I'm afraid of posting this, but here goes. Sorry if it doesn't fill your request exactly, and I apologize in advance for grammar errors. It's rather late. xD
---
Her head jerked up at the sound of the creaky door. The hallway was dark in the late afternoon, lit by a lone flickering lamp, so the smile on her face did not fade until she realized the person walking toward her was not him.
The young woman paused, taking time to pull down her skirt, then fixed the thin fabric at her throat so it bore some semblance to a bow. Finished, she glanced at Belarus, a coy smile on her face.
“Natasha, it’s been so long!”
Nataliya resisted the urge to let her fingers encircle the pale throat; they carved grooves into the soft wood of the bench instead.
"Nataliya is my name, Ukraine, if you are to use it." Her reply was flat, her gaze remained on the closed door.
"I forget: dear Vanya always calls you Natasha." Nataliya folded her arms to restrain herself as Ukraine leaned over her, one hand brushing against her cheek to smooth into place a stray strand of hair. "You are doing well, though?"
"Perhaps you should keep your toxicity to yourself," she hissed, the bench hard against her back as she drew away from Ukraine's touch, her shadow. Even now, years after, the stench of decay followed Ukraine like a ghost.
"Vanya doesn't seem to mind it so much."
"I have a meeting in ten minutes." Nataliya brushed aside the previous comment as she did the wrinkles in her skirt.
Her hands froze when her eyes finally met Ukraine‘s. The glint in the woman's eye reminded Nataliya of Ivan, when he seemed so gentle, like a child, as he hugged her broken body to him in the snow and laughed, the scent of vodka heavy on his breath. The thought sent a chill up her spine. Standing, Nataliya stepped to the side, setting distance between them. Ukraine always appeared to be too close for comfort.
"He's a bit tired from his meeting with me." Ukraine paused, a soft blush on her face as she looked up at Nataliya, drawing closer with each word. “You know how economic talks go.”
“I was supposed to be the only one to meet with him today.” Her face felt hot as she glanced away from Ukraine.
“Oh? Well, you should know by now the privileges of elders.”
“Ivan would not give privileges just to you. We are all one.”
“Are you still that naïve, white one? There are always favourites.”
For a brief moment Belarus wondered at how soft Ukraine’s skin felt, before her fingers gripped tighter around the woman’s throat.
Why would you be nervous!? The last line is so hot, and I actually like that it's simple and yet based off of believable! Ukraine doesn't seem malicious with her provoking, but rather playful and teasing, and Belarus' reaction is so SRS and crazy and hot a-and
not the OP, but you have made me a very happy Belarus/Ukraine (/Ivan :D ) shipper.
Ukraine gargled, her own hands scrabbling at Nataliya's wrists in an effort to pry them off. Belarus glanced idly at the thin red scratches that crisscrossed her wrists, then looked up to sneer at Ukraine. The shorter woman lost her balance as she tried to step back and slipped on the floor, dragging Nataliya down with her.
Stars filled her vision as she hit the marble floor -- how could he afford marble, but not keep his house lit -- and she tasted iron as she licked her lips, trying to focus her gaze on the ceiling. It took her a few moments to realize she lost her grip on Ukraine when they fell; her fingers curled around air, not flesh. She groaned when her head brushed against the cold floor as a weight settled on top of her.
“Does it pain you, little Natasha, that Vanya loves his elder sister so?"
The new stars that flitted at the edge of her vision made her quell the urge to try and slam her head against Ukraine’s face, which mocked her with an expression of concern. Whatever retort she thought of saying died as Ukraine lay over her, her mouth on hers, teeth grazing against the bleeding cut on Nataliya’s lip. The firm grip that pinned her arms above her head stopped her from trying to strangle Ukraine again -- or claw out her eyes or punch her face in or tear out that short, cropped hair or leave bleeding streaks down her arms, so she writhed under the woman, her legs lashing out, occasionally hitting a knee or a boot. Ukraine smiled at her attempts, wiping off the blood on Nataliya’s bottom lip with her tongue, quick-like so there was no chance to snap at it. She leaned close again, kissed each of Nataliya’s cheeks as if they had just met on the street.
“In any case, you're too late. Vanya left here days ago, so he is not here to meet with his poor Belarus.”
Nataliya could feel her blouse being tugged from out of her skirt, but Ukraine’s words had startled her still. Everyone knew Ivan rarely left his house nowadays, unless the pressing matter of a vodka shortage made him leave to demand more from the first hapless citizen he came across. She felt her face flush in frustration. Even then, why would he leave the care of his household in her hands. Ukraine, she thought angrily, didn’t deserve to even touch the mud that clung to his boots during the spring rains.
Nataliya bit her lip to stop from moaning, squirming again as Ukriane’s hands ghosted over her covered breasts. The touch made her nauseous. It reminded her of the war.
Only when she felt hands brush up her legs, sliding under her skirt, did she realize that her own hands were free. Nataliya stopped struggling, flexing her fingers to ease them of the sense of pins and needles. Ukraine seemed to not notice her small freedom, inching up to worry at the cut on her lip again as her hands worked at undoing the buttons of Nataliya’s blouse. Carefully, Nataliya rested her hands on Ukraine’s shoulders, and when she did nothing but continue to work on stripping her of her clothing, Nataliya pushed up against the shorter woman, rolling off of the floor to land on top.
She leered down at Ukraine, her hands back at her throat, covering the emerging bruises. She slammed the woman's head against the floor -- again, thrice more, a gleeful smile on her face as the woman under her groaned. She leaned back, letting Ukraine’s head thud dully against the floor as she released her grip.
“You are no more loved than I.”
“-etter.”
Nataliya arched an eyebrow. “Did you say something?”
“-ya likes me better.”
“Not if I leave you a corpse.”
Ukraine laughed, not stopping until she coughed. It was a wet cough, as if blood had settled in her throat. Nataliya clawed at Ukraine’s blouse, frustrated, leaving strips of exposed, red flesh where she tore through the fabric.
“You cannot kill me, Natasha." She wheezed out her words. "You wouldn’t make your Ivan angry, now, would you?”
Her palm stung; Ukraine’s left cheek darkened from the initial bright pink. Nataliya smiled as she rested her hand on the stricken cheek, tilting Ukraine's head up with her thumb as an idea formed in her mind.
"There are worse things than death, aren't there?"
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Fic - Belarus/Ukraine [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-03 09:09 am (UTC)(link)---
Her head jerked up at the sound of the creaky door. The hallway was dark in the late afternoon, lit by a lone flickering lamp, so the smile on her face did not fade until she realized the person walking toward her was not him.
The young woman paused, taking time to pull down her skirt, then fixed the thin fabric at her throat so it bore some semblance to a bow. Finished, she glanced at Belarus, a coy smile on her face.
“Natasha, it’s been so long!”
Nataliya resisted the urge to let her fingers encircle the pale throat; they carved grooves into the soft wood of the bench instead.
"Nataliya is my name, Ukraine, if you are to use it." Her reply was flat, her gaze remained on the closed door.
"I forget: dear Vanya always calls you Natasha." Nataliya folded her arms to restrain herself as Ukraine leaned over her, one hand brushing against her cheek to smooth into place a stray strand of hair. "You are doing well, though?"
"Perhaps you should keep your toxicity to yourself," she hissed, the bench hard against her back as she drew away from Ukraine's touch, her shadow. Even now, years after, the stench of decay followed Ukraine like a ghost.
"Vanya doesn't seem to mind it so much."
"I have a meeting in ten minutes." Nataliya brushed aside the previous comment as she did the wrinkles in her skirt.
Her hands froze when her eyes finally met Ukraine‘s. The glint in the woman's eye reminded Nataliya of Ivan, when he seemed so gentle, like a child, as he hugged her broken body to him in the snow and laughed, the scent of vodka heavy on his breath. The thought sent a chill up her spine. Standing, Nataliya stepped to the side, setting distance between them. Ukraine always appeared to be too close for comfort.
"He's a bit tired from his meeting with me." Ukraine paused, a soft blush on her face as she looked up at Nataliya, drawing closer with each word. “You know how economic talks go.”
“I was supposed to be the only one to meet with him today.” Her face felt hot as she glanced away from Ukraine.
“Oh? Well, you should know by now the privileges of elders.”
“Ivan would not give privileges just to you. We are all one.”
“Are you still that naïve, white one? There are always favourites.”
For a brief moment Belarus wondered at how soft Ukraine’s skin felt, before her fingers gripped tighter around the woman’s throat.
Re: Fic - Belarus/Ukraine [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-03 10:31 am (UTC)(link)not the OP, but you have made me a very happy Belarus/Ukraine (/Ivan :D ) shipper.
Re: Fic - Belarus/Ukraine [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-04 06:38 am (UTC)(link)Re: Fic - Belarus/Ukraine [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-03 04:53 pm (UTC)(link)It's like Ice-bitches on fire up in here. CONTINUE, Anon!!!
Fic - Belarus/Ukraine [2/?]
(Anonymous) 2009-01-04 06:35 am (UTC)(link)Stars filled her vision as she hit the marble floor -- how could he afford marble, but not keep his house lit -- and she tasted iron as she licked her lips, trying to focus her gaze on the ceiling. It took her a few moments to realize she lost her grip on Ukraine when they fell; her fingers curled around air, not flesh. She groaned when her head brushed against the cold floor as a weight settled on top of her.
“Does it pain you, little Natasha, that Vanya loves his elder sister so?"
The new stars that flitted at the edge of her vision made her quell the urge to try and slam her head against Ukraine’s face, which mocked her with an expression of concern. Whatever retort she thought of saying died as Ukraine lay over her, her mouth on hers, teeth grazing against the bleeding cut on Nataliya’s lip. The firm grip that pinned her arms above her head stopped her from trying to strangle Ukraine again -- or claw out her eyes or punch her face in or tear out that short, cropped hair or leave bleeding streaks down her arms, so she writhed under the woman, her legs lashing out, occasionally hitting a knee or a boot. Ukraine smiled at her attempts, wiping off the blood on Nataliya’s bottom lip with her tongue, quick-like so there was no chance to snap at it. She leaned close again, kissed each of Nataliya’s cheeks as if they had just met on the street.
“In any case, you're too late. Vanya left here days ago, so he is not here to meet with his poor Belarus.”
Nataliya could feel her blouse being tugged from out of her skirt, but Ukraine’s words had startled her still. Everyone knew Ivan rarely left his house nowadays, unless the pressing matter of a vodka shortage made him leave to demand more from the first hapless citizen he came across. She felt her face flush in frustration. Even then, why would he leave the care of his household in her hands. Ukraine, she thought angrily, didn’t deserve to even touch the mud that clung to his boots during the spring rains.
Nataliya bit her lip to stop from moaning, squirming again as Ukriane’s hands ghosted over her covered breasts. The touch made her nauseous. It reminded her of the war.
Only when she felt hands brush up her legs, sliding under her skirt, did she realize that her own hands were free. Nataliya stopped struggling, flexing her fingers to ease them of the sense of pins and needles. Ukraine seemed to not notice her small freedom, inching up to worry at the cut on her lip again as her hands worked at undoing the buttons of Nataliya’s blouse. Carefully, Nataliya rested her hands on Ukraine’s shoulders, and when she did nothing but continue to work on stripping her of her clothing, Nataliya pushed up against the shorter woman, rolling off of the floor to land on top.
She leered down at Ukraine, her hands back at her throat, covering the emerging bruises. She slammed the woman's head against the floor -- again, thrice more, a gleeful smile on her face as the woman under her groaned. She leaned back, letting Ukraine’s head thud dully against the floor as she released her grip.
“You are no more loved than I.”
“-etter.”
Nataliya arched an eyebrow. “Did you say something?”
“-ya likes me better.”
“Not if I leave you a corpse.”
Ukraine laughed, not stopping until she coughed. It was a wet cough, as if blood had settled in her throat. Nataliya clawed at Ukraine’s blouse, frustrated, leaving strips of exposed, red flesh where she tore through the fabric.
“You cannot kill me, Natasha." She wheezed out her words. "You wouldn’t make your Ivan angry, now, would you?”
Her palm stung; Ukraine’s left cheek darkened from the initial bright pink. Nataliya smiled as she rested her hand on the stricken cheek, tilting Ukraine's head up with her thumb as an idea formed in her mind.
"There are worse things than death, aren't there?"