Katyusha (Soviet!Russia x Sniper!Reader): Morals

Konichiwa!  Long time no see! (haha!)  Okay, this is the second chapter to "Katyusha" I promised.  I have a third chapter written as well and I'm working on the fourth.  I'm not super happy with it, but I'm having a hard time writing Russia's character because seriously he's just too complex!  Anyway, I'll stop complaining now and post it.  Catch you reader-sans later~!


- Turtle-chan


Morning comes too soon and you hastily pack your things.  It's still fairly dark out, but you know you have to move if you want to make it to the battle on time.  What use is a soldier that doesn't fight?
        The camp disappears within an hour and the company is off once more, marching in perfect formation.  This time, you stand between Yekaterina and Natalia since you have, more or less, hit it off with them.  Natalia doesn't know about your encounter with her brother yet and you plan to keep it that way.  Your mind has been spinning with thoughts and questions about the mysterious man.  Why is he a commanding officer at such a young age?  Why does he hate Nazis so much as to wish to kill all of the Germans?  Why does he hate women soldiers?  What is he really like?  Is he cold and cruel or is he kind and gentle?  Somewhere in between maybe?  You don't know why, but you want to get to know him better.  You're drawn to him, for lack of a better way to put it.  He enthralls you.
        "I am sorry about leaving you so suddenly yesterday, (y/n)," Yekaterina says to you a little sheepishly.
        "Oh, it's fine.  I understand that you have to do what must be done," you respond, hoping that Natalia doesn't listen in or that Yekaterina doesn't mention names.
        "Yes, I hope that one day I will be able to talk to my little brother again like when we were children...," she says wistfully.  "Did he speak to you?  What do you think of him?"
        You risk a nervous glance over at Natalia who is squinting her deep blue eyes toward the front of  the company, trying to catch a glimpse of Colonel Braginsky.  "We spoke briefly," you respond, treading lightly.  "He seems to be an interesting man.  I look forward to fighting alongside him."
        "He was always such a sweet boy," Yekaterina smiles.  "But he seems to have become very serious.  I worry for him because he never smiles.  He has a lovely smile, you know?"
        "Oh, I'm sure he's alright.  You have to be tough to become a colonel at such a young age.  He probably feels like he has to prove himself to the older men," you assure her while also probing for information.
        "Yes, I am so proud of him!  But I fear for him as well.  It is so dangerous to fight this war!" she exclaims, tears welling up in her big blue eyes.  "And he is not fighting at the back like we are.  He has to be right in the middle of it all!  Oh, I am happy to be in this company but I do not wish to see my little brother killed!"
        "Oh, don't cry," you tell Yekaterina gently.  "I'm sure he will be alright.  He's made it this far, hasn't he?  And he's a big, strong man now.  I'm sure he can take care of himself.  Besides, you can protect him from afar.  We are snipers, after all."
        Yekaterina looks over at you with teary eyes and smiles.  "You're right!  Thank you, (y/n)!  I feel much better now," she tells you.
        You smile back at her, but your smile falls when a large, dark shadow falls across your path.  You look up to see Colonel Braginsky himself standing in front of you, his arms crossed and a look of utmost displeasure on his face.  You shiver a little in fear.
        "If you have time for idle chatter then obviously you are not working hard enough," he says in a voice as cold as the Siberian winter.
        Immediately Natalia perks up.  "Big brother!" she exclaims, running over to him with her arms outstretched, a look of pure joy on her face.
        Without looking at her, Colonel Braginsky slaps her away, knocking her on her back in the dirt.  You're indignant.  "This is why women should not be in the military.  So easily distracted.  It disgusts me," he says, looking you in the eyes.
        "Sir, I will not stand by and watch a man strike a woman," you growl, looking over to see Natalia sitting up and rubbing her cheek where Colonel Braginsky hit her.  There is a large, red handprint there now, each finger perfectly outlined.  You're trembling with rage.
        "You would do well to remember your position, Private (y/l/n)," he tells you menacingly, leaning in toward you.
        "My rank has nothing to do with this.  I will not allow harm to befall any of these women simply because of a prejudice.  They have done nothing wrong.  If you wish to punish someone, then punish me, but leave the rest out of it," you declare, meeting his cool violet eyes with a hot glare.
        "(y/n)...," Yekaterina murmurs, giving you a sad look before turning her head away to hide her tears as Colonel Braginsky's eyes come to rest on her.  The other soldiers are looking on similarly and the company has come to a complete halt to watch this faceoff between the colonel and a measly private--a female at that!
        "You have gall, daring to contradict me, Private," Colonel Braginsky says, turning away from you with his hands behind his back.  You're tense, watching his every move.  You know something is about to happen and you want to be ready.  "It seems you have a stubborn streak."
        "No, sir, just morals," you reply, knowing you're digging your own grave but unable to keep your mouth shut.
        "'Morals...,'" he repeats, stopping his pacing.  "I don't seem to recall anyone ever saying that war is a place for morals."  He looks at you over his shoulder with an ironic smile.  "Do you?"
        You gulp.  His smile is more terrifying than his usual blank expression.  "No, sir, but I will not allow myself to be broken by this war.  I have seen too many good men come out of war as a different person, so I must hold on to my values.  One of those is that men should never harm a woman," you respond, holding your head high in defiance and pride.
        "I see," Colonel Braginsky says, slowly turning to face you once again.  "You contradict yourself, Private (y/l/n).  You said before that you are happy women are now allowed to fight, for the equality, but what you speak of now is inequality.  So, which is it?"  Before you get a chance to answer, his gloved right hand shoots out and grips your chin, squeezing it hard as he forces you to look up into his blazing violet eyes.
        "This and that are completely different matters," you spit out.  Your jaw hurts and it feels like he's going to break something.  You know that you'll have a nasty bruise later.
        "Oh, are they?" he asks in mock surprise before chuckling to himself and bending down until his face is only inches from yours.  "You're a part of the army now, Private.  Do you know what that means?"
        You refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer, so you just continue to glare up at him.  There's a sadistic gleam in his eyes and you can tell you've managed to hit a nerve somewhere along the way.
        "You are nothing.  Simply a tool in this war, like that rifle on your back.  Disposable and easily replaced.  If you continue to prove to me that you're a defective tool, then I'll just have to get rid of you," he growls, a smirk playing at his lips.  His grip on your chin tightens to an almost unbearable vice before he slowly lets go.  "Now, since you so kindly offered yourself up to take the punishment for everyone, we will give it to you and then move on."
        You stand in front of him, your body stiff and your eyes facing forward, preparing yourself for the worst.  What he had in mind was much different and much more painful than anything you had imagined, however.
        "Women," Colonel Braginsky barks, startling everyone to attention.  "Line up.  You will be giving your comrade the punishment she so desires."  The women all glance at each other with wide eyes but do as he says, knowing full well that it could be them next.  "Remove your rifles!"  A low murmur goes through the company.  "I want each and every one of you to strike her with the butt of your gun.  She says she will not tolerate men striking women, so let women strike her instead.  If you are gentle it only means that you will have to hit her again an again until I am satisfied.  Now, go!  We have wasted enough time as it is."
        The first woman gives you a hesitant, pitying look.  "Do it.  I can take it," you assure her, bracing yourself.  She still appears to be uncertain, but she hits you anyway, slamming the hard wooden butt of the rifle into your cheek.  It hurts, but you know it could be much, much worse, so you roll your head on your neck and beckon the next girl forward.
        Each strike makes you more numb than before.  Your nose is bleeding and you have scrapes across your face that are steadily oozing blood.  When it's Yekaterina's turn to go, she shakes her head.  "No, I can't," she says.
        "You have to," you tell her.
        "I won't!" she exclaims, her eyes teary, pain written across her face.
        "Hit me!" you shout.  She shakes her head again stubbornly.  "Hit me, damn it!  I'm doing this for you!  Do you really think one more will do anything?"
        She takes a shaky breath in and looks back up at you with determination.  Slowly, she approaches you, rears back, and throttles you.  The impact knocks your head back a little, but you're satisfied.  It's better that you take it than the rest of them.
        After the last woman has her turn, they return to formation.  You turn to face Colonel Braginsky once more, attempting to seem calm and relaxed but knowing it's not as effective when your face is a bloody mess.  "So?  Is that all?" you ask him.
        "Have you learned your lesson?" Colonel Braginsky responds.
        "Which one?  That rifle butts make for good bludgeoning weapons or that you're an immature tyrant?" you shoot back.  You instantly regret the words, but you're feeling like nothing could make things any worse at this point.
        Without warning, Colonel Braginsky rears back and swings his massive fist into your stomach.  You're on the ground, looking up at the grey sky for a moment before you push yourself into a sitting position.  "Next time you dare talk back to me I will not be so gentle," he says coolly, walking off.  "Well?  What are you all standing around for?  War will not wait for us!"
        You glare at the colonel's retreating back, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva into the dust.  "Bastard," you mutter under your breath.
        "(y/n)!  Are you alright?" Yekaterina exclaims, crouching next to you.
        "I'm fine," you tell her, trying to smile.
        "I-I'm so sorry," she tells you with a shaky voice as she pulls you to your feet.  "Does it hurt?"
        "Nah, didn't even tickle," you tell her, putting on the bravado for the others.  "It takes a lot more than that to break me."
        She doesn't look like she believes you, but she doesn't press the matter.  "Vanya never used to be like that before.  I never thought he had become so cruel...," she murmurs, a look of concern etched onto her face.
        "War changes people," you say quietly, trying to block the memories attempting to flood back into your brain.
        You feel a tap on your shoulder and you turn to see Natalia, still with the pink outline of a hand on her cheek, looking at you intently.  "Th-thanks," she mumbles with embarrassment.
        "It was my pleasure," you respond with a smile.  She's awfully cute when she's being shy.
        "Don't let it go to your head, though!  I still won't allow you to get near my Vanya!" she declares, crossing her arms petulantly.
        "Don't worry.  I wouldn't want to after this," you tell her.  It's not entirely true, though.  Despite it all, you feel like getting pummeled was worth it because you have more insight as to the different aspects of Colonel Braginsky's personality now.  He's merciless and cruel, but you thought you saw the faintest glimmers of humanity in his eyes when he was gripping your chin.  He could have easily just struck you down and been done with it, but he held out.  He threatened and waited until you gave him no choice but to harm you.  You think that somewhere, deep, deep down, he has a heart and a soft one at that.  You want to find that side of him, to see what he's really like.  "Now, let's get to marching.  I, for one, would like to get some sleep tonight!"

Zuviel Liebe (Germany x Reader): Frankfurter Buchmesse

Konichiwa!  It's been a while!  Sorry, I've been busy lately and I've kind of neglected my longer stories in favor of oneshots...  But I have a new chapter of "Zuviel Liebe" for you!  I'm also going to post a chapter of "Katyusha" because I'm still behind on that...  Anyway, here it is.  This chapter was requested by a girl on Quotev, Madison Stanton and my inspiration was from this video (youtube.com/watch?v=C1a9l6GsAbI ).  By the way, the cosplayer at 0:57 in the video is Xerxes Break from Pandora Hearts and I literally squealed when I saw it.  Okay, I'm just going to hush up now.  Catch you guys later~!  Like, in a few minutes... XD


- Turtle-chan


   Well, today’s the day.  You and the boys are all ready to go for the Frankfurt Book Fair and even just standing outside the building it’s being held in is intimidating.  There are so many people here that it’s hard not to be a little freaked out.
        “Vell, shall vee go insite?” Germany asks you as Italy shivers beside him pitifully.  It is a little chilly, but that’s expected from a German October.  It’s also cloudy and a little windy, which doesn’t help matters.
        “Yeah, let’s go,” you respond excitedly, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet.  This is just too cool!
        Inside the building is jam-packed with people, but it’s absolutely amazing anyway.  There is a section for each country and in each section are artistic book displays.  There are also ample spaces set aside specifically for reading.  It’s every bookworm’s dream!  You’re immediately overwhelmed by it all, but in the best kind of way.  You notice that Japan has his camera with him and is snapping the occasional picture.  Italy keeps getting distracted by pretty girls and Germany has to pull him away.  You giggle and walk closer to Germany, slipping your hand into his.  He blushes a little, but intertwines his fingers with yours and rubs his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.
        “Ve~!  Look, (y/n)!  Italia~!  It’s my country’s section!  Let’s go check it out!” Italy exclaims, dragging you over to the area in question.
        He excitedly runs around alternately glancing at books and flirting with the girl working there.  You flip through some of the books, but you don’t speak Italian, so you aren’t really sure what’s going on.  Somehow, it feels comforting to be out with the guys like this.  It’s one of those weird times when you feel like the four of you are a real family.
        You feel a little pang in your chest at the thought.  It’s been years since you’ve seen your family.  You wonder how they’re doing, what has changed in your absence.  Do they think you’re dead or is it like you never existed in the first place?  You feel heat pricking behind your eyes and you take a sharp breath in.  This is why you’ve been trying to avoid thinking about them.  You have no idea how to get back home and even if you did, you’re not sure if you could leave Germany behind.  He’s too important to you and you know that loving him like this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.  You’re not going to find someone you can love as deeply as him and you probably won’t find someone who loves you as much as he does.
        “Is somesink zee matter?” Germany murmurs from beside you, startling you out of your thoughts.  He looks down at you with concern.
        Unconsciously, you bring a hand up to wipe at your eyes.  “No, I’m fine,” you tell him with a smile.  “I was just thinking.”
         “Ve~!  I’m bored now!  Let’s go somewhere else!” Italy interrupts, bounding over to where you and Germany are standing.  Germany never does get a chance to respond.
        “Ah.  If you do not mind, I would like to visit my country’s stall,” Japan pipes up.
        You look up at Germany and he nods a little reluctantly.  “Alright.  Zat sounts fine to me,” he says.  “Let us go.”
        The four of you set off back into the crowds, making a circuit around the center.  The closer you get to the Asian countries’ stalls, however, the more you start noticing strange-looking people.  Their hair is often some sort of unnatural color, pink or blue or crimson or green, and they’re wearing completely impractical clothing with tons of makeup.  Some of them look familiar to you but you don’t pay much mind to it.  Italy could easily get lost here and he keeps wandering off, so your attention is mostly on him.  Then, Japan’s stall is in sight and it finally hits you why the strange-looking people seemed familiar.  Good Lord.  The cosplayers.
        Almost every single person is in costume, ranging from the well-done to the embarrassingly inappropriate.  There are many girls wearing cat ears and you see several cosplays you recognize.  It makes you very, very happy, somehow.  You turn to Japan and see that he, too, seems excited and he keeps fingering his camera.  Italy doesn’t seem to notice, but Germany looks horrified.
        “Vhat…  Vhat is zis?” he asks, staring out at the sea of anime characters with wide blue eyes.
        “This is beautiful,” you respond, grinning from ear to ear.  Germany looks down at you with confusion, but Japan has already distracted you again.
        “Look, (y/n)-san.  There is a section of new manga.  Shall we look?” he says to you, pointing over at the area in question.  You see shelves upon shelves of manga and you can almost feel your eyes sparkling.  “Let’s go!” you squeal, scurrying over with him.
        You’ve never seen so many volumes of manga in one place before.  It’s just so beautiful.  There are some you recognize and many that you don’t.  One in particular catches your eye.  You pick up the gleaming white book and gasp, your eyes running over the red lettering of the title and the familiar faces on the cover.  It’s the latest volume of Hetalia.  Why is it here?  You have no clue.  You would think it would be a little too metaphysical for that, but you’re not going to argue it.  Eagerly you start flipping through it.
        “Ah, those characters look very similar to America-kun and England-san.  How uncanny,” Japan notes, leaning over to look at the comic.
        “Uh, haha!  Yeah, I guess so,” you respond nervously.  Does he not realize that it is them?  “Oh, look!  That guy over there is Xerxes Break!  Will you come with me to ask for a picture with him?”
        “Hai,” Japan nods, following you as you fight your way through the crowd to the white-haired person.
        “Excuse me,” you say, tapping him on the shoulder.  He turns around to face you, his single red eye wide.  “Would you mind if we take a picture with you?  Break is a really awesome character!”
        “Ehh?  Of course, of cooouuurse~!” the cosplayer responds in a spot-on impression of the character.  He even has the costume down to the little blue Emily doll on his shoulder and a tin of hard candy.  You stand next to him and pose with a broad grin on your face while Japan takes the picture.
        “Thank you so much!” you tell him as you walk back off with Japan.  He flaps his long sleeves at you in farewell and you turn back to finding Germany and Italy.
        It’s not hard even with all the people, though, because Germany’s so tall.  You find him restraining Italy by holding onto his jacket collar.
        “Ve~!  You caught me, Germany!” Italy says happily as he dangles a few inches off the ground.
        “I tolt you not to kall me zat here, Feliciano,” Germany tells him.  Oh yeah.  You had forgotten Germany decided that all of the countries should use their human names while out in public so as to avoid causing panic.
        “Ludwig,” you call out, making sure to pronounce the name correctly.  “Feliciano.  We’re back.”
        Both boys look up and Germany nods to you, setting Italy back on his feet.  “Ah.  (y/n).  Kiku.  Did you two enjoy yourselves?” he asks.
        “Mmhm!  It was great!” you reply, smiling up at him.  “I even got to take a picture with one of my favorite manga characters!”
        “Zat is goot.  I sink…,” Germany says a little uncertainly.  “Shall we-?”  He’s cut off by a horrifying, unforgettable sound that strikes fear into your very core.  The shriek of a fangirl.
        “DOIIIIIITTTTTSSSSUUUUUUUUUUUU!” you hear as a blurry figure dashes forward and jumps on Germany, attacking him with a hug.  The impact rocks him backward a step and he freezes, eyes wide and confused.  Italy and Japan both look terrified.
        Once there’s a little less confusion, you see that the attacker is a girl in Italy cosplay.  She keeps rubbing her head against Germany and saying, “Ve~!  Ve~!  Doitsu~!”
        “Italia!” you hear a voice call out harshly from behind you.  You turn to see a group of Hetalia cosplayers, their Germany glaring at the Italy girl.  “Get down from zere zis instant!”
        “Ehhh?  But he’s-a so soft and-a warm,” the girl responds, pouting.  Germany looks like he’s going to kill someone or die of embarrassment, one.
        “Ah, sorry, Itaria-kun, but you cannot cring to Germany-san rike that,” their Japan murmurs.  You notice all the cosplayers are female and you try to suppress a laugh at their impressions.  “Japan’s” accent is just too hilarious.
        Meanwhile, the real countries just look on with varying degrees of confusion.  “Hey, she looks like me!” Italy exclaims, looking at the girl who is still glomping Germany.
        “Aiyah!  White people, sheesh!” the girl cosplaying China exclaims, throwing up her hands in frustration.
        Now, you’ve realized that the guys are getting too freaked out so it’s time for you to step in.  You consider playing it off like the four of you are a cosplay group as well, but you don’t trust the guys to play along with that, so you go for the direct attack.  “Um, hey, you guys look really awesome and all, but we’re not cosplayers,” you tell the group of enthusiastic fangirls before turning to the one who has still yet to let go of Germany.  “Also, Ludwig is really shy and I think you’re embarrassing him.”
        “Wait, you’re not cosplaying?” one of the girls—the one dressed as Japan—asks incredulously, slipping back into what you assume is her normal voice.
        “Nope.  I guess these guys do look a little bit like the Hetalia guys, though, don’t they?” you laugh, glancing over at the still confused Germany who has finally, finally been released.
        “A little?  No, they’re spitting images of what the Axis would look like in real life!” the Germany cosplayer exclaims, her eyes wide.
        You notice the three boys exchanging glances, but you try to ignore it and keep the girls’ attention on you.  “Haha!  Sorry for the misunderstanding,” you tell them cheerfully.
        “N-no, it’s fine,” the girl dressed as Canada pipes up.  You’re a little startled because you didn’t notice her before.  She was just so quiet.  “Could we maybe take a picture with you guys, though?”
        “Sure,” you smile, gathering the boys together while one of the cosplayers asks a person nearby to take a picture of everyone on her phone.  You all pose in a group, with the Italy, Germany, and Japan cosplayers standing with the nations themselves.  After it’s done, you all exchange your goodbyes and they leave.
        “Vhat vas zat?” Germany asks, rubbing his temples in frustration.
        “Ummm…  I’ll explain it some other time,” you say vaguely.  “Is there anywhere else you guys want to stop?”
        “Ve~!  I think it should be your turn to pick, (y/n)!” Italy declares.
        “Ja, you shoult pik.  You are zee reason vee are here anyvay,” Germany adds in.
        “Okay, well could we go find a country that speaks English?  So, pretty much the U.S., U.K., or Canada?” you answer half-jokingly.  You would like to actually read something.
        The boys all consent and you make your way over.  There are some interesting stories that you flip through for a while as Italy naps on a pile of cushions and Japan reads the manga he picked up in the Japanese stall.  Germany wanders about skimming over a few books here and there and it’s overall a much more peaceful experience than you expected.  When you’ve finished, you all decide to head over to Germany’s stall before leaving, even though Germany didn’t ask to go there.  You watch as he walks around picking up books and reading through them carefully, occasionally smiling, occasionally shaking his head in disapproval and putting the book down.  It makes you happy to see that everyone really has been able to enjoy themselves.  Italy is sleeping with his head in your lap and Japan is off to the side, still reading manga.  Once again you’re struck by how much like a family the Axis has become for you.  It makes you feel warm inside and you smile to yourself as you absentmindedly stroke Italy’s hair.
        “Vell, it looks like eferyone is reaty to leafe now,” Germany murmurs, crouching down next to you.
        You giggle.  “Yeah, I think so,” you respond.  “It’s getting late anyway.”
        He nods and picks Italy up, slinging him over his shoulder like a big child before standing and offering you his free hand.  You take it and allow him to help you to your feet.  Japan notices the three of you and puts his manga away, getting up and coming over to you.
Without a word, the three of you walk outside and over to Germany’s car.  Germany carefully puts the still sleeping Italy in and buckles him up before sitting down in the driver’s seat and cranking the engine.  During the car ride, you watch as the sun starts to set.
                                                                                                             ~~~
        After a quick dinner, everyone begins getting ready for bed.  You and Germany are sitting in his office, he going over some last minute paperwork and you watching him.  With the last bit done, he takes off his glasses and stretches his arms with a sigh.  You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him.  “Thanks for today, Germany,” you murmur.
        He kisses the top of your head.  “It vas nosink.  I am glat zat you enjoyet yourself,” he responds.
        You giggle.  “Yeah, it was nice being able to go out with all of you.  It reminded me of being with my family.”
        Germany pulls you onto his lap and wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest.  “You miss zem, do not you?” he asks.
        “A little bit,” you respond.  “But you guys are like family now, too, so it’s alright.”
        He’s quiet for a few moments.  “If you neet to go bak or if you vant to, zen you kan.  I do not vant you to go, but I do vant you to be happy,” he finally murmurs into your hair.  “I know zat it is not zee same vis just us.”
        You pull away and look up at Germany, studying his face.  He looks a little sad, but resolved.  He’s too good to me…  “Germany,” you say quietly, placing the palms of your hands on his cheeks.  “Who said anything about leaving?  Sure, I miss my old world, but this is my home now.  I’m not going anywhere.”  You look deeply into his clear blue eyes, hoping you can somehow convey the depth of your emotion to him.
        “(y/n)…,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes.  You smile and touch your nose to his.
        Glancing at you for a moment, he pulls away a little and tilts his head, catching your chin with his thumb and forefinger.  You smile again and lean in to meet him in the middle.  His kiss is soft and slow.   He releases your chin and moves his hand to rest on the small of your back, gently applying pressure to pull you closer, to which you oblige.  After a while, you pull back for air, but he quickly pulls you back in, a little more passionately this time.  You feel him run his tongue against your bottom lip and, blushing, you open your mouth for him.  His tongue enters your mouth, gently brushing against your own before caressing every other surface within.  You moan softly into the kiss and bring your hands up to run through his hair.  You revel in his closeness, in the reassuring feeling of his hands on your waist, the tenderness of his lips against yours.  You love the way he tastes, something words alone can’t describe.  You love how you feel like you’re drowning in his scent, in him.
        You finally pull away to catch your breath, both of you panting and both of you blushing.  “Ich liebe dich so, so sehr, (y/n),” Germany tells you softly, pressing one more kiss to your lips.  The sensual purr of his accent makes you shiver.
        “I love you too, Germany,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and cuddling into his chest again.
        You sit in silence once more, just enjoying time spent together, as Germany holds you.  You feel drowsy and you know you’ll probably fall asleep soon, but you don’t mind.  You feel comforted knowing that Germany will take care of you and, even if they’re not blood relatives, the Axis is still family, no matter what.  Just before you fall asleep, a thought flashes through your mind.  He really is too good to me…

Zuviel Liebe (Germany x Reader): Hobbies

Konichiwa~!  I have another update and not much to say once again!  College orientation is Friday... O.O  I got a call from my orientation leader yesterday, actually, and it turns out I got stuck with a guy DX  I have a hard time talking to people because I worry so much about etiquette anyway, but there's even more etiquette to observe when talking to a guy because I don't want anyone to think I'm flirting!  *sigh* It's kind of stressful...  But oh well.  At least I wrote another (short) chapter!  Someone on Quotev suggested the chapter this is leading up to, so hopefully it'll turn out okay...  Enjoy and I'll catch you reader-sans later!


- Turtle-chan

                Standing outside in the warm afternoon sunshine, you line up your sights on the target, taking a relaxing breath in.  You solidify your aim, release the breath, and pull the trigger, producing a satisfying bang from the pistol in your hand.  You look down the range as you click the safety back on and set the handgun down.  You make your way down the range to check your target, which you now realize is a life-sized printout of America.  You feel a little weird about using people you know as targets, but you shrug it off as a good way to relieve stress.

                You see that America’s paper body is peppered with bullet holes in the chest and facial areas and you smile with satisfaction.  Your aim has improved lately.  Something about the feel of the cool metal of a gun in your hand and the spicy smell of gunpowder in the air has become comforting and empowering to you.

                You look up at the sky and notice how low the sun is hanging.  It will be getting dark soon, so you decide to start making your way inside to get cleaned up before dinner.  You go back and pick up the gun, tucking it into the waistband of your pants, as you begin the trek back to the house.  The weather has been really nice lately, not too hot and not too cold, but you know that soon winter will set in and it will be cold for months.  You’re determined to enjoy the last traces of summer for as long as you can.

The house seems just a little too quiet to you as you come inside from your practice on the range.  Usually you at least can hear Italy talking or playing or making more white flags, but there’s no noise at all.  You wash your hands in the kitchen sink before going upstairs quietly and cautiously.  You peek into Italy’s bedroom, thinking he might be asleep, but he’s not there.  You look out the window into the garden and see that it is empty as well.  How strange…  Perplexed, you go back down the stairs and begin making your way to Germany’s office.  As you approach, you hear muffled voices from inside, so you stop in the hall and wait, listening.

                “…floating orange and bloated like a rotted pumpkin in the starless night sky.  The phantom stood waiting as a low guttural moaning started up from within the sorry excuse for a forest.  Slowly, steadily, figures began to stagger from the relative shelter of the trees.  They came in the shapes of men, women, and even children, but there was something that was not quite right about them—not quite human.  Their posture drooped; they took slow, stiff steps, and made sounds more animal than human, contrary to their appearance.  One drew close to the shadow, close enough for it to see the creature’s cadaverous countenance,” you hear Japan saying in a chilling voice, and you feel your blood run cold.

                You throw the door open and look around the room with wide eyes, finally coming to a focus on Germany, Italy, and Japan crowded around Germany’s desk and reading out of a rather familiar notebook.  “Where did you find that?” you demand.

                “Ve~!  It was sitting on your bed when I came to find you this morning,” Italy tells you, grinning as usual.  “It was really scary, so I wanted everyone to read it!  I didn’t know you write stories~!”

                “Did you write this, (y/n)-san?” Japan asks, looking up at you with blank eyes.

                You nod stiffly.  “Yes, I did,” you answer, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.  No one was supposed to find out about that…

                “I found it rather enjoyable.  You included my language and culture into it,” Japan tells you, closing the notebook.

                “Th-thanks,” you mumble, taking the notebook from his hands and clutching it to your chest.  You’re trying to register what’s going on.

                “You do not neet to be embarrasset,” Germany tells you.  “It vas fery interestink.”

                “You guys weren’t supposed to see it,” you mutter.  You’re not happy that they took your writing notebook.  It’s something special and private and you feel a little violated now that they’ve seen it.  You feel like your writing acts as a window into your mind and heart and the thought that they’ve all had a peek makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you care about them.  There are some things that are better off staying hidden.

                “A-are you angry at us?” Italy asks you, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and his lower lip trembling.

                You look at him and sigh, scratching the back of your neck irritably.  “No, I’m not mad at you, but I’m not happy either,” you answer.  “I didn’t let you guys know about my writing for a reason.  It’s not meant to be read.”

                “Why would you write a story that isn’t supposed to be read?  That seems silly,” Italy tells you, just like a child.

                “It’s personal, okay?” you tell him, trying to hold back your irritable embarrassment.  You really aren’t mad at them, but you’re mortified and that angers you.

                “O-oh…  Okay…,” he says sadly, hanging his head.

                You look over at him regretfully, and sigh.  “I’m going upstairs for a little while,” you announce before turning on your heel and rushing up the stairs and into your bedroom.

                You flop down onto your bed and squeeze your eyes shut.  You know you probably overreacted.  It’s just a notebook of stories, but it just seems like an invasion of privacy.  It very well could have been a diary that Italy had picked up and read.  Actually, this is almost worse.

                You sit up and rifle through the pages of the notebook listlessly, not reading anything but noticing how many of the pages are filled with your slightly messy handwriting from trying to get it all written down before you lose your inspiration.  You hear a knock at the door and quickly shove the notebook under your mattress as the door opens to reveal Germany standing in the doorway.

                “Hallo,” he says as he peeks in at you, leaning against the wall.

                “Hallo,” you respond evenly.

                “Wie geht es du?” he asks you and he seems a little cautious.

                “I’m fine,” you sigh.  “You going to come in or are you just going to stand in the doorway?”  You give him a small smile to let him know you’re not mad at him.

                He chuckles a little and steps inside.  “Really, zough.  Are you alright?” he asks, coming to sit next to you on the bed.  His blue eyes are so full of genuine concern that you can’t stay angry.

                You let out a breath and lean against Germany’s muscular shoulder.  “Yeah, I’m fine I guess.  I was just kind of angry that you guys had been reading my stories.  It’s kind of like a diary for me, so I don’t necessarily want everyone to know what’s in it,” you respond.

                Germany slips his arm around your waist and pulls you to him.  “Entschuldigung,” he murmurs into your hair as he places a soft kiss on the top of your head.  “Vee vere all just surpriset zat you liket to write stories unt zat zey vere such goot stories zat vee dit not sink about how you voult feel.”

                “It’s okay.  I know I overreacted,” you tell him, snuggling against his chest.  “Is Italy okay?”

                “Ah…  Vell, he vas kryink vhen you left, but I sink he vill be fine,” Germany sighs.

                You wince.  “Sorry about that…,” you respond.  “I’ll have to go apologize to him.”

                “Perhaps,” Germany says.  “Aktually, I hat an idea earlier unt zat is vhy I kame up.”

                “Hm?  What’s your idea?” you ask him, pulling away a little to look up at him.

                “Zere is a sing komink up, zee Frankfurt Book Fair—Frankfurter Buchmesse in my language—unt I sought zat maybe you voult enjoy it?  Zee first few days are only for zee official visitors, but zee last two are open to zee publik,” he tells you.

                “Yeah, that sounds really interesting,” you smile.  You wonder what it will be like.  The Frankfurt Book Fair is supposed to be one of the largest gatherings of writers in the world.

                “Wunderbar!  I vas hopink to be able to show you some of my kountry’s traditions,” he laughs.  “Also, all of zee oser kountries vill be zere, so it vill be a goot opportunity for you to see some of your frients.  I know it has been a vhile.”

                “Yeah, it has,” you concede.  “This sounds like fun.”  You smile up at him because he just looks so excited.  Well, for Germany, that is.

                “I hope so,” he says as he leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips.  “Now, I sink Italy vill mutiny if vee do not kome downschtairs unt eat pasta vis him soon.”

                “Oh, heaven forbid we get in the way of pasta time,” you giggle, allowing Germany to pull you to your feet.  The Frankfurt Book Fair, huh?

Zuviel Liebe (Germany x Reader): Dummkopf

Konichwa!  Turtle-chan here with another update on the Germany x Reader story.  Goodness, but it's started getting rather long, hasn't it!  Twenty chapters!  Huzzah!  Anyhow, here's the chapter.  It was written at one in the morning, so hopefully it makes some kind of sense...  Sorry for being so brief, but I just don't have much to say at the moment!  Enjoy~!


- Turtle-chan

“Uggh,” Germany groans, covering his face with his hand.

                “Here, I brought you some soup,” you tell him as you walk over to stand by his bed, setting everything you’re carrying down on the bedside table.  You look down and watch his flushed face while he grits his teeth through another wave of nausea.  He’s drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.  You gently place the back of your hand against his forehead, feeling just how hot it is.

                “Danke,” he tells you weakly, peeking up at you through his fingers.

                You cluck your tongue, removing your hand and turning over to the collection of medicines you have on the table.  You open the bottle of acetamintophin and tap two of the oblong white pills into your hand while picking up the bottle of water in the other.  “You’re burning up, Liebling.  Here, take this,” you tell him, passing the items over to him.

                He props himself up on one arm and pops the pills into his mouth, washing them down with the water and a grimace.  “Vhat kint of soup is it?” he asks as he slowly forces himself into a sitting position.

                You help him prop himself up with a pillow as you answer, “Kartoffelsuppe.  Your favorite.”

                “You dit not haf to…,” he starts to say with embarrassment, but you cut him off.

                “No, I didn’t have to, but I did anyway.  Do you want to know why that is?” you ask him with a sweet but slightly mischievous smile.

                “Vhy is zat?” he responds with a softening of the eyes.

                “Because I love you, dummkopf,” you respond, planting a kiss on his cheek.  “Now, eat your soup.”

                He chuckles and takes the bowl from you.  “Alright, alright.  Yes, ma’am,” he jokes, saluting you sarcastically.

                “Good.  You’ve finally realized that I’m always right,” you tease, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

                He watches you with sparkling blue eyes, partially from the fever and partially from amusement, as he takes a sip of the warm soup.  “I voult not say zat you are alvays right…,” he responds.

                “Oh, really?” you laugh.  “Well, what about when I taught you how to get Italy to train?  Or when I started making you guys try new foods?  Or when I bandaged you up after that surprise attack?  Or when nothing bad happened at France’s party after I told you everything would be fine?”

                “Vell, I voult not say zat nosing happenet at zat party.  You dit get attaket by Belarus,” he points out, raising an eyebrow.

                “I was fine,” you say, blowing it off.   “Besides, here’s one you can’t argue with: all those times I told you that you need to take care of yourself so you don’t get sick.”

                “Well…,” he responds sheepishly, taking another sip of the soup.

                “Exactly!” you laugh.  “I’m not saying I told you so, but…  Well, I told you so!”

                “Hey, it is partially your fault for leafink me alone for so long,” he teases, but you both flinch at the thought.  Your time hanging in limbo after the kidnapping incident is still a tender subject for the both of you, though you try to hide it through laughter.

                “Oh, I’m sure you were fine.  You guys probably didn’t even realize I was gone,” you chuckle uncomfortably.  You can’t stand thinking back on those dark days.

                “(y/n), I vant you to listen to me,” Germany says seriously, setting the now empty bowl down on the bedside table before taking your hands in his own.  You look up at him.  “I misset you efery sekont of efery day, so do not you efer sink zat you are unimportant to us.  You vere zee only sing I koult sink of all zose months.”

                You feel tears welling up in your eyes as he speaks and you turn your head away with a soft chuckle.  “Dummkopf.  You spent all that time worrying about me when you should have worried about yourself.  You’re such an idiot,” you say, somehow relieved.

                “Vell, zat just means zat I am your itiot,” Germany responds, gently brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.

                You smile over at him.  “Yeah, you’re right, you big, blonde dummy,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck.  He leans his head back against you and your kiss his hair.  You still can’t believe you’re back and you sometimes worry that you’re just dreaming, that you’ll wake up and still be stuck with that awful other version of yourself and no way to escape.  That thought terrifies you every time.

                “Schatz…,” Germany murmurs, covering one of your hands with his.  “Vhat is zee matter?”

                “I’m fine,” you whisper, feeling your body trembling.

                “You know better zan zat, Liebe,” Germany tells you, disentangling you from his neck and pulling you to face him, concern written on his flushed face and in his fever-bright eyes.  “Tell me vhat is zee matter?”

                “You’re not… going anywhere, right?” you blurt out.  “You’re not going to leave me?”

                Germany’s eyes widen in shock.  “Of kourse not!” he exclaims.  “Vhy voult I do zat?”

                You look at the floor in embarrassment, toying with your fingers.  “It’s just that… I guess I’m scared that one day I’ll get up in the morning and find out that everyone’s gone and that I’m all alone…  I’m tired of being alone,” you admit in a tiny voice.

                “Oh, mein Schatz…” Germany murmurs painfully.  He’s both surprised and unsurprised to hear those words pass your lips.  He’s suspected that you’ve been thinking of something like that, worrying about whether you’re actually safe now or if the other one is just tricking you.  He felt the same way the first time it happened to him and it still scares him now if he’s truly honest with himself.  He extends his arms and pulls you against his aching body, holding you close and stroking your hair.  “You are not alone.  You haf Japan unt Italy in zis house unt Austria, Hungary, Liechtenstein, unt your ozer frients zat life nearby.  You are efen frients vis France unt Russia.  Unt of kourse I vill alvays, alvays be here for you if you neet me.”

                You nod against him and bury your face into his chest.  You know this isn’t something you’re going to be able to easily get over, but it comforts you to know that you do have people on your side that want to help you get back on your feet.

                “I kame as soon as I hert zee news!  My baby Bruder is sick?” a loud, obnoxious, and altogether too familiar voice exclaims as the door to Germany’s bedroom flies open.  You immediately jolt away from Germany, feeling your cheeks burn red.

                “Vhat do you sink you are doink, Prussia?” Germany says with aggravation, glaring at the albino who has suddenly destoryed the relative peace of the house.

                “Kesesesese!  Zee awesome me is here to kure your sickness, Vest!” Prussia crows, puffing his chest up.

                “Nein!  You are not vantet here!  All you vill do is be lout unt break sings!” Germany tells him harshly.

                “Was?  I do not belief my awesome ears!  My baby Bruder sinks I am useless!” Prussia exclaims dramatically, a look of mock hurt on his face.  He turns to you.  “You!  (y/n)!  Schwägerin!  Tell Vest zat I kan take kare of him efen better zan zee less awesome you kan!”

                “Sch-Schwägerin?” Germany sputters, his blue eyes seeming to bug out of his skull in shock.

                “It must run in the family,” you laugh to yourself, shaking your head.  They’re both such idiots.  “Come on, Germany.  You need to rest.”

                You go over to the bedside and help Germany lower himself back down.  You pull the blankets up around his large, shivering body and lean in to kiss his cheek once more.  “Thank you,” you whisper in his ear.  “Get some sleep, Liebe.”  You pick up the empty soup bowl and walk toward the door.  “Why don’t you come with me, Prussia.  There isn’t much you can do while Germany’s sleeping, but I bet you can help me make some more soup.”

                Prussia turns to Germany with a smirk.  “Kesesesesese!  You fount yourself a goot one, Vest.  She is almost as awesome as me,” he tells him with a jaunty wink of his red eye.

                Germany looks over at you with soft eyes.  “Ja, you are right,” he murmurs.

                “Go to sleep, dummkopf,” you laugh, shooting him a teasing smile.  “Come on, Prussia.  Let’s leave him alone.”  Prussia follows you out the door, chuckling his crazy laugh all the way.  You can’t help but smile to yourself, though.

                “Ah, hello, (y/n)-san.  Prussia-san.  How is Germany-san?” Japan asks, looking up from his book when the two of you come down the stairs.

                “He’s doing a lot better, but he’s still running a fever,” you answer, dropping the bowl and spoon into the sink.

                “Ah, I see,” Japan nods, turning back to the book.  “Could it be that you are also feverish, (y/n)-san?  Your cheeks appear to be quite flushed.”

                At the mention of it, you feel your entire face blush scarlet and Prussia begins to laugh at you.  “Kesesesese!  Vhat?  Vhy are you so embarrassed, huh, (y/n)?  Your face keeps getting retter unt retter.   Is zere somesink you aren’t tellink us?  You kan tell me anysink, you know.  I vill be your Schwager one day, after all,” he teases you.

                Your face feels unbearably hot now, but he doesn’t stop.  And to make matters worse, Italy walks in.  “Ve~!  What’s the matter, (y/n)?  Your face is so red?  Are you okay?” he exclaims, fussing over you and poking your cheeks.

                “P-please stop,” you whimper to the both of them, covering your face with your hands.  Italy gets flustered by this and starts crying and panicking while Prussia just laughs and launches a new barrage of attacks on you.  In the background, Japan chuckles to himself at your antics.

Katyusha (Soviet!Russia x Sniper!Reader): Katyusha

Konbanwa!  As promised, Turtle-chan is back with a new story.  I've had a horrible case of writer's block come upon me, so I can't think of anything to do as far as updating "Zuviel Leibe" but I started this Soviet Russia story a little while ago.  I will warn you that it's very dark right now and will most likely stay more or less dark throughout because it is set in WWII on the Eastern Front (Nazis versus Soviets) which was where the bloodiest battle in history (Stalingrad) occurred.  If you can't handle violence or bad language, I'd not read this one.  It's more the blood and violence than the language at the moment, but the violence will only get worse as the story progresses.
A few things to tell you before you read.  First of all, I'm not entirely happy with this first chapter, but it's mostly for introductions, so there isn't much I can do about it...  Second, before anyone gets too confused, it's a reader insert fic and the title doesn't refer to Ukraine.  "Katyusha" is a Russian love song that greatly contributed to the Red Army's victories against the Nazis on the Eastern Front during World War II.  It's about a girl on the home front who is thinking about her lover in the army and protecting their love while he protects the country.  This is a link to the song (youtube.com/watch?v=Nsy162Fewf4 ) and I would definitely recommend watching the video that goes with it because it contains what is probably one of the most interesting and daring kiss scenes ever.  The movie the footage comes from, Ivan's Childhood, is also quite good and there is a link to it in the description.  The lyrics to the song, in both Russian and English, are here (marxists.org/history/ussr/sounds/lyrics/katyusha.htm ).  Third of all, "Vanya" and "Katyusha" are diminutives for names, like a nickname.  "Vanya" is the diminutive for "Ivan" and "Katyusha" is the diminutive for Yekaterina, hence your comment to Ukraine.  As for Russia's military rank, I researched it but the badge he wears in the anime doesn't exist.  It looks sort of like a combination of the badges for the Order of the Red Flag and the medal for the Hero of the Soviet Union, but even that's not exact, so I decided that he'd probably be a pretty high-ranking officer since he's a nation.  Also, the Soviet Union was one of very few countries that allowed women to actually work in it's military at the time, though it was very difficult for them to get in.  It is believed that this is due to the Communist mindset of total equality.  The art for the cover and this chapter is "APH: Russia" by EternalSL.  Can I just say how much I love it?  It's so darkly beautiful...
Okay, that should be all for now.  I'll catch you reader-sans later~!


- Turtle-chan

You shiver against the cold wind that is blowing against you and up your skirt.  Despite the thick woolen leggings and your high leather boots, nothing can compare to the Russian winter, even if it's only just beginning.  Even so, you continue to stare straight ahead, keeping your back straight and your head up, awaiting further orders.  The weight of the rifle strapped to your back is beginning to make your shoulder ache.
        All around you are other men, and a few women, in uniform, standing in the middle of the town's square.  You are part of a military regiment that is about to be deployed to the Eastern Front to fight against the Nazis.  A mixture of apprehension and excitement wells up within you at the thought of actually going into combat, being able to protect the Motherland.  All around the regiment are cheering citizens waving their red flags and supporting their country.  You notice out of the corner of your eye that a group of young schoolgirls is watching your group of women soldiers with smiles and amazement.  You feel your chest swell with pride.  Yes, it is a good day to be part of the Red Army.
        The atmosphere seems to shift and you know something is about to happen. A respectful quiet falls over the crowd as a man makes his way to the front of the company.  His uniform is slightly different than everyone else's with a tan jacket and black trim as well as a pink-tinted scarf wrapped around his neck.  His face appears to be hard and expressionless, but you can't help noticing that it looks a little childish in its shape.  That's all you can really pick out about him, though, because you're toward the back of the company.
He comes to a stop at the very front, beside the Lieutenant Colonel, and, despite all the men in front of you, you're able to see him towering over everyone.  You wonder to yourself just how tall this man is.
        "Comrades!  Today you will march off to the edges of Hell to do battle with the Nazis!  You will protect the Motherland and everything she stands for with your very lives!  You will protect your friends and families!  Today, you become heroes!  Do your country proud and go with confidence!  We will put an end to this war!" the Lieutenant Colonel shouts, raising his arms in front of the crowd, bolstering everyone's spirits.
        There are cheers from all around and you smile as you pump your fist into the air along with everyone around you.  You are part of the force for change.  You will help to save your country.  The Lieutenant Colonel begins to bark commands at the company to prepare for the march.  As you begin to move, you hear the schoolgirls singing and you smile, having once sung their song, "Katyusha," to a company of soldiers yourself.
        "Расцветали яблони и груши, Поплыли туманы над рекой.  Выходила на берег Катюша, На высокий берег на крутой," the girls sing, waving at everyone.  You  glance around at the women standing near you and you all nod at each other in silent agreement.
        You open your mouths and begin singing along with the schoolgirls," Выходила, песню заводила Про степного, сизого орла, Про того, которого любила, Про того, чьи письма берегла."
        Some of the men look around to find the singers, smiling when their eyes land on your faces.  Several men join in on the song and before long the entire company is singing, adding depth and beauty to the love song.  "Ой ты, песня, песенка девичья, Ты лети за ясным солнцем вслед.  И бойцу на дальнем пограничье От Катюши передай привет.  Пусть он вспомнит девушку простую, Пусть услышит, как она поет, Пусть он землю бережет родную, А любовь Катюша сбережет."
                                                                                                                ~~~
        After several hours of marching, the company stops to make camp for the night.  As the sun begins to set over the horizon, you take your tent off of your pack and begin staking it to the ground.  All of the women have set up their tents in a group as a matter of safety and practicality.  There are just some things that men can't deal with.
        As you hammer the last stake into the ground, someone taps you on the shoulder and you whirl around, prepared to attack.  A blonde-haired girl stands in front of you, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender and her big blue eyes wide with surprise.  "I-I'm sorry for startling you!" she exclaims breathlessly.
        You let out a sigh and push yourself to your feet.  "I could say the same," you tell her with a grim smile.  "I'm (y/n) (y/l/n).  What can I do for you?"
        "I'm Yekaterina Braginsky," she says with a smile.  "I just wanted to meet everyone since we'll be spending a lot of time together from now on."
        You extend a hand to her with a smile and she shakes it.  "Ah, so you are our "Katyusha" then, eh?" you laugh, giving her a wink.
        She laughs as well, causing her breasts to jiggle and you notice for the first time just how massive they are.  "My little brother used to call me that.  It does seem funny, doesn't it?" she responds, looking a little sad.
        "Oh, you have a little brother?  Do you have any other siblings?" you ask her, already feeling like you could easily befriend the cheerful woman.
        "Oh yes, I have a little brother and a little sister.  Actually, they are both in this company of soldiers, but I am not allowed to see my precious baby brother anymore," she tells you, tearing up.
        "U-um, well, what about your sister?  What is she doing?" you ask her, flustered and unsure of how to comfort her.
        "Natalia is a sniper, just like us.  She is a very good shot, but I think she is much better with knives.  She can throw them almost perfectly!  It is actually a little scary sometimes," Yekaterina tells you.
        "Big brotherrr!  Where are yoooouuuuuu?" you hear a woman call out from somewhere nearby.
        Yekaterina's blue eyes widen and she leans in toward you.  "That is Natalia," she whispers, pointing to a girl with very long blonde hair, slightly darker Yekaterina's platinum blonde, and eyes such a dark blue that they almost look purple.  She wears a white bow in her hair, despite the fact that everyone has hats to keep them warm.  You notice that her breasts are significantly smaller than Yekaterina's to the point of being almost nonexistent by comparison.
        "Sister, have you seen big brother?" she demands of Yekaterina, coming up to the two of you.
        "No, I have not.  You know I am forbidden to see Vanya," Yekaterina responds, dabbing at a few fresh tears.  What an odd family...
        "You, there!" Natalia says, turning on you.  "Have you seen my big brother Vanya?"
        "N-no, I don't think so," you reply, startled by the glare on her pretty face.
        "You had better not be hiding something from me, girl" she tells you threateningly.  "No one can have my big brother but me!"
        You raise your eyebrows and take a step back.  "I don't plan on taking your big brother from you and, to be honest, I wouldn't know who he is even if I saw him."
        "Vanya is the biggest, best man ever," Natalia tells you childishly, crossing her arms.  "He will marry me one day."
        Yekaterina looks flustered and appears to be trying to quiet Natalia.  "I see," you say slowly, knowing now that you must tread carefully around Natalia.  "Could you tell me what he looks like so that I know to tell you if I find him?"
        "Ah, he is perfect.  He is very, very tall, so tall that I cannot reach him even if I stand on the tips of my toes.  And he is very big and strong, like a bear.  He has hair like Yekaterina's and purple eyes like mine and a cute little face.  He's always wearing the scarf Yekaterina made for him when we were little.  It is pink and really, really long," she answers you in detail.  "So!  If you meet a man that looks like that, stay away from him!"
        "Right, I've got it," you tell her, nodding.  You've seen someone that meets some of those descriptors, but you know it can't be him.  If he is Yekaterina's little brother then he is much too young to be so important.
        "Good!  Now I am off to look for Vanya again," Natalia declares, running off into the crowd of soldiers.
        "Would you care to take a walk around camp?" you ask Yekaterina who still looks flustered.
        "That would be nice!" she says, smiling at you and linking her arm in yours.
        The two of you set off at an easy stroll, your feet tired from a day of marching but unable to just sit in one place.  You can smell people cooking on fires set up throughout the camp as you weave your way through the maze of tents.  Aside from the small group of women snipers and the field nurses, there aren't many females in the camp.  You aren't really surprised, but you had hoped there would be more of them.
        "C-Comrade Braginsky!" you hear a male voice call out.  You and Yekaterina both turn toward the sound. Before you is a tall, thin man with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes.  He looks skittish and jumpy.
        "Oh, hello, Toris," she responds with a smile.  "How are you doing?"
        "I-I'm fine...  I guess...," he says, looking at his trembling hands.  "H-have you happened to see Colonel Braginsky around here somewhere?"
        "No, I haven't.  It has been years since I've seen Vanya.  It is good to know that he has grown up so big and strong, though," she tells him.  Something about Yekaterina makes you think of a mother.
        "O-oh...  Okay...  Thank you anyway..." the man says meekly, turning to leave.
        "Wait!  Before you go, I want you to meet my new friend!" Yekaterina calls out.  The man turns around again and looks at you somewhat warily.
        "Toris, this is (y/n) (y/l/n).  (y/n), this is Toris Laurinaitis.  He used to work for my little brother," Yekaterina says.
        "I still do, actually," he tells her before extending a hand to you.  "It's nice to meet you, Comrade (y/l/n)."  His hands are hard and calloused and you can feel him trembling, but you doubt it's from the cold.  The poor man seems terrified.
        "It's nice to meet you, too, Comrade Laurinaitis," you respond with a polite smile.
        "I-If either of you find Colonel Braginsky, could you please let him know I am looking for him?" Toris requests.
        "Of course," you respond.  For some reason, the meek man makes your maternal instincts come out.  You wish you could find out just what has him so scared so that you can help.
        "T-thank you," he says again, raising his right hand weakly in a wave at the two of you before turning to go.
        You and Yekaterina carry on, walking and chatting together as you make a circuit around the camp.  You pass close to the officer's tents and you notice a little boy with messy blonde hair running at a sprint toward you.  You stop, staring at him as he crashes into Yekaterina, his tousled head seeming to be absorbed by her enormous breasts.
        "R-Ravis?  Is that you?" she asks, pulling the boy away and holding him at an arm's length by his shoulders.
        "Miss Braginsky?  What are you doing here?" he exclaims, his purple eyes going wide with shock.
        "It is you!  How have you been, my boy?" Yekaterina says cheerfully, ignoring his question.
        "Awful!  Working for Colonel Braginsky is too scary!  I would be a lot bigger than I am now if he didn't push down on my head so much!" the boy says indignantly, crossing his arms and pouting.
        "I-Is that so?  Ah, I wish I could talk to Vanya and set him straight like when we were children...," Yekaterina sighs.
        "Why are you here, little boy?  Are you in espionage?" you ask him, bending down to his level.  It would make sense for him to be a spy.
        The boy's face hardens suspiciously.  "You don't need to know," he tells you a little too quickly and a little too sharply.
        "I won't ask, then," you respond, straightening up.  You have your answer.
        "Who's she?" he asks Yekaterina, pointing at you.
        "This is my new friend, (y/n) (y/l/n)," she tells him with a smile.  "(y/n), this is Ravis Galante.  He also works for my little brother."
        "Nice to meet you," you tell him.
        "I guess...," he responds.  His eyes look haunted, just like Toris's did.  Is Yekaterina's brother really that terrifying?
        "You looked busy, young comrade.  Carry on with your work," you tell him, shooing him away from you.  "We don't want to get you in trouble."
        He looks up at you with surprise and nods, running off in the direction of one of the tents.  You watch him push back the flap and disappear.  After meeting Toris and Ravis, you're terribly curious about Yekaterina's "Vanya," but you're afraid to ask.  Every account of him you've heard is different, but you can't quite decide where the truth lies.
        "Hey, Yekaterina," you say and she turns to face you.  "Why can't you see your brother anymore?  Did something happen between the two of you?"
        "Oh, it is a long story.  It would probably be boring to you," she tells you, glancing away and looking embarrassed.
        "Probably not, but it's okay if you don't want to talk about it.  I won't pry," you say reassuringly.  You've seen how upset the topic has made her each time it's been brought up, but you can't sate your desire for insight.
        She smiles at you as you continue walking, your tents already in sight.  Her mouth opens as she's about to say something, but her face goes white as a sheet.  You follow her gaze over your shoulder and see a great hulk of a man standing with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, staring into the fire that has been set up in the middle of the women's tents.  You're only able to see him in profile, but he appears to have platinum blonde hair almost the same color as Yekaterina's and a rather prominent nose.  His face looks round and almost childish but his eyes are hard and serious.
        "I-I'm sorry, (y/n).  I can't be here right now," Yekaterina breathes, staring in wide-eyed shock at the man.  He turns his head toward you at the sound of her voice and you're immediately struck by his vibrant violet eyes.  They seem to see right through you and your knees feel weak.
        "привет, сестра," he says quietly.  His voice his higher and softer than you had imagined it would be given his size.  It's pleasant to the ears, though, and you feel like it could easily become bewitching.
        Yekaterina's blue eyes well up with tears as she bolts past you and the man.  "I am so sorry, Vanya!  One day we will be able to see each other again!" she cries.
        And so you're left with the man, not entirely sure what just happened but observant enough to know that this is the man you've been so curious about, Yekaterina's "Vanya" and Toris's "Colonel Braginsky."  You feel like you're participating in a staring match, your gaze firmly locked with his.  Even if you wanted to look away you can't.  It's as though a force is physically holding you in place.
        "Who are you?" he asks you in the same soft voice as before.  His expression doesn't change in the slightest and he regards you with something akin to boredom.
        "I am Private (y/n) (y/l/n), sir!" you respond, giving him a sharp salute.
        "I see...," he murmurs, still staring at you.  You feel uncomfortable under his gaze, as though you are a specimen being inspected under a microscope.  He takes a few steps closer to you and makes eye contact once again.  "At ease, comrade."
        You have to look up to see his face as he towers over you.  He's at least six feet tall, but probably well over that height.  Your estimation is somewhere between six feet three inches and six feet five inches.  And he's built like a tank, that much you can tell even under the uniform.  His shoulders are almost three times as broad as yours and his body appears to be lean and muscular judging by the way the sleeves of his uniform stretch taut over his biceps.  His blonde hair hangs down over his eyes as he looks down on you and you notice how it catches the firelight.
        "With all due respect, sir, may I ask your name?" you say, trying to break the tension between the two of you.  It is so thick you feel like you could cut it with a butter knife.
        "I am Colonel Ivan Braginsky, the officer in command of this company," he responds.  You can't help but think that he'd be terribly attractive if only he weren't so stone-faced, but you immediately berate yourself for thinking such a thing of a senior officer.  "You are a sniper, yes?"
        "Yes, sir!" you respond with pride.  You're so pleased that the Red Army has begun allowing women to serve in the military.
        Colonel Braginsky shakes his head.  "The battlefield is no place for women," he says and he seems to be faintly scowling.
        "We must all help to defend the Motherland.  It is our duty," you tell him, reciting the lines that you've been hearing ever since the war started.  "I am happy to be able to be of use."
        "How do I say it...?  It disgusts me to see women in uniform," he tells you, a dark smirk forming on his lips.  "It makes me want to massacre  every last Nazi, man, woman, and child..."
        You shiver at his words.  The amount of blood-thirst behind them is overwhelming and intimidating.  You are now beginning to understand why Toris and Ravis are so afraid of him.  But you won't allow yourself to be belittled and your stubborn streak decides to show itself.  "Begging your pardon, Colonel Braginsky, but I object to your sentiments.  We women work every bit as hard as the men do to earn our places in this army and we have every bit as much love for our country.  I love the Motherland with all my heart and I want to protect her with my life!" you declare, trying and failing to contain your passion.  You're shaking and your fists are clenched at your sides by the time you finish.
        Colonel Braginsky's eyebrow raises slightly underneath his hair and you think you see that his cheeks are red, though you assume it's due to the cold.  His expression remains otherwise impassive.  He muttered something that sounds suspiciously like," Him..." during your little speech but you aren't quite sure.  "I see," he says.  "Make sure to rest tonight, Private (y/l/n).  I doubt we will have such an easy time from now on."  He brushes past you as he leaves and you swear the air is colder around him.
        "Thank you, sir!  Goodnight, sir!" you call after him, watching his back as he melts into the crowd.  What an odd man...  You still aren't satisfied, however.  If anything, your brief meeting with him has only made you more interested in him.  You want to know why he hates the Nazis so much and what caused his personality to become so... warped.  Why he seems so cold.  And, as much as it embarrasses you to admit it even to yourself, you can't help but find him inexplicably attractive.
        Then, another thought passes through your mind.  What will Natalia do if she finds out I spoke to her brother after promising not to?  Oh dear...