Anarchy in the US {PruEng / PrUK}

Chapter 2

A/N:

This is where I'm going to refer you to the A/B/O writing I just released. It explains the rules of this universe for A/B/O, soulmates, relationships, etc etc. It would be very useful to go and read that, actually, so that I don't have to lowkey explain literally every single thing in notes or worse: the fic itself. The fic you need to read is entitled The Universe of Anarchy in the US, and I literally just published it, so you should be able to find it pretty easily.

But onward.

I am literally the least fucking consistent writer. Sometimes I just forget how to write and I feel like this is one of those chapters. You may find that my writing changes 2 or 3 times in here. I seriously just want to do it over but I also can't be bothered, to be honest... So... I feel like an apology is in order. I did my best to fix what i could where I could but I honestly just hate how I wrote this chapter. I have no idea why but it was excrutiating to write.

So I put an OC in this chapter. I bet you can't guess what Nation/Duchy/Principality or whatever he represents! Try though!!! Comment and tell me who you think he is, and how, if at all, he relates to the characters in the fic!

Arthur has characteristics of a cymric cat, and Alfred has those of an American wirehair. Antonio is is Burgos pointer, and Chiara (fem Lovino) is a ragdoll cat.

Songs for writing the chapter included but were not limited to: Black Honey by Thrice; Kill Everybody by Skrillex; Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites by Skrillex; Icarus by Ivan Torrent (ft. Julie Elven)

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Gilbert looked at Ludwig in the backseat, the boy shivering with cold. The heater didn't work, and all either of them had were used winter coats that had seen better days. Gilbert's coat was good enough for him, and that aside, he could handle the cold. He'd grown accustomed to early morning training in the marines, when frost covered the grounds and the air relentlessly bit at his skin until he worked up a sweat. But he just knew Ludwig's coat wasn't keeping him warm enough. He wished the little boy had a hat, scarf and gloves to go with it. Perhaps especially gloves, if he had to pick just one thing. He'd have to ask Elizaveta to go somewhere and try to get some cheap --

Gilbert swirved suddenly, causing a squeak from Ludwig.

"Hey, hey it's okay." The albino was immediately sending out calming pheromones, scents that blanketed the vehicle in safety and security, before Ludwig even had a chance to become more than startled.

There was a sharp, terrible pain on his back, right over his left kidney. He ground his teeth together, panic lancing through him but trying his damnest not to release any distress signals in the car. He didn't understand what was wrong, and more than panicking about it he hoped to whatever god listening that he wouldn't have to be hospitalized. He was raising a kid, didn't have a mate, and neither of his jobs gave him good benefits. His job as a mechanic was low pay and grueling work, and though he got insurance from it, it was bare minimum. It wouldn't be good enough. Of course he didn't get any insurance from bar tending part time, so that was no help. He just knew he sure as fuck couldn't trust his parents or Roderich to raise this little pup in his absence.

He pressed forward. The pain wasn't unbearable by any stretch, though it hurt like a bitch. He took a slow, deep breath, attempting to ground and focus himself in the moment, only to have the weariness and exhaustion from his day to day life crash down on him all at once at the exhale. The streetlights on the highway blossomed into the black of night like old, faded yellow bruises. It felt like forever was contained within each stark black strip of asphalt. Gilbert didn't know it was possible to be so weary, so tired, so incredibly done with everything. He would have turned around and just gone back home, arguments be damned... but for the way it felt as though he was being tugged forward. Right alongside the dread and hopelessness he was struggling to push aside, was a feeling of anticipation, as well as this small nameless something that gave him the strength to go on. Something was pulling him as if on a string from within his very soul; something was telling him to keep striving forward. The feeling became stronger and increasingly physical, to the point where Ludwig snuffled quietly in the back seat, and Gilbert felt inquisitive eyes fall sleepily on the back of his head.