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generational-atrophy · 7 months ago

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APH England - SFW Alphabet

A.N.: Use of "You," no use of (Y/N), and this is somewhat proofread

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Arthur’s love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service. I couldn’t settle on one, and I wasn’t satisfied with my older interpretations of him, so you get both.

He sticks to the classic terms of endearment – love, dear, darling, etc. – and uses them everywhere

On rough days, whether it’s you or him having a terrible day, he defaults to acts of service.

If he’s having a rough day, he’s grumpier than usual and may not talk much, but he’ll show that he cares for you with a peck on the cheek or temple.

If you’re having a rough day, then sit down, please darling, and let him take care of those chores.

I know it’s a running gag that his food tastes bad or it’s burnt, but for your sake (and the sake of realism), he really tries his best for you. It may not be a five-star meal, but it has all of your favorites.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The kind of friend that acts like he’s above idle gossip and tries not to listen in on the phone call between you and your friend. While you’re spilling the tea, Arthur is putting the kettle on the stove and chiming in with a few wisecracks.

He’s not immediately invested, but sometimes the lore drops are too wild to ignore, and his resolves breaks down.

He’ll suddenly have something in that room to clean or tidy up, and he is Not Subtle™

(It’s like whenever there’s a fight in the parking lot outside your apartment and suddenly you and the neighbors need to vacuum the sidewalk)

You: “I’ve got tea!”

Him: “I’ll put the kettle on.”

And they were roommates! (Oh my god, they were roommates)

You two having an entire conversation across the room with facial expressions alone. Francis is eavesdropping, but he can only interpret Arthur’s side of the conversation bc he’s known him for centuries.

Arthur gets annoyed whenever Francis wedges himself into the conversation, claiming he’s “not gossiping because that would be immature”

If the two don’t start bickering like an old married couple, then the three-way gossip fest is hilarious af

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Maybe a little

Arthur enjoys it when you rest your head on his shoulder, and he’ll cuddle with you for a little while if you ask him to

But overall, I think he’s neutral toward it

When you two cuddle, Arthur wants to be the big spoon. He misses holding someone in his arms

He thinks about cuddling with you a lot, actually. Whenever he’s stuck at a meeting he’s like, “damn, I would rather be home holding you than hearing these morons argue”

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

It’s been a while since he last had someone to share a home with. Of course, Arthur misses it.

This has some hiccups at the start. Arthur had gotten used to living solo, so he kept up with his own laundry, dishes, trash, etc. etc., so when someone new comes along, their presence, habits, and quirks change up his routine. It annoys him, but it’s not your fault.

At first, when he’s feeling more annoyed by the change in routine, Arthur divvies up the chores between the two of you without your input and lectures you when it’s done differently (or if you forget). A little bit of effective communication will go a long way.

During episodes of depression, Arthur falls behind on chores. It happens. He knows that he should get up and take care of the overflowing laundry basket or wash the dishes taking over the sink and countertops, but he just can’t muster up the energy.

It makes him feel awful whenever you have to pick up the slack, which spurs him into a self-deprecating rant.

It’s always interesting whenever he tries to use magic to clean up the house. Somehow, all the furniture and dishes become sentient, and Arthur has to chase them down the street before you get home.

When you’re back from school/work/errands, you’ll find Arthur sitting on the couch with his head resting on the back cushion, and he’s looking absolutely exhausted.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I got the dishes back—I mean, the dishes are washed.”

“You tried using magic again, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe. I thought I got the pronunciation right this time.”

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

“I’m sorry, love, but this isn’t working. I think we should separate.”

He says it like he’s divorcing you after 30+ years of marriage and he’s taking the dog with him

Arthur takes the direct route, even if seeing your heartbreak hurts him. He condemns those who take the coward’s route, so he’s not going to break things off with you via text or phone call.

F = Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Arthur likes the idea of getting married to you some day. Please don’t expect it to be so soon after meeting or dating you. He would like to take things relatively slow, and it would be nice to have a partner with similar expectations.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Arthur is pretty gentle both physically and emotionally!

Yes, he’s grumpy and grumbles like the old man he is. He’s a complainer. Sometimes he messes up and lashes out at you about whatever is annoying him. Call him out if he doesn’t do so himself.

I think he would appreciate having an emotionally gentle partner, someone sincere and intuitive with good boundaries.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it and what is it like?)

Yep! He likes giving hugs more than receiving, though as I said, he isn’t opposed to them.

You can expect from Arthur a hug from the side with an arm draped around your lower back or across your shoulders and accompanied with a peck on the cheek or temple.

He likes front hugs from you, especially if you’re shorter than him (or sitting down) because then he can rest his chin on your head. You also get to hear him chuckle up close.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I can’t decide when he would drop the L-word, just know that when he does, he means it.

Once the L-word is dropped, Arthur will say it often. He says it before he leaves for work, he says it on dates, when you two head to bed for the night, and he says it the moment he wakes up, even if you’re asleep in his arms.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they get jealous?)

I don’t know if I can confidently say he’s the jealous type. He trusts you and is confident that you’re faithful

Yes, I’ve seen plenty of other headcanons stating that he’s the jealous type. He’s an old man; he’s BEEN an old man for a while now, so I don’t know how he wouldn’t have grown out of jealousy by now

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

They’re sweet and caring.

Except him to give lots of kisses on the cheek, temples, and lips. That feeling is mutual tbh

On particularly rough or stressful days, when he returns home absolutely exhausted, shrugging off his coat and plucking the gloves from his hands, Arthur’s mood starts to lighten when you take his face into your hands and kiss him gently.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dad Mode™ activated

It’s like there’s a switch in his mind

Culturally, where I’m from, you don’t parent other people’s kids, but I know that that is different in other parts of the world

If that is the case over in the U.K. then yeah, I can see Arthur’s paternal instincts kicking into overdrive lol

If he sees that the merry-go-round thing at the park start to slow down, then he gives it one good spin just to hear the kids’ erupt into squeals and laughter

It doesn’t matter whether Arthur is on his way to or from work, if he sees hopscotch drawn on the sidewalk in chalk, then he’s playing along for a moment

You? Holding kids? (cousins, nieces/nephews, your own, etc). He gives you the warmest, sweetest look ever. Arthur melts.

I think Arthur would want kids tbh. Even though I headcanon the countries as being unable to have children, I think Arthur specifically would want to adopt.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Arthur is more of a night owl, so mornings aren’t his favorite thing in the world. If you thought he grumbled a lot during the day, you haven’t seen anything yet. By the time your relationship gets serious, you’ve learned how to translate his grumbling, grunts, and groans into something coherent.

Grumble, grumble, stretch, pop, groan

“Is your back bothering you again?”

Annoyed groan

“I did remind you not to fall asleep at your desk.”

Grumble, grumble

“Sit down, dear, I’ll get you some painkiller”

“Thanks, love”

N = Night (How are nights spend with them?)

Arthur stays up late. It varies from night to night. Sometimes he’s working at home, other times he’s reading in the living room or in bed.

If you’re a night owl too, that works out great! That gives the both of you more time outside of work or school to spend some quality time together.

If you’re an insomniac or generally have difficulty falling asleep (or staying asleep), then Arthur will keep you company. He gets it. I think he has depression-induced insomnia.

Now, if you’re an early riser, then I hope you don’t mind the bedside lamp being on until the late hours of the night

Arthur will also discourage you from trying to stay up late just to greet him if/when he comes home late from work or errands, but he secretly enjoys it when you do

(he feels bad about enjoying it bc you’re clearly tired)

O = Open (When will they start to reveal things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

Aside from my usual headcanon about the countries being reluctant to reveal their non-human nature, I think Arthur is more open than most.

He tells you about his day at work, giving the names of coworkers that annoy him (i.e. Francis and Alfred) and the names of the Magic Trio (Lukas and Vladimir – I think the latter is Romania’s human name)

But you can tell that Arthur isn’t giving you all the details when he’s talking about Alfred, Matthew, and Francis. Plus, if you’re particularly observant and/or have a keen memory for details, you’ll start to notice that the timeline for these apparent friendships don’t quite add up

Especially with the way Arthur gets wistful and almost remorseful when he talks about Alfred and Matthew when they were younger, referring to their wars of independence as “other times”

P = Patience (How easily are they angered?)

Arthur is patient with all other things except bullshit

There’s also a difference between his typical grumpiness and true anger

He gets fed the fuck up when people are genuinely or intentionally stupid (“no you cannot drive THROUGH the roundabout!!” or “Why did you think to put cooking oil in your car’s engine!?”)

That goes from weaponized incompetence and other immature games

Obviously, this doesn’t apply if you’re genuinely misunderstanding something or experiencing time blindness, etc., etc.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

Arthur memorizes every important date, from the good ones to the ones you would rather not remember.

He’s pretty good at remembering the little things, too – favorite colors, foods, textures (if applicable).

Routines and schedules also stick really well in his mind, and I don’t think he always realizes it lol

Arthur listens when you tell him stuff or about that neat thing you saw in the store the other day, and then -bam- it’s now a birthday present. It doesn’t matter if that was 5 minutes or 5 months ago

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

When he surprised you at work/school with flowers and lunch (you had forgotten your lunch that morning)

Seeing your face light up was *chef’s kiss*

Arthur gets a little smug look about him if your coworkers or peers see your surprised face

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Protective. Arthur isn’t threatening to beat people with a metal pipe like Ivan, nor is he trying to avoid direct confrontation like Romano.

Whether you’re a country or human, he trusts you to handle things yourself, but if it’s anything more serious like idk a robbery, then he is 1000% getting involved

If you’re the type to really dislike bugs and scream if you see one, then Arthur comes charging into the room thinking there’s someone (*coughs* Prussia probably *coughs*) climbing through the window

At least his response time is fast lmao

Please don’t scare him like that or play those kinds of pranks on him :c

He’s an old man!

Arthur wouldn’t know how to react to you protecting him. He has mixed feelings

On the one hand, he likes knowing that you’ve got his back but also,, don’t worry about him. Arthur prioritizes your safety over his own (especially if you’re human)

On the other hand, if you charged into the room, slid on your knees up to him, told him “I’m going to get you out of here,” then carried him to safety, Arthur wouldn’t be opposed to the idea 👀

T = Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

I headcanon Arthur as being the type to memorize specific dates

Birthdays, anniversaries, dates associated with bad memories, holidays – all of them.

The gifts are almost always something that you mentioned off-handedly 8 months ago

He equally likes sentimental and practical gifts

Dates are kinda old fashioned and romantic, but y’know, if it still works then why change it?

Arthur is also pretty good at keeping the house relatively tidy and clean. The times when it gets to be a bit messy is whenever he’s stressed or depressed

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Trying to take care of everything himself

Giving unsolicited advice

“Back in my day…” jk (kind of)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Arthur knows he’s still quite attractive, but I don’t think he’s necessarily the type to have a skincare routine or something

Wrinkles don’t bother him any

He makes it a point to look presentable wherever he goes, even if it’s just the grocery store.

Hell, he’s hesitant to even go to the mailbox in his pajamas, robe, and slippers.

During the rare times when he does, it’s to get the gift he ordered for you, and he can only hope that none of the neighbors saw that

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I almost said no, but then I remembered how he acts about losing Alfred and Matthew

Yeah, I think he would lie to himself, telling himself that he will be alright without you, but he would still be feeling the impact you left on his life for centuries

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

I sometimes wonder if Arthur messes up magic because his fluency in a dead language isn’t as good as he believes it is, and that’s why the spells go awry

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Immaturity, weaponized incompetence, scare pranks*, and I think he would take part in that crochet vs knitting feud but idk which side he would join

*Scare pranks – stuff like,, “there was an accident :c” and making it seem like you’re in the hospital when really you just lost his favorite pen or something

Harmless pranks are fine tho and he’ll play along

Z = Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

Lowkey a restless sleeper

Arthur sleep-talks when he’s stressed, and he says some wild shit

“Young man go alphabetize those dishes right now or you’re not getting any pudding after breakfast!”

The fuck????

If you respond to his sleep-ramblings, then you can have a whole conversation with him

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generational-atrophy · 7 months ago

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Dear, Sasha

[Russia x reader]

Wordcount: 11, 834

Content warning: Heavily explicit NSFW content. R18+ only.

Synopsis: Being born into Russian high society is just as much of a blessing as it is a curse. You live a life of comfort and luxury, but at the expense of your own happiness. Just when you think you’ve had enough, a man catches your eye, and looking at him is like looking into a mirror. You eventually meet him at a ball, and upon dancing with him, an intense, unspoken passion begins.

As you get closer to him, you start falling for his intelligence and sensitivity. But he keeps retreating within himself and running away, breaking your heart in the process. You eventually track him down on a train leaving Moscow, and in a fit of passion, you slap him across the face. Shocked by the magnitude of your feelings, he chases you with no intention of letting the fire die out.

Imperial Russia, 1875. A frozen empire on the brink of collapse. While the rest of Europe liberated itself from decadence and poverty, the state remained an antique of the past. There was still a stark division between high society and peasants. You either worked the land or went to dizzying ballroom parties until you went mad from the decadence of it all.

That was your life.

Only you always thought you were born on the wrong side of history. Not that you ever said it out loud, because how could you? Having come from a long line of nobility, everything was handed to you with a silver spoon. Money, lavish estates, a noble name, all inherited from the past generations of your family.

“Gilbert? Are you ready?” You marched down the hall, heels clacking against the floor. The dress you wore was white, off-shoulder, and poured elegantly down to your feet. Around your neck was a delicate string of pearls, and hanging from your ears was a pair of dainty earrings. Everything you wore was fit for a bride, which was fitting for your circumstances.

“Almost!”

You arrived at the doorway of your cousin’s bedroom, and the man himself was standing in front of a mirror, checking his appearance. He was in a white tuxedo, making for quite the dashing bachelor. For someone who had no absolutely no interest in being tied down, he always tried so hard for high society.

“Why is it that every time we go to parties, you’re always the last one out the door?” You asked.

“I’m not good with time, you know that.” He turned to you, arms stiffly by his sides. “So, how do I look?”

“Irresistible.”

“Good. You don’t look too bad yourself,” He walked over, getting you to let out a laugh. “Now let’s get going.”

“You know, I’m starting to get tired of these parties,” You admitted as you both descended the staircase. Waiting just outside the front door was the family’s horse and carriage. “Seems like an awful lot of effort to meet people you’ll never even talk to again.”

“No, it’s for when you accidentally bump into them on your train ride to and from Moscow,” He grinned.

“You got that right.” You mused.

It was lonely staying by yourself in Saint Petersburg. Every year when Winter came rolling around, turning the country into a snowy wasteland, it was practically unbearable. Fortunately, you had a cousin to share your pain with, and he just so happened to despise the country’s state of affairs as much as you.

“I’m really glad for you, Gilbert. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You commented in the carriage.

“Of course you are,” He hummed, though his mirth only lasted so long when he caught the expression you had. It was a little sad, but perhaps you’d been that way for quite some time. “I know that look.”

You lifted your gaze to him quietly.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned in from across you.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, turning away.

“It’s never nothing.” He plopped down next to you.

“Okay, fine. I just don’t know if this kind of life is right for me. All the socializing, the dancing, I just can’t take it anymore. I’m putting on some kind of persona so I’m not rejected from everything I’ve ever known.”

Gilbert softened his gaze as he listened to you speak. And you were right about everything. He wasn’t one to follow rules, or rather, he had quite the disdain for them. He was childish, eccentric, and had no qualms against staying that way forever. But high society was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

“Yeah.” He murmured, gaze falling.

If you didn’t fit in, you were as good as dead.

“Maybe I should’ve been a farmer.” You mused.

“Trust me. You do not want to be a farmer.”

“So I just marry rich and the end?”

“That’s how the world works, unfortunately.”

”That’s how Russia works.” You corrected.

“Yeah, but it worked out pretty well for the two of us, didn’t it? Look on the bright side.” The albino kicked back next to you. If you didn’t already know him, you’d say he was everything wrong with this country.

“You say that now, but when it’s your turn to get married, you won’t be this relaxed.” You remarked.

“I’m twenty-two. I still have time,” He closed his eyes. Not a moment passed before he opened one to look at you teasingly. “You’re running out of it, though. You’re telling me you’re a twenty year-old woman and still unmarried? There must be something wro-”

You glared at him and he shut up pretty quick.

“I just want to meet the right person, okay? Is that really too much to ask for?” You frowned again.

“Ah, you’re so old-fashioned, (F/N).” Gilbert almost swooned. “But that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Ever since your debut two years ago, the subject had been looming over you as the bane of your existence. Finding the one, though it was more of a social obligation than something you really wanted. Romantic love was an illusion of the old order. People married for duty, and you feared that one day, you would have to too. All of these social events and soirées were for that reason, and the more you lingered on that, the less enchanting they seemed.

The grandest estates could not tempt you, nor the glistening chandeliers that hung overhead. Not the enticing display of exotic fruits on the refreshments table, nor the enchanting string instruments. When you got to the dance floor, you curtsied for your partner, who was one of many that you would cycle through that night. Their faces were a blur, their conversations a bore, each a copy of a copy.

None of this was real.

All of this was an illusion, a distraction for the dawn of an empire. You’d been stuck in this haze for many years, only now just realizing the thickness of it, like this life was everything you would ever know. All of these thoughts raced through your head until your heart began pounding, like you were on the verge of collapsing. The room spun faster and faster as you lost yourself, but that was when you saw him.

A uniformed cavalry officer in all white.

You were never one to stare, let alone at a man, but his appearance was so unique, it was distracting. What more was that he was so tall and broad, it was hard not to look at him. But you did more than just that. As he stood near the edge of the ballroom, you gave him a few curious glances, perhaps too many to be considered inconspicuous. His skin was whiter than snow, soft and smooth like powder. He had a long and rather large nose, but it suited him. As for his hair, it was platinum blonde, and slightly wavy.

It framed a matured and full face that scanned the room for other people-watchers. He seemed a lot more observant than most, and perhaps that served a role in his isolation. But that made the two of you.

As if he felt your stare on him, he glanced at you.

Then, he smiled.

You froze, hypnotized by his eyes. In your lifetime here in Russia, you’ve never seen anything like them. His eyes were a soft lavender, and so vivid against his white cap. They were devastatingly beautiful and so rare, you felt lonely just by gazing into them. Or was it because it felt like you were looking into a mirror?

A week later, you attended an opera with Gilbert.

The man was escaping your mind by then, but fate decided otherwise. As you sat amongst hundreds of faces, yours was being watched by someone else. You scanned the audience with your opera glasses as the woman on stage performed her piece, reaching a high crescendo. That was when you spotted him.

The officer from the ball.

And he was already staring at you.

Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, enchanted by how bold he was being. He wasn’t nervous about being discovered at all, even removing his opera glasses to show his striking lavender eyes, as if to show it was him. It was riveting to be noticed, and even more so when he made it obvious. He wanted you to know he was watching you, just as you had been watching him. What were his intentions?

Or was it all a mere coincidence?

You didn’t know what to think, but one thing was for sure. He had piqued your attention, and you made it a point to find out who he was. The next time you saw him again was at another ball, and once the opportunity came, you walked up to your cousin to do exactly that. He was drinking vodka out of a glass, and he didn’t seem like he’d stop anytime soon.

“Who’s that?” You stared back at the man.

“Ivan Braginsky,” Gilbert answered.

Finally, a name to match the face.

Funnily enough, your cousin didn’t need to look to confirm who you were staring at. Had the man done something to warrant such a reputation, or was it his captivating looks that called for so much attention?

“Another rich cavalry officer, I guess. Apparently, he doesn’t care for women -- if you know what I mean.”

There it was.

“Where did you hear that from?” You shot him a look, strangely disheartened by the thought.

“Word of mouth, what else?”

“And you listen to that nonsense?”

“It’s not just me. See how everybody else is strategically avoiding him aside from a polite nod?”

You turned to the officer, watching him for a short period before noticing he was indeed the solitary type. He never waltzed with any women, and nobody seemed to be striking up much conversation with him aside from other officers. You didn’t know what to feel, stark indifference, or embarrassment that the man you had been staring at didn’t swing that way.

“Stop it, Gilbert. You sound just like them.”

But as opposed as you were to the idea, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. In a world like this one, outside opinion became your reality. People loved to talk, so if you happened to be the subject, you better hope it was something good. When you thought of it that way, your spunk had all but reduced to nothing.

It was easier to just do what everybody else was doing. To tread lightly against the water without causing any ripples. It was the reason why you were so miserable, and yet, you were paralyzed.

You resorted to just watching him on the mezzanine, surrounded by his friends. By then, your fixation on him was no longer out of mere curiosity. He was attractive, and judging from how he looked back at you, that attraction was mutual. The reciprocation left much to be desired, like an invitation to start something. It drew you in like all things forbidden, though the only object was the peace of your old life.

And rather than speaking, you chose to die.

But he chose the latter.

“Demoralizing, isn’t it?”

A deep voice startled you, having come from behind. When you turned to it, you came face to face with Ivan. He was even more striking up close, and you weren’t prepared for what felt like worlds colliding.

“Excuse me?” Your brows came together.

“This is all theatre,” Ivan replied, lowering his head to you. “Everything you do and say is watched.”

“Is that so?” Interest laced your tone, fascinated by the eccentric talking point. This was your first time meeting him, and yet, he didn’t bother with niceties.“Do you think we’re being watched right now?”

“Of course.” He held out a gloved hand, palm facing up. He was forward, but only at your permission. Nothing he did was intrusive, as if he observed you for all your limits and lingered on them until you gave him your consent to go further. For that, the way he carried himself was so mysterious, but also deeply alluring. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

You slid your hand into his, diving into the fire that was his world — and much to your wonder, yours.

Ivan led you to the dance floor, and all the heads in the room turned, one by one. Some peered around to get a better look, even. It was the most unexpected development yet, the man they’d written off to be a social outcast, next to a young debutante with an established name. You two looked good together too, but neither of those reasons would account for the amount of attention you and Ivan would receive.

It started off innocent like any other couple on the floor. A graceful waltz straight out of a fairytale.

Your palms came together, and with his hand on your waist, he guided you effortlessly amongst the other guests. You danced with him across the room, but you felt so light, it was like flying. Everything that had ever weighed you down was lifted, unburdened by everything that had been. Your dress flared out as he spun you in circles, but it wasn’t dizzying in the least.

In fact, your head had never been clearer.

For the world had all been drowned out.

The only thing you could see was him, and him, you. Even for just that moment, you were the center of each other’s universe. You were his sun, and he was yours. You two revolved around each other, basking in each other’s warmth that nourished a new life. And as the night went on, he never switched you with any other women. He didn’t have any intention to dance with anybody else, but neither did you. Slowly, but surely, it became undeniable what was developing between you two. He lifted you up and spun you in the air. Then, you took the risk to look down at him.

You and Ivan locked in a deep stare.

That was when you knew.

There was a budding passion between you and Ivan. With your mouth agape, you held onto his face to stabilize yourself. Breaths poured from your lips, and he welcomed them on instinct by opening his own. All this time, it wasn’t just the devastating beauty of his eyes that touched you, nor the coherence behind them. It was that they were looking at you.

The music stopped, and everything was sealed with a daring act. When he put you down, he did it so that your nose would slide against his. It was the first time that you made skin-to-skin contact with him, and it was so electric, you closed your eyes to savor it.

This had all been just a dance.

And yet, it felt like you two had just made love.

Needless to say, the blatant disregard for everyone else in the room was the most selfish, yet erotic experience of your life. When he parted ways with you, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips lingered on you, and he lifted his gaze to you once more, almost as if to repeat everything that had already been said.

Then, he bowed, leaving you for the night.

Not that you even got any sleep after a high like that.

But your hopes were crushed as quickly as they were raised. You didn’t see him for a while after that, and he didn’t write to you either. A part of you hoped that he would find your address because he wanted to, but he never did. It left you incredibly disappointed, even confused after such a beautiful night together. Had everything you felt just been a fling, or worse, entirely made up in your mind? In your melancholy, you went to the city to get yourself some flowers.

But when you got inside the shop, you laid eyes on the reason for your woes. You could recognize that silver-blonde hair from anywhere, and subsequently, the person it belonged to. Even with his back turned to you in a crouch, you instantly knew who it was.

“Ivan.” You let out.

“(F/N),” The man turned to you, eyes widened.

His guard dropped at the sudden encounter. You just caught him in his private life, and while that wasn’t a problem on its own, he imagined his second time speaking to you would be when he was a little more prepared. But he couldn’t deny how delighted he was, even if he tried to mask it to an acceptable level. He stood up and dusted his pants, smile growing.

“It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too. What are you doing?”

“Just running some errands.” Ivan replied, picking up a bucket of sunflowers from the ground.

“For yourself?” You asked with a curious tone.

“Yes, sunflowers are my favorite,” He laughed like he didn’t want to admit it, but he did anyway. He carried them to the cashier, but he promptly returned to get another one. “I like putting them in my windows.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” You smiled some. It was cute, even, but you refrained from saying it out loud. He was shy enough about it as is, so you thought of the next best thing. “I was buying some flowers for myself too.”

“Really?” He lit up.

“Yeah. Just some roses.” You hummed.

“Let me get them for you.” He offered, put off by the thought that you were doing the same thing as him.

“That’s very generous of you, but I couldn’t—”

“I insist.” Ivan lowered his eyes to you.

In his mind, people buying flowers for themselves meant they could’ve had better days. Maybe it was just an egotistical way of thinking, but he assumed it was the same way for you. If he could do the least of getting you a rose, he would sleep better at night.

That sincerity seeped through him and made it impossible for you to refuse. So you relented.

“Thank you, Ivan. This is really, really sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he paid for them, he handed you a generous bouquet of red roses wrapped in delicate, colored paper. The gesture was so kind, it almost made up for the anguish you had felt recently. While you admired the floral arrangement, your mind returned to that night — you softened your gaze and peered up at him shyly. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that I had a really good time with you that night.”

Ivan leaned back slightly, taken aback by your words. It was natural for you to say, but he was so used to being alone, the thought of being considered was so riveting that he had to ground himself after the fact.

“You’re a great dancer.” You complimented.

“So are you.”

“I was hoping that you’d write me too.” You lowered your gaze, missing the surprise that crossed his face.

“You were?” He blinked.

“Would that be inappropriate?” You glanced up at him quickly, feeling a frown start coming in.

“No, but that’s what I thought myself. I thought that it would make you uncomfortable.” His eyes widened as he spoke candidly. It was incredible how at ease he was around you, but your unapologetic honesty had him scrambling to meet you in the middle.

“Not at all. I was actually bothered that you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “I’ll write to you tonight, so it should come in a few days. Don’t worry.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting,” You beamed, turning to leave the shop. Excitement washed over you like all was right in the world again. But before you left, you had to ride out the high with one last comment. And it caught him even more off guard than the entire encounter itself. “You seem more like yourself today.”

“What do you mean?” He paused.

“Because you were unprepared.” You answered.

Ivan wrote to you right when he got home, inviting you to tea the following week. The café he waited in could pass for the lobby of a luxury hotel, but it was nothing you weren’t used to. Ceilings high enough for an eagle to soar in, and smooth marble pillars to hold them up. Artisan furniture, waiters in tuxedos, it was a favorite place to rendezvous in for all high society. He had a newspaper opened in front of him just as you arrived. Somehow, he always seemed surprised to see you, even if this meeting had been organized.

“How long will you be in Moscow for?” You gave your coffee a quick stir. He opted for tea instead, which he paired with a slice of honey cake. Turns out, he had quite the sweet tooth as it was too much for you.

“Three months. Then I’ll be stationed in Tashkent,” He answered. The speed of your stirring waned to a stop, and he noticed that your stare on him turned thoughtful. You seemed as though you were about to say something, but you refrained. “What about you? Are you going back to Saint Petersburg in Spring?”

“Yes, but I can stay longer if I wanted,” You brought your cup up to your lips. In truth, you wanted to ask how long he’d be in Kazakhstan for, but you worried that your interest in him would’ve seemed too much. Not that it wasn’t an open secret to you both at this point. “I don’t have anybody waiting for me there.”

That day, you two got to know each other beyond the ballroom, talking about your lives, families, and goals. It was like playing catch up after your night together, and it was weirdly grounding. He wasn’t a mysterious Prince Charming who swept you off your feet anymore, but something even better. He was real, every last bit of his sensitive character and wit.

“Do you not want to be married?” He asked.

“Not to the wrong person. It’s the one thing I have to do right, so I don’t want it to be the regret of my life.”

“I understand. Finding the right person is easier said than done — people can like you, but it’s not love.”

“I’m listening,” You hummed.

“That’s what makes it so valuable,” Ivan continued. Something glinted in his eyes like he had just come alive, as if he’d been waiting to say this for a while. “Because when you have it, you’ll have everything.”

You rested your face on the palm of your hand, staring at him across the table with intrigue.

“That person will see you for everything that you are and accept you for things you can’t accept yourself. Then, you become whole because of it,” He briefly broke his eye contact as he picked up his tea, but remade it as he said this. “Letting them love you is how you acknowledge that and forgive yourself.”

“That was really good, Ivan.” You muttered, frowning. He was so eloquent, his words untangled some part of yourself you didn’t know was tangled. Now that you thought about it, he’d always had this effect on you. The things he’d say, the way he received you. The world just made sense when you were with him.

He was so intelligent and sensitive, it drew you in like a moth to a flame. But it also put everything into perspective. He was a person everyone decided to ostracize, and you were so close to being just like the rest. You almost didn’t deserve him because of it, but you could forgive yourself if you did one simple thing.

Not letting him slip away.

“You think so?”

“Yes, I understood that perfectly. I couldn’t have said it better myself,” You nodded, watching him light up at being so well-received. It was too bad what you’d add to this conversation wasn’t half as deep, but you liked a good laugh. “But hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about you, though.”

“How can you tell me a secret about me?”

“Well, it involves you, but it’s not necessarily true,” Your smile at him was more coy than he would’ve liked, so what was it about him that was so amusing? “It’s what everyone has been saying about you.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

“Everybody thinks you’re gay.”

His eyes widened until the whites of them were practically glaring, but he didn’t appear disgusted in the least. He couldn’t recall doing anything that could give anybody that impression, unless he did.

“Why?” He shook his head, positively dumbfounded.

“Maybe it was because you seemed too reserved.”

“Well, you didn’t believe that, did you?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m glad, but what am I supposed to do with that information? I can’t exactly prove to them what I am.” Ivan smiled weirdly, and he kept his composure rather calm. Most people would’ve recoiled or panicked at the thought of being regarded as such.

But it was so in-character for him to not mind.

“Well, of course you can,” You laughed, your smile softening at this. Turns out, your point wasn’t so much to tease him as it was to flirt with him, and he walked right into it. “Just spend more time with me.”

His cheeks turned rosy as his heart sped up for a brief moment. And against all odds, he didn’t feel the urge to shy away from you. It spoke volumes for who he was, solitary and avoidant, even if the only thing he ever wanted was someone to see him. It was a paradoxical way to live, though life was full of them.

But something about you made him unafraid to chase you, even if it was at a calm, walking pace.

A few days later, you found yourself strolling beside him next to a frozen lake. Ivan had his arms folded behind his back while he indulged you in another pleasant conversation. He had so much to say, but he made every moment worth your while. It seemed as though he just needed someone to listen to him.

And you were more than happy to be that someone.

“My mother used to call me Sasha,” He told you.

“Oh?” It was a beautiful name, but the only thing that crossed your mind was how well it suited him.

“Defender of mankind,” He gave you his gloved hand to take as you came across uneven terrain. But even after it passed, you never let go, and he didn’t mind it one bit. “She would remind me of that every time I got bullied as a child. She said they only did nasty things to me because they were jealous of me.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t want to say.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Children can be cruel sometimes.” You nodded.

“I don’t think children are that aware of themselves, but I suppose it was because I was different.”

“Why would you say that?”

“There must be a reason why they did what they did.”

“People don’t need a reason to be the way they are. They just don’t know how to be anything else,” You disagreed, feeling his stare on you as you gazed to the side. “Which is a shame because I never would’ve spoken to you if you hadn’t spoken to me first.”

“Oh?”

“I never would’ve met you if you didn’t take the risk,” You smiled back at him. “So don’t ever change, Ivan.”

All of this came so naturally to you, but your words meant more to him than you would ever know. Nobody had ever said that to him. To never change. His whole life, he thought he had to be someone else, but it was really the world that wasn’t right for him. You liked him for who he was, so for the first time in a while, he could breathe. And he didn’t hold back.

As the months went by, you started spending every waking moment with him. Winter wasn’t as cold and bleak as it used to be, having found a warmth in your close friendship with him. You would even go horse riding with him in the vast countryside. As he chased you through the serene, white landscape, the hooves of your horses pounded rhythmically against the ice.

You turned back to watch him riding steadily behind. Ivan gave Russia a beauty you never knew it had, and it reflected on him inside and out. His kindness knew no bounds, even for those who could never repay him. He would play with children on the streets, then crouch down to give them candy. And above all else, he loved you exactly the way you needed him to.

You were at his home, sitting across him on the ledge of a window. Just like he said, he had sunflowers at almost every one, giving the golden light that poured in a new meaning. But you made everything look so much more vibrant, giving his place a new life just by being here. He’d had people over before, but it was the first time that he didn’t feel lonely at home.

“How do you like your caviar?” He had a slice of bread in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Just make it how you usually would.”

“Alright,” Ivan spread a thick layer of butter over it before scooping some caviar and plopping it on top. Then, he handed it to you, which you ate in slow, experimental chews. He watched you intently for a reaction, and it was like nothing he expected.

“I don’t actually like caviar, but I just wanted to try it the way you do,” You admitted, finishing the slice of bread as you spoke. The man made a face as if to say come again, but you had already moved on to the next best thing. “Oh, that reminds me. What did you think of the tea cakes I got for you the other day?”

“I ate it all, actually.” He murmured under his breath.

“What?” You asked, not hearing what he said.

“I ate it all.” He repeated louder this time.

“But that was only a few days ago,” You said without thinking, surprised that he managed to finish the box in such a short period. He glanced to the side with his lips pursed, embarrassed that you found out, but then again, he never could lie to you. “But no matter. I’m glad you liked them since I made them myself.”

“You did?” Ivan glanced back to you, and when he saw how proudly you grinned at him, his shame had all but diffused into wonder. “They were really good, (F/N). I didn’t know you could bake so well.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but his fixation on sweets was so endearing, you did something so out of the blue that even you were surprised by your lack of inhibition. You leaned forward and lifted his blouse, revealing his belly and happy trail. He was slightly pudgy, and it was made worse by him leaning over. But the mindless decision on your part ended up eliciting a bigger response than you anticipated.

“Why did you do that?” His eyes flew open as he pulled his blouse down to hide his stomach.

“I don’t know. I wanted to see what you looked like,” You recoiled a little, “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Ivan pinched your cheek, his expression slightly displeased. But somehow, he was a little glad that you felt this comfortable with him. What more was that you didn’t seem put off by what you saw, apparent in the expectant look you gave him. “You don’t find it unattractive that I’m fat?”

“What makes you think you’re fat?” You frowned.

“Well, there’s this,” He murmured.

“This is nothing, Ivan. Besides, I think it looks good on you,” You watched him furrow his brows for a skeptical look, which only seemed to encourage you. “But if we’re really talking, you could do your business in front of me and I would still like you.”

“No way,” He chuckled deeply.

“I’ll even follow you into the bathroom because you always take too long,” You said, smile growing.

“Okay, okay,” Ivan muttered defeatedly, not wanting to hear any more about his bathroom habits and your apparent willingness to watch them all unfold. At this point, his face had darkened past what he thought to be humanly possible. Did you like him that much? “Now if I said the same thing, you wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” You got off the ledge.

“Oh?” He wore an amused expression as he trailed behind you like a giant shadow. Despite being such a large person, he walked so quietly it was as though he wasn’t walking at all. It was only until you closed the door on him that you even realized he was there.

“I need to go to the bathroom! Don’t follow me.” You exclaimed, frankly dumbfounded that he got this far.

“Is that why you’ve been talking about me like that?”The door shut in his face, so he wandered off to wait for you. When you came out of the bathroom, he’d been sitting on a chair down the hallway. Once you were looming over him, he stood up to acknowledge you properly. “Let me show you to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, staying quiet as he took your hand and lead you to the bedroom he had prepared for you. It was so considerate of him, but you weren’t satisfied with his response. Were you being entitled, or did everything just fall flat like it meant nothing? You tried to hide it as best as you could, not wanting to ruin such a tender moment between you two.

But he was too observant to miss it.

“You don’t look happy,” Ivan softened his gaze as he put his hands on your waist, holding you steady. Little did he know, that only made your heart heavier. How could he treat you so lovingly, yet deny it so? Was he just being polite, where everything he ever did was out of friendship and nothing more?

“I don’t know why, but I thought we’d share.”

You couldn’t even look at him as you said it, having already decided his feelings for you were platonic.

Incredibly deep, but still, not deep enough.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, turning to leave the room, feeling as though you just ruined everything. Before you could, Ivan reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you from taking another step. When you faced him, he had a deep frown and an intense look in his eyes like everything was about to bubble over.

To him, the question that had been on his mind was answered so unabashedly, even he couldn’t deny the implications anymore. You liked him so much, you hoped that he would take the initiative to let you in his bed. It was so forward, yet you communicated it in such a shy manner, you were endearing for it.

You wanted him, and not out of mindless passion.

Everyone else looked through him, but you looked at and into him. You met him where he needed you to, being so playful and open, yet so attentive and considerate. For that, he had nothing against letting you into his world, and he let himself go in every way he could let go because he trusted you to catch him.

Ivan took your face and leaned in with his lips.

But he was still careful, moving ever so slowly as he watched you for every subtle change to your body language and expression. You didn’t pull away in the slightest, staring back at him with an alluring look. Once his nose brushed against yours, you closed the gap with a long-awaited kiss. He responded with just as much urgency, having been granted permission to finally love you the way he was always intended to.

You hung off his neck as your mouths met again and again in soft pecks, but they eventually deepened into kisses that were so long, you couldn’t breathe.

It felt so good to finally have him. To surrender at the same time, giving in to the unspoken connection that had made it unbearable to be away from each other. For that, your patience for each other was rewarded with the most heartfelt intimacy yet. You and Ivan kept kissing, not caring for the taste of food in each other’s mouths. He was salty like the sea, but it was still him. Slowly, you were starting to like caviar.

You saw him off at the train station before he left for Tashkent. And he almost looked too good for you to let him go, but you had to. Ivan was dressed in his white cavalry uniform as he stood on the platform, cap in hand, and when you spotted him, you ran up to him as fast as you could. He stretched his arms to catch you just in time, lifting you over his head with absolutely no effort. Ivan had always been big and strong like a bear, but feeling it was something else.

You held onto his face and kissed him as hard as any woman would before their lover was sent off to the battlefield. He reciprocated with just as much urgent passion, moving his head fervently against yours. Your lips met again and again, eliciting soft and wet sounds. You ended the amorous exchange by sucking on his tongue, but it was hardly vulgar as it was playful. He laughed breathily and smiled up at you like a dream, intoxicated by your affection.

“You came to see me, mishka?” He spoke lowly.

“Of course I did,” You let out, kissing him again until you somehow got it through his head that you loved him, however dizzy it was. The second time round was even longer than the first, so it was a miracle how he was still standing. “Write to me everyday.”

“I promise,” He whispered, chest heaving.

You bit his neck as hard as you could without making him bleed, because kissing him a third time wasn’t enough. His face scrunched up from the pain, and while his body didn’t enjoy it, his heart was in the right place. It ached with satisfaction, but it couldn’t be explained by the physical. It came from a carnal instinct deep within, and what awakened inside him would stay with him throughout his entire posting.

“I miss you already, Sasha.” You whispered back.

“I’ll be back soon. I know nothing will happen to me because you’ll always be with me,” Ivan pressed his forehead to yours gingerly, closing his eyes as he spoke. It was the mindset of all soldiers, the feeling of invincibility simply because someone loved them. But how many would still perish, despite that fact? He carried this inside him like a stone; knowing his own mortality made him restless with longing.

In the months he spent away from you, you were all he could think about. As he sat around the campfire with his comrades, he let the dark of the night get to him. It was pitch black for miles around, so he stared into the flames, letting them burn his vision away just to get a semblance of what it felt like to be around you. Light, warm, and nourishing, a sign that he’d live to see another day. He knew he loved you, even if that love was playful, exciting, and even childlike.

For you, Ivan freed up so much space within himself that you would never feel trapped again. If the world was ever too small, it never was inside him, and in there, you slowly blossomed like a flower. He would then carry you inside him everywhere he went, so it was like having a piece of Spring even in the coldest blizzards. But the greatest one had yet to pass. What used to be so pure was burning into something so passionate, it rivaled that of his first dance with you.

Only this time, it wasn’t just physical attraction.

He wanted all of you, body and soul.

But somehow, that felt like a crime. You were his little bear, and he was your first for everything. Was it too soon to want you this way, or were you ready to give him everything? When he saw you again, it was easy to make a poor judgement. Your minds were tired but your hearts were not, and after the separation, there was nothing to inhibit your deep-seated restlessness for each other. While you sat over him, half-dressed in your underwear, you kissed him until his lips were bruised. But he didn’t mind the pain. Everything you could ever inflict on him translated to pure ecstasy.

“Can I make love to you?” He gazed expectantly up at you, breaking the already fervid silence.

“But this is my first time.” You flushed, caught off guard by how plainly he asked for it. But perhaps, this was what it was to have intimate relations with a man. You and Ivan were headed toward this outcome, which would surely unfold sooner or later.

“Do you trust me?” He held onto your fingertips delicately as if to give you the option to pull away.

He was doing the same thing he did the first time he met you, lingering on your boundaries until you gave him the permission to go further. As alluring as it had been, really doing it was far more intimidating than you thought. There would be no going back from this, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

“Yes, but I’m scared.” You whispered in a hush.

“Of the pain?” He asked just as faintly.

“Of losing you.” You said even quieter.

“But you’ll always have me.” He smiled in the dark.

The next few minutes went by in a haze.

He carried you to his bed and laid you down as gently as he would laying someone down to rest. Then, he got on top of you. While you laid under him, he pulled his shirt over his head. After which, he slowly lowered back down to you, his silhouette becoming one with yours. His bare skin was flush against yours, the first of many sensations you would feel from his body.

Ivan was going to take you tonight, and you couldn’t bring yourself to process it. Some part of you wanted it to happen, another didn’t. Because as much as you loved being intimate with him, you loved everything more. The mindful conversations, even the mindless ones too. It was the purity of your interactions with him that made everything so perfect, but sex?

Having sex with Ivan scared you more than anything.

He was the only man you could ever give yourself to, and you trusted him more than anything, so why did you feel this way? Maybe it was still too early. Ivan hadn’t made himself clear enough to you, because deep inside, you still feared that he wouldn’t lay down his life for you. But if he was doing this with you, that had to be his intentions, wouldn’t it?

Or were you just being naïve?

Whatever it was, the one thing you knew was how much you didn’t want to hurt him. So you let him put his hands all over you, your breasts, your thighs, and everything in between. Ivan worshipped every inch of your body, caressing you until you were dripping wet and feening for him. Seeing the massive tent in his underwear didn’t help, as it forced you to cross your legs to hide how much you wanted him inside you.

“What’s wrong, mishka?” He breathed.

“I don’t know about this, Ivan.” You whispered, eyes turning misty. “What if this changes everything?”

“What do you mean?” He reached out to caress your cheek, gaze softening for a tender look. You were feverishly hot, your skin almost scalding to touch, and not for the right reasons. Something had you on the verge of tears, he just never imagined it would be him. That would end up being his greatest hamartia, and this night was only just the beginning. “Tell me.”

“Will I still be your little bear?”

“Always,” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and for a brief moment, you relaxed. But when his hands went to your underwear, discomfort crossed your face again. However, he missed it, set on making love to you as a cathartic moment in the relationship.

You would be bound to him forever, and him, to you.

Only you had a very different idea of binding to him. He took your underwear off, and that was the trigger. The first tear rolled from your eyes, and as you laid naked under him, you hid yourself behind your arms. In the end, no matter how much you thought you trusted him, you didn’t want him to see you like this.

And Ivan was devastated.

Not for being rejected, but for making you cry.

The shame in his eyes was as if he just killed a man, and his brows came together until it looked like he was in physical pain. Not only did he make you feel uncomfortable, he made you feel taken advantage of. He shouldn’t have tried convincing you the first time you said it, and now that he had, did you even see him the same anymore? Ivan highly doubted it.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, climbing off you.

He stood next to the bed with his back turned to you as he gathered himself. He couldn’t bring himself to face you no matter what he told himself. The guilt he felt was so paralyzing, he couldn’t even move.

“Let’s stop this.”

You slept beside him all night, hoping that what just happened between you both could be a minor bump in the relationship. In the morning, you could work it out, and you trusted that he would come through for your sake. But when the sun rose and you came to, he had all but disappeared. You sat up and rubbed the haze from your eyes, scanning the room for him.

Then, you searched the rest of the house, wandering the empty halls half-dressed. He was nowhere to be found, and at the realization that you had just been abandoned, an emptiness welled in your chest.

Why did he go?

There wasn’t a trace of him except for a letter you found on his desk. When you read it, a whirlwind of emotions hit you. Confusion, sadness, then anger. Ivan apologized for what he’d done, then said that he would return to Tashkent to give you some space.

You hadn’t finished the entire message before you scrunched it up on reflex, throwing it to a random spot in the room. All of his intellectualizing meant nothing to you, because the only thing you took away from this was that he left. He just upped and left.

He never gave you the chance to forgive him, running off before he could gather the nerve to face you. If it weren’t for all that you had done with him last night, the kissing, the touching, and your nudity, you would feel pity for him. But he took something from you.

And rather than staying to make up for it, he just left. His stupidity just shattered your dignity as a woman, but not to the point it wasn’t salvageable. So you got dressed in the fastest, sloppiest way possible, hoping to somehow catch him before he fled Moscow.

You boarded the first train you saw, and you stormed through the carriages looking like Hell. There was only an astronomical chance that you would see him, and yet, you didn’t stop, pacing down the aisle until you would lay eyes on the reason for your woes.

Fate was kind to you that day, because you did end up finding him. When you saw Ivan sitting at one of the booths, you marched up to him, nostrils flaring. He was in a heavy brown coat, and atop his head was his gray ushanka. As he stared lazily into the white, snow-drenched landscape outside, wallowing in self pity, he failed to notice you until you were standing right over him. When he sensed you in his peripheral, he turned to you, and his eyes slowly widened.

What were you doing here?

Ivan was surprised to see you on his train departing Moscow, but even more by you looking for him after everything that happened. He was that out of touch with you, which only worsened your anger. Needless to say, he was overjoyed to see you, even if he never had a chance to relish it. Because what happened in the next second would shatter his train of thought.

Utterly and completely.

You slapped him across the face, and so hard that his hat fell off. Gasps went around the carriage as his head turned in direction of the slap. His eyes went as wide as he could get them, and he didn’t move out of shock. His face stayed angled to the side as he tried to process what you just did. Did you just slap him?

From the burning sting on his cheek, it was apparent that you did. A red hand mark slowly formed on his skin, but no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to anger. Now that he thought about it, he would still adore you with your hands around his neck. In his mind, anything you did to him was out of a fit of passion. And he wasn’t so far off the mark.

When he turned back to you, mouth agape like he was about to go off, your face had gone as white as a ghost. You were appalled by what you just did, and only now did you come to terms with it, which was after the fact. After you hit him. He reached out to you on instinct, but you darted out of there without a word. Ivan shot up on reflex and chased after you.

You raced down the stairs of the train to get back to the platform, feeling the snow crunch under your feet as you ran. Not that you even had a place in mind. You just had to get as far away as possible, fleeing the horror that was something done in the heat of the moment. You just hit Ivan. You couldn’t imagine how furious he was, but that only went to show how out of touch you were with him too.

He shot his arm out and grabbed your hand, yanking you into his chest. Then, he covered your entire body with his, holding you in such an embrace that would stop any and all movement on your end. Like a wild bear, he had you completely subdued in his grasp.

“How could you?” You squeezed him as hard as you could. “You were just gonna leave without telling me?

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” Ivan sighed.

“Why would I not want to see you?” You exclaimed, pulling back to put your scorching gaze on him as you fought back angry tears. He stood over you in silence, expression wrought with shame as you tore him to shreds. There was nothing he could say to earn your forgiveness, because there was nothing that could justify what he did. “After everything that happened, that was what you thought of me?”

He had done this out of his own cowardice, and you suffered the brunt of the consequences.

“You made me feel so cheap!” You cried, slamming your fists against his chest. Not that he even budged when he was that much stronger than you, so you shoved him instead. And he let you, coming back every time to wipe away your tears. “But you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to even know that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” He winced, holding your face in his hands as he kissed you over and over.

But even that wasn’t enough.

“If we fight, stay with me. If I run, chase after me. Don’t just sit back and let it happen,” You wiped your tears as they kept coming, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that came pouring from your mouth. The dam had broken, and with the most heart-wrenching look on your face, you sobbed, “Do you even love me?”

He went beet red, and his eyes burned with all the hatred he harbored for himself. It was his ugliest look yet, coming face-to-face with just how worthless he made you feel. It was only a fraction of what he felt himself, but knowing this was all his doing made him cave like never before. He pulled you into a hug so tight, it was as though he was clinging to life itself.

“I love you more than anything,” He uttered shakily into your hair. “I love you more than life itself. You are the reason I get up in the morning everyday. Without you, living would feel the same to me as being dead.”

“Then prove it. Don’t let me doubt you for a second, or else I’ll keep living in my head.” You squeezed him.

Ivan stayed in Moscow that night. And you were back in his bedroom, continuing what was left off from yesterday. Only this time, there was a sense of clarity and serenity between you both that was comparable to reaching nirvana. All that could be said had been spoken, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“You’re so clumsy, Ivan.” You spoke gently over him, eyes still red from all the crying. While you sat on his lap, he rubbed his face on your bosom. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and he had his strong arms coiled around you with no intention of letting you go. “Why is it when we’re dancing, you’re so graceful, but with everything else, you’re so clueless?”

“That’s because it’s all I know,” He kept his eyes shut as brushed his lips delicately across your skin.

“Then treat me like how you would dance with me.” You spoke with so much conviction, it wouldn’t have sounded as suggestive as it was really meant to be.

Ivan opened his eyes as his heart began to pound in his chest. If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have understood what you meant. But he did, and always had since the day he met you. The unspoken passion between you both didn’t go unnoticed by him, and this was his chance to finally prove it to you.

You wanted him to take you.

And he wasn’t about to refuse you.

From now on, everything he would say to you would be spoken through his body as if you were dancing with him. His bedroom was now the ballroom, only there would be nobody watching you two.

He got off the bed, and without breaking eye contact, he began to strip, starting with his shirt.

You watched in a daze, admiring his body for all that it was. He was so big and strong, you could only imagine his size down there. And you were right for your concerns. When he undid his pants and pulled them down with his boxers, his dick bounced out. Ivan was still so massive at half-mast, he could put a horse to shame. But you weren’t intimidated at all.

If this was what it was to love him, you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to take him.

He laid down flat on the bed, the action causing his cock to rock to and fro. Rather than coming onto you, he let you come to him on your own will. You got on top of him so that his erection would be brushing against your stomach. Then, you lifted your shirt and pinned it with your chin, showing him your breasts with a coy smile. He chuckled lowly as his cock twitched, more than content to let you please him.

You were being so obedient, but you would snap him out of his indulgent stupor soon. You gave his dick a hard slap, and he let out a pained moan as it rocked from side to side like a buoy. Satisfied, you started pumping your hand up and down the length of it as a reward. His face contorted with pleasure, only it was so good, it looked like it hurt just as much as before.

“Oh… Oh…” He shut his eyes as you went even faster, writhing in bliss and agony. He began panting rapidly as he reached a hot and hard orgasm, but before he came, you stopped, leaving him on the edge of an explosive climax. He went red in the face from embarrassment as he recovered. “… Why did you…?”

“Because…” You trailed off as you adjusted yourself on top of him, spreading your legs and showing him your womanhood cutely. It was so erotic, Ivan had a visceral reaction. His eyes went round as his heart ached to penetrate you right then and there, but he somehow refrained. “I wanted you to do it inside me.”

He never backpedaled so fast.

A switch was flipped, excited by what you’d let him do to you, and he dove into the place between your legs. Ivan would eat you out until you lost your mind, flicking his tongue furiously against your clit, swirling circles on it, then tongue-fucking you until you came into his mouth. His hunger for you was more like starvation, picking you up by your thighs and lifting you over his head so you would have nowhere to go.

Nowhere but down to his mouth.

“Ivan, please-- ” You moaned, grabbing his head to stabilize yourself as he held you on his shoulders.

“Yes, mishka?” He dragged his tongue up and down your folds, then swirled it over your sensitive clit.

“--I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but that’s enough. You’re driving me crazy, ah--” You cried.

Ivan was so good at oral, he had your legs shaking by then, but he still wasn’t stopping. This was only the appetizer, the first bit of foreplay he would give you before getting to the main course. And he made that apparent by laying you back down on the bed.

“Then I’ll keep going until you understand.”

Without breaking eye contact, he stuck two fingers into his mouth. His gaze was hotter on you than you could stomach, but you were such a mess, there was nothing you could do except let him take charge. After coating them with saliva, he inserted them into your entrance, sliding deeper into you than you were ready for. Your eyes flew open as he started fingering and hooking you, breath hitching to his thrusts.

“How does that feel?” He breathed.

You turned feverishly hot as he pleased you, and with your head thrown back, you thought to yourself how much more it would be to take him. If this was just his fingers, what about his —? Ivan didn’t give you a chance to imagine it because he was already on top of you in a missionary position. Placing your legs on either side of his body, he splayed you wide open.

Then, he aligned himself and penetrated you.

Ivan made a face of pain before he leaned down to kiss you. After which, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, knowing how much he was for you. Tears ran down your cheeks as he rocked back and forth. It hurt so much, you couldn’t even make a noise to express it. But he was patient. He didn’t go any further than you’d let him, listening to your body.

“Slowly, slowly,” He whispered over you assuringly. As he moved his pelvis back and forth, he penetrated you to the same depth every time, but eventually, he got deeper as you accepted him. By then, most of the pain had subsided. He was just so big, the walls of your womanhood ached as he moved inside you. That ache then spread to your heart and mind.

But it ached so good, you couldn’t stop trembling.

You didn’t know what it was that made you tear up in pleasure. That it was Ivan who was inside you, or that he was so thick, he was filling you up until there was nothing left to fill. While his cock rubbed against your insides, it stretched you until your stomach bulged. And the sight was something else to behold, like you were trying to keep down all of his love in your body.

Being so much smaller than him, you almost couldn’t take him. But you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to try. And you made that apparent with the way you begged him wantonly, like you would die if he didn’t get to where you wanted him.

“Deeper, Ivan. Deeper,” You let out, tears falling from your hazy eyes as he rocked you back and forth.

You had completely lost control of yourself, but so would he. You wanted him so bad you were crying for him, and Ivan thought it was so cute, it drove him crazy. With a low, throaty moan, Ivan sunk himself all the way in, and without giving you any time to adjust, he started pounding you into the bed as hard as he could. The bed squeaked even faster and faster.

He was slapping his pelvis into you at a furious pace, and you were taking every inch of his massive cock every time. He even let out a few breathy utterances, praising you for how good you were being. He fucked you like this for a few more minutes, and when it wasn’t enough, he folded you in half like a pretzel to get even deeper. This was the position he stayed in until his first orgasm, loving how much he opened you up.

He splayed you apart until he was pushing both your knees into the mattress. You kept your eyes closed and head tilted away out of embarrassment, but he was infatuated with your shyness. After a few more strong thrusts, he snapped, eyes closed in pure bliss. Ivan smiled floatily as he came, shooting strong jets of cum into your core. While he ejaculated inside you, he stayed all the way in to let you feel his dick pulse.

And the satisfaction he felt made his mind go blank.

The only thing he knew was to go back to moving so he could ride out his orgasm. With his mouth agape, he rolled his hips into you in slow, fluid movements, pumping you full with his cum. He breathed heavily over you like a dog, brows twitching up and down in pleasure. When he finally finished, he laughed weakly as he basked in the aftermath of all the love-making.

Cumming inside you didn’t just feel like heaven.

Knowing the consequences and still doing it made it so hot, he couldn’t get off his high. It excited him to think what he was doing to you, something intimate but oh-so perverted. The fact that you let him do it only turned him on even more. So for the rest of the night, he couldn’t resist doing it again and again.

You and Ivan had sex for hours, rolling around the bed with your bodies connected like snakes in heat.

You’ve lost count of how many times you orgasmed, but he just couldn’t get enough. You never imagined how much of a sex fiend Ivan was, but turns out, you did all the right things to bring out this side of him. When you’d crawl away from him, he would pull you back to him in one quick movement. And when you tried stumbling to the bathroom, he yanked you back to keep fucking you. Ivan would then bend you over the desk and pound you doggy-style until he came.

When he pulled out, cum oozed from your hole.

You got so mad at him after that, you slapped him, but he couldn’t be affected by it anymore. He even liked it, because being hit by you felt no different to him than being kissed. So he simply turned back at you, chest still heaving from all the sex, and leaned in to kiss you. In that short moment before he put his mouth on yours, you saw that his nose was bleeding.

Your eyes widened with guilt, but it went away as he moved his lips fervently against yours. You hung off his neck as you kissed through his blood, tasting the iron that dripped into your mouth. Then, you were back to taking him like nothing happened. He would hold you against the wall standing, then roll his pelvis furiously into you. With the wall behind you, you had nowhere to go and was forced to take him. With his forehead flush against yours, he kept you in a dazed stare as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

His nose kept bleeding as he thrusted furiously into you, making for an erotic sight. Ivan just adored you so much, he wanted you even when you raised a hand at him. But he thought he deserved it. As he fanned his hot, labored breath over your mouth, he reached another hot orgasm, coming inside your womb. Your brows twitched in ecstasy as he kept rolling his hips, stimulating your clit from the inside, now dripping with cum. Either way, as push comes to shove, you would be making it up to him until morning.

When the sun came up, you and Ivan basked in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The soft sheets beneath you were damp from all kinds of body fluids, and he had dried blood over his mouth. You cleaned it carefully with a cloth dipped in some water, and after that, you two kissed, not minding each other’s morning’s breath. He couldn’t be any more satisfied with the developments, knowing you were finally his. He was now whole, having found his other half to forgive all that he lacked, and he would do the same.

“What do you want to do today?” You asked him as you lay on his chest, eyes still shut from exhaustion.

“I don’t know, I just want to lay in bed with you.”

“But that’s not productive.” You mumbled.

“Laying in bed with you is the most productive thing I could ever think of doing,” Ivan smiled tiredly under you, getting you to open your eyes to peer up at him in a shy look. “You are the activity, mishka.”

One week later, you were in a carriage on the way to a ball with him. And for the first time in a long time, you were excited to go. Ivan made balls enchanted again, simply because you would be dancing with him and nobody else. But you also knew his presence alone had that same effect. There were really people out there like him, and that made the world smaller — and righter — than you’ve always known it to be.

“You have to meet my cousin, Ivan. He’ll love you.”

“Of course,” He chuckled, having already heard of Gilbert and the role he played in introducing him to you, however incorrectly he had done it. It wasn’t in his nature to blame him, and he was more eager than anything to befriend your closest family member.

“Just don’t make him feel stupid, he hates that.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just something about you, everything you do feels intelligent,” You flickered your eyes over him as he sat across you quietly. Ivan had always been so calm and mature, but still able to humor your playfulness in private. It was one of your favorite parts about him. You saw sides of him that nobody else would, and it made up the world you had with him. “He’s already mad at me for ditching him to go with you today.”

“I understand,” He nodded.

You sat across each other in a comfortable silence, but he kept staring at you. His gaze on you was so tender, but also dazed and absent like he was thinking of something else entirely to this moment.

“What?” You frowned, slightly put off by the intensity of his scrutiny, when really, you were more flustered than anything. It looked like he had something salacious on his mind, but this was Ivan you were talking about. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from going, “Want me to slap some sense into you?”

It had been a joke to diffuse the tension, but it only seemed to encourage the sincerity of his feelings.

“I want to be your husband.” He said it with such a serious tone of voice, you couldn’t even brush it off.

Your face contorted with shock, but you were slowly overwhelmed with so much emotion that you turned beet red. You were on the verge of tears, and not just from happiness. You were relieved to hear that Ivan was ready to lay his life down for you, as much as you trusted that he would. But did he really have to say that right before meeting so many people?

You had changed him so much with your love, giving him so much confidence that you could hardly deal with your own creation. But if you asked him, Ivan was just being as passionate as you told him to be. To treat you like he was dancing with you. So he did what he wanted to, even if it was more bold and brazen than how anyone else would’ve gone about it. How he would’ve gone about it if he hadn’t met you.

By the end of the month, he proposed to you.

With a diamond-encrusted ring on your finger, you’d write to him as he served in Tashkent for one last time. Because once he’d return, you two would marry and start a new life together. A few years would pass before there would be the three of you. Ivan would carry a small child in his arms while he walked the streets of Moscow with you, only the first of many he would have with you as a product of your love.

Spring had only just begun, and Winter?

It would never be cold again.

#holy shit man

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generational-atrophy · 8 months ago

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OMG! I WAS LOOKING THROUGH UR BLOG CUZ MY HETALIA PHASE IS BACK AND WAS LIKE "I LOVE THIS WRITER SM WHERE ARE THEY" AND BOOM!

So request, if that's okay, the main 8 with a reader who cries during confrontations and or arguments. An imagine where ofc the main 8 says something hurtful and reader just covers their ears because 1.) Ears do be sensitive and 2.) It causes them to shut down completely

Can we know how they'd handle it plus how it'd go? Ty 💜

hetalia main 8 saying something they regret in an argument

2.8k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: they say hurtful things, and are kind of assholes in general lol

America - Alfred F. Jones

“I’m better than this. Why’d I keep someone as seriously uncool as you around?!”

Even as you immediately begin turning away from him, curling into yourself for comfort, Alfred would be less than sympathetic. If you’d ever doubted how self-centred he could be, this was more than enough evidence to prove it.

“What? What- just- don’t do that! You’re the one who started this!”

It’s unlikely he’d let up even after the tears start. He’s really that callous when he feels hurt. After a few tense minutes of silence broken only by your quiet whimpering, he’d start tearing up too. Not from guilt, seeing how much he hurt you. But instead from how he’s only now realizing he has to put his own feelings aside to take care of yours.

He’d approach you like a rabid animal, a lump stuck in his throat as he tries to say anything to get you talking again.

“Listen, it’s uh- not that serious. I’m sorry, ok? Let’s just… like- do something else?”

His comforting consists mostly of trying to get you out of your own head. Once it’s been long enough that you’re less scared, he’d take your hands away from your ears gently and kiss your cheek. If you’re sensitive to other things, he’d wrap his jacket around your shoulders and turn off the lights until you’re up and talking again.

“See? Not that hard, just like I said. Good job, babe… let’s just keep going like this, yeah?”

Somewhere, past all of the self-absorption and pride, he does have a heart. And that heart will immediately take you out to get ice cream. It’d take him a while to admit fault (and I mean real responsibility, not just his usual “sorry not sorry, move on,” schtick,) but maybe once your tear stains have dried, he’d realize what an ass he’d been.

England - Arthur Kirkland

“G*d, you’re pissing me off already! Just- fuck- get out of here if you hate us so much!”

Like usual. He’s desperate to just leave as soon as there’s conflict. It may be annoying, but at least he’s only doing it because he knows how awful he is when frustrated.

If you don’t take up his offer to abandon the conversation, he will. You’d have to be seriously struggling to keep him with you in that moment.

“Trust me, everything will be much, much worse if I stay…”

He’s always acting like that. It’s like his conscience disappears when he speaks, but only returns when he’s already said the hurtful thing. Never taking responsibility, always panicking and leaving just as your tears start to fall.

But, the more you tell him how much that hurts, the more he might be willing to stay.

It’ll take him a while to be able to choke out a cowardly “sorry,” but at least he’ll stop trying to push you away at every occasion.

“Wait- don’t cry so much love, I’m- I… I didn’t mean it. Ok? Is that better?”

It’s impossible for him to keep arguing once you’re truly upset. Instead, he’ll take you by the hand to the kitchen so he can start making tea for the two of you. In that silence, he encourages you to speak whatever awful thoughts you’re repeating to yourself. He’s just trying to get you in a comfortable environment again at that point.

Quiet affirmations are the only things he’ll bring, looking at you sympathetically and still holding your hand tight while you talk about whatever you want to. Whether that be something completely random, insults towards him, or actual constructive discussion is up to you.

At the end of the night, he’ll apologize. Not well, mind you, but enough to dissuade you from whatever hurt you earlier. All that matters to him is that you don’t go to bed upset.

“I’ll do better next time… or- I mean- I’ll do my best to… not be like that… again. Promise.”

France - Francois Bonnefoy

“But is it that impossible for you to put in some effort? It’s just… embarrassing to be with you right now!”

He’s always been a fighter for sport. When he argues with you, it’s not to prove a point. It’s probably not about anything he actually cares about either. He honestly just does it for fun. To him, arguing is how you really get to know someone.

So when you take his words to heart and, in the worst case, start crying, he just really doesn’t know what to do.

“Merde, darling, you know I wasn’t being serious! Come on now, don’t take it so personally…”

He may grumble about how he didn’t want you to get so upset, but at least he’ll still calm down and quit pushing you. Whatever tension there was before will dissipate as soon as he sighs, making his way over to you and wrapping you in his embrace. Unless that makes you even more uncomfortable, in which case he’ll just grab your favourite blanket and gently drape it over your shoulders.

“I am so sorry I made you so upset, I really didn’t mean it. You’re wonderful to me, always so stunning!”

For as long as you need him to, he’ll apologize over and over again, playing with your hair and wiping away your tears as delicately as he can manage. He may be just as upset as you are when he realizes what he did, but he’s shockingly good at compartmentalizing that when you need support.

But, if you focus too much on how he hurt you, he might start crying too. He can’t help it. Ignore him.

Either way, he’s there to hold you and validate you in whatever you might be feeling at that moment. Be as irrational as you need to be, he understands the urge well. And either way, he’ll just nod along to anything you say and insist it’s everyone else's fault. Including his, unlike basically every other man.

“How can you expect to survive when you hold all of this in? Please, always come to me even with small things, we share everything as lovers, yes? I cannot bear to see you as upset as this…”

China - Yao Wang

“Can’t you act your age? How do you expect anyone to put up with you like this?!”

As soon he says it, he knows that was an awful thing to say. He doesn’t need you to tell him, he can tell just by your expression that it was too far. You didn’t deserve that, he told himself.

But that doesn’t mean his ego is gonna let him give in so easily. Even if he was an ass, he still can’t let himself give up “authority” in a fight.

“Agh- that’s not… its not what I mean to say, alright?! So just… pretend I did not….”

If you quit fighting, instead becoming more upset, he’ll really struggle to calm down instead. Like, yes, he knows he should be trying to make you feel better, but that’s- he just doesn’t want to! He entered this fight with a purpose, and just because you’re crying doesn’t make that purpose any less important!

“Why won’t you argue back?! Aiyah, I knew you were childish but-”

Then he cuts himself off. Does he want to be the bigger person and apologize? No. But will he do it if you stop crying? Yes.

He’ll rest a hand on your arm and suggest in the gentlest voice possible that the two of you should go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help both of you clear your heads. He doesn’t know what must’ve happened to him to make him say all of those things either.

“I don’t think those thoughts, tiánxīn. I’m sorry I said it, I was upset but… I still should have known better.”

For as quickly as he’s willing to take responsibility, he’s not as much good at the “getting you out of breakdown” stage. Hopefully, you’ve already communicated with him about that so he knows to stop being so loud and trying to touch you. He’ll do whatever you request of him, but what’s best for you in that moment is probably not his first instinct.

“I’m sorry I was being such a huge ass. I love you, I promise.”

Russia - Ivan Braginsky

“You think you are special? I can beat sense into you just like I can them!”

Good luck getting him to understand that you can’t just threaten people within the next few hours. It will not work. When he’s angry, he really doesn’t care about feelings. Just about getting you to cooperate with whatever he says.

He may usually think of both of you as equals, but when you start seriously challenging his authority while he’s in a bad mood, it’s impossible for him to not be cruel. It’s always just better to leave than let him spiral and hurt both of you in the process

Although, he (obviously) would never actually put his hands on you. He just acts like a big baby and’ll stomp his feet and tell you whatever will get the most reaction out of you.

“Любимый, won’t you come out? I’m very sorry, I promise… can’t we just talk?”

But if you do remove yourself from the situation, he would never chase after you and force you to keep being in that awful environment. He knows better than that at least.

The moment you turn away and refuse to engage with his childishness, he’s already planning how to get you to forgive him. For as callous as it seems, your disapproval hurts him more than anything else. He would come to you on his knees, snivelling and pleading, if that was what he had to do just for you to look at him again

The moment you let him in though, he just rushes over and captures you in his arms. He would dry your tears as gently as he could, treating you like you were made of glass.

“Куколка, куколка, you know I never mean any of that, right? I’m sorry, sorry, please- please, forgive me? If I kiss it better, will you forgive me, любимый?”

He’s so pathetic. Ask anything of him in this state and he’ll do it without hesitation. Unless it’s staying away physically. He’ll be quiet and let you ignore him but don’t try to push him away or he’ll get whiney. If you stress that it isn’t personal enough, maybe he’ll let it go though.

North Italy - Feliciano Vargas

“Why aren’t I good enough? You always abandon me, like- like I’m nothing! Why do you hate me!?”

The moment either of you pick a fight, he’s already sobbing. Sure, he can argue with his brother for hours, but you matter to him in a much more vulnerable way. If you’re at all upset with him, he instantly feels like you don’t like him any more.

But when he feels attacked, he attacks just as much. In his subconscious, it’s always easier to push you away than have you abandon him yourself. That doesn’t result in very productive conversations, though.

“You’re just pretending you love me! You’re a liar, I- I know it!”

When you start crying along with him from all the awful things he’s said, two things can happen.

One, he cries harder, interpreting your hurt feelings as being an admittance to what he accused you of. Why would you be crying if it wasn’t from guilt, and why’d he say that when he so dreaded it being true?!

Or two, you’ll tell him about how truly terrible it feels to have him think those things about you, and he’ll snap out of it. His overwhelming emotions make him incredibly selfish at the moment, so he truly hadn’t considered how you felt from all of that.

Then he immediately lowers his voice, giving you plenty of space until you feel up to talking again.

“Oh… I’m sorry! I didn’t- you wouldn’t do that! I know that, you know that, so just- I’m sorry! Please, forgive me, amore mio dolce!”

He pulls you into a hug immediately, keeping the two of you as close as physically possible as he whispers promise after promise of his love. Until your tears dry, he won’t stop strangling you with unabashed affection, doing anything he can just to get you smiling again.

The feeling of guilt is not something he’s used to. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’ll start crying again too.

“If I ever make you feel bad again, please shut me up, please! I can’t take the thought of you so hurt by my words!”

Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt

“My word should be more than enough for you to shut up already!”

It’s exceedingly rare that he ever loses his temper around you like that. Normally, you’re the one thing that can always calm him down. Just looking at your face makes his chest fill with butterflies, drowning out whatever dark thoughts he’s having.

So, needless to say, he immediately regrets snapping at you. Immediately.

“Wait, no- no, I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t mean to. It’s not true, just- just stupid, I’m sorry, liebling…”

Whatever you two were arguing about is instantly forgotten as he rushes over to you and takes your face in his hands. It just breaks his heart to see you hurt, much more at his own actions. You don’t have to worry about him taking responsibility, he would never try to dodge the guilt of making you cry.

It’s not the first time he’s lost control, and he knows it’s his fault. But maybe if he takes you in his arms gently enough, rocking you back and forth as you cry into his shoulder, it’ll make it a little easier for you.

But if you just need a silent moment to yourself, that’s perfectly fine too. He’s autistic, so he certainly understands the feeling and will happily provide you with whatever comforting items you request.

“I’m sorry… you didn’t deserve what I said. I love you, please tell me you know that…”

Even if you pretend you weren’t that upset by it, Ludwig wouldn’t let it go like that. If he gets to his breaking point like that, whatever fight you were having is put aside for the night. Now all that matters to him is that the two of you make up and get back into how things were before as soon as possible.

Expect him to be beating himself up for a while though. He just wants you to know how sorry he is, how much he regrets snapping at you, even if it does seem a bit excessive. But he’s just had too many people he cared about leave to not make a whole thing out of it.

Japan - Kiku Honda

“Don’t you have any sense of personal space? You are like- choking me with all of… you! I can’t stand it!”

He’s a logical man. That’s one thing he always tells himself. Never, not even when he’s emotional, does he say things he doesn’t mean. Was the way he said it less than perfect? Yes, of course, he can’t believe he had just acted so impolitely, especially to someone who he cares so much for. But he still… meant what he said.

But, for the first time, as he watches your face break slowly, he’s not so sure of himself. Whether he meant it or not seems suddenly so inconsequential compared to the thought of hurting you. He… upset you? That wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Ah- why are you crying? What is wrong? You… you- it will be… alright, you know? You are ok!”

Wait- no, don’t cry more from that! He has absolutely no idea how to comfort you, but if he really has to, he’ll do his best. Although it’s a little difficult for him to resist drawing your hands away from your ears, he’ll do his best to just let you have your process (no matter what that means for you.)

Before you can even hear him coming closer, you’re suddenly drawn into an intimate hug. His hand drawing your head underneath his and kissing the crown of your head so lovingly, it's almost like another person possessed him as he turns so soft just at the sight of your tears

Would his pride usually reject this? Yes, but, it’s certainly not the first time he’s had to put that aside for you.

He’ll sputter generic apologies, purposefully hiding his grimace as he forces himself to forget about whatever you two were arguing about before. Well, at least for now. Most likely he’ll bring it up not long after, but in a much more… non-confrontational way.

“Let us go do something else instead, hm? You’ll only get more upset like this, and I want that as little as you want it.”

On one hand, he’s a little annoyed he had to put aside his own gripes to calm you down. But on the other hand, he hates conflict. Anything that gets you guys back to normal is worth it, especially if otherwise you’ll be crying in his arms. That’s his absolute nightmare.

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