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Literature Text
Depressed!Painter!RussiaxDead!Reader
Strange maze, what is this place?
I hear voices over my shoulder,
Nothing's making sense at all.
Wonder, why do we race?
When everyday we're runnin' in circles,
Such a funny way to fall.
Tried to open up my eyes,
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright.
Russia stalked through the maze of a mansion he once called home with you. He could feel everyone talking about him behind his back and yelling at him about being a poor excuse for a country and how he should focus on economics instead of paintings. It wasn’t clicking inside his head so he kept trudging on with confusion.
He stopped and looked up at the roof, covered in glow in the dark stars. He remembered that you were the one who wanted them there. He started to laugh a little to himself. He was giggling about some good things and bad things and of course ironic things. He rubbed his eyes hoping this was a dream for what has happened in recent events, hoping for a chance everything will have just been a nightmare, a really upsetting nightmare…
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you.
The tall blond finished rubbing his eyes then fell to his knees. Tears rained down on his face. He wanted to see you again, to welcome him home from another world conference. But if nothing about you even living was true, Ivan had no idea what in the wide world he was going to do.
The Russian man got up and started to run upstairs. He went to the end of the left hall and slammed the door behind him. He sat down on a stool, threw off his long trench coat at the wall and picked up a paint brush. He began to dip it in yellow then made delicate strokes. He was painting flowers, for you yet again. It was a habit and he was an emotional painter already but since your passing he couldn’t take it anymore and painted flowers all the time.
Show my cards,
Gave you my heart,
Wish we could start all over.
Nothing's makin' sense at all.
Tried to open up my eyes,
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright.
Ivan sighed and put down the brush for a moment. Then picked it up again, and dipped it in the grey and started to paint cards with different suits on a fresh canvas. Each card however instead of number had flowers. Enchanting ones too, like lilies, sunflowers, and roses. Tears started to fall into the little paint buckets he had lined up by his easel.
The sad man began to paint his masterpiece faster and faster. He couldn’t believe his loss. You had died of stage three lung cancer and he couldn’t help you. The Russian took in a deep breath and tried to hold tears back, he was ready for you to come back and the two of you could start all over…together…as a family.
~Flashback~
Russia was running to the hospital as fast as he could when he got the call. After running in hall after hall after hall he made it into the room you were being kept in. barley being supported with life support. His heart crashed at the sight. This was too much. He dark brown messenger bag fell from his hand and hit with a thud on the cold, tiled floor.
He looked over at the doctor with desperate eyes and the doctor only looked down at his clipboard and asked, “Would you like to tell her anything before we take her off life support?”
Ivan nodded and approached your white hospital bed with you struggling for life.
“N-Name. It’s me Ivan. I wanted you to know you mean the world to me, and if I could afford to help you back then I would. I never expected it to be this bad or for it to come to this. I love you and I wanted you to pass as my wife. But if this is our last moments together, I need you to pass as my fiancé.” He pulled out the little velvet box from his coat pocket and opened it, revealing a ring. Though your eyes were closed and you were unconscious he could tell you would’ve said yes regardless of the context of the events around you. Ivan took the small ring and slipped it on your finger then kissed your cheek. The doctor walked over and put his hand on Ivan’s shoulder.
“Sir, it’s time for us to take her off life support, say goodbye so we can continue our work.”
“G-Goodbye, N-Name.” He barley chocked out. Tears rolled down his eyes as he watched the doctors turn everything off then your heart rate slowly stopping then going flat with a low BEEP noise.
~Flashback end~
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you,
I am still painting flowers for you.
Snapping out of his thoughts he looked around the art studio. Letting out some air he was glad it was only a memory and not happening right in front of him but still upset he lost you to a mortal illness. Death had funny ways with countries, always taking the ones they loved to early.
Ivan left his painting unfinished and slouched over, walking out of his art workroom. He made it into his room the smashed his cheeks to the wall feeling exhaustion and sadness taking over and making him go into yet another restless slumber.
When the Russian man awoke he looked up at the bed hoping to see your figure cuddled up in the blankets with your (h/c) locks spread all over the bed. But of course when he looked, you were not there, just empty white and tan bed sheets. With more cries he slammed his face onto the mattress just wanting to see your pretty little face and dazzling (e/c) orbs to know he was really home with no luck.
Looking up at the roof and saw the glow in the dark stars that spread through the house once again he dashed into his art studio again. Grabbing a blank canvas, the large man sat on the concrete floor of the room. He snagged one of his many paint brushed and dipped it on blue, and started to paint lilies. This was one flower he knew you’d love from his collection of paintings. Nothing about his life seemed true but there was nothing he was able to do about it. But there was something he could do, and that was paint. Paint, until he couldn’t anymore. So he did, and he did for you. He painted flowers for your grave and was going to place them there later when he finished the series of paintings.
I heard everything you said,
I don't wanna lose my head,
Russia started to breath heavy to keep his head from going crazy. But it was hard, not after all those things you told him.
~flashback~
Ivan walked into your bedroom seeing you cuddled with a stuffed bear. It warmed his heart. He saw a letter being straggled in your grip and your cheeks tear stained. Naturally he wanted a closer look at what caused this. Unfortunately while trying to get the paper from your hands he had woken you up in the process causing you to jump and smack his face out of reflexes.
“Oh! Ivan I didn’t mean to hit you. But you know better than to spook me whilst I’m sleeping.” You told him, your (h/c) hair falling off your shoulders as you rose into a sitting position.
Your Russian boyfriend had a hand on his cheek while he was sitting on the floor trying to cure the numbness from it hopefully by rubbing.
“Yeah I know. But seeing your face like that and you strangling that letter, my curiosity got the best of me da.” He laughed a little. You looked down at your fist seeing the note crumples between your fingers and palm.
“Oh uh yeah about that…uh I got this from the doctors yesterday night. It says I have…cancer…” you trailed off practically mumbling the last part. Ivan heard it loud and clear though. He was not pleased. This was a lot to take in. too much to take in.
~Flashback end~
He Shook his head to keep the thoughts from rolling in, knowing they were going to get worse and worse as he kept thinking. Ivan took his finest paintbrush and dipped it into paint. Making fine detail strokes, the Russian painted irises growing by a brick wall. His collection was almost complete. This made him smile just a bit before the sadden expression returned.
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you,
I am still painting flowers for you.
Ivan woke up to his alarm clock buzzing. His purple orbs blinked a couple times for his vision to adjust. They widened as he realized what time it was. He was going to be late. And this was the last day he could say anything to you about whatever thing. He rocketed out of bed and practically flew into the bathroom to shower and get ready.
After his five minute shower he ran and had to slide into his room just not to crash into any walls or anything. Ivan grabbed his clothes, trench coat, scarf, and messenger bag. He entered his art studio and pulled on his hiking boots then filled his messenger bag with all the paintings he’d been working on for the past week and a half. He loaded them up then slung the bag over his shoulder. He ran downstairs and out the door not even locking it on his way out.
Not having any time for stopping or waiting he pushed and shoved past people down the very busy sidewalks of the city. Ivan eventually made it to the funeral home and found Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Belarus, Ukraine, and a few other countries that were close to the two of you. He stood up a little taller then walked to the front of the room.
Once Ivan approached the front of the room, he saw you elegantly placed in your wooden casket. He smiled at how fragile you looked. A blush growing upon his face, the Russian opened his messenger bag and began to take out all of his beautiful paintings and placed them around your cist. He smiled at how pretty they looked all around your casket. Each one had various flowers from lilies, roses, sunflowers, ivy, and hydrangea. Each painting was more elegant than the last. Everyone at your service starred in awe at the amazing work the intimidating Russian had made.
And it was a sight that even made the heavens stop just to look at and marvel at its beauty, funny how it was the funeral service of a small town nobody named (first name) (last name).
THE END
Strange maze, what is this place?
I hear voices over my shoulder,
Nothing's making sense at all.
Wonder, why do we race?
When everyday we're runnin' in circles,
Such a funny way to fall.
Tried to open up my eyes,
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright.
Russia stalked through the maze of a mansion he once called home with you. He could feel everyone talking about him behind his back and yelling at him about being a poor excuse for a country and how he should focus on economics instead of paintings. It wasn’t clicking inside his head so he kept trudging on with confusion.
He stopped and looked up at the roof, covered in glow in the dark stars. He remembered that you were the one who wanted them there. He started to laugh a little to himself. He was giggling about some good things and bad things and of course ironic things. He rubbed his eyes hoping this was a dream for what has happened in recent events, hoping for a chance everything will have just been a nightmare, a really upsetting nightmare…
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you.
The tall blond finished rubbing his eyes then fell to his knees. Tears rained down on his face. He wanted to see you again, to welcome him home from another world conference. But if nothing about you even living was true, Ivan had no idea what in the wide world he was going to do.
The Russian man got up and started to run upstairs. He went to the end of the left hall and slammed the door behind him. He sat down on a stool, threw off his long trench coat at the wall and picked up a paint brush. He began to dip it in yellow then made delicate strokes. He was painting flowers, for you yet again. It was a habit and he was an emotional painter already but since your passing he couldn’t take it anymore and painted flowers all the time.
Show my cards,
Gave you my heart,
Wish we could start all over.
Nothing's makin' sense at all.
Tried to open up my eyes,
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright.
Ivan sighed and put down the brush for a moment. Then picked it up again, and dipped it in the grey and started to paint cards with different suits on a fresh canvas. Each card however instead of number had flowers. Enchanting ones too, like lilies, sunflowers, and roses. Tears started to fall into the little paint buckets he had lined up by his easel.
The sad man began to paint his masterpiece faster and faster. He couldn’t believe his loss. You had died of stage three lung cancer and he couldn’t help you. The Russian took in a deep breath and tried to hold tears back, he was ready for you to come back and the two of you could start all over…together…as a family.
~Flashback~
Russia was running to the hospital as fast as he could when he got the call. After running in hall after hall after hall he made it into the room you were being kept in. barley being supported with life support. His heart crashed at the sight. This was too much. He dark brown messenger bag fell from his hand and hit with a thud on the cold, tiled floor.
He looked over at the doctor with desperate eyes and the doctor only looked down at his clipboard and asked, “Would you like to tell her anything before we take her off life support?”
Ivan nodded and approached your white hospital bed with you struggling for life.
“N-Name. It’s me Ivan. I wanted you to know you mean the world to me, and if I could afford to help you back then I would. I never expected it to be this bad or for it to come to this. I love you and I wanted you to pass as my wife. But if this is our last moments together, I need you to pass as my fiancé.” He pulled out the little velvet box from his coat pocket and opened it, revealing a ring. Though your eyes were closed and you were unconscious he could tell you would’ve said yes regardless of the context of the events around you. Ivan took the small ring and slipped it on your finger then kissed your cheek. The doctor walked over and put his hand on Ivan’s shoulder.
“Sir, it’s time for us to take her off life support, say goodbye so we can continue our work.”
“G-Goodbye, N-Name.” He barley chocked out. Tears rolled down his eyes as he watched the doctors turn everything off then your heart rate slowly stopping then going flat with a low BEEP noise.
~Flashback end~
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you,
I am still painting flowers for you.
Snapping out of his thoughts he looked around the art studio. Letting out some air he was glad it was only a memory and not happening right in front of him but still upset he lost you to a mortal illness. Death had funny ways with countries, always taking the ones they loved to early.
Ivan left his painting unfinished and slouched over, walking out of his art workroom. He made it into his room the smashed his cheeks to the wall feeling exhaustion and sadness taking over and making him go into yet another restless slumber.
When the Russian man awoke he looked up at the bed hoping to see your figure cuddled up in the blankets with your (h/c) locks spread all over the bed. But of course when he looked, you were not there, just empty white and tan bed sheets. With more cries he slammed his face onto the mattress just wanting to see your pretty little face and dazzling (e/c) orbs to know he was really home with no luck.
Looking up at the roof and saw the glow in the dark stars that spread through the house once again he dashed into his art studio again. Grabbing a blank canvas, the large man sat on the concrete floor of the room. He snagged one of his many paint brushed and dipped it on blue, and started to paint lilies. This was one flower he knew you’d love from his collection of paintings. Nothing about his life seemed true but there was nothing he was able to do about it. But there was something he could do, and that was paint. Paint, until he couldn’t anymore. So he did, and he did for you. He painted flowers for your grave and was going to place them there later when he finished the series of paintings.
I heard everything you said,
I don't wanna lose my head,
Russia started to breath heavy to keep his head from going crazy. But it was hard, not after all those things you told him.
~flashback~
Ivan walked into your bedroom seeing you cuddled with a stuffed bear. It warmed his heart. He saw a letter being straggled in your grip and your cheeks tear stained. Naturally he wanted a closer look at what caused this. Unfortunately while trying to get the paper from your hands he had woken you up in the process causing you to jump and smack his face out of reflexes.
“Oh! Ivan I didn’t mean to hit you. But you know better than to spook me whilst I’m sleeping.” You told him, your (h/c) hair falling off your shoulders as you rose into a sitting position.
Your Russian boyfriend had a hand on his cheek while he was sitting on the floor trying to cure the numbness from it hopefully by rubbing.
“Yeah I know. But seeing your face like that and you strangling that letter, my curiosity got the best of me da.” He laughed a little. You looked down at your fist seeing the note crumples between your fingers and palm.
“Oh uh yeah about that…uh I got this from the doctors yesterday night. It says I have…cancer…” you trailed off practically mumbling the last part. Ivan heard it loud and clear though. He was not pleased. This was a lot to take in. too much to take in.
~Flashback end~
He Shook his head to keep the thoughts from rolling in, knowing they were going to get worse and worse as he kept thinking. Ivan took his finest paintbrush and dipped it into paint. Making fine detail strokes, the Russian painted irises growing by a brick wall. His collection was almost complete. This made him smile just a bit before the sadden expression returned.
When I wake up,
The dream isn't done.
I wanna see your face,
And know I made it home.
If nothing is true,
What more can I do?
I am still painting flowers for you,
I am still painting flowers for you.
Ivan woke up to his alarm clock buzzing. His purple orbs blinked a couple times for his vision to adjust. They widened as he realized what time it was. He was going to be late. And this was the last day he could say anything to you about whatever thing. He rocketed out of bed and practically flew into the bathroom to shower and get ready.
After his five minute shower he ran and had to slide into his room just not to crash into any walls or anything. Ivan grabbed his clothes, trench coat, scarf, and messenger bag. He entered his art studio and pulled on his hiking boots then filled his messenger bag with all the paintings he’d been working on for the past week and a half. He loaded them up then slung the bag over his shoulder. He ran downstairs and out the door not even locking it on his way out.
Not having any time for stopping or waiting he pushed and shoved past people down the very busy sidewalks of the city. Ivan eventually made it to the funeral home and found Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Belarus, Ukraine, and a few other countries that were close to the two of you. He stood up a little taller then walked to the front of the room.
Once Ivan approached the front of the room, he saw you elegantly placed in your wooden casket. He smiled at how fragile you looked. A blush growing upon his face, the Russian opened his messenger bag and began to take out all of his beautiful paintings and placed them around your cist. He smiled at how pretty they looked all around your casket. Each one had various flowers from lilies, roses, sunflowers, ivy, and hydrangea. Each painting was more elegant than the last. Everyone at your service starred in awe at the amazing work the intimidating Russian had made.
And it was a sight that even made the heavens stop just to look at and marvel at its beauty, funny how it was the funeral service of a small town nobody named (first name) (last name).
THE END
Literature
VodkaMoon Part 2
Before in the Last chapter....
POV Russia
"I hope Belarus wasnt the one to hurt this poor girl" you sigh aloud
And now this is happening....
End of Part 1
VodkaMoon Part 2
RussiaXwolfshapeshifter reader
Your pov
Your (eyecolor) slowly open as you wince in pain.someone Had Fully treated and dressed your wounds, you carfully look around you were in a cozy room that looks like it mite be the family room of a house. There was leather furniture that consisted of a cozy looking arm chair and the confortable worn couch you were currently laying on. The feeling in the room was verry warm not only because of the cracling fireplace but the colo
Literature
Russia x Injured!Reader
“Ms. (y/n) you may need more surgery if your hip does not heal” the doctor explained as you laid on the cold hospital bed. You were the country of (c/n). Your country was suffering an economic crisis, as predicted, your body took its toll.
“You may experience difficulty walking for long periods of time. We suggest you use a wheelchair mainly” the doctor explained further while you nodded.
“There’s someone here to take you home” a nurse entered and the doctor nodded before turning to you and smiling as he left the room.
“Privet (y/n)!” Ivan walked in and your face lit up.
“I came
Literature
Russia X Reader - This Broken Road
♪I set out on a narrow way, many years ago♪
Slowly you looked around, the only light came from the dim stars overhead. Once again, you were lost. "Hello!?" You called out. No one answered. You began to stumble around in the snow, it was colder then ever. Seeing a tree, you began to climb. It took a good 10 minutes. Now that you were safely on a branch, you began to drift to sleep...
♪Hoping I would find true love along this broken road♪
Russia's POV
Russia sighed, how come no one would stay? He knew how cold he could be, but you shouldn't make him made. He tossed the bottle of vodka to the side, he was going outsid
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ONESHOT, this is a one shot from my Depressed!CountryxDead!Reader Songfic Collection
others in the collection;
Depressed!EnglandxDead!Reader-Rembering sunday: WIP
Depressed!BTTxDead!Reader-This time i swear i mean it:[link]
Depressed!AmericaxDead!Reader-She will be loved:[link]
I dont own hetalia
YOU: scaredrussiaplz
i suggest listening to this as you read;
song: painting flowers- all time low [link]
others in the collection;
Depressed!EnglandxDead!Reader-Rembering sunday: WIP
Depressed!BTTxDead!Reader-This time i swear i mean it:[link]
Depressed!AmericaxDead!Reader-She will be loved:[link]
I dont own hetalia
YOU: scaredrussiaplz
i suggest listening to this as you read;
song: painting flowers- all time low [link]
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