#alexei braginsky

[spaceflower07]

rusame's oldest son alexei

[snifekinner]

The Body Politic (2474 words) by snifekin Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hetalia (Anime & Manga) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Russia (Hetalia) Summary: A new aide takes over the care of the National Body of the Russian Federation. Alexei learns what his job involves - being the close assistant of Ivan Braginsky is less about keeping him secured, far more about keeping him functioning.

[i-have-dots-in-my-brain]

HETALIA NEIGHBORHOOD AU :)

I WANNA EXPAND ON THIS YES

alfred has been chased by the cops for 1: settign the forest on fire several times and 2: using a lawnmower to travel on the open roads.

francis and arthur have a rivalry where whey see who can roast each other better. they stick their heads out of their oppsoing windows and point out the other's flaws, they'vre gotten so many noise complaints for this lol)

the only way that the neighborhood knows that kiku is still alive is that every week yao drops off some fresh groceries at his door and immediately an arm pushes the door open, grabs the groceries and then dissapears back into the void.

yao orgsnises like all of events and cooks for all of them.

roderick is playing his piano at like 3 am just to freak out gilbert and alfred.

gilbert helps decorate for like all the events.

arthur has a massive garden of flowers and francis keeps stealing his roses.

alfred is one of the only neighbors that go into ivan's house and come out alive.

ivan is the chillest neighbor and will tell the neighborhood kids fairytales if they hsve the guts to talk to him (the kids who have experienced this arent scared of him anymore)

ludwig's crazy dogs are actually pretty chill.

feliciano makes a pizza for every new neighbor who moves in.

romano grows tomatos and will beat you with a broom if you steal any one of them.

alfred likes to feed the birds.

we're pretty sure alfred hasn't committed any federal crimes.

matthew lives next to kiku and just has a polar bear that the neighborhood just accepted.

matthew has ridden a moose home don't ask questions.

alfred and matthew are like the cool uncles of halloween .

matthew's house is the place you want to go to if you wanna talk about feelings.

jack just calmly takes his tarantula on a walk sometimes.

SHIP NOTES : RUSAME, FRUK, PRUCAN, SUFIN, GERITA

alfred and ivan live in the same house and have a sign on the door that says ivan and al's house :)

alfred and ivan just walked out their house with wedding rings on their fingers and the neighborhood has learned not to ask questions about that.

whenever arthur has a party francis cooks.

sweden and finland's is the house universally known as the Clubhouse bc's of all of the playdates sealand has had there (sealand's their adopted kid)

ludwig and feliciano (married) live together and the neighborhood kids comeover for feliciano's pizza and to pet ludwig's dogs.

gilbert and matthew live together and hold a sledding race during the winter together. matthew almost always wins (sweden)

KIDS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD INCLUDE :

alaska (alexei) and hawaii (alana) (human names ) rusame kids (go by nicknames : alex and lana)

peter (sealand) (sufin)

emil (iceland) (sufin)

monica (gerita kid)

YAO'S LITTLE SIBLINGS/ COUSINS:

leon wang (hk)

macau (chen wang)

 Lien wang (Nguyen)

FULL NAMES :

arthur kirkland

francis bonneyfoy

yao wang

kiku honda (wang) (little brother to yao)

Berwald Oxenstierna (sweden)

Tino Väinämöinen (finland)

gilbert beilschimidt

ludwig vargas (beilschimidt) (bros with gilbert lol)

feliciano vargas

romano vargas

matthew williams

ivan braginski jones

alfred f braginski jones

roderich edelstein?? (not sure if thats his last name)

[shepherd-of-the-stars]

To Kill a King

Part 1

Word count:  2,216

Summary: Cardverse!AU. Ivan becomes the new King of Spades. Alfred wishes to take his place.

Rating: M (for violence) 

Warnings: (eventual) major character death, attempted murder, no happy ending!!!

For @kitaychan 

~~.~~

More than anything, Alfred wished there was a word to describe this feeling he had for Ivan.

It was a strong and overwhelming feeling. One that made him freeze in his spot each time he laid eyes on the man's face. A feeling that ignited and spread like flames through his entire body. Made him spit out words that were never meant to be said. It had his heart pounding, his blood rushing, his fists clenched, and his teeth gritted. 

What was the word? 

Oh, what was the word… 

Ah. 

Loathing.

But no, it couldn't be that word. Loathing was so… one note. It was more than hatred. More than annoyance and revulsion and disgust and— Would he admit it? Perhaps just this once. 

Jealousy. 

This feeling that he felt was all of those others packed tightly inside Alfred's bitter, resentful soul. Hidden. Buried deep under layers and layers of false smiles and forced laughter. If it had been anyone else, Alfred would have used everything in his power to get rid of the man, but Ivan was leagues above him. 

Ivan Braginsky—Fourth Prince of Clovers—Husband to Queen Alice and King Consort of the Kingdom of Spades. 

He was untouchable. To cross him would be to cross not one, but two kingdoms. That fact alone only served to make Alfred’s disdain towards him grow tenfold. All this power simply because he was born into the right family at the right time, and what did Alfred have? Nothing.

Nothing, he says. 

Alfred Jones had more than most people in the land did. 

Ivan may have been the king, but Alfred was the Lord Chancellor. Second most powerful man in the kingdom, but Alfred was never a man to settle for second best. He wanted it all. He didn’t want his power to be recognized only by those who knew the ways of the kingdom. In the eyes of the citizens, Ivan was the ruler of the lands—the man who made the decisions—and Alfred did not exist. 

What made matters worse was that Alfred could have been king. When the former king passed and Princess Alice sought a husband, Alfred had been one of the many to vie for her hand. He had so much to offer—his land, his wealth, his knowledge of the kingdom—but King Alexei swept away all the competition with his promise of an alliance with the Kingdom of Clovers through the marriage of one of his six sons. 

His son, Prince Ivan, had an entire kingdom behind him; in comparison, what Alfred had was nothing. 

So began Alfred’s plan to take it all. 

It was simple, because there were only two things that needed to happen. One, for Alfred to marry the queen, and two, for Ivan to die. 

After that, everything would fall into place. Alfred had been Lord Chancellor during the reign of the late king as well, and he knew for a fact that the nobles would accept him far quicker than they would a foreign king like Ivan. And Alice, oh, Alice would be handed from one loveless marriage to another. But for a woman born in the noble class, her life was never meant to be one destined for love. At the very least, if she was married to Alfred, she would have someone who knew the land well enough to rule it well. Ivan was an outsider. 

Alfred would be doing the entire kingdom a favor getting rid of him. No one would miss him. Not even his family who traded him away like livestock. 

The fourth prince. He was nothing but a spare. 

Alfred almost pitied the man. Just almost. Not enough to hesitate when he strategized how to kill him. The options were endless, because it didn’t matter if Ivan was a prince or a king; he was still human. It would have been so much easier to simply hire an assassin, but this was personal. Alfred knew that Ivan’s blood needed to be on his own hands. 

The guilt of his death must be his alone to bear.

~.~

Alfred's first attempt on Ivan's life was in spring. 

It would be a hunting accident. The dirt would be slick from the morning rain, the trees too dense to see clearly through, and Ivan’s clothing too similar a shade to the color of bark for Alfred to tell the difference. One arrow through the heart and the job would be done. 

For the hunt, Alfred requested for it just to be the two of them. No servants, no guards, and most importantly, no witnesses. “So when either of us comes back without a single prize, there will be no shame,” he had laughed. And Ivan agreed. Alfred was the Lord Chancellor—a man these people knew and trusted to be good—and Ivan was an utter fool for believing the same. 

Alfred may have been ready to kill a man, but he was not heartless. He loved this kingdom with every fiber of his being and wanted nothing more than to watch it prosper and grow. But something like that couldn’t be done when a foreign king sat on the throne. Ivan had yet to show any ill will towards Spades, but Alfred vowed to rid of him before he even got the chance. 

“Wonderful weather for a hunt, isn’t it, Your Majesty?” They rode side by side on their horses through a weathered path in the woods. Alfred turned towards Ivan just in time to hear the king reply with a simple grunt as he tilted his head towards the sky and breathed in the forest air, still crisp from the morning rain. 

The king's eyes were closed and his neck exposed. Images flashed through Alfred's head of his death. He could unsheathe his sword right now and hack his head off with one swing. But it was too risky. The blood would be on Alfred's sword—on his clothes—and Ivan could turn to him the second he heard the ring of steel. Alfred had a plan, and he intended to stick to it. It didn’t matter how much Ivan angered him simply by existing, or how much his hand itched to wrap around his throat, he would have to wait. 

Patience was key. 

“It’s been a few months since you’ve moved here,” he said, trying once more to start a conversation to calm the nerves he claimed didn’t exist. “How are you liking it in Spades? I imagine it’s a lot different from your birthplace.” Clovers. Cold, dark, and barbaric. Breeding grounds for men like Ivan who hid their malice behind smiles. 

Smiles like the one Ivan wore now—the same smile he wore every second of the day since he had arrived. And the same smile that made Alfred want to slam his fist into until he had nothing left to smile about. 

It had taken a moment for Ivan to answer; long enough for Alfred to suspect that the king had fallen asleep atop his horse. But at last, he breathed out a sigh and reopened those abnormal violet eyes to look over to Alfred. 

“Different,” he said, and after a pause, “but I like it here. It is starting to feel like home.”

Those words felt like a knife to his stomach. What did he mean “starting to feel like home”? To Alfred, it was all the evidence he needed to confirm that Ivan had plans to tamper with his home until it became as cold and heartless as the kingdom this wretched king crawled out of. Alfred would not let that happen. Not while he still breathed. 

“Well, a king needs to know his country. What better way to learn than to experience it yourself?” On impulse, he reached out and clasped his hand on Ivan’s shoulder, taking pleasure in the way the king seemed to flinch from his touch. “Let us split up. I know from experience that you learn better when you are lost. If you need anything, just give a shout, Your Majesty.” 

Without giving him a chance to object or even respond, Alfred gave a shout and kicked his horse into a run. Unlike Ivan, he knew these lands well, and he knew that the foreign king would be too intimidated by the maze of trees and rock to attempt to stray from the path. It was the perfect opportunity. 

Alfred weaved his horse through the trees until he reached a low cliff overlooking the path. His horse had been tied to a tree to keep Alfred from being exposed, and Alfred lay flat on his stomach with his crossbow loaded—aimed at the path. 

Then he waited. 

And he waited and waited until at last he heard the sound of hooves in the dirt. 

For a hunt, Ivan sure liked to take his time. The foolish king must have forgotten that this was a hunt, not a leisurely ride in the woods. Docile, Alfred noted in his head. Ivan just wasn’t fit for the throne. Being king required more than royal blood. A king needed strength and determination, and Alfred summoned all of his as he anxiously swept his tongue across his lips and adjusted his grip on the handle. 

Taking in a silent breath, he aimed his arrow at Ivan’s heart. He would only get one chance. If he missed, Ivan would shout, the horse would panic, he would have to formulate another plan. He couldn’t miss. 

Don’t miss. 

The kingdom depended on it. 

Don’t miss. 

Don’t miss. 

His fingers grew cold, heart hammering. Ivan was riding slow. It would be an easy shot. 

But what if he missed? 

No. 

Biting down on his tongue, he aimed at his back, and fired. 

The twang of his crossbow sounded louder than a rifle in his mind. 

Ivan shouted in pain, and his horse bellowed in shock as its rider tugged harshly on the reins. 

Alfred felt like he had gone blind for a moment, but when he saw again, he saw Ivan clutching the arrow lodged in his chest as he struggled to stay mounted on his horse. Pain was written clearly on his face, but he was still alive. 

Alfred had missed. 

Whispering a curse, he bolted towards his horse—hearing nothing but his thundering heart and his heavy breathing. His fingers failed him several times as he tried untying his horse from the tree, but when he finally mounted his steed, his fingers were locked on the reins as he sped away farther into the forest. 

He looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Ivan racing towards him to get his revenge, but behind him, there was nothing but trees, and he heard nothing but hoofbeats and the birds above. 

Ivan had not called for help. 

Why hadn’t he? He was injured. He risked death. He knew Alfred was the only one who could save him. 

Which meant that Ivan knew who had fired that arrow. 

He wrenched his horse to a stop and prayed that Ivan didn’t hear its protests. Then he turned back, took five steps, then stopped once more. 

If it had been an accident, Alfred would have been at his side immediately to apologize. But it had already been too long for it to be an accident. He should have gone back. He should have come up with a plan if he had missed. But Alfred had not intended to miss. 

He brought his hand to his lips and chewed on the nail of his thumb. He needed to go back. 

Two steps forward. 

But this would work too. Ivan would bleed out. He didn’t know the forest. He would get lost. And he would bleed out. 

Two steps back. 

He tugged on the reins, and headed back towards the castle. 

The guards looked at him in confusion when he returned without the king at his side, but Alfred simply clutched his stomach and said, “His Majesty wishes to continue the hunt. I’m sorry I can’t join him but I think my morning meal is disagreeing with me.” He laughed, and the guards laughed with him. With how pale Alfred had gone, it was easy for them to believe. 

It wasn’t until Alfred was halfway across the field did it occur to him that Ivan knew the path. 

His breathing stopped as he snapped his head back to look at the opening in the trees. It was empty, but any moment now, Ivan could reappear. 

A second time, he was too late. If he went back into the forest to finish the job, everyone would know that it was him. He would be hanged for treason. Or worse.

A guard caught his eye and raised his hand in greeting. 

Alfred forced a smile and mimicked him. It was over. 

He turned back around and rode slowly back to the castle. There was nothing left for him to do now except pray that Ivan died before he returned to the camp. 

That night, he couldn’t sleep. He waited anxiously for news of the king, but none came. 

When he walked the castle halls the next morning, his heart stopped to see Ivan in his path. And he smiled that same smile, but now, he looked at him with eyes that burned deep into his soul. 

Ivan knew.

[mychemicalnations]

Helena

//this is just a little drabble I did using two of my hetalia OCs - Alexander Edelstein and Alexei Braginski. Why? Because I got bored, that's why. Dedicated to @auspicious-osculator //

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alexander asked shakily, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Alexei nodded and placed a gentle hand on Alexander's knee.

"Yes, I'm sure," He spoke softly. "We've been together for three years now. Why wouldn't I want to meet your mother?" Alexander's gaze flicked over to Alexei before returning to the road. He didn't speak for a while, leaving only the hum of the car engine and the sound of tires over tarmac to fill the silence between them. Finally, Alexander nodded.

"Okay..." He said quietly, trying hard to choke back tears as he pulled over next to the cemetery. It took Alexei a few moments to process, but between the quiet tears and Alexander exiting the car, it wasn't difficult to read the situation. Alexei undid his seatbelt and followed Alexander. They walked in silence until they came upon a grave with a simple headstone that read "Helena Hartmann-Edelstein; A beautiful soul taken far too soon. May she forever rest peacefully." Alexander knelt down in front of it, pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. "...Here she is..." Against the headstone rested a framed photograph of a lovely woman and her family, all smiling brightly. Alexander picked it up gently and handed it to Alexei. Upon seeing it up close, Alexei saw that the woman - however lovely she was with her long raven hair, bright green eyes, and sweet, loving smile - looked frail. She sat in a hospital bed, tubes and wires hooking her up to machines that were working to keep her alive, and yet she still smiled and wrapped her thin, weak arms around her children. Sighing, Alexander stood up.

"She's pretty..." Alexei stood beside Alexander, carefully looking over the photograph. Alexander nodded, smiling weakly.

"It's been a while since I've visited her..." He sighed again. "I miss her." Alexei knelt down an carefully placed the photograph back.

"Hello, Mrs.Edelstein. It's nice to finally meet you." Alexei smiles softly. "Xander's told me so much about you." Alexander watched, tears flooding his eyes again.

"Lex?" He questioned, hardly loud enough for him to hear himself.

"I heard you love drawing and painting. Xander must get that from you. You should see some of his pieces! Our art teacher keeps trying to convince him to submit them to the student exhibit at the gallery, but Xander never thinks they're good enough." Alexei laughed slightly, resting his head in his hand. "Maria's doing well, too. She recently got the lead role in our school play, and she got chosen for a solo with her dance company! You must be so proud of your children." He stayed there, talking to Alexander's mother, for a good hour or so. Alexander stood back, part way between smiling happily and crying hysterically.

"Well, it was really nice to talk to you, ma'am. Before I go, I just wanted to say thank you. Your son means the world to me, and it feels wrong not to thank the woman that gave him life. You've raised such a wonderful young man..." This was the last straw for Alexander. He fell to his knees and began sobbing grossly into his hands. Alexei glanced over his shoulder and then back to the grave. "I promise I'll take care of him and treat him well." He mimicked Alexander's earlier action of pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the headstone. Then, he stood and walked back to Alexander, carefully helping him up. Alexander sobbed into Alexei's chest, clinging to him tightly. Slowly and gently, Alexei lead him back to the car. Once he was able to stop the tears, Alexander looked up.

"S-sorry..." He sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "I wasn't prepared for the emotional impact of this visit..."

"It's fine, luchik." Alexei said softly. "I'm glad I finally got to meet your mother."

"I think she was glad to meet you, too." Alexander smiled weakly. "we should get home..."

"We should... I'll drive." Alexei smiled and kissed the top of Alexander's head, causing him to blush slightly.

"Alright." Alexander smiled and climbed into the passenger seat. He looked over as Alexei was adjusting the driver's seat and rearview mirror. "...I love you, Lex."

"I love you, too, Xander." Alexei looked back, smiling warmly.

//Welp there ya go. Hope you liked it!//

[42wallaby-way-sydney]

snippet of a ficlet

Domestic au where the mafia find they’re oddly? okay? with babies?

Really I just had these scenes in my head earlier at work and just had to write them out. And of course it’s like 2-4 am as I’m writing this junk so it’s probably horrid but I kind of don’t even care. Have some tooth rotting fluff with some of my ocs because honestly there’s just something super fun about all these mafia people who aren’t afraid to snap someone’s neck and get bloody and nasty but then can turn around half a second later and be the most caring wives/husbands/parents.

Valery and Liliya

2006 Manhattan, New York

Valery stares at his wife, watches as she coos at their newborn as she cradles their son.

“He looks just like you, Lila,” Valery whispers in English, moving to sit beside her legs on the small hospital bed.

Liliya looks up at him and for a moment Valery has a flash of worry as he sees tears in the corners of her eyes. He’s about to ask if she’s hurt, about to jump to his feet and yell for a nurse, but Liliya speaks first.

“I love him so much, Valera,” she says softly in tone that Valery had very rarely heard her use before. She touches the newborn’s cheek softly, trailing her finger tip across his cheek up to his head to adjust the little blue hat. “I…” she trails off, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth for a few moments, clearly searching for the proper words. “I did not think that I could ever love someone more than you,” she finally says, looking up at her husband in wonder.

Valery can’t help but laugh softly at that. Then reaches and squeezes her knee gently. “I feel the same way, ангел.”

He looks at their son with pride bubbling in his heart. He wants to take his newborn son and show him off to everyone. If he’s completely honest, he never thought he’d love anyone until meeting Liliya. And then the way he sees her looking at their son only makes the love he feels for her grow. And the pride he feels for son is a new feeling all together.

Neither he nor Liliya cared for children and when she had learned she was pregnant both had been worried. They weren’t exactly the parental type. But now as they sat in the hospital bed with their child, they couldn’t believe just how happy they were. It was such an odd thing for either to wrap their heads around.

The two of them.

Parents.

They were going to go home, to a new apartment in a new country, with their newborn son.

Liliya began humming softly, an old lullaby that Valery could just barely remember his mama singing to him when he was very young, and it makes him smile all the more.

“He needs a name, Lila,” Valery whispers as he sees their baby yawning.

Liliya hums in thought as she rocks their son gently. “Any ideas, дорогой?”

Valery frowns now for the first time in an hour as he runs a thousand names over in his mind. They’d been trying for months to pick a name and every single time they disagreed. “Igor?” His wife wrinkles her nose, eyes narrowing. So he shakes his head. “You are right. No for that. Hm… Nikolai?”

“Try again.”

Valery rolls his eyes. At times, Liliya can be very picky and even more demanding. “Well I am out of ideas, ангел. You pick something, Lila.”

The woman makes another face, this time sticking her tongue out at her husband. Then hums softly once more. The baby is beginning to really fall asleep now. It warms her heart in so new a way.

“Luka?” Valery asks.

Liliya frowns and Valery is sure that she’s going to tell him to pick something else. When much to his surprise she says the name to herself softly before nodding. “I like that.” She looks down at their son, their little Luka. “Hello, Luka, душенька.”

Sergei and Vera

2010 Hell’s Kitchen, New York

A baby’s soft cries fill the once quiet hospital room and Sergei quickly beings trying to hush his newborn daughter. Vera is half asleep on the hospital bed and she looks exhausted. Understandably so considering she had just given birth not too long ago.

The blonde woman groans softly as she sits up straighter. She loves her little girl, she really does and that’s surprising to her, but she’s very unsure if she can actually handle a baby. If she can take care of a child when she often times finds herself struggling with herself. Having a baby had never been in her plans. But as she looks at Sergei and their child, she can’t help but wonder how their lives are going to be now.

“Do you want me to take her?” Vera asks worriedly. That’s a new feeling for her, actually caring and worried about someone else. She stares at her daughter and feels a pang of worry at the very thought of holding her.

She’s so small. Fragile looking. And Vera, she knows she isn’t exactly gentle and so worries that she could possibly hurt her baby. While Sergei on the other hand looks perfectly at ease holding the newborn.

Sergei smiles softly and shakes his head. “No. She’s fine. I’ve got her. You sleep, голубка.”

He looks down at the baby and sees the baby flailing slightly and looking sleepy. It makes him smile. The newborn has hair that’s only a few shades darker than Vera’s own dirty blonde. Sergei wonders if her bright blue eyes are going to eventually turn out looking more like his or more like her mother’s.

Vera rolls her eyes at him, thinking he’s ridiculous with the amount of pet names he’s constantly giving her. But she won’t deny that she likes it. It makes her feel special. Loved really.

But she takes his advice and lies back, attempts to get comfortable, and lets her eyes shut as she focuses on his coos to their now sniffling baby. “She needs a name,” Vera says, a large yawn escaping.

“We’ll give her a name once you’ve had some rest, alright?”

The only answer he receives is a hum.

Sergei watches his girlfriend fall asleep, a small smile on his face. Vera could be stubborn, annoying so, but he loved her none the less. And loved watching her fall asleep. Being with Vera was different than when he’d been living in Russia and in a serious relationship with a woman, Yelizaveta. He’d had a daughter with her, Nastal, a daughter who he hadn’t seen since she was a year old.

He’d had no part in Nastya’s life, something he’d regretted for the last nine years, and he wouldn’t miss out on his newborn child’s.

Being with Vera gives him faith, and that makes him nearly laugh right there, and hope for the future.

And suddenly Sergei knows just what to name their little girl.

Nadezhda, their little Nadya.

Alex and Anatoly

2012 Hell’s Kitchen, New York

“Papa loves you so much. I do, Annushka,” Anatoly coos in Russian to his newborn baby. The baby just blinks, yawns widely, and turns their face towards his chest. It makes Anatoly grin. “You look just like your mama.”

He’s so busy whispering to the baby that he doesn’t notice his wife stirring awake. And Alex takes this as her chance to watch her husband interact with their baby. She can’t understand a good percent of what he’s saying but his tone, full of love and adoration, make her understand more than enough.

He looks at their baby with love pouring from his very being. He’s so proud to be a father, it’s clear for anyone to see and it makes Alex smile.

“Papa is never going to leave you, I promise.” Anatoly gently wraps the cotton candy pink blanket even tighter around the baby. And holds the newborn closer and presses a kiss to the deep brown fluffy hair on top of their head as he sees the baby beginning to fall asleep.

Alex picks now to yawn loudly, yawn only slightly exaggerated to let her husband know that she’s awake. “What nonsense are you telling that poor baby, Tolenka?” She asks softly so as not to wake the baby.

Instantly Anatoly is turning and quickly walking over to her. “Are you alright?” He asks, accent thicker.

It makes Alex grin. His accent always seemed more prominent after speaking his first language.

“Did I wake you? Are you hurt? Do you need any-”

She cuts him by holding her index finger to her lips, a silent ‘shh be quiet’ motion that makes him quickly fall silent.

“Hush, Tolenka. I’m fine,” she promises, slowly sitting up in the uncomfortable bed. “How’s the baby?”

Anatoly grins once more, beaming brightly in happiness as he slowly sits beside her so that she can see their child’s sleeping face. “Sleeping, звезда моя.” He frowns at her now. “Like you should be. You look exhausted.”

Alex rolls her eyes and waves his concern away. “Hush, Anatoly. I want to hold my child. Why don’t you go get a snack? Bring me back something if you don’t mind?” It’s more of a statement that she phrases to sound like a question but Anatoly understands. She wants to hold their baby and wants him to stop hovering over her like he’d been doing the past nine months.

So he hands over the sleeping newborn and presses a quick kiss to his wife’s forehead and slowly leaves the room.

He runs into Vladimir in the hospital’s cafeteria. The blonde is playing on his phone with one hand, holding a sandwich in the other. But the moment he spots his elder brother Vladimir is shoving the last few bites of his sandwich into his mouth and phone into his pocket as he walks over to his brother.

“How’s Alex? And the baby? I can’t believe you left the room,” Vladimir teases lightly, words falling in a rush and in Russian. He’s worried and nervous for his sister in law and newborn niece.

Anatoly makes a face but grins all the same as they walk over to the vending machines. “They’re both fine. Anya is sleeping. Alex didn’t look too far behind. She practically kicked me from the room. I think she’s tired of my worrying.” He pushes a few quarters into the machine, taps the buttons, and waits.

Vladimir nods in understanding. “Can’t blame her. You worry too much, big brother of mine.” He laughs when Anatoly lightly punches him in the shoulder. “Mm, so when do I get to hold the baby?”

“Soon,” Anatoly says, picking up the water and bag of chips. He flashes a grin to his brother, nudges their shoulders together. “I promise. I’m going to go check back on Alex. I’ll see you later?” Vladimir nods and rolls his eyes as his brother leaves before even waiting for an answer.

When Anatoly enters the hospital room once more he places the water and chips on the nightstand before fishing his phone from his pocket and snapping a picture of his dozing wife and baby. Hair a mess and clearly exhausted, Anatoly thinks she looks beautiful.

Matt and Valdimir

2018 Kazan, Tatarstan

“Sälam.” A very young toddler says, waving her hand before ducking back behind the social worker’s leg. She’s shy, just barely two years old, and these new people in front of her, staring at her, make her uncomfortable. She’d rather go back and play with the other children. But the adults seem fairly keen on keeping her with them.

She ignores as the social workers try to nudge her to go to the new people, two men. One was brunette, the other blonde.

“Isanmesaz. Helleregez nischek?” Vladimir asks, words spilling and sounding terrible to his own ears. He doesn’t think he’s pronounced them correctly at all and judging by the looks he’s receiving from the social workers, he’s guessed properly.

But it does the job of making the tiny toddler look out from behind the social worker. She takes one step away from the social worker, closer to him and Matt. Much to Matt’s pure joy.

This is all the encouragement Vladimir needs. He crouches down so that he’s nearly eye level to the child, and says slowly, “İsímím uh Vladimir. Uh, Papa,” he taps on his chest as he introduces himself. Then slowly points up to Matt. “Daddy.”

She starts speaking quickly, clapping her hands together loudly in her excitement. And Vladimir and Matt can’t understand her at all. But her joy is contagious and they both begin grinning at her. Matt slowly crouches down beside Vladimir, nervous and excited at finally meeting the two year old they’d been in the process of adopting for months now.

Natasha and Yelena stay to the side, Yelena recording them meeting the toddler while Natasha held a half asleep toddler of her own, her little girl Nika.

“Min sine yaratam,” Vladimir says clumsily, pointing to himself then to her.

She lets out a loud noise, squealing, nearly screaming really, mixed with a laugh as she rushes to them. Vladimir glances out of the corner of his eye to see Matt grinning widely and can’t help but feel happiness spread through his being. Seeing Matt happy always made him happy.

“İsímígíz niçík?” Vladimir asks, still trying to speak Tatar and failing horribly.

But again the young child claps her hands happily and she hops in spot as she proudly states, “İsímím Märyäm!” And then she begins speaking quicker and Vladimir is looking up at the social workers, completely lost. While the little girl holds up two fingers, seemingly telling them her age. She reaches out and hops, wanting to be picked up.

And since Matt was closer to her and dying to hold her, he quickly scooped her up, laughing out quietly, “What did she say?”

Vladimir makes a face but stood as well. “Said her name is Märyäm.”

Matt grins, hugs her tighter as she continues to babble away. “I love it. I think it’s pretty.”

Vladimir made a face, nose wrinkling and eyes narrowing slightly as he thought for a moment. Then he shrugged. “We will think of something better. Is ugly name. I do not like it.” He reaches over when he sees the two year old making grabbing hand motions at him now and Matt lets him take the child.

She has deep brown eyes and auburn hair that oddly enough matches Matt’s exact shade. She’s cute, Vladimir will give her that. But he’s still not sure about this adoption thing. Still not sure he and Matt are doing the right thing.

“Min sine yaratam,” the little girl says happily, grinning at him then looking back to Matt. “Min sine yaratam!” She claps her hands, does a little scream laugh once more, then rests her head on Vladimir’s shoulder.

Vladimir slowly hugs her, an odd feeling in his chest beginning to spread.

“What’d she say? She sounded happy?” Matt asked, confused but excited as he tries to make the new language stay with him.

Vladimir says nothing for a few moments, just pets over the little girl’s hair. Then finally, “She says she loves us.”

Piotr and Linda

2025 Hell’s Kitchen, New York

Piotr watches Linda swaddle their son in a light green baby blanket. She seems so good at it already. And he has a moment of self doubt. Of course he’d helped watch over his friends’ children. But Luka, Grisha, Nadya, Vasya, and Jack, oh they had all been young children or toddlers when he’d been babysitting them. Not fleshy little fragile newborns.

He knew he was good with children. That didn’t worry him. But the baby, well simply put, he was a baby. A very little baby at that. And Piotr didn’t know how to care for little babies.

“Do you wanna hold your son?” Linda asks, holding the baby in her arms and ready to hand him over the moment Piotr asks. She’s tired but happy.

But Piotr quickly shakes his head, eyes wide. “I can’t, Linda. He’s so small. What if I drop him? Or what if I break him? He looks very breakable. Or what if-”

Linda cuts him off with a laugh of, “And what if aliens attack New York again? Or, oh I know, this one is a good one! What if ninjas attack the hospital again?”

The Russian just stares at her, not finding her sense of humor all that funny.

But Linda just grins at him. “Piotr, honey, come hold your son and don’t worry so much, okay?”

Piotr looks nearly ready to listen to her, even takes steps closer to the bed until he’s sitting at the foot of it. Then shakes his head. “What if he doesn’t like me?” He asks softly, staring at Linda in worry.

The woman just smiles at him. “Well you won’t know until you hold him.”

“I don’t know how to hold babies, Linda.”

“Well no better time to learn than the present, hm? Come here.”

She gestures closer to herself, scoots over to make room for him next to her, and waits until he’s sitting back down before handing him the baby. The newborn lets out a small noise, gives a long yawn for a baby, and stares up at Piotr while Piotr stares right back at him. Linda leans her head against his shoulder and lets out a tired yawn of her own.

“I decided on a name for him, by the way.”

Piotr just hums softly as he tries to rock his son. He feels clumsy, isn’t sure he’s doing this right. But the baby isn’t crying so he figures he must be doing fine. He hopes so anyway.

“I like Peter. What do you think?” Linda asks, yawning once more and now fighting to stay awake.

Piotr shakes his head, a grin spreading over his face. “Peter Petrovich? Oh that’s horrible, Linda.”

Linda laughs softly, coos gently at the baby before covering her mouth as she yawns once more. “I like it. I, for one, vote on his name being Peter.” The newborn sneezes and lets out a small noise before falling silent once more and Linda nods. “Mhm, see, Peter here agrees with me.”

Piotr rolls his eyes but his grin never once fades. “I guess I’m being outnumbered then. Peter it is.”

His wife begins humming a lullaby, not lifting her head from his shoulder. And within minutes she’s fast asleep. Little Peter not too far along after her.

“Te quiero,” Piotr whispers the foreign words quietly, pressing a kiss to Linda’s hair and Linda smiles in her light sleep.

[hetaliawhatifs]

What would the allies name their son or daughter?

We’ve answered this before somewhere…but it twas’ forever ago. Sooo, we’ll do it again!!~Admin Sarah and JayOkay, also, we don’t want to offend anyone but Admins are actually having anxiety with naming China’s kids because we don’t want to be racist at all. Soo, hopefully we wrote it right and no one is offended. 

America:Son: Derek Jeter JonesDaughter: Skyler Grace Jones

England:Son: Edward Henry KirklandDaughter: Victoria Elizabeth Kirkland 

France:Son: André Philip Bonnefoy Daughter: Elise Fleur Bonnefoy 

Canada:Son: Nathan WilliamsDaughter: Charlotte Williams  

Ivan:Son: Nikolai Braginski Daughter: Alexei Braginski 

China:Son: Wang ChengDaughter: Wang Lian