Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4365962.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Hetalia:_Axis_Powers, 2P_Hetalia_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      America_(Hetalia)/Romania_(Hetalia), 2P_America/Other, 2P_England/2P
      France, 2P_England/2P_Spain, 2p_England/2p_Spain/2p_S._Italy, 2p_America/
      Devil_Romania, 2p_America/Devil_Romania/Angel_Romania, OC/OC
  Character:
      America_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), 2P_America, 2P_England, 2P_France, 2P
      Canada, Romania_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), Devil_Romania, Angel_Romania,
      Many_OCs_that_come_in_later_on, 2P_Italy, 2P_South_Italy
  Additional Tags:
      Rape_later_on, Plot_twists_and_headcanons, Written_based_off_of_an_RP,
      Mpreg, Devil_and_Angel_universes, Tags_will_be_added_on_as_this_is_still
      a_work_in_process, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Angst, Fluff, Smut,
      Deviltalia, Demontalia, Angeltalia, Angels, Demons, Devils
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-07-18 Updated: 2015-10-24 Chapters: 9/? Words: 8810
****** A World Never Imagined ******
by system_writer_of_five
Summary
     The life of an immortal, through the eyes of the 'evil'
     personifications of England, France, America and Canada, is not what
     a simple mortal might believe it to be. Suffering, pain, despair and
     death come as often as happiness, laughter, joy and merrymaking. Join
     them, and many others, as they go on their adventure through life as
     family, friends, enemies, lovers and soldiers of war. *The main focus
     will be upon America and will /not/ be a slice of life story*
Notes
     This is based off of a year plus long roleplay, so some details may
     not make sense at first as I am going off of what I remember and from
     my single perspective. I will try my hardest though!
     This story will have rape, mpreg, self-harm, suicide (kind of) and
     smut (though it may be glossed over somewhat). I will attempt to
     section off the more graphic scenes so you are able to skip them, but
     please be aware that they /will/ happen.
     If you are ready to handle all of this and read what has been my life
     for the better part of a year, please continue....
***** Axis Arc, Chapter 1 *****
If one was mortal, they might believe that being immortal would be a dream come
true. If a mortal was to speak to Allen at that moment, they would see that an
immortal life does not bar one from suffering.
“I might not have the prettiest smile….or the biggest muscles….or the warmest
heart….or anything.”
Allen kicked a rock on the concrete with a sigh. His hands were stuffed inside
of his jeans as he looked upon the ground, whispering to himself.
“Whatever. I have nothing.”
Just as he was about to kick the rock again, Allen felt a light tug upon his
dark brown jacket.
“What seems to be the matter, Poppet?”
‘Am I near their house?’ He didn’t think he had walked that far.
Allen shrugged his arm out of Oliver’s grip.
“Nothing’s wrong, Oliver.”
This made Oliver frown and wrap an arm around Allen’s shoulders. When Allen
looked up a moment later, a smile was back on his face.
“Come now! Francois and Matt are both at my house, sick as dogs! Why don’t we
go and make them some cupcakes to cheer them up? ”
The thought of helping his family, even if it was most likely only going to
help Oliver, made Allen’s bad mood deteriorate slightly as he was practically
dragged off to the British man’s house.
Allen and Mat had both been raised by Oliver and Francois, though the brothers
had always spent more time with Oliver than Francois. The French man had taken
a liking to his young, Canadian son almost immediately, but this never seemed
to reach Allen in the same way. This led to Mat receiving more attention as he
had both of their parents caring for him. Mat always made a point to include
Allen and protect him from harm to make up for this though.
As Oliver opened the door, birds cheeping and wind chimes spinning, he only had
a split second the shout, "Duck!" before practically dragging Allen to the
floor with him. Immediately after, what looked to be a teapot soared over their
heads and smashed on the pavement, ruining the perfect serenity of the morning.
"Francois Bonnefoy! That better not have been my bone china!"
As Oliver stalked indoors, clutching Allen's arm to keep him securely by his
side, a grumbling Frenchman passed them with an unlit cigarette in his mouth.
Oliver nearly sighed.
"No smoking, Franny! You're supposed to be getting better, and smoking only
makes things worse, now doesn't it?"
A grunt and a cigarette being flung in their direction was the only response
they got, and Oliver was soon smiling brightly again.
"Good! No drinking either, you know I hate the stuff."
As Francois made his way back to the couch he was lying on, face still flushed
with fever and eyes slightly glazed, Oliver turned back to Allen; seeing the
faraway look in his eyes and hoping he wasn't getting sick too.
“Dear?”
Allen shook himself at the sound of Oliver’s voice, not having noticed they
were already in the living room. Francois lay on the couch, eyes slightly
glazed and face flushed with fever. Mat could easily be heard sneezing
upstairs.
‘Geez! How bad is this?’
Oliver looked between the two men, smile starting to strain his face. With all
of the running around he had to do to watch the sick men, he had completely
forgotten his pills over the last two days. It was starting to wear his mind
very thin. Seeing Allen so upset and withdrawn didn’t help matters either.
“Here to help?”
Francois’ voice sounded rough. Not that it didn’t usually sound rough; years of
smoking and drinking had warped the French man’s voice into something that
resembled a stereotypical pirate or cowboy.
‘Not that he is either of those things anymore. It just sounds creepily deep
like them.’
“If I can, yeah” was Allen’s short answer. A crash from the threshold between
the kitchen and the living room caught both men’s attentions as they looked
over to see Oliver bending over to grab at something.
“….sick…HAHA!...can’t…not…anymore….”
Allen was only able to catch every word or so, but the crazed laugh in the
middle alerted him to what was going on. In the days before Oliver’s medicine
was available, Allen and Mat had been taught to run in the opposite direction
when they heard their ‘Daddy’ acting like this. Oliver off of his medicine was
capable of anything, irregardless of who his target was or where they were at
the moment. He had been sent away to an asylum many times by Francois for this
very reason. Oliver always came back feeling regret and depressed for what he
had done.
‘The asylum never really helped him though. His strength and unwillingness to
hurt us is what usually saved our lives.’
“Oliver-“
Allen raised his hands to show he meant no harm as he slowly stood up, Oliver’s
eyes now trained on him.
“Oliver, you need to take your medicine-“
Francois’ voice had spoken up, the man now sitting up slowly.
“Heeeeey!”
A whine came from the stairway, telling Allen just how sick Mat was in order
for his voice to sound so nasally and wheezed. The Canadian froze on the stairs
when he took in the scene though. Mat coming onto the scene seemed to fuel
Francois’ sick body up from the couch and onto his feet.
“Oliver-!”
This seemed to finally make the British man snap as he launched himself at his
lover.
“Mat, stay upstairs!” Allen called out worriedly, rushing quickly into the
kitchen as Francois tried to defend himself.
‘Please don’t tell me they moved it!’ In cases such as this, a shot form of the
medication had been developed that would equal the amount of one dosage if
injected into the neck of the patient. Oliver always made sure to have at least
two on hand in case he snapped.
‘There!’
Allen snatched it up quickly, tearing away the plastic sheath on the metallic
end and rushed back into the other room to look for an opening. Francois
spotted the edge of Allen’s shoes in the corner of his eye.
‘1…2…3!’
The French man allowed himself to be flipped onto his back once again while
Oliver seemed to be screaming nonsense above him.
“-take me!”
Allen froze when a floorboard shifted behind the fighting pair, making Oliver’s
already heightened paranoia spike.
“No!”
A hand whipped out and threw Allen down against the table. Pain ran down the
side of his head, but he didn’t have time to worry about the feeling of liquid
seeping from the side of his head.
‘Just stay still!’
Allen, now annoyed, launched himself at Oliver and pinned him down as he
finally stabbed the needle into his neck.
“Calm. Down.”
Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief as Oliver’s swirling
pink eyes settled back down into their normal blue.
“W-What-?” Allen climbed off of Oliver, dropping the needle and heading for the
stairway. Francois wrapped his arms around his lover, hushing him and insisting
that none of this was his fault. This never stopped Oliver from blaming himself
though.
‘I could have killed them! How can they stand living with a monster like me?!
If Allen wasn’t here- Francois and Mat are sick!’
Oliver clung onto his lover, taking comfort from his hold. He only allowed
himself to do this for a moment though as his worry for his family won over his
guilt. He sniffled a few more times before shaking his head.
“You need your rest! I-I’ll make everyone some cupcakes and tea! Yes, that
should work!”
Knowing better than to protest, Francois allowed himself to be helped into bed.
Allen was doing something similar with Mat upstairs.
The Canadian had tried coming down to ask for something to drink, but Allen
insisted he lie down.
“Seriously, Mat. You look like sh*t.”
Cursing was a no-no around Oliver, so the brothers made sure to watch their
mouths around him.
“Blame Matthew.”
When one nation got sick, it tended to affect their counterpart in much the
same way. Allen winced sympathetically, having been on the wrong end of
Alfred’s stomach aches and flu symptoms too many times to count. He even handed
his brother a tissue when he looked about to sneeze he felt that bad.
“Good thing is that you’ll be better soon enough. You know how Francis and
Matthew get. Spend too long in the cold hanging out and they both get a cold
for a few days.” Mat grumbled something along the lines of “it’s not you
suffering” before laying down in bed.
If only everything could have stayed so normal…
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     From here on in, my lovely roleplay partner will be helping out with
     certain scenes and with writing from her character's point of view.
     I would also like to apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but
     I had to split it in two in order for it to not be super, super long!
After an awkward moment of silence, Allen stood up once again and stretched his
arms up above his head. His fingers brushed against his wound, reminding him of
what exactly was making him feel so tired and out of it.
“I’m going to head to the bathroom.”
Mat groaned in response, rolling over in an attempt to get some rest. Allen
rolled his eyes and headed off down the hallway.
‘You stupid idiot. You stressed Oliver out and look what happened.’
Depressed thinking hit him hard as he closed the door to the bathroom, leaning
his head against the door for a moment.
‘Papa could have been killed!’
Papa and Daddy. No matter how many centuries went passed, Allen always thought
of them as his parents. He never called Francois anything other than Papa when
speaking to him or speaking to his family in regards to the man. Mat did that
sometimes, but he called Oliver ‘Dad’ more often.
Allen stumbled over to the sink and gripped the sides of the marble counter,
tears blurring his vision.
‘I-‘
A crash came from downstairs and, for a moment, Allen thought that Oliver had
somehow snapped again. That was next to impossible on his medication though.
Footsteps.
‘Can’t be Mat. He’s practically dead to the world. Oliver maybe? Or maybe Papa
trying to get me to help with something?’
They stopped right before the bathroom door. Just as Allen was about to call
out, the door was kicked in and the American’s blood ran cold.
“Hello, Allen!”
It had all happened so fast; Oliver barely had time to register the smash of
the door swinging open before he was shoved to the ground. They had found them.
Luciano, Lutz and Kuro had been dead set on ridding the world of his family and
their current allies for years. The Axis had finally tracked down their little
family, and were going to make sure they didn't lose them again. Of course,
Oliver could have picked a more secretive location to hide, but honestly he
didn't expect the Italian-lead group to be that efficient in searching.
"Unhand me!" Oliver's voice sounded terribly small with everything going on,
yet surprisingly Luciano seemed to be leading everything quite quietly. Or at
least, when Oliver opened his mouth to scream for Allen to run away, a rag was
roughly shoved into it - setting off his gag reflex and making him choke on his
own words.
What happened next was a little hazy, as when a boot came down on him, it
knocked a great deal of sense out of his smaller body. Yet Oliver recognized
the growled French threats, as well as the hum of a car engine and soon the
enraged howling of an ensnared Canadian. It reassured Oliver that Francois and
Mat seemed relatively okay, though both sounded a little worried at the British
man's unresponsive behavior. Luckily for them, Oliver blacked out before
hearing Allen shrieking bloody murder, or he'd probably have a heart attack
from all the horrid swearing!
Allen’s first reaction was to completely ignore the shouts from his family,
knowing he had to focus if he wanted to have any hope of them escaping this
alive.
Luciano seemed to almost gain strength at the sounds of the chaos he was
creating because when he threw himself at Allen a second later, the American
struggled to throw him off.
“Get the f*ck off of me!”
A tanned fist came down and smashed his nose. Allen once again ignored this,
but used the Italian’s position against him and kicked him off hard enough to
hear him hit the wall.
Of course, Allen didn’t see this as he bolted out of the room and down the
hallway. His gaze flicked to Mat’s empty room just long enough to see that the
Canadian was gone before he ran down the stairs.
Lutz and Kuro were always silent during these altercations, but Allen never had
the faintest clue why. They were both intelligent and could hold conversation
fairly well, though it seemed to be the opposite whenever they attacked their
family.
“F*ck! Mat?! Francois?! Oliver?!”
Allen heard chuckling from the stairwell belonging to his Italian opponent.
‘D*mn it! I need a weapon!’
His bat was at his house and Mat’s hockey stick was upstairs.
Allen threw his arms up reflexively when Lutz’s whip aimed at him, but ducked
just as fast. Leaving the leather to crack in the air where his chest had just
been, Allen bolted for the kitchen.
“Don’t just stand there!”
Luciano’s irritated command spurred Allen to yank open the utensil drawer and
pull out the largest knife he could find.
‘Yes! Now I-!’
The sharp feeling of metal rested against his throat.
“Did you really think you could beat us?”
The mocking whisper was the last thing he would hear before a cloth was shoved
over his face and the world went black.
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: torture ahead!
Waking up in a dingy, chilly room with a blinding headache was bad enough.
Waking up in absolute darkness was worse, and it sent Oliver's heart racing the
moment his beryl-blue eyes fluttered open.
"H-hello?"
No answer, but Oliver could feel someone in the... Room? Was he even in a room?
He couldn't see to tell.
"Is anyone there?"
Ah, an answer this time, no matter how abrupt the sharp 'shh!' was. The Brit
was having a hard time finding his bearings in the dark, feeling very
discombobulated as he couldn't see what he was doing. Yet years of living alone
without electricity in the old day had given him good hearing, so when soft
groaning was heard, it didn't go unnoticed.
"A-Allen? Mat? Are you there?" Another groan, then a hiss of pain and a
muttered swear word. Only Mat would swear when he knew Oliver was listening, so
Allen must still be too out-of-it to react.
"Stupid f*cking Axis." Another shushing from whoever was in the room with them,
yet Oliver didn't take any notice.
"Mat! Oh gosh, I'm so happy you're okay! Where are you? Where are /we/? How are
we going t-!"
Footsteps.
Oliver froze, eyes straining in the darkness to see whoever - or whatever - was
making such heavy footfalls. The moment a light suddenly came on (a flickering
bulb which barely illuminated the room) the Brit felt himself press again the
wall. No wait, not a wall. Bars. Cell bars.
"Well, well, well. Look who we have here," Luciano sneered, a smirk on his face
and a spark in his eyes. "The great, wonderful, /powerful/ Allies! It took us
an awful long time to track you all down, but we did it, and we did it in
style. My brother would be proud!" The Italian snickered, Lutz grinning and
chuckling behind him as Kuro stayed as emotionless as always.
Oliver could now see that the two nations in the cell with him were Nikolai and
Xiao, the Russian standing and leaning against the only solid wall, and the
Chinese nation busy sending Kuro death-glares. Much to Oliver's dismay, the
other three men were in a separate cell, and he could clearly see that Mat was
helping a bleeding Allen sit up, while Francois remained drumming his fingers
against the bars of the cell. Somehow, he still looked rather bored. Yet
Luciano's next actions changed that completely.
"What is it you want from us, hooy morzhovy?" Nikolai asked, accented voice
generally rather cold. Oliver was glad he didn't understand the insult at the
end of the question. Luciano didn't either, or maybe he just didn't react to it
as he answered.
"We want information. And then we want to beat the living crap out of you,
whether we get the information or not. It is your choice to either give us what
we want and stay alive longer, or stay silent and die."
Of course the Allies weren't willing to give up any information, yet the Axis
seemed just as patient to sit in the only chairs and watch their prisoners
whisper among themselves. Nikolai had forcibly dragged Oliver to his feet and
over to the far side nearest the other cell, so the six of them could group
around it and speak a bit more privately. Though overall, with some minor
arguing, they decided that they weren't going to give up anything, and that
Luciano could give hurting them his best shot. Little did they know that he
would gladly try.
Allen blinked a few times when he could finally see the room in focus, unable
to believe they had honestly been captured.
‘We can’t be too far away though… I know I wasn’t out for that long!’
He looked over to his side, nearly flinching when he saw how high strung
Francois seemed to be in the presence of their current enemies. Current being
the operative word, as alliances changed all of the time. This was different
though. These three seemed to just plain have it out for their small family,
thus dragging whomever their current allies were into whatever argument they
wanted to have.
"Fine," the Italian answered, when Mat rudely told them to go shove their offer
where the sun doesn't shine. "But you will pay the consequences. Starting
with..."
Luciano's eyes raked over the group of nations before him, until a feral grin
grew on his tanned face and he nodded at Lutz. "Him."
Protests from Allen (“Take me, you f*cker!”), threats from Francois and growls
from Mat filled Oliver's head as strong, calloused hands grabbed him by the
collar of his smart shirt - near on choking him. Clumsy yet powerful fingers
dragged Oliver from the cell, practically ripping the cerulean bow tie from his
body as he was dumped into an uncomfortable chair. Oliver barely registered
what was happening before thick rope coiled around his pink-splashed frame,
binding his hands to the arms of the chair and his ankles to the legs.
"Wh-what? No! No!"
There was the reaction Luciano was hoping to see; the panic alighting in those
wide, watery eyes and fear radiating from every freckle on his target's body.
The background noise from the other prisoners was a nice touch too.
Allen felt like he was going to be sick, though he knew it was also in part
from his injury.
Francois looked no better and, if he wasn’t sick, would have probably been
kicking the bars as hard as he was able.
Once Oliver was appropriately attached to the chair, which in turn was nailed
to the floor, Luciano took his place before him. "Now, I'll give you one final
chance to give us the information we need."
Oliver shuddered, though his eyes didn't leave Luciano as he screwed up his
courage and shook his head. Usually he'd be fine with this sort of thing, as
after all, it was no secret what his hobby used to be. Yet Luciano knew his
weaknesses and knew how to really get to him, and that was what terrified him.
"No. You can go choke on a cactus."
Luciano simply grinned wider, and nodded, saying, "Good, good. That was what I
was hoping. You know, I'm really going to enjoy this. It's not every day I get
to beat a former empire to a pulp, though after all, you're not much of an
empire nowadays, are you? Not since... Well, you know."
Oliver froze up, opening his mouth to retort that it was none of his business,
yet all that came out was a sudden gasp of pain, as someone (probably Kuro as
he had such sure hands) decided it would be a good idea to twist the index
finger of his left hand around.
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Mild torture and blood in this chapter
"They'll be more, Kirkland," Luciano murmured, eyes trained on Oliver's pale
face as the shouts of the other nations began to fade. Oliver didn't dare look
at them, knowing it would hurt more.
"Kuro."
Another twist and an effective snap, making Oliver suck in a hissing breath.
"Just talk, Brit. Just. Talk."
Snap. Snap. Two more fingers, and Oliver was sure it looked horrendous. But he
daren't look.
"You're good at talking, aren't you Oliver?" After a whole hand of broken
fingers, Luciano held up a hand to stop Kuro from going further, and the
Italian's tone changed into something else. Something softer.
"You talk about anything and everything. You enjoy bragging, gossiping, lying.
You find it fun to chatter on and on about your old empire. But you don't like
it when someone else mentions it. That's a little unfair, hmm?"
Oliver, now shaking slightly, looked up at Luciano and curled his lip.
"Wh-what were you b-ba-back then, huh? A b-baby under the w-w-wing of your g-
grandpa!"
In the cells, Mat whispered an incredibly rude word under his breath, as he
clearly recognized the borderline-crazed tone Oliver had adopted. Combined with
the twitching, Mat wasn't looking forward to the following events.
“He’ll be alright.” Allen whispered encouragingly, though even he was grabbing
onto Mat’s arm as if he could protect him from the sight as he did so many
times when they were children.
Luciano shrugged. "Maybe, but at least I could keep those I had with me. Unlike
you."
A quick movement of Luciano's hand and Oliver's throat was being held between
his fingers, the Brit gasping like a fish out of water. "Let's talk more about
your chatterbox attitude, hmm? You couldn't resist bragging that you owned the
'New World', just like you couldn't just tell that little boy that he should be
quiet and go to bed when he asked you what the definition of a certain two-
syllable word meant." Luciano released Oliver, the Brit slumping in his seat,
breathing heavily.
Allen had to be physically restrained by the weakened Francois at the mention
of his old title. He didn’t mind it when his parents called him as such as they
usually used it in storytelling and memory recall, but Luciano almost used it
as an insult. And to even mention that day-! Luciano was treading into
dangerous territory…. “Let go of me!” He hissed in annoyance, all pain
forgotten. Francois shot him a glare, making him flinch and quiet down. ‘When
Oliver is safe, the Italian is dead!’
Luciano began to circle the ensnared Brit, speaking to him in a deadly low
voice. From the cells, they couldn't make out any of the soft words, though
Oliver's reactions made them clear. Nikolai wasn't paying much attention, too
busy looking for a way out while trying to act like he wasn't looking for a way
out. Though he'd sort of already found his key out of there, quite literally.
Lutz was known to be clumsy and not prone to thinking his plans through. So
when he reached in to grab out Oliver, it had been easy for Nikolai to reach
into the belt and grab out a ring of keys. Now he had to just find a time to
open the cell door without being caught. A sudden shout from Oliver distracted
the Russian from his train of thought, and he peered over at the Brit to see
him practically screaming at Luciano. Though it was hard to make out the words,
as Oliver didn't seem to be making much sense.
Luciano wasn't reacting much, until Oliver straightened himself out as much as
he could and promptly spat on his shoes.
There was a moment of silence. Of absolute and uninterrupted stillness. Allen
felt dizzy with how choking the atmosphere had become. Yet it was shattered
when - quick as lightening - Luciano's fist connected to Oliver's face, a
painfully loud crack echoing around the room. The target's howl of agony didn't
make it any better, but what was worse was the second hit. It cut off Oliver's
screams until he was just gurgling, forced to slump down or become subject to
choking on his blood.
"Those were Louis Vuitton," was the only thing Luciano said, more of a hiss,
before he whipped around and began to stalk out the room, waving for his allies
to do what they wished to Oliver.
The Italian paused at the base of the stairs out of the basement they were all
in, and as an afterthought called back, "Make sure he dies slowly, and make
sure his 'family' watch. I'm sure they'd thank me for silencing his pointless
chatter. Other than that, do what you want." With that, Luciano strode away,
his boots clicking on the stairs.
Luciano had been the main threat to the allies as he was the most calculating
and seemed to be in charge. The problem with the remaining two though was that
they were easier to trigger into violence. Allen nearly wept with relief when
he saw the tell-tale glint of metal in Nikolai’s hands. “Nikolai has the keys.”
He whispered quietly, mind running a mile a minute. The three of them weren’t
in the best shape, but they would buck up for Oliver.
“Mat, Papa, I’m going to bring those idiots over here. You be ready to either
smash their faces in or grab Oliver. Whatever you can find an opening for.
Ready?”
If someone were to ask Allen how they had managed to get out of the cells, he
would have to honestly say he didn’t know. The adrenaline, fear and anxiety of
the situation had blurred his memory to the point he had to think as to why
Oliver was covered with blood.
Lutz and Kuro lie unconscious on the floor. Mat, who looked unsteady on his
feet, had used the Japanese man’s sword to cut Oliver loose and eased him
slowly to his feet between himself and Francois. Nikolai and Xiao were going to
stay behind to interrogate the unconscious men.
Allen led his beat up family out the same way Luciano had left. Every shadow,
every creak, as they made their way down a hallway that led to the supposed
exit made Allen only tense up more.
When he felt the snap of a tripwire, he was hardly surprised.
*Blood warning*
BANG!
Allen dropped to the floor in pain, biting his lip tightly to hold in his cries
of pain. Luciano, the sadistic man he was, hadn’t wanted to leave the men
without a parting gift. A tripwire activated shot gun had been set up for the
next person to leave after him. Blood stained the floor, his fingers, his
clothes, it almost seemed to never end.
*Warning end*
When Allen saw Mat about to drop Oliver’s arm to rush over though, he threw a
hand up.
“No! I’m fine. Keep your hold on him. I’ve dealt with worse.”
Getting up was the hardest part, the pain nearly blinding him, but soon the
four of them stumbled out into the sunlight.
‘Thank g-d…’
They were about four blocks away from their house in one of the ‘for lease’
shops off of a side road.
“Come on.”
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 5 *****
When Oliver jerked awake, eyes flying open and mouth forming a silent scream of
pain, he found the world dark, so obviously began to panic. Though once the
Brit established that he wasn't blind and it was simply very early in the
morning, he calmed down again. Well, as much as one could calm down upon
knowing that a group of very deadly nations were chasing after you and wanted
your head on a stake. Though Oliver preferred to keep positive, so shook this
thought away in favor of attempting to sit up.
He found that most of his bones had healed overnight, thanks to increased
nation healing speed, but a few ribs still ached when he breathed, and he swore
his nose was never going to be perfectly straight again. It was already
slightly wonky from when Allen had hit him after declaring independen- happy
thoughts, Oliver!
Sitting up, Oliver sighed and peeked over at the clock on the far wall, wincing
at the incredibly early time.
'I may as well go take my pills for the day. Better early than late...'
Acting upon that thought (or trying to), Oliver steeled himself and began to
push himself up to his feet, hissing in pain as his unsteady feet touched the
carpeted floor. He was glad the room was empty of other people. He didn't want
anyone to see him in such a state. Oliver was sure his hair was disgraceful and
his makeup covering his freckles had all rubbed off. It would be a disaster to
be seen like this!
Oliver sighed at the thought as he tried to walk to the kitchen, ignoring the
sharp pain running through his left leg at every step. It probably just hadn't
healed properly - oh well.
Soon Oliver was standing in the now-illuminated kitchen, rummaging around in
the medicine cupboard for his little pot of red pills. It was peculiar that
they were a bright crimson color, but Oliver never questioned it. Why bother if
they worked nonetheless?
Allen awoke a moment later with a small moan of pain.
'Why does everything hurt?'
Last night, heck the whole day, was a massive blur. Putting a hand to his head
brought back some memories though.
'Right. I was hurt and shot. Oliver- Oliver!'
He looked over at the other couch and became panicked when he didn't see the
injured nation. The bullet was still in his leg, so it had yet to heal, but his
head hurt less than the day before. He stumbled up to his feet with a hiss of
pain.
'The kitchen.' Of course that's where the tea-loving British man would be.
"Morning." Allen said, using the wall for balance as he came over to the man.
"How do you feel?"
Oliver jumped, turning around quickly with the pills clutched in one hand,
though he visibly relaxed upon seeing that it was only Allen.
"You startled me," Oliver murmured, then shook his head and smiled wryly.
"Worse than I look, I can bet."
A small laugh left the Brit's bruised mouth, and he winced as he began to
trundle over to the sink to run himself a glass of water.
"You shouldn't be up yet. You need your strength for our escape plan, hmm? That
is, if we've even gathered an escape plan yet... Whose house are we in? I
recognize the basic layout, but it's too dark to see much else."
Allen thought on that as well, not having paid much attention when they were
escaping.
"I think it's Mat's place? Maybe?" He shrugged his shoulders again. "And I'm
fine. Just a few injuries here and there, that’s all."
Even though his injuries were still unhealed. There was no way he was going to
bring up his minor injuries though when Oliver had nearly been beaten to death
the day before. He had done enough complaining in his life while the man before
him sacrificed his own well-being to keep them safe.
"I have handled worse. It's not that big of a deal."
He limped over to stand across from Oliver. Walking was getting easier and
easier the longer he stood, but he suspected this was because his leg was
growing numb from lack of blood flow rather than healing.
"Mat and Francois are asleep upstairs. Why don't you go lie down and I'll make
us some breakfast?"
Oliver shook his head with a smile, flapping a hand.
"I can do it. You go back to bed. You need more rest than me."
Oliver wouldn't admit that he just liked having both 'his boys' under the same
roof again. Now he could take care of them like he used to!
"How about pancakes? Yes... They sound good. Just like the ones I used to make,
hmm? Pancakes."
Oliver spoke half to Allen and half to himself as he limped across the kitchen,
nearly forgetting about the open pot of pills in his hand.
"Oliver."
Allen's voice was strained, bordering on annoyed, as he limped forwards.
"I can handle breakfast for once. Seriously. You nearly died yesterday and you
should relax for a day."
This was his chance to repay Oliver for the past.
'He really does look terrible though....'
Oliver fixed Allen with a look - one with raised bushy-brows and a tight mouth.
"I'm fine," he articulated, stressing the second word to hopefully get his
point across.
"I'm the United Kingdom, former British Empire. I can handle a little fight!"
Oliver 'hmmph'ed and turned back around, pills clicking together in their pot
as he moved. Where did Mat keep his mugs?
"And anyway, it's not every day that I get to cook for my little boys again!
Now, be a good lad and get me out the eggs."
Now thoroughly annoyed, Allen grabbed up the eggs and placed them down on the
counter.
How long would it be until Oliver treated them like the adults they were?!
“You know,” He couldn’t help but snap, “your ‘little boys’ saved your life
yesterday. The least you could do is treat us with some respect!”
Oliver just hummed and popped a frying pan on the stove, surprised he could
even find one. Yet the sudden tenseness to his shoulders showed how
uncomfortable he was with this conversation.
"I do treat you with respect," Oliver replied easily, placing the pill pot down
on the counter so he could reach up and grab out a mixing bowl.
"I'm grateful for your help yesterday, but I would have been fine regardless!
Lutz barely smacked me with that whip, and Kuro only got my fingers and back."
Well that was a blatant lie. Lutz had left welts over Oliver's chest like
mountains and Kuro had all but wrecked his back.
"Now go sit down like a good boy and wait for your pancakes."
'Good boy.'
The words cut into Allen's chest in a way he didn't think still possible.
Here he was, worried sick over Oliver and how injured he still seemed, but he
was being brushed aside like a child!
He barely noticed when Oliver set the bowl down on the counter and grabbed up
his pill pot again. If he had, maybe he would have not done what he did next.
"Stop treating me like a child and just look at me!"
Allen's scream echoed in the empty kitchen for a split second. His hands had
thrown themselves out and gripped Oliver tightly by his upper arms, shaking him
slightly.
Startled as he was, Oliver grip on the open pill pot was loose, so it was no
surprise the pot flew from his hand and landed on the floor - spilling red-
tinged medication everywhere.
Oliver stared up at Allen in slight fear of the angry man, yet soon he found
his voice, as he always did.
"I'm treating you like a child," he started, in a harsh whisper. "Because
you're acting like one."
In a rough movement, Oliver ripped his arms from Allen's hold, feeling himself
begin to grow angry.
"You're being irrational. You're being childish!"
The Brit, shaking slightly, felt his eyes fill with sudden tears.
"Why won't you let me take care of you this one last time?!"
The yelling was heard from upstairs, waking Francois from his sleep.
'Oliver?'
He yawned as he slowly walked downstairs. The man felt better than yesterday,
but he was still a little dizzy.
"Get out!"
Francois nearly stumbled when Allen came limping out of the room much faster
than someone with a bullet lodged in his leg should have.
The sound of the fromt door slamming shook Francois enough to go into the
kitchen to hug Oliver.
Oliver only stopped shaking when Francois' familiar arms wrapped around him - a
familiar chest being there to bury his head into when he crumpled to the floor.
"I-I-It's not fair!" He cried, sobs bubbling up his chest already as he
scrabbled for a handhold.
"It's n-never fa-air!"
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     Mild blood ahead
Rain pattered down against the windowpanes, almost in time to Oliver's frantic
sweeping.
'They can't see! They can't!'
Glass piled in the dustpan as Oliver tried to brush it all together. The
nervous Brit had been carrying a vase of flowers to the table when he'd thought
he'd heard someone knocking on the door. Not thinking anything through, he'd
just dropped the glass base where he'd been standing and had rushed to the
door, yanking it open and running outside.
No Allen was there waiting for him to hug. It was merely his imagination, and
with wet hair he trudged back inside.
Francois grew increasingly worried throughout the day as he watched Oliver from
his spot on the couch.
‘Why did Allen have to run off like that?’
Oliver was unstable on a good day as it was.
He made sure to stay out of the British man’s way and handled the ailing Mat
upstairs alone. They were both doing better, but not at 100%.
---
Allen finally knocked on the door sometime after sunset.
He had been terrified to even approach the house for fear of getting yelled at
or kicked out again, but he wanted to at least try to apologize for what he
did.
Obviously, after sunset Oliver was in his pajamas, liking to keep to his mental
schedule. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to go to bed, not yet. Not even with
Francois waiting for him with open arms and a rare, loving smile. Francois
really was lovely.
Sitting by the half boarded-up window of Mat’s living room, Oliver took a slow
sip of his tea, letting the piping hot liquid slide down his throat, which
still ached from the torture session.
That was when he heard the knock. Though he didn’t react as violently as
before, just calmly standing up–with only a small wince–and placing his tea on
the coffee table before shuffling to the door.
His thin pajamas and fluffy bunny slippers didn’t provide much protection from
the rain, though he didn’t let it bother him as he leapt at the man hiding in
the shadows.
“Dad, I-!”
Oliver just hugged him tighter, mumbling, “I-I thought you’d never come back…”
Allen nearly melted into Oliver’s hold. It was so warm…or was it him? He had
been out in the rain the entire day with two serious injuries. It was very
likely he had caught something.
“Of course I would.” Allen whispered, voice hoarse from crying all day. He
shivered badly in Oliver’s arms until Francois rushed over with a thick towel.
“Thanks.”
Oliver was thankful for the towel, making his gratitude obvious by kissing
Francois’ cheek once the towel was securely wrapped around both him and Allen.
Francois flushed slightly at the affection and moved back enough to give them
some space.
The British man didn’t leave his ‘son’s’ side until they both needed to change
into dry, warm clothes for fear of catching a cold. Allen couldn’t find it in
himself to even think of protesting and allowed himself to be babied by his
father.
It was after this, when Francois had boiled Oliver a new cup of tea, that Mat
came downstairs, his only reaction being a raised eyebrow upon spotting Allen.
Allen’s red cheeks flushed even deeper and looked away. Mat just went to sit on
the floor by his Papa’s feet.
Oliver, curled up against Francois’ warm side, took a scalding sip of his tea
and sighed with a smile finally coming back to his weary features.
“I’m glad you came back, Allen.” He murmured, voice still hoarse from the past
two days’ events.
Allen shifted a bit, glad to have some feeling back in his hands. He had spent
the better part of the day curled up beneath a large oak tree in the part down
the street and was numb after an hour. It was honestly a miracle he was able to
walk home.
“I’ve missed this.” Allen mumbled quietly, eyes glazed over slightly.
Francois frowned at how…terrible Allen looked.
“We should take a look at your leg, Allen. I’m sure it could do with a change
of bandages.”
Allen didn’t even think too mention that he had forgotten to wrap it initially.
“You might need more than that.” He admitted quietly, hesitantly rolling up his
pant leg.
‘You’re ruining the peace!’
Allen knew it, but didn’t want to lose his leg either. It was leaking yellow
puss around the wound, still bleeding freely. The bullet had yet to be removed
either, resulting in a swell of the skin at the foreign body inside of it.
The moment Oliver looked at it, he almost spilt his tea, face creasing in
concern. Hurriedly placing down his tea, the Brit rushed to stand, grabbing
Allen's shoulders.
"Come on!" He urged, eyes worried. "Into the kitchen! We can't do anything
here!"
Oliver tugged Allen to his feet, trying to help him into the next room as
quickly as possible.
"Francois!" He called back, wanting the man with him. "You did medical
training, didn't you? Come and help me!"
Francois sighed and rolled his eyes, though climbed to his feet and trundled
after his lover with a grumbled, "That was for in the trenches, Oliver. Not in
the twentieth century."
Unsure why he had to go anywhere, Allen stumbled off behind Oliver to the
kitchen. The feeling was finally coming back to his legs, much to his
annoyance.
‘Seriously!? Right now?!’
He was pushed into a kitchen chair that creaked with his every move and made
his budding headache even worse. Francois reluctantly helped Oliver get the
first aid kit from the kitchen.
“Oliver, you’re’ better at this modern stuff than I!”
Oliver just waved his hands and mumbled, "Don't be such a dewdropper (lazy
person)."
When nervous or just very tired, Oliver tended to slip into old slang; most
commonly from the 1920’s. Though no one ever really complained so he never felt
the need to stop. Of course, sometimes people simply wouldn't understand what
he meant, so he'd have to break the slang flashback and explain.
"Get the bandages and the antiseptic. Oh, and the tweezer thingies and a wet
towel! Get a wiggle on (hurry up)!"
While ordering Francois about, Oliver busied himself with inspecting the wound,
frowning slightly throughout.
Allen’s hands were clenched at his sides, eyes closed tightly to regulate his
breathing.
“Just…get the bullet out.” He breathed out in a tense tone. Of course, he knew
that any one of them could handle it, but he felt that allowing Oliver to do it
made up for their argument before.
“Hush, dear.” Oliver’s fingers pressed carefully against the inflamed leg,
trying to see how bad it was.
---
Getting the bullet out turned into a fifteen minute process when it had been
discovered to be lodged inside the muscle. Allen had to be given a rag to bite
down on while his parents worked on his leg. Occasionally, Allen would see Mat
handing the men something or saying something to him in a soothing tone, but he
was honestly not paying any attention.
“Wrap it up tightly.” Francois gently reminded Oliver when the bullet was
finally wedged out of Allen’s leg and most of the puss drained away. It wasn’t
the worst injury he had seen, not by a long shot, but it had needed attention
to prevent the infection spreading.
Oliver’s quick fingers did as he was told and soon Allen was laid down to rest
on the couch.
“Get some rest, poppet.” Oliver softly whispered with a fond smile, kissing
Allen’s forehead as he had done so many times in the past.
“G’night.” Allen was out like a light.
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 7 *****
Waking up the next morning was hard for Allen. Part of him just wanted to stay
in bed and sleep away the day. He deserved it, right?
‘Yesterday…. What happened yesterday?’
No matter how hard he thought, his sleepy mind couldn’t think of why he
deserved the sleep he so desperately craved. Groaning in mild annoyance, Allen
blinked his eyes open and nearly screamed when his first sight was that of
Oliver.
“Oliver! Y’nearly gave me a heart attack!” Allen whined tiredly, sitting up and
rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Good morning to you too, dear! Up you go! Time to eat!”
Oliver’s smile was wide and cheery, his voice seemingly back to normal. In
fact, the British man had been drinking herbal tea nearly every hour since
waking up and it had done wonders for him. He would offer the same to Allen,
but the American was a bigger fan of coffee than any brand of tea Oliver could
offer.
Allen groaned, but allowed himself to be helped to his feet and limped into the
kitchen with Oliver hovering behind him like a mother hen. His leg still
throbbed, though most of the swelling had gone down.
The smell of freshly cooked eggs, bacon and tofu wafted through the kitchen as
Allen stepped inside.
“It would smell better in here if pigs weren’t being fried.” Allen half-teased
Mat at the stove, who rolled his eyes in return.
“You sure that’s not the smell of you walking into my kitchen?”
Oliver ushered Allen into one the chairs before either of the two men could
start an actual argument.
“Let’s see that legs of yours, hmm?”
Another chair was pulled up opposite Allen so his leg could rest on it while
Oliver looked over the injury. To keep his mind off of the pain, Allen turned
his attention back to Mat.
“Papa’s still asleep?”
Mat nodded, placing a plate of eggs and tofu before Allen on a place mat
already holding utensils and a mug of coffee. “Here. Eat up.”
No matter what the two North American nations called each other, they had
always considered themselves siblings. It was hard not to when their histories
were so tied together. Even when Oliver was locked away in an asylum or
Francois was out getting drunk, they had always had each other to rely on.
Half way through his eggs, Allen saw Oliver stand up again with a smile on his
face. “It looks like your body is finally healing itself up! We do need to
rewrap it, but it should be just fine in a few days.”
With that said, Oliver hummed as he went to prepare himself his third cup of
tea that morning.
Mat placed the three other plates of food, with bacon instead of tofu, down on
the table while Allen nearly inhaled the rest of his eggs. “What?” He mumbled
when he caught Mat’s amused look.
“Nothing.” Mat said innocently, turning to look out the window.
‘At least the rain stopped- Wait, what was that?’ The Canadian frowned and
started off towards the front door. “I’ll be back later.” He called out before
the sound of front door opening and closing met Allen’s ears.
“Weird…” Allen shrugged in disinterest, knowing his brother could protect
himself.
---
Mat had made sure to grab his hockey stick when he left the house. Around this
area, there were always poachers and hunters trying to kill off the animals.
Mat always made sure to take care of them. This time though, the figure he had
seen slipping through the woods looked less like a hunter and more like a
civilian. No matter who it was, they were trespassing through his forest.
Tracking footsteps was much too easy, especially when the person wasn’t trying
to hide themself very well.
‘Where are you….?’
The trees opened up into a clearing, but Mat wasn’t about to go charging in
like his brother’s idiotic counterpart. Instead, he hid behind some bushes near
the edge with his stick laid out before him. The distinct sound of an Italian
voice came through. He didn’t have to see to know the voice immediately.
‘D*mn! I though they left! Didn’t they get what they wanted?! I have to get
back to the house!’
***** Axis Arc: Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Nothing, other than the years of fighting and warfare they had already
experienced, could have prepared them for this fight.
It was absolute chaos. Loud, panicky, horrific chaos. Combined with the weapons
and half-insane nations carrying them, Oliver thought he was nearly going to
wet himself. Nearly.
Though after all, the boisterous Brit was one of those crazed nations, wielding
a knife he'd managed to snatch from the kitchen drawer just before he'd rushed
after his furious lover. Francois could really be so protective at times...
Ah! He really shouldn't let his guard down like that! Oliver jumped from his
thoughts when Luciano launched himself at him, a sickening grin twisting the
Italian’s face upon successfully knocking Oliver's still-battered body to the
ground. The Brit sucked in a sharp breath at the sticks and stones jabbing him,
while also attempting to keep from being stabbed by Luciano's own knife.
But Oliver had his own tricks up his sleeve.
In an instant, the smaller man had flipped their positions around and was
pinning Luciano to the cold ground, letting out a triumphant laugh that sounded
too hysterical for his own good.
‘Oliver!’
Francois wavered slightly in his own fight with Kuro, but was forced back to
reality when he threw up the thick branch he had snatched when they ran out to
the forest. His own usual weapon of choice was stashed upstairs at the current
moment.
‘I should have taken a second to grab it before we left the house!’
“Just give up already! You know you’re going to lose!” Francois snarled in
irritation. They always lost! It was starting to get tiring to handle them all
the time.
Of course, he was ignored by his enemy.
‘They are too stubborn!’
Mat was having his own problems at the other end of the clearing to Oliver.
He'd originally chased after the Axis with Francois, not realizing who was
accompanying the enemy at the time.
Gilen Beilschmidt.
Even saying his name made Mat's cheeks flush pink, yet chasing him and his
brother into the woods to punish them for what they did to Oliver? That was
new.
Of course, Gilen didn't do anything wrong. He wasn't even there - or so they
assumed. It was just his little brother. Yet annoyingly, the mute Prussian
wouldn't let Lutz get beaten up without joining the fight, so here Mat was,
forced to attack the crush he wouldn't admit.
He'd tried to reason with Gilen at first, and tell him to stop because 'let's
face it, I'm going to win', but Gilen was a stubborn, little sh*t who was damn
good with his sword - literally and metaphorically.
Though Mat wouldn't hurt him too much, more defensive than offensive, and had
only hit him once. That was probably due to his target being a fast f*cker.
With everyone else occupied, Allen was stuck fighting Lutz.
‘Man, before this guy started following Luciano around like a puppy, he used to
be cool! I mean, not exactly the best guy to hand around, but not bad for a
night on the town or a good duel in the backyard…’
With Francois and Oliver as ‘parents’, Mat and Allen were exposed to a large
variety of nations growing up. It wasn’t always on the best of terms given the
amount of enemies they had over the years, but it had always been a learning
experience for them either way.
“Allen!”
Allen didn’t even have a chance to turn around to see who had called his name
as the end of a sword, presumably Kuro’s own blade, suddenly pushed through the
front of his shirt.
Chapter End Notes
     Apologies for how short this is. My roleplay partner is out of the
     country and unable to assist me further with the fight scene.
***** The message *****
Hello, everyone! A short message from the writer (please read it all the way
through!):

I have been losing inspiration to continue turning my roleplay into a tangible
story as Instagram has made it impossible to look back on past comments past
eight weeks or so. I would not mind creating somewhat of a new universe based
off of what I know, but I want to know if there is still a want for this story
to continue!
Please leave me a comment on this ‘chapter’ expressing your opinion so I know
if I should continue.
 
Thank_you!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!