HETALIA KINK MEME PART 2

Jan 03, 2009 03:13


axis powers
hetalia kink meme
part 2

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red. [1/2] anonymous January 8 2009, 07:21:51 UTC
"I'm so glad to see you."

Yao raises an eyebrow, and winces from even such a miniscule gesture. He is seconds away from dropping out of sheer exhaustion, he knows; and he knows that Ivan knows, and facing the other man now, he expects only the worst.

He does not expect the tender gesture with which Ivan closes the distance between them with two long strides and brushes back his dirty hair, matted with sweat and mud and blood; does not expect to be handled so gently when Ivan's steady hands defied the forces of gravity acting inexorably upon his leaden knees; does not expect to be cradled like a fragile doll. It wounds his pride, but no amount of pride can keep his eyes open, and before finally slipping into blissful unconsciousness with his head snug against Ivan's shoulder, Yao decides that this must be a trap. He feels slightly more assured by that prospect, even as he slips under: nothing good will come of this outpouring of camaraderie, but whatever is to come cannot be worse than what has already come to pass.

When he blinks back into the land of the living, the first thing Yao notices is a strange absence of pain - or perhaps not absence entirely, because the bone-deep ache still is there on a more peripheral level of his consciousness, but it no longer paints black spots at the edges of his vision and makes each breath torturous. Only then does he notice that: his dirty clothes, which have long since felt caked on and rock hard with grime, are gone; he is in a Spartan bathroom that nevertheless feels palatial after the past godknowshowlong; and he cannot remember the last time he has taken a bath.

He holds his breath and ducks under water, the deliciously hot water. He considers letting go, contemplates for a fleeting instant never surfacing again. It would be so easy; it would be what all of them wants, all those hateful beggars at the feast who would lay claim to his carcass before he even drew his last breath. He indulges in the thought only for that instant, though; Yao berates himself for the moment of weakness and climbs out of the bathtub. The water he leaves behind is coppery red. On the door to the bathroom lies a bedroom, which is only logical. Ivan is bent over the narrow bed, humming a song to himself.

Yao looks a sight, he knows, standing in the patch of sunlight and wrapped in only a towel, hand on the door's frame, still and silent, waiting, waiting for Ivan to turn around. Despite everything that has transpired over the last fifty years, Yao knows, he is still desired. What a word, "desire" - he thinks it a strange and dangerous thing.

Ivan turns to him finally with the sunniest of smiles, and puts into his arms a pile of clothes, freshly laundered and still warm. "I think they'll fit." Yao can only stare blankly up at him and, after an almost too long moment of eye contact, nod his thanks, and turns away to maintain some small bit of dignity.

It's too much to expect a bit of privacy in the other man's own house, and as of late Yao has grown too accustomed to not expecting anything. Still, he cannot suppress a small thrill of vindication as Ivan's breath audibly hitches; the scarring all over his body is extensive and expansive, and he does not need to voice the accusation - your hands held the knife that carved into me as well.

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red. [2/2] anonymous January 8 2009, 07:22:57 UTC
"Beautiful."

"Is it?"

"You are."

"My scars, you mean. Aigun, Tientsin, Peking, the Li-Lobanov, the Boxer Protocol-" he pulls the folds of his shirt tight around his shoulder, hiding the latticework that would never entirely fade (good: he doesn't want them to) and turning to Ivan with stony eyes, "-I do not forget, all that all of you have done - yes, your precious Romanovs too, who so sadly lost their mandate. Did it hurt, your Bloody Sunday, your Revolution?"

He is, in a way, begging for it, the set line of his jaw making it clear that Yao expects to be struck at any moment, would have been prepared for a blow, a slap, being sent flying across the room to crumble into a heap (again). But Ivan just smiles that uncannily genuine smile, and so he presses on, lightheaded and intoxicated by the cruelty of his own tongue. "I think it must have hurt. Mine did."

Ivan only smiles, puts a hand gently on his shoulder to turn him around, and kisses him, all deceptively sweet and chaste. "Things have changed. Join me. I promise: things will be better."

Like hell, Yao thinks, as Ivan's long fingers curl around the jagged edges of his roughly hewn hair, where Kiku had hacked off his braid in one smooth move, never meeting his eyes, and then proceeded to bring Yao to his knees with brutal efficiency. Look at me, Yao had silently willed, hands clutching at the wound between his ribs, the blood that gushed forth from Nanking; look at me, my once-upon-a-time little brother - acknowledge this, acknowledge what you are doing, to whom you are doing it. Don't you dare distance yourself from your crime.

"He did this."

Yao's throat suddenly constricts. It is the matter of fact tone more than anything else that winds him. He did this, he did this to me. And he did not once meet my eyes.

"Never mind. We will return your Northeast to you. You're still beautiful, but incomplete without it," Ivan says in his singsong voice, hands sliding downwards to do up the buttons of Yao's shirt before finally resting on the small of his back, pulling him close. Yao shakes his head, then nods, just to feel the lightness of his head once more. Almost a decade has passed and it still feels strange, and he has no plans on getting used to the feeling. There will be a reckoning.

And so for the time being he lets Ivan hold him, recuperates and gains strength with his help, sleeps with his eyes open at night, and dreams in black and white and red.

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 8 2009, 16:25:05 UTC
Oh gosh, this is so beautiful. I love your China, he completely amazes me. Not OP, but very very thankful to have been able to read this.

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 8 2009, 16:41:16 UTC
Also not OP but oh, wow. I second the other anon. Your imagery is wonderful and your China is so much love.

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 8 2009, 18:40:55 UTC
I third; this is truly a thing of beauty. Their relationship is so complex and it allows for certain moments of strange intimacy that don't quite work the same with others. ♥

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 11 2009, 17:27:33 UTC
that is a really wonderful way of putting it, anon, this strange intimacy is exactly why I love Russia/China so much ♥

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 9 2009, 01:01:51 UTC
"Beautiful."

"Is it?"

"You are."

Lovely, lovely writing. I especially liked how you portrayed China in this.

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OP... anonymous January 9 2009, 02:57:28 UTC
... is dead. So, so dead. Oh my God, this is absolutely stunning and the imagery of the loss of China's queue paralleling the loss of his land, and all the red and dkjghkdfjghdkfjhg. THANK YOU, AUTHOR!ANON.

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 11 2009, 00:54:26 UTC
Good lord anon. This. This. I love your China. I love your Russia. I love the biting baiting that goes on from one to the other. And with absentee Japan too, you paint such a bitter picture. ♥ Utterly beautiful.

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous January 13 2009, 16:50:54 UTC
ditto to all of the above - such wonderful imagery, anon loves your China

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Re: red. [2/2] anonymous February 17 2009, 09:07:13 UTC
This is...damn, anon, I have never shipped Russia/China before but you make it so damn good. I love both of them so much in this fic. Seriously. Fantastic piece of work.

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