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Masterlist of KinksOkay, let's make history and be more epic than
these people, shall we?
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China is trying very hard to be a civilized human being about this whole mess. But Russia just keeps smiling. China knows that smile, knows it well, has seen it for hundreds of years-he remembers different smiles, from time to time: the smile of a child out of the West, standing on the border with Mongolia, learning to ride ponies; the smile of a young man, wearing silk that China exported to him, laughing in that strange language of his; the broken smile Russia wore through his wars and revolutions, returning to China for consultation and consoling. And now this. This is not the smile China remembers from when they laid down together, years before, in the 20s, after his break from Imperialism. This ( ... )
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Russia breaks his train of thought to gesture at China when China just folds his hands in his lap and stares at his tea mug. “You aren’t having any?”
“I’m not hungry, thank you.”
“Oh,” Russia murmurs, and inexpertly breaks off a bit of the pastry. He collects it with his chopsticks, staring at it a moment, before he cups a hand beneath it and extends across the table, still smiling so tenderly, so sweetly.
China gapes at him a moment, nose crinkled slightly in distaste, before he sighs, rolling his eyes a little as he leans over. Russia hums softly as China opens his mouth obligingly. China bites into the chopsticks a little, can taste the left over oil from the chūnjuǎn, the savory edge of the qiāncénggāo sitting on his ( ... )
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Russia is still giggling, even as he lunges and catches the pot. His hand must burn to hold it, but he takes a second to cradle it, before he stands and rounds the table. He sets it on the side bar as he walks, and then he settles down beside China’s chair. Even kneeling, Russia is huge. He looks up at China from around China’s shoulder, smiling blithely at him, reaching up and taking one of his hands.
China snatches his hand back, but Russia persists, grabbing it and holding it on the verge of too-tight, thumb running over the back of China’s knuckles.
“You were having love of me, once,” Russia whispers. He presses his lips to China’s knuckles, and China cannot, will not, say the words that linger on his tongue like a curse-that, truthfully, he has never stopped loving the boy kneeling at his feet, that he misses the soft, easy laughter Russia had before he went mad, and he even misses the dark, twisted man he has become, the man that betrayed him and made his people ( ... )
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“Ja tebja ljublju,” Russian murmured against China’s throat, and repeated it until his voice was rough and China had tears spilling down his cheek with the rapture of the words. “Nikogda ne zabudu. Ja zdes’ dlja vas. Ja tebja ljubljuChina opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He throbbed between them, squeezed Russia tight with arms and body, until Russia was keening against his chest like a ( ... )
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*brb going to go never read Russia/Chinese history the same way again*
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But what I loved the most were China's memories of a young Russia. I believe it's the first time I've seen that explored on a fic, so thumbs up for incorporating such an aspect to the story.
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PS: the Mandarin was fine. ;D
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my favourite part was probably the "And China supposes: when the world looks down on you, when the others think you are a monster, then it only makes sense to lie with another who shares the same fate." line.
the ending was adorable as well.
thank you for such a wonderful fic! *O*
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Also I fail at finding an online translator for romanized Russian, can anon tell me what Ivan is saying in part 5?
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for the love of sweet mama jesus, why so damn EPIC?!
you're gonna make me die. for serial.
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