#fem!frussia

[russiantapo4ek]

Russian wife ❄️🪆(commission)

[coralcatsea]

[se-fyz]

“нам судьбой суждено встретиться снова в одном из февральских дней.

Делаю ставку на тридцать первое.” И. Бродский

[imakemywings]

For the fem!slash thing Nyo!Frussia who meet bc they were stood up on a double date by their shitty now ex boyfriends Arthur & Alfred.

((I’m all over it anon!))

It was two hours before Marianne decided Arthur wasn’t going to show. That absolutely prick. They’d been fighting recently (okay, more than usual, for clarification), but she couldn’t believe he’d stand her up. Even after the nasty things she’d said to him last time she saw him (He had the nerve to call her a whore after she’d fucked him!). Then again, she hadn’t hesitated to rip him apart for whichever transgression he’d committed last; she forgot. There was such a long list.

Even Marianne had to acknowledge their relationship was far from healthy.

But still! Standing her up! The nerve!

She muttered something unkind in French and downed the rest of her drink before sliding off the bar stool. Maybe she’d go freshen up and find someone else to fuck, if he was going to be that way. She had to pick up Anya too; the woman had vanished from her side some time ago, while Marianne continued to stare resentfully at the door, empty of Arthur. Speaking of Anya, there had been no sign of her date either.

On her way to the restroom, she dialed his number. It went right to voicemail. The coward, she thought viciously. He was purposefully ignoring her, like he always did after their fights.

“We’re through,” she said simply when the beep had sounded. “This is the last time, Arthur. It’s over. Au revoir. Va faire te foutre*.” She shoved her phone back into her purse as she pushed the door to the ladies’ room open. It was mostly empty, but for one occupied stall and one woman slouched against the wall by the sinks, trying to muffle her weeping.

The woman was tall, with straight, silvery blonde hair that reached her waist. She had a thick-set figure and she’d gone a bit heavy on the mascara, which was now running down her cheeks.

“Anya, they’re not—” She cut herself off as she took in Anya’s sorrowful state. “Anya? Oh, don’t cry, Anya, dear,” she said in distress, going over to clasp Anya’s hands. “They’re not worth it, they’re really not. I did expect better from Alfred, but he’s a moron when it comes to people. Come on now, let’s clean up and we’ll go have lots of fun without them!”

“Arthur is not coming either?” she asked in a husky voice, her French accented by Russian.

“That little shit.” It was a mark of how annoyed Marianne was that she’d use such language; normally she never swore. “I broke it off with him.”

“Again?”

“For real this time!” Marianne emphasized. “I’m sick of dealing with what we have going on and the sex just isn’t worth it anymore.” There was the crinkle of fake leather from Anya’s tall black boots as she shifted her feet. “But the night isn’t lost! We can still save it.” She let go of Anya’s hands and turned her attention to the sparsely lit mirror.

“He was the first real boyfriend I had,” Anya said miserably as Marianne carefully applied another layer of dark red lipstick, popping her kissable lips in the mirror. There was another pause, punctuated by barely audible hiccups from the Russian and the sound of the toilet flushing as someone emerged from the occupied stall.

”I know,” Marianne said gently. “I’m sorry, Anya. I’m sorry it was such a disappointment.” Both Anya and Alfred were so romantically challenged and awkward everyone had cheered when they finally got together. Sadly, it had imploded in on itself like a dying star from Alfred’s research projects.

Anya got a grip on herself and set her purse down to splash some cool water on her face.

“Let’s clean you up a bit,” Marianne said, grabbing a paper towel and wiping away the stains from Anya’s mascara. “Now we are going to have a good time and forget about those two idiots, alright?” She began to re-apply Anya’s mascara for her. 

“Can we still dance?” Anya asked hopefully.

“Of course we can!” Marianne said brightly, taking out some blush to brush over Anya’s pale cheeks. “We’ll dance together! We don’t need the boys to have fun.”

“It will be like a date with the two of us,” Anya giggled, starting to smile a little. A stray hiccup escaped, but otherwise she seemed to be past crying.

“Yes, like that,” she agreed with a smile of her own, patting Anya’s cheek and putting her make-up away. “Ready to go?” Anya nodded. “Allons-y!” She took Anya’s hand and led her back out into the bar. They drank and danced together until they were both tired out, and Anya wondered perhaps, if Marianne fit better in her arms than she had in Alfred’s. 

((*go fuck yourself))

[francisbonnefoydefensesquad-blog]

****

[lithuanias]

姉さん組