CountryHuman Oneshots

Russia x America x China

Got to love the heavy America-centric theme these one shots all have.

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The idea of a soulmate is oddly appealing for most people. Being bound to somebody and skipping through the tough questions of is this is truly the one you're meant to spend your life with isn't that hard when the choice is made for you.

Soulmates in this world worked a bit differently than most. Only a few were bound, and they would be given wings once they hit the ripe time of puberty. This might have been interpreted as much a simple mutation if it hadn't been for the connection and sharing of pain the winged felt for each other and the fact there were only ever two at a time.

Except for now. America at a young age had heard the tales of the winged soulmates. Personally scoffing at the idea of being bound to somebody. Then he was somebody, and his mates were China and Russia. China. And. Russia. There were three winged, and two of them had a heavy communist background.

They didn't know about him. He'd severed his family relations when he was too young to have grown his wings, and he kept them hidden since.

His freedom would not be taken because of some stupid extra limbs.

He was fine with seeing them together. His heart didn't ache. He didn't feel their connection send ghostly fingers brushing against his skin at night and envy the fact that he wasn't with them. Curled in a tangled mess of feathers and legs with butterfly kisses peppered on his face and chest. He was fine with being alone. He was fine with cramping his wings into a tight constricting assortment of fabric to keep them hidden.

He wouldn't ever try and rip out the cursed limbs when the cramps become too much, when the two others in the connection would get so close and comfortable and he felt nothing but a throbbing want to join them. He'd never sob in anguish as he felt his heart swell and knew they were sharing moments he could never be a part of.

He was fine with them being without him. He didn't want to be with them. He hated them, but it still felt like a stab in the gut when he realized they hated him to.

It really shouldn't have been surprising. It wasn't really, but it still hurt. He wonders if they felt it through the connection. The spark of betrayal that burst into his abdomen and set his insides aflame when they looked at him with such raw distrust and hate nearly knocked him over. China had shifted in discomfort so he guessed they might have felt the strong wave of emotion.

The fact that they might've was dangerous. At this point he was pretty sure they knew they had a third. Whenever panic seized his chest and his whole body started to shake from an oncoming panic attack phantom arms would squeeze him tightly. He could hear muffled murmurs of words as the two learned to hone their control over the connection.

That too was scary. The fact that some day they may zero him out with enough patience and effort. Figure out who he was and toss him away once they realise what sorry excuse of a countryhuman they'd been stuck with.

He did everything to block them out. Everything. He wouldn't let them find him. He didn't need them, and they didn't need him. He tried to do everything to become detached.

There were so many stories of the winged who were revered and loved that America had easily found those that ended in twisted horrid ways leaving the soulmates forever severed. He clawed and dug at every detail he could squeeze from the old stories that were slowly twisted and warped with age.

Years of digging and rereading thousands of words finally left him with a dim light bulb of an idea. He's figured something out, and he hopes to god that it will work.

He refuses to be bound and rejected by them. He will get out of this. One way or another.