#cly writes

And you’re absolutely right about him never wanting to hurt his darling - after all, they’re the love of his life! Why would he ever want to make an angel cry? However, he will hurt others who get in the way.

People notice that Russia stops hovering over his “friends” (i.e. Lithuania, Czechia, Latvia), and they take pity on you - Russia’s latest victim. You don’t believe this, because in your eyes, Russia has been nothing but kind to you, and on some degree you felt like you have to take care of him because Russia’s such a poor soul, isolated from the rest of the world, for the world rejects him, and no one deserves to suffer like that. And yet it’s your own kindness that’s your undoing, as Russia only falls even harder every time you show him the tiniest touch of kindness.

Of course, Belarus, too, notices his sudden interest in you, and begins to get suspicious, as she knows that look in his eyes all too well. It’s the same one that she sees every time she looks into the mirror - of longing, of sickly, twisted passion for her beloved. But you? Her darling brother harboring feels for you out of all people?

Belarus seethes with rage, clutching all the hidden blades she has on her body. She is more than ready to slit your throat right then and there. Honestly, Belarus really doesn’t want to waste her time with someone like you, but obstacles were obstacles. Nothing personal.

You begin to notice the strange salty taste in your water. The feeling that you’re being watched at night. Eyes boring holes in your back in the shower. Your clothes going missing, then returned full of scratches, holes and dripping red. This is another downside to having Russia obsessed with you, because you get a 2-in-1 package. Not only you have to deal with one yandere, you get two after you for two very different reasons.

Russia finds out, and does not ignore her like he usually does, no, he yells at Belarus. His voice thunders through the room, and Belarus flinches, but she doesn’t falter. There are tears streaming down her eyes, as she screams at him. Why, why, why, why, why, why, why?

Russia tries his best to control himself, but before he knew it, his sister’s white, porcelain skin has turned into a violent shade of blue. He looks down. His hands were on Belarus’s throat, pinning her against the wall. She claws on his large hands, choking out his name in disbelief.

His heart stops. Russia lets go of his sister, and she crumples down like a rag doll. His mind races a hundred miles, but nothing registers in his mind, not even Belarus’s violent, hacking coughs as she tries to breathe just any bit of air at all in. The entire world seemed spun, and Russia closes the door behind himself - closing off his sister’s cries from the rest of the world.

At times, Russia doesn’t even notice his own behaviour - intimidating others, promising to do… things to them should they interfere with your relationship. You may notice Estonia giving you the cold shoulder after this, along with your close friends, who blabber half-hearted excuses to get away from you.

Hushed voices hang in the air, whispering about how Russia found himself a new toy to chew on and spit out later. Poor thing. They don’t deserve such misery, they don’t deserve to be with such a monster.

There have been several attempts to, ah, warn you of your current predicament. But you’re always left confused of what they were all about, as before the nation could say anything, Russia will always be there. Always. With his usual bright, angelic smile, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and then disappearing along with a nation to have a little talk. The nation never meets your eyes again.

It’s honestly laughable. You reach out to save him from loneliness, and now you were the one facing ostracization. But you don’t know that, do you? All you saw was everyone in your life leaving you - everyone but Russia, who stays and comforts you, just like how you’d come into his life with open arms.

You find yourself staying inside all the time, because what is there outside? Nothing. No one is there anymore. No one but Russia, who comes home every day, always with a welcoming smile for you no matter what he had to endure outside.

He wipes your tears away. It’s just the two of you against the world now. What’s that? A speck of red on his coat? Oh, he was being clumsy and cut himself earlier, there’s no need to worry about that. Just focus on breathing slowly now, you’ll be safe in his arms.

Safe forever.

Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed. Raindrops banged and crashed against the windows, but they were nowhere near as loud as the sound of your heart pounding noisily inside your chest as you tiptoed down the hallway, the gift well-hidden behind your back. Watering them before plucking seemed like a good idea at the time, but now the backside of your shirt was soaking wet.

Your eyes darted around. Just there on Earth was he? The carpet would be drenched if you couldn’t find him soon. Yet you let out a small giggle. The surprised look on his face when you show him would be glorious…

“Доброе утро⁽¹⁾, (Name).”

You shrieked and turned around to see none other than the light-haired man smiling at you sweetly. “Ivan! Good morning to you, too! The, um, weather today’s very… nice… isn’t it?” Forced laughter left your throat.

Russia giggled. “You do know that there is storm outside, да⁽²⁾?”

“I- yes, I do, I- well…” Cat’s out of the bag. No point in trying to hide it anymore. You showed him the flowers, fresh and teeming with life. The vibrant yellow did not fit the solemn atmosphere, where Victorian-esque walls loomed, suffocating you with the dark of the storm.

Russia’s smile faded. You could see the gears in his head turn as his eyes grew bigger and bigger. “Sunflowers,” he said. “My favourite.”

The bouquet shook in your hands. Your eyes trained on the ground. “I grew some for you,” you admitted. “Of course, that may be the reason why they look kind of sad compared to the ones at the flower shops- Actually, thinking back about it, I should’ve bought the sunflowers instead of growing them myself because while doing it yourself makes the gift feel more special, the recipient doesn’t always necessarily want your lousy handmade gift, so- Mmph!”

Russia practically lunged forward to swipe you into a hug. He didn’t seem to mind the flowers getting crushed. “It is the thought that counts, (Name). Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I…” Warmth flooded your cheeks, and you buried your face into his touch. “Yeah. Thanks, Rus.”

Water from the flowers soaked into the fronts of your shirts, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered was you being in Russia’s gentle arms. So warm and kind. If only you could stay this way forever…

“(Name)!”

Latvia’s voice echoed through the halls. You looked over to see the small man in the doorway, nearly stumbling over because of the enormous stack of papers in his hands.

“Could you come here for a moment? I need you to fill out these docume-” His eyes widened at the sight of your current situation. “Oh! Good morning, Mr. Russia, I see you’re kind of busy hugging (Name)- Wait, no, nevermind, I’ll leave you two alone!” He scrambled out of sight, papers flying everywhere in the halls.

You tried to move, but Russia’s grip on you suddenly tightened. “Russia…?” Your voice faltered. “The flowers are going to get crushed…”

“Stay with me,” he mumbled.

“But-”

“Please.”

“I’ll give you double the hugs when I finish,” you insisted.

His lips trembled on your neck. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

His embrace only got tighter, like a cage closing on around you, yet you still managed to wiggle out, even just by a bit. “Dip them in water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him a small kiss on the cheek and ran after Latvia.

Russia stood with only your sunflowers to keep him company as he watched your form grow smaller and smaller until you were finally gone. He looked at the gift. Some were crushed beyond recognition, but others were completely fine. These flowers carried the color of joy, the color of warmth, the color of sunshine. The color of your love for him.

He pressed a kiss to the bouquet. Latvia was going to regret this later.

Translations:

⁽¹⁾Доброе утро: Good morning

⁽²⁾да: yes

They have matching mugs. They do not know how it got in, probably gifts from friends, but they are now an important part of the household. Drinks are always divided in the mugs, and America refuses to get his coffee from anything other than his mug.

As mentioned earlier, France is not an early riser. He likes to take his time in the morning to ensure the day is relaxing and enjoyable, from the start to finish. This pisses England off because it’s nine in the morning, why the hell is he still in the bathroom!? The food’s getting cold!

The Frenchman’s bedroom is very aesthetic, right down to the curtains and cupboards, incorporating warm and light shades of gold, cream and brown.

Ornate mirrors, gold patterning, velvet and silken sheets - seriously, the guy even has a chandelier in his bedroom. He’s just that extra.

It would probably smell like the various perfumes he keeps in there and his own natural scent.

America’s room has a bookshelf filled to the brim with comic books, particularly the superhero genre. He’s very proud of the fact that he’s got so many original editions of comics.

However, France does not dare to look at America’s room as it is also filled with so much technology, from computers to monitors to tablets and mouse and speakers and good god, what is that mass amount of black worms tangled up together?!

America does not how to do cable management.

England’s bedroom is very neat, tidy and minimalistic. There aren’t many decors, documents are stacked neatly on one side of the desk, and his smart devices which are equally well-kept - macbook polished and charger tied in a neat circle. he also has a collection of books he’s kept throughout the centuries.

He prefers to only use them when necessary (even with his smartphone), opting to spend his time doing something else like reading or playing with his magical friends (or reading to them, it’s a good idea).

It saddens England to know that America’s in the room next door while he reads stories to his magical friends, as England usually read him bedtime stories every night before their separation.

Speaking of which, you can find the fairytale creatures all over the house, whether it be lounging on the couch or in the bathroom s̶t̶e̶a̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ applying France’s beauty products.

Sometimes, America has nightmares. They can range from reliving his trauma to nonsensical ones (his hamburger turning against him and chasing him). He wakes up in cold sweat and immediately thinks of coming over to one of his lovers’ rooms for the night, but swallows the urge to because of his insecurities - even if the relationship has been on for a while now, he doesn’t want to be seen as vulnerable.

Whenever they go out, France would stop the other two at the door and turn them back because good lord what are those outfits!? Not to worry though, he’s got them covered in the fashion department, and if they still don’t have suitable clothes they can always borrow from his wardrobe! Be quiet England, they’ll be fashionable late to the appointment, literally.

America’s health also gets better through a series of adjustments, discourse and explosive arguments (mainly the latter two) about the sheer amount of crap that’s in the hamburgers and milkshakes that he inhales daily. Even England is horrified.