literature

Ivan Braginski x Reader

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HipsterStache's avatar
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Literature Text

I sat at the same table. The one farthest from the door, close to the counter, with the long window. Out the window you could see the people on the streets pass by, some chatting with one another, others waltzing by without a gang. Today was a soft morning, not too many people out and about; quiet, with plump snow gliding down to the ground, the really fluffy kind of snow you see in movies. I sat here everyday. And he sat there everyday. Across the diner, sipping the same drink, with the same coat draped across the same opposing chair and with the same book.
He had pale blonde hair that shone a golden tint with the soft warm light of the morning. Broad shoulders with strong arms and large hands. He was built well, not that I was staring at him when he got up or anything. I was studying. He was sturdy and tall like a tree. He caressed the pages of his book as he flipped them.
He sat there and read everyday. He sat there, reading a title that was very familiar to me. Familiar because I had wrote it. A plain black book, hard cover, about 500 some pages. Today it looked as if he was going to finish it.
I turned my neck back to my laptop, I shouldn't stare so much. Besides, I have deadlines. Deadlines that I'm behind on. I begin typing furiously, stopping every now and again to re-read and re-phrase.  Soon I had finished a few solid sentences. With a block of text on my word document I take a breather and crane my neck back to glance at him again. His one hand was steadying the book while the other pressed his brow in thought and concentration. His eyes rapidly scanning the words on the pages. He was nearing the end.
I smile to myself and give a dry chuckle. I try to return to my work, but the man held his position in the back of my thoughts. 'I want to see him finish, I want to see his reaction, just turn around, take a gander'. I give into my temptations and take another gaze behind me. The man had the book shut; he was fumbling with it in between his paw-like hands. Flipping to study the cover and then tossing it to the other side to scan the back. He had a perplexed look scattered on his face, like he had put together the puzzle but in the end he was missing a piece. He opened it once again and gave the pages a good fanning, I could hear the pages stutter as they sprung pass the groves in his thumb. Finally he had shut it one last time and placed it on the table, cover down. He sat back and put his hand to his chin and sat there for a while. Just thinking. Finally, he had smiled to himself, the corners of his mouth inching up in a way that said 'who would have thought'.  I couldn't help but stare at this point. The way his large nose crinkled when he had giggled to himself, his dimples, the way he lounged in his chair with his knees just barely touching the underside of the table.  He gazed at the book then looked up. At this moment our eyes had met from across the room, pale blue to (e/c). He must have felt my gaze on him. He kept his smile, but it had stiffened a bit with an awkward presence. I nearly had a panic attack, he had caught me staring. I fidget under his glace until I finally give a forced grin. His smile brightens a bit with the comfort that I had at least returned his friendly jester, and then he returns his attention to the book. I had already fixated my vision back to my computer screen, flushed red with an awkward embarrassment. I had to refrain and remind myself not to turn around again.
I didn't listen to myself. I turned around once more to watch the handsome man. He was looking over the last few pages, until one had caught his eye. He continued to stare at this page intensely, his stare holding. He looked up once more, but before he could notice me I had turned around and placed my hands on my key board. Trying to look busy I hear his chair slide out. My hands were stiff and jerking about at this moment. 'Oh god. He caught me watching again'. I heard weighted foot steps approaching closer. Now I really tried to look busy, making my hand move around my work space and picking up papers and placing them else where. Anything to make him think I was preoccupied. Anything to maybe ward him off. The thumps of the foot steps had finally come to a halt. I nearly squeaked.
"Hello?"
Russian. The man was Russian. European. I had to hold in a gasp. I take a quick breath before I turn to meet his eyes once more. I gingerly smile and my hands once again start to fidget and twitch with anxiety. He was so gorgeous it was intimidating.
He holds up the book, which was opened to one of the few last pages. The author's profile. There was a picture of me. (h/l) (h/c) and (e/c) eyes. He pointed to my photo and gave a charming smirk. "Would you mind if I sat down with you…" he looks on the front cover of the book and reads off your name. "(f/n) (l/n)?"
for :iconrhinoghost: 's contest

here's the song V/////V -> [link]

My interpretation: I believe the song is about all the coincidences it takes to meet that one special person. That you could meet in a really unlikely situation. And that when that situation comes, you otta make your move and hunt them down because if you don't you may lose that person forever.
So the story I came up with was that two people were connected by a book, the author and the reader. Ivan could have just sat in his seat and let it be, but he decided to take a chance and go up and chat with you.


;U; sorry if it's a little bland. I tried my best~


I don't own hetalia
I do own the writing^^^
© 2013 - 2024 HipsterStache
Comments15
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W0lv35's avatar
This was absolutely wonderful, I loved reading it!