Drabble dump. The first few of these I've been sitting on for a while, so I'm sorry if they're rather crap, haha. why am I even posting these Thank you to sakebi and lilichen for putting up with me reading over most of these for me. ♥


Title: And Me I Will Not Write It Off Not Ever Having Tried
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Prussia, Belarus
Rating: Slight R? idk
Summary: Prussia tries to get to Belarus. It doesn't work quite well.

Prussia wasn't quite sure why he was doing this. Why he had this woman wrapped up in his arms, all bundled in petticoats and lace and bruises still fresh on her skin.

He kept singing in his head that he hated her, hated her flesh, hated the blood that flowed through her veins - hated her and her brother and all the dark little things they had created in his crumbling world.

But here they were, her hands tied, his face close to hers, their breathing growing more and more erratic. This wasn't pity, this wasn't hate, it probably wasn't even lust. Fuck, Prussia didn't know what the hell it was, but he couldn't take his hands off her or his eyes away from her pale form before him. He couldn't keep that grin off his face, or that sound of his pulse (or maybe it was hers? he wondered) as it rushed inside his ears.

He couldn't even feel the cold, or the bitter sensation of flesh on flesh, as they stripped down. She was all pale and cold and snow, and he could suddenly understand why he hadn't tried this before as her knife sank into his side. He didn't remember much more than that, other than waking up in the morning and understanding why he had a knife wound on his side.

He didn't try again after that.

Title: Your Legs Are No Longer (But You Walk Just The Same)
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Belarus
Rating: PG
Summary: She was still as pure as her name, but not her skin.

Beauty. Always beautiful. Always the envy of her siblings, always the one with the long pale hair that shone like the snow and fluttered like a warm wind. She was the one called fair, the one called the paradise, the one her siblings sighed and fretted over. Not her sister with her golden fields and warmth and sun, nor her brother with his fair hair and fairer eyes and expansive lands. No. She was the one that was the beauty.

Perhaps that was why she was so cursed. Maybe that was why her people thought her to be. Why so many, so many stronger nations and people and swords kept coming to tear her lands apart. Why so many people had died and spilled that blood all over her skin and delicate hands. Why the men from the north came, why the men from the south came, why the men from all around her came to beat her and take her lands. Maybe it was why her brother was at her back, and why that fool next door could not stop his hands from grabbing and holding her back all the more.

Still, why was she such beauty, such paradise, if she had that many scars on her skin? Soon, it was only her people who called her that, only her people that still cooed at her skin and called her pale and fair and everything blessed. She no longer heard those praises from her neighbors, no longer from the lips of her brother, no longer from the hushed promises of her sister.

She was still untaken, still blessed for her wedding bed, but no one would want to see her body after what time had done to her. She was scars and cuts and broken pieces of bone still cutting through flesh and muscle. She was hardly a paradise - just a piece of land that people clung to and was always always in the way.

Her only comfort was that she could still keep her hair down, unlike Ukraine's many braids.

Title: In The Picture In Your Head
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Romano, Spain
Rating: PG
Summary: Romano hated sleeping next to Spain.
Note: Thank you lilichen for helping me with the Spanish alskjf. ♥

Romano always hated sleeping next to Spain. Spain was all awkward limbs and mumblings (and Romano knew he was as well, but like he'd admit that) and constant movement and sighs. For a man who slept so much, you'd think he'd sleep like the dead. Instead, Spain just moved and talked and took up the bed and covers - unless it was hot and then he just kicked it all off.

But, it wasn't really the moving or the lack of covers that kept Romano from sleeping well in the elder's bed. No, it was the mumblings. At first, when Romano was young and Spain would still cradle him (remarkably still in comparison), he just thought it was useless drivel. But, as he aged and he began to finally stay up and listen, he knew what kept Spain turning and tossing all night.

Romano knew Spain didn't dwell on his past, he kept it to himself, kept the broken bones and the broken smiles of Romano's youth out of sight and out of mind. Spain was like that, and Spain always had been. But it didn't mean he didn't dream about it.

He was mumbling pleas, he was mumbling half forgotten prayers and hymns to God - cursing his enemies and moving his hands against some unseen force and unseen foe. He was all shakes and twists and "dios mio ¿qué yo ha hecho?" to someone that wasn't ever there to begin with.

Romano had taken to cradling him instead, trying to pat him awkwardly on the back and try to forget just why Spain would mumble and turn in his arms. He'd think of sunshine and tomatoes and stupid smiles and old wine fields - and try to whisper those memories into the man's ear and hope that he would eventually still.

Romano would wonder what Spain's mind turned to when he wasn't there, if he didn't whisper about tomatoes enough to make him sick of the fruit or tell the bastard to shut up and sleep in peace. He remembered times when he was small and would see him, sipping drinks and looking at the moon with bags under his eyes. If sleep made the man so weary, he knew why Spain kept himself under so often.

So, yes. Romano did not like sleeping next to Spain most nights. Still, he did, even if only to mumble back.

Title: Need You By My Side
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Hungary, Austria. Mentions of Prussia and Russia.
Rating: PG
Summary: Hungary had grown used to Austria by her side.
Note: Written for mccarthyism. ♥

It was tiring, being separated. She had grown used to his house, his scent, waking up next to him in the morning and watching him smile just as faint as the sun across his room. She had grown used to his stuffiness, the prim way he would stand, the shy way he would hold her hand and send her flowers. She was used to the way he would play the piano, no matter his mood, and the way he would lose himself just as readily to her as he would his music. She grew used to that laugh and the simple way he just was, and the way he had softened and had softened her.

But most of all, she was used to a wedding band around her finger, and a hand interwoven through hers. They had promised to stay together, to stay beside each other forever. Now, she was alone, stuck behind a wall and a thickening curtain.

It made her sick, listening to the voice of the man-child who kept her here. She revolted, she grew just as angry as she could, just as frustrated and hurt as those barriers around her would let her. Russia didn't want to let her out, didn't want to let her see the man was just out of her reach. (Prussia was the only company she could even stand, and that was giving him quite the one-up.) She'd frown and grumble, she'd count her days and wait in time. She was a fighter, no matter what anyone told her, no matter what people tried to make her into or who tried to keep her down. She and her people would fight. They always had. No one would hold her forever, no one could hold her forever - not unless she wanted it.

So, her biggest revolt, her biggest stand against that metal curtain and tightening bars was to let him back into her house. To open her door and stand there with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eyes as he stood there all flustered and nervous (as if this was their first date and not the meeting of old friends and lovers that it was).

He couldn't promise her a ring again, nor that place by his side like he had so many years before, but it was fine. She was herself again, and a strip of gold on her finger did not diminish the years they had or the time they spent together. He had bended for her, she could bend for him.

So, she laughed and smiled as he kissed her, held her close and kept that old promise to stay by her side. He smiled and blushed, that coy look on his face as he played his piano and she sang along, watching as that curtain tumbled around them and the world finally felt a lot more open and free. It wasn't like the old times, and it probably never would again. But still, it was always good to have him by her side.

Title: Rooted To The Place That You Spring From
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Ukraine, mentions of Belarus and Russia.
Rating: PG
Summary: Ukraine can still remember the olden days, and still clings to them.
Note: Written for lilichen. ♥

She can still remember when they were just cities and no borders, just lands that expanded as far as they thought they could and with fingers still locked together for dear life. She can still remember how small they were, how they held each other against the cold and against the darkness that surrounded them. She can still remember her brother's laugh and her sister's quiet mumblings, and she can still remember when her tears were just worries and happiness, not sobs that wracked her body with pain.

She can still remember when she had the wind in her hair, and when she first rode a horse against her plains, no matter how unwomanly or unlike her it seemed. She can still remember the way her cities rose against the high sky and the way her people grew and changed and laughed in her still young arms. She can still remember being the strong one, being the one that protected them and her siblings and all those she could hold in her little arms. She can still remember when the men from the north were kind (or at least kinder) and the rest of the world seemed so strange and far off from their little home in the fields.

She can still remember the way the wheat felt on her hands when she first felt it grow in her hands, and can still remember the way the sky looked so so blue against the endless field of yellow suns. She can still remember smiling and laughing and being simple and carefree, just like the dust on her roads and the breeze in the summer and the warmth of her hands against two smaller ones. She can still remember wishing for it to last forever and feeling that hope and pure love in her heart against even the coldest of winter skies.

She focuses on that, not the mud that her cities became, or the ash and smoke that filled her lungs, or the hands that pulled at her and her hair. She focuses on her siblings in the flower fields and the wind in her hair, not the cuts and scars and bruises on her back and everywhere, everywhere else. She focuses on the time when her little brother actually smiled, and didn't look like something was still tugging on his heart and mind every single waking moment that he had. She focuses on the time when her sister was tiny clutching hands and soft gentle murmurs, and not knives and cold and ice just like the way her eyes have grown.

She focuses on those old, old memories of sun and warmth, and not of the chaos that her mind has become. She focuses on that, and not politics and petty things, not the call of the west or the insistent voice of her little brother. She focuses on swatches of orange against her blue sky and tries to think of how it reminds her of seeing wheat and sunflowers and joy against blue, just like that flag she holds against her heart. She focuses on older days, and tries to let herself move through these new ones, however hard. If she can still remember, if she can still focus on that, then surely, surely, the rest of her little world can as well.

Title: I'll Be Your Harvester Of Light
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character/Pairing: Canada, Ukraine
Rating: PG
Summary: Canada falls for Ukraine, and she falls the same way for him.

She was golden suns and golden fields and hair the colour of her wheat. Her smile could light up any room and her hands were as warm as the earth that she toiled.

He fell in love at first sight.

He couldn't help but act like a schoolboy with a crush, to feel the heat light up his face and feel his heart beat faster than any train on his back. She would just laugh and sigh and hold his hand, her touch innocent and her eyes brighter than any sky he had ever seen.

He couldn't even believe his heart when she told him that she had fallen in love at first sight as well.

He could not believe she was in awe of him. How could she be? He was quiet, he was dull, he was dull warmth and dull skies and great expanses of cold and snow at times. His brother was the one that others noticed, his fathers were the ones that had ruled the world.

But to her, he was golden fields and hints of cold and warm breath, and he reminded her of home and love. He was her saviour, he was her secret hero. He was taking her children, and she could only love him more. Even if he caged her, even if he turned from her at times, he was the one that had held her hand, and she loved him for it. She loved him.

He had turned redder than a sunrise, even as she pressed her lips against his.

He was even more in awe of her then, as she shed her winter skin and they shared intimacy he never would've dreamed of. And still, even with the faint marks of time on her skin, and the imperfections and cuts he could see so clearly on her now, he could not help but be in awe of her.

She was golden wheat and golden sun and the bluest of skies above, and he was the same to her.