starring. . . gender neutral, art-famous, country!reader and prussia, austria, & england.
requested by anon. masterlist ; here.
📌 . . . author notes: prussia & england meet reader here, austria & reader have a weird longterm situationship thing that gets resolved (wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t AT LEAST one complex relationship involved).
gilbert beilschmidt!
— you happen to be the personification of a country known for movies. your country’s covered every genre, though the most famous films from your country tend to fall under the horror genre, from body and psychological horror to slashers. your country’s enthusiasm for film has led you to bond a lot with alfred, another huge fan of films. through him, you met gilbert.
— “there’s a horror movie for everyone. you just haven’t found yours yet.” it was one of the first things you’d said to the prussian upon introduction. unbeknownst to you at the time, he’d always had a bit of a crush on you. after hearing that, he decided to embark on the brave and arduous journey to find his horror movie. how would he do this? by hanging out with you, silly! from that day on, he insisted on watching your country’s top horror films with you at least once a week, just to find his horror movie. being so close to you on your couch and holding you when he gets scared is just a bonus.
— he loves learning about film history from you. the more time the two of you spend together, the more he learns about not just horror movie history, but all movie history. your passion whenever you bring up a cinema fact is so cute to him. not to mention the way your eyes light up when he asks questions!
— oftentimes, he ends up holding onto you during your movie sessions. he likes to curl against you or hold your arm, sometimes even resting his head against your shoulder. he does this with all his friends, really, you can ask alfred or matthias. but with you, he holds on just a little bit tighter and moves just a little closer.
— one day, he invites you to a film festival in germany. he’s ecstatic when you say yes over the phone, fist-pumping the air as he celebrates in his room. not only would you be rooming with him for the weekend in his home country, you’d be spending the whole day with him enjoying german film culture. gilbert doesn’t label it as a date, but i promise you he treats it like one, holding your hand and grinning from ear to ear the whole time.
— “how about a romance film tonight?” you ask. it’d been a couple weeks since him asking you to the film festival and you’d realized half-way through that he’d been staring at you more than any of the films being played. time passed, and the two of you grew even closer, entering a sort of platonic-romantic limbo… until today, that is. as the two of you settle onto the couch, you reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “there’s a romance film for everyone, too,” you murmur, hoping he’d pick up on the subtle hint. when he leans over, kissing your cheek before resting his head on your shoulder, you smile. he definitely got the hint.
roderich edelstein!
— “architecture, huh?” he mused, “what an interesting specialty. i’m skeptical about buying a home in your country. though i must admit, the elegance of this house appeals to me…” he ran his hand along the walls of the house you’d been showing him. you were a country known for its brilliant buildings, innovative architecture, and beautiful homes. your country also happened to be a popular vacation spot, and edelstein was looking for a small place to stay temporarily, just to escape his troubles (and that damn prussian) for the summer.
— you only smiled. “i chose it just for you.” you could call it an old friendship, but really, it was more of an on and off again relationship. there were feelings between the two of you, feelings, good and bad, that were yet to be addressed. never to be addressed, if it was up to roderich. it was all too complicated. besides, he’s the one who broke it off… “there’s even space for your piano. or, a piano, if you’d rather not move your own. how’s that?” you add, your smile growing.
— well, that seemed to seal the deal. now it’s summer, and he’s here in his house in your country. for a month, you’d check up on him every day, stopping by to make sure he’s enjoying the beautiful serenity of your homeland. at first, this agitated him. he’d rather be left alone. still, when he saw your grin, those feelings came rushing back… and one day… “tell me about some of the famous buildings here,” he blurts before he can stop himself. “if you please,” he adds.
— thus starts a new daily ritual. you come by every day, pick him up in your small sedan (cars weren’t really big in your country) and drove him to a new building, a new feat in architecture. first, the home of your president. then, a historical law building. then a recent school, with shiny windows and statues of children at play, not to mention the museum you took him to, with its tuscan columns and grand steps. all the while, you explain the beauty of each place. you let your fingers linger against walls, and roderich lets his gaze linger upon you.
— he realizes, suddenly, in the midst of one of your architectural tours, that he wants the relationship on again. he wants to be with you, for real this time — not for political gain or for fun or because the loneliness of immortality was bearing heavy upon you both. no he.. wants be with you for you. your passion, your vision it’s… “incredible,” he murmurs aloud, looking at the monument in front of you both. “not... well, yes, the monument. but you, too. you’re incredible. i should’ve realized that ages ago.”
— “you should’ve,” you agree, staring at the monument. you pause before stepping closer, reaching for his hand. slowly, your hands intertwine, his fingers fitting perfectly in the groove in between your fingers. there’s a soft squeeze, though it’s hard to tell who squeezed who. there’s just warmth. “there’s always time to build a better foundation, when things are shaky,” you muse. edelstein turns to you, smiling before nodding. a better foundation. a better relationship with you.
arthur kirkland!
— “i’ve got a few famous books myself, you know,” he’d bragged upon meeting you, offering you a sort of awkward smile. your country was known for its amazing feats in literature, having produced several international classics. it’s not surprising that arthur would bring up literature when speaking with you. it was just weird how he was smiling and leaning on your desk as he spoke.
— “yeah?” your murmured, not looking up from your paperwork. he named a few, proud as a peacock, only to frown when you replied saying you didn’t know those were british books. “they’re british? that’s surprising.” it was an innocuous response in your eyes, but for him it was an insult. from then on, he set out to share with you as many acclaimed british books as possible.
— as you shook hands with alfred, ending another world meeting, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. turning around, you raised an eyebrow. “arthur,” you greet him, holding out your hand for a handshake. instead, what you got was a book in your hands. pride and prejudice. you glanced his copy of the book over, noting the various sticky notes sticking out. when you opened the book and flipped through the pages, you noticed his handwriting in the margins.
— “here. it’s my own copy, so i’ll need it back, but i think pride and prejudice is a good place to start,” he explains, “the first of many great british classics i’ll be sharing with you. and then, we can move onto more modern pieces.” when you inform him that you’ve already read pride and prejudice, arthur merely waves a hand dismissively. “but now you know it’s british. and you have my notes for context. just read it again.” he pauses before adding, “you can think of me when you think of mr. darcy.” … odd, but okay.
— when you return pride and prejudice to him, he hands over wuthering heights. after that comes jane eyre, then emma, animal farm, 1984, sense and sensibility, the picture of dorian gray, and now, right now, he’s handing over romeo and juliet. each book was his own personal copy, with his notes sticking out the sides and his handwriting littering the margins. even when you’d already read the book, you accepted his copy of it. it was nice to read his thoughts, see his handwriting… he looks up at you expectantly, cheeks surprisingly flush as your fingers brush his during the trade off.
— “check the inner cover,” he says, his eyes watching your expression as you do so. to my juliet, from romeo. may we never end so tragically. “i thought that was blatant enough to catch your attention, my juliet,” he murmurs, shifting awkwardly, “so what do you think?” flirting, he’s been flirting with you. in a very stupid, overly complicated, and uniquely him way, he’s been flirting with you by lending you books.
— “i think you need to work on your flirting,” you chuckle some, taking the book in one hand. with your free hand, you grasp one of his own, pulling him closer before kissing his cheek. “i think i’ve found my favorite british classic, though.” when you notice him glancing at romeo and juliet you shake your head — “no, you. i meant you, arthur.”
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Hello!!! Your writing is so good i absolutely adored the Hungary hcs! Would it be alright to request something similar for Austria ? ( ˃͈◡˂͈ )
oh, cupid walks right through
pairing: Roderich Edelstein (Austria) x gn!reader
summary: what it's like meeting and dating Roderich
a/n: ty for the request anon! I tried to keep a similar vibe to the hungary post but tbf its been a minute. I hope you enjoy!
cw: none , gn!reader (implied to play an instrument)
· · ─ ·ʚ pre-relationship ɞ· ─ · ·
᯽ When Roderich first met you at an orchestral performance, you were playing the viola and he was playing the piano. During all the rehearsals, his first impression of you was pure admiration.
᯽ Roderich was encapsulated by the way you were able to easily translate the sheet music into beautiful melodies.
᯽ Unsurprisingly, he was the one to first approach you after the group performance. Roderich had asked you if you had wanted to work with him in future pieces as a duo and to his surprise you said yes!
᯽ Over the course of the several weeks of you and Roderich got closer whilst working on songs, and soon your relationship grew stronger. He also found himself seeking out comfort with you. A mutual fuzzy feeling.
· · ─ ·ʚ current relationship ɞ· ─ · ·
᯽ The first time you two shared a kiss, it was quick and messy, but sweet all around. Roderich was slightly inexperienced and had no idea how to approach the kiss in the first place. However, after he got the hang of it, the way you two held each other was like two peas in a pod.
᯽ After any of Roderich’s performances, he’d take you out to dinner at a quiet, small restaurant. “Let me treat you, sweetheart.”.
᯽ He doesn’t consider himself a materialistic man, but he does adore gifting you things like Edelweisses (his favorite flower), some austrian sweets, or books he found as he was shopping that reminded him of you.
᯽ Even for a man in love, Roderich doesn’t concern himself with PDA. After some time with you though, he warmed up to holding hands in public with you.
᯽ Roderich is more of a morning person, so he enjoys waking up before you to cook you breakfast in bed, waking you up and planting a small kiss in between your eyes.
᯽ He honestly loves you so much that ever since you two first got together, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.
hey , You told me to send you an individual Austria request so you'd remember, so here it is !! Can you for Buttercup ,Clematis , Gypsophilia , Iris and Monkshood for austria please !
Flower Alphabet ~ aph Austria
Buttercup - How do they feel about children? Would they want any? What kind of parent would they be?
To be frank, Roderich isn't all that fond of children. They can be sweet on occasion, yes. And there was that period of time he looked after Feliciano when he was young, but that was more akin to a master-servant relationship than anything, albeit with the occasional warm moment shared between the two. All of this is to say, Roderich wouldn't necessarily want any children of his own. However, if you were to get pregnant, he'd step up to the plate as a father.
Now, I promise I'm not trying to sound too negative, but Roderich would be a rather strict and overbearing parent. He'd have hard-set rules on curfews, how they acted in public, how they spoke, how they dressed, etc. As a father, he sees his main responsibilities as making sure his children are successful and able to make it on their own in the world. He loves them, yes. But as someone who didn't grow up with the most loving or attentive father figure, he finds it quite difficult to know what to do. He genuinely tries, and you'll probably have to help teach him how to be a better parent.
Clematis - Would they like to travel with you? Or are they more content staying at home?
While definitely a homebody, he's not as much of an introvert as his German cousin. Roderich would rather stay home with you, writing and composing music, sharing a cup of coffee whilst chatting about the day, etc. However, he'd be happy to indulge in the occasional trip to the countryside and even travel to different locations around central Europe. However, the longest trip he'd be willing to take is a solid week and nothing more. The poor man cannot be away from his piano for too long.
Gypsophilia - Do they contemplate marriage? Would they ever want to get married? How would they propose?
Roderich is absolutely the kind of man to contemplate marriage, especially after meeting you. He'd need about two years' worth of dating to be sure you're the one, but after he's sure, he isn't wasting any time. But this doesn't mean the proposal will be hasty and rushed. Oh no, he intends to make this the most incredible, special, and romantic moment of your entire life. When he proposes, he's going all out. And it'll be the most over-the-top, overtly romantic scene you've ever witnessed. Think of a gazebo draped in your favorite flowers on a lovely spring day, Roderich wearing a white suit as he plays on his violin a new composition just for you. All about you. After which, he drops to one knee to propose. (Though he's a bit of a nerd and may accidentally drop the ring at one point, but it's the thought that counts!)
Iris - Do they get jealous easily? When they do get jealous, how do they behave?
Link to Iris for Austria here.
Monkshood - What is their love language? How does it manifest?
Whereas Roderich shows his love for you through gift-giving, he prefers to be shown love through acts of service. Nothing too big or over-the-top, mind you. He treasures the little things you do. The way you brew his coffee just the way he likes it. How you help lay out his clothes in the morning. How you assist him in his music, giving him ideas and recommendations on how to improve a piece. Little acts of service, especially when they are sudden or unexpected, cause him to fall in love with you all over again. And he wonders how he got so lucky to have a woman like you in his life. <3
This is written for a female reader but there isn't really anything specific that would suggest that besides a few references. If you want to read, I'm not going to stop you.
Also (Y/n) is completely uninterested in the countries for the majority of this, all she's interested in is the cats. This is way fluffier than anything else I've posted, which is two things, and this part is relatively America-centric because (Y/n) works for him. This is also way less quality work than those two posts but idk deal with it?
There is more to this but it's unfinished and I'll probably never post it. My friend also helped with the cat names so if you don't like them... uh assume that they chose them. One last note, I thought it would be funny to write the accents so you also have to deal with that.
As one of the many secretaries working in the White House, it was actually quite a surprise to you that you ended up as the main secretary to the human personification of the U.S.A.
Because of this, you had become quite close to Mr. F. Jones and more importantly: his cat.
You couldn't help but coo at the adorable and floofy feline. Sure, you should probably finish filing those papers, but national security can wait a few more minutes. Besides you couldn't resist the allure of the purr. It would be an understatement to say, when you learned that the other personifications also had furry friends of their own, you were excited.
America didn't want you interacting with the other countries, especially not Russia. But you honestly didn't care and you weren't the recording secretary for those meetings, so it's not like you were in attendance anyways. That somehow didn't stop you from having to tag along and meeting more nation cats; of which you weren't sure why they had brought them along in the first place. It's not like you were complaining.
Ball of fur after ball of fur. No cat went un-petted. Except for Germany's cat; he had evaded you time and time again. But no longer! For today was the last day and you were going to pet that cat if it was the last thing you did.
There it was. It's sleek black fur, the ribbon in Germany's signature colors around its neck, and that always alert look on its face. He would evade you no more. You crouched down in your very inflexible pencil skirt and prepared to pounce.
"Vhat are jou doing?" A voice thick with a German accent called out, startling you and the cat who decided to bound back towards him and into his arms.
"Uhhhh." You blanked.
"You're America's secretary right? Vat vere jou trying to do to my cat?" He questioned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
You gulped and tried to explain your actions in a way that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.
"I-uh. I wanted to pet your cat and… he kept evading me and I thought if I snuck up on him that I could pet him." You looked away and pitifully whispered, "Sorry."
"If jou vanted to pet him, all you had to do was ask."
"Really!?" Your eyes lit up and you looked up at the German with pure and unbridled excitement. He coughed and looked away with a slight blush resting on his cheeks.
"Of course." He held the cat out. You, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately started to adore and love the cat, even shifting it from Germany's arms to your own.
As you continued to pet the cat, who despite his earlier refusal, seemed quite happy, you asked Germany a question. "My name's (Y/n). What's yours if you're willing to share? No pressure though."
His eyes widened a bit before he shook it off and gave you an answer. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He responded, studying his cat. "Germouser seems to like jou."
You could barely stifle a laugh at the name he had given to the black cat. He sensed your amusement and gave an explanation.
"Feli- Italy named him. I vas going to name him Johann or something similar. Italy was zoroughly horrified by my suggestions and vould not rest until I vent vith his."
You smiled at the Italian's antics and shook your head with amusement. "Germouser is a fine name for an absolutely wonderful cat."
Germany seemed to get flustered again as he watched you coo at his cat, completely ignoring his presence. He would have just left him with you, but the meeting was starting soon and he didn't want to be late. Luckily for him, America decided to pop around the corner, demanding your attention. So you were forced to give up the precious kitty cat and return with Mr. Jones.
Alfred was annoyed. Not at you but at everyone else. Why did they have any right to be around you? You were an American citizen. His citizen. Sure, all you were really interested in was their cats. But what if you thought that they and their cats were so cool that you left him and went to live in a different country instead? He couldn't let that happen.
"So, (Y/n), dude, broette." He said on the way to the meeting room. "Here's the deal."
You gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.
"I need someone to watch Hero for me and my sitter flaked so you're gonna be watching him." He fingered-gunned at you and stars seemed to shine in the air around him. This, of course, was nothing new to you. It wasn’t like you would have rather been attending the meeting anyways.
So you stayed in a different unoccupied meeting room with a lovely, furry friend. It wasn't until he started hissing at a corner that you were in trouble.
"Hero, what's wrong?" You asked, concerned at the agitated cat. His tail bristled up and his ears flattened down as he took a defensive position. Out of nowhere another fluffy cat waltzed in from the very corner that Hero had been hissing at. It was Boris, a cat that belonged to Russia.
You hadn't actually gotten to pet him yet because to be honest, you were also scared of Russia. But… He wasn't around… and his cat was. And his cat was purring.
That was about all the reasoning that you needed to brush past Hero and scoop Boris up into your arms. The former started yowling for your attention and followed you as you went to sit down with the Russian cat.
You laid down on the plush carpeted floor and lifted the cat that you were holding up above you. Boris’ fluffy body was placed onto your chest and he immediately started purring louder once he got comfortable. He nuzzled his face into your neck, much to the annoyance of the American cat. Hero yowled at you and pawed at Boris, desperately trying to get him off.
Boris only gave him a smug look in return and kneaded into you, further solidifying his spot. Hero decided that it wasn’t worth the fight and that he was going to get his owner to remove the Russian cat and put him back into his mother’s lap: aka you.
The surprisingly smart and agile cat leapt around the room and pushed down the door handle, slipping out through the crack. You didn’t notice this as you were currently immersed in the bliss of a cat sitting on you and letting you pet it.
Eventually the purring lulled you into a peaceful and warm slumber, the two of you deciding to take a cat nap.
It would be Russia who found you first. Ivan realized that his cat had gone missing and he honestly didn’t care enough about the meeting to stay. It's not like anyone would try to stop him.
So as Hero bounded down the halls towards the meeting room, Mr. Ivan Braginsky came from the other direction; his sense of where his cat was at any one moment was completely uncanny.
The Russian gradually opened the wooden door and it quietly opened without any resistance. He turned his head towards where he heard purring and was met with a surprising sight. It was America’s secretary, with his cat, lying, with his cat.
You were breathing softly and the movements of your chest moving up and down also moved Boris. Ivan couldn’t help but faintly smile at the sight. Said cat opened a singular eye to acknowledge the new presence in the room. He flicked his tail and settled back into his spot. Not wanting to bother you or the cat, Ivan pulled out a chair and sat down.
He pulled out some paperwork, seemingly from nowhere, and began to work on it. The sounds of your quiet breathing, combined with the light purr from Boris, made for a calming work environment.
As the three of you remained in peaceful bliss, another kitty cat was running around the corner on the never ending search for food. Itabby trotted up and down the corridors looking for an open door that might lead to some food that didn’t come from England. Her golden fur glimmered as the sun shined through the many windows in the building. She looked over at a door that had opened slightly and was too blinded by the thought of food to notice the scarily familiar scent coming from the room.
Itabby scampered over to the door but screeched and meowed as she was sent flying by an American blonde and his equally irritated cat. She tentatively peered around the door at the scene forming.
“HEY!” Alfred yelled, startling both you and the cat. You shot up straight, Boris falling into your lap. “What are you doing with her?!” He yelled again, getting his face up into Ivan’s. The other man gave him an unamused look and stood up, towering over him. Alfred, despite this, did not back down and continued to stare angrily at him.
“Go away.” The white-haired male said, his accent heavy as he crossed his arms. “You have startled them with your unnecessary noise. You are just like the rest of your country.”
The air tensed and became heavier as the seconds went on. They began to size each other up as Hero, ironically, “heroically” walked proudly over to you and with his front paws, pushed Boris off of your lap. He quickly took his place and started purring. Boris’ fur began to puff up as he hunched down and prepared to pounce. His back legs flexed and he made the jump, sending both him and Hero flying towards their fighting owners, who were remarkably somehow not in a physical fight. Yet.
You very quickly realized that you did not want to be in the middle of two superpowers fighting and quietly took your leave. (E/c) eyes met feline amber ones and you swept up the cat and made your escape, leaving behind the feuding men and cats.
Itabby snuggled into your arms as you finally slowed down to catch your breath. Her round tail whooshed back and forth as you tiredly walked through the long hallway. The two of you eventually ended up in the rose gardens of the meeting building. The area was well taken care of and beautiful if you did say so yourself. The meeting was taking place in England and Mr. Jones had told you about how the Brit enjoyed gardening, so it made sense as to why it was here.
Speaking of the British, you spotted a fluffy feline shape from the corner of your eye. It was deeper into the gardens and among the trees. Itabby finally decided that it was time to go and return to her owner. She gracefully leaped out of your arms and landed on all fours and trotted off to beg Italy for some pasta. You instead continued your approach to the cat, which at this point, you could tell was a Scottish Fold.
The left side of his face was brown and so was his tail. Alike to his owner, he seemed to have what you assumed were some kind of eyebrows and when he opened his eyes to look at you, his olive eyes stared into yours. He flicked his tail and layed back down onto the wall that he was laying on. His collar jingled as he moved and you quietly moved up to him. On the gold circle attached to the same olive color collar, was a name.
‘Scone’ You thought. ‘Oh my god. This is the most English cat name I have ever seen.’
You almost started laughing but the smoldering glare the cat gave you made you think otherwise. The stone wall was surprisingly cold for the summer sun and as you sat down, you took a look at Scone. He seemed to still be quite grumpy, but he knew you from earlier in the week, so he was not alarmed. You lifted up and moved your left arm forward to start petting him.
Scone was soft and clearly well-taken care of. His fur was clean and had no knots or dirt insight, despite laying around a garden for half a day. You continued your actions and the both of you started to fall back into slumber. Your hand hovered on the back of the feline and your head slumped alongside your body.
It was peaceful. With birds chirping and the wind lightly blowing. There was a river babbling somewhere in the background and it made for a serene scene. The only reason he had let you pet him was because you had fed him earlier in the week. He didn’t have his collar at that point so this was the first time you had gotten his name. Your eyes closed as you recalled the event from a couple of days prior.
The day after the plane landed you were on the hunt for felines. Armed with some cat food, a retractable mouse-on-a-stick and hope, you made your way around the building England had set aside for housing the rampant countries, and byproduct, their cats. France’s cat, Monsieur, was an absolute attention wh-. He really liked attention, and would rub himself against your leg anytime the two of you crossed paths. It’s not like France, or Francis, was much better.
It’s not like you minded petting him. He was adorable after all. The cat, not Francis. But you had wanted to meet as many other cats as you could and so you had to stop by Francis’ room multiple times to drop off Monsieur.
“Je suis désolé.” He said, taking Monsieur out of your arms. “He keeps getting out. But I guess he knows when there’s a lovely lady around.”
You ignored his attempts at flirting and instead scratched Monsieur’s chin one last time before leaving. He purred at you and while you felt bad about leaving him, you were on a mission! Besides, you had a certain Japanese cat to track down. Monsieur meowed at you as you walked down the hallway and if you didn’t know better you’d say so did Francis.
Either way, nothing was going to stop you from petting Tama, Japan’s cat. He was an adorable little black and white feline with the cutest little bob for a tail. You had actually spotted him earlier and was about to go up to him before Monsieur literally jumped into your arms, demanding attention. Of course you weren’t going to say no so Tama quickly left your sight as you went to return Monsieur.
Wait, isn't Monsieur just sir in French? Oh well there was no time to think about questionable cat names, this building was full of them.
Monsieur wasn’t the only attention whore of a cat. Prussia’s cat, Purrussia, wasn’t much better. He would follow you down hallways and meow with his scratchy meow at you while Austria’s cat, Allegro, whined behind him. He literally tried to jump up at you a few times.
Of course both of them were interrupted when Hero ran straight at you and tackled you like a professional linebacker. You had thought that it was mostly fluff, but no, apparently Hero could pack a punch. He knocked the wind out of you as you fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The cat sat proudly on you and looked around like he was waiting for something or someone. Whoever he was waiting for, however, wouldn’t show up fast enough to see Purrussia return the favor and tackle Hero off of you, much to Allegro’s horror.
The white cat had a German ribbon as well but it looked like it was fraying at the edges. The reason you were bringing this up was because Hero was currently using one of the edges to try to choke Purrussia and Allegro was using the other to try to pull Purrussia away from Hero. Neither was really working and all it was really doing was making Purrussia more and more agitated.
“PURRUSSIA!!!” A shrill voice yelled out from down the hallway.
The cats stopped their roughhousing to see two of the countries barrelling down towards them. Well Prussia was. Austria was slowly walking over, looking more inconvenienced than anything else.
“Purrussia! Purrussia!” Prussia reiterated, pulling his cat up by its arms. “Did jou vin?!”
Everyone but the two Prussians stared in disbelief at his statement. The albino feline furiously nodded his head and if he could have talked you would have imagined that he would have been saying, ‘I’m awesome!’
Hero angrily meowed down below, as if to oppose Purrussia’s non-verbal statement. Allegro just haughtily licked his paw and stuck his nose up as if to pretend that he was disgusted with their fighting as if he hadn’t just been a part of it. Austria picked up his in-denial cat and you picked up Hero who calmed down as soon as you did.
“Sorry about him.” You said, brushing his unruly fur down with your hand. “He gets a little competitive.”
“Ja. It’s fine.” Austria said, petting his own cat. “Purrussia is not much better.”
“HEY!” Prussia yelled. “My awesome Purrussia is doing his best! And besides, at least he actually does something!”
“Jour cat picked a fight vith a vall (wall) Gilbert.” Austria sassed.
“Vell jour cat’s piano playing is trash!”
Austria gave a gasp of horror before inching closer to the Prussian.
“Jou take zat back, RIGHT NOW!”
Prussia just laughed, still letting Purrussia’s back paws dangle as he held him like one would a toddler. He got in close to the Austrian’s face, smiling deviously at him.
“Nein.”
He suddenly, while still holding Purrussia, took off, running away from Austria. He wasn’t far behind though and you could hear the man yelling in German all the way down the far corridor.
“Well Hero.” You said, looking down at the cat who had made himself very comfortable. “That was weird.”
He just snuggled closer to you and you sighed. You scratched him once more before heading down the opposite hallway. The destination was clear, before you could continue your cat quest, you’d have to get this one safely back to its owner.
You suddenly snapped back to reality, still sitting on the wall. The sun was now high in the sky and the spot underneath you was no longer cold. You were especially warm as you now had a Scottish Fold sitting comfortably upon your lap. Quietly cooing at the cat, you looked to see if there was any way to escape your furry prison. The most important rule of cats: once a cat sits on you, you’re not moving until they do.
You sighed, legs uncomfortably stiff. Scone was far more content and his bushy tail occasionally brushed against your leg. It was incredibly cute but it didn’t make your back stop hurting from being hunched over for the last half hour.
Voices came from farther within the garden. There were two people currently engaged in a soft conversation. You caught bits and pieces of it; there was a man with a British accent and a man with what you thought was American until you heard him say ‘aboot.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at your own observation, disturbing Scone in the process.
He scornfully meowed at you and you offered pets in an apology. Around the corner turned Scone’s owner and a man who looked incredibly similar to America. They both turned to look at you when the Scottish Fold you were fondling stretched out to impossible lengths and complained like a cat while he did it. England looked down at your lap to see his cat very happily cushioned on your thighs. The man next to him was also holding a cat who again looked very similar to America’s.
They were clearly different though. This man’s hair was more auburn and his eyes were a shade of impossible purple. There was also more of a wave to it whereas America’s hair was as straight as hair comes. Familiarity lit up in your eyes, not for the man however.
“Maple!” You exclaimed, wanting to go to the cat but also not willing to disturb the one on you. “How have you been?”
The men stared at you, wondering if you were talking to them or the cat. Of course Maple himself answered this as he jumped out of his owner’s arms and darted over to you. He gracefully climbed up the small wall and placed himself down by you. Scone was on your lap and he was nicer than Hero so as to not push him off. You moved one of your arms to pet Maple and kept the other on Scone. They were so cute you felt like you were going to explode.
“Oh.” A quiet voice spoke out. It came from the man behind England. “You’re Alfred’s secretary right?”
You smiled and nodded at the man. “And I assume that means you’re Canada, right?”
He looked a tad taken aback before nodding himself. “Yeah…” He trailed off and England instead picked up the conversation.
“I thought you were supposed to be watching his furrball cat, Hero.” He walked over and leaned against the wall.
“I was. But then he and Boris got into a catfight… and then America and Russia got into a catfight.”
Canada laughed in the background but quickly covered it up. England stared at Scone, looking to see if there was anyway to get him off of you without being scratched himself. He had enough injuries, that should have scarred had he not been a country, from the cat. He shivered a bit, though also began to pet the feline, scratching his under the chin.
“That sounds like those two.”
You hummed in agreement, continuing your affections. Canada also came over to pet his own cat who ironically did smell like maple syrup.
“Can I make you the villain of this story?” You asked England, gesturing to Scone. “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”
“Oh I suppose I can assume that role.” He mused, carefully picking up his cat. He was not happy to be moved but England just shushed him.
Canada also picked up his cat who was slightly nicer about the whole thing. He fidgeted with Maple’s ear as he held him.
“I’m Matthew.” He said, carefully shifting Maple so he could put one arm out to shake your hand.
You finished the formal greeting. “I’m (Y/n).”
The other blonde butted in from the background. “I’m Arthur, love.”
“It’s very nice to formally meet both of you. Seeing you from across a meeting room doesn’t really count.” You smiled and gave a small pat to each of the feline’s heads. “Well I wasn’t kidding about needing to get somewhere. I really didn’t mean to get stopped as long as I did.”
You playfully glared at the Scottish Fold sitting comfortably in his owner's arms. He promptly ignored you, instead turning around cutely. England apologized but you told him it was fine. You were at least 50% sure that Mr. Jones was probably still fighting with Russia. Those two really were like angry cats. You waved the two men off and went on your way to find out the answer to that question.
Instead of coming across two feuding superpowers, you came across two of the Asian nations’ cats. You had already met them both but this was the first time you were seeing them together. Tama was sitting up high on a shelf while China’s cat, Meowzedong, was angrily meowing at him from down below. Everytime he tried to climb up, Tama would use a paw and swipe a book or other object down at him.
You flinched as a very breakable, very expensive-looking, vase crashed down. It was this movement that alerted the two cats to your presence and Meowzedong wasted no time at all to come over to you and complain. Now you couldn’t exactly speak cat but you got the jist.
Bending down, you carefully picked up the cat. Meowzedong always had a weird clump of fur that looked almost like a ponytail that, no matter how much China cut it, always grew back. He yowled at you and pointed a furry paw in Tama’s direction. The other cat had already loafed on top of the high shelf and you looked at him, back at Meowzedong, back at Tama, and then back at Meowzedong again.
“I don’t know how tall you think I am but I’m not that tall.”
Meowzedong just narrowed his eyes and meowed at you again. You sighed, looking back at Tama. If he had a long enough tail to flick it at you he would’ve. Sensing the futility of his quest, Meowzedong instead spread himself out in your arms and if you didn’t know better you would have said that he was mocking Tama. And if you really didn’t know better you’d say that it was working and that the bobtail was getting more irritated by the second. The personifications might have had to act cordial but their cats had no such qualms.
Finally, Tama de-loafed himself and gracefully hopped down a few other layers before reaching the bottom. He gracefully walked over to you and sat on your foot… Well shoot. What were you supposed to do now?
So here you were, from one cat prison to the next. Standing in the middle of some random, out-of-the-way hallway because the nations’ cats were all attention-hogging, though very adorable, brats.
You didn’t know how much time had actually passed. There was no clock in the hallway, you didn’t wear a watch, and both of your hands were occupied so you couldn’t check your phone. As cute as they were, your legs felt like they were about to collapse in on themselves. You couldn’t even shift how you were standing because Tama had taken it upon himself to lay across both of your shoes. Your arms also felt like they were going to fall off at any second. Meowzedong wasn’t a particularly heavy cat but try holding anything over five pounds for longer than five minutes.
You were desperately hoping that either they would finally get bored and leave or someone would come to save you. Wow you guessed you really did need a “Hero” right about now… Dammit you thought that referencing needing a hero in your head would magically summon America or his equally hotheaded cat.
“Tama. Meowzedong.” You murmured. “Can you please get off?” You hoped to whatever god or gods were out there that they didn’t hear the desperation in your voice. Never show weakness to a cat.
The two cats made eye contact with each other for a moment and seemed to come to an agreement. Meowzedong stretched his body out before jumping onto the ground. Tama did the same but instead greeted Meowzedong when he landed.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you said that you collapsed onto the wooden floor below. You quickly got up however as you didn’t want them to see it as another chance to sit on you. At least not right now. You pulled out your phone to see all of the messages and calls you missed. You had put it on silent while watching Hero and forgot to turn it back to vibrate.
‘Oh my god Mr. Jones called me twenty-three times.’ You thought, frantic. ‘I’m gonna be in so much trouble!’
You raced down the hallway, startling a group of micronations as you went. There was no time to apologize! You had to keep your job! If not for you then for the cats!
Not even thinking to knock you burst open the door where America was staying, side note why wasn’t it locked? And were greeted with the sight of!... Mr. Jones… crying? His cat looked pretty dejected too and was currently hanging himself off the side of the bed like a rug.
“Sir?” His head shot up to look at you.
He quickly snapped his head back away, mushing at his face in an attempt to try to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.
“(Y-Y/n)” He stuttered for a second, before immediately going back to the hero persona. “Where’ve you been!?”
“Are you okay?” You ignore him, instead asking your own question.
You titiled your body to look at what he was looking at… Was that a framed picture of you?!
It didn’t matter because he was very quickly all in your face again. You could see what seemed to be a rapidly healing black eye and a tooth that hadn’t fully regrown in yet as he smiled at you. Just how long was he fighting with Russia for?
You sat him down on his bed, considering if you should even bother getting a medkit for him. Either way you ended up spending the rest of the day with him, watching movies and sitting what you considered a good ways away from each other on the plush couch. He apparently had a nicer room in all of England’s properties from when he used to live there during parts of the year.
Hero filled the gap in-between you of which America was mildly annoyed about. He kept trying to get you to use ‘Alfred’ but you insisted that it was unprofessional. He’d close the gap one day.
It was finally december! Little baby Italy looked out the window in the morning, to see a thick blanket of snow covering the ground, with more falling every second that passed. He gasped and dropped down from the kitchen chair he was on.
“Really?” She looks down at him and picks him up. “It came a bit late this year, hmm?”
Italy happily snuggles into her. “Can we go make snow angels? Por favore!”
“Let’s have some breakfast first, okay? Then we need to find you some winter clothes, and maybe you can ask [Name] to take you. I have a lot of chores to do today.” Hungary says, carrying Italy to the kitchen where Austria was almost done with breakfast.
After a happy, healthy breakfast, Italy approached [Name], who was sitting and watching Austria and Hungary run around. “Mx. [Name]! Will you look for a coat with me, please, and come play in the snow?”
“Little Italy!” They happily pick him up and place him on their lap. “That sounds like so much fun! I’m sure Austria has an old coat you can borrow.” They stand up and begin walking to an old storage room in the house.
“Mr. Austria’s coat? But that’ll be way too big on me!” Little Italy claims.
“He was as little as you once. Hehe, I remember how adorable he was. Me and Austria have been friends for a while now, did you know that? I have all kinds of embarrassing stories about him.”
“As little as me? Really?” Italy gasps, “Have you known Ms. Hungary for a long time too?” he smiles hopefully.
“No, not really. I got to know her just a little before you.” [Name] says as they reach the storage room. They put Italy down and open the door, turning the old light on. “Wow, it sure is dusty in here.”
Italy followed behind, looking at all the high stacked boxes. The storage room was messy, and Italy wasn’t allowed here without permission, which he never really got even if he asked nicely. The most he had seen inside was when Hungary had to go fetch something from there.
After a bit of searching through Austria’s old clothes that he hadn’t thrown away, saying he’ll tailor them to fit again, [Name] holds up a tiny coat. It was a little worn down, but it’d do the trick. “Try this one on!” [Name] says and helps Italy get the coat on.
“It’s a little big…” Italy comments and flaps his arms a little.
“That should be fine. Next, let’s get you some gloves and a hat! And boots too of course!” [Name] says, taking the coat off so Italy wouldn’t get hot.
The two search the old clothes boxes more, until Austria comes in. “I have been looking for Italy all over! What is he doing here? It’s dangerous, the loose items could fall on top of him.” He fusses and sighs. “I thought you’d at least be a little responsible, [Name].”
“Don’t worry, Austria! I’ll keep him safe! We were just looking for your old winter clothes so we could go out and play in the snow… And help Hungary with the chores too, of course.” [Name] assures.
“My old clothes?” Austria comes over and sits with the two, looking at the old box in front of [Name].There were articles of clothing scattered on the floor around them. “Was it impossible for you to just put them away neatly?” He glares a little.
“Haha, whoops! Anyway… Do you want to help us search?”
Italy smiles and watches the encounter between the two adults. Even though Austria could be scary and mean sometimes, he was a little amusing.
Finally, after some time and arguing, the clothes to keep Italy warm are found.
“Let’s go show Hungary your new clothes and then go play.” [Name] says, taking Italy’s hand and walking outside with him.
Hungary was shoveling snow around the house. She looks over to [Name] and Italy once she hears them waves them over.
“Awww! Aren’t you just so adorable?” She crouches down and pinches Italy’s cheek. “Do you want to help me shovel the snow? We can make a big snow mountain and then sled down it!”
Hungary gets Italy a little shovel to help her. Austria watched from a little ways away.
“I’ll go handle the backyard. Do you want to come with me, [Name]?” Austria asks, looking at them.
“Yeah, sure. Let’s make an ice piano!”
“No.”
After a few hours, both the back and front yard were less hazardous and more walkable. [Name] was spreading little pebbles on the walk path to make sure no one slips. Italy was climbing the little snow mountain that was born from all the shoveled snow. Hungary laughed and watched over Italy, clapping and complimenting his bravery and making sure he gets caught in case he slips.
Austria was walking behind [Name] to make sure they weren’t slacking off while spreading the pebbles. He walked over the path multiple times and nit-picked a little on where to add more pebbles.
“Do you want an old man to fall and crack his head open?! Add more here!” Austria points in front of his feet. “I’m not even going to walk over this. It’s too dangerous.”
“There’s barely even any ice! But fine…” [Name] pours more pebbles around the area and sighs. “Seriously, we’re going to have to do this all again in two days when it snows even more. Shovel, sand… Play.” They look over to Italy and Hungary.
Austria looks over too. “Well, they sure look like they’re having fun.” He crosses his arms, trying to keep his cold hands warm.
[Name] smiles and turns back to Austria. “So, are you going to be playing Christmas songs on the piano from now on?”
“When it gets a little more holiday-ish.”
Italy waves to the two of them from on top of the mountain. “Hey! Come play with us! Let’s have a snowball fight!” He yells, laughing.
Austria sighs. “I’m cold. I’m going inside.” He says to [Name] and walks away.
“Boring… I’m coming, Italy!” [Name] runs over, almost slipping on the ice. “Woah! Let’s team up and defeat Ms. Hungary!”
Hungary laughs. “Bring it on, peasants!”
“Here, I’ll even give you my gloves so we’re even.” [Name] smiles and hands them over to Hungary.
What a noble mistake.
Hungary ended up totally sweeping the floor with poor little Italy and [Name]. All three of them were panting, Hungary and [Name] holding a competitive stare while having a little break. Until an annoying voice disturbed it…
“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here? A battle? Without the awesome Prussia involved?” Said Prussia hops over the fence.
“Hey! That’s trespassing! You’re not allowed here!” Hungary yells at him, now irked by his sudden presence.
“It’s Christmas, crime is forgivable!” Prussia laughs, walking over. “So what’s going on here? What, is Hungary losing to these two weaklings?”
“No!” Both [Name] and Hungary yelled.
“O’ mighty Prussia, team up with me! I need to take her down!” [Name] drops to their knees, their hands intertwined together.
“He is not joining our snowball fight!” Hungary protests.
“The great Prussia does not team up. But, I suppose I could be allies and help you defeat this little girl!” He smirks, taunting Hungary.
She glares at him. “Italy. Go inside and help Mr. Austria with whatever he’s doing. It’s about to get violent.”
“Eeek!!” Italy gladly runs away inside. Now it was just Prussia vs. Hungary vs. [Name].
Prussia and [Name] mostly focused on taking Hungary down, with throwing just a few snowballs at each other. Hungary wasn’t doing so well now, being teamed up by two competent fighters. While the two of them were focused with another little argument and fighting each other instead, she built a little wall of snow to duck behind to take cover and stock up on snowballs.
“Hey, Hungarys breaking the rules!” Prussia yells, disturbing the fight.
“I don’t think there’s any rules in a snowball fight… But she has an advantage now! You keep firing and I’ll make more snowballs and build a wall for us too! Just watch my back!” [Name] quickly makes a strategy and gets to work.
“Okay, I can do that!” Prussia smirks. “Hungary, you may have an upper hand for now, but don’t think you’re winning yet!”
The fierce battle went on. It was certainly more balanced with Prussia joining in. It was a bit too serious and competitive for a snowball fight, but there was still a lot of laughing and fun, even if Hungary and Prussia didn’t want to admit it.
Everyone was tired, but not ready to give up. Until Austria had to come and ruin the fun. He poked his upper body out of the window he was walking by.
“Fighting at my house is not allowed! How many times do I have to tell you?!”
“What are you gonna do about it, Austria?” Prussia yells back at him.
Austria ignores him. “And Hungary! Look at the yard! I hope you’ll be the one shoveling it all again, [Name], you too!” He glares.
“Y-yes, sir…” [Name] says and scratches the back of their neck.
“I would make Prussia do it as well, but he would only make matters worse. I’ll think of a fitting punishment for you!”
After Prussia is chased off the yard, meaning he just got bored of being chased around, Hungary and [Name] got to work on making the yard neat again.
“At least we didn’t make too much of a mess…” [Name] says, mostly to themselves.
“Yeah. Soon we’ll have to put up Christmas decorations though, so I’m glad we battled now instead of then. I wouldn’t want to try detangling Christmas lights back to how they were…” Hungary responds, Shoveling snow back onto the small mountain.
“Let’s blame Prussia for this.”
Hungary nods in agreement.
After all the yard work was done, Hungary and [Name] finally migrated back inside and got something warm to drink. The two made 4 mugs of hot chocolate and Hungary carried it on a tray. The two walked to the music room, [Name] holding the door open for Hungary.
Austria stopped playing the piano and looked over. Italy, who was sitting next to Austria and listening to him play, looked over as well.
“We made hot chocolate! One for you, and one for you.” Hungary smiles and hands each of them a mug.
“It’s getting dark out, and it started snowing again. The window here is nice and big, so we can watch as the snow falls and chat.” [Name] says.
And so they did. They piled blankets and pillows in front of the window. It was a cozy evening, and overall a good and fun day. December had started with a bang and hopefully it would be smooth sailing for the rest of the month.
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if you're still taking requests - nsfw alphabet with Austria
i couldn’t tell whether i wanted him to be submissive or not.. so i kinda did both. also i wrote this in a he and you sort of way and i dont know if i like it or not..?? feel this stuff isnt that accurate but whatever..
warnings: nsfw obviously, kinks vary alot, nothing too intense unless spanking counts. just say if you want me to add one since i cant really think of anything really in here
Austria NSFW alphabet
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He either goes right to sleep or he might drink some water then take a bath after a bit of time laying with you. It mostly depends on what happend, how long it lasted, and how his day went.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
He likes his hands alot, theyre help him play instruments, plus you seem to like them alot when he uses them on you.
Roderich's an ass guy, maybe thighs. But his favoritee part yours is your lips, they can do all sorts of things and that makes him feel drawn to them often.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Prefers pulling out and cumming on ur tummy, it's easier to clean that way. Also, even if he's not a big fan of cum, the image is really nice when he sees it.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He wants to masturbate to the sight of you touching yourself, but it'll take awhile for him to admit that to you. Oh, and he wants to try out some roleplay but that he'll probably never admit it.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Yeah, only with being submissive though since Hungary used to dominate him a lot. Probably not much experience domming with his partner though, maybe he slept with a couple other people beforehand.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
I don't think he's a fan of really complex positions so he usually goes for cowgirl or missionary, lazy doggy too possibly if hes being penetrated.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Roderichs serious during sex, he'll chuckle at anything silly that might happen for a bit though, then continue on like normal.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He isn't all that hairy to begin with but he shaves once it becomes noticable to him.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He's not too romantic during sex but he does make sure to sneak a few kisses in, he also tries to have a good amount of eye contact with you too.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Not too often, maybe once a week or less if you two have been together alot that week.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Roleplay
Spanking(on you, bare hands or with a riding crop. both work.)
Pegging (him)
Wax play (both)
Lingerie (both)
Food play (both)
Bondage (you, he would try it maybe once or twice.. ten times so far)
Edging (you)
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
In bed, just more convenient for him and also more comfortable. Maybe in the tub, but you'll have to be in charge.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
I feel that he has sensitive thighs that like getting rubbed, so keep a look out for that. Likes hair pulling as long as it isn't too rough on him, gentle tugs make him excited. Sitting on his lap would end with interesting results too.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything gross, I think he really really hates spitting and stuff like that. He can't hande it.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
I would say he's pretty friendly with oral, isn't it's biggest fan but never against it. He's real good at it, and this is a good opportunity for that hair pulling I mentioned earlier also. Not against getting his dick sucked at all.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Can't go all that fast for various reasons, so his speed can go from slow to about average. He likes to take his time though, so slow preferrably.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Not a fan. He has once probably, but it just isn't his thing. He'd rather savour these sorts of activities for as long as possible, like he does with other things he enjoys.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
No risks, but would experiement. He's willing to try things you mention most of the time, and things he might be interested in. Risking getting caught isn't something he'd do, actually, it'd probably haunt him if he did. Just a bit.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He can up to 5. He'd do it for even more if he didn't get absolutely exhausted. Rounds last for awhile too. As mentioned, he likes to take his time with these sorts of things. Results can vary depending on if he's dom or sub, or on how he's feeling that day. Usually tries to get more than one in.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Hmm.. Excluding that riding crop from earlier, not too many. And there's also the bondage too, if that counts. Once bought you a vibrator so he could watch as you use it.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Oh, definitely. Just enough to make you want more. He finds it really entertaining to see you all riled up.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He ain't quiet. No screaming, just mostly moans and groans. He would also talk quit a bit, not constantly, but he will. Pants everytime he finishes because he's tired.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Horny guy when drunk, like really really horny. This has ended in chaos for him multiple times.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Uncut, average size. No hair, he just doesn't really grow it.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Pretty high, would like to have sex four times or maybe even more a week. Masturbates otherwise, although he really prefers to have sex instead.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
fifteen minutes to two hours. Depends if he took a bath or not, even if he doesn't he still does need time to relax afterwards and catch his breath. Plus he'd talk with you a bit, most likely on whos cleaning this in the morning.
I am weak for Emma, and I would absolutely die if you would write the prompt "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more," with Austria. (◕д◕✿)
Of course you may, Lovely! I'm assuming this came from the Austen-Bronte Prompt list, and I sort of wrote it with that in mind.
Hope you enjoy!
Vienna was beautiful, even when the rain was falling in sheets, lights from shops and cafes playing off the creeping fog, the atmosphere cast in fragmented reds and blues and greys.
You sat above it all, the stilted whites, dingy yellows, and sharp oranges of passing traffic fading into the picture below, nameless drifters passing quietly past your perch like ships in the night.
You were uninterested in the lives playing out beyond your window, your head too clouded by dark thoughts and bitter memories, fragmented distortions which still left a bitter sting.
A familiar argument, incited this time by your pride, triggered by his own. It should been nothing more than a simple miscommunication, an easy resolution, yet-
“Your behavior was entirely unacceptable.”
He made you feel like a child, demeaned, degraded.
“You embarrassed me.”
His words repeated, over and over again, their poison yet to lose its potency.
You supposed, if nothing else, you could find comfort in the knowledge that he waited until you were both in the car to say such things. You weren’t sure how you could have composed yourself had he said any of it in front of his alleged “friends.”
Then again, this was Roderich; he wouldn’t dare be anything but composed while in public.
As if aware of your thoughts, you felt his presence behind you, a chill that had little to do with the thundershower settling more deeply beneath your skin.
He was quiet, thankfully, only hovered some distance away. But his presence was still enough, your nerves on edge from his proximity.
“I was thinking about our discussion earlier.”
An ugly sound escaped you, your words coming out just as derisive as the scoff. “’Discussion’?” You turned to him with disbelief. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Dearest-”
“Austria.”
The formality gave him pause, a flicker of something you didn’t care to think about minutely creasing his features, marring that mask he was wearing even now. But it faded away, his next words far softer, a touch defeated, almost a tired exhale. “May I sit?”
You merely gestured to the remaining section of the window seat, though found you couldn’t look away from his profile.
He was watching the street below, expression unreadable. You studied him carefully for a few minutes, before finally turning your own attention back to the world beyond this, to the lives playing out beneath you.
A younger woman, rushing down the street to a waiting car. An older couple sharing an umbrella as they moved from a bookstore to the café right beside it. A teenager and what was likely their younger brother, dancing recklessly on the sidewalk, catching raindrops on their tongues, jumping in the scattered puddles.
There always seemed to be puddles, no matter how many times the city tried to fix this street.
It filled you with peace, the glimpse of Humanity, the steady threads of Life weaving constantly in-and-out, billions of stories sharing so many connections, yet not one of them exactly the same.
So why was it yours that had to be so troublesome?
You glanced at Roderich once more, frowning to yourself. For a while, you had wondered if it was worth it, if you should just move on, yet despite how angry you still were with him-
“I think I’ve forgotten how old I am.” His words surprised you, shaking you from your reverie, especially as his eyes hadn’t left the city below, a strained, bittersweet smile haunting him. “I’ve raised Empires and seen them fall; I’ve-”
He trailed off, his eyes narrowing, memories taking him to some distant realm you were almost sure you wouldn’t want to see. “I am so very old, Engel. And I have sacrificed so much over the years, compromised for too little. And all of it? For duty. For some alleged 'greater good.'”
His eyes flickered to yours, every layer of amethyst shining in the gloom, his glasses likely forgotten in the study again. “What I feel for you is more than I’ve felt for anyone in a long, long time. And I- I can’t let anyone suspect that you make me vulnerable. Darling, I..." He trailed off for a moment, the mask crumbling just a bit more. "I couldn’t bear the thought of sacrificing you, too.”
It was seemingly uncharacteristic of him, this level of earnestness, these moments where he dropped that pretense, the charade, gave you a glimpse of the fragile soul buried beneath the marble facade.
Whatever anger and resentment that had still been lingering dissipated with his words, dismissed as you recognized the apology buried deep within them. Your posture sagged, the burden of carrying so much bitterness finally leaving your shoulders, leaving you hollow.
"I just wish you would be this open with your bosses for once."
He hummed, a strained sound that almost shaped itself into a sardonic snort, his eyes once more flashing out to the rainy streets. "You're dreaming of an impossible world."
Oh, did you know it.
A Nation? Falling for someone so fragile as a human? It was the prelude to a tragedy, cursed from the start. The world was full of the wicked and corrupt, people who would do anything for a shred of influence, for even a drop of power. To have a Nation under one's sway-
It was an argument he repeated time and time again, one so familiar in its refrain that you could likely recite it word-for-word, note-for-note.
You sighed tiredly, a sound that brought his focus back to you, his palm resting on your knee, eyebrows furrowing in concern. "Darling?"
"Times have changed, my love."
His eyes studied yours carefully for a moment, likely seeking answers to a question you knew he would never ask. But clarity was never far behind, not for a mind as sharp as his own, his eyes narrowing slightly in the flickering remnants of his earlier agitation. "Not enough." Before you could reply, his anger was gone again, that secret softness melting all ice from his features. "Not yet."
It hurt more than you could voice, more than you were willing to reveal. There was buried the promise just as old as this disagreement, a vow to someday, one day-
You tried to turn away, but his palm had found your cheek, a gesture that seemed gentle in nature but only served to highlight how much of a hold he held over you; he offered barely a touch, yet you couldn't pull away.
"What is running through that head of yours?" he whispered, a slip you couldn't help suspecting was never meant to be spoken. His fingers were cool against your skin, a passing observation that almost made you smile; the old man never seemed to be warm enough.
But it was a passing thought, forgotten quickly in the moment, your thoughts, your focus, ensnared by a delicate touch and a heavy gaze.
Here, behind closed doors, hidden away from judgement and societal obligation, you could see everything he was, and you were breathless at the sight of it.
Yet, as beautiful as it was, as beautiful as he was, you were starting to wonder if it was truly enough, if you had made the right decision. He may have Eternity, but your life was fleeting; you couldn't spend your years waiting for a moment that may never come.
"When," you finally cracked, the weight of Time and the Unknown fracturing your resolve. You cleared your throat, steeled yourself once more. "When then, Roderich? I can't wait for you forever. I don't have that kind of luxury."
Something sharp sliced across his features, cold and cutting in the passing lightning. You nearly wrote it off as such- a distorted after-illusion of the fulmination, but his words only proved your observations correct. "So leave then."
He was suddenly so cold, so detached; in one fluid movement, he had withdrawn from you, his posture returning to formal rigidity, chin setting into an arrogant angle. He wasn't even looking at you anymore, the bastard, focus centered directly ahead, unwavering.
The embers of your earlier anger sparked menacingly, but you smothered it quickly, sensing the tension beneath the marble exterior, suspicious that there was a deeper reasoning for his behavior.
Heaven help you, he was exhausting sometimes.
You moved forward, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Even if I could, you should know by now that I won't."
The truth of it all was that even when he infuriated you, drove you mad, made you question every life decision which had led you to him, you knew there was no one else who could make you feel this way. There was no one who could so easily match you movement-for-movement, who could harmonize so perfectly with your very soul. He was complementary in every way you hadn't known you needed, and the thought of ever leaving him behind-
He chuckled softly, wrenching you from your musings, his head shaking before he was turning to you with a broken smile. "You really are too stubborn, my dear."
You frowned, unimpressed. "Look who's talking."
He hummed in agreement, his hand settling atop your own where it still rested at his shoulder. "Quite the pair we make."
All was quiet for a time, nothing but the rain’s unending song and the distant din of traffic piercing the silence.
For a moment, you could almost relax into it.
Almost, were it not for that voice still lingering in the back of your mind, still demanding recognition.
“I can’t keep waiting, Rod. I can’t keep pretending there’s nothing between us, not when-”
“I know, my love.” He cut you off with an exhale before turning back to you. “Do you know how difficult it is to pretend you’re nothing more than a passing fancy? To act as if you’re only-” He huffed, a note of that frustration resurfacing with it. “Do you know how badly I want to tell the whole world how I feel about you? How desperately I want to show them just how much I care for you?”
“Sweetheart…”
When he responded with your name, cracked and desperate, you couldn’t help the jolt that startled through your veins, the sensation only strengthened by the intensity of his gaze. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”
His proclamation pierced through any defenses you could have tried to build up, struck true. You were weightless, yet somehow his words had grounded you firmly to the present.
The ghostly remnants of his earlier outburst continued to echo their haunting taunts, their chilled claws clinging still to your conscious.
But there was a gentle yearning in his gaze, a tenderness that tugged at your heartstrings. His eyes searched yours, his hand gently clasping your own, his expression softening minutely, words scarcely a whisper. “Please, dearest; I just need a little more time.”
I thank you for your patience with this one, Anon! I'm actually not a huge fan of Austria, so writing him was more of a challenge than I care to admit. I hope I did him justice though. ^_^;;;
