I don't own Hetalia

Out of Reach

When he first saw her, she was merely a child with defiance laced into her every movement. That deranged scowl on her lips and he knew that she was a colony that would be to an advantage, in some way. After all, it was his burden to enlighten her to the Christian ways. Though that brother of hers wouldn't allow a gracious Frenchman such as himself near her.

"您是一個奇怪的人" (You are a strange man.) She would say with a curious look lighting up her eyes. Of course he would never understand what she said save for the times that China translated. France would only smile at the small girl and pat her head. She would jolt and quickly move away from the unfamiliar touch.

After all, she didn't want such a strange white man touching her head. It was only a gesture for Big Brother China.

Then, he took her away with her biting, hissing, and kicking the entire way. Her loud protests when he had his men gag and cuff her. After all, she was a teenager when he took her away from her independence.

"Hãy để tôi đi!"(Let me go!) She shouted, not lowering herself to pleading as the man towed her away from her beloved family.

When he showed her where he lived, she didn't say a word, not even a gesture as he took her straight to her room. Her hands wound into fists as she glared at the Frenchman as hard as she could. She wouldn't speak to him. He would never understand. So, she punched him as hard as she could in the jaw. It brought back her brute nature that she had when China found her in the jungles of Vietnam.

The next thing he did surprised her, a sharp hand whipped across her face—making her reel across the room while holding her cheek. Tears stinging at her eyes.

"Stupide petite fille," (Stupid little girl) France said with almost amusement stinging his voice, "vous n'êtes pas apte à lutter."(You are not fit to fight.)

She had yet to understand his strange flowing tongue, so she simply stared and lunged at him again. Wanting to make red on his face.

He quickly caught her and pinned her to the ground. His large body hovering over her smaller one. Angry tears would spill as he opened old wounds and she would chant the same thing over and over, "Tôi ghét bạn, tôi ghét bạn, tôi ghét bạn" (I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.)

Even during this, he made her stay, bandaged her old wounds, and treated her like a French Woman. Teaching her the language, though she would sparsely use, as well as English, once again, sparsely used, but as she grew, he couldn't help but watch her steadily grow stronger. Realizing why she had rebelled against China earlier on. Independence. That thing that every colony wanted. It was something she had gained, before he came around.

Though now she was curious about him, blatantly wandering around his house like the child she used to be. Though she still held disdain for what he made her do. Especially the intricate clothes. The corsets that cut into her skin, the broad dresses that made her skin itch, and that make up he made her wear irritated her skin.

Sometimes he would just catch her wandering around in her underwear: those flimsy undergarments that ran from her ankles to her wrists with a frilled collar. Such as today.

"Mon Cheri?" He asked when he heard her toes quickly padding across the hard wood floor. She quickly jerked up and he realized it was another one of those nights. One where she refused to wear proper clothing.

"Soar-rie," She said, stumbling a little with her English. "Sorrei, so—"

He cut her off with a finger to her lips and a small, hesitant smile, "Lien, I much prefer eet eef you speak een French."

A slight flush came to her cheeks and she pursed her lips in irritation, "Que faites-vous dehors tellement tard?"(What are you doing out so late?)

He gave her an appraising look, "Je n'ai jamais pensé que vous vous inquiéteriez."(I never thought you would worry.)

Her blush deepened and she quickly reverted back to her native tongue, "Tôi đã không phải lo lắng," (I wasn't worried)—he gave her a sharp look—"Je n'ai pas été inquiété." (I wasn't worried)

He gave her a small smile again and traced a finger down her jaw line, before looking at her again. She had grown so much.

"May I have zis dance?" Francis asked her with a hand held out and she stared at him in surprise, she was only in her underwear and he was asking her to dance and he was testing her English.

"Yes," She responded with one of the only words she could pronounce correctly. He swept her across the room, one hand at her waist and the other in her's. It wasn't that far away when she began to lead him.

"Lien, ze man must lead," He instructed with a chuckle.

She thought about it for a quick minute, "Non."

He laughed again and began to try and take back control, but she wouldn't allow it. It seemed as though the dance was beginning to change, it involved a lot more of their body's touching. The dominance they wanted over each other could be felt through the pressing of his fingers against her hand and each step that she took. With one step, she had her leg between both of his.

Both people were breathing heavily and his hands moved to a far more provocative position on her body as he looked her over once more. She was no longer the child he found with China and no longer that Teenager that he had taken, she was grown now. She surely wasn't as voluptuous as a French woman, but she was made up of eye-pleasing lines with elegant curves thrown in.

"Je T'aime," (I love you) He whispered.

She scoffed and began to pull from his grasp, "Ne gaspillez pas mon temps avec les mots vides."(Don't waste my time with empty words)

He continued until the final words came: I'll prove it.

She gave him a challenging look, almost as if she was daring his words when he pulled her closer.

The Vietnamese woman barely had the time to catch her breath when the Frenchman placed his lips atop her's, beginning chaste and deepening quickly. To her, it was his game that she didn't want to play. To him, she was the chase that was just out of his reach. Though now, now she was so close to his grasp, he could just barely taste it.

The situation quickly escalated to the point of nudity and where he was mounting her against the wooden floor beneath them. It was almost like it was a synchronized dance that molded their bodies. Telling the story of pleasure and pain, sending ripples of sensations across their very souls.

Though, he knew it couldn't be so beautiful for so long.

It was only years later when she held a gun to his head when defiance tinged in her eyes. There wasn't any mercy, just the need that she had. The need for independence.

She had never been in his reach.

A/N: Once again, this is for a kink meme. I'm still waiting for Hidekaz to announce her as an actual character.

Lien means Lotus in Vietnamese, which is Vietnam's national flower, which is why I called her that.

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