This is a n one shot if you will, because I am stuck in three pieces and this didn't leave my mind. It's the first straight pair I write and I'm not sure I'll even finish this story… If there's any interest maybe... maybe but know that as always my stories have rusame, just warning.
Pairings: FRUK (England x NyoFrance)
Warnings: there's a bit of homophobia becasue it was part of the secondary arc. It's all open. SFW.
summary: Would you fall for a prostitute?
His life can be described in one word. Work.
Arthur comes from a poor family with many siblings and little money. He never got along with them nor tried to. He simply wanted to leave that hellish place and leave he did at a tender age.
For a long time the motto sex, drugs and rock and roll fit his lifestyle in ways he still tries to hide with passion. Nevermind that his sleepwear consists of boxers and a sex pistols shirt or another punk rock well worn/loved shirt. No one gets to see them either way.
But time is fleeting and he had to change his ways to become someone to be proud of.
Nowadays, Arthur is a well respected gentleman who arose with nerves of steel in the engineering industry.
He’s the best on the field and as such he enjoys a life of travels and fine things he never dreamt of having.
He watches his newest partner speak about the costs of production and thinks he made a good choice hiring a Switz to help the declining business. They made a huge investment in America recently and while it boosted sales there they are becoming obsolete in Europe which is a problem.
He speaks of merging the business with the Germans to face the Chinese mass production and while he agrees it leaves him with a bitter taste. After all he already has to divide the command with the Americans which will make it even harder to reach consensus.
“Beilschmidt is willing to talk.” Alfred Jones, his second in command, and leader in the America front says and he sighs. If he made his mind there’s no way he’ll shut up with that and while Arthur’s not that old he thinks his 34th birthday hit him hard since he no longer wishes to fight Alfred on the issue.
He learnt to choose his battles with that man. One has to if they don’t want to destroy a life of work.
“His brother will be the one taking over and you know he’s not very fond of me.” Arthur admits which pains him but he was never a man with many friends. He’s stubborn, temperamental and wants things to go his way, while they are good traits to build an empire they’re not so good to keep it.
“Leave that to me.” the younger man says with a cheerful smile and Arthur sighs again.
And that’s how he finds himself in France. It seems that Gilbert Beilschmidt has meetings he can’t cancel so they agree to meet him there in a way to mellow the man to the proposal. A merge, he still shudders at the thought.
The American front will be left alone but at what cost?
It’s in moments like this that his loneliness shows up unexpected but he ignores it. He’s used to the hardships of life.
“It’s so cool, did you see the Eiffel tower? Can’t wait to see it!” Alfred looks around excited and he frowns at him.
Alfred looks like a tourist not a businessman but he knows he’s ruthless and won’t leave without a reply which it’s only one of the many reasons he wants him here. He’s a shark, he reminds Arthur of himself when he started, filled with ambition and need to prove himself.
They’re waiting for a recent addition on their team in New York, a russian engineer who used to work in east Germany directly above Gilbert Beilschmidt before he became the Beilschmidt, the legend who made the business grow and rival Arthur’s own business in Europe.
Ivan Braginski is, for the lack of a better word, mysterious. He’s a genius in the field and what he lacks in social skills he makes up in sheer knowledge and mastery. He thought he would be a liability since he used to work with the man but Alfred assured him if there’s someone who knows the elder Beilschmidt is him and he trusts his judgment. At least when it comes to work.
“Finally!” Alfred loudly complains, waving Braginski over and Arthur watches as the tall man moves towards them slowly.
"Ready to kiss some ass?" Alfred asks Arthur and he scrunches his nose at the turn of phrase, Alfred knows he hates it but does it anyway.
"Be sure to kiss it properly, he's not easy to please." Braginski says with a small smile and he remembers now why he was opposed to the idea in the beginning. They are always teasing each other, the competitive idiots.
"Why do you have to make it weird?" Alfred pales and shoves his arm but he doesn’t bulge.
"You were the one saying that."
"Where 's Gilbert?" Arthur stops the beginning of the argument with the only thing that matters. Work.
"On the phone. Ludwig asked for a delay. He said he'd explain it as soon as he knew what was going on in the German offices." He sounds dubious.
Arthur also thinks it is suspicious but they need the merge, they need to play nice for the meeting to work.
Gilbert is polite and apologizes for the meeting ending up being delayed two days. There was a problem with one motor and a gas leak, a terror to deal with. Arthur knows and still he can’t help feeling mistrust. If Alfred also thinks that he doesn’t show, he’s loudly talking with the German as Ivan watches them boredly.
“I have to make it up to you, I know a great place for that, shall we go?” Gilbert says and before Arthur can refuse wanting to go to his hotel room to sleep the jetlag Alfred agrees.
He has a bad feeling and wants to ask the russian if he has an idea of where they’ll be taken but he’s sure the russian will give a cryptic reply or a blatant lie that only amuses the man himself.
While Gilbert is actually fun to be around, he tells them the most crazy stories and even makes a bit of work talk for Arthur’s sake, he’s too obnoxious and suffers from the very same curse Alfred does. Selective hearing.
He can’t help thinking they’re two peas in a pot.
And while Alfred is usually more subdued he’s quickly derailed by the german. He’s a tactician and diverts the conversation from the topics he doesn’t want to speak of and forces confrontation when he feels like it.
For example when he speaks of his little brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt, who will be working closely with them if everything works as they wish.
“Do you have a problem with his age?” he asks harshly and they share a surprised look because Alfred is just as young and they couldn’t care less about it. He guesses some families are more protective of each other than what he’s used to. Ivan, who has siblings, looks really pleased with the question.
True to the French, the food is delicious and even if Alfred asks for soda instead of wine or beer, Gilbert doesn’t look displeased at all which makes Arthur relieved.
It wouldn’t be the first time that cultural differences would be an issue.
He belatedly recalls he’s in France, his mind focused on work and the reason they’re in the country but when he finally lets himself enjoy his surroundings he actually enjoys the finesse and quaintness of the place Gilbert chose.
Clearly expensive but small enough to allow them a good time. He speaks of the city as if he knows it well and he’s surprised at that since he thought they were only headquartered in Germany but he’s told they actually have three headquarters and that’s one of the reasons there’s two of them in charge.
“Is that a bar?” he hears Alfred ask curiously and notices Ivan perking up at that.
“You could call it a bar. It’s the best place in all of Paris, you must come.” he presses and they end up following him.
It’s not a bar but a brothel and when Alfred laughs and Arthur sputters indignant he grins harder and Ivan almost drags him inside.
He hasn’t been in a place of ill repute in years and that’s not something he missed. They’re stinky, disgusting and annoying.
The place is spacious with small tables and a stage and looks much fancier than what he remembers a place like that being. The decor is tasteful, the girls look pretty and there’s a few men working among them serving the tables.
He notices Alfred making a face and Gilbert turns to Ivan on his right side.
“Do they have a problem with that?” he motions at two lads kissing and Ivan gives a shrug with his enigmatic smile.
“None at all.” Arthur assures because he won’t have him think they’re a homophobic company because Alfred can’t see a display of affection without making a face, the childish git.
Pleased Gilbert notices Alfred watching the girls dancing near the tables and yells at him.
“You can join them.”
Alfred looks surprised but grins and leaves them to pick a table.
They choose one near the stage where a beautiful brunette is singing a cheerful french song.
Even a brothel is classy in France, isn’t it stupid?
Baginski asks him what he wants to drink and he asks for an ale because he’s in need of something strong and when he leaves them he feels Gilbert shifting closer.
“Relax Kirkland, you know we want this to work, there's no reason to be grumpy.”
Arthur rolls his eyes and nods not wanting to lash out at the man as they look at the beautiful girls.
There’s lovely ladies for all tastes and the french girls are indeed pretty. Fair skinned, dark skinned, blond, brunette, a lone red head in the corner, thin, curvy and in several states of undress and yet it looks almost tasteful. As if chosen carefully to give a look of profligate and still moral. He can see the appeal and yet he’d rather go away.
He’s been there, done that, fucked that. There’s nothing here for him.
“Holy shit.” Gilbert roars on his ear making him wince and he follows his hand to watch where Alfred joined four girls in some sort of dance, he even took his glasses off to dance. His flirting with the women as he dances but he never skips a step. He moves his arms and legs in a way that tells of years of training and he blinks.
Surprises, surprises.
It seems Gilbert agrees since he whistles at the performance and soon Braginski joins them watching the dance with wide surprised eyes.
It seems the Russian can be surprised too, after all.
"Did you know?" Braginski asks him and he shakes his head. He didn't.
He knows he was born and raised in New Orleans; he was not aware he actually knew how to dance.
While the other two watch Alfred and laugh at it he watches the girls around him. Well, sue him for noticing the breasts of the blonde one.
"I think Marianne is here somewhere."
He doesn't turn to ask who Marianne is. With his luck and since Gilbert’s German he's probably talking about some dominatrix dressed in leather who will touch the albino's hair and show them he's a puppy with a woman. He'd rather not watch that.
Alfred walks to them all sweaty and tired but happy and he plops into the couch with a pleased grin.
"Haven't danced Charleston in years! God. Missed that." He grins at Arthur who actually laughs at that.
Alfred looks to his side where Braginski is now watching him curiously and barks.
"What? Don't you dance in Russia?"
Before the Russian can reply Gilbert fake whispers loudly enough to make Braginski roll his eyes.
"He 's too sober. Get him drunk and he'll dance his icy heart out. Trust me."
"I do not dance." He frowns and Gilbert makes a face.
"Hear hear, when Ivan was a tiny little baby he learnt ballet!" He cackles, making Alfred join and soon the table is loud as they bicker.
Somehow Alfred ends up buying the Russian a drink who in turn bought him one too and soon they were in a strange competition of buying each other drinks that lead them to a drunken state as Gilbert joined in just for the fun of it.
Arthur was contemplating leaving the fools there when he saw her through the corner of his green eye.
She moved with elegance, her hair blond and shiny making him notice pretty shoulders and a thin neck. She irradiates beauty and charm and can't help but be enchanted by her.
Gilbert must also notice the beauty because he stands straight and looks sober than before.
"Ah, my favorite french. She's awesome." Gilbert calls her in and she walks to them with blue eyes and a lovely smile.
"Marianne, come here, mein liebling." She smiles at him and gives him a hug and two kisses. They look like two long time friends.
"You were here and didn't call me?"
"It's work. You know how that is but you have my awesome presence for two days, we can make it worth it." He wiggles his eyes and she laughs.
"Of course. Where's your better half?" She asks and he pouts.
"Why do you always ask for my bruther? He's not as awesome as me."
"But he behaves. He's sweet." She teases and then she notices them.
The rowdy drinking duo and Arthur who watches it all uncomfortably.
"Bonjour. First time in Paris?"
"Why, yes. Does it show?" He asks and her face opens at his accent.
“A rosbif?” she asks Gilbert amused and he frowns.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused. After all you fell on the wrong side of the channel, it must be difficult to finally realize how unfortunate you are.” she grins and while he finds her mirthful blue eyes beautiful he finds her infuriating. Why the hell do the French act like bastards towards the brits?
“You’re the dancing prince, non? The ladies adored you, monsieur.” she tells Alfred who watched her with red cheeks and a small grin on his boyish face.
“Thanks. They took it like champs too. Didn’t think they would know how to dance it.” he admits and she bends towards him leaving a wide view of her bosom. Arthur tried to ignore it but Alfred was failing at doing so, somehow the only one not paying attention to the breasts was Bragisnki who kept drinking with a small smile, the weirdo.
“We’re proficient in delivering anything your heart desires. Am I correct Ivan?” she asks the russian who nods as she winks at him.
“She’s the best in all Europe at delivering.” Gilbert pushes her towards him with an arm around her waist and Arthur finds the possessive gesture distasteful.
“You flatter me, cheri.”
“Oh, you’re a hooker?” Alfred asks shamesly and Arthur his his had making him pout as she watched amused.
“A woman of many virtues.” Gilbert grins when she simply raises one eyebrow at the young blond who looks her up and down before turning his charm on.
"How much for a fuck, beautiful?" Alfred asks, making Ivan laugh as Gilbert rolls his eyes and lets her go.
"I make love mister Jones, I do not fuck."
"I would love you all night long, baby." Alfred grins at and Arthur stands glaring at the blond.
He doesn't want to know . Alfred has a fiance at home. A lovely woman who loves him and he doesn’t even know how lucky he is, the idiot.
Ivan lets him get out of the cramped table and Alfred sighs and excuses himself before following him.
“Artie…” Alfred grabs his arms and he glares at him.His lenses are dirty and he’s still sweaty but sober enough to measure his words and actions.
"I just wanted to know… I mean, I'm in a different country yeah? Maybe the girls are different here." He excuses himself and his eyebrows drop down.
"It's not my business."
"Just… could we keep it between us?" He asks and Arthur nods. It really is not his business what Alfred does or doesn’t do.
The night is over and yet the only thing he remembers clearly is the amusement on those blue eyes when Marianne spoke to him.
They have the day to themselves.
Alfred is sleeping his hungover away and he decides to look around and see what’s so good about this city that makes people waste their money and time on it.
He agrees that there’s a charm to the city the more he watches the buildings as he walks by. The French are a bit rude with their stuck up noses, quick French and smoke but they look just as similar as londoners. They go around doing their chores, they use the tube, or shall he say the metro and they longe around alone or in groups.
The city is well lived and loved, filled with people speaking several languages and the French sit too close to him for no reason which annoys him but still, the good outweighs the bad. He can see the appeal even if it looks like everyone is in a rush and doesn’t appreciate enough what's around.
He gets hungry at noon and decides to eat in a small cafe that doesn’t look overflowing. To do that he strayed from the most touristic part of the town but he felt he could feel more comfortable without so many people around.
He buys a simple sandwich and some tea because the french air makes him feel homesick and when he looks for a place to sit he sees her. Marianne.
She's in the caffe dressed casually with a pretty blouse, a coat on her side, and while he dislikes having strangers sitting at his table he would rather sit near her than with a smelly French so he stops on her table waiting for her to notice him.
She's reading some book with images and as if noticing she's being watched she raises her head and looks at him in surprise before smiling at him.
He motions to the seat with his head hoping his face doesn't look too pleading and she nods with a tired smile.
"Bonjour."
"Hello." He sits and places his cup and sandwich on the table watching their surroundings. He can admit it's a lovely place to stop for a second and just watch people passing by.
She's looking at the book again and he notices it's an art magazine, a fancy one at that which surprises him but he doesn't comment. It 's not his place.
"Alone for once?" She asks still not looking at him and he can feel his cheeks reddening.
"Yes. I had some free time and didn't want to spend it inside some building." He confesses.
"This is not the tourist part though, if you want to see the sights you should try the center of the town." She smirks and he notices her white teeth.
"I'm not here for sightseeing."
"What are you doing here?" She finally looks at him and her blue eyes disarm him.
He's not sure what she means, doing in Paris? Sitting on her table? Watching her?
"Work."
"That 's boring. No one comes to Paris just for work." She pouts and her lips are red but she's not wearing lipstick. He licks his own lips unconsciously.
"Sadly, I have little time for anything else." He shrugs and she watches him intently before standing and holding one hand.
"Come, I'll show you what tourists never see when they come here." She looks devious and a little vulnerable and he can't deny her anything so he swallows his too hot tea and stands without holding her hand. That would be… too much.
"Lead the way."
“And how shall I call you rosbif?” she smirks at him, making him pause.
“Arthur, my name is Arthur.” he says deciding to ignore the taunt.
“Artur.” she nods to herself and he looks at her mischievous eyes..
“You’re not even trying are you?” realizing she speaks english properly and it’s indeed taunting him.
“I have no idea what you mean rosbi-, I mean, Artur.”
“Yes you do Mary.” he says and she laughs wide and cheerfully.
“Oh, il mord.”
He could see her small smile as she led him through the city.
She showed him art stores, libraries and little stores filled with french speaking people. She showed him a small pond with ducks, a small garden with children playing and a small coffee house with the most delicious croissants.
She spoke of the city as if she built it herself, with pride and love and she smoked her cigarette with long fingers and red nails.
He forgot the time, he missed Alfred's calls and he never had so much fun bickering about politics while watching a stupid painting that he didn't understand.
When she finally looked at the sky, her soft hair flowing around her face, her eyes lines with laugh lines and smile wide, he wanted to close their distance and kiss her but he didn't.
They parted their ways and he saw her walking towards the damned bar with a heavy heart.
He completely forgot she’s a whore and he scoffs at himself. A french whore, Arthur, come on.
The French complain a lot, Arthur realizes as they wait in the queue.
Ivan finds it natural, Alfred is amused by it if it's a pretty woman doing the complaining and Arthur finds it distasteful.
He barely knows Marianne but finds himself wondering what she would complain about. The weather? No, that sounds dull and British and she's everything but English. Maybe the socio-political situation since she spoke quite passionately about it during the day.
Maybe she would complain about her clients.
Some of them must be quite forward. After all, the French touch freely and the ones that do go to such establishments are quite rude, he should know.
They end up in the same place with Gilbert. Braginski is nowhere to be seen this time which somehow makes Alfred and Gilbert even more forward and loud.
When she smiles at him across the room he doesn't look away and neither does she. She doesn’t walk to them today and while he gets it because she’s surrounded by males who watch her or touch her, which she takes in stride shoving away the ones who surpass the invisible line of decency, makes him feel a bit uneasy.
She 's tough. He finds himself thinking.
But she touches them back, she bats her lashes and makes them look like fools around her. She knows she’s pretty and it shows in her confidence and while Arthur doesn't really want to he finds himself watching her.
“Don’t even think, Kirkland.” Gilbert turns to him and he looks at him with wide eyes, he almost forgot he was there with someone.
“ Whot?”
“Francine. She doesn’t do relationships. But she’s really good.” he nods meaningfully at him, making him frown and grab his beer.
“I don’t care.” he ends up saying and Gilbert pats his shoulders.
“Everyone falls for her. Trust me, just don’t.” he clinks their beers and leaves early not wanting to drink himself to a stupor in a foreign country.
Arthur wakes up with the sound of his phone.
He curses and groans before trying to read the name but it’s a strange number and he ignores it but just as he’s lying down again the bloody phone rings again.
He grabs it ready to yell at the receiver who woke him up at 2 in the morning.
“Don’t hang up, please, don’t hang up!” he hears Alfred’s voice and he looks at the phone again confused, it is an unidentified number.
“Alfred?” he’s still sleepy and it’s hard to think,
“I need help? I mean, I’m in jail…” he sounds sheepish and Arthur groans.
Of fucking course.
He should know leaving Alfred with Gilbert and booze was a bad idea.
Alfred is unhinged when drunk. He accepts all dares, he thinks idiotic things are hilarious and gets in the middle of fights escalating them further.
He undresses his Rabid shirt and gets dressed prepared to give Alfred the scolding of a lifetime. He fucking hopes Gilbert was not involved in whatever he did.
As soon as he’s in the police station he hits Alfred's chest with a deft punch that makes him moan and pout.
"For fucks sake Alfred, do I have to take you out of jail in every country we go?"
"Sorry… I really am." he looks ashamed this time which is a small comfort.
“Did Gilbert see you do whatever you did?”
Alfred shrugs it off and looks around as if looking for something and Arthur shakes his head.
"Let 's go."
"I gotta find her."
"Who?"
"Marianne." Alfred’s cheeks redden and he’s confused for a second.
“It was my fault really, she told me it was a bad place but I… yeah…”
Understanding reached his brain and he couldn't help feeling betrayed for some reason. He shouldn’t care.
"Sorry." Alfred says softly and he shakes his head at him as he leaves to ask the police officer for her.
It's her work, he knows.
He’ll rather ignore Alfred’s misdeeds for now.
When she’s finally released it’s almost 4am and when she sees them her cheeks redden but keeps her head high.
Alfred apologizes as she glares at him but doesn’t reply and Arthur doesn’t even know if she looks at him because he pointedly ignores them.
“Women.” Alfred complains and he disagrees. The problem is not the women but how men act around them but he keeps quiet, sadly he's done similar shit in the past.
Ludwig arrives in the afternoon and thankfully Alfred looks decent enough. Arthur has one hell of a headache and the weather seems mocking.
“It’s pissing outside, grab an umbrella.” it’s all he says to the young man who does not even grin at the sentence.
“Couldn’t they give us a ride?” he asks and Arthur wants to tell him they can’t demand anything after the stunt he pulled in the night but he doesn’t want to start an argument. He wants to leave the damned city.
Ludwig Beilschmidt looks nothing like his brother. While Gilbert is loud and obnoxious, Ludwig is serious and speaks carefully. He is clear and straight to the point something Arthur appreciates and since Alfred is silent for once the meeting is quick and reaches a mutual agreement soon. Gilbert is watchful and pleased, clearly proud of his brother but still ready to step in if need arises, which never does and Arthur can’t help feeling it’s anticlimactic. All the wait for such a quick agreement.
No demand was overbearing and the merge plan was well studied and even more thorough than what he expected. The few changes he planned to argue for were solved with precision by the Germans which left him with no choice but to agree with almost every single point. Alfred looked clearly bored and Braginki who was there only as a bridge doesn't comment on anything and soon the meeting is over, papers signed and hands shaken.
“I need a beer.” Gilbert says out of the blue.
“I could go for a bite.” Alfred proposes instead which sounds preferable.
Ludwig proposes some sort of establishment nearby, high end but private, and they end up there speaking about Ludwig’s dogs, because Alfred can’t shut up about wanting to see pictures if someone mentions a god and even Braginski looks amused when he talks more quietly with Gilbert.
Arthur doesn’t say much and yet is invited to drinks in the night since Braginki will catch his plane in the morning not being necessary for the final proceedings of the merge.
Unfortunately they end up in the same brothel.
He's quite tired of meetings and listening to Alfred's rants about the French. It seems the cultural shock is finally reaching him. Small mercies.
Marianne is there, of course she’s there.
He feels nauseous for some reason. He shouldn't but he notices how fluent in english she is, he notices she can talk about any subject without faltering. He watches her swaying her hips and notices the soft arch of her leg.
She doesn't belong in the streets. In this place.
Why should he care though?
They gather at a bigger table and she offers Braginski a shot on the house since he's leaving and he flushes at the attention and thanks her earnestly making Alfred furious.
Arthur watches the interaction curiously and is taken back when Alfred, who's had his share of spirits, sneers annoyed.
"Get a room, you two."
She raises one delicate eyebrow and somehow turns to Arthur.
"I'm afraid it is comrade Kirkland's time is it not?" Braginki tells them to take his hand from her arm and Alfred laughs at that, quickly recovering from his jealous fit.
Before Arthur can protest she winks at him leaving him even more flustered.
"He's the better lover of you three."
Arthur watches her confused. He knows both of them slept with her but he didn't. He wouldn't take advantage of her situation.
"What? No way, look at him, he's tiny!" Alfred complains motioning at Arthur.
"Maybe the best things come in small packages."
"The opinion of a whore doesn't matter." Braginski sulks like a child and Alfred nods at him, agreeing for once.
“And there are no gays in Russia, is it not?” she asks him with hard eyes, making the russian curse her in his native tongue as Arthur stands leaving them alone.
He hates them sometimes.
He doesn't get her.
As soon as Arthur reaches the cloakroom he notices her leaving through another door and without meaning to he finds himself following her.
She stands with her back to the wall, her head upwards as if trying to calm down and he looks at his coat before stopping on her side. At least it’s not raining.
"Are you okay?" He hesitantly asks and she nods.
"Dizzy."
"Need some water?"
She shakes her head before pressing her long fingers in her temples. She looks so elegant even dressed in a tight corset and pressed against a dirty wall.
She doesn't belong there, he thinks again and notices her stare.
"Why do I work here?" She asks as if repeating herself and he nods realizing he mumbled the question.
"I apologize, I'm just curious."
"It's a fair question." She shrugs and her locks fall on her cheeks when she looks down in thought.
"It was fun in the beginning. All I had to do was look pretty." She grins at him and while cheerful and mischievous it looks a bit bitter.
"I had a job in the kitchen but I worked hard for nothing and these girls would get money for something I did for free so I gave it a try. You don't really go back from that I guess. “ This time she doesn’t hide the bitter turn on her lips.
“Then it was one day after the other, bills to pay, noy many options and mister Edelstein was nice enough to allow me to pursue arts on the side as long as I kept dancing and earning money."
"I guess I lost my ambition and purpose." She admits and it's an admission she didn't mean to say from the widening of her eyes which made her straighten her shoulders and sigh.
"I must go back."
He nods at her and she looks at him.
"Thank you for caring. There's not many people who do nowadays." She softly smiles before leaving him outside to watch the drunkards loudly jeering at nothing in particular.
He can't help feeling he also followed the motions all his life.
School, work, becoming a ruthless entrepreneur, disposing of people trying to reach the top, reaching the top and realizing there's nothing else to reach, just keep on moving forward.
He wonders what she would say about it but he's not willing to talk about it, a man doesn't disclose such things so he dresses his cloak, ignores the sudden urge to drown his mood in alcohol and tries to get a good night of rest.
He fucking hates his life.
He hopes she doesn't lose the joy she showed him when showing him the city.
Alfred for once behaves, he is at his door at the proper time and even tells him at which time he reached the hotel and that he was not plastered. If he was looking for some sort of approval he doesn’t get it but it doesn’t stop him from trying to be on his best behavior which makes him suspicious.
“Spit it out already, what do you want?” Arthur ends up saying with more bite than he meant and Alfred makes the damned puppy eyes.
“Can we go to Russia?”
“Russia?” he asks because he thought Alfred would never step in the commies soil, as he so cleverly proclaims.
“Ivan was speaking about it yesterday and Gilbert told me he has hot sisters!” Alfred says and he looks so interested that it makes him look at him for a moment before saying.
“What about Maria?”
Arthur didn’t mean to talk about the poor woman, who was waiting for Alfred but he’s acting like a fool and he can’t see him throw away his chance at happiness and Alfred groans before watching him for a moment.
“We broke up.” he says in a small voice and Arthur now realizes that Alfred has been trying to not go home for at least two months. He never said anything, he didn’t even look heartbroken.
“Why?”
“For fucks sake, you sound like my ma… It didn’t work ok? Is that not enough?” he looks pleadingly at him and Arthur nods at him before recalling the request.
“And why would we go to Russia?” he gave Alfred a look but Alfred perked up at that.
“Ludwig says they have a small headquarter in Lithuania, isn’t that like, almost in Russia?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Oh come on, just a little detour? No one will notice, it will be just one more day or travel, easy peasy-”
“No.”
“Fine.” Alfred says and he only looks at him because it’s out of character of him to not press harder then regrets when he sees Alfred’s grin.
“Now you won’t know what Gilbert told me about a certain french woman.” he eyes him from the corner of his eye and Arthur ignores him.
“Oh come on, you want to know. Really, I approve and if I approve it’s good.” he nods sagely.
“Don’t care.”
“Artieeeee.”
“Fine, I’ll try to see what I can do but you’re going with Braginski. At a later time, I mean.” he relents and Alfred makes a happy fist in the air.
“She likes you.” Alfred hits his shoulder and he narrows his eyes.
“Honest to God. Gilbert said so and he knows her.”
Arthur can feel his face reddening, the sudden warmth of his own skin making him uncomfortable.
“Sod off Alfred.”
“She’s pretty and you’re getting old. Besides those things are growing and I’m sure that’s a turn off for woman.” Alfred points at his eyebrows and this time he hits him.
Fucking Jones.
After a long meeting Ludwig and Alfred go to lunch together but Arthur is not in the mood, he’s feeling strangely gloomy when he makes his lone suitcase.
He can’t even understand why since he spent the time wanting to leave the country so why does he feel like he’s missing something when he checks his suitcase again and again?
He gives up and goes outside. He’ll have a last meeting in the morning and he’ll catch the plane in the afternoon, it’s just one hour of travel which he’s used to and yet he’s feeling restless.
He blames Alfred and his loose tongue.
And as if fate wants to punch him in the face he sees her again.
She’s smoking a cigarette and watching the view as if poised facing the wind. He doesn’t mean to pry or watch her but she looks lonely, sad eyes gazing at the river as her hip rests on the rail of the small bridge. She should look ordinary, another french filled with melancholy and yet he can’t help to feel sad when he sees her hunching her back as the wind brushes her hair from her face.
His feet carry him towards her and he stops on her side wanting to see what she sees. It’s lovely out here, the wind on his face, the humidity of the fresh water cooling his hot face, the sun glistening on the soft flow of the water, her rose perfume on his nose.
"Men are hypocrites.” her voice is soft but hard and he doesn’t look at her.
“They all want to sleep with you until the moment they have you. Then it's just another conquest."
He doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t speak, he’s sure he would say something rude or judgemental and he doesn’t want to do so when he can clearly notice a crack in her voice.
"They think they want a prostitute for a girlfriend, oui? Then they ask how many I've slept with. I will reply with a number that will make me feel comfortable but we'll both know it's not the real number.”
He humms. He can see that happening and wonders why she’s telling him this.
“Then you won't stand to see me with anyone. You'll wonder if they slept with me or if they wish to sleep with me.”
He feels her moving on his side and keeps watching the water flowing.
“Then you'll wonder if I'm looser than the average woman. If I'm doing tricks to keep you interested.”
She presses her forehead to his arm and now he watches her blond hair, feels the shiver on the arm that grips the rail
“You'll be disgusted with yourself. But most of all, with me."
She looks up at him and the vulnerability in her gaze makes him flinch. There's a certain sadness in her eyes that tells him she's been through these motions over and over again. That she’s tired, too tired for such motions.
"The end is the same either way, you'll leave or make me dump you." she looks him in the eyes making him think that if anyone’s worth the effort it is her.
With her quick wit, her effortless elegance and beauty. How can he tell her that without sounding empty because he doesn’t know her, even if she opens to him with an honesty that leaves him breathless.
"You could just leave this place." He finds himself saying because why not? It's not as if Paris is the only city in the word, it's not even the nicest in his opinion.
She could start over again, she’s not that old, maybe his own age he thinks. Even if she looks younger her eyes show a tiredness only gained with age.
"You see, Arthur, I have my beauty and I have Paris." She smiles and looks around them, at the people passing by, the river, the cars, then at him.
"Soon it'll be all I have." She says with a soft sigh and he wants to slap her because how can she think she'll lose her beauty? How dare she think Paris is prettier than her with her grace and sophistication?
Without her Paris has no interest.
"Do us a favor, go home and remember me as I look now." She smiles and presses one kiss to his cheek and he holds her there, lips pressed to his cheek, body closer than ever.
"You're wrong." Arthur says and it's soft and low, as if unwilling to argue with her but doing it anyway.
He feels her breath on his cheek, her warmth on his body, her breasts and curves. He wants to feel them forever and yet he lets her go. He can’t think properly when she’s nearby and it bothers him deeply.
"You are worth more and you could have more."
She's looking at him and she looks unsure for once. He hates it. Hates that he was the one making her look less than sure.
"Start anew. If you need to, I’ll help.” he tells her and finds that he means it. Maybe Alfred is rubbing off on him with his outrageous hero talk.
Once he was rather ruthless and unfair but he likes to think he turned out okay.
“Thank you, British angel.” Her voice is soft and her eyes distant as he allows her to move from him.
He feels cold.
She walks away with soft steps.
He leaves the country and doesn’t understand why people like Paris that much.
He feels that Paris chewed him and spit him out. He hates it.
Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!
I love this meme and decided to do it but... I’ll just post a pic so you can see this is all true... I’m a mess and muse on vacation... Damn so many things to write and so little will to actually finish them at the moment.
Hetalia
Al birthday
Alien AU
Alpha Alpha
Blind AU
cinderella AU
cops AU
crappy au
doctor verse
drabbles on going (wips --’)
easy (fruk)
elemental powers
long distance au
ordinary lives au
pirate verse au
let me know you
pottertalia crap (also known as Mirrors the one that will never be finished)
requests (yes I have 2 requests that were never finished yet they are here so I will do them)
soldiers au
underground series
Feel free to ask me about any of these if you’re curious! :D
They are all RusAme or Fruk.
If you’re interested, please do consider yourself tagged and let me know if you do it! <3
He tried, once, a long time ago but he guesses he was misunderstood.
After all, his communication powers are best put into arguments and manipulation not… feelings.
There was a time where he could speak his mind.
He is not sure when that was or where but there must be a time where he could express his desires, dreams and hopes or he wouldn’t feel thing longing for that self-expression.
He dreamt of building a home.
Place every single stone together, design its will into the house with bare hands. Paint the walls in vivid colours before placing swings and tired for the children to play on the backyard.
His skin would peel and muscles ache from the strain but he would look at that house as his house.
His future.
Nowadays he’s just tired.
He sits and watches the terrain with something bitter inside himself.
He doesn’t want to become bitter but he feels himself getting to that stage and thinks of Arthur.
He really doesn’t want to become like the old man. Even Francis has given up on him.
His teeth clench and hands grip the dirt with some sort of rage.
He can feel them.
Feelings.
They swirl on his gut, press on his temples making his head hurt.
It’s all right. It will pass.
It will pass.
It will…
He’s not sure but will pretend until he makes it.
Always worked out before, not a single reason to deny him that small kindness.
He would like to get rid of those feelings inside of him.
All of them.
All the questions, doubts, desired.
He feels a bit insane but his feet keep bringing him to this place.
He almost smells him when he sits against the big tree. The shade almost feels as comforting as his presence. Big, imposing.
He almost mutters the words he could so easily say but Ivan wouldn’t hear them.
Alfred doesn’t want him to listen to such weakness. Such feeble effort at expression.
But if he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend Ivan is there, on his side, a pleasant weight against his arm.
The more he thinks the more he feels he’s not sure on his decision.
He could have all that with Ivan, right?
He doesn’t know.
Ivan is not good at expressing himself either.
He was so sure he wouldn’t miss the guy. So damn sure.
Between them was just a thing with no name. They never needed a label, it would only complicate things.
But he wants stability, to be held and hold somebody.
To fill this terrain with life and love.
Pretend he never failed his country and people.
But Ivan left.
Ivan fucking left.
Listened Alfred’s half heartened attempts at expressing himself and concluded that Alfred was right, they are better apart.
Idiot.
He never agrees with Alfred, why would he do that now?
Why agree with him now?
Does he even understand what he’s done?
He pierced Alfred’s chest with nails and sunk into the flesh until his small heart was snug inside that cold hand.
Then he ripped it off.
There was no blood, no yells, nothing. Just the feeling of loss and shock.
Disappointment growing and anger not even daring to manifest.
Alfred watched him leave with slow steps. Not unsure, not heavy just slow.
He wishes he could have his heart back.
Some kind of thing is growing on him and he guesses he’s going slightly mad.
Maybe loneliness makes you lose your mind. Maybe being stole the only thing you cherish makes you realise you never had anything to begging with.
His butt is sore for sitting for too long and he is sure he never felt so tired on his young/long life.
He sees the sun light and can’t handle the mocking rays of warmth. He feels so cold.
He should catch some plane and go to Russia just to punch his face.
He feels too exhausted to even stand so he keeps sitting underneath that tree.
Ivan kissed him there once.
He was so unsure and Alfred could feel the slight tremble of his fingers on his face.
Alfred felt to happy. So glad.
He is not sure if he’ll feel like that again and hates Ivan for stealing him that.
Stupid man.
Stupid uncaring idiot!
He doesn’t even know if he ever cared for him. Doesn’t know him anymore.
He’s not sure he ever knew him.
Who the hell strips you from your dignity, changes all perceptions of the world and life then leaves him like this?
Alfred tries to explain. They just need to think properly about this. After all it’s not only their lives, it’s everyone’s. They have a duty, they have…
“No.” he’d say. “This is our life, no one else.” his voice almost sounded disappointed.
It’s not.
He feels like drinking but he doesn’t even care to leave that place. It’s his safety zone.
Neutral, old and empty, just like his chest.
He never cared about anyone but himself. Sure, he wants to help everyone but he cares for a selected few. Ivan was one of those.
Ivan was the ‘few’.
Now he just… left.
“I wouldn’t mind lose myself in the stars if you were with me.” Ivan once said.
That day was so cold, a space crew almost lost in the deep space but saved in time and Alfred had to help. Ivan looked so lost and scared, young yet sure when their eyes met.
How foolish he was, to think he meant it.
He should know better than to believe in those ideas of love. Arthur had warned him they would be his fall, Ivan agreed with a sad smile.
Ivan never knew how to express himself properly but he would read him poetry. It almost felt like he was reading pages of his own heart to Alfred.
Felt like Ivan was willingly ripping those pages and handing them to him until he got nothing left inside of him.
And how lovely were those words. How utterly devastating was his heart that open, unsure but willing.
Only to steal his own away.
Alfred wants to laugh.
He would kill him if he could.
Give him all those illusions.
That’s what he misses, obviously. The illusion.
The idea of them, the stars, the house, the children, the eternal life filled with-.
No.
Alfred will never fall again for such foolish notions.
Ivan can keep his heart. It was corrupted by him.
His propaganda was good, his manipulation rooted and blinding him.
Alfred is glad he never uttered a word of love to that man, this way he’ll never know.
He’ll never know how low Alfred fell when he left.
He’ll never knew the poison he injected on his veins with his mere presence.
He moves his body slightly, even his legs are cramping.
He tries not to weep at the loss of the imaginary life he created on his mind.
A life with him.
A life…
His eyes burn and he smiles letting the tears run through his face.
He’s too tired to fight them so he lets them fall.
Tomorrow he’ll be back. The enthusiastic man will be back.
Alfred always comes back.
And now, he’ll never commit the same mistake.
Ivan can keep it, he won’t need a heart anymore.
He just hopes it explodes on his hand and takes him with him.
imakemywing and i have been talking about sense8/hetalia crossovers and this came...
I OWN NOTHING! Not hetalia, nor sense8 nor mcdonald’s.
Alfred and Ivan
Alfred was late but Melanie was a dear and covered for him so he got the quietest shift time at McDonald’s. Which is rather nice since he's tired as hell.
Being a student and working at a fast food enterprise store was not the most fulfilling thing Alfred ever thought of doing but he had to gain money and his brother explicitly told him he would give him to the cops if he hacked again. So... here he is, working a shitty job at shitty hours as Melanie keeps talking about her boyfriend's nasty friends.
He was looking at nothing through the window complaining at the hot weather when he sees him.
A tall man dressed with a long coat and a scarf looking at him. The moment he blinked the man was gone and Alfred shook his head.
The heat was making him delusional yet he can't shake the feeling that he knows that person.
He shrugs and smiles broadly at the costumer who tries to decide what to eat.
When his shift finishes he goes home and since it's hot he decided to take a cold shower.
His brother is somewhere in his room probably smoking some pot from the smell of the flat but he shrugs it off and runs to his small room to get some clothing ready.
He twists his neck and sighs taking his shirt and throwing it to the ground, he'll get it later. Then he proceeds to take a look at himself in the mirror.
His hair is greasy from the grill fumes, he hates that but he's not looking bad. The small pimple on his hairline is gone and- there's a face on his mirror staring at him. It's the same man he saw when he was at work and he blinks. The man is gone and he is staring at his own blue eyes.
He cleans the lenses of his glasses and puts them on again watching the mirror suspiciously but nothing happens and he sighs.
Damn heat, he's starting to see things. He really needs to take a shower.
Ivan loves to be with his sister but father, well, father is not fond of them spending too much time together since she's getting married and he's a grown adult.
Still, he misses his sister, she's the only family he has besides his father and unlike him, she is rather sweet to him.
She is eating some soup in front of him talking about the wedding plans. He is rather happy for her. Vladimir is rather rich and owns many businesses which will be good for their own business and provide a rather good life for his sister and children.
He can't wait for her to have kids. She will be the best mother and he can't help think he will be a rather nice uncle.
"But father said I can't invite Victor." She says sadly and interrupts his thinking.
"Why not?" He frowns rather surprised. Victor is a good friend and business partner of father. He was the man she was supposed to marry at some point yet father decided the man was not good for her and cut all contacts. Ivan rather liked the man, he would be much better to his sister and he got along with him.
"You know..." She murmurs with sad eyes and Ivan clenches his teeth.
"Is it because of what he thinks? Victor is not gay, we were quite close I would know." Ivan says in a low tone and she licks her lips.
"Vanya... I think he doesn't want you both to get in contact with each other." She murmurs and he can see her eyes getting red and wet but he doesn't care.
"Why? He was my best friend! I don't even care if he's gay or not!" Ivan's voice is low and earnest and she looks down placing her spoon on the table.
"Father cares. I'm sorry Ivan." She murmurs and Ivan stands up going to the bedroom getting his bag to go home.
When he steps inside the room is not a room but a bathroom with the shower working on. He steps inside looking around and sees a naked blonde under the water.
"Why are you in my house?" He asks frowning and the man turns around with a loud scream.
"What? OMG! WHY ARE YOU IN MY BATHROOM?" The blond yells and closes the water trying to cover his privates at the same time.
"I'm not!" Ivan plainly stated and the man looks at the towel rack as if it would get to him by sheer mind power.
"I'm naked don't look!" The blond says and Ivan frowns. Well, this is new.
He is quite comfortable with male anatomy and being naked around said males.
"Should I turn around?" He asks flushing a bit not knowing what to do.
"YES" the man says but Ivan keeps staring at the man trying to hold the towel around himself clumsily.
"Okay don't turn but... the fuck you doing in my bathroom?" The man turns to him, wet and glaring at him and Ivan frowns looking around not recognizing the bedroom as his sister's one.
"I'm not I... where am I?"
"My bathroom." The man looks at him as if he's insane and Ivan presses his fingers to his forehead. His head is hurting.
"No. I was... I was in my sister's guestroom."
"No, you're in... a room?" Alfred blinks and looks around seeing a small room with a bag above the neatly made bed.
"See, bedroom." Ivan says frowning and steps aside as the man goes to his side.
"Hum... how the fuck did I came here?" He asks but his voice is more subdued and Ivan shrugs his broad shoulders.
"I don't know. "
"It's fucking freezing here! God." He complains shivering and Ivan looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, you assaulted my house so I won't give you clothes. You can leave like that." He smiles pleasantly and both blink and look around.
"What but... shit... my head hurts... now we're in my bathroom..." The blond says sighing.
"Well... is rather warm in here." Ivan murmurs confused.
"Of course it is! We're in California." Alfred states
"What?"
"Yeah, it's spring and the weather is crazy. God, get out of my bathroom." He says reminding himself of his nakedness and the other eyes widden.
"I was in Russia."
"What?" He stops and looks at the man walking to him with narrowed eyes. "Are you real?"
"I... I am. Are you real?" Ivan asks and sees the blond raising his hand. He imitates the gesture and their fingers touch. He can feel them.
The blond gasps and steps back.
"Holy shit you are real!"
"So are you..." Ivan looks at his own fingers curiously and the man looks at him frowning.
"What's your name?"
"Ivan Braginski."
They look at each other and Alfred open's his mouth to talk but he looks away.
"I'm okay."
"Are you?" Ivan asks and the man turns to him gaping.
"What's happening?" He asks and suddenly Ivan is on the bedroom and Alfred alone in the bathroom.
"Alfred, who are you talking to?" Alfred's brother asks from the other side of the door and Alfred looks around searching for the other male.
"Hum.. No one?" He asks and opens the door. His brother eyes are reddish from the weed but he is looking at Alfred concerned.
"Alfred?"
"Did you saw some guy leaving the bathroom?" He asks and Matthew laughs.
"You wish! Go sleep Al." He murmurs and leaves him blinking at the bathroom.
No warnings. I never wrote spamano. Thanks for asking.
Antonio likes to eat. He really does.
You wouldn’t say such for looking at him but he keeps a good balance of physical work and eating. Which makes him a little bit annoying for Lovino.
Lovino doesn’t mind eating. He is just as hungry as any man but sometimes he wonders were all that food goes. Then there’s that thing.
The thing is, Antonio eating everywhere.
He is sure he even saw him eating something while preparing a bath if you can imagine so.
Then he likes to spice it up in bed with what? FOOD!
Lovino is a little bit tired of that shit.
Sure Chocolate melting on his skin is lovely, ice cream on his nipples is simply a dream but damn not cookies.
Today Antonio decided to place cookies above his chest deciding it was a good lunch and Lovino is not amused.
First Antonio looks silly. Then there’s the crumbs… ON HIS BED!
His beautiful bed with clean sheets that he was the one changing due the last night events.
He doesn’t want to but he has to do something to stop the man.
Not that he doesn’t enjoy the attention or the hot body of his Spaniard laid on his bed for him to ravish, he just dislikes crumbs on his sheets!
“You’re getting crumbs all over my bed” his voice is loud and his face flushed with anger but how can he know that? he can only think on the fucking cookies falling on the sheets as Antonio gets up.
“Lovi, I thought you wanted lunch.” he says with a wide smile and Lovino can’t help to repeat himself.
“You’re getting crumbs all over my fucking bed!” he narrows his eyes and Antonio’s face falls .
“Oh… I can clean.” he murmurs looking sad and Lovino feels like a dick but huffs and sits on the bed.
“I have crumbs on my bed.” he murmurs trying to get his temper in check and feels Antonio sliding to his side, his breath close to his ear.
“Cariño, Forgive me.” he murmurs and of course Lovino forgives him, still he’s pissed at having his sheets filled with crumbs.
“Next time I’ll go to my room instead?” Antonio offers and he looks at him.
How can he be mad to that puppy eyes and dramatic hand touching his chest.
“I want a good dinner in compensation.” he murmurs and sees Antonio’s eyes open and narrow in mischievousness.
Lovino already regrets his proposition but Antonio brings a cookie to his mouth and he bites it reminding himself that will be Antonio cleaning that crap later.
Francis had the habit of looking outside the window after dinner.
Sometimes he grabs a glass of wine and sits on the chair thinking about something Arthur can’t really understand nor needs to. It’s his own moment, his self-indulging moment of philosophical questions that he’d rather keep to himself than share.
Arthur doesn’t mind. Some things are best to keep to themselves and he knows that whatever Francis is thinking about is private.
For a man as outgoing as Francis is, he holds many secrets close to heart.
Arthur was once one of them, or so Francis tells him before proclaiming that a single day in which he couldn’t be with him or look at him was a day of grieving, of rain and thunder.
Dramatic git. He is quite fond of bad weather but Francis likes sunny days and spring time where everything blossoms and the air is filled with renovation and growing light.
Still, he saves that moment every single day to think. Arthur gave up of using that time for something useful due the fact that Francis gets bitter and cranky.
“I need to remind myself sometimes of things.” Francis told him once gesturing vaguely around himself and turning to the window leaving him to clean the table.
He understands, he does but hates that he looks so much in pain sometimes. His eyes get sad, his eyebrows frown, his lips keep getting bitten and even his hair falls around his face as if hiding him from the world. Yet, his gaze keeps on the sky, far away from the window.
Arthur lets him be most times but sometimes he can’t simply see the man he always seeks to see the beauty in the world around them, look so devastated, so hurt.
Today he bites his lip so hard he can see it bruise from the distance, he can see his cheeks hollowing in anger as sometimes they do before he sighs and keeps biting the lip.
Arthur knows he needs to stop the man from getting in a sad mood. He gets like that sometimes too. Only Arthur gets to see it though, too much pride and arrogance to allow such private moments to be public.
He feels honoured for that and his heart warms making him walk to Francis slowly.
Francis doesn’t seem to realize he’s close so he places his hand on his shoulder, small, bony yet comforting in a way. Or so he tries it to feel like that. He’s not that good portraying what he wants sometimes.
“Stop biting that fucking lip!” his voice his low and not angry. Just resigned as Francis looks up at him with a small smile.
“Thank you cher.” He murmurs and presses his face up making Arthur shake his head and bend his own to press his lips to bruised ones.
“Is enough for today.” He murmurs against the lips and feels Francis tongue touching his own softly.
“It is.” He agrees and his blue eyes open as his hand pressed to Arthur’s face.
Arthur presses one finger to the lower lip feeling the bear prickling his palm reminding him that Francis is not as fragile as he looks sometimes and he gives a small smile at that.
“Want to go to bed?” Arthur asks as casually as he can making his green eyes look up to blue and feels Francis smile on his finger, his breath smelling like wine on his nose.
“With you? Always.” He grins and pushes Arthur to himself making Arthur hit him on his arm for being, well, himself.
Still, he would never trade him. Thoughtful moments, bitten lips and all.
RUSAME Omegaverse cabin nations AU that no one needed but is basically pwp. With omega Russia ovb. (changed title)
Rated E for explicit sex and internalized self hatred.
Thank you for reading
.
Ivan feels someone following him.
He tried to mislead the person following him yet he was not having such luck. He knows it's a nation, he can feel the nation's aura on his skin, the steps heavy and unnatural on his land.
He shakes the feeling of intrusion off. He's not at war, it's pure paranoia but it leaves him uneasy. His actual state makes him even more wary than usual. Pre-heat always makes him scared. He hates that feeling.
He tries to ignore the scared part of his mind and hopes the nation realises he's not up to something and leaves him alone. The presence it's too close and he doesn’t want to deal with whoever is following him. He has a suspicion that's America and it enrages him which makes him take deep breaths and will himself to ignore him as much as possible.
America always was a nosy one.
He keeps walking somewhat in circles and he is patient on his stroll. If it is the American he will get bored and impatient.
He does not.
Ivan is getting tired and he feels his head slightly dizzy. The hateful heat is coming and he can't allow himself the time to indulge whoever it is on their silly shenanigans.
He walks to the cottage. He will take care of who it is soon enough, besides he has a new gun awaiting to premier.
As soon as he walks inside his cabin, simple and not very furnished there's a knock on his door and he opens it rolling his eyes.
America, of course. He should win something every time the nation gets on his way.
"What the hell are you doing here?" The man asks as if he had the right to ask in neutral land and Ivan looks at him dispassionately.
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that?"
"No. What are you up to? Let me in! What are you hiding this time!?" He pushes inside with a strong press of his shoulder on his own and Ivan shudders hating the man a little bit more than before.
Perhaps not hating but certainly not amused.
"Get out." He turns and looks at the blond hair mess messing around his little furniture.
"No. What are you doing here in the middle of nowhere? And don't tell me it's none of my business!" He adds with a accusing finger pointed at his face and Ivan wants to punch him.
"I'm on vacation. Now leave." He tells losing patience. The boy should not test him. Not really.
"You don't take vacations." He looks furious and certain.
"How would you know that?" He counters making the American sputter and flush.
"I just do."
Ivan silently looks at him emanating what he hopes to be an intimidating look but Alfred looks non pulsed and starts walking to the stairs. Ivan has to stop the hurricane from defiling his safe place.
Really he should not be here and leaving all his alpha scent all over the place. It's disturbing and Ivan feels nauseated at the thought of thinking he smells good. He may smell like a beautiful day on a lovely garden but he is America. He is not good.
"Stop." He makes himself bigger and places himself in front of the stairs.
"You are not allowed here. Go away before I make you." He warns and he trembles in fury and slight self conscience of his scent. He knows any alpha will smell something at this stage.
"Why not?" He asks and suddenly he is sniffing the air paling.
"You dirty nasty creep! Are you holding an omega hostage!?" He demands and Ivan has to placate him with a hand on his chest.
He swallows hard and this close Alfred must feel him shaking. His scent spiking. Not even the perfume with alpha scent, Natalia's scent, he used will hide it now.
Blue eyes stop looking at the stairs and look at him. The paleness turns to a reddish tone that spreads through his face and Ivan flushes in turn. He could deny his predicament and tell he really has some omega waiting for him but he is aware that America already realised what really is happening.
The young nation steps back and it's the first time Ivan saw the man doing such an action. He never backs down. An alpha never does so.
"It's you?" He tries to hide the shock under some sort of indifferent mas but Ivan can only nod and turn his head to the side.
He knows what the American is thinking, how can He, Russia, who is masculine as they can be and not a little bit submissive be a lowly male omega?
He can't bear to watch this. Now everyone will know and they will laugh of him. Tease him. Weaken him through something he can't chose
All because of his biological needs. He hates it. He hates the judgement the man is already making and he wants to push him out and probably hide inside his nest for the rest of his immortal life.
Weak. Stupid. Worthless-
"I never realised." The man startles him and looks at him as if he figured something out and Ivan tries to push himself tall again.
"It's not something I intend to disclose." He grunts fully aware of the other smell spiking and responding to his own. It's soft. Much more restrained than he would give America credit for.
"Why?" He asks so sincerely that Ivan almost believes that an alpha could care.
They don't. They are overwhelmed with the need to take, to breed and own.
Ivan feels something flutter on his belly at the thought.
America, beautiful Alfred taking him, under him or above him, strong neck flushed in pleasure as its veins pop out with the strain. Blue eyes looking only at him with pleasure.
He swallows and America walks away swallowing. Ivan watches the throat moving, adam's apple visible and displayed for his own... inferno.
It's hell to have an alpha on his safe place, to feel wetness on his pants spreading uncomfortably. The idiot must know what he is doing to him... Surely he smells it all over them.
"Who else knows?" He asks and it almost seems possessive to Ivan. Probably hormones making his urgent needs deviate from reality.
"Sisters, France, China, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Prussia and a few others." He replies truthfully wanting him just to leave but the man looks at him intently.
"France?"
"I had a thing for him... It's a wonder how he never made it his duty to tell everyone in Europe." Ivan tries to rolls his shoulders but they are stuck. He was quite impressed by France's discretion on the matter, usually a nation would use it to it's advantage yet he denied Ivan and told him 'Omegas are worth much more than you think.'
Ivan never understood well its meaning but it made him cry and he ashamed of it closed himself with his sisters. It hurt. France was not even an alpha. Shameful to be denied like that.
Bitterness makes him frown and his groin hurt. It almost hurts as much as his chest.
The discomfort starts to hurt before turning into need and Ivan looks at the stairs longingly.
"Are you... ok?" America asks and he looks at him as he stays away enough to look at his face and Ivan can feel his flesh flushed and sweaty.
"You need to go away." He adds with a grunt that was as threatening as low and America, Alfred, looked almost concerned.
"You reek. Someone may pass by and smell it." He adds with a growl of his own and Ivan whimpers at the strength of it.
"If you don't open your big mouth no one will know!" He adds stepping once to show his own strength and saw Alfred step back again even as his eyes were hard. At least he still has his imposing stature.
"I wouldn't use this against you." He gestures to Ivan and he scoffs.
"Besides, I followed you. I'll take responsibility." He tells in a commanding voice and Ivan can imagine him using it for something much more useful...
"Russ-," he stops and swallows hard, "Ivan, I can't leave you here all alone with a clean conscience."
" You shall." He adds and Alfred looks at him biting his lip.
"You know I can't... I promise to just stay and look out for you." Alfred started with a soft voice probably meant to soothe him but it only angered him.
"I don’t need protection!"
"I know you don't but if someone comes by they will need." He says testily yet with a certain security that made Ivan sneer at him.
He is despairing and losing the fight and both know. His mind is not his own but a slave.
"Fool." He is not sure to whom he is referring to.
"I won't go near you." He promises with a small smile and Ivan moves to sit on the sofa thinking.
"I need to help... you know how the scent is affecting me... " he tries again making his eyes big and hopeful and Ivan only nods his consent before closing his own eyes.
What has he done? He allowed the alpha to stay and protect his fucking cottage?
He is losing his mind. He is sure is the fucking heat making him crave protection and care but he feels disgusted with himself. He is insane!
Russia doesn’t need protection. He's a strong, capable country. A strong man, stronger than most, bigger and powerful. He intimidates enemies and controls his life with a grip that leads no doubts to who is in power.
Still, he said yes to those fucking blue eyes.
He tries to remain calm, to get his mind clearer. He is sure Alfred is doing the same. Beings, not nations for a while. How long as it been since they sat near just as … themselves?
Alfred looks at him sideways, almost as if unsure and Ivan wants to laugh. The confident alpha looking like a conflicted child. Any other day he would taunt him but he feels his body trembling and his scent giving off arousal hints and he moves away to drink something.
He is restless and it will begun soon. He wants to go upstairs. He wants to stay. He wants...
"Do you need something? I can go grab food or something...?" The American sounds concerned and Ivan grips his glass harder than needed, his fingers whitening with the pressure.
"No. I have everything I need." He says loudly enough and bites his tongue to prevent the need to say 'except a alpha fucking me'.
Alfred doesn't say a word and he feels glad for it. He should leave to the room, lock himself up and wait patiently for the heat to hit fully yet his manners and pride prevent him from doing so.
"Do you need something? You will be alone for a while. I don't know if there's enough for two." He nods at the kitchen trying to change subject and Alfred looks at him with a shrug.
"If needed I can go grab something. Is not as if I will be stuck here inside as you... you know." He mumbles and blood rushes to his cheeks giving them a soft pink look.
"It would be... weird." He adds and Ivan just stares down at him hoping that the alpha regrets his offer and simply go away. Even if he will surely feel it harder than with his scent around.
"And I am sure I can handle it! Francis taught me everything I needed and I know how tough it can be to an omega be all alone during this." He looks proud of himself and Ivan wants to sneer at the thoughts that invade his mind. They tell him Alfred is cute, Alfred is sweet, Alfred wants to take care of him. Alfred wants him. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred.
Ivan turns away cringing his nose and tries to breathe.
The room is smelling like alpha. He feels the scent wanting to hug him, to caress his needy skin.
He coughs and swallows.
"Is dangerous for an alpha be near. You can still reconsider and leave with your pride untainted." He says seriously and Alfred stands from the sofa.
"No dude! I can help you and you're the one that believes in all that equality crap so... If you can handle this so can I!" He states proudly and Ivan sighs in relief for some ungodly reason.
He never realised that it was a challenge of wills until now and he blames his stupid foggy mind for it. Of course America would turn it into a competition to see who leaves this affair in better conditions.
Idiotic, he is sure his beta parental figures should have taught him better but no. Idiots all of them.
His stomach gives a nasty pinch and he trembles before turning around and trying to collect his thoughts.
Early. Too soon. It's the alpha pheromones around him making the heat unravel and take over.
"I need to go now. Don't dare to go upstairs!" His voice sounds too rough and breathy and he doesn't look at Alfred who surely caught on the scent and must look hungry and oh so sexy wanting to devour him.
With shaky limbs he almost runs to the room and locks it safely. 7 locks in place and he makes sure to put the side table in front of the door. He's desperate and hoping that they will hold still if he tries to get down and shame himself begging for it.
That boy someday will be his death!
He waits as he feels his hole preparing himself against his will. Wetness slides outside him and he feels so empty.
Unwanted, unloved. Strange nation who was cursed to be an omega. Hell even his sisters are alphas.
He wants to punch something.
Omegas are beings made for reproduction reasons. The survival of the species was long gone and only nations remain with that genetic code. It's unreal to Ivan. Not fair at all.
He suffered so much, he grew so strong yet he still grows weak every once in a while. His ass wants to be touched, filled. His heart hurts and soul cries to be filled. He hates mother nature.
Mother nature who allows some countries do develop other sub species, other status and change through time. England was an alpha once, now a beta. He wishes he could be a beta.
He doesn't even care about being an alpha. Anything but an omega yet he will always be one.
Mother Russia. Omega. Can't bear children yet wants to be fucked as a bitch!
He screams and runs towards his nest, the sheets and pillows feel scratchy on his sensitive skin.
He could change everything but no one wants an omega like him. He wouldn't want himself and he feels the emptiness growing. It feels so dark.
The hole in his soul is a gapping wound. It throbs, presses and makes him feel empty. When his heat is approaching it feels it with more intensity. He feels so alone in a world filled with beings and he swallows the lump on his throat trying to keep himself together.
He hates to feel like this, he is sure no alpha feels like this. It's a defective, another defective, part of being an omega.
He hates it so much. It makes him crave company, crave touch, crave something to fill the emptiness.
He hates that sometimes he can only think about submitting to another, to be as weak as he is.
He's so weak and he hates it. He doesn't want all those emotions, hormones and disgusting fluids falling from inside him yet they do.
He nuzzles his nose on the pillows knowing he will lose grip on reality soon and hopes it passes quickly.
The fucking smell doesn't leave his nose though and he whimpers in despair.
Fucking American always meddling what he doesn't should.
He spent so much time trying to find a new place for this to happen without witnesses and the young idiot does this. The rage makes it hurt more.
He tries to breathe and calm down. His legs shake and his chest moves quickly. His tights feel wet and he cringes in disgust before feeling another pang inside his groin as sleek slides through his soaped skin.
He hates it so much and growls in frustration.
The smell is there taunting him.
Leave. His mouth screams as his hormonal mind begs Alfred to 'come inside, please, take me before I go mad'.
He feels tears on his eyes and they burn his eyelids.
He always wants to give up when he tries to hide on the nest, so alone, so empty, so tired.
Sometimes he even wonders if he should allow Natalya to breed him.
How ashamed of those thoughts he feels yet the despair is so hard he can't help but wonder if submitting would be better than this hell.
There are few nations omega but he knows Italy is one and he is very at easy with himself and his status. He's so proud of his biology, of his caring nature and Ivan envies him. Wishes he could embrace his nature as italy does.
He can't.
He can't bear the thought of someone overpower him, use something as his biology to weaken him. He's so scared, so angry. He knows he's no good like this.
Not a good omega, not a good example. Not a good provider. Not a good nation.
Never good enough. All because of his nature.
He cries harder and blames it on his hormonal changes. His mind starts to wonder further.
He's not quite aware of the fading environment around him and he starts to calm down as lust grows instead of disgust.
He hates these changes but they are better than the self pity and he throws his head back allowing his scent to spike and surround him.
Fully aroused and in head yet he can still scent a small bitterness on the air.
Alpha.
He shudders and sighs pressing his hand harder on his shaft before stroking it.
It smells like angel, like sun, like someone pushing him down and kissing him. Someone stronger taking him, wanting him, desiring him.
Smells like something his suppressants usually don't allow him to smell. The raw power of an alpha.
It invades his mind, his body and he gasps rubbing his sleek ass into the sheets.
He bites a pillow and suddenly smells it near. So close.
Arousal. He smells arousal. Alpha, consuming, vibrant, strong.
There's a knock on his door that barely reaches his fogged mind.
"Are you sure you're ok?" The voice sounds breathy and unsure. If he was more aware of himself he could hear the curiosity and restraint. He would also punch the alpha for coming so close to him.
He can't so he just whimpers and groans pushing a finger inside himself.
He flushes knowing how shameless he's feeling, acting.
'Weak. Whore. Filthy error of nature-.' He can hear it distantly on his mind. Ghosts from the past and the scent is so invading, so good that he forgets all ghosts and can only focus on alpha. Alpha. Alfred.
"Alfred..." His mouth says without him wanting and he wants to fight the door to allow the American in his bed, his nest, his body.
"Ru-Ivan... I don't think... I should leave." He can faddily listen a head hitting wood and a sound of a fist on his wall but he just shivers.
"Do you need something before I leave?" He asks with a growl that makes Ivan burry his head on the pillow before biting it in need.
Power, alpha.
Every single thought on his mind goes to the men who's strength is legendary. He could make Russia fight hard for his prize and lose. Raw young power.
"Please..." He murmurs between Russian incoherent words and he knows, he knows it's wrong. He shouldn't. Leave please.
'Stay. Leave.' His mind battles and his body moves to feel some touch yet is not enough. Never enough.
"Ivan... If I go there I can't..." The voice sounds too muffed but the scent is there, is aroused because of his own scent and Ivan wants to reach the door. He stays still. His cock throbbing and ass leaking.
"Yes-don't-, Alfred...I... please..." He is not sure what he is asking for and feels the ground shaking. Alfred pounded the door down, losing control over biology and inner desire.
Ivan instead of feeling scared was feeling thrilled, aroused, and so glad. 'Oh please, thank you!' He thought to a god above who sent him this strong alpha who will regret everything but looks, smells, so needy as Ivan feels. He will also regret it, he already is but the look on Alfred's face is so intense he can barely breathe.
Alfred steps are slow, restrained and his limbs shake as his hands clench tight. His eyes are fogged and he lost his glasses somewhere. Ivan gasps at the growl Alfred makes when he smells the room and leaves his own arousal scent loose. Unconsciously his body is pleading to be filled. Consciously Ivan is worrying about his own safety, his own sanity. They shouldn't but the smell... Oh how wonderful.
He never smelt anything like Alfred, never felt such a rush of power and arousal making his legs trembling.
"Ivan... God." He murmurs watching the naked omega, so big and aroused between a huge nest of sheets pillows and soft blankets. He looks like a painting of some European renaissance movement and Alfred internally snorts at the comparison. He's going mad.
Ivan whimpers and grabs the sheets trying to keep himself still.
Alfred thinks he likes how mad he's feeling. It leaves a rush of something that warms his body, makes his cock twitch and his nose to inhale deeply.
"You don't want this." Ivan states with a conviction he never felt and his body is asking for Alfred so hard he can't barely word the sentence correctly but it leaves his mouth somehow.
"Oh, I wanted this for a long time..." Alfred says nostrils flaring and as soon he's in front on Ivan he kneels and touches his naked leg.
Ivan gives a wrecked sound and Alfred growls before kissing him roughly, sloppily and too harshly.
It's all Ivan ever wished while on heat and he presses back grabbing Alfred and pushing him to himself.
Alfred, strong, oh god, amazing Alfred doesn't allow Ivan to manhandle him and forces Ivan to accept his pace, he kisses hungrily and his teeth scrape the pale skin of his neck and collar, his big hands grab his ass and touch his wetness with a growl and Ivan submits.
Ivan never felt someone as powerful, as in sync with him as now. A far away thought tells him that America is the only one who can meet him halfway, who is equal in strength and the thought makes his heart beat harder against his ribcage. He almost feels his heart falling out but he doesn't, he simply beats harder, pumps more blood to his aroused body.
Alfred's mouth is on his chest and he grabs his hair, it's soft and wet from sweat and Ivan keens pushing him up to kiss his flushed face, his bitten lips, the bulging veins of his neck. Alfred simply grabs him harder, bruising and presses harshly his erection against his soft body scratching his skin.
The clothes are taken in a blur, Ivan is not aware of what is happening until there's a mouth on his tights licking and biting the sensitive skin with care and pressure that leaves him insane.
Ivan wasted all those years afraid that no one could match him, desire him, and Alfred was here leaving him mad with need with simple touches.
When a mouth closes on his hurting cock he half groans and his breath catches on his throat.
He pushes his hips towards the warmth and a hand presses him to the sheets, forces him to keep still as the other hand grabs a cheek of his ass with strength.
He can't really hold on for much longer and begs on his mother language to be fucked. All shame goes away as Alfred complies with fingers digging harshly on his hole and it's not enough.
He needs more. He needs Alfred inside him.
Alfred grabs his hands above his head and his eyes are wild. The blue almost lost in darkness and white teeth bared as if he is willing to eat his flesh and Ivan feels strong legs opening his own.
He allows the erotic alpha to kneels between his legs, feels the hand grabbing his cock and stroking then nothing. It all fades away in pleasure. Quick, demanding and so bright.
His voice cracks and his eyes tear looking upwards towards the celling. He can't even see properly but he is not afraid anymore. He feels safe under the alpha. Almost protected by the scent and power surrounding him. Together with his own it would be devastating and the thought of it makes him whimper in sheer arousal.
"Please." He finds his mouth saying without permission and growls looking up in need. He trashes and wants to force Alfred to take him.
Alfred smiles, so pleased, smug, caring.
Suddenly there's something pushing against him, it fills him and makes him throw his head behind.
"Thank you!" He says and Alfred bites his neck fucking him with more strength than he ever felt.
He pushes inside quickly and slides outside slower making him bounce and whimper each time and time is lost.
He is only aware of the filled feeling and the alpha above him taking him harder and deeper. When he realises he is on his front muffing his cries into the pillows as Alfred pounds him and grabs his hips with bruising fingers. Alfred soon comes inside and Ivan pushes into him pleading him not to stop.
Somehow Alfred doesn't stop and he keeps going until Ivan spent craves his nails into Alfred's arms and groans in pleasure.
He feels exhausted suddenly and he never felt so well fucked before. It makes him smile unconsciously.
The heat behind him is strange. It feels too warm, feels sweaty bangs and forehead against his skin and fingers moving through his cold skin. The bedroom is too silent and the fingers on his skin move touching him with their almost loving caresses.
Ivan swallows and ashamed wants to run away, to hide forever, to kill Alfred for making him like this mess of a being but he keeps still. Unsure.
He is not as disgusted as he thought he would be. He really feels exhausted and Alfred is panting but seems to be regaining control too quickly for him.
It must be the heat talking because his throat is dry and he knows in a bit it will all begin again and the thought is thrilling yet hurtful.
It hurts him more than it should but he is an omega, he can't help those cravings, those feelings.
The hand on his side leaves him and he feels Alfred pulling himself out from him, he feels empty again and cold. The annoying warmth left leaving him cold. He dislikes the cold but is a presence he is used to and somewhat comforting in the middle of all the confusion on his head.
He pushes his head into the pillow and touches his gapping hole feeling sad, hurt, lonely.
Suddenly there's a dipping on the sheets and a hand on his shoulder and he looks up. Well, he glares but Alfred doesn't seem affected by his usual intimidating aura as usual. Oblivious idiot... Or not. Ivan knows he is not the idiot he parades to be.
"Drink. I also brought these... I assume they are power bars or something..." He says sheepishly yet leaving no room to argument while looking at the russian bar. Warily Ivan drinks the glass of water at once and sighs in relief as his throat works and his mouth loses its dryness.
Someway he feels protected and the feeling upsets him.
"Why are you still here?" Ivan asks placing the sheets around his middle and Alfred looks down biting his bruised lip.
"I... Sorry... It was my fault... I take full responsibility." He says and nods to himself and Ivan presses looking at his ruined door.
"Why are you still here?" He repeats and Alfred looks at him as if disbelieving.
"I'm taking care of you. What does it look like!?"
"I don't need protection." Ivan looks at him in rage and Alfred blinks.
"I know." He states simply and Ivan grabs the bar opening it before eating a bite that tastes like paper.
"You can go." Ivan says slowly and Alfred presses his lips together.
"What if I don’t want to?" He sounds petulant and Ivan forgot how young he actually is. He places the half eaten bar down and looks at him sadly.
"What do you want? You said you wouldn't use this against me." He asks tiredly and Alfred bites his lip.
"I want to stay... Is it hard to understand it?" He sounds frustrated and Ivan nods slowly.
"I know you feel responsible but so am I and I assure you I'll be fine."
Alfred looks at him and grabs the bar before give it a huge bite.
"I like you." He says casually and Ivan wants to punch him for playing with him when he is in a sensible state. He should have known. Submit is weakness and America will use it.
"Sto-"
Alfred stops him. "I really do. I thought I could help you without getting too involved but I couldn't resist... You are not a weak needy and common omega. Is... arousing." He admits and Ivan blinks feeling the arousal increase slowly. Alpha pheromones making it more pressing and quicker than usual.
"Biology controlled your thinking ability and it has nothing to do with me Alfred." He says and a hopeful part of him hopes that Alfred will deny it but he frowns thinking and Ivan tries to create distance between them. It doesn't work since the nest is not that bid and Ivan is a big man.
"I already liked you before knowing you are an omega." He admits as red appears on his cheeks.
Ivan thinks about that and warmth spreads on his soul. The void filling somehow with those words.
Alfred liked him before... he doesn't mind him being an omega and … he?
"Really?" He asks looking searchingly into his eyes and sees sincerity all over the American's face.
"Yes. I don't want to protect you. I know you can do that by yourself but I really would like to take care of you... just, when you're like this..." He says with a bashful smile and Ivan can't help but smile back.
"I would like that."
"Cool." And with that Alfred kisses him again promising to take care of him during his heat and murmuring how wonderful he is and Ivan feels his heart burst for once.
He doesn't know if Alfred will keep his promise but he will make sure he does and if he's willing to have Ivan he is sure he will try to embrace his nature for once. If Alfred can he can try too.
He feels soft lips on his own, a tongue pressing and sliding inside his mouth and suddenly he feels loved.
