Two Worlds (Hetalia X Reader)

19. The Traitor

"She's awake!" A joyful British accent cries.  "Oh goody!  We're so close!"

"Arrête de crier avant que je t'étrangle." An angry monotone voice answers. 

"Now now François." The British voice scolds.  You open you eyes.  "We musn't frighten our dear (Y/n)."

You are in your kitchen, tied to a chair.  Five men stand around leisurely.  Five including Ethan.  Your eyes focus on him.

"Traitor!" You scream so loud a couple of the other men jump slightly.  "I thought you were my friend!" Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks. 

Ethan looks at you with a pained expression.  "I am.  And as your friend, I am just asking you to do on little favour for me."

"Favour?  Favour!" You let out a short, throaty laugh.  "If I remember correctly, I've already done you a favour!  Didn't you 'borrow' my magic or something?"

Ethan's face goes blank.  "Only so I could get them here." He gestures the the other men.  "But I returned it.  That's why you're conscious right now."

"Alright, how about we talk about betrayal later." The British man cuts in.  You turn your eyes to him.  He smiles at you. 

"Y-you-" You stutter.

"Look like dear old Arthur?" The man approaches you and twirls a strand of your hair around his finger.  "Why yes.  I do, don't I?  And he looks like Francis," He gestures to a dirty looking man who did in fact look a lot like Francis.  "And those two look like Alfred and sweet little Matthew."

You look to the two other men.  One was tan with russet hair and had several piercings all over his face while the other was a scruffy blond.  His slick hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and dark sun glasses rested on the bridge of his nose even though you were inside. 

"What do you want from me?" You growl defiantly.

"I think we should get on a first
-name basis.  What do you say?" The other Arthur leans in close to your face.  "I'm Oliver." He grins, a strand of strawberry blond hair falling in front of his eyes.

"You already know who I am." You sneer.

"We do." Oliver grins.  "Boys?  Introduce yourselves." He pushes himself away from your chair and turns to the other men in the room.

The angry-looking version of Francis calls himself François and the scruffy blond introduces himself as Mathieu in a raspy voice.

The russet man flashes his teeth and saunters over to you.  He leans his hands on the arms of the chair and moves his face in closer to yours.  "Hey doll.  I'm Allen." His breath tickles your nose.  "I'll be the one leading this... interrogation.  Now don't make me hurt you; it won't be pretty."

There's a moment of silence.  "Likewise." You whisper before bringing your unbound leg up between his legs as hard as you possibly could. 

Ethan and Mathieu scrambled over to tie your legs down and Oliver gets on his knees beside the crippled Allen.  Allen glares up at you.  "Wrong move, dollface." He hisses.  He hoists himslef to his feet with Oliver's help.  By the time you notice his fist swinging towards your face, it's too late.