of his favorite cities for clothing, video games, certain knick knacks that he thinks the reader might enjoy, and whatever entertainment they want.
While he may not speak much or physically emote, he is still very keen on showing some of his favorite things to the reader. When he’s busy with work or if he can’t muster the energy to speak, he’ll text them his favorite anime, recommend new pop bands, and even provide the names of catchy light novels.
Because Japan is very quiet, he might end up startling the reader at the most inopportune of times. To accommodate the reader (and to decrease the chances of suffering a heart attack because startling the reader also startles him as well), he’ll often knock on hard surfaces twice to alert them. It’s a simple system that has evolved to include simple words and phrases that sometimes replaces a lot of their conversation.
It’s mostly quiet in their shared house, which Japan greatly appreciates. However, if the reader is more vocal or generally louder than what Japannis used to, he doesn’t particularly mind. There’s something oddly human about listening to a person hum or sing to themself while washing the dishes or dance a silly little jig while sweeping the floor. It’s not Japan’s usual way of expressing himself, but he won’t stop the reader from doing what they can to be happy.
Sometimes, when the night is unbearably warm and they can’t sleep, Japan will invite them to sit outside with him. They can sit and watch the moon sail across the sky in silence. Other times, Japan might tell them stories about conversing with China or other Nations while sitting under the very same moon. It’s during these quiet moments that Japan’s inhibitions leave him and he starts talking like a river breaking through a dam. It’s not until the reader starts to show signs of sleeping that he’ll start to sing and bring them back inside. (The reader never remembers Japan singing and that’s fine by him).
It’s under the same moon and with the waning scrap of unconsciousness that the reader hears “I love you” come from Japan’s mouth. It’s a secret that is carried by the wind and is observed by the moon and stars. Perhaps, one day when Japan is confident that he feels worthy of being a parent for the reader that he will say it to their face without hesitation or the cover of night to mask his emotions. It’ll take a while, but so did the beginning of their relationship. It will happen and like all inevitabilities, Japan has already prepared for it.
Prussia
Well. Prussia raised Germany. Of course he knows what he’s doing! Sure, Germany may have ended up taking many of his lessons to heart and that ended up in the culmination of the Second World War, but the reader is an immortal human teenager! They can’t be hard.
And because Prussia is awesome like that, it isn’t.
There’s a learning curve, of course, but Prussia is a seasoned warrior and guardian. Routines and discipline come easily to him; the dreams and wants for a progeny that will continue his legacy live on in Germany. For the reader, his dreams aren’t as big, but they don’t need to be. He put too much pressure on Germany when he was younger, now Prussia is adamant that he won’t put that same pressure on the reader. That doesn’t stop Prussia from instilling discipline and order into the reader.
Prussia is a disciplinarian, but he means well. He likes order in his own chaotic way and once he knows that the reader can meet his expectations, he doesn’t want anything lower than their best. It’s for their own good; he wants to see them grow into their potential.
This means that Prussia will make sure that the reader has access to the best education. Sharp minds are the key to success.
Discipline is also another aspect of order that he prides above all else. One day, he’ll show the reader his collection of journals, of how he religiously spends at least half an hour noting down his thoughts and experiences every day. He’ll give the reader a notebook and expect them to fill out a page each day. If the reader proves that they are disciplined, they can graduate to a journaling app, but Prussia would be secretly delighted if the reader stuck to the old pen and paper method. (They could totally have matching notebooks!)
Prussia isn’t always a drill sergeant, it’s just that he’s so used to Germany easily falling into line when he was a small Nation. If this caused conflict with the reader, it might take both parties to stand back and look into the situation with fresh eyes. The reader can’t deny that Prussia is right—discipline and order are necessary—but Prussia has to also admit that the reader is not Germany and that compromise is necessary. Once they both realize this, then their relationship becomes more lighthearted and Prussia becomes less of a disciplinarian and more of a strict, but doting father.
(It’s hard to accept that the reader isn’t some sort of redemption arc for what happened to Germany. They’re different people, but Prussia will always carry that guilt with him. He hopes to never explain this to the reader, but he suspects that they already know).
Prussia isn’t all that up to date with modernity. Germany is more in line with trends, so he’ll just ask his dear sweet brother on how to deal with modern day teenagers. If Germany takes too long compiling PowerPoints on how to deal with humans, Prussia just straight up asks the reader what they want. Sometimes, handling the situation as bluntly as possible is the best way to go about things.
Not many Nations know this about him, but Prussia loves baking. Who do you think taught Germany? There’s a science in the measuring of ingredients, a magic in how different times and temperatures affect the pastry. Prussia likes to bake traditional breads and cakes, but he doesn’t shy away from foreign foods. He’s a stickler for rules in the kitchen, so he won’t ask the reader for help, but he is Getty surprised and impressed if the reader can handle his austere attitude. Together, they can put the world’s best pastry chefs out of business.
Prussia loves Germany and he loves the reader. It should be apparent, right? He does say it… sometimes. But probably not enough. When was the last time he had told West that he… But this isn’t about him! Prussia doesn’t like admitting vulnerability on the best of days, but he will say “I love you” in his own way. In handwriting that had been taught to him by monks when he was still the Teutonic Order, Prussia writes his “I love you” in the covers of the journals that he bequeaths to the reader. Even if the reader doesn’t use journals anymore, he’ll slip heavy parchment into their pillows, pockets of their clothes, or in the gaps between their bedroom door and the floor. His “I love you” is quietly confident, his writing in a hand that cares deeply, but quietly. Prussia never uses his special parchment and pen for anyone else but for Germany and the reader.
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French Lessons (France and Immortal! Teen! Reader)
Warnings: Fluff, slight angst.
@specialspaniard Request: Omg omg could I please have a cute fic of France teaching immortal teen reader French as a way of bonding (in the same AU as the FACE family headcanons)
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France could not remember a time when he had so much trouble teaching someone his beautiful, native tongue. Although he had his fair share of hurdles in the past, most of his colonies and close friends could pick up the language within a few weeks of rigorous training. Although, as much as France hated to admit it, it was because all of his former pupils were Nations and Nations had to be adaptable with the times. If learning his language meant that they could survive another day, then of course they would. Besides that, being fluent in more than one language was basically a skillset that all Nations had to hone.
Unfortunately, while this mindset and political advantage was practiced by Nations, the same could not be said for humans. Sure, there were humans who could easily pick up languages like any Nation might, but there were just as many—more even—who could take months or perhaps even years trying to master a new language. There was no shame in that, dedication and practice was what made it a noble achievement.
But, France really wanted you to learn his language!
He may never go as far as to say that he was jealous that everyone could easily go back and forth in English, but had to stop and putter around trying to explain the nuances of the French language and French humor, but it stung.
(And it dragged conversations).
After a brief discussion with everyone in the family—yourself included—it was decided that he would facilitate your training in the French language.
Canada had tried to volunteer his own wisdom, but after what happened to his language in his borders... France dreaded what it would be like having to navigate a conversation in Canadian French.
As for America... America was a lost cause and England had gulped down his favorite tea to swallow down whatever insult he was going to make. (It was a shame, France had already queued a line of witty comebacks to combat his beloathed enemy with).
As for you, you knew how important culture and identity were to Nations. While English was the easiest way to communicate with most Nations nowadays, most of them would love to have conversations in their native tongues. Making an effort to learn another Nation’s language was basically an offering for friendship or a way to secure yourself an alliance.
Wanting to learn French for your adoptive father was definitely a step in the right direction.
The thing was…
"France, I don't think..."
France shook his head at you, a playful, but exasperated look in his eyes as he gestured down at the workbook in front of you.
"In French, my dear." He said in flawless—of course—French.
You bit your lip and tried to imitate France's impeccable accent, but it came out... Too aggressive, too stilted, and far too imperfect for France to even think that you were trying to speak French. Before France could even try and correct you, you tried again with another phrase in the book that was provided to you.
And yet...
You kept making the same mistakes.
Sometimes you made different mistakes that snowballed into making the whole phrase you were trying to say unintelligible. It got so bad that tears began to fill your eyes, the words printed on the page blurring into each other.
It wasn't until you felt soft hands petting your cheeks and rubbing the salty trails of our tears away from your face that you realized that you weren't alone. France had never left your side, he was always there. A silent, but loving shadow that waited until you had worn yourself out.
"Dear,” his voice was hesitant and low, “why are you so upset? I'm already so impressed that you're trying so hard. You don't need to push yourself."
Even if his words held a measure of comfort, you couldn’t help but want to convince him that you were more than capable. "But... But I want you to be so proud of me!"
He shook his head. "But dear, I'm already proud of you. Don't hurt yourself on my account."
This frustrated you. Doesn’t he know that you worked so hard? That you wanted to go above and beyond just for him? "But you always look so sad and frustrated when I either don't understand or can't speak in French. What if..."
A sudden terrible thought overcame you.
"What if?"
"What if you don't love me anymore because—"
France let out an enraged little laugh that made you stop speaking.
For a moment, you thought that you had angered him, but you dismissed it when France swept you up in his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I would never cease loving you because of a language barrier." He paused. "True, it would make me so happy to hear fluent French from you, but to know that you have tried this much? It makes me so happy! But, I don't want you to hurt yourself, understand?"
You nodded and melted into his embrace.
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A New Addition to the Anglo-French Wars (Platonic! FACE Family and Immortal! Teen! Reader)
Warnings: Fluff.
Anonymous Request: Immortal!Reader!child! x England x France
"Cut to England basically kidnapping you whenever he realizes that France is trying to monopolize your time."
I need this, please I beg of you to make this into a fanfiction. can you include France in it who's like "Typical, England."
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“I bet you twenty bucks Dad’s gonna break.” America tossed back half a bag of chips down his throat, the crumbs gathering at the corners of his mouth and falling down the collar of his shirt.
As the bag crinkled noisily, Canada, who had been busy trying to stifle his groans of disgust at America’s failings in trying to be the older twin brother, rolled his eyes. “My money or—”
“Mine. Obviously.” America’s mouth obnoxiously sprayed bits of pieces of his junk food all over himself. However, as disgusting as America was whenever he wanted to annoy Canada on purpose, the American knew that he was going to bear the brunt of his little brother’s ire if he didn’t straighten up—both figuratively and physically. After patting his mouth dry and taking measured sips of water to sate his parched throat, he spoke again. “Dad’s not going to let this go.”
Canada raised a brow and looked in the direction where America’s gaze was focused on.
Out in the garden, armed with a spade and a ferocious scowl to match, England was angrily staring holes into one of the kitchen windows. Normally, that sort of glare was reserved for America’s ill timed pranks or whenever one of his uncouth brothers came to call. In this instance, England’s ire was directed at his co-parent and most hated enemy of all time: France. Normally, this wouldn’t be considered unusual, but the British man found himself pacified whenever he was in the presence of his newest ward, you. But then again, you weren’t at his side, but at France’s beck and call.
Gah! It must be so horrible trying to stomach just how many ingredients and instructions had to go into making such light, airy meals that tasted good, not that England was ever going to admit that, not even upon pain of death and—
“Yo, pops!” England found himself straightening from his slouched posture to find that his former charge was waving around a bag of crisps, the noise making France and their youngest addition to the family look up in curiosity. Knowing that his dreary disposition would make you worry, England focused all of his energy on trying to make America stop acting like a child a hundredth of his age. “You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm! Come here and eat some of your lame off brand chips!”
“If I was to have an aneurysm, I highly doubt adding in oil and starch is going to help. Also—” England stalked towards the North American twins, not at all minding that he was tracking in mud on his clean floors. “—they’re called crisps, you tyke.”
As America guffawed in laughter, Canada offered England a glass of water alongside a wedge of lemon. Offering the more mild-mannered sibling his thanks, England took a sip.
And then promptly choked.
“Dad?” Canada rose from the wicker chair, a concerned expression on his face. Despite the clear intent to help his surrogate father, Canada was gently rebuffed when England waved him away.
America, that great big tyke who obviously had no lost love for England, continued to snigger in the background.
“Apologies, Canada.” England took a slow sip of his water to calm the burning in his throat and to quell the coughs that threatened to explode from his chest. “But your fool of a father has breathed his last!”
And with such an ominous threat, England darted into the kitchen.
America was the first to speak up.
“You owe me twenty bucks.”
“Oh, shut up. Dad hasn’t done anything yet.”
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It happened in an instant.
One second you were listening to a heartracing tale of one of France’s earlier exploits as a youth, when you were grabbed by the waist and hustled out of the kitchen. You were given a fraction of a second to deposit the bowl of batter in your hands into the kitchen counter before you were whisked away into the gardens. France, for the most part, looked put out, but blew you a kiss and a wink when you gave him a pleading look.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” France rolled his eyes, “or so they say. But I must say, Angleterre, desperation doesn’t look good on you!”
Out in the garden, England brushed off any offensive stains on your person, clicking his tongue when he saw stray bits of flour coating your clothing.
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll be the bigger person here because someone has to. What do you say? You help me out in the garden today?”
From behind, England, America piped up, his hand grasping a wad of crumpled bills. “Did he say something about being the bigger person in this situation?”
You nodded, confused… only to groan in exasperation as America turned to Canada, a jeering look on his face.
“I told ya! Gimme!”
You were later told that Canada lost the last of his American money to America.
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