15 Pairings - #2 - Hetalia - America x Vietnam
Title: Burn
Theme: "You've got two choices."
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cursing
Words: 592
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: America x Vietnam
He saw it coming from miles away. He always knew when the planes were flying up ahead, opening up their iron bellies, releasing their innards unto the green land wrought with rainy days and nights. He always knew. This time was no different.
The fire was spreading, eliciting shrieks from the villages in its wake while he whispered, “Burn baby, burn,” but shook his head with tears in his eyes. He watched the flames burst, overtake the vegetation, engulf the small little houses with small little people. He stared with bright blue eyes, whispering and shaking, praying and cursing. He saw it coming, he always did.
But he didn’t see her as she ran from the jungle, gun in her hand, black hair whipping behind her. She stood in the direct path, seemed to be staring at the sky as the planes rumbled near. She watched the angry monsters in the air, held her gun as it shook in her thin, beautiful hands. He couldn’t control himself as he stopped whispering, stopped shaking, stopped praying and cursing. He couldn’t control himself as his legs took him forward, launching him into a spring across the field.
His men yelled behind him, but they didn’t follow. They knew he could handle himself, knew that he wanted to save her. So they watched as he ran, arms reaching out to grab her, his voice echoing over the blasts.
He shouted her name, grabbed her, and enveloped her. His arms squeezed her to his chest as he moved her out of the way, as he shielded her from the explosive napalm. He buried his face in her shoulder, shuddered as he felt her heart beat next to his. This was too close, much too close. He could smell her, feel the strands of her hair against his face, and feel the warmth from her flesh. He was too close. She could kill him.
But he could also kill her.
Then, suddenly, she was gone, as if she were never there. Vanished. Disappeared.
He looked up, not noticing the flames reflecting in his lenses. His men shook their heads, but they didn’t look surprised. He scanned the surrounding jungle, dropped his arms, and ran back to his people. Before he could open his mouth, a high school senior wedged an unlit cigarette between his lips.
“Charlie’s fuckin’ ev’rywhere, sir.”
He stared at the boy, confused.
“One minnit she’s r’ght there,” the boy pointed at the land’s napalm scars, “th’ n’xt she’s shootin’ at ya from th’ jungle.”
His mouth was dry. He turned away, put his hand on his helmet. Then he turned back, gazed at the unit expectantly.
The Southern fishmonger spat at the ground. “Ah didn’t see a damned thing! Who you fuckin’ goin’ out there for, Jones, you’re one hell of a fuckin’ nutter! ‘Ja see that palm? Yeh? Well fuck the camel, both of ya need to get yer heads checked.”
And the unit shrugged and began humping forward, leaving him to stand alone. He watched them move. He was still afraid.
He could hear the fishmonger. “The only fuckin’ victim here is us. Fuckin’ red-ass commies, they deserve what we got! Those no-good brats know nothin’ ‘bout containment! Ain’t they in school to learn? Wastin’ money rebellin’ and arguin’…! Why, if I were back home, I’d-”
A part of him said that humans saw only what they wanted to see. He moved forward, and thought nothing else of the matter. He could still smell the gunpowder and flames in her hair.
Theme: "You've got two choices."
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cursing
Words: 592
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairings/Characters: America x Vietnam
He saw it coming from miles away. He always knew when the planes were flying up ahead, opening up their iron bellies, releasing their innards unto the green land wrought with rainy days and nights. He always knew. This time was no different.
The fire was spreading, eliciting shrieks from the villages in its wake while he whispered, “Burn baby, burn,” but shook his head with tears in his eyes. He watched the flames burst, overtake the vegetation, engulf the small little houses with small little people. He stared with bright blue eyes, whispering and shaking, praying and cursing. He saw it coming, he always did.
But he didn’t see her as she ran from the jungle, gun in her hand, black hair whipping behind her. She stood in the direct path, seemed to be staring at the sky as the planes rumbled near. She watched the angry monsters in the air, held her gun as it shook in her thin, beautiful hands. He couldn’t control himself as he stopped whispering, stopped shaking, stopped praying and cursing. He couldn’t control himself as his legs took him forward, launching him into a spring across the field.
His men yelled behind him, but they didn’t follow. They knew he could handle himself, knew that he wanted to save her. So they watched as he ran, arms reaching out to grab her, his voice echoing over the blasts.
He shouted her name, grabbed her, and enveloped her. His arms squeezed her to his chest as he moved her out of the way, as he shielded her from the explosive napalm. He buried his face in her shoulder, shuddered as he felt her heart beat next to his. This was too close, much too close. He could smell her, feel the strands of her hair against his face, and feel the warmth from her flesh. He was too close. She could kill him.
But he could also kill her.
Then, suddenly, she was gone, as if she were never there. Vanished. Disappeared.
He looked up, not noticing the flames reflecting in his lenses. His men shook their heads, but they didn’t look surprised. He scanned the surrounding jungle, dropped his arms, and ran back to his people. Before he could open his mouth, a high school senior wedged an unlit cigarette between his lips.
“Charlie’s fuckin’ ev’rywhere, sir.”
He stared at the boy, confused.
“One minnit she’s r’ght there,” the boy pointed at the land’s napalm scars, “th’ n’xt she’s shootin’ at ya from th’ jungle.”
His mouth was dry. He turned away, put his hand on his helmet. Then he turned back, gazed at the unit expectantly.
The Southern fishmonger spat at the ground. “Ah didn’t see a damned thing! Who you fuckin’ goin’ out there for, Jones, you’re one hell of a fuckin’ nutter! ‘Ja see that palm? Yeh? Well fuck the camel, both of ya need to get yer heads checked.”
And the unit shrugged and began humping forward, leaving him to stand alone. He watched them move. He was still afraid.
He could hear the fishmonger. “The only fuckin’ victim here is us. Fuckin’ red-ass commies, they deserve what we got! Those no-good brats know nothin’ ‘bout containment! Ain’t they in school to learn? Wastin’ money rebellin’ and arguin’…! Why, if I were back home, I’d-”
A part of him said that humans saw only what they wanted to see. He moved forward, and thought nothing else of the matter. He could still smell the gunpowder and flames in her hair.