Hello lovely people who decided to click on and hopefully read this story, first of all, thank you. Secondly, I'd like you to know that I'm aware of my grammar issues and I've fixed them to the best of my ability... This is my first chaptered fic (although it's probably only going to have 2-5 chapters tops), and I'm pretty new to the game, so bear with me if my prose is kinda shotty. I'd really love to hear what you guys think and I'd also appreciate any concrit anyone can give me.

Warnings: possible OOC, breaking the fourth wall (but very briefly), fem!nations and heterotalia, sexual frustration, and shitty angst. I know that the issues and that the entire concept is kinda overdone, cliche, and kinda ridiculous, but I'm trying to juxtapose it with the nature of their relationship as well as the (hopefully) humor through out. Let me know how well or badly I accomplished this?

Mentions of: Fruk, Spamano, Gerita, DenNor, Lietpol, plus a tiny bit of RusPol and PolHun. Fem! France, Spain, Italy, Denmark, and Poland. Plus Mangary.

Ok, with that, here it is...


It was looking like it was to be a good day for the Edelweiss nation. He had had a pleasant, reassuring meeting with boss earlier, leaving him to have time to play the piano before lunchtime. Which leads us to now—his fingers moving in horizontal motion, creating a beautiful melody—lost in his own little world. He didn't even notice when a certain albino slipped into his music room and sat down beside him on the piano bench at some point during the piece.

"Ugh, finally," she drawls out, "I was about to fall asleep. Geez Specs, could you have picked a more boring song to play?" Austria suppresses a cringe, choosing to ignore her jab. He simply stands up and leaves the room. Sure enough, he hears her heavy-footed steps trailing behind him. She quickly catches up to him, and presses herself against her back. His step falters when he feels a surprisingly soft yet lean body practically snuggling into him, then wrapping two snow white arms around his waist. Her forehead rests against his shoulder blade while she burrows her face into the crease where his arm meets his body. Most people forget that she is, in fact, fairly shorter than Austria, probably because her ego adds many centimeters to her persona. He was happy that she can't see his face, a hue of a flushed pink has replaced his usual creamy complexion. He takes a deep breath, then shakes himself free from her grasp.

"What do you want, Julchen?" he asked exasperatedly, not in the mood for her nonsense. "Roddy," she pouted, "I'm shocked by your inhospitality! Surely, this isn't how one in high society is supposed to act..." She answered with a shit-eating grin. Suppressing a growl, he turned around to give her the evil eye. But he almost stopped in his tracks—she certainly looked quite...delectable today—especially in Roderich's eyes. Her usual un-styled, flat hair was thrown into a messy up-do (she must've taken the convertible and needed to keep her hair out of her face), but my, did it look good. She also chose to don a tight tank top, fashionable combat-like boots with the flaps rolled down to her ankle, a micro mini skirt, and a pair of fishnet-like tights with intricate floral patterns but had regular stocking material at the top part of them starting at the upper-middle thigh. They made her already long legs go on for miles, and her skirt was so short that he could see the transition of the two materials slightly peeking out from underneath. God, how he wanted those legs wrapped around him as he fucked her into the wall—what?! Verdammt, Österreich, get it together! Essentially, she was looking entirely too tempting, and that opinion was formed without even looking at her face: unnaturally dark lashes (literally, she loved it when mascara was invented and he honestly didn't care that it was the magic of cosmetics that helped, uh, enhance her natural beauty), that residual slightly pink tone staining her cheeks, these (surprisingly natural, bearing them since the 700's) red, red lips that he secretly wanted all over his body... Judging by her expression luckily his hidden desires aren't evident on his face.

He almost missed a beat from the distraction in front of him, but was quick to retort her quip. "One in high society isn't meant to entertain, nonetheless even associate with commoners," her expression faltered, "and we ideally are not to even acknowledge the trash." He snootily stated, gesturing to her on the word "trash." At this she was trying her best not to look utterly offended. "Well," she started, the smug expression beginning to return to her face, "you certainly didn't mind 'acknowledging the trash' last week when you were screaming my name... Why, I even recall you begging me not to leave and spend the night with you." He scoffed, but didn't say anything. She won this round.

His relationship with the Prussian was always a complicated one. They first kissed in the 900's, and both were secretly hooked ever since. He knew that any war involving both him and Julchen would result, in some shape, way, or form, in amazing, passionate sex between the two. The fact that they've managed to keep their physical relationship a secret for all this time made their trysts even sweeter. Despite unwillingly falling in love with her due to hundreds of years of profound and revealing pillow talk they both shared, he made sure to keep his feelings to himself. His frau, on the other hand, could barely contain hers and blatantly expresses them when she needs to the most (most notably: when after the Wall came down). Sure, he would drop a subtle hint now and then to keep her coming around, but he refused to submit and make himself vulnerable to her. She only initially revealed hers when she had nothing left to lose—thoroughly humiliated enough by the Allied powers all those years ago.

Coming back to the present, he quickly formulated a response to give him the final word in their little verbal spat. This round isn't over yet... "Yes," he started, "well, while I don't blame you for trying to deny your place in my life, I'd prefer you to do it somewhere else. I'm in no need of your services today, and looking at you gives me the deepest displeasure. That's the thing about trash—it's unwanted matter that has no more use or purpose for its owner—it can easily discarded. If I feel the need to make you useful again, I'll call you to come over and even reimburse your travel expenses," explaining this to her in a condescending, scathing tone while pretentiously closing his eyes halfway through his speech. Then with a smug, malicious chuckle and a belittling "shoo-"ing motion Austria continues on, "go on now, out the door with you..." When he finally opened up his eyes and fully processed what he said, he knew that he's gone too far. If the tears forming in her eyes (which she was desperately trying to blink away) weren't enough of an indicator, he knows that insults and arguments aside, the two, at the very least, have an underlying mutual respect for each other. The only unspoken agreement and understanding between them, and he has just completely violated it. He opens his mouth to apologize, his expression being that of shock and remorse, but is quickly cut off by a swift yet sharp slap to the face. The face she then shoots him practically breaks his heart. Most likely, its original intent is to inflict death onto its viewer but it only served to show the hurt and betrayal that he's caused her to feel. Roderich is actually quite happy to taste blood in his mouth, although he knows he deserves more punishment than that.

Again, before he even has a chance to apologize, take her into his arms and rectify the situation, she's already storming out of his house. He runs and calls out to her, but by the time he makes it to the front entrance, she's hopping into her car and reeves the engine. Not giving him a second look, she steps on the gas pedal and rolls out of his extravagant, circular drive way. She is gone.

He feels awful. Ok, not 'after The Great War' awful, but awful nonetheless. There is a sharp pain in the depths of his stomach, an ache in his chest, bile rising up his throat, and an overwhelming sense of dread that captivates his mind. Scheiße! Part of him wants to whisk her away in his arms, give her the sappiest declaration of love that the planet has ever seen, and beg for forgiveness. This desire of his is uncharacteristic for him and disturbs him greatly. Other unnatural thoughts appear as well. They flood his head, all urgent and intimidating. He simply can't get his mind off of his silverette. He needs her and is simply just a fool if he thinks otherwise. He makes some tea and goes out into his garden to help him think. How do I get back in her good graces? he thinks. Austria comes up with some ideas but he knows that they won't work...he, much to his displeasure, concludes that he would need to tell her his feelings. But how? "Ich liebe dich" is a phrase that he has never said to anyone before in his life. "You're such a great friend;" "you're like a brother/sister to me;" "I cherish our relationship and/or our time spent together;" yes: but he has never directly told anyone that he loves them even in a platonic or familial way. Roderich has honestly never truly loved anyone in all of his years. Well except for Julchen, that is. That woman is a tempest, constantly raging and mixing everything up. However, he loves that about her. He can finally freely admit his feelings to himself, but he knows that he won't be able to say them out loud—he's too proud.


Meanwhile, in a sleek, expensive Mercedes-Benz convertible, Prussia practically flies through the outskirts and then suburbs of Vienna. Feeling utterly humiliated, she just wants to go home, drink beer, and tell Julchick about what just happened. [She would've brought Julchick with her, but: a) tiny bird + open-top vehicle + autobahn = disaster; and b) she thought that she was going to get laid so why bring her awesomely bitchin' little chick with her?]. When she finally makes it home, she executes her previously made plan. She has already drank about 1/3 of a freshly opened keg when Julchick finally decides to plop down and burrow into her messy bun (she never bothered to take it out). After recounting the tale to her ever most trusted sidekick, she rants on.

"How fucking dare he?! Insinuating that I'm some kind of personal whore... I almost want to ask Poland to give him back Silesia just so I can snatch them from him all over again—claim his vital regions one last time! Ugh, I know that he probably doesn't actually think that about me, but dammit I'm still fucking pissed at him for saying that to me! H-he can't really think that about me, can he? Arschgeige! When did I start caring what he thinks anyways? This would've never affected me five hundred years ago...did I grow soft?

No. NO. Nien—I'm much too awesome for that. I mean, who cares if I told him a few times that I love him and he's never said it back...that doesn't mean that I'm the attached one, does it? What the hell am I even saying? Of course he's the attached one, who wouldn't want a daily dose of mein awesomeness in their lives? That sissy priss needs me, I'm sure of it. Kesesesesesesesese...I'm so awesome. So maybe he had one lucky shot in humiliating me, it won't ever happen again. I'll get back at him—no one fucks with me and gets away with it. Besides, he must be forgetting who the Queen of Covert Condescension is, and that of course, is the awesome me!" She finishes her drunken soliloquy by prancing around her room and refilling her stein, but not before shouting the words "three beirs for sweet revenge!" Now with about 3/5's of the keg gone, she gets into bed. Drunkenly remembering her declaration for "sweet revenge," she thinks (out loud of course) how she should go about doing it. Plotting revenge is second nature to her. Romance, however, is not. Befuddled, she decides that she needs to call and ask someone for help on the matter. She thinks about which one of her female nation counterparts she can ask.

France? No, she'd just get all nosey, laugh at my question, give me a shit idea, then tell everyone that I'm having some type of relationship problem. Besides, didn't she mention that she was going to be kept prisoner by that bushy browed douchebag of a washed up Empire at The Tower of London and become the new jewel in his Crown (or some stupid fucking shit like that) this weekend?

Spain? Nah, although she is good at taming the bulls, Romano's made her soft over the years. C'mon, we all knew that the little Italians were little bitches, but seriously, he's secretly so ridiculously sappy it makes me want to vomit.

Italy? Nein—although she would probably be able to give me some great advice, she'd blabber everything to Ludwig and he'd make a big ass deal about the relationship. Besides Italy, Austria (possibly Japan) and I are the only nations that he feels actually comfortable and not awkward around. He'd probably flip a shit at Austria for sleeping with me, considering how he handled the whole Brandenburg situation... Or even worse, Chiara would tell me about her sex life with mein kleiner bruder—EW, EW, EW, EW, EW! I'm not even going to go there.

Denmark? She'd invite herself over, drink mein beir, tell me about her sex with Norway (and how she makes him say romantic/emotional shit in the heat of the moment or else he can't cum and/or purposefully tries to deflate his erection by talking about her yeast infection of '09, lmao. Or how she walks around in her sexiest lingerie doing innocently sexy things, and not letting him touch her at all.), which would make her horny and cause her to then leave to once again have sex with him. Although Mathilde gets what she wants, her methods are a little too needy for my taste...

Poland? Well, she's been married to Lithuania for centuries and he still follows her around like a puppy despite being the proud nation that he is today. After becoming friends with Felicja behind the Wall, we shared secrets with each other all the time. She loves to boss people around so she'd tell me exactly what to do and how to do it... She took his fucking capitol and he's still in love with her. I remember when that guy kicked my ass back in the day (although Latvia mentioned that the whole Vilnius thing was resolved due to Poland's oral fixation and Lithuania's need to relieve a lot of tension over the years. But whatever, that's not the point. Blow jobs can't solve everything.)... She's perfect!

Digging up her phone from God knows where, she finds Felicja's number and presses "send." It rings a few times before she answers. "What's up, suka?" comes her sassy greeting. Julchen can't help but drunkenly giggle at that before responding, "Hey arschloch," she starts off with a slur, "I need your help with something."

"...Are you drunk?"

"Uh, ja." All Prussia hears coming from the other line is an appreciative chuckle.

"Nice. So, what do you, like, want my help with?" This is why she loves the Polish woman, ever since becoming friends, she always has time for her drunken antics and doesn't judge or, to her knowledge at least, tell anyone else about them (if her bruder found out about them he'd be pissed). How were the ever enemies?

"Long story short, I need to get revenge on this guy that I'm sleeping with. Also, if there's a way to make him confess his love and desire for me, that'd be great too."

There was a pause. "Like, duh," finally came her reply, "you just make him jealous. Show him that he's not the only one who wants some of you... Why do you think I let that gigantic freak touch my ass and explain to me what 'becoming one with' him, in a nonpolitical context, means? And then I can discretely flash some major cleavage at Hungary, so he'll come over as well, then before you know it, Ivan and Daniel are arguing who's gonna hook up with me. Liet gets SO jealous when that happens. You've seen it, he throws me shoulder...and becomes a total beast in between the sheets. It's the hottest thing ever when it happens to you." She paused for a moment and then continued, " I mean come on, the answer is pretty freaking obvious, how did you not think of that?"

Dammit, she's right. It is obvious. Cliché, totally manipulative, and dangerous: but completely obvious. Julchen groaned, thanked her and hung up the phone. Now the only thing she has to do is devise a plan. Damn her annoyingly accurate Eurovision song, unlike her I don't have fucking rack that she, and all the rest of the Slavic nationettes, do. Well, if he's been into this, she thinks whilst looking down at her lanky—yet sexy of course—body, for this long, then not having a shit ton (or even a substantial amount) of cleavage shouldn't be an issue. Satisfied with her shockingly above average drunken mental reasoning, Julchen attempts to plot. Opening the little "notes" icon on her phone, she types to the best of her ability: "make that cake-eating bastard jealous as hell." She means to add more to the page, but before she knows it she's already being lulled to sleep by Julchick's soft chirping.


Felicja puts her phone down after her drunk and desperate East German friend ends the call. Shaking her head and chuckling, she goes back to the living room of her husband's house and sets herself back down onto the couch. She worms her way back under the blanket, snuggling up to her ultra cuddly Lithuanian. He resumes the position that they were in before her phone rang, wrapping his arms around her, pressing her is his body.

"Seems like you just had a very interesting conversation..." he says lowly into her ear, while brushing her long, blonde locks back out of her face. She instinctively shivers slightly at his breath meeting the sensitive skin of the back of her neck. Ever the bashful one, she also can't help but blush a little, considering what he has heard.

"You heard all that?" comes her uncharacteristically dainty reply.

"Yes," he states in an amused manner. Shit! She frantically thinks as she squints, contemplating how pissed he's going to be at her. Wait—in a what manner?!

"Why the hell are you so amused by the revelation of my dirty tricks?" She means to simply keep this thought internal and then coyly comment on his tone, but the thought simply spills from her lips.

"You honestly thought that I didn't know?" he manages to answer her, save a few escaped giggles. Manly giggles, mind you. Our dear Polska, however, is almost to flustered to speak.

"Uh, yes?" she squeaks out. Really turning towards him and studying his face, she's surprised to find that there isn't a lick of anger in his expression. Incredulously, she blurts out, "wait, you're not mad?"

"No. Although it's a bit insulting that you try to manipulate me like that, it's nothing that I can't handle. Your dirty tricks no longer surprise me. In fact, they haven't for a long time. I more so expect them at this point." Ignoring his more or less direct insults, she allows him to continue on. "Besides, I rather like this game. You of all know how much my country has weakened over the years... It's rather nice to conquer something again. The adrenaline rush, the feeling like you have unlimited power and strength, coming out on top—it's exhilarating. Plus, seeing the look on Russia's face when I take what he can never has is always satisfying..." He ends his explanation with a smirk, and Felicja suddenly finds herself heavily breathing whilst dampening her panties.

Toris takes advantage of his wife's current situation, transforming his smirk into an absolutely predatory expression, snarling slightly before pouncing on her. She lets out a surprised, feminine (which he finds utterly sexily adorable at that moment) yelp before falling onto her back. Off the couch and the floor. Normally, she'd be beyond pissed at him for knocking her down, but right now she simply relishes in the feeling of his body on top of hers. It's times like this where she truly remembers why he was known to others as a 'fearsome wolf' back in the Middle Ages. Coincidentally, it's these are also the times when she has uncontrollable, consecutive orgasms. Their lips meet, and for the next few hours The Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth is alive, well, and back in business.


Back at Austria's house, Roderich is still being assaulted by his guilt and racing thoughts. There must be some other way to confess my love for her without the use of words... Much like the albino's dilemma discussed before the last line break/slight subplot with Poland and Lithuania, the answer is staring him (quite literally seeing as how he is in the solution's designated room): music! He will write her a song describing his love for her, set up a meeting with Germany at the Beilschmidt's haus, bring her: flowers, a cake that he's going to bake for her (which will have as much chocolate, sugar, and butter as possible), and his violin. He will then find her, play her the song and all will be well. Yes, Mozart himself would be awed by such a plan. Except Mozart would question Prussia's ability and aptitude to discern such a message from a composition. However, Wolfgang didn't know Julchen like Roderich does. Underneath her love for that debauchery of a "genre," ("Home Music," was it? I'm rather sure that's what it's caused by those youths. He thinks to himself as he lets out an involuntary shudder at the thought.); he still can't get that blasted "Disco Pogo" song out of his head, there lies a secret appreciation for classical music that only he knows about. This knowledge leaves him with a dreamy, self-satisfied smile on his face. Shaking the dopey expression off of his face, Austria quickly scrambles to find some staff paper and a pencil. Finding his aforementioned weapons of choice, he then goes to work, revealing his most intimate feelings through the composition of song on a page.