I don't own Hetalia.

Warning: some swearing, Oliver being Oliver, and...Maple...Cupcakes! :D

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED, FOLLOWED, FAVOURITED! EARLY UPDATE FOR All! :D


When Madeline woke up, she noticed several things.

But, the most important, was that she was no longer in a cage.

Oh no, instead she was in what looked to be a kitchen (a rather nice, expensive one at that), tied to a chair. And you would never guess who was standing in front of Madeline, staring at her all high and mighty.

Mr. Bastard himself.

The man was actually quite short, but he still had a good inch or two above Madeline nonetheless. His cerulean eyes twinkled wickedly in the light, freckles upon freckles adorning his button nose. And his smile; Madeline thought it was the fakist thing she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Had a good sleep, luv?"

Madeline bit her chapped lower lip with annoyance; the Brit was clearly mocking her.

But, before she had a chance to reply, the man strolled over to the other side of the kitchen, taking a pair of mitts out from a cupboard. "You know, I've been thinking about some things. Like how impolite I was to you the other day. Silly me, I really ought to introduce myself to you."

He bowed slowly. "I'm Oliver Kirkland. Pleasure to meet you."

Madeline would've given him the bird if her hands were tied so tightly to the wooden chair. "Ha, sure," she replied dryly. She looked down at her bonds and back at him. "What do you want again?"

"Oh, nothing really," he answered, conversationally pulling on a pair of pink polka dot oven mitts. "I just thought that I should be a good host and make you some breakfast. You look famished, Maddiekins."

"Okay first of all, don't ever call me that again, please. And second of all, I thought you clearly said yesterday that you weren't going to feed me anymore," she said, staring accusingly at him.

Oliver raised a thick eyebrow. "And you believed me?"

Madeline gave him a confused look. "Uh, yeah."

"Well, I changed my mind," he announced, turning on his heel, moving towards the oven.

All Madeline could do was watch Oliver with confusion as he gingerly took out a metal tray of English muffins from the oven.

He then expertly sliced them in half, placing the muffins on a delicate-looking plate. And with a twirl, he put the plate down on the already set table, pulling out a chair for him to sit on.

Oliver smiled at her. "Which do you prefer, jam or butter?" he asked, holding the two up for the younger girl to see.

Madeline shrugged.

"Jam it is them!" he said happily, spreading it over the English muffin with a knife.

Madeline stared at said 'jam'. Since when was jam green?!

Her thoughts were interrupted when Oliver put a plate infront of Madeline. On it were slices of tomatoes, an English muffin smeared with that strange jam, and what looked to be sausages.

"Here you are, poppet," he beamed.

The girl didn't respond.

Personally, she didn't even want to touch the stuff; even though it looked delicious, there was a certain something about the food that disgusted her. She just wasn't sure what it was yet.

Oliver looked at her expectantly, nodding at her breakfast.

Madeline stared at him; then at the food. "Um, I appreciate this and all, but how can I eat it if my hands are tied to a chair?" she said, trying to avoid eating the suspicious food.

Oliver, now silent, stood up and walked over to her. He then swiftly picked up a piece of the muffin. "It's simple; I'll just feed it to you," he answered, grinning devilishly at her.

Madeline opened her mouth to protest, but Oliver, quick as a flash, shoved the English muffin inside.

Madeline, furious, tried to spit it out, but Oliver got a firm hold of her jaw and shut her mouth for her, forcing the girl to swallow.

Madeline coughed loudly, choking on crumbs.

The muffin was sickly sweet, while the jam tasted absolutely revolting. Madeline fought the sudden urge to vomit.

"Would you like some tea to wash it down?" he asked, his eyes twitching with excitement.

Madeline recognized the crazed look from before and shook her head no; Oliver simply ignored her.

He picked up a china teapot from the counter and generously poured it into a teacup.

Madeline peered into the cup, steam going into her face. She jerked back however, when she saw thick, dark crimson liquid splashing inside, boiling hot.

It looked just like blood.

Oliver grabbed the cup eagerly, bringing it to Madeline's lips, which where now pressed into a firm line.

She didn't want to take any chances.

But just as a red droplet fell onto her skin, burning her slightly, a loud voice interrupted Oliver from pouring the thing all over her.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"


And that is all, my friends!

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see ya next chapter!