hetalia oneshots || suddenly, turkey/greece;
with all the turkish music i been listenin to, this was inevitable. I AM NOT A CROOK
title: Thorn-Armed Against Love
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: From violence in hatred to violence in love.
☆THORN-ARMED AGAINST LOVE
I.
This time, by the sea; under clouds thick and blank as salt. It was so normal to them that neither noticed the strange fact that whenever they met things invariably exploded into an almost comic violence- onlookers hurried, panicked, or cheered them on as they grappled, grasped. Foot sliding across gravel; body coiled, tense and snakelike; sudden black when unstoppable force meets immovable object.
"-Fuck!" Turkey bit out almost subconsciously, gnashing the word, doglike; numbness hollowing out a black star feeling in his cheek. Greece moved again but this time Turkey was able to catch him. Greece struggled, tried to move- but the wrestler's hold had him stuck.
His eyes flashed, the diamond spark of war fugitive in 'em. All his nerves were on the end of anxious fire, his veins were coarsing with static. He grit his teeth; barely registered a woman yelling, "You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Maybe, maybe.
"Bastard, let go," Greece clipped out.
"Don't think so," Turkey retorted, tightening his hold. Suddenly making movement impossible- it felt like change would break. Anything could break under this spark; even thick shouting voices around them were invariably drowned. Turkey was suddenly looking at him directly, teeth sharp and sly in a grin, and Greece felt a signal flare in his senses- ringing into his bones. "Ya little brat," Turkey said, "Still think you can fuckin' beat me- hasn't any of this taught you a goddamn lesson?"
Greece's mind flashed blue, white, yellow; he could feel that, even behind the mask, Turkey's eyes were completely on him- too close to that high darkness- he could feel the sun off Turkey's skin and that familiar music in the angle of Turkey's jaw to his. "Stupid idiot," Greece responded, breathe thin, "Don't fucking- look at me like that."
A snap of a pause, and then Turkey let out a laugh. "Ya don't like it, huh?" he said, turning his head a bit.
"You're a dick," Greece said.
Turkey's smile was almost benevolent; closer (Greece's scent like the electric fever that shuddered salty off both of their coasts); "Right back atchya, arkada," he answered.
"Even your language-"
But Greece was cut off as Turkey shifted their weight, let friction slip too suddenly- the expert lift, and Greece could barely think as he felt himself tumble backwards, gravel hard on his skin, burning.
Turkey standing above him. The shadows of the sun and the boats on the coastline and the sudden cheer of Turkish workers nearby. The sky; eyes.
"When're ya gonna learn? Fucking kid."
-And Greece was floored again.
II.
Greece hated it when Turkey's face was this close to his- hated the insinuation of his eyes, all dark coffee and spark, mask discarded. It was nervousness, anxiousness, a ticking feeling from his blood to his brain- rushing straight, like a headache.
Turkey's mouth on his- always grinning like the smug fucking moron he was- push of tongue like soundwaves. Greece pushed him off. "At least close your eyes, idiot," he commanded (although quiet, breathless), teeth gritting.
Turkey didn't laugh, not in sound, at least. He moved forward again but Greece pushed him, held him in suspension. "Ya hate that, dontcha? Bein' looked at and shit," Turkey said, voice barely above night.
"-Shut up," Greece answered, and noticed that he was shaking, in some violent feeling.
He hated being perceived; he hated being reminded who this was- kissing on a fool, burning resting glitter. And what could he do? He felt disabled and angry, and all he felt to do was to move forward, shift force, eyes closed and his tongue pushing into Turkey's mouth- tongue against tongue, almost fighting. Thoughtless darkness, consume his mind like fury- a feeling filled with more bent, faceted light than any of that-
And Turkey was more than happy to comply- hands at Greece's waist, touch light; pushed down with Greece on top of him. Tough weight and Greece's mouth on his neck; history shifting, subtly, with new fire burning.
title: A Light
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: Random drabble-type thing; Greece and Turkey getting along in their own weird way.
☆A LIGHT
"Alright, little one," Greece said, eyes even, pacific; he took his change and patted the girl on the shoulder- it seemed platonic but for the subtle smile across his face. "Thanks."
-And off he went, mind whiting out and hands in his pockets. All around him a sort of marketplace calamity. Sun or moon, could anybody tell?- could anybody care? He hadn't bothered to count his change; lights along the street...
And blocks away Turkey was sucking down a cigarette; some cheap-tasting thing he'd bought off France last time they'd met- but who cared about that loser? The smoke chalked out the sweet almond taste that still lingered past his tongue. Something like remembrance lit in his mind; he quickened his pace, walked with rough grace-
Greece on a city sidewalk, indifferent, just passing through with observing eyes; Turkey rushing down the lanes, egging on an angry driver, grinning- smoke trailing behind him like sent letters.
They places they met in the middle, cars and street glow- up until recently, whenever they met, it would escalate into the sum of fugitive anger- but Turkey just smiled, tossed aside his cigarette in a movement of levity.
"What's up, ya brat?" Turkey asked, turning his head a bit to give Greece a combatant look- "Hot damn but yer drivers are assholes. Had ta play matador with a dude in a Citroën- you gotta tell your damn people t' cut that out."
Greece's posture tensed, but his eyes were vaguely amused- just vaguely, underneath that old facade of irritation; he didn't nod, didn't say anything- just turned back around. It seemed like an invitation; Turkey followed.
"'Ey now, you ain't even gonna talk t' me?" Turkey called.
"Words," Greece answered, not looking back to Turkey, "...Are for the most part inadequate- abstract definitions, classifications of things that can't be classified."
"Ah, don't get all philosophical on my ass," Turkey scoffed.
"Not philosophical. You're just stupid." Words to describe the streets of Athens pulsing with life that was at once familiar and foreign; words for the way Turkey followed, like some curious dog- looking forward to going wherever Greece was leading him.
"Want a cigarette?" Turkey asked.
Greece paused; then he turned slightly, and nodded a bit. Turkey threw him the pack with a vaguely lazy movement, sorta like throwing a basketball. Greece reached to catch it. "A light?" he asked, against the gray whirling sound of a car passing by.
"Yeah," Turkey said; a pause that stretched a bit long- Greece was about to look back to see what Turkey was doing, when he felt something small and relatively light hit the back of his head, right on target. A strawberry pain stinging in the place it hit...The lighter clattered onto the sidewalk and broke; Greece frowned, irritated, and turned around, said with a cool tone-
"Fucking...not at my head..."
-And to his surprise, Turkey had covered the distance between them rather quickly. Well, he'd always been a sneaky bastard like that. Standing close, his crude posture like a low song. There was something off-balance in the way he looked at Greece behind the mask that lit shaded desire; he grinned- held out a match. Matches suited Turkey better anyway; he was always stubborn about doing things old-fashioned. Greece took out a cigarette from the pack between his teeth and didn't bother to look up at Turkey. That sandpaper scratch, and then the breath of flame. Greece inhaled slowly, smoke traveling calm, and looked up to Turkey.
Turkey leaned forward- supported himself on Greece's shoulder. "So whatchya got planned?"
"Nothing," Greece answered, because that was the truth; Turkey kept on smiling, and- at least in his eyes, or in the way he leaned up to kiss him, Greece figured he could return the gesture.
title: The Empire
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: A lover's like a pet, and it has to be kept.
for frostberrytea via request. prompt was "a lover is like a pet."
☆THE EMPIRE
A lover's like a pet, has to be kept. Some of them bite; a deep sharp sensation crossed behind Turkey's eyes as Greece's teeth sank deeper into his tongue. Maybe enough to draw blood- maybe sure to bruise the electricity between them, turn it into that familiar rough heat that burned heavy as night.
"H-ey, goddammit," Turkey managed, shoving Greece off him. Turkey's expression was crossed as he looked back at Greece. "What're ya tryina do, bite my tongue off?"
"Better that way"- Greece's eyes were lit, cosmic- "You wouldn't talk so much then."
"Fuck- you're moody, aintcha?" Turkey asked, and tried to push Greece back down onto the sofa. Greece resisted, so Turkey offered appeasement instead (because with this kinda game, you had to start off easy- had to pacify to capture the king); drowned thought in another kiss, with a dark, subtle kind of conquering in the way his tongue moved. He felt Greece tense- and then slacken- ease back slow. "First you're all on me, then you're tryina kill me an' shit?"
"Not kill," Greece said, his fingers clutching at Turkey's shirt. "Mute."
"Ah, same difference," Turkey said; his hand moving strong along the line of Greece's waist, hip, thigh-
-He'd always known, sooner or later, that Greece would submit. Greece's eyes were suddenly even. "You're so stupid," he said, sort of hitting Turkey on the shoulder- not so much to hurt him or distance him, but to communicate charge, like futile wires.
Turkey smiled into a kiss. "Eh? Who's stupid? Ya stayed, didn'tcha?"
"You'd do anything to make me," Greece answered- the sparks in their eyes swept across each other, light, almost painless. The angles they were at would never really be perfect, but the bad luck longing between their bones had always made up for it. "Every cage I've been in has had something to do with you."
Turkey grinned now; a shadow across his face in the soft burning light of late evening. "A'course- I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, almost like laughing, almost mockingly sweet; but the way he shifted against Greece and kissed him, made him gasp, breathless, made up for the rough truth- and here he was, empire, master once more.
So these are all s'post to take place sorta round modern times. Oh, the first title comes from some Neruda poems.
oh by the by, i still have three spots left for fic requests. over here :3
ohya plz point out any spelling/grammar mistakes because since i hafeta type it from one computer to another i usually have typoes D:
Thanks for reading! :D
title: Thorn-Armed Against Love
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: From violence in hatred to violence in love.
☆THORN-ARMED AGAINST LOVE
I.
This time, by the sea; under clouds thick and blank as salt. It was so normal to them that neither noticed the strange fact that whenever they met things invariably exploded into an almost comic violence- onlookers hurried, panicked, or cheered them on as they grappled, grasped. Foot sliding across gravel; body coiled, tense and snakelike; sudden black when unstoppable force meets immovable object.
"-Fuck!" Turkey bit out almost subconsciously, gnashing the word, doglike; numbness hollowing out a black star feeling in his cheek. Greece moved again but this time Turkey was able to catch him. Greece struggled, tried to move- but the wrestler's hold had him stuck.
His eyes flashed, the diamond spark of war fugitive in 'em. All his nerves were on the end of anxious fire, his veins were coarsing with static. He grit his teeth; barely registered a woman yelling, "You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Maybe, maybe.
"Bastard, let go," Greece clipped out.
"Don't think so," Turkey retorted, tightening his hold. Suddenly making movement impossible- it felt like change would break. Anything could break under this spark; even thick shouting voices around them were invariably drowned. Turkey was suddenly looking at him directly, teeth sharp and sly in a grin, and Greece felt a signal flare in his senses- ringing into his bones. "Ya little brat," Turkey said, "Still think you can fuckin' beat me- hasn't any of this taught you a goddamn lesson?"
Greece's mind flashed blue, white, yellow; he could feel that, even behind the mask, Turkey's eyes were completely on him- too close to that high darkness- he could feel the sun off Turkey's skin and that familiar music in the angle of Turkey's jaw to his. "Stupid idiot," Greece responded, breathe thin, "Don't fucking- look at me like that."
A snap of a pause, and then Turkey let out a laugh. "Ya don't like it, huh?" he said, turning his head a bit.
"You're a dick," Greece said.
Turkey's smile was almost benevolent; closer (Greece's scent like the electric fever that shuddered salty off both of their coasts); "Right back atchya, arkada," he answered.
"Even your language-"
But Greece was cut off as Turkey shifted their weight, let friction slip too suddenly- the expert lift, and Greece could barely think as he felt himself tumble backwards, gravel hard on his skin, burning.
Turkey standing above him. The shadows of the sun and the boats on the coastline and the sudden cheer of Turkish workers nearby. The sky; eyes.
"When're ya gonna learn? Fucking kid."
-And Greece was floored again.
II.
Greece hated it when Turkey's face was this close to his- hated the insinuation of his eyes, all dark coffee and spark, mask discarded. It was nervousness, anxiousness, a ticking feeling from his blood to his brain- rushing straight, like a headache.
Turkey's mouth on his- always grinning like the smug fucking moron he was- push of tongue like soundwaves. Greece pushed him off. "At least close your eyes, idiot," he commanded (although quiet, breathless), teeth gritting.
Turkey didn't laugh, not in sound, at least. He moved forward again but Greece pushed him, held him in suspension. "Ya hate that, dontcha? Bein' looked at and shit," Turkey said, voice barely above night.
"-Shut up," Greece answered, and noticed that he was shaking, in some violent feeling.
He hated being perceived; he hated being reminded who this was- kissing on a fool, burning resting glitter. And what could he do? He felt disabled and angry, and all he felt to do was to move forward, shift force, eyes closed and his tongue pushing into Turkey's mouth- tongue against tongue, almost fighting. Thoughtless darkness, consume his mind like fury- a feeling filled with more bent, faceted light than any of that-
And Turkey was more than happy to comply- hands at Greece's waist, touch light; pushed down with Greece on top of him. Tough weight and Greece's mouth on his neck; history shifting, subtly, with new fire burning.
title: A Light
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: Random drabble-type thing; Greece and Turkey getting along in their own weird way.
☆A LIGHT
"Alright, little one," Greece said, eyes even, pacific; he took his change and patted the girl on the shoulder- it seemed platonic but for the subtle smile across his face. "Thanks."
-And off he went, mind whiting out and hands in his pockets. All around him a sort of marketplace calamity. Sun or moon, could anybody tell?- could anybody care? He hadn't bothered to count his change; lights along the street...
And blocks away Turkey was sucking down a cigarette; some cheap-tasting thing he'd bought off France last time they'd met- but who cared about that loser? The smoke chalked out the sweet almond taste that still lingered past his tongue. Something like remembrance lit in his mind; he quickened his pace, walked with rough grace-
Greece on a city sidewalk, indifferent, just passing through with observing eyes; Turkey rushing down the lanes, egging on an angry driver, grinning- smoke trailing behind him like sent letters.
They places they met in the middle, cars and street glow- up until recently, whenever they met, it would escalate into the sum of fugitive anger- but Turkey just smiled, tossed aside his cigarette in a movement of levity.
"What's up, ya brat?" Turkey asked, turning his head a bit to give Greece a combatant look- "Hot damn but yer drivers are assholes. Had ta play matador with a dude in a Citroën- you gotta tell your damn people t' cut that out."
Greece's posture tensed, but his eyes were vaguely amused- just vaguely, underneath that old facade of irritation; he didn't nod, didn't say anything- just turned back around. It seemed like an invitation; Turkey followed.
"'Ey now, you ain't even gonna talk t' me?" Turkey called.
"Words," Greece answered, not looking back to Turkey, "...Are for the most part inadequate- abstract definitions, classifications of things that can't be classified."
"Ah, don't get all philosophical on my ass," Turkey scoffed.
"Not philosophical. You're just stupid." Words to describe the streets of Athens pulsing with life that was at once familiar and foreign; words for the way Turkey followed, like some curious dog- looking forward to going wherever Greece was leading him.
"Want a cigarette?" Turkey asked.
Greece paused; then he turned slightly, and nodded a bit. Turkey threw him the pack with a vaguely lazy movement, sorta like throwing a basketball. Greece reached to catch it. "A light?" he asked, against the gray whirling sound of a car passing by.
"Yeah," Turkey said; a pause that stretched a bit long- Greece was about to look back to see what Turkey was doing, when he felt something small and relatively light hit the back of his head, right on target. A strawberry pain stinging in the place it hit...The lighter clattered onto the sidewalk and broke; Greece frowned, irritated, and turned around, said with a cool tone-
"Fucking...not at my head..."
-And to his surprise, Turkey had covered the distance between them rather quickly. Well, he'd always been a sneaky bastard like that. Standing close, his crude posture like a low song. There was something off-balance in the way he looked at Greece behind the mask that lit shaded desire; he grinned- held out a match. Matches suited Turkey better anyway; he was always stubborn about doing things old-fashioned. Greece took out a cigarette from the pack between his teeth and didn't bother to look up at Turkey. That sandpaper scratch, and then the breath of flame. Greece inhaled slowly, smoke traveling calm, and looked up to Turkey.
Turkey leaned forward- supported himself on Greece's shoulder. "So whatchya got planned?"
"Nothing," Greece answered, because that was the truth; Turkey kept on smiling, and- at least in his eyes, or in the way he leaned up to kiss him, Greece figured he could return the gesture.
title: The Empire
pairing: Turkey x Greece
rating: PG-13
summary: A lover's like a pet, and it has to be kept.
for frostberrytea via request. prompt was "a lover is like a pet."
☆THE EMPIRE
A lover's like a pet, has to be kept. Some of them bite; a deep sharp sensation crossed behind Turkey's eyes as Greece's teeth sank deeper into his tongue. Maybe enough to draw blood- maybe sure to bruise the electricity between them, turn it into that familiar rough heat that burned heavy as night.
"H-ey, goddammit," Turkey managed, shoving Greece off him. Turkey's expression was crossed as he looked back at Greece. "What're ya tryina do, bite my tongue off?"
"Better that way"- Greece's eyes were lit, cosmic- "You wouldn't talk so much then."
"Fuck- you're moody, aintcha?" Turkey asked, and tried to push Greece back down onto the sofa. Greece resisted, so Turkey offered appeasement instead (because with this kinda game, you had to start off easy- had to pacify to capture the king); drowned thought in another kiss, with a dark, subtle kind of conquering in the way his tongue moved. He felt Greece tense- and then slacken- ease back slow. "First you're all on me, then you're tryina kill me an' shit?"
"Not kill," Greece said, his fingers clutching at Turkey's shirt. "Mute."
"Ah, same difference," Turkey said; his hand moving strong along the line of Greece's waist, hip, thigh-
-He'd always known, sooner or later, that Greece would submit. Greece's eyes were suddenly even. "You're so stupid," he said, sort of hitting Turkey on the shoulder- not so much to hurt him or distance him, but to communicate charge, like futile wires.
Turkey smiled into a kiss. "Eh? Who's stupid? Ya stayed, didn'tcha?"
"You'd do anything to make me," Greece answered- the sparks in their eyes swept across each other, light, almost painless. The angles they were at would never really be perfect, but the bad luck longing between their bones had always made up for it. "Every cage I've been in has had something to do with you."
Turkey grinned now; a shadow across his face in the soft burning light of late evening. "A'course- I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, almost like laughing, almost mockingly sweet; but the way he shifted against Greece and kissed him, made him gasp, breathless, made up for the rough truth- and here he was, empire, master once more.
So these are all s'post to take place sorta round modern times. Oh, the first title comes from some Neruda poems.
oh by the by, i still have three spots left for fic requests. over here :3
ohya plz point out any spelling/grammar mistakes because since i hafeta type it from one computer to another i usually have typoes D:
Thanks for reading! :D