Chapter 1: The First HeadCanon
Russia's Puppies
Headcanon 1:
Russia tends to have nightmares, and it's Lithuania that normally goes to help him.
Headcanon 1.5:
Russia does not keep normal dogs anymore.
Characters:
Russia, Lithuania
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Wish I did because then we would have 30 minute episodes am I right
A/N: Idk about this. I've been working on this for he past few days or so- and I got into Hetalia about a month ago. I don't expect to get a lot of feedback either, but any at all would be great!
Also, I am going to make chapters for all my headcanons, starting with headcanon one! so expect more chapters or something!
I swear to god, I love RusLiet so much. :)
EDIT!
This chapter has been rewritten, after taking a long, hard look at it.
Lithuania's eyes blinked open at the feeling of Russia's cold breath tickling the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to tremble, shifting in the slightest, the bed creaking at his movement.
How many times had he woken up in this situation now? Russia, holding him lovingly, sharing the bed, his cold touch sending shivers down his spine.
Lithuania lost count long ago.
An arm looped under his waist, another petting and running through brown hair, embracing him in the scary-but-strangely-loving way that only Russia possessed. It
Toris tried to wriggle out of his grip, get those cold, masculine hands off him. For someone so warm and hot, Russia's touch and breath sent sensations throughout his body. Such sensations. . . they were indescribable. A simple blow from Russia's icey breath, such as the one on his nape, made his blood rush and every fiber of his being excite in a mad dash between terror and comfort. Wherever Russia's frigid hands petted, formed goosebumps in their wake, and sent a thrill that ran in leaps and bounds throughout his body. But still, somehow, such things made Liet feel comfortable.
But why?
Russia was a danger and a hazard to the world. Russia could conquer Europe if he wanted to. Russia terrified him, as he should.
But why did this feel so comfortable and safe, if this, in reality, made him vulnerable, and at Russia's mercy?
The Salvic's grip around his waist tightened, and pulled the Baltic closer, engulfing the smaller nation in his arms. His back pressed against Russia's oddly warm chest. In that moment, Lithuania shivered for many reasons. From the skin-on-skin contact, from the nation's strangely warm chest, from the chilly breath running down his neck, from the cold hand that rubbed his skin possessively, and from the cold fingers rubbing his scalp, running through his hair. And somehow, still asleep.
Or maybe half-awake.
Why did Russia always have to be so scary? Even in his sleep? Most people looked peaceful or cute when they slept! Like Latvia! Or Poland!
Toris forced himself to stop trembling, and he tried to wriggle away again, carefully and slowly. It felt wrong, to try and get away, leave Ivan to wake up in an empty bed, but to find a breakfast cooking downstairs. A part of him wanted to stay, to be wrapped in Ivan's embrace, but the other part, the majority, its message was clear:
GET AWAY WHILE YOU CAN THIS IS DANGEROUS CAN'T YOU SEE THAT YOU FOOL
But alas, Ivan's embrace only wrapped itself around the Baltic more, trapping him.
A hand moving away from his head, lightly brushing Liet's skin as it traveled down his side, then draping over Liet's chest, and taking its hold.
He gave up trying to get away, praying that Ivan's grip would either loosen or let go of him.
I hope Latvia and Estonia are awake. . . Mister Russia gets annoyed if he doesn't find breakfast made when he goes downstairs.
Toris laid there, Ivan's grasp tight and loving. The Baltic found himself staring at the wall before him, relaxing into Ivan's touch, wide awake. Again.
Damn Russia.
Damn me.
The bed shifted.
Lithuania let himself go limp, afraid of annoying, and thus angering, the other if he did not comply to his movements. The larger nation adjusted, his nose snuggling itself into the crook of his neck. A large puff of air, like a relaxed sigh, came from the other, and Liet released his breath.
He was so submissive these days, wasn't he? Letting Russia do these kind of things to him and with him.
On one hand- he almost hated waking up in the morning like this. In bed with another man, warm and cozy- No. But then, the thrill and the excitement of it. . . The way his body practically fitted and matched Russia's. . .
No.
Stop.
This is wrong. You know it is.
Then why did this feel so comfy?
It shouldn't be.
He should hate this. He should feel angered and ashamed of himself.
Then why didn't he?
On the other hand, this was better than waking up alone and cold, dreading the day. Lithuania shivered- even if he did protest to this, it wouldn't matter anyway. He knew that. Russia would win, Russia would be more forceful, Russia would be very unhappy, Russia would make him scream, and Russia would leave him, collapsed on the floor, begging for him to stop.
Protesting would always be in vain when it came to Russia.
Lithuania could remember when he first began to live under Russia's roof. He had been unhappy about it. No- unhappy was an understatement. He had defied Ivan's every order, cursed and insulted the larger nation.
And Russia only responded with a grin, and dragged him down into the basement.
Lithuania remembered his state when he came back out a week later. (At least, that's how long Estonia said he was gone.) He, in a manner of speaking, was shaped into the ideal servant for Ivan. The ideal servant being: trembling, stuttering, submissive, and his pride stripped. Liet preferred not to recall what happened down there. The screaming- the cuts- the crack and whack of a whip- the begging of Russia to stop- stop, and he would listen and be good and never think of disobeying him again.
He recalled being ruptured by writhing agony, almost choking on his own blood. . .
And all of that pain was like a long period of life. Like he had lived all the time of his real life in pain and torture, and that the time when existence had pleasure was a dream, long gone by.
He shivered.
He used to be so powerful. He used to be a force to be reckoned with!
A powerful empire! The Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and then The Commonwealth.
He had owned so much land in those days! He had so many cultures and races- Poland, The Teutonic Knights, Urkraine, Belarus, even parts of Russia himself!
And now, he was. . . this. Practically another man's. . . What word would be right? Man Servant? Employee with Benefits? Laborer? Slave? Friend? In an extremely twisted and awkward relationship?
Russia's bitch?
No- he couldn't be that. He didn't always awake in Russia's Bed, by force, or when Russia needed to fill his needs.
Sometimes, he came in here out of terror. (But why go to one terror when he escaped from another?)
Or, like last night, by choice.
Lithuania stilled, holding in his breath, as Russia snuggled him closer, like a child wrapping themselves around their stuffed toy. He relaxed in the embrace.
For example, last night, the three Baltics were woken up by terrible yelling and banging from the other side of the house.
Of course, they all knew who it came from, and why. Russia's nightmares. And, after past experiences of said nightmares, they long since learned that it would be better to have a happy Russia in the morning than a moody, upset, and guilty feeling Russia in the morning.
One of Lithuania's self-appointed jobs being to handle this side of Russia. The side of Russia that Ivan did everything to bury and hide. A side breaking down, that lost too much and seen too much war. The side that Russia rarely let anyone see, his only side that ever cried.
Lithuania pitied this side of his master. This side had a voice. Whether its voice screamed or broke down in sobs, words incoherent or babbling, the meaning behind its words were clear.
"I'm a monster! A monster! I don't deserve my existence!"
"I can't help it! The world has treated me cruelly! People, other nations. . ." (This was normally followed by some explanation of why he was this way.)
"I want help. I want friends. The Baltics are my friends, aren't they? No, they can't be. What kind of friends quake in fear at your presence?"
"Why can't I get any help? Don't I deserve any? A second chance? Maybe a way to get better? Why do I not deserve this?"
"Will somebody just please help me! Anyone?!"
"No. No one is coming to help. They're too afraid."
Lithuania wanted to be that help. He couldn't bare to just stand there and do nothing. Anything to quiet that side.
Toris began recalling last night.
-x-x-
The horrifying yelling and loud ruckus, like a small child being murdered, came from the other side of the house.
And so, he got out of bed, exiting the room, leaving an Estonia trying to comfort a startled Latvia.
Toris walked down the hall slowly, a small sigh coming from him. He couldn't let Estonia or Latvia do this- going into Russia's bedroom and calming him down and telling him everything would be okay.
Latvia would say something and only make the Slavic nation more emotional and become violent in the I'm-going-to-murder-you-but-I-love-you violent that Russia possessed.
On top of that, the only thing Latvia could endure was a lot of alcohol- besides that, the smallest Baltic could be a twig that Ivan would throw in the fireplace.
And Estonia?
The lucky bastard had been able to keep off Russia's bad side, and had only felt a scratch of Russia's torture, compared to himself and Latvia. He knew how to not piss Russia off, or even remove himself from the situation entirely.
Again, a lucky bastard.
Despite that, it didn't matter who, everyone would be the same when you lived under the roof of Russia.
You gave in.
It didn't matter how strong your will was, or how much pride you had, or how powerful you were, or how many nukes you had.
You are helpless in the face of Russia. You are weak compared to Russia. You gave into Russia.
Said Nation had long since pounded those words into the Baltics.
Prussia had shared that fate. He saw the German every now and then, down in the basement, but otherwise he wanted nothing to do with him. That mad cackling. . .
What did the Soviets do to East Germany?
But still- he couldn't let Russia hurt the other Baltics. They would brake. They couldn't endure the same.
Lithuania's hand now rested on the doorknob, sounds between whimpering and yelling clear from inside.
"Stop- Stop! Don't hurt them- Get away from them! Stop doing that! I'll kill you! I will kill you!" A strangled scream came from inside, and Lithuania considered leaving Russia to his nightmares.
No- Drunk and Moody Ivan in the morning must be avoided.
Ensure there is no Drunk and Moody Ivan in the morning.
Drunk and Moody Ivan in the morning would kick a puppy- or Latvia- and not regret it.
With a sigh, Lithuania twisted the knob, entering Russia's bedroom.
The arctic nation laid on his bed, curled up in a small and pathetic ball, blankets and pillows thrown off. Russia being shirtless, trembling and the softest, stifled sobs coming from him.
He looked so vulnerable, didn't he?
"No- no, my puppies, my puppies!"
How could you hate him when he looked like this?
Lithuania approached the sleeping Nation, carefully and slowly, until he was in arms reach.
He tapped Russia's shoulder, and jumped back. He didn't react.
Lithuania approached again, and gave Ivan's body a small push, and a gasp sounded out as the larger nation awoke. He stepped away from the bed, Russia sitting up and looking for whatever awoke him.
Amethyst eyes quickly honed in on him, and Lithuania began trembling. He could see that Russia was making an effort to reestablish his walls- trying not to show any weakness in front of his favorite Baltic.
"Litva," His trembling turned into shaking as Russia said his pet name. "why did you wake me?"
"You- You were screaming and yelling- s- sir. . . I- I wanted to make sure you were okay."
Hopefully Russia would dismiss him and let him go back to his own room- "Litva, can you come sit with me?"
Dammit.
Lithuania shuffled, sitting down on the bed next to the larger nation. Russia wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Lithuania's head, and pressing his arms against his side. Liet shivered, Russia's grip tightening around the Baltic like a teddy bear that he clung onto for life.
And now there would be no escape from Russia.
"Did I ever tell you about the little litter of puppies I got, Litva?"
Oh god- he hated this story.
"Um, no, sir."
"Say the right word." Russia commanded in that sweet but threatening tone.
"No- No- Master- you haven't told me about about the puppies."
Satisfied, Russia started his story.
"They were so adorable and cute. I don't remember how many there were, maybe twenty at least. I remember that when they all jumped on me, I would literally covered in adorable puppies and dogs. They were so cute and soft- so kind and innocent. They were all different puppies too- mangy or fluffy, white or black, multi-colored, and so many different breeds and ages. They all loved me, adored me, and I," He paused, starting to twirl Lithuania's hair between his fingers, trying to comfort himself. "loved them."
The Baltic shivered, feeling Russia kiss his hair once, lightly.
"One day, I came home after I had a visit with a scientist, Sergi Sergeyevich Brukhonenko, and my boss. And all my puppies were gone! All of them! And a few days later, I got a report in from someone, and it told of what happened to my adorable puppies." Lithuania didn't say anything, only letting Ivan touch him and continue his story.
"They killed them. Brukhonenko killed them all. My adorable puppies, all dead. They separated their body parts, and the worst part? Some of them, they beheaded. They wired a head to a machine, any they kept it alive. For hours and hours. They poked and prodded it- like a lab experiment. And some of them- they cut apart and sewn and attached a tiny dog to an adult dog."
Lithuania shivered, and Russia stopped playing with his hair. The hand moved down to brush and pet his back, and the Baltic forced himself to cease trembling.
"Although, on the bright side, if you want to call it that, some of them, they killed in natural way. Hooked valves up to the body's neck- and it was. . . indescribable to watch. I got drunk and wrapped Brukhonenko's neck in my hands- about to kill him, and then. . . " Russia paused, Liet could feel a hand travel away from his hair, and travel down his back then under his shirt, making small, icy circles in his skin. He sucked in a breath.
"They flipped on machine, and after few minutes, the dog began breathing again, his heart, beating!"
Russia's grip around his waist tightened, bringing him closer. "They were alive again, actually alive! And after ten days or so, they were up, walking and barking again. Completely normal dogs!" Pause.
"They wouldn't give them back to me, either. To study on, they said. An excuse." Russia silenced, finished with his story.
"That is why I don't keep dogs anymore, Litva. They remind me of my puppies. They remind me of what happened to Laika."
"That- That's a lovely story, Master." He just wanted to go back to bed. . .
"Do you think that would work with humans, Litva?"
Lithuania's body shook harder, and he wanted to get away before Ivan tried anything. And by anything, he meant inhumane and downright disgusting.
He just wanted to go back to his own bed.
"Litva- could- could you stay with me tonight?"
And going back to his own bed was not happening.
"Um- sure- Master. I guess so. . ."
He could feel Ivan's smile spread across the Russian's face, and Russia threw him back on the bed, on his side and snuggling against him.
"Perhaps little Litva can prevent nightmares, da? Or I prevent his?"
That being the last he heard before Ivan threw the covers over them, and made him fall into a fitful sleep against the Russian.
-x-x-
Lithuania blinked, staring at the wall, and he could noticed Ivan's breath suck in deeply. He shivered, Russia's grip loosening.
"Good morning, Litva."
Alright- what Russia is talking about are the Russian "Zombie Dog" experiments, done in 1939. Look it up, super creepy. And yeah- they would actually cut a smaller dog a behind their forearms, and sew it onto another dog. There's a ten minute video about it on YouTube.
Link: (youtube) /watch?v=KDqh-r8TQgs
um, if anyone has any corrections for me, please let me know! Also, they are speaking russian the whole time, and this chapter took place in the 1950s.
*Edit:*
What did y'all think of updated chapter?
The Next HeadCanon:
Russia and Germany are very strong drinkers. They have drinking contests from time to time, and normal you can't tell who wins, with them being even.