Russia x Reader - Proposals

The Russian sighed as he played with the silver band. He would do it, today. He would finally propose to his little sunflower, that much he was sure of. But, the question that continued to linger at the back of his mind was a simple yet annoying one: how?

He loved (name), of that there was no doubt. Countless times he had made sure (name) knew and he knew that she loved him just as much. As such, he wanted to make this the best day ever. But he wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t as suave as Rodrich, the Austrian, confident as that annoying German, Gilbert, or amorous as Francis, that flashy Frenchman at work. It’s not to say that Ivan had no redeeming points, he just wasn’t very good with the whole ‘lovey-dovey’ thing.

The problems kept increasing and for a moment Ivan actually wondered if he could do it. Who could he turn to? His sister, Katyusha? Maybe Natalia? Ivan had no real friends of his own, so his family were his only option. Then again, neither of his sisters would be much help and frankly Ivan was a little scared of Natalia.

Sighing, Ivan pocketed the ring and continued to listen to the brash American scream his opinions. He would figure this out later.

.

.

.

After the tiring meeting was over and everyone was reminded how pointless it was, Ivan began to hunt for someone, anyone, to talk to about his predicament. It seemed he found someone!

Ah… it was the American. Sucking up his pride, Ivan made his way towards Alfred, sending him one of his sweetest, forced smiles.

“Alfred, I have a question to ask.”

“What is it dude? I’m a little busy.” the blond clearly did not want to deal with the Russian right now, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“I want to propose to my sunflower. How?”

Alfred sighed,

“I dunno. Give her flowers or something. Do I look like a married man?”

“Flowers? Just that?” Ivan pressed, confused at how simple a task it would be.

“Take her to McD’s then. That’s what I would do.” with a bored glance Alfred huffed a loud, “Do you mind? I have business with someone.”

‘When did burgers become people?’ Ivan asked himself as he trudged away, unhappy with the answer he received. Searching around for someone else to ask, he saw the blond Englishman, Arthur, the one who always fought and screamed for no reason.

“Arthur! I am needing your help!”

“Ivan? What is it?” the Englishman’s emerald eyes widened slightly, hints of fear showing.

“I want to propose to my sunflower, how do I do it?”

“Well… umm…” there was an awkward silence as the shorter blond before Ivan racked his brain for a suitable answer. “Ah! How about asking someone else?”

“What?” Ivan asked, confused.

“I have loads of work to do! Good luck Ivan!” And with that, Ivan was left to stand in the hallway alone, wondering what had just happened.

Sighing, the Russian was just about to give up hope when he saw someone he knew could help. Standing by one of the pillars, flirting with a maid stood Francis. With long, easy strides, Ivan was next to the flirtatious Frenchman in a matter of moments. Francis more than jolted when Ivan put a large hand on his shoulder and the maid quickly bowed and ran, scared out of her wits.

“What was the big idea- Ivan!” Francis’s annoyed tone turned into a more surprised one, “W-what is it? Forgot some paperwork?”

“No.” Ivan replied stiffly, “I have a question to ask. May I?”

“I-I’m a bit busy right now… maybe later?” Francis tried to wriggle away from the larger male but Ivan’s stronghold kept him in place.

“Later is not an option. Cancel your plans.” Ivan practically ordered.

“Canceled! Canceled! What is it you need?”

“I am having a problem. You will help me?” Ivan inquired, once more a command, his lilac eyes boring holes, Francis nodded his head quickly, “Good. I want to propose to my sunflower. But I cannot.”

“Eh? Propose? Like for marriage?” the blond was more than caught off-guard. Who would marry Ivan!?

“Yes for marriage, why? Do you propose for other things?”

“No, no, anyway, why can’t you?” Ivan had let go of his shoulder now, his expression turning a bit meek.

“I do not know how to.” he admitted, “I want to make my (name) happy. You are good at this stuff, yes? You will help me, won’t you?”

“Ivan…” Francis was at a loss for words. Ivan Braginsky, the biggest, scariest, most anti-social (well he seemed anti-social, poor guy just couldn’t make any friends) person he had ever seen had someone he loved and wanted to propose to. A fire of determination shone in Francis’s eyes as he declared, “Don’t worry, you poor, misguided creature, big-brother France will help you!”

Ivan’s mood finally lifted, he had been right in trusting Francis with this! Just as Francis was about to dive into a complicated but no doubt romantic plan, someone came and dragged him away by his collar. She looked like an angry she-devil, constantly cursing and screaming at him as she pulled him away and out of the building.

Ivan simply stood and blinked. His only hope… had been dragged away.

.

.

.

When (name) had returned home, she had expected to see Ivan waiting to greet her, that’s how it normally was. Except… he was no where to be found. After calling his name a few times, (name) wondered if he was sleeping. He often complained about how stressful his meetings were.

Cautiously, she entered their shared bedroom and whispered the Russian’s name. When no reply came, she flicked the room light on and saw to her utter shock a small box and note on her side of the bed. Taking slow, careful strides, she picked up the note and read the three words written in a form she knew belonged to Ivan.

“ Become one, da? ”

When she opened the velvet box, she found it empty but she understood. Dropping the box and note on the bed, the (h/c)ette ran out of their bedroom and straight into his study. Flinging the wooden door open, she saw her silvery-blond haired Russian kneeling with a ring in his hands.

“I am sorry it could not be more romantic…” Ivan muttered, a blush coating his fair cheeks, “But, (first name) (last name), will you marry me?”

Nodding her head like crazy, the girl practically pounced upon him, tears streaming down her face as she repeated that she would.

.

.

.

“So, how did it go?” a bruised Francis asked Ivan the next day.