A/N: A short story about Fem!Russia and Prussia, I needed to take a break from my main story and this was refreshing to write.

***Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters

***Warnings: Minor language, Implied sexual interactions

Homework

He compared her to homework. Mostly because he couldn't stand her, but she always found a way to infiltrate herself into his daily life. She was tall, almost taller than him. Her long ashen-blond hair cascaded over her shoulders and curled slightly before reaching her lower back. She had such a peculiar smile, innocent, yet deadly. The way her clipped accent would sometimes butcher English words in a way he could only describe as adorable. And her eyes, oh god her gorgeous eyes, were large, bright violet orbs shaded by choppily cut bangs.

He couldn't stand her. Gilbert Beilschmidt wanted absolutely nothing to do Anya Braginsky. Just like he wanted nothing to do with his homework.

High school was tough, definitely a difficult transition form middle school. The homework came in small amounts at first, then the assignments began to pile up on his desk. Paper after paper. Project after project. Just like her. Glance after glance. Conversation after conversation. He couldn't handle the psychological torture it was putting him through. He couldn't hand what she was putting him through. She was annoying at first. She liked to mess with him. Out of all the jeers from his fellow peers, her juvenile comments were the ones that had him biting his lip in an attempt to regain self control. It was minimal at first, then she began to show up everywhere in his life. The interactions between the two were of those of an old married couple. Cruel, yet kind. Joking, yet serious. Somehow, throughout all the insults he found himself enjoying their interactions. She managed to bring a smile face. A smile he hadn't smiled in years. The way her violet gaze would linger on him. The way her long hair would sometimes get tangled in the tails of that ridiculous ever present scarf. He came to appreciate everything about her, just like one of those school projects you look forward to for weeks. The fun ones with visual displays and a subject that aligns perfectly with what you're passionate about.

Yet he still hated her. She had this sort of confidence that sent him over the edge. The way she would eye him knowingly when something didn't go his way. Almost as if she was daring him to throw the fit she knew he would. Go ahead, do it. Show them the child you really are. The broken, insecure, lost child that lies beneath that shit-eating grin of yours. The look on her face said it all. She didn't even try to hide it any more. She held herself as if she were better than him. Then again, maybe she was.

The day she got a boyfriend was the day he official decided he hated her. She walked into school, hand in hand with the perfect, all American boy. Alfred F. Jones. The star quarter back, the tall blonde hunk. The guy all the girls in school practically worshipped. Gilbert hated him too. This was all becoming some cheesy high school chick flick. The silent, somewhat quirky Russian girl dating the most popular boy in school. Anya didn't belong with someone like Alfred. She belonged with someone like him. Someone in her own league, who was struggling with his own problems. And boy, he knew she had problems as well. He noticed the blank look on her face from time to time. The way she seemed to be lost in her own little world, not aware of any of her surroundings. It crushed him to see her like that. Just like it crushed him, well more of his pride, to see his grades failing.

Yes just like homework. He hated both, but didn't want to fail either of them.

It got worse when Anya started to get hate mail in her locker. Stupid jealous bitches. Why did high school girls have to be so immature and despicable? He would never understand the brain of a women. He was always there for comfort. His way of comforting her, however, was through petty insults and an occasional rough bump to the shoulder. He wanted to make her mad. Well, not mad, more irritated than anything else. But only so she would push him back, retort with an equally illiterate insult. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Ever since Anya started dating that stupid American, her life entered a downward spiral. And Gilbert was the only one trying to pull her out of it. Sometimes, when no one was around, he would slide paper sunflowers into the slits of her locker. He knew they were her favorite. The way her whole face lit up as the flowers gently cascaded to the floor when she opened the metal door, made his whole day. She thought Alfred left them of course. Like hell he would say it was him anyway. He still had a reputation to uphold, and that reputation was 80% being awesome and 20% hating Anya Braginsky.

Things only got worse from then on out though. The fucking douchebag of a boyfriend didn't even spare Anya a second glance. His biggest concerns were how much food he was allowed to eat at lunch, and when the next big game would be. It made him sick. The poor girl couldn't even get a sentence in before Al or one of his friends interrupted her, they talked over her as if she didn't even exist. Gilbert decided to give up. He had gotten to the point in the year where he had far too many missing assignments. He didn't care for his grades anymore, he didn't care for much. Francis and Antonio called it a case of a broken heart. But it wasn't his heart that was shattered beyond repair, it was hers.

You know that stupid pick up line 'you're like my homework, I'm going to slam you on my desk and do you all night'? Well, that's exactly what he did. He was fed up with Anya being treated like a piece of shit. He told her he would help her study for an upcoming test, an odd proposal form her greatest frenemy, but she complied. He had honesty tried to study at first, but he just couldn't resist. The way she sat, the way she held her notebook on her lap, the cute way she breathed, the adorable facial expressions she made while concentrating. It was all too much for him. He kissed her with a surprising amount of force. And to his absolute delight, she kissed back with the same amount of intensity, maybe even more. He wasted no time sitting her on his desk and sliding between her legs. The way her long fingers gripped his hair, holding him firmly in place, reminded him who was really in charge. The sex was slow, passionate, loving. Then it got hot, rough, and nothing but pleasurable. The best part for Gilbert though, was the aftermath. He finally got to hold her in his arms. The way she nuzzled into his bare chest sent him to cloud nine. Nothing could ruin this moment for him. Nothing but the next morning. He awoke to find Anya in tears. She was holding her face in her hands, sobbing about how she had made a mistake. A horrible mistake. He could do nothing but hold her and tell her everything was fine. He didn't know if he was trying to reassure Anya or himself. She felt horrible for what she did, she had cheated on Alfred. Cheated on her wonderful boyfriend who left paper sunflowers in her locker.

Gilbert got angry. No, he was livid. How could she not see what Alfred was doing to her? How did she not know Gilbert was only trying to help? It was him who left the flowers. It was him who sought her out, day after day, to make sure she was still ok. It was him who comforted her in her time of need. It was him who gave her the best sex she had ever had. It was all him. Not Alfred.

It was you...? The question was so innocent coming from her bruised lips.

Yes.

It was him. It had always been him. But still, being the stubborn wench she was, she had to sort things out with Alfred. Gilbert lost it. He let his fury get the better of him.

Get out. Get out! He screamed it over and over again, both of them were in the verge of tears. Why couldn't she see? Why was she so blind? Why didn't she understand that he loved her?

He loved her.

The shock of admitting it to himself caused him to calm down. But by the time he came to his senses, Anya was already gone.

They didn't talk to each other for the next week. They didn't even dare to look at each other. Gilbert was at the point where he completely ignored his homework, not caring about his grades in the slightest.

Eventually the conversation began to flow. Things almost went back to normal, the insults, the constant competition, the shit-eating grin and anything but innocent smile. Gilbert was beginning to catch up with his schoolwork, slowly but surly making up failed assesments. Everything was fine until they broke up. Yes, Alfred and Anya ended their relationship. Well, it was actually Alfred's doing. The fool finally admitted to himself the relationship was unhealthy. Gilbert would have applauded the boy for making his first smart decision, that is if Anya wasn't in too deep. She had gotten too emotionally attached. She didn't see the flaws in the relationship and was now utterly crushed and convinced there was something wrong with her. Why couldn't she just see that she was beautiful? Why couldn't she see that he cared for her so much?

He didn't know what made him venture to the roof that day. It was almost as if he legs were working on their own. But when he reached the top and saw the familiar ash blonde hair and off white scarf billowing in the breeze, he knew it was fate. But something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Anya was standing far too close to the edge. He called out to her and ran to the edge of the building. Stop! Or I'll jump! He skidded to a halt. No, no, NO. This couldn't be happening.

Why? He asked.

Because no one wants me. Her violet eyes were dull, almost expressionless save the immense pain hidden in the iris. Not even you. She said as she smiled her final smile, a small innocent grin that looked almost happy, before leaning back over the edge.

You're wrong. Gilbert's adrenaline kicked in as he propelled himself forward, grabbing the hem of her sleeve. His free hand flew to the railing for support. There he was, Anya's life literally in his hands. Somehow he was able to pull her back onto the stable platform of the school's roof. He embraced her, holding her as if she would disappear any second. He let out a pitiful sob and buried his face into her hair, keeping one hand locked around her wast, the other tangled itself in her thick ash blonde locks.

You're wrong. He repeated. I want you.

I need you.

A/N: It was literally that cheesy pickup line that inspired this whole story. Plus I really wanted to write Fem!Russia x Prussia w

Thank you for reading and please leave a review if you have time!