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hetalia2010-02-03 03:02 pm
compos-dementis.livejournal.com) wrote in hetalia2010-02-03 03:02 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Bias, Russia/Lithuania, T
Title: Bias
Author: Dementis
Fandom: APH
Pairing: Russia/Lithuania
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Summary: There is a reason that Lithuania is Russia's favorite.
The first thing he noticed when he woke up, just like he did every morning, was that his legs hurt.
Of course, Russia always made sure never to hit him unless he ‘deserved it’ – sick bastard, sick sick sick, and Toris was shaking and trying to stand on his fractured legs. He’d thought this kind of behavior was for children, marking property, claiming toys as all one’s own, but apparently it was for psychopathic giants as well. He shifted in his chains (a shackle around each ankle, keeping him there, as if he could really leave right now with his legs broken like this) and looked up and around him for the window.
Ah yes, there it was. A small window high up on the wall, but big enough so that if Toris sucked in his stomach, he could probably fit through. There were a few boxes left down here as well so that he could stack them up, climb to get up there and make his escape. He wondered idly if Feliks had noticed his absence yet, and came to the conclusion that even if he had, there was no way Poland could go up against Russia. No way in Heaven and Hell would that ever come out the way Toris wanted it to. Feliks was strong, yes, but not strong enough to take on this kind of brute force.
So. He just had to find his own way out, then. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
Toris’s lip was split and his eye bruised, knee bent awkwardly, but still he stood and shifted and shuffled over to those boxes, trying to straighten them out to make something like stairs. Getting out, he was getting out, no matter what it took. He couldn’t take any more ‘games’ this week.
“What are you doing, Toris?”
Dievas, there was that forcefully cheerful voice, sing-song and smiling like it was a fucking game of house. Toris turned, sending his most heated glare back at the much taller nation, baring his teeth.
“I’m through playing with you, Russia! I need out of here, I need to go home, and if you won’t let me go, I’ll find my own way out of here!” He was panting, voice cracked from screaming so loudly yesterday (Russia had only laughed at the little snapping sounds his knees made when bent the wrong way), but he put force behind it.
Russia raised his eyebrows but his smile didn’t waver. “Oh? You want outside?” He said it like he was speaking to one of the snow dogs, and he came forward down the stairs, into the cellar, reached and took a handful of Toris’s shirt, the nice green one that Feliks had bought for him on his last birthday, telling him it matched his eyes.
“If you’re a good boy, and you play my game by the rules this time, I’ll let you outside for a walk, da?” Russia laughed like a small child. “Oh, but if you misbehave like you did yesterday… tsk, I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you again. I don’t tolerate undisciplined pets.”
“P-pets?” Toris spat the word, reached up took hold of Russia’s wrist, still glaring. “I told you, I’m through playing! I don’t want to play anymore, I want out, you fucking stupid child! Let me go, bastard, let me go! I’ll kill you, I swear to fucking God I’ll kill you!”
Russia’s face darkened suddenly and his free hand lifted up, wielding some kind of… faucet pipe or something, and Toris didn’t even have time to flinch before it came crashing down on his head. He whimpered softly, hand going slack and falling to his side, and he felt blood mat his hair.
“I do not take kindly to being threatened or insulted!” Russia scolded in a voice far from his childish one. “You are misbehaving again, Toris. We are going to play a game, da, and we are going to play it by my rules or you will have to worry about more than just a concussion and broken legs!”
Oh, this wasn’t good, no, not at all, and he couldn’t see straight, his vision spinning uneasily. “Fuck… Fuck you…”
Again, the pipe came crashing down on him, this time on his ribs, and he heard the crack as two of them broke, followed by the numbness that had set in yesterday as well. He couldn’t breathe quite right now, each inhalation causing a sharp pain, and his eyes squeezed shut, teeth bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.
Russia dropped the pipe and instead brought the hand up to close around his throat, pinning him to the wall above the ground, so his feet dangled. “Now. You are obviously not in the mood to play, da? Da. We will do something else, then. Since you are being so stubborn.”
Toris couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk or make any kind of sound, just tried to force in air, hands back up to his wrist and clawing at it desperately, lungs starting to ache from the lack of oxygen. His mouth hung open and eyes were wide and wet, and he watched Russia pop the buttons on his green jacket, sending them skating along the floor. “Wh… Rus… what…”
“We are going to make you one with Russia now, Toris. Doesn’t that sound good, da?” Russia nodded. “One with Russia is better than games.” He opened up the jacket and slipped his hand inside to grope around his chest for a moment, sending Toris into a full panic, trying to bring up his legs to push him away, but they were broken and just hung there limply. His hands were up and pushing at him, and he still couldn’t breathe, and he was starting to see spots, so he took fistfuls of Russia’s hair and yanked as hard as his weakened state could manage.
Russia cursed loudly and threw Toris to the ground. The latter erupted into a fit of coughing and gasping, blue lips regaining color and face flushing again as he clawed at the ground to stand.
“You are taking my kindness for granted!” Russia shouted at him, kicking the already-cracked ribcage. Toris cried out and curled into a ball, shaking. “You complain about the games, so I let you become one, and you continue to act this way! Niet, this is not the way my pets are to be behaving! I won’t stand for it!” Getting on the ground, he rolled Toris onto his stomach and held him down. “I will show you what happens when you tell Russia no!”
Toris screamed, tried to fight his way out of that hold, but he was being crushed to the floor and felt the back of his shirt being torn after the removal of his coat. This wasn’t good, no, no, this wasn’t good at all, and he growled and thrashed and snarled and tried to look menacing, but that was difficult when being pinned down by someone like Russia – the man was like a bear, all brute strength and force and ‘Don’t fuck with me’ written over him. And Toris was an idiot for thinking he could ever fight this man, but he had to try, had to do something—
There was pain, suddenly, and he stiffened and cried out. Something cold and sharp was slicing into him, right at his lower back; the blood washed over his skin and he trembled violently, almost seizing, under that hold. “Gh—stop! Stop, Russia, stop it!”
“You did not want to play a game. You did not want to become one. So we will do this, to show you that it would be wise to do as I say.”
“Russ—“
“You have been a very misbehaved pet, Toris.”
It continued on that way, each new cut going deeper, and sometimes he messed up and had to go back and do the gouge over again. When it was over, Russia pulled back and admired his work, and licked the knife clean of Toris’s blood.
“There. Da, now you are just the way you should be.”
Toris shook and sobbed and tried getting up but only slipped in his own blood and fell again, gasping. “Stop… stop it… please, whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want…”
Broken. He had been a wild stallion before, but now he was nothing more than broken. Ashamed of his own weakness, he turned his face away and cried.
“Now you will be my pet, Toris. Just the way you should be.”
In a few days’ time, when he would look in the mirror, he would see the word “favorite” written in Russian across his back.
“My favorite pet.”
Author: Dementis
Fandom: APH
Pairing: Russia/Lithuania
Rated: T
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Summary: There is a reason that Lithuania is Russia's favorite.
The first thing he noticed when he woke up, just like he did every morning, was that his legs hurt.
Of course, Russia always made sure never to hit him unless he ‘deserved it’ – sick bastard, sick sick sick, and Toris was shaking and trying to stand on his fractured legs. He’d thought this kind of behavior was for children, marking property, claiming toys as all one’s own, but apparently it was for psychopathic giants as well. He shifted in his chains (a shackle around each ankle, keeping him there, as if he could really leave right now with his legs broken like this) and looked up and around him for the window.
Ah yes, there it was. A small window high up on the wall, but big enough so that if Toris sucked in his stomach, he could probably fit through. There were a few boxes left down here as well so that he could stack them up, climb to get up there and make his escape. He wondered idly if Feliks had noticed his absence yet, and came to the conclusion that even if he had, there was no way Poland could go up against Russia. No way in Heaven and Hell would that ever come out the way Toris wanted it to. Feliks was strong, yes, but not strong enough to take on this kind of brute force.
So. He just had to find his own way out, then. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?
Toris’s lip was split and his eye bruised, knee bent awkwardly, but still he stood and shifted and shuffled over to those boxes, trying to straighten them out to make something like stairs. Getting out, he was getting out, no matter what it took. He couldn’t take any more ‘games’ this week.
“What are you doing, Toris?”
Dievas, there was that forcefully cheerful voice, sing-song and smiling like it was a fucking game of house. Toris turned, sending his most heated glare back at the much taller nation, baring his teeth.
“I’m through playing with you, Russia! I need out of here, I need to go home, and if you won’t let me go, I’ll find my own way out of here!” He was panting, voice cracked from screaming so loudly yesterday (Russia had only laughed at the little snapping sounds his knees made when bent the wrong way), but he put force behind it.
Russia raised his eyebrows but his smile didn’t waver. “Oh? You want outside?” He said it like he was speaking to one of the snow dogs, and he came forward down the stairs, into the cellar, reached and took a handful of Toris’s shirt, the nice green one that Feliks had bought for him on his last birthday, telling him it matched his eyes.
“If you’re a good boy, and you play my game by the rules this time, I’ll let you outside for a walk, da?” Russia laughed like a small child. “Oh, but if you misbehave like you did yesterday… tsk, I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you again. I don’t tolerate undisciplined pets.”
“P-pets?” Toris spat the word, reached up took hold of Russia’s wrist, still glaring. “I told you, I’m through playing! I don’t want to play anymore, I want out, you fucking stupid child! Let me go, bastard, let me go! I’ll kill you, I swear to fucking God I’ll kill you!”
Russia’s face darkened suddenly and his free hand lifted up, wielding some kind of… faucet pipe or something, and Toris didn’t even have time to flinch before it came crashing down on his head. He whimpered softly, hand going slack and falling to his side, and he felt blood mat his hair.
“I do not take kindly to being threatened or insulted!” Russia scolded in a voice far from his childish one. “You are misbehaving again, Toris. We are going to play a game, da, and we are going to play it by my rules or you will have to worry about more than just a concussion and broken legs!”
Oh, this wasn’t good, no, not at all, and he couldn’t see straight, his vision spinning uneasily. “Fuck… Fuck you…”
Again, the pipe came crashing down on him, this time on his ribs, and he heard the crack as two of them broke, followed by the numbness that had set in yesterday as well. He couldn’t breathe quite right now, each inhalation causing a sharp pain, and his eyes squeezed shut, teeth bit down on his lip to keep from crying out.
Russia dropped the pipe and instead brought the hand up to close around his throat, pinning him to the wall above the ground, so his feet dangled. “Now. You are obviously not in the mood to play, da? Da. We will do something else, then. Since you are being so stubborn.”
Toris couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk or make any kind of sound, just tried to force in air, hands back up to his wrist and clawing at it desperately, lungs starting to ache from the lack of oxygen. His mouth hung open and eyes were wide and wet, and he watched Russia pop the buttons on his green jacket, sending them skating along the floor. “Wh… Rus… what…”
“We are going to make you one with Russia now, Toris. Doesn’t that sound good, da?” Russia nodded. “One with Russia is better than games.” He opened up the jacket and slipped his hand inside to grope around his chest for a moment, sending Toris into a full panic, trying to bring up his legs to push him away, but they were broken and just hung there limply. His hands were up and pushing at him, and he still couldn’t breathe, and he was starting to see spots, so he took fistfuls of Russia’s hair and yanked as hard as his weakened state could manage.
Russia cursed loudly and threw Toris to the ground. The latter erupted into a fit of coughing and gasping, blue lips regaining color and face flushing again as he clawed at the ground to stand.
“You are taking my kindness for granted!” Russia shouted at him, kicking the already-cracked ribcage. Toris cried out and curled into a ball, shaking. “You complain about the games, so I let you become one, and you continue to act this way! Niet, this is not the way my pets are to be behaving! I won’t stand for it!” Getting on the ground, he rolled Toris onto his stomach and held him down. “I will show you what happens when you tell Russia no!”
Toris screamed, tried to fight his way out of that hold, but he was being crushed to the floor and felt the back of his shirt being torn after the removal of his coat. This wasn’t good, no, no, this wasn’t good at all, and he growled and thrashed and snarled and tried to look menacing, but that was difficult when being pinned down by someone like Russia – the man was like a bear, all brute strength and force and ‘Don’t fuck with me’ written over him. And Toris was an idiot for thinking he could ever fight this man, but he had to try, had to do something—
There was pain, suddenly, and he stiffened and cried out. Something cold and sharp was slicing into him, right at his lower back; the blood washed over his skin and he trembled violently, almost seizing, under that hold. “Gh—stop! Stop, Russia, stop it!”
“You did not want to play a game. You did not want to become one. So we will do this, to show you that it would be wise to do as I say.”
“Russ—“
“You have been a very misbehaved pet, Toris.”
It continued on that way, each new cut going deeper, and sometimes he messed up and had to go back and do the gouge over again. When it was over, Russia pulled back and admired his work, and licked the knife clean of Toris’s blood.
“There. Da, now you are just the way you should be.”
Toris shook and sobbed and tried getting up but only slipped in his own blood and fell again, gasping. “Stop… stop it… please, whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want…”
Broken. He had been a wild stallion before, but now he was nothing more than broken. Ashamed of his own weakness, he turned his face away and cried.
“Now you will be my pet, Toris. Just the way you should be.”
In a few days’ time, when he would look in the mirror, he would see the word “favorite” written in Russian across his back.
“My favorite pet.”