So, uh. I wrote. A lot. For a meme. So, uh. Have a massive post? And amazingly, the Hetalia fic is not me fagging over some historical event or something like that for once. /hit Sorry that these are kind crap. :X;


Title: Lead Me Unto the Night
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: America, Belarus.
Rating: PG
Summary: America and Belarus do not usually share such a moment, but history can change in a night. (Written for tanya_tsuki)

America could not help but smile as he watched Belarus sleep. She was quiet and still - not anger and hate and uncertainties like she was when she awoke. No, at these times, her face was free from all those worries and twisted things he usually saw so etched into her expressions. It was like watching snow melt and seeing the flowers hidden behind the cold, and he always cherished these fleeting moments he had.

It had taken him many a day and night to survive a night by her side - to not have her push and kick and shove him away as he tried to slip in next to her, or even offer the possibility. He had earned it, to see her sleep like this and be calm and comforted by his presence, not on edge and almost waiting for him to jump her. (It had taken many a promise for him to convince her that his attentions were - for once - pure.)

So, there were no promises of knives or screaming or fighting now - just her gentle breath and the warmth of the covers over both of them. He dared to scoot closer to her, drinking in the gentle look on her face and the pale light of the moonlight bouncing off her skin, memorizing her features while he could. Things still were not the best between them, but this was more than he had ever hoped for.

Reaching out one tentative hand, he brushed it as gently as he could against her pale cheek, pulling back some stubborn hair that fell over her face. He stiffened as he saw her eyes flutter open, deep blue meeting his. But, she did not say anything, or try to push him from her side. She only stared, a curious look in her eyes, questioning him silently.

He did not speak either, only smiled at her, receiving her usual frown in return. But, again, she did not move, did not push him from her side, only stared, that same curious look still in her eyes.

With one more smile, America pressed his lips against hers, just as gently as the light was cascading across her face, trying to express that warmth he felt all over his body right now.

And to his surprise, she did not grow rigid like she always seemed to when he kissed her, or push him away. No, she only sighed gently and returned it, leaning into that feeling he knew they were both sharing now.

Perhaps, history could be written not only by their people, their wars, and their changes. Perhaps, it could be changed by what they felt as well he thought, even as he pulled her closer and the night waned on.

Title: Black Matters and Ink
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Estonia, Belarus.
Rating: PG
Summary: A staring match leads to a realization. (Written for unasuvas)

He did not like her much, or she him. They were only neighbors in the loosest sense of the word, and she seemed to make sure he knew that. Perhaps he was lucky - usually she ignored him, or passed him by, even if he dared to speak to Russia. While she would break Lithuania's hands or terrify poor Latvia, she would not even deem him worthy of a response.

Perhaps this is what frustrated him so much.

Even if he did not like her much, why was he so low in her eyes? He was far more talented, especially in recent years, more clever, and more cunning then his brothers. But, no, she would just slip on by each time he even spoke.

So, when one time she did not pass him by, he could nearly feel his heart beat out of his chest. She was glaring at him, and he felt himself return the gesture, but there she was - finally paying him some mind. Finally realizing that he was here too, that he mattered, that he could sit in her mind just like she had sat in his and-

He felt his face flush. Since when had he cared? Why did he care what this woman thought of him? He should be grateful she ignored him, not-

He liked her. He liked her a lot. Oh, he was crushing on her bad, and he could feel how that was just why his heart had sped up, why he had tried so hard to get her eyes to turn his way, why he had been so frustrated that she had ignored him.

He felt like a fool. A very stupid fool.

He could feel himself go a little weak in his knees at the realization, but he stood his ground, trying to keep that glare as steady as she was giving hers. He tried to quell that blush, push the sudden thoughts of how lovely her hair was or how precise she had always been (and something he had always admired in a person).

She looked at him curiously, the glare lessening more into something of a question, but he didn't lessen up. (If she even thought he was weak-)

"H-Hello, Belarus," he said, feeling those nerves work up in his stomach again. (Is this why Lithuania got so tongue-tied around her? He had always thought it was just because she was so intense.)

She stared, not answering for a moment. "Hello."

And with that, she turned to leave, no answer for the glaring match or anything else that had suddenly made his heart and mind crack in two.

He tried to mull over it, wondering what finally caused her eyes to lock on him after being ignored for so long. Perhaps she liked him too now! Or, really, perhaps he had just finally done something to anger her enough to have him be noticed. What was it, though?

Five minutes into his burial of thoughts, Latvia came up, still shaking as always and a nervous smile playing on the corners of his face. "Hello Estonia!" he greeted. "Y-you do know that one of your pens has exploded in your shirt, r-right?"

Oh. He thought.

A fool he was indeed.

Title: Here Comes The First Step (The War Is Over; And We Are Beginning)
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Sweden, Finland.
Rating: PG
Summary: The war is over, but so much has changed for them - including a matter of trust. (Written for lilichen)

It felt like an eternity since he had seen him. So long since he had seen that face, those gentle eyes that always stood beside him.

But, he had forsaken that right - that right to always have him there, always have his presence. No, he had turned away from his friend, his love, what was once (so long ago) his. Some called him a coward, the way he had shut away, and he did not blame them. He had done it to save himself - to save his people and their children and their children - but he had not lent the hand so many had asked for. He had helped in small ways, taken so many in, but - so many knew he had not done all he could have.

It was alright though - he could suffer criticism. He had spent long times alone. But, to have those once gentle eyes staring at him with such distaste was what hurt.

So, he did not deserve this man's company. Or the hand he found intertwined with his - no, he deserved the cold glare he received coupled with the sensation. He deserved the scorn, he felt. At least from this man. No, he did not deserve any semblance of kindness from his old friend, no matter how he longed for it. No matter how much his heart felt like it would beat from his chest with just the simple hand intermixed with his. No matter how much he wanted to take the man and hold him close and apologize for never coming, for being so silent for so long. No matter how he longed for those lips once again.

But, Finland offered him no blows, no promises of anger or distaste. He only showed it through his eyes, as he scrutinized the older man. (It felt so weird to have the tables turned, when Sweden was the one to usually be the cold and Finland the warmth.) He kept that hand intertwined with his, his eyes dancing with that pain of regret and distrust, with all that unhappiness he had felt over the cold and the long war.

Sweden could feel his own body stiffen, even shake (he wondered if this is how others felt when they shook under that glare of his own that so many said was terrifying) - and he clutched onto that hand like it was the only lifeblood he had. "M'sorry," was all he could find himself saying. His voice was scratchy - almost unused for so many a year - but he said it as many times as he could bear. "Sorry." It was all he meant, all he could ever mean, no matter how he could possibly sugarcoat a word or give openhanded promises. All he wanted Finland to know was he was sorry. (And he never wanted him to leave.)

"Well," Finland began, his voice scratchy for an entirely different reason (from yelling and screaming and fighting and not protective silence), and those eyes were once again upon Sweden. "What took you so long?" His own voice crumbled, and that shaky sort of smile was on his face again, stretching into that distaste just hidden beneath his eyes.

Sweden could only stand and stare, his apologies stuck in his throat. Finland smiled a little wider - still nervous, still unsure - and squeezed their intertwined hands.

Sweden smiled in his own way back, clinging onto that touch like a life-raft, full of all the apologies that were stuck, full of all the regret he had for never coming until this moment. Full of the prayers to move on, to make this up to him in whatever way he could.

And Finland kept that smile and gave that hope back, leaning in as gently as he could. They were both nervous, both unsure - although now for so many different reasons - but one thing was sure. "At least," Finland laughed, as they walked with their hands still intertwined, "the war is over."

Title: Up In Our Bedroom After The War (Yes, We're Back Again)
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Sweden, Finland.
Rating: R for sexual implications.
Summary: Sweden had never expected to share his bed again with Finland. Written in tandem with Here Comes The First Step (The War Is Over; And We Are Beginning). (Written for lilichen)

After that night he had left, after he had taken Hanatamago and fled from Finland's side in the small-mindedness of fear, he had never expected to find Finland happy with him ever again. He never expected to see him again, smiling beside him or his company near him. After he had turned away the crying form at his door so many times, he had not expected to find him in his bed ever again.

He had feared he would lose him - either in the war, or by his own actions. He had feared that he had lost him, lost him for good from his life and from his touch. He had expected to face the coming years alone, with a still empty bed and a slowly empty heart. But, instead, there he was, asleep in his arms, naked under the covers and sharing their warmth like they always did.

So, Sweden gave silent prayers of thanks as he brushed gentle hands against bare skin, pressed lips against neck and face, and felt the rumble of a chuckle in his lover's chest. He had never been one for words, but he was lost finding something to say to give thanks for this - for this stolen moment he never thought he'd have ever again. He didn't think they'd be here, even after the war was over, with so much between them he thought he could never cross.

But, Finland was the one to break those thoughts, to take those first steps away from such thoughts. It was Finland who had taken him into his bed, and it was Finland who held his hand and forgave him for everything unspoken. So, the gentle pressure of Finland's lips upon his own was a blessing he'd never thought he'd have again. The cascading laughter as his hands tickled his lover's form and the teasing pleas for release was like a music he thought he'd forgotten.

So, that morning spent interlocked in more ways than one was like a prayer Sweden didn't realize he had given answered. And he spent every grateful moment relaying that to Finland, listening to the gentle gasps of pleasure and moans, and drinking in the skin he thought he'd lost for good. He was careful - careful of both of their wounds (but mostly Finland and that arm that still would bleed). He was careful and revenant, knowing what a fragile thing he held between them now.

Even as he entered him and they once again spent their energy in the other's arms, he prayed to whatever heavens had heard him in thanks for this one more chance. And the gentle sighs and laughter as they awoke from their highs were the highest form of pleasure Sweden had ever experienced. And that gentle hand that intertwined back into his own with the warmest of smiles was more than he could ever ask for.

After all the prayers and blessings and pleasure in the form of gratitude, all Sweden could think was thank goodness the war was over.

Title: If You Promise Not To Fade Away
Series: Tales of Symphonia
Character/Pairing: Lloyd, Colette.
Rating: PG
Summary: It was hard to face her fate, but Lloyd was always there. (Written for queenie_z)

All the prayers in the world could not save her from her fate, she knew. No one person - not even Lloyd - could save her from the slow funeral march she was on. It was something she had always known, always dreaded, but there was one small hope nestled in her heart: Lloyd.

Lloyd was her reason for everything. Oh, the people in her world and her devotion to the goddess was there as well, and no one could ever take that from her. But, Lloyd had given her a reason to do it again, to feel that spark of faith and life. It made her feel like this was her choice, not some faceless act in the name of faith. It made her feel right, it made this devotion she was offering feel like it really came from her heart - as selfish as it was.

So, even though it broke her heart each time he smiled, each time he offered her that hand of his, it also gave her all the strength she would ever need. If it was for him, for this world he lived in, she could suffer through anything this funeral march could throw her way.

What she could not handle was the tears and the fierce hug he gave her that night, that night that realized what was happening to her, even though she had tried so hard to hide it. She couldn't hold back her own tears, or that giant crack that formed in her heart as he sobbed and held her so tight. It was like some broken version of a dream - having him hold her so desperately like this - but she had never wanted him to cry.

So, she kept up those smiles, those broken hearted little thoughts trapped in her head and heart. She would keep those hopes and dreams nestled away in her heart; he didn't need to know. He had given her all she had prayed for that night - the comfort and love of a friend, and the touch of a man she knew she would never have.

As long as Lloyd was there, there and in this world, she could face the fact of her death with grace.

She never expected to find herself in his arms ever again, or to have those prayers for life answered. But she thanked every day she had after her "death" for that chance to be held in his arms again.