Germany x Reader (Valentine's Day) and Anime Pick-Up Lines

Konichiwa!  Turtle-chan here on the most obnoxious holiday celebrated in the world (as far as I know)!  Yep, that's right.  Today is Valentine's Day.  Or Single's Awareness Day as some of the kids at school call it.  Or Forever Alone Day.  Anyway, I decided to do something amusing to "celebrate" and I've compiled a list of anime pick-up lines.  Some of these are actually in anime and others are pick-up lines that I've seen people use for anime characters (mainly Hetalia).  So, enjoy these and probably don't use them unless you're cosplaying or if you want to get slapped...  Also, I apologize for one of them because it's extremely inappropriate, but it was so funny I had to put it in there.  You'll know it when you see it...

"And I'm known for my bullets never missing their mark. Especially if it's the heart of a beautiful lady. BANG!" ~Vash the Stampede (Trigun)

“Become one with Russia, da?” ~Russia (Hetalia)

“If you vere a potato, you voult be a sveet potato.” ~Germany (Hetalia)

“I can’t lose in front of someone who loves me.” ~Shizuo Heiwajma (Durarara!!)

“Just lie back and think of me, luv.” ~England (Hetalia)    (I apologize from the bottom of my heart...)

“My, you’re gorgeous!  Do you have any French in you?  Would you like one?” ~ France (Hetalia)

“On a scale of one to America, how free are you tonight?” ~ America (Hetalia)

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a dirty mind like mine?” ~ France (Hetalia)

“Do you know kung fu?  Because your body is kickin’!” ~ China (Hetalia)

“How would you like to be m’wife?” ~ Sweden (Hetalia)

“Be my sunflower, da?” ~Russia (Hetalia)

And an extra pick-up line that an acquaintance of mine used on me the other day as I joke (I think...): "You're like a baby: cute and easy to pin down."  Yes, I'm aware that it's really horrible.  He has a very strange and twisted sense of humor...

I have a Valentine's Day installment of the Germany x Reader story, too.  I even included some cultural stuff!  Yay!  To be perfectly honest with you guys, I'm not really sure what people are supposed to do on Valentine's Day.  I've only had one Valentine's Day in which I was dating someone and I was a freshman at that point, so obviously it had no real significance.  I basically just BSed it to the best of my abilities!  It's not that great, but I guess it sort of has a cuteness factor...  Maybe...  Oh well.  Enjoy!  And Happy Valentine's Day I guess!

- Turtle-chan

“Hey, hey, (y/n)~!” Italy shouts, coming up behind you as you’re walking to the laundry room.  You turn around to face him.

“What’s up, Italy?” you ask him, situating the basket of laundry onto your hip for better support.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” he asks you, smiling.

You think for a few moments before shaking your head.  “I don’t know.  Is there something special going on tomorrow?” you ask him, feeling confused.

“It’s Valentine’s Day~!” he tells you, spinning in a circle with his arms raised and a broad grin on his face.

“Oh.  Hm, that is tomorrow, isn’t it…?  I guess I should bake something for you guys…” you muse to yourself.

“Vee~!  Aren’t you going to do something for Germany?” Italy asks you and you blush furiously.

“N-no, I don’t think so.  Not outside of what I’m doing for all of you guys, that is,” you respond, extremely embarrassed.  “D-do you think I should…?”  You peek up at Italy shyly.

“Si!  I think so!” Italy tells you and you nod.

“Right.  Um, I’ve never actually done this kind of thing before, actually…  What should I do?” you ask him uncomfortably.  So embarrassing!

“Hmm…  Well, in my country sometimes the girls get up really, really early because there’s a legend that says that the first man they see on Valentine’s day will be the man they marry.  Oh!  And we give each other chocolates called Baci Perugia!” he says enthusiastically.

“Neither of those things really seems like something Germany would like…” you sigh.  You really don’t know what to do.

“Ah, I apologize, but I could not help but overhear your conversation,” Japan says, giving a slight bow.  “May I offer some advice?”

“By all means, please do,” you respond, curious as to what he has to say.

He nods.  “In my country, Valentine’s Day is a day in which girls make chocolates and give them to the person they love.  The men reciprocate on White Day in March with gifts for the women who gave them chocolates.  Perhaps you could try making chocolates for Germany-san, (Y/n)-san,” Japan tells you.

You think for a moment.  “That could work,” you tell him.  “But I don’t know how to make chocolates…”

“Do not worry, (y/n)-san.  I have a recipe book with instructions on making chocolates.  You may borrow it if you wish,” Japan assures you.

“Thank you, Japan.  I may take you up on your offer,” you tell him with a smile.  “But first, I need to deal with this laundry!”

What should I do?  I don’t know what Germany would like and I don’t know how he feels about me, so I don’t want to freak him out…  Argh!  Why does this have to be so complicated!  This is why I didn’t bother with romance back home!  Well, and of course there was the fact that all of the guys were jerks…  But that’s beside the point!  What do I do?

With your mind thus occupied, you decide to take a walk outside to clear your head.  The air is much warmer than it has been, but you know there’s a cold front coming in.  You climb your way up to the top of a hill and sit down, leaning your back against the trunk of the old oak tree and looking out at the setting sun.  The sky is painted in shades of pink and orange and red.  There’s something about it that seems different.  It seems more beautiful than other sunsets you’ve seen.  You let out a sigh and lean your head back against the tree, closing your eyes.  Soon, you fall into a doze.

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside.  The second is that there is something heavy and warm covering you.  You look down and realize that it’s Germany’s uniform jacket.

“Hm?” you groan, rubbing your eyes.  You put your hands on the ground to push yourself into a straighter sitting position, but your right hand lands on someone else’s hand.

“Oh, you voke up,” you hear Germany say from beside you.  The hand turns over and holds yours loosely.

“U-uh, y-yeah,” you stammer, not sure how to react.  “I didn’t realize I was tired, I guess.”

“It is fine,” he tells you.  “I vas out trainink anyvay.”

“Really?  You don’t usually train in your uniform,” you blurt out.  You’re still drowsy.

“U-um, vell,” Germany stammers and you realize you’ve embarrassed him.

So, you laugh.  “It’s really nice out tonight,” you say, looking up at the stars.

“J-ja,” Germany says, sounding relieved that you changed the subject.  “Zee sky is fery klear.”

“It is.  All of the stars are shining so beautifully,” you smile.  “I love to just sit out here and look into the sky at night.  The starlight is so pretty, but it’s sad to know that many of those stars are already dead and their light is only just now reaching us.  I guess that’s the beauty of it, though.  Nothing lasts forever, so it’s best to enjoy things while you can.  Or maybe I’m just a romantic…”

“I like zee vay you sink, Mädchen.  You alvays see somesink beautiful no matter vhat ozers sink,” he tells you gruffly and you giggle.

“You’re so sweet, Germany,” you tell him, surprised at your own boldness.  It’s easier to talk to him like this in the dark.  You hear Germany say something quietly beside you, but you don’t catch the words.  “I’m sorry, what did you say?  I missed that.”

“If you vere a potato, you voult be a sveet potato,” he repeats.  “I am sorry.  It is somesink silly zat Italy mentionet before.  Do not pay any mint to it.”

You’re struggling to contain your laughter.  You’re pretty sure that was a pick-up line, but it was horribly cheesy.  You can’t help it and you start laughing, tears coming to your eyes.  You double over and rest your forehead against Germany’s arm.  “Come on,” you say, wiping your tears away as you recover yourself.  “Let’s head back inside.   I’m sure Italy is done cooking dinner by now.”

“J-ja,” Germany responds, letting go of your hand and standing.  You hand his jacket back to him and start off down the hill toward the house.

~~~

Later that night, after everyone has gone to bed, you creep downstairs to the kitchen.  You quietly pull out a chair and get down all of the ingredients you need.  Then, you go and set the oven to about 182 degrees Celsius.  You quickly mix everything together in a bowl and distribute it into three cake pans.  You put the pans into the oven and set a timer before cleaning up the table.  While you wait for the cake to bake, you begin making the frosting.  The timer goes off and you pull the cakes out and set them on a cooling rack for several minutes.  You melt some bittersweet chocolate over a double boiler as the cakes cool.  Then, you frost the layers and pour the chocolate over them.  You stick the cake into the very back of the fridge where none of the guys should see it and clean up the kitchen before going back up to your room and falling asleep.

It seems as though your head has just hit the pillow when you hear Germany yelling that it’s time to get up and train.  You sit up and rub your eyes sleepily before getting up to put on clothes.  You walk down the stairs and yawn,” Good morning everyone.”

“Good morning, (y/n)-san,” Japan responds.

“Good morning~!  Happy Valentine’s Day!” Italy exclaims, hugging you around the neck.  You stagger a little at the impact of him running into you and pat him on the back a little awkwardly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Italy,” you respond.  Over Italy’s shoulder you see Germany standing in the doorway, watching you.  You smile at him shyly, feeling your stomach flutter a little.  He looks away.

“Kome on.  It is time to shtart trainink,” he says, walking outside.  You peel yourself away from Italy and follow him.

The workout is tough, as usual, but you don’t feel like you’re going to die by the end of it, so it’s a good day.  You go straight up to take a shower before grabbing some yogurt to eat for breakfast.  Your stomach feels all fluttery and you’re nervous already.  Part of you wants to believe that Germany returns your feelings, but the other part is convinced that he only thinks of you as someone he has to take care of, like Italy and Japan.

Germany is working, locked up in his office, so you decide to wait to give him his gift.  In the meantime, you give Italy and Japan theirs.  You made special dessert pasta for Italy and he loves it, as you expected.  You give Japan some chocolates, a little on the bitter side since you don’t see him eating sweet things very often.  He thanks you politely.  You end up deciding to wait until after dinner to give Germany his gift.

The day passes slowly, like molasses in the winter, but eventually dinner time is over and you’re incredibly nervous.  You go to wash the dishes, but Germany takes them from your hands.

“I vill help,” he tells you.  O-oh…

You stand beside him at the sink, drying the dishes as he hands them to you.  You’re standing so close that he brushes against you if he moves his arms.  You feel yourself blushing and you try your hardest to focus on the dishes.  There are butterflies in your stomach and your heart is fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.  The sensation is unpleasant and nice at the same time.

Germany puts the dishes up for you, since you can’t reach into his cabinets.  “Um, (y/n)?” Germany says, his hand still in the cabinet.

“Hm?” you respond, pondering whether you should go ahead and give him the cake or not.

“Here,” he says, holding something out to you.  “Zese are for you.  H-happy Valentine’s Day.”  You look down and see a plate of heart-shaped ginger cookies decorated in white icing.  One of them reads,” Ich mag dich.”

Germany is blushing furiously, red all the way up to his ears.  You take the plate from him and set it down on the counter before picking up the cookie with words on it.  “What does this mean, Germany?” you ask him and you watch him grow more embarrassed.

“I like you,” he says quietly, looking away from you.  You blush deeply and quickly walk over to the refrigerator to pull out the cake after putting the cookie back on the plate.

You take it over to him and hold it out, blushing and looking away from him.  It is a little German chocolate cake and the chocolate drizzled on top of it reads,” Happy Valentine’s Day, Germany.”  He takes the tiny cake from you and sets it on the counter beside the cookies.

“Ich mag dich auch, Germany,” you say quietly, looking down at the floor.

There is an awkward silence between the two of you for several moments before Germany steps forward and wraps his arms around you loosely.  It takes you by surprise, but you quickly wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest.  You hear his heart pounding like the bass line to a heavy metal song and you smile.  You feel him bury his face in your hair as he holds you closer.  It’s sweet and peaceful and everything feels right.  His arms are strong and comforting and you feel safe.  Every time you inhale, you’re surrounded by his scent.  You feel warm and fuzzy inside and you don’t even care that you’re blushing anymore.

After a while, you break apart and Germany makes some coffee.  You sit down together at the kitchen table and eat the sweets you made for each other.  You talk a little and look at each other a lot.  Little do you know that Italy and Japan have been watching everything and Japan has been taking pictures.  He even managed to get one of Germany smiling at you while you aren’t looking.  He is planning to hold those over Germany’s head in the future if need be.

Germany X Reader (The Beast)

Konbanwa!  It is Friday the 13th and I have had a really busy week, but I'm finally posting again!  I'm going back to my Germany fanfic for a little bit, just so I can keep the story going.  Also, Doitsu.  Need I say more?  Nope, I don't!  Anway, this is pretty much just for comedy purposes and because I just loved thinking about how Germany would handle this kind of situation.  Enjoy!


- Turtle-chan

I’m going to die.  I am absolutely going to collapse and die right here.  You are right in the middle of an extra hard-core training session with Germany.  Italy has already collapsed, after having thrown up in the bushes twice, and Japan is even visibly struggling.  You feel sick to your stomach and your arms and legs feel like jell-o.  You hair has fallen halfway out of its ponytail and is plastered to your face and chest with sweat.  The only one who doesn’t seem to be having problems is Germany, although he is sweating profusely as well.

“Ninety-sefen…  Ninety-eight…  Ninety-nine…  One hundret,” Germany calls out.  You sigh in relief and allow your arms to finally give out under you after the last push up.

“Thank goodness,” you sigh into the damp grass, struggling to catch your breath.

“Are we done yet?” Italy sobs on the ground next to you.

Germany looks around at the three of you.  Japan is sitting up politely, but even he appears to be exhausted.  Germany sighs.  “Ja, I zuppose so,” he says, standing up and wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt.

“Yay~!” you and Italy cheer wearily.

Italy stands up and runs to the house with Japan following behind him.  You roll over onto your back and cover your eyes with one arm.  You focus on breathing and finally manage to slow your heart rate.  You then try to work up the will to stand, but that’s a little more difficult.

“Are you alright?” you hear a deep voice ask.

You look up to see Germany standing over you and you give him a tired smile.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  That was some workout today, huh?” you respond.

“I voult haf liket to do more, but I sink zere voult haf been a mutiny if I hat,” he responds a little petulantly, but you can tell he’s trying to make a joke.

You giggle.  “Oh, Japan wouldn’t have said anything and Italy would have done his usual.  My body might have given out on you, but other than that it would have been fine,” you tell him.

The corner of his mouth twitches a little.  “Vell, I zuppose I koult karry you if zat vere ze kase,” he says.  Wow, two jokes in a row.  That’s a new record.

“Ha!  You might have to anyway,” you respond laughingly.  “I don’t think I can get up!”

“Voult you like some help?” he asks, extending a large hand to you.

You reach up and take it.  “Thanks,” you say as you allow him to pull you to your feet.  Once you’re standing, the world starts to spin around you at weird angles and you stagger into Germany.  “Woah.  That’s not cool,” you say, trying to bring your focus back in.  Your vision goes black around the edges before finally becoming normal again and you stare straight forward into Germany’s chest for a few moments before trusting your eyes again.

“Are you alright?” Germany asks with concern.  You realize that his hands are gripping your upper arms, keeping you steady.

“Yeah, just a little dizzy for a second there.  Low blood pressure.  It happens a lot,” you respond quickly and cheerfully.  “Well, I’m gonna go in and take a shower now.  I feel really gross.”

You smile up at him and skip into the house and up the stairs.  You peel off the layers of sticky, sweaty clothes and throw them into the laundry basket as soon as you’re in the bathroom.  You pull a towel out of the cabinet and you’re about to get into the shower when you see something that makes your blood run cold.

It’s huge.  The bright lights in the bathroom glint off of its shiny body and you wonder how you didn’t notice it before.  The chestnut colored hairs on its thin legs stick up at all angles in a manner both comical and horrifying.  It turns its head and its big black eyes stare straight at you.

“AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!” you screech, loud enough to startle the boys downstairs.

You hear heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs and soon Germany throws open the door to the bathroom.  “(Y/N)!  Vat is wrong?  Are you hurt?” Germany shouts as he comes in.  You’re suddenly very glad you forgot to lock the door.

You don’t look up at him, but you point at the thing in the bathtub.  A cockroach.  Big, brown, and disgusting.  Its antennae twitch around in the air and it seems to be trying to determine why everything got so loud all of a sudden.

Germany very seriously nods and takes off one of his boots.  He walks over to the bathtub, rears back, and smacks the heavy boot down on the cockroach.  You hear the stomach-turning crunch it makes as he breaks its exoskeleton.  He then takes a wad of toilet paper and picks up the broken corpse.  Around that time, Italy and Japan walk into the room.

“What’s wrong, Germany?” Italy asks, peering into the room at the two of you.

“Cockroach,” Germany responds, holding out the tissue with the roach’s dead body in it.  Italy takes one look, screams about like you did, and clings to Japan, dragging him out of the room.  Germany, on the other hand, takes the roach and flushes it down the toilet.  “Zere.  It is gone.”

“Thanks, Germany,” you tell him a little sheepishly.

“I-It is quite alright,” he responds.  You look up at him, wondering why he stuttered and you see that is face is quite red.  Then it hits you.  The towel is covering the front of your body, but not the back and he’s been standing behind you.

Your face turns a similar shade of red to Germany’s and you back up against the shower curtain to hide your exposed backside.  “Uh, yeah, well, I’m just going to take my shower now,” you say awkwardly.

“J-Ja,” he responds, peeling his eyes away from you.  “I vill be goink now.”

He leaves, seeming embarrassed, and you lock the door behind him.  You turn the water on and step underneath it, letting it wash over you.  Ahh!  I’m so embarrassed! I can’t believe he saw my butt!  Oh no!  They all saw it!  Ahh!  What am I gonna do?!  Ohh!  Stupid cockroach!

You step out of the shower with your body a uniform shade of dark pink and you’re glad of it because you’re still blushing.  You go back to your room and put on the baggiest pants and shirt you can find.  You just feel like hiding now, but you have to go downstairs to start working on dinner.  You walk down the stairs and find all of the guys in the living room.  Japan and Germany blush when they see you and Italy beams at you like usual.

“(Y/n)!  You have a really nice body~!  You shouldn’t cover it up so much~!” he tells you.  You go beet red and Germany looks like he just wants to disappear.  Japan’s cheeks turn a slightly deeper shade of pink and you think that you notice his nose bleeding a little, but you’re sure it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.

“So, what do we want for dinner, guys?” you ask, pretending you didn’t hear him.

Germany and Japan shake their heads while Italy gives his usual answer: “PASTAAAA~!”

“I’ll think of something, I guess,” you tell them and you walk into the kitchen.

They all noticed.  They totally noticed.  Ugh!  I don’t know how to face them again!  It’s so awkward!

Italy giggles to himself as he watches Germany’s face transition through several shades of red as he tries to get the image of your naked body out of his head.  Japan is too embarrassed to notice.

"Don't Fear the Reaper" - Main Character Introductions

Konichiwa!  Turtle-chan here to discuss her current pet project!  I talked about the three main stories I'm working on right now, but I didn't talk about how "Don't Fear the Reaper," the one about the grim reaper and shinigami, is my pet project.  Well, it is.  For some reason, this idea has lodged itself in my head and I have absolutely fallen in love with it.  The characters are so different from the ones I usually write and it has this great gothic feel to it.  I just love it!  So anyway, I'm going to show you the pictures I got my inspiration for the characters' appearances from and tell you some things about them so you can get a feel for their personalities!  Woohoo!  By the way, this is sort of an exercise to help me with character development (I always have problems with that).

Name: Absinthe Graves
Species: Grim Reaper
Appearance: Albino (white hair, white skin), heterochromic (blue-red), hair down to waistline of pants (if she were to wear pants), wears black lace dresses (ballroom length), tall end of average height (5'6"), very slender, surprisingly muscular (as in toned muscles, not super manly muscles)
Personality: Logical, calculating, emotionally detached, introverted, laconic, professional, romantic, loyal, honest, stoical
Likes: Cemeteries, cold weather, rain, music, roses, black lace, solitude, poetry
Dislikes: Speaking, the sun, disobeying orders, men, snow (makes the sun feel brighter)
Weapon: Death scythe disguised as a black parasol
Fear: Emotional contact with other beings (basically, vulnerability)
Other: Celeste Summers is her best friend, lives in a cemetery, brilliant poet but no one knows about it



Name: Akiyama Tomoe (Japanese style) or Tomoe Akiyama (English style)
Species: Shinigami (Japanese death god)
Appearance: Japanese, grey eyes, black hair, olive-toned skin, very muscular, hair 3/4 down back (usually in a ponytail), wears dark green kimono, very tall (6'1")
Personality: Respectful to authority, confident, a touch of a player, narcissistic, cold, logical, hardworking, loyal, manipulative, impulsive, appears extroverted (is actually introverted)
Likes: Sake, fighting, women, music, hot baths, himself (or so it appears)
Dislikes: Failure, obnoxious people, clingy women, cold weather, rain
Weapon: Samurai swords (one long one for fighting and one short one for hara-kiri)
Fear: Himself (a fear of not living up to people's expectations)
Other: Attracted to Absinthe, lives in a Japanese-style manor, no known friends


So yeah, those two are my babies.  They're probably the most complex characters I've ever come up with except maybe for my Alice in Wonderland story which I need to work on eventually.  Isn't Absinthe beautiful, though?  I just love her name (if you don't know, absinthe is an extremely strong alcoholic beverage which is largely illegal in the U.S. and Edgar Allan Poe used to drink a lot of it).  Absinthe is kind of my baby.  And Tomoe is just super sexy!  He's an interesting dude, too.  I know that just reading about him he sounds like a horrible person (shinigami...), and he is to an extent, but that's what makes him so interesting.  I don't know, I'm just really enjoying writing this!  By the way, the first picture is by asuka111 on Deviant Art and it is called "Ruby Eyes."  The second is by heise on Deviant Art and it is called "A Drop of Green."  I found both of them on Pinterest and I think they're both lovely.
Anyway, I'm going to go and continue writing, so I'll catch you guys later.  Hopefully I'll have something for you guys to read before too long.


- Turtle-chan

Heads Up

Konbanwa!  I've finally had some inspiration and I'm working on three different stories right now that are NOT fanfiction.  Yay!  I haven't reached the point that I'm near enough to finishing any of them to post them, but I just wanted to let you guys know that I am working on stuff again.  I've just had the worst case of writer's block for the past several months, and fanfics are easy to write.  That's why I've been doing so many.  I guess while I'm here I'll let you know a general idea of what the stories are about.
1. "Odette or Odile?" - I reused the title from my Russia fanfic because I loved the concept of a story about ballet and characters that are a little questionable.  Don't worry, I'm not going to do any crazy Black Swan type thing.  Actually, it may involve the Russian mafia.  I'm not quite sure yet.
2. "Don't Fear the Reaper" - A grim reaper and a shinigami are paired up for their missions because of their skills, but they're like day and night.  Absinthe Graves, a (British?  Maybe?) stoic, heterochromic albino and Akiyama Tomoe, a conceited, Japanese ronin, pair up to harvest souls and send spirits on.  Can the two get along?  How will their differences affect their work?  Do opposites really attract?
3. "Fight like a Lady" (tentative title...) - Who says girls can't be samurai?  Himura Umeko (tentative name...) is the only child of a small family of samurai during Sengoku Jidai Japan.  Because there are no male heirs to the family, Umeko has trained to become the family head.  This means that she has learned the way of the samurai, much to the discontent of some neighboring daimyo.  She is a headstrong, confident, and beautiful girl and her men respect her.  On her journey to becoming a great samurai general, she goes head-to-head with some of the most skilled (and handsome) samurai in Japan.  Will she be able to become victorious, or will she be forced to return to the role of a lowly maiden?
So yeah, there are my corny little summaries.  I am really excited about "Don't Fear the Reaper" because I think I have two really cool characters in Absinthe and Tomoe, but they're also completely different from what I've written before!  Also, the samurai one came about due to my youngest brother, who is over a decade younger than I am, and I having a conversation a couple of nights ago.  My brother is really into ninja whereas my other brother and I prefer samurai and consider ninja dishonorable.  The younger brother said that he wants to dress up like a ninja next Halloween and have the older brother be a samurai so that they can fight.  I said I could be a samurai as well (it is my goal in life, after all!) but he told me that girls can't be samurai.  So of course I thought to myself," Hmm...  A female samurai, huh?  I bet she could cause all kinds of trouble..." and so Umeko was born.  I don't know if I'll be keeping that name or that title, but the story idea is what I want.  I just started working on that one like an hour ago, though, so it will probably be a while.  Also, I'm just going to warn you that I'm going to completely destroy history because I hate Tokugawa and I kind of want to torture him a little....
Anyway, I'm going to write a little more and then go to bed, I think.  I look forward to finally being able to post something that isn't fanfiction~!  Catch you reader-sans later!


- Turtle-chan

Odette or Odile: Russia x Reader One Shot

Konichiwa, reader-sans!  For some reason, I got inspired all of a sudden last night to do a Russia one shot involving ballet.  Weird, I know.  So, I wrote it and I just finished it and now I'm posting it.  As usual.  Before I let you get to the story, however, I am going to explain a few things I put in there.  One: the French words are largely ballet terms, so translating them directly will probably make no sense.
Two: it's set in Soviet Russia and I do have Stalin as a minor character.  I'm not supporting Communism or any of the horrible things Stalin did to his people, so don't freak out.  Stalin was just well known for bringing foreign diplomats to see performances of Swan Lake.
Three: yes, it's Swan Lake.  For any of you who don't know anything about the story, basically there's a girl (Odette) in love with a prince (Seigfried), then the villain turns her into a swan and tries to get the prince to marry his daughter (Odile) who looks exactly like Odette (hence the black swan.  Black is Odile and white is Odette).  Odette and Odile are traditionally played by the same dancer.  Swan Lake is also considered a ballet that demonstrates life in Russia, particularly Soviet Russia.
Four: I really don't like using the headcannon human names for the countries in Hetalia, but I felt that the situation required it, so I used Ivan Bravinsky instead of Russia...  *sigh*
Anyhow, here's the story.  It's not great, but it's not terrible.  I've done ballet for the past thirteen years, so professionals really impress me.  In case you aren't aware, ballet takes a tremendous amount of strength and endurance so that you can have that kind of control and poise.  The pains of beauty, basically.  Also, if you don't bleed in, sweat in, and cry on or because of your pointe shoes, you're not doing it right!  And without further ado, here's the story!  Catch you guys later, da?  (^J^)


- Turtle-chan

This is my favorite picture of Russia that I've found on the internet.  I wish I knew who did it, because it's beautiful!  His expression~! (>//////<)

“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit,” you count to yourself as you pull yourself as close to the ground as possible.  There is a slight pulling of the muscles of your inner thigh, but as you continue to breathe you feel the muscles stretching and relaxing.  You sit up straight and lean forward, in between your legs, trying to see if you can press your stomach to the ground without letting your legs move.  You’re almost there and the stretch feels amazing.

                You get to your feet and use your ankles to go onto your toes.  You feel your pointe shoes bending with the motion of your feet and then you’re up.  You look in the mirror and see the perfect line your legs and feet are making and you smile just a little bit to yourself.  You stand in front of the mirror and watch your feet, correcting little mistakes, as you warm up with some relevés.

                “Hey, (y/n),” a voice says from the corner of the room behind you.  You turn your head and look over without coming off pointe to see your friend and fellow dancer standing in the doorway.

                “Oh, hey, Karina,” you respond with a smile.  Karina is one of the few dancers you could actually get along with.  She is beautiful, with her gorgeous platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and porcelain white skin, but she’s not stuck up about it like so many of the other girls.  She has a sweet, heart-shaped, childish face with big eyes and long lashes.  She’s a few years older than you, but she’s like a little sister.

                “Mistress wants you to come see her.  She says there is someone here who wants to see you,” Karina tells you, looking up at you innocently.

                “Alright.  I’m coming,” you respond, gracefully coming down from your toes.  You walk with your weight on the balls of your feet because the hard shoes make it difficult to walk normally.  Karina walks down the hall with you, leading you to Mistress.  You walk arm in arm.  “So, who am I supposed to be meeting?  It’s not another creepy old guy, is it?”

                “No, I don’t think so,” Karina giggles.  “You need to be on your best behavior, though.  He’s very important.”

                “Oh, so Mistress’s latest lover, then?” you tease, watching Karina’s cheeks turn a bright pink.

                “(y/n)!” she exclaims.  “That’s terrible!”

                “But it’s not unfounded,” you respond, grinning at her.

                She shakes her head and stops walking in front of a door leading to an unused dressing room.  “I’m serious, (y/n).  No funny business.  Just behave.  Smile, look pretty, and don’t say anything embarrassing, okay?” she says, trying to put on a serious face.

                “Alright, alright.  I get it.  Be a doll,” you respond, smirking.

                “Well, I guess that’s the best I can get out of you,” she sighs.  “Okay, go on in.”

                You wave at her and knock on the door as she walks away with a look of concern on her face.  “Come in,” you hear the Mistress say from the other side of the door.

                You slowly open the door and look inside.  The room is covered with props and costumes left unused for quite some time, but someone has at least made the effort of dusting.  There are a few lamps casting a soft yellow glow around the room.  You see three figures inside: the tall, thin shape of the Mistress, a man of about average height with a broad build wearing a military uniform, and a huge, towering man in a long coat.

                “Ah, (y/n)!  You’re here!  Good,” the Mistress says a little too cheerfully as she beckons you over.  “We have a very important guest here tonight.”

                You walk over and stand near the Mistress.  You can make out the features of the men a bit better now and when you do, you have to struggle to maintain your composure.  The shorter of the two men has a heavily pockmarked face and thick eyebrows.  He appears to be smiling underneath his gargantuan mustache.  “Hello, Comrade.  I am Joseph Stalin,” he says.  “You are to play the role of Odette tonight, yes?”

                “Yes, sir.  I am (y/n) (l/n).  It is an honor to meet you,” you tell him, giving a small curtsey and averting your eyes.

                “Ah, that is good.  I so enjoy Swan Lake.  It is very lovely,” he says, chuckling a bit.

                “I hope the performance will be to your liking, sir,” you murmur.

                “Yes, yes.  My comrade here hopes so as well.  He is so picky about his ballet,” Stalin tells you good-naturedly.  “Well, go on.  Introduce yourself.”

                Stalin gives his friend a slap on the back and he glances over at you.  You’re instantly entranced by his strange, violet eyes.  “Hello.  I am Ivan Bravinsky.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” he says in a quiet but deep voice.  His mouth is largely obscured by his thick white scarf, but his eyes seem to be smiling.

                “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well,” you tell him, forcing yourself to look away from him.  You feel a blush spread over your cheeks.

                “Well, I believe that (y/n) needs to join the other dancers backstage.  The performance will begin soon,” the Mistress says, starting to send you to the door.

                “Good luck,” Stalin tells you.  “Do Mother Russia proud!”

                “Thank you, sir.  I hope you will enjoy our humble performance,” you respond, giving Ivan a final glance before you leave the room.  He seems to have a strange expression on his face, sort of like amusement but not quite, but it’s hard to tell in the semi-darkness and your mind has already moved on by the time you close the door.  It’s go time.

                You glance around to make sure no one is around before you start to run.  You just manage to make it to the wings before anyone notices your absence.  Or so you think.

                “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” you hear a male voice ask.  You grimace and flinch a little.

                “Oh, you’re too harsh with her, brother.  She wouldn’t consider it close until she missed the first act,” a female voice giggles unpleasantly.

                You compose yourself and turn around to see Sergei and Nastya McCarthyov, your two least favorite members of the company, standing behind you wearing identical smiles.

                Sergei and Nastya are fraternal twins with the same blonde hair that’s almost the same color as the snow outside and the same skin so pale that it’s almost translucent.  They even have the same icy blue eyes.  Sergei is playing the role of Prince Seigfried and Nastya was going to play Odette, but you were put in the position at the last second.  They hold a grudge against you because of that and because you are not a native born Russian.  You’ve lived in Russia since you were only a few months old, but that isn’t good enough for the proud McCarthyovs.

                “The Mistress wished for me to meet some important people before the performance.  I hope I haven’t caused an inconvenience in obeying the wishes of our proud leader,” you respond with saccharine sweetness.

                The twins exchange a quick glance and then smile back at you.  “Oh, of course not.  We just wanted to make sure you weren’t worried about being late,” Nastya replies.  Sergei nods amiably beside her.

                “Aw, your concern is so sweet,” you tell them.  “I’m alright, though.  I hope we’re all prepared to give a wonderful performance tonight.”

                “Of course, Odette,” Sergei responds.  “See you on stage.”  The two walk off arm in arm, throwing matching smirks over their shoulders at you.

                “Hey, hurry up and get ready!  It’s almost time to go on!” Karina exclaims from behind you.  You jump a little and turn around to face her.

                “Does my makeup look alright?” you ask her.

                She gives you an appraising look and then smiles.  “Yep, you look gorgeous as always.  Are you nervous?”  she says.

                You think for a moment and shake your head.  “No, not yet.  I probably will be when the curtain goes up, but I’ll be fine,” you tell her.

                She giggles at you and shakes her head.  “I don’t know how you’re able to be so calm and confident.  I’m a nervous wreck and all I am is a little swan!” she laughs.

                “Aw, it’ll be fine, Karina.  Most of the audience doesn’t know what we’re supposed to be doing anyway, so it’ll be alright even if you mess up a little.  But I know you won’t.  Worrying always makes you perform better,” you assure her.

                She smiles and blushes a little.  “Thanks, (y/n).  You always know how to make me feel better.  Good luck!” she tells you, hugging you and planting air kisses on each of your cheeks.  You do the same for her and then she disappears into the crowd of bodies and you move closer to the stage and check the laces on your pointe shoes.  Alright.  I’m ready.  You take a few deep breaths in and out as you hear the orchestra begin to play, quelling the fluttering of the butterflies in your stomach as the curtain rises.  You go out onto the stage and dance like you’ve never danced before.

                Everything seems so much easier this performance.  Every jeté, every bourre'e, every fouetté rond de jambe en tournantI, every move seems natural and fluid.  You have an astonishing amount of control and the pain in your toes is ignorable.  Even when you have to allow Sergei to touch you and when you have to pretend to be in love with him, nothing can destroy your utter calm.  And when the performance is over, you step forward and give a deep, graceful bow.  As you raise your head, you notice Joseph Stalin and Ivan Bravinsky standing and applauding.  Ivan catches your eye and nods slowly.  You smile and look away from him.

                The curtain closes once again and everyone moves off to get changed and then go home.  You aren’t an exception.  You go to the dressing room and pull out your clothes before peeling off your tutu and pulling your hair down.  You slip into the warm clothes and put a heavy jacket on over them.  Last, but not least, you carefully untie your pointe shoes and tuck them into their bag, along with your toe pads.  You slip on a pair of street shoes, pick up your bag, and walk out of the dressing room and onto the street.  It’s snowing outside, as per the usual in the Russian winter, and you shiver.  You hadn’t expected it to be quite this cold.  You shrug and start walking in the direction of your apartment, smiling and humming to yourself.  You playfully exhale into the night air, watching as your breath freezes and makes clouds around your head.

                “Ah, hello, (y/n),” you hear a voice say from behind you.

                “Yes, hello,” another, more feminine voice says.  Oh crap…

                “Hello, Sergei.  Nastya,” you reply cheerfully as you turn to face the twins.

                “Fancy seeing you out here, far from home and far from the theater,” Nastya says.  Her mouth is smiling but her eyes are not.

                “Yes, it’s quite interesting that we should run into each other,” you respond, hoping that your face doesn’t betray the wariness that has come over you.  Something isn’t right…

                “Well, my sister and I just wished to… talk,” Sergei says.  That’s definitely a threat.

                “Oh, really?  Well, what about?  It’s a touch chilly outside, so I hope it doesn’t take too long,” you say, feigning ignorance.

                “Oh, it won’t,” he replies and you notice Nastya has stopped smiling.

                “That’s right.  Now, if you’ll just be quiet and come with us it’ll all be over before you know it,” Nastya purrs and you feel Sergei’s hand clamp down over your mouth.  Your eyes go wide and you try to scream, but the sound is muffled.  You’re panicking and it’s hard to breathe.  Nastya has something in her hand, but you can’t see what it is.  You’re flailing around, digging your nails into Sergei’s skin and trying to free yourself but nothing works.

                “Oh, you are playing a game, da?” you hear a deep voice ask and Nastya and Sergei seem to freeze in place.  “May I join in?”

                “Ha!  I will take care of this one, Sergei,” Nastya scoffs, approaching the speaker who is outside your field of vision.

                “Oh, you don’t want to play with me, then,” the voice says sadly.  “Well, I don’t like to hit girls, but you leave me no choice.”  You hear a loud thunk with a sort of metallic ringing sound and another meatier thud as something hits the ground.  You feel Sergei start to tremble.

                “My sister.  You killed my sister!” Sergei roars, swinging you around as he faces the speaker.

                When your vision focuses you look to see who Sergei is angry with and your eyes widen when you realize that you have met him.  It’s Ivan, the captivating man you met before the ballet.  He has a broad smirk on his face and his violet eyes are narrowed.  He’s holding something that sort of looks like a detached faucet on a metal pipe.  “Oh, I didn’t kill her.  Not yet.  I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for women and children, but you’re a man.  I won’t go easy on you,” he says menacingly.

                “You…  You…  You bastard!” Sergei shouts, leaning in toward Ivan.

                Ivan casually glances down at his pipe and runs his gloved hands over it.  “Hm, I wish people would be a little more creative with their insults.  It gets so boring to hear the same things over and over again,” he muses.

                “What the hell do you want?” Sergei hisses.  His grip keeps tightening and you’re worried that he’s going to break your neck.

                Ivan glances up at Sergei, looking at him with raised eyebrows.  “Hm, what do I want?  Well, I want you to let that little sunflower go.  I also want you to take your sister home and tend to her wounds.  Oh, and if you don’t, then I think that I very much want to test my pipe out on you,” Ivan responds, smirking evilly and swinging his pipe toward Sergei, stopping at the last second and holding the end up the pipe right under his chin.

                Sergei is steaming mad and he looks from Ivan to Nastya, trying to decide.  Finally, he gives in and shoves you away, running to pick up Nastya and then carrying her off into the night as quickly as he can.  “Burn in Hell, bastard!” he shouts over his shoulder as he runs.

                Ivan chuckles darkly and then turns his attention back to you.  The sudden momentum and lack of oxygen coupled with an adrenaline burst has left you feeling weak and tired and you stagger forward.  Ivan reaches an arm out and catches you, pulling you in toward him.  You blink your eyes a few times and force your vision to focus as you look up at Ivan.  You give him a weak smile and say,” Thank you for saving me.”

                “It is no problem, sunflower,” he responds with a smile.  His hair hangs down over his forehead and almost covers his stunning violet eyes.

                “Is Nastya really alright,” you ask him after a few moments of silence.

                He chuckles.  “She will be fine.  She has a hard head, so my attack didn’t do much damage,” he says and it seems to you that the air around him has grown darker.

                “U-um, Ivan?  Are you alright?” you ask him nervously.

                He seems to snap out of it and smiles brightly down at you again.  “Of course.  Now, let’s get you home where it’s warm, da?”

                You nod sleepily and allow him to lead you down the street.  Neither of you really talk on the way, but his company is oddly comforting.  You tell him where to turn and eventually you both make it back to your apartment complex.  He walks you to your door and you open it, lingering in the doorway.

                “U-um, would you like to come in for some hot chocolate?” you ask him nervously and hopefully.

                He smiles at you and says,” Da, that would be good.”

                You smile back at him and step aside to let him in.  You move to the kitchen and put on a pot with milk in it to heat up before going back into the living room and peeling layers of clothing off.  You hang up your coat and put your boots into the closet before turning to Ivan.  “You’re welcome to take your coat off, “you tell him.

                “Thank you,” he responds, but makes no move to remove his coat or scarf.

                You shrug internally and go back to the kitchen to check on the milk.  It is nice and warm now, so you mix the chocolate in and pour the liquid into a couple of mugs.  You carefully carry both mugs into the living room and hand one to Ivan before sitting down next to him on the sofa.  You take a sip of the sweet liquid and smile to yourself.  Hot chocolate is one of the best things ever invented!

                You look up to see Ivan watching you with a smile on his face and you set your mug down on the coffee table.  “What?  Is there something on my face?” you ask him half-jokingly.

                He shakes his head, still smiling.  “No,” he responds.

                You smile too, not knowing why you’re smiling.  “What is it, then?” you ask him.

                “You are quite beautiful, (y/n),” he tells you.  You feel yourself blushing.

                “T-thank you, Ivan,” you respond nervously, looking down at your hands.

                Ivan chuckles beside you and says,” Can I show you something?”

                “Sure.  What is it?” you respond, still not looking at him.

                “No, you have to look at it,” he says a little childishly, so you look up at him.

                And your lips meet his.  Without thinking, you respond and move your mouth against his.  His lips are soft and warm and he tastes of chocolate.  You smile a little against his mouth as you pull away.

                “What was that for?” you ask him, your cheeks blazing.

                “Oh, I just wanted to, “he responds simply.  “You’re such a beautiful little sunflower that I wanted you to be my sunflower.”

                You smile and look up at him through your eyelashes.  “I’d like that,” you tell him quietly.

                He beams down at you and takes a sip of his hot chocolate.  “That is good, da!” he says happily.

                “Da,”  you respond softly, leaning against him a little, enjoying the warmth of the hot chocolate and the warmth in your heart.