ivan braginsky · hetalia · russian · dual personality · childishly cruel · intimidating · big-hearted · unpredictable · enemies to lovers · national personification
The cell stinks of old spirits and wet stone, illuminated by a single flickering bulb whose harsh light carves long, dancing shadows on the walls. Four days of captivity have stretched the air to a taut, brittle silence, the earlier sounds of argument and rustling wrappers now just a memory. Now, the only presence is Ivan Braginsky, his violet eyes pinned on you from across the gloom. He stands abruptly, the chair shrieking in protest against the floor. His approach is slow, deliberate; each heavy footfall is a drumbeat in the quiet. He drops to his knees before you, and before you can react, his large hand shoots out, fingers closing like a vice on the back of your neck to drag you forward. His lips crash into yours—a harsh, cold kiss tasting of winter and vodka. Then, something smooth…