hetalia rusia

S/O Reacting to 2P Allies in a murder



You were walking home from the store, two brown bags in both arms. Tonight you were gonna cook something you weren’t used to cooking: an all vegan meal. You told Allen you’d learn how to cook vegan meals, and you even agreed to eat them with him, dispite him not caring that you eat meat. You didn’t think it was fair to eat something like that in front of him, so you settled on dinner for two being the times you would eat what he would.
As you walked up the sidewalk to your home, you noticed the back gate to the back yard opened. It was never opened like that. You two always closed it since your pets would get lost in the massive yard (You always found them, of course, but this saved the trouble). First things first, you needed to set the groceries inside. Since Allen was home, the door was unlocked, which allowed easy access in to settle the bags upon the counter.

“No, man, please! Put the bat down!”

A muffled voice caught your attention. Bat?

“I saw what ya did, and I’m not just letting ya get away with it!” That Boston accent. Allen!

Anxiously, you ran outside, past the open gate, and were met with an awful sight.

A sickening crack filled the air as the bat came down to the man’s face. Allen’s face was immediately splattered in blood as he lifted it again and swung down once more. This went on for what seemed like hours until you finally obtained the will to run after him and wrap your arms over his, keeping his arms and bat down. You didn’t say anything but your shaky breathing and trembling arms were enough for him.

“He…he killed a pup…” Allen finally muttered once his senses returned. “A-An innocent pup…”

“A-Allen…just clean up…Clean this up…meet me inside…We’ll clean you up too.”


The day was snowy and cold as you sipped some warm coffee with a little maple in it, something you had not thought would be good, but Andrew pretty much has you hooked on it now. You were waiting for him to return from chopping fire wood. You wanted to help but he told you to stay inside to keep warm, so you decided to watch the snow fall as you waited for your partner to return.

While waiting, you noticed a black figure rushing along the far end of trees. Naturally you figured it was a bear, and knowing how they are, you grew tense, but didn’t think much of it. However, a hint of red caught your eye, the familiar red of a flannel shirt you knew well. Watching closely, you saw the two move closer, their bodies nearing the house. The black figure, who you now saw was another man, fell back into the snow as Andrew drew closer to him. You could hear Andrew say something, but of course it was muffled from the glass window. Your blood ran cold when he reached for his hockey stick behind him. He gently whacked his hand with it, like one did with a baseball bat to test it. You could tell the man was begging for his life, his hands up to defend himself. Andrew must have said something to lower his guard, but once he did, he threw the stick down, a sickening crack shaking your core. You wanted to look away so bad, but you just couldn’t. Andrew struck again, and again, and again, the man’s body twitching and spraying blood with every hit. Kuma had come by, firewood tied onto his back to stay by his master. Stepping back, Andrew pointed to the man. Kuma’s actions could only tell you Andrew ordered him to finish the job, or rather make it look like a bear attack rather than a murder. Your face was probably as pale as the snow as you saw the two commit this deed.

Once finished, the two left him, and entered the cabin home as if nothing happened, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at him. Shaking off the bloody snow, Andrew simply said, “He was stalking the house for days on end. He told me, so I did was seemed necessary.” He threw his boots down as you finally managed to look at him. At the same time, his hand gently rested on your head. “You’re safe. It was a bear accident.”


“Oh poppet! I’ve made a lovely batch of cupcakes! Won’t you please try one?” Oliver practically threw a tray of pastel colored cupcakes into your face, his face eager for your response. Taking one of the one’s with more frosting, you bit into it, surprised by a spill of red. Licking your lips, you asked, “Cherry filling?”

“That one is!” Oliver replied cheerfully. “This one’s strawberry, this one is lemon! It works since I used a lemon cake recipe for some. But do tell how it tastes!”

Another bite. “Amazing as always, Ollie! I love the filling. I take it it’s something new?”

“Mhm! And I do say I think the cupcakes stayed together quite well!”

After a few more bites, you reached for another. However, Oliver gently tapped your hand. “Ah ah ah. You’ll spoil your appitite!”

“Then what are we supposed to do with the rest?” you replied, pouting since you couldn’t taste another one of his wondrous cupcakes.

“These are just trial and error cupcakes. Maybe our neighbors will like some!”

Before you could protest or say anything, Oliver was already out the door. You hurried to slip your shoes on before following.

There weren’t many, so giving them to the neighbors didn’t take too long. You guys reached the last neighbor, who was the rudest one of the bunch. A dirty, unkempt male who would cat call you whenever he saw you leave for work. It seemed odd for Oliver to want to give this man a cupcake, but he was a sweetie, and thought everyone deserved one when he made them. When the man opened the door, the disgusting smell of alcohol immediately hit. He was day drinking.

“Wha’ the hell ya'wan?” he slurred.

Oliver, seeming tense, cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Oliver and I was wondering if–”

“Hey, yer that one I see almos’ every mornin’.” The man interrupted. “Ya look good in that snazzy business outfit.”

Oliver bit his tongue before continuing. “I was wondering if you’d like a cupcake.”

“Why'zit pink ‘n bright?”

“The frosting,” you replied. “It’s just how it is.”

The man was never known to turn down free food, so he grabbed it and immediately slammed the door shut. Wanting to leave, you turned to go down the stairs but Oliver stopped you.


Wait? Wait for what?

There was silence before you noted the sound of choking. Or was it forced breathing? Was the man okay?

“Oliver what’s happening?!”

“Keep listening…”

The sound went on for awhile before two thuds ending the noise. Oliver, taking a handkerchief to the door knob, opening the dull colored door. The man was lying on the ground, a pool of blood oozing from his head. The first thud must have been his head hitting something…

“O-Oliver shut the door…Shut the door!!” You grabbed his arm, forcing him back to shut the door. You stayed like that for a moment, Oliver smiling with accomplishment.

“That takes care of him…~” he said eerily.

“Wh-What did you do…?” you stammered, unwilling to look at him.

“I just took out the trash. He was dirty.”

You finally meet his gaze, swearing up and down his blue eyes swirled pink.

“He can’t bother you anymore, poppet.”


The two of you were out at a nice restaurant. You had finally convinced him to take you out for a nice meal, seeing as how you two hadn’t had a night out in awhile, but unfortunately had to sit outside due to Francois’ near constant smoking. Although, you didn’t mind. The stars were out, the night was crisp and clear, warm but not too warm. Just a nice comfortable evening.

“Francois, what are you gonna get?” you asked, roaming over your own menu.

“I, uh, think a glass of wine and maybe some pasta. Luciano would be so proud.” The last part left his mouth in such a sarcastic yet amusing tone. The two weren’t the best of friends, but each had to admit the other’s food was somewhat admirable.

“I might get a soda and…a steak.” Honestly, you couldn’t shake your old American habits and went with a nostalgic meal.
After the food arrived, you two began eating. It wasn’t long before a beggar came up to the two of you, asking for some food to spare.

“O-Oh I…” You looked at your plate, the man was staring at it with wide eyes and an almost drooling mouth, but suddenly, Francois pushed his plate over to the man.

“Here,” he said dully.

The man thanked him many times over, taking the plate and running off. Francois called a waiter over and asked for a to-go box for your meal.

“W-Wait, already?” you asked, confused. “But I barely-”

“We need to go,” he interjected, his voice quick yet demanding. Once the box was packed up, the two of you hurried out, but not before passing the beggar in the alley who seemed to be…wait…was he…choking?

“Francois…?” you asked. “I-Isn’t that the man who–”

He grabbed your arm and kept you walking, only letting you get one final glance of the man before he fell to the ground, almost reaching out for you, as if clawing for a thread of hope.


“Not our problem now…” he muttered. Did he…? How?

“Wh-What did you do?!”

“Quick poison trick Oliver taught me. That’s all you need to know.”

You were in stunned silence the rest of the walk home, Francois’ hand never letting you go.


The Russian air during winter was nothing to enjoy. The blistering winds tinged your cheeks into a light pink, the gales feeling like needles on your face. Viktor was supposed to meet you at the store a half hour ago and still hasn’t shown up, not to mention the sun was setting, leaving you to think he might have ditched you. With that in mind, you decided to walk back home, only to spot a large man in a black trench coat. The red scarf was Viktor’s, no doubt about it. However, it was who he was talking to that bothered you. You knew his face well, the face of the man known for drug trading in Russia. Why on earth was he talking to Viktor? Curiosity got the better of you and you stepped closer to hear the sound of garbled Russian from the man as you crouched beside a wooden box. Your Russian wasn’t the best, so it was hard to figure out what he was saying. The next thing you heard wasn’t Russian, but a gargled sound just after a pained gasp. You could tell the man seemed to have grown an inch or so, but blood dripping onto the snow changed your mind. Due to Viktor blocking the view, you could only assume the man was stabbed, but with what? Viktor seemed to lean towards the man, muttering something before the sound of metal on concrete finished the conversation. The man was thrown to the side, and you were able to confirm the man was stabbed with Viktor’s pipe, which seemed hard to imagine, but the end had been sharpened to a point, making it possible. Blood dripped onto the snow, turning it pink, leaving you queasy.

“You know…eavesdropping isn’t nice,” Viktor said, looking towards your direction. Did you dare come out? Or stay hidden?
Viktor’s presence decided for you as he stepped into view, still holding his bloodied pipe. It felt like the energy around him darkened, and your face paled despite your pink cheeks.

“Come on, we must go.”

“P-Please put the pipe away…” your voice squeaked as you stood.
Not wanting to scare you any further, Viktor obeyed, putting no longer dripping pipe in his coat. The two of you left, your mind still on the man, a man you shouldn’t feel any sympathy for, yet a sight you can’t forget.


“Mm…Xiao? Are you not coming to bed?”

Xiao had carried you to bed, pulling the blankets over you before stepping away.

“拒绝(Jùjué),” he responded. “At least, not right now. I have something to attend to. Country things. I’m sorry.”

You smiled groggily. “Just come home safe okay? And I’ll be here to cuddle you.”

Xiao shared a small smile with you before kissing your forehead, which was almost an immediate invite for sleep.

What seemed like hours later, you heard a loud clatter downstairs. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and looked at the clock. It literally WAS hours later. What was Xiao doing? You got up from your bed and carefully made your way towards the stairs. As you reached the first top stair, you heard two men yelling in Chinese, a language you could never grasp during your stay with Xiao. However you knew his voice well, and could tell he was angry. Another loud clatter. You were waking up more and more, fear being the biggest thing to wake you up. You nervously took the first step, the voices growing louder in volume rather than your distance to them. Was it even a good idea to go down…?

Just a few more steps before you got view of two men arguing, one being Xiao, the other you couldn’t tell, but had to be someone from the meeting earlier. What you suddenly realized was that Xiao was holding a small caliber gun, his finger right on the trigger.

Before you could yell at him to stop, it was pulled, a loud bang filling the air. The noise made you jump and fumble down the last few steps, leaving you clutching to the railing. The man had fallen near perfectly onto one of your guys’ chairs, blood dripping from the hole left in his head from the shot. Blood even spattered the wall, slipping down in a grotesque way, leaving your stomach in knots.

“X-Xiao…” you breathed. “Wh-What…”

Xiao whirled around, not realizing you were behind him.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed. “You were supposed to be in bed!”

Supposed to be…? “I-It was so loud and…I-I couldn’t sleep, I-I thought-”

Xiao’s demeanor seemed to calm down, and he stepped over to you, holding you close to his chest. “Go back to bed, 宝贝 (Bǎobèi). Please.”
His voice was low, meaning he meant what he was saying. You knew better than to fight him when he spoke like this and with a deep breath, you shakily stepped away from him, making your path back to the bed, where you didn’t catch a wink of sleep.