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the-scribe-and-her-scribbles · 5 years ago

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Oh My God, They Were Roommates - Russia’s Route

Read the Intro Here!

This chapter is also posted on my Quotev here!

I’d first like to start by saying, Thanks so much for all the love and support so far. Please keep on liking and reblogging my stuff. And don’t be afraid to comment or talk with me. It makes my day when you guys say hi! Secondly, holy shit, this took forever. I started this on December 9th of 2019 and finished it May 16th! I was definitely working through some writer’s block. But this monster is 12 pages long! Ugh, I’m exhausted!

Characters: Russia, Reader, America (who's a real shithead in this, but really, do you expect anything less?), other characters

Warnings: some swearing but that’s it.

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The room went silent. No one spoke. Everyone looked around but no one raised their hand. Ivan sat in his chair and took a deep breath in through his nose. From the front of the room, the UN liaison looked at him pointedly.

“Wow! I can't believe I have to do this. Well then, Mr. Braginsky! Care to explain yourself to our audience?” The eyes of everyone in the room almost burst out of their heads. What the fuck? They all thought. They looked to Russia. His chest rose with a deep breath. He wanted to roll his eyes but held his blank stare.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Don’t even start! I know that you’ve been spending time with a human. At the ballet house in Moscow. You’ve met the same girl multiple times over the past month!”

Ivan’s eyes narrow at the human accusing him. “I’ve always gone to the ballet.”

“You deny it then?”

“I don’t even know what I’m denying!” He stated for a final time.

***

Ivan met (Y/n) at the ballet in Moscow. She was one of the lead costume designers of the theater. She traveled to Moscow from out of the country and had met Ivan when he wandered backstage at one of the shows. He always went to the ballet, and always visited with the dancers and ballet house owner, who he'd known for a while now.

Ivan had loved ballet since it came to his country. It was soft and gentle but passionate and fiery, a captivating combination. It reminded him of gentle snowfall or sunflower fields. Of the softness of a scarf gifted by a loved one. It brought back memories of the summer sun on his face.

He walked down the steps of the backstage area until he got to the basement, a place he didn't venture often. The room was huge and filled to the brim with stuff. One side was organized with only props and set pieces, the other half of the massive space was lined with costumes, wigs, rolls of richly dyed fabric and decorative beads and gems. It was far less organized. In the center of it all was a woman, sitting at a slanted desk surrounded by papers and soft fabrics. The light of a lamp on her large work area made a halo around her head.

“Well this is a surprise,” the girl's voice rang out. She turned on the stool where she was perched. “I don’t get very many visitors.” Her lips curled into a smile and she raised her eyebrow.

Ivan felt nervous. The spark in her eyes was bright and playful. People normally weren’t so at ease around him. “I’ve been to many ballet houses, I wanted to explore this one a little more thoroughly.”

"So you travel down into the dungeons." The woman wasn't Russian. She spoke good Russian, but her accent was terrible.

"You are the new costume designer, da?"

"Don't tell me, the accent gave me away,".

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, besides I heard about you from the dancers." Ivan chuckled.

“They do love to gossip,” She muttered back to him with a clever glint in her eyes. Ivan let out a bark of laughter at that.

His laughter died down in his chest. Sudden insecurity washed over Ivan. He should probably leave, she's busy. He's probably making her uncomfortable. "Well, I won't distract you any longer. I should probably go-"

“You can stay! I mean.. you said you wanted a tour.” The girl gave him another smile and Ivan knew that this was the type of person that nobody could say no to. She stood from the stool where she was perched and led him around the aisles and aisles of clothes.

“I never got your name.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry about that. I’m (Y/n) (L/n).”

“Ivan Braginski.”

Ivan and (Y/n) walked through the racks of costumes. “This one was from our showing of The Nutcracker last season.” Ivan looked at the red soldier jacket with brass buttons and gold details.

“This is beautiful! You made this?”

“Yep!” She said with a smile.

“Did you make all of these?!” (Y/n) let out a laugh that threw her head back. Heat rose to Ivan’s cheeks.

“Not all of them, I quite enjoy my social life. The rest of the costume department makes them too.” Oh. That makes more sense. The two had continued to stroll through the costumes. (Y/n) showed him some of the ballerinas’ outfits and where all the alterations were done.

Soon they had toured through most of the costume racks and as Ivan was about to say goodbye the seamstress said, “You know..” She looked at him again with that coy twinkle in her eyes. Ivan was starting to think that maybe her eyes were always like that. “...you’re welcome to visit me the next time you’re here.”

Ivan smiled. “I’d like that.” Warmth radiated through his chest, even as he walked out of the theater.

***

He looked around and saw that everyone was staring. Too pissed to deal with the idiots around him, Ivan pulled his long tan coat over his shoulders and left the room.

Ivan heard the door to the conference room close behind him and swore as he walked down the hall. After he met (Y/n) last month, he'd been extremely careful not to be seen out in public consistently. Most of their time together was spent at the theater. That's where she spent most of her days anyway. (Y/n) had been unable to find a permanent residence yet and had been mostly sleeping at the theater on a couch in her workspace or on any of her friends' couches or spare beds. Ivan had thought about asking her to move in with him. His house was quite big anyway. She would have plenty of room for her costume making.

However, he'd put off asking her. But now Ivan couldn't put it off anymore. After being confronted in front of everyone in that meeting, Russia didn't doubt that soon enough others would start snooping around in his private life. They wouldn't be able to help themselves. Especially Alfred F. Jones

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Ivan heard another pair of footprints following him down the hall. They started to speed up and Ivan spun around to face them. When Ivan looked, he saw exactly who he thought it would be.

“What do you want,” Ivan scowled at the blond.

"What was all that back there?" While the words leave his mouth are innocent on their own, the icy gleam of America's eyes told Ivan of his true meaning.

“I don’t like being accused of things I’ve never done,”

America’s mouth turned upwards into a wicked smirk. “Bullshit, I’ve known you for too long not to know when you’re lying. You know that woman! I’d bet my life on it.”

Ivan steps towards him. "You don't know anything about me." His accent saturated every syllable. Ivan turned and walked away, hiding his balled-up fists in the pockets of his long brown coat.

He exited the building, climbed into a taxi, and told the driver to take him to his hotel. Ivan leaned his head back against the seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought that he would be able to keep his friend and the rest of his life separate. That he could have one good thing in his life, if only for a little while. It seemed, however, that fate had other plans. The rest of his coworkers would want to find her and try to take her away.

His fingers pressed the dial button on his phone and Ivan listened to it ring.

“Hi Ivan! What’s up, did work get out early?” a woman’s voice said on the other end of the line.

“Da, we finished everything ahead of schedule. I was wondering, you still haven’t found a real place to stay, correct?”

“Nope, not yet. Why?”

***

“Ivan, you really don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly. I have plenty of room, you’ll have lots of space for costumes and alterations. There’s no point in a big house if I don’t use all of the space.”

“I can’t win, can I?”

“Nope! I am unbeatable!” He gave a cheery smile.

Living with Ivan was quite nice actually. (Y/n) thought that it was odd that he invited her to live with him on such short notice, but Ivan was an odd man. She learned 3 things about Ivan while at his house.

Firstly, (Y/n) learned that Ivan was not innocent like he wanted you to believe. He had a very dark sense of humor and was very sarcastic. She discovered this when she came home from a long and frustrating day at the theater. The lead actors were especially snobby that day, and she had made sure to say to Ivan where she thought they could stick their props when they were done with them.

Ivan had started laughing. Not one of his oddly forced giggles she’s seen him give when being especially intimidating. It was a real one. From his belly and quite unstoppable. It didn’t take long for (Y/n) to chuckle along with him.

Secondly, she learned that while Ivan appeared to be friendly, he was not. In fact, he didn't like many people. He didn't have many friends and didn't get along with any of his coworkers. Especially some American named Alfred.

Shortly after moving in, (Y/) overheard an argument over the phone. Ivan was speaking heatedly in Russian, and she could barely keep up with the curses he growled from the study. They would've made a sailor blush. When he hung up, the Russian man said something about "that dumb motherfucker" not being able to "mind his fucking business"

Against her better judgment, (Y/N) decided to open the door to ask what was wrong.

The third thing that she learned was that while Ivan hated almost everyone, he liked her. She had a feeling not many people could say that.

When (Y/n) peered in, Ivan was pacing back and forth in front of his desk. His eyes are narrowed and dark. His eyebrows are furrowed.

“Hey, is everything all right?” she asks.

Ivan's glare flicks over to her but before (Y/n) can feel scared, it melts from him.

"I apologize, little one. I didn't mean to scare you," he says, much softer than before.

“It’s alright, I have a feeling someone had it coming.”

He looked at her with an exasperated stare. “You have no idea.” Silence stretched between the two. As (Y/n) was about to excuse herself, Ivan interrupted. “Would you like to sit down with me?”

(It's hard to explain. For decades, Ivan felt so out of place, even in his own home. All alone, his house felt like a prison, and that he was the ghost that was forced to haunt it. He was so angry, so sad, so lonely. With her, he felt better. (Y/n) felt like a security blanket, a break from the cold. In his house and him. He wanted to sit with her, because when she was there, Ivan didn't heel so stiflingly alone.)

A smile flickers on her lips. Wordlessly, she made her way to a small couch with his and the paint sat next to one another.

“Do you have many friends?” Ivan asked her after they got settled. To be honest, (Y/n) hadn’t had a large group of friends since college. Her job made her work lots of long hours, and apart from her relationships with the rest of her costume department, she didn't have much time for interpersonal mingling. Not when she was racing towards deadlines and dress rehearsals.

She looked up at Ivan and gave a small smirk. “Who has the time?” Ivan nodded at that

“I’m pretty scary. I don’t mean to be, not all the time at least. But not many people tend to want around me anyway. I don’t have many friends either.” he says as he stairs that the pretty shade of her nailpolish.

"You have one," she said like it was obvious.

Ivan looked at the pretty woman beside him, puzzled. She rolled her eyes playfully. "You got me." Then (Y/n) lifted her legs and draped them across the platinum blond's legs. Ivan gave a smile as she longed there. Her comfort around him was endearing.

“I guess I do.” Saying that felt good.

***

Living together was an adjustment for both of them but mostly for Ivan. (Y/n) had had her fair share of roommates in college. It had been decades since Ivan had to share his home. Now evidence of his roommate was spread throughout the estate. (Y/n) had a coffee mug that said “today I will make things’ and a needle and thread on the side. It sat on the counter with an inch of leftover coffee. The 2nd edition of Costume Design 101 was on the coffee table in their living room along with her sketchbook and a pile of pens and pencils.

One of the spare bedrooms on the 2nd floor of the house had been completely taken over by (Y/n) to become her workspace. Rolls of fabric leaned against one of the tall wood bookcases. A dress form with a half-finished alteration project stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window.

This is where Ivan found his new roommate.

(Y/n) sat in the center of the room, on the floor with what Ivan guessed was the skirt of a gown draped from her lap. Off to the side of the room was her chair and desk, piled high with even more stuff.

"Can I ask you something? Why are you sitting on the hard floor when I've given you one of the most comfortable chairs in my house to sit on?"

(Y/n) looked up at him and smiled impishly.

"Because I wanted to be on the floor? I don't know,"

Ivan rolled his eyes and smiled down at her. "You're even shorter when you're like this,"

"Please, anyone is short if they’re being compared to you. You're like, 7 feet!"

"Does my height intimidate you?" Ivan shot back. (Y/n) looked at him with a straight face, before smirking.

"Quite the opposite, really." Then she winked

Ivan was forced to leave the room before he did something he would regret.

***

Alfred had a bad habit. He was always sticking his nose in other people's business. It's not that he was unaware of it. He just didn't care. If he was curious about something or he wanted something, it's not like anyone would be able to stop him. The world meeting was taking place in Moscow. Alfred couldn't resist a little espionage.

That was what was running through his head as he tailed a young woman. Admittedly, he’s been caught doing worse before. He followed behind her as she walked to a restaurant at the end of the block. (Y/n) (L/n) went to this dinner all the time.

She reached the door and entered, completely unaware of Alfred following behind her. There was one table left. Perfect, he thinks. He slipped his camera into its case and pushed the glass door open. The clink of cutlery and dished echoed through the establishment and the warm air tickled his chilled face. He waited as she took a seat and a waitress brought her a menu. He strolled over to where she was.

" 'Scuse me miss," he asked in English. He gave her his most convincing smile. "Would you mind if I sit here? There aren't any tables left and I have to be at the airport soon."

“Sure, go ahead.” she gestured to the chair across from her. Her words were natural and had no accent. She definitely wasn’t from Moscow. He thanked her before sitting down and hanging his camera bag on the back of his chair.

Then he reached his hand across the table for a handshake. “Name’s Alfred, and you.”

She took his hand and shook it. "(Y/n). A pleasure to meet you." She was pretty too, Alfred thought. Her hair was tousled and effortless. He had a lovely smile.

The waitress walked over to the table and took her order, and then Alfred's, before continuing to her next table.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Where are you from?” (Y/n) raised her eyebrow at him. Alfred chuckled, “Sorry, I just guessed. The accent, ya know?”

Her eyes were twinkling stars. "You first, American. What part of the states do you hail from?"

After living for so long, countries tend to notice certain types of humans. Some humans have a certain spark in them that tells America and anyone else like him that are particularly special. Alfred understood why Ivan was so taken with the little human in front of him.

“You caught me. I’m from New York,” he tells her. It’s technically not a lie. He did own an apartment there. He owned places in lots of his cities. It’s just better to give her some bait.

“No way! I used to work in New York.” Alfred feigned surprise.

“Wild dude! What did you do?”

“I worked on Broadway. Costume design.”

“Really? I would have thought you’d be an actress,” (Y/n)’s ears turned red and she lets out a laugh.

“Then I guess I fooled you, huh.” She was nice. Sweet and easy to be around. Alfred almost felt bad spying on her.

“Is that what you're doing in Moscow? Theater work?” He asked. He just needed her to mention Russia. Then he’d have the commie bastard cornered. She nodded.

“Then where are you living? You’re not staying very long, only until the show is over, right?”

“Ya, I can’t get a lease for such a short amount of time so I just room with someone.” Alfred had to fight the smile off his lips. He’s so close.

All of a sudden, Alfred hears a phone ping. It’s (Y/n)’s. She looks down at it.

"Oh shit!" Alfred's plan was going downhill. "Alfred, I'm so sorry! I'd love to keep talking with you but.."

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to go, a friend just called.” With that, she waves her hand to the waitress walking by and calls out, “Can I have my check please?” before standing and slipping on her coat and scarf. “It was great to meet you, Alfred! Maybe we’ll meet again.”

He watched her figure retreat out of the restaurant and down the street.

"Goddammit," he muttered under his breath. He grabbed his camera and slapped some rubles down on his table before rushing out the door.

America managed to catch up to her and followed a short distance behind. He crossed the street and walked parallel to her, still in view, when he got what he came for. Alfred scrambled to pull out his camera and focus it on the girl, who was walking up to a very tall man in a long, tan coat. Alfred snapped pictures as Ivan Braginsky waved a taxi to stop at the side of the road. He helped the small woman into the backseat before getting in on the other side. As Ivan was about to step in, something caught his eye. Ivan looked up to where Alfred was, and the two nations made eye contact.

Alfred’s cover was blown.

***

The world meeting the day after was insane. As soon as Russia and America were in the room together, shit hit the fan. Alfred stook at the front of the room, back facing a screen displaying a picture, and Ivan had stood up in his chair.

“You lied! You did know the girl they were talking about!” Alfred shouted at him.

"Of course I did! Are you that surprised!"

“ENOUGH!”

They both freeze in their tracks. Germany’s face is the colour of a tomato. “The insolence of the both of you!”

America places a hand on his heart and gasps at Germany.

“America spying on another nation-”

“Hey! I wasn’t following Ivan! I was only following the girl around.” He defended

"You followed around a civilian and spied on them, Alfred! The recklessness! The nerve!" As Germany is yelling Ivan sticks a tongue out at the American. "And you!"

Ludwig rages, directing it at the purple-eyed man.

“What were you thinking! Living with a human! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? The danger that puts everyone else in?”

Ivan raises his eyebrow, appearing more bored than anything. “Yes Mr. Germany, I am sure my roommate is very dangerous.”

“Please dude, that girl’s the only one in danger. He’s probably keeping them against her will.”

“How dare you, you capitalist pig! I would never!”

“You fuckin’ would!”

"Well, you are wrong. She needed a place to live AND she can leave if she wants!"

“As much as it pains me to say, Alfred’s right. What’s going to convince us that you’re not lying?”

“You can trust me?” Ivan tried. Everyone shot him a disbelieving look.

“What if you..” Ivan struggled with this part. “What if you got to meet her?”

Germany paused for a moment, thinking. Russia wasn’t often so cooperative. Ludwig doubted that they would have any access to this roommate of his any other way. Anyone who would try to seek her out would be blocked. Any country being too forceful could spark an international incident. He shuddered at the thought of the red tape that would need to be unraveled. Why not take his offer.

“That’s acceptable.” He conceded, his german accent thick. “When could we meet her.”

“Does right now work?”

Ivan pulls his phone out before anyone can say no. He dials a number and begins to talk.

“Hello, Are you on break right now? ...Do you think you could make it here?” Ivan told her the address. “Да, that is perfect. We’ll see you soon.” He hangs up.

Everyone was staring at him, jaws on the floor.

“What? You wanted to make sure she’s not security risk, да? Well, this will solve it. You will like her, believe me.”

The nations whispered between themselves. She's just going to show up? What was this mystery girl like? Was she as scary as Russia? Was she timid? Why on earth would anybody choose to live with a man like that? What was this girl thinking?

Ten minutes passed and the mahogany double doors swung open. A very pretty woman stepped through.

"Well hello again, Alfred. It's funny, I did say something about meeting again, didn't I?" The woman looks at Alfred with a clever gaze. She's expecting him to be surprised, and Alfred is.

“Did you..?”

“Know that you were following me? Yes. I hoped you found what you were looking for when you trailed behind me on my lunch break.” She flashed a charming smile to the rest of them.

“How’d you figure out I was following you?” Alfred’s face was flushed and he fidgeted on his feet.

"Saw you behind me as I walked to the restaurant, saw you look for me when I sat down to eat. It didn't help that Ivan had told me about a nosey American man named Alfred who he worked with. Tell me, was I worth all the chasing?"

“Uhhh…”

"Please, sit down Mr. Jones. No need to stand up there and be scolded by me in the spotlight." The nations look at each other, shocked. She certainly wasn't what they expected. "Let me tell you, I certainly don't appreciate being spied on, and I like being scrutinized even less." She remarks flippantly as she sways over the empty chair that Ivan pulled up beside him.

“How was work?” Ivan asks with a charming smile.

"Work is usual, there's always a lot of it." She settled beside him. He certainly towered over the lady. It's a wonder she wasn't afraid of him. However, from the way she strolled into an official meeting and scolded a man she barely knew, she wasn't an average little human.

She turned back to their audience with an expecting look. “Well, I’m open to questions!” She smiles brightly.

Everyone starts firing their inquiries.

“One at a time!” ordered Ludwig. The vein in his forehead pulsed with annoyance.

Alfred, with no tact whatsoever, goes in for the question that everyone didn’t want to ask. “Are you being held against your will?”

“Alfred! Bloody hell! You don’t just ask someone if they're being held prisoner!”

"Hahaha!" The girl had laughed, her head thrown back in her seat, and as they slowly reduced to barely contained giggles, she said, "The least you could do is ask me for my name first!"

America, again, looked down embarrassed.

"My name is (Y/n), for anybody wondering. It's great to meet you all." With the introduction, (Y/n) had taken to talking about her work at the theater, what show it was, when it was playing, and other theater's she had worked. Ivan had settled beside her with a content smile. It looked different then any expression anyone had seen on him in a while. Germany couldn't help but wonder if this roommate was good for Ivan. It was clear that no matter what any of the nations thought of the predicament, Ivan had no intention of kicking out his new roommate. For the foreseeable future, (Y/n) (L/n) would be constant in Ivan’s, and the rest of the world’s lives.

For an hour, the nations talked with her. Some were content to watch and listen. Other more boisterous ones leaned forward in their seats. France was very interested in her work as a costume designer, Austria wanted to know what opera’s she’s been a part of, and Arthur asked if she had ever done any Shakespeare plays.

It came to an end when the human woman glanced down at the time on her phone. The woman leaned over and said something to Ivan. The tall blond nodded back with a smile, before turning to the rest of them. "Ah yes! Well, so glad that you are all making nice, but my friend and I are going to get lunch now. Goodbye!" The two of them stood up from their chairs to leave.

"Mr. Braginsky!" Ludwig calls, astounded. “We haven't finished the meeting!”

“I don’t care. Bye!” Russia had helped Ms. (Y/n) into her coat and she turned back to them.

“It was lovely meeting you all, but I’m starving and want lunch. Thanks again!” she called as she dragged the 6 foot tall blond man out of the room by his hand. Ivan looked far too smug as the pair vanished from the conference, leaving everyone aghast.

“Did he just ditch his own meeting to go on a date?” Prussia had asked out loud.

“Lucky bastard.”

---

Author's Notes.

Can you tell I got a size kink 'cause I'd let Ivan do unspeakable things to me. He's so tall! I want him to pick me up. Even though I love him, I find that Russia is hard to write as a protagonist because it's difficult to make him in character and likable. I find that lots of people write him as too creepy or childish and that doesn't work for me.

I’m trying to make sure that all of the different routes aren’t direct copies of each other. It’s far more difficult than expected.

Also, still trying to get a feel for writing in the country's POV’s and, not as often, the readers. Also trying to make my past tense consistent. Fuck my life.

A ruble is Russia’s national currency, in case you were wondering.

Up Next? Canada!

Other Chapters (links embedded):

America

#scribe!writes #aph hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia x reader #hetalia x human!reader #ohmygodtheywereroommates #APH Russia #aphrussia #russia x reader #hetaliaomgtheywereroommates #omgtwrm

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