Verbindlich
Title: Verbindlich (Binding)
Author: LietInStripes (me)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Prussia x Belgium
Author's Notes: Pretty sure Hetalia needs more hetero. This is one of my favorite hetero pairings in Hetalia. I adore it so much. This fic was written on a whim, and I think I have a sick fascination with Prussia being hung. I blame the kink meme.../////;; X-posted to journal, Heta LJ Comm, and the Prussia x Belgium comm. Sorry if you see it multiple times. n un;;
Summary: Prussia has a weird tendency of wearing dog collars and scarves, a tendency that has piqued Belgium's interest. One night, as Prussia lay sleeping beside her, she decides to investigate the situation on her own. Only Prussia wakes up, and what she learns makes her even more thankful for what she has.
Thin fingers prodded curiously at the dog collar around Gilbert’s neck. It was black, made out of thick leather. Gilbert lay sleeping as the fingers twisted the collar around, bringing the buckle towards the front. The leather slipped through the buckle easily enough, the collar ready to fold open like a book. Before it had a chance, Gilbert’s own fingers shot up just in time to keep the piece in place.
“What’re you doing, Belgium?” he questioned, a small yawn escaping his lips as he sat up.
Green eyes widened, surprised that she had been caught. The blond opened her mouth to speak, to mutter anything as to why she was doing it, but nothing seemed to come out. So she closed her mouth, glancing down. A pink dust spread across her cheeks, barely visible in dim moonlight that snuck in the room through the slit in the curtains.
Prussia twisted to face her. One hand still held onto the unbuckled collar. Sleepy red eyes searched out Belgium’s face, as though looking for answers. Her own eyes glanced back, seeming to do the same.
“You’re wondering about the collar, aren’t you?”
Glancing down at the collar, she nodded.
“Well you shouldn’t,” She glanced back up to his face almost immediately as he said that, but he continued all the same, “I mean, it’s nothing serious. You shouldn’t worry about me. I’m the awesome me after all!” He finished with a tired smirk that never truly reached his eyes, like it was painted onto his face and not truly felt. It left Belgium even more curious.
“But Gilbert, I haven’t seen your bare neck since we’ve been together,” she stated, just above a defeated whisper, “You’re always wearing collars, or scarves, or anything really to cover it. And I don’t understand it. What are you hiding from me?”
“It’s nothing, Bel,” he replied, twisting the leather back into place, “You’re worrying your pretty little face for nothing.” Another painted smirk spread across his lips before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She allowed his lips to linger briefly, and as they pulled apart, Gilbert caught sight of the look in her eyes. It was as though she were pouting, emerald eyes downcast. And as much as he didn’t want to tell, as much as he would have rather the subject never come up at all, a warrior knew when he was defeated. And by the look in her eyes, he knew he was defeated, brought down right where he sat. It still surprised him what she could do to him without even meaning to.
“Fine, I’ll show you,” he muttered, “Damn, Bel. How do you manage to take down even me?”
Before she could reply, the leather was being pulled away from his neck. There was a moment of hesitance where his fingers lingered and held the collar unfastened to his neck. Belgium reached up with unsure fingers and put her hands on top of his. Together, they pulled the collar away from his neck. Gilbert’s gaze turned towards the window as Belgium stared at what laid beneath the leather.
Beneath the collar was a scar that ran horizontally across his neck. It was long and thick, the skin still looked raw, as though something had been violently drug across his neck. The female nation stared forward at it. Her fingers hovered near the other’s neck as though she were deciding whether or not to touch it. Her eyes were fixated on the disfiguring mark, while Gilbert’s gaze was still unfocused.
“Piano wire.”
Belgium raised an eyebrow when Gilbert finally spoke. Her mouth slipped open, ready to reply, but she wasn’t given a chance.
“Those damned Allies…They decided that I was the reason my little brother kept going to war…Bull-shit, right?” Belgium decided she agreed. It wasn’t fair, though she couldn’t see how Francis would agree to killing Gilbert. She guessed they weren’t called bad friends for nothing.
“So they…they hung me, you know? Piano wire.” She had known that Prussia had been forcefully dissolved. But the method of which the Allies had used, the method which Ludwig had grudgingly went with, had been kept secret. A neutral nation such as herself was told she didn’t need to worry about the details of it. But suddenly, the image became too real for the blond. She stared down at the sheets beneath them and tried to push the thoughts away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of his body jerking as the ground fell away, of his face turning as red as his eyes, those same eyes she loved staring into finally falling closed as the heartbeat she could fall asleep listening to ceased for what they thought would be the final time. The image made her sick, made the back of her throat burn and the backs of her eyes sting.
She lunged forwards, arms wrapping around the others waist, face nuzzling against a hip bone. Her arms were clutching to him, if not only to prove that he was still there. That there was still those eyes she loved and that melodic heartbeat. Gilbert found it hard to continue, and it felt strange to him because he was always one to talk. He ran his fingers through her hair idly, until finally she gathered herself enough to sit back up. “That’s why I didn’t want to show you,” the Prussian muttered.
Belgium wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head. “It’s a sign of strength, you know?” she whispered, eyes suddenly very clear and voice steady, “Shows that nothing and nobody can keep you down. It shows that even though your nation dissolved, you still have your people. National pride…that’s what keeps you here. Even if you don‘t have the land, you still have them…”
“Of course,” he replied, a true smirk spreading across his face, “Did you really think they could stop the awesomeness that is me?” Though the smirk was there, Belgium thought she could still hear a bit of unsure feelings laying beneath the usual conceit. But she laughed with him all the same, just thankful that the laughter was still there at all.
And she was grateful even still when he leaned forward to kiss her, her hand splaying over his bare chest to feel the heartbeat that even death couldn’t stop. Growing braver still, the blond kissed down to his neck, lips lingering over the mark that history had so brutally left upon him.
The kiss was chaste, and shortly after Gilbert tilted her head upwards to kiss her lips once again; a kiss she accepted happily. She also allowed him to pull her back into a laying position, her head resting against his chest. His arms snaked around her, holding her close against him, and she nuzzled against him, sighing contently.
Maybe one day she would think back to what he told her and be angry. Angry at the Allies for doing such a heinous act. Angry at Germany for accepting it to happen in the first place. Angry at the world, at herself, for not trying to stop it. And maybe one day Gilbert wouldn’t wear the scarves or collars anymore. But those days didn’t matter right now. Belgium had Prussia, who may not have been a nation anymore, but was still there, and she loved him all the same.
Author: LietInStripes (me)
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Prussia x Belgium
Author's Notes: Pretty sure Hetalia needs more hetero. This is one of my favorite hetero pairings in Hetalia. I adore it so much. This fic was written on a whim, and I think I have a sick fascination with Prussia being hung. I blame the kink meme.../////;; X-posted to journal, Heta LJ Comm, and the Prussia x Belgium comm. Sorry if you see it multiple times. n un;;
Summary: Prussia has a weird tendency of wearing dog collars and scarves, a tendency that has piqued Belgium's interest. One night, as Prussia lay sleeping beside her, she decides to investigate the situation on her own. Only Prussia wakes up, and what she learns makes her even more thankful for what she has.
Thin fingers prodded curiously at the dog collar around Gilbert’s neck. It was black, made out of thick leather. Gilbert lay sleeping as the fingers twisted the collar around, bringing the buckle towards the front. The leather slipped through the buckle easily enough, the collar ready to fold open like a book. Before it had a chance, Gilbert’s own fingers shot up just in time to keep the piece in place.
“What’re you doing, Belgium?” he questioned, a small yawn escaping his lips as he sat up.
Green eyes widened, surprised that she had been caught. The blond opened her mouth to speak, to mutter anything as to why she was doing it, but nothing seemed to come out. So she closed her mouth, glancing down. A pink dust spread across her cheeks, barely visible in dim moonlight that snuck in the room through the slit in the curtains.
Prussia twisted to face her. One hand still held onto the unbuckled collar. Sleepy red eyes searched out Belgium’s face, as though looking for answers. Her own eyes glanced back, seeming to do the same.
“You’re wondering about the collar, aren’t you?”
Glancing down at the collar, she nodded.
“Well you shouldn’t,” She glanced back up to his face almost immediately as he said that, but he continued all the same, “I mean, it’s nothing serious. You shouldn’t worry about me. I’m the awesome me after all!” He finished with a tired smirk that never truly reached his eyes, like it was painted onto his face and not truly felt. It left Belgium even more curious.
“But Gilbert, I haven’t seen your bare neck since we’ve been together,” she stated, just above a defeated whisper, “You’re always wearing collars, or scarves, or anything really to cover it. And I don’t understand it. What are you hiding from me?”
“It’s nothing, Bel,” he replied, twisting the leather back into place, “You’re worrying your pretty little face for nothing.” Another painted smirk spread across his lips before he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She allowed his lips to linger briefly, and as they pulled apart, Gilbert caught sight of the look in her eyes. It was as though she were pouting, emerald eyes downcast. And as much as he didn’t want to tell, as much as he would have rather the subject never come up at all, a warrior knew when he was defeated. And by the look in her eyes, he knew he was defeated, brought down right where he sat. It still surprised him what she could do to him without even meaning to.
“Fine, I’ll show you,” he muttered, “Damn, Bel. How do you manage to take down even me?”
Before she could reply, the leather was being pulled away from his neck. There was a moment of hesitance where his fingers lingered and held the collar unfastened to his neck. Belgium reached up with unsure fingers and put her hands on top of his. Together, they pulled the collar away from his neck. Gilbert’s gaze turned towards the window as Belgium stared at what laid beneath the leather.
Beneath the collar was a scar that ran horizontally across his neck. It was long and thick, the skin still looked raw, as though something had been violently drug across his neck. The female nation stared forward at it. Her fingers hovered near the other’s neck as though she were deciding whether or not to touch it. Her eyes were fixated on the disfiguring mark, while Gilbert’s gaze was still unfocused.
“Piano wire.”
Belgium raised an eyebrow when Gilbert finally spoke. Her mouth slipped open, ready to reply, but she wasn’t given a chance.
“Those damned Allies…They decided that I was the reason my little brother kept going to war…Bull-shit, right?” Belgium decided she agreed. It wasn’t fair, though she couldn’t see how Francis would agree to killing Gilbert. She guessed they weren’t called bad friends for nothing.
“So they…they hung me, you know? Piano wire.” She had known that Prussia had been forcefully dissolved. But the method of which the Allies had used, the method which Ludwig had grudgingly went with, had been kept secret. A neutral nation such as herself was told she didn’t need to worry about the details of it. But suddenly, the image became too real for the blond. She stared down at the sheets beneath them and tried to push the thoughts away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of his body jerking as the ground fell away, of his face turning as red as his eyes, those same eyes she loved staring into finally falling closed as the heartbeat she could fall asleep listening to ceased for what they thought would be the final time. The image made her sick, made the back of her throat burn and the backs of her eyes sting.
She lunged forwards, arms wrapping around the others waist, face nuzzling against a hip bone. Her arms were clutching to him, if not only to prove that he was still there. That there was still those eyes she loved and that melodic heartbeat. Gilbert found it hard to continue, and it felt strange to him because he was always one to talk. He ran his fingers through her hair idly, until finally she gathered herself enough to sit back up. “That’s why I didn’t want to show you,” the Prussian muttered.
Belgium wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and shook her head. “It’s a sign of strength, you know?” she whispered, eyes suddenly very clear and voice steady, “Shows that nothing and nobody can keep you down. It shows that even though your nation dissolved, you still have your people. National pride…that’s what keeps you here. Even if you don‘t have the land, you still have them…”
“Of course,” he replied, a true smirk spreading across his face, “Did you really think they could stop the awesomeness that is me?” Though the smirk was there, Belgium thought she could still hear a bit of unsure feelings laying beneath the usual conceit. But she laughed with him all the same, just thankful that the laughter was still there at all.
And she was grateful even still when he leaned forward to kiss her, her hand splaying over his bare chest to feel the heartbeat that even death couldn’t stop. Growing braver still, the blond kissed down to his neck, lips lingering over the mark that history had so brutally left upon him.
The kiss was chaste, and shortly after Gilbert tilted her head upwards to kiss her lips once again; a kiss she accepted happily. She also allowed him to pull her back into a laying position, her head resting against his chest. His arms snaked around her, holding her close against him, and she nuzzled against him, sighing contently.
Maybe one day she would think back to what he told her and be angry. Angry at the Allies for doing such a heinous act. Angry at Germany for accepting it to happen in the first place. Angry at the world, at herself, for not trying to stop it. And maybe one day Gilbert wouldn’t wear the scarves or collars anymore. But those days didn’t matter right now. Belgium had Prussia, who may not have been a nation anymore, but was still there, and she loved him all the same.