This is a reader insert story, meaning that YOU are the main character. The glossary of insert terms are below. This story contains violence, child abuse and cursing. Enjoy!

Glossary

(f/c) favorite color

(e/c) eye color

(y/n) your name

(h/l) hair length

(h/c) hair color

The quiet of the woods is shattered as you ran as fast as your little seven your old legs could carry you. Your breaths come in painful gasps as the freezing air stabbed your lungs like a thousand needles. You were running from the man you had once called 'Daddy'. Your father had always been cruel and uncaring toward you and your mother, but ever since your mother had passed away and he had started drinking, he had become worse. He would call you horrible names, threaten you and throw things at you when he was angry. Then as things to tend to do, your situation became worse.

He escalated his abuse and became very possessive. He would beat you and kick you whenever he was angry and he was often angry. Then one day when he was extremely intoxicated, he had taken his heavy leather belt with the large metal buckle and beaten you for what seemed like hours, leaving you a bloody quivering mess. No, he didn't deserve to be called 'Daddy' now.

You currently have deep painful bruises and half healed woulds everywhere on your body. You were too scared to try and get help from anyone so you hid the damage as best you could. Who knew what your father would do to you if someone found out what was going on. Anyway, if your own father couldn't love you, why would anyone else? Last night had been your breaking point however. After finding you looking at a picture of your Mommy, your father had flown into a rage and had beaten you until you couldn't move. He then took your picture and tore it up, scattering the pieces over your frail body.

The next day, you decided that you would run far far away. You had packed you little (f/c) backpack and waited for your father to start drinking. You knew from experience that he would eventually drink until he passed out on the couch for the night. When you heard his drunken snores, you had tried to open the front door, which squealed loudly in protest. Your father shot up from the couch, his blood shot eyes meeting your terrified (e/c) ones. It took him a few seconds to realize what you were trying to do, but by then you had already bolted outside. You hurtled as fast as you could toward the woods behind your house, your father's murderous bellows of rage giving extra speed to your flight.

"(Y/N)! You FUCKING BITCH! Get back here!", he yelled, running after you.

You don't need to turn around to see how far away your father is; you can hear him crashing through the undergrowth right behind you. Even though your father is drunk off his ass, he can still run very fast. Hiccuping in fright, you zigzag through the snow covered trees, hoping, praying to somehow lose the horrible creature chasing you. It wasn't working. The cold starts to sap your strength. The pain from your wounds and your sheer exhaustion start to take its toll as you force your body to keep running. You know what will happen if your father catches you.

"(y/n), you know you are only making things worse for yourself. If you think I hurt you before, just imagine what I'm going to do to you now", your father yells from behind you.

Although your father's words send a stab of fear through your little body, you can feel yourself start to slow down despite your best efforts. Your head feels like it is spinning and it has become almost too painful to breath. The forest begins to thin out and you see a massive gray stone mansion rise in the distance. The sight fills you with fear but as you look back at rage filled man behind you, you can't imagine anything in that house that could be more dangerous than your father. Panting and stumbling, you use the last of your strength to squeeze between the wrought iron fence that surrounds the mansion and sprint toward the massive front doors before your father can grab you.

"Don't you dare, you worthless piece of shit, don't you dare go over there", growls your father as he tries to open the gate of the fence.

You stagger to the gigantic doors and start banging on them, screaming at the top of your lungs.

"Help! Please, someone help me! Help me!", you plead desperately, your little voice breaking from the terror coursing through your body.

A hand of iron grabs you from behind by your neck, squeezing cruelly, cutting off both you pleas and your breath. You father chuckles darkly and jerks you off the porch, dragging you back toward the fence. You struggle with all the strength left in your tiny body, like a wild animal caught in a trap, trying to break his grip. He hisses at you and shakes you like a terrier with a rat. Your struggles stop as your now dull (e/c) eyes overflow with tears that run down your bruised face. You have lost your desperate gamble. You dully wonder if you will survive what your father is going to do to you and then decide that you no longer have the will to care.

"You disobeyed me (y/n). You left the house without permission. You ran from me and did not obey me when I told you to come back. What would be an appropriate punishment for such a bad, worthless child? Let's see... First you're sleeping in the shed tonight after I whip the living-"

Your father's cruel voice cuts off as the gigantic doors to the mansion open, casting a golden light on the snow and revealing an extremely tall man in a tan military great coat and a cream scarf wrapped around his neck. The man has a sweet child-like smile on his face, short beige hair, a large nose and the most unique violet eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes travel from your bruised, terror filled face to your father's furious one. His gaze finally settles on your father's hand, still grasping your neck in a painful grip. Dark bruises were starting to bloom under those punishing fingers.

"Is everything okay out here?", the tall man asked in a strong Russian accent. "Somebody knocked on my door and I heard screaming."

You stare at the large man, scarcely believing your eyes. It was like seeing an angel sent by God on your behalf. You shakily look up at the man's child-like face with pleading eyes. You start to open your mouth but a painful tightening of those fingers stop you. Your eyes go dead once again. There will be no miracle for you tonight.

"Yes, thank you. We are fine, right (y/n)?" your father answers sweetly, smiling, putting on the show that he used everyday. "My daughter was just playing around. You know how kids are. Sorry to bother you."

The Russian's violet eyes fall upon you, waiting for an answer. You don't notice, your emotionless gaze fixed upon the cold snowy ground. The Russian's gaze hardened, however the sweet smile stayed on his face.

"It appears the young lady isn't alright with you grabbing her by the neck like that. I think that you should let her go."

Your father doesn't release you, instead he tightens his grip once again. You let out a gasp of pain as he presses on both the newly formed bruises and the ones he had given you the night before. You look back up at the Russian, defeated. The man's violet eyes became dark, very dark and it looked to you as if a dark aura was beginning to form around him. He starts to walk over to you and your father and you notice that he was suddenly holding something in his hands. It looked like a metal pipe of some sort with rusty colored splotches running up and down its metal length.

"Where had that come from?", you wonder dully.

"I'll say it one more time, let her go now."

The Russian man's voice had changed as well. It was now much darker and sinister and... menacing. You can't help but flinch.

The pleasant mask melts from your father's face as if it had never existed.

"This is none of your business. She is mine and I will do whatever I want to her.", your father snarled at the much larger man.

The Russian's smile has left his face and the aura around him gets darker as he continued to walk toward you and your father. Your father's face pales at the other man's approach and he starts to edge backwards, dragging you with him. He jerks you in front of him, using you as a shield. He then takes his other hand and violently grabs you by your (h/l) (h/c) hair.

"Stop! If you take another step, I'll fucking kill her. I swear I will!", your father snarls, his mask of humanity now completely gone.

Your face goes pale as the snow on the ground and your eyes go wide. He was finally going to do it, he was finally going to kill you. You begin to tremble so violently that you can barely keep on your feet. You scream as your head is savagely pulled backwards and the pressure on your throat increases. However, the Russian man keeps walking toward you, tapping the pipe against his hand.

Suddenly you feel yourself being picked up and you go flying, the edges of your (f/c) jacket flapping in the icy cold wind. Your flight is short lived as you crash onto the hard frozen ground, knocking the breath from your body. You feel and hear a sickening snap in your leg and your left side screams in pain. You are unable to focus your eyes and you are can't seem to form coherent thoughts.

You can't seem to see what was going on, but you can hear your father and the Russian man yelling which then changes to loud blows and screams. You are so injured that all you can do is roll your head weakly and let the cold snow numb your body. The pain grows too much and you feel your consciousness start to slip away. The last thing you remember is seeing the tall Russian man towering over you, then all goes dark.

Your first conscious thoughts are "It's warm and soft."

Warm and soft? You couldn't remember the last time you had felt those things and you start to panic. You try to open your eyelids, but in your exhaustion, you just can't seem to manage it. Your body starts to regain feeling and you can tell you are lying on and being covered by things that are wonderfully warm and soft and plush. You feel light silky fabric on your skin; someone must have gotten you out of your winter clothes. The negative side to regaining your senses was the return of the pain. Oh yes, you could feel the pain. Your whole side was aching and it hurt when you breathed. It was as if little knives were stabbing you deep within your body. Your neck was so sore and swollen that you could barely move your head and swallowing hurt like hell. Your leg also hurt terribly and was somehow immobilized.

You are jolted from your thoughts as you become aware of voices talking somewhere close by. You begin to shiver in fear, your painful breaths coming faster and faster, your heart pounding frantically in your chest. Voices meant people and people meant pain.

"...and the doctor is sure that she'll recover?"

It was the Russian man's voice from that night! It sounded heavy with concern.

"Brother, the doctor told you that she has a few broken bones and a badly bruised throat and that is just the damage from that horrible night. She'll most likely have to stay in bed for a few weeks before she is fully recovered.",

This time it was a soft woman's voice. Your breath catches in your throat. That voice sounds so much like your mother's. Were you in Heaven?

"Have you found the child's mother? Does she know what her husband has been doing to her child?" the Russian man asked in an angry tone.

"Estonia went to the police station to help them find more information on the girl. Her mother died five years ago in an accident, so (y/n) has had to live with that drunken bastard of a father by herself. Her medical record is massive. It's inexcusable that no one bothered to find out what was going on with that little girl."

The women was angry now too. You start to shiver.

"Poor thing... How could anyone treat their own child in such a way? What should we do with her then?",the man's voice now filled with sadness. Sadness for... her?

"The authorities have checked with her extended family. None are willing to take her in. I think we should keep her and take care of her from now on.", the women with the voice so like your mother's said firmly.

What?

You hear the man make a sound of agreement and then say, "Ukraine, I forgot to thank you for helping me with her."

"That is not a problem little brother. How could I not? Nobody should treat a child like that!"

The pain in your leg flared up and you let out a loud moan and roll your head in pain. You hear the voices stop their conversation and a door open. Two sets of footsteps walk toward you and stop right next to your bed. Your trembling increases and you try to curl up into the fetal position to protect yourself. You feel a light touch on your shoulder and you freeze.

"(y/n), can you hear me? My name is Russia but you can call me Ivan if you would like. Can you please say something to let us know that you can hear us?"

You are afraid to show that you are awake but you are even more afraid to disobey that voice. You shift slightly and pain shoots through your rib cage. You are unable to hold back a cry. You feel fingers soothingly run through your hair. It had been a long time since you had felt a gentle touch and you relax slightly.

"It's alright little one. My name is Ukraine although I would love it if you would call me Katyusha. Now can you please try and open your eyes for us?", the women now known as Katysha asked gently.

It was a struggle for you. It felt as if your eyelids had been sewn shut. However, after a few attempts, you are able to open your (e/c) eyes. Everything was blurry and there were two purple blotches in front of you which slowly turned into the concerned Russian's purple eyes. He was dressed in much the same way he had been when you had first seen him. Your eyes widen and then you painfully turn your head to the women who was the one running her fingers through your hair. She had short blonde hair and teal eyes. Her hair was back from her face by a white headband and she was wearing a beautifully embroidered royal blue dress.

"It's about time you woke up, sleepy head.", she smiled.

"What?", you asked, still in a light daze.

Katyusha suddenly perked up as if she had just suddenly remembered something.

"Oh! You must be starving! You haven't eaten in days. I will go prepare something nice for lunch!", the kind women said.

With a smile, she turned and quickly strode out of the room. You nervously took in the room where you were being cared for. It was a large room that had a feeling of age to it. The walls were a deep burgundy with golden accents and there was a window with a seat on the left wall. There was a large bookshelf, overflowing with books, an ornate wooden desk, a dark blue circular area rug on the wooden floor and a few paintings and tapestries on the walls. The bed you were in was very large and soft and piled with quilts and pillows. The wood was stained a deep cherry color and it had four large fancy wooden posts.

Then it hit you.

You are alone in a strange room, in a strange house with a man who's life you had obviously made more complicated. He had been so angry the night before and it had been your fault. You had disturbed his night and you had been the cause of the fight that resulted between the Russian and your father. Your father was right, you were a terrible person. Everything was your fault. Then you remember... this man had had a weapon... and he knew how to use it...

Ivan noticed that you had started shaking again. He gives you a sweet little smile.

"What's wrong little one? Why are you shaking?"

He walks over to the head of your bed and sits down beside you. The only thought you have in your head is, "Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me..."

Russia's smile fades and he frowns as he looks into your (e/c) terror filled eyes. He reaches out and starts to brush the hair out of your eyes and you whimper and flinch violently. The Russian's purple eyes grow sad.

"It is alright Little One. No one will harm you here. Please, tell me what is wrong."

You don't know if you believe him. Your father often promised one thing and then did the opposite. However he manages to calm you down enough so that your mind can focus on the questions you want to ask.

"S-sir, what happened? Where is my father?", you manage to stutter out. Then you stop.

Oh God. Your father. If possible, your shaking grows worse and you begin to hyperventilate as you quickly scan the room for that monster.

"where, where, Where, WHERE!", your brain screams at you.

Russia suddenly leans over and gently gathers you into his arms. You freeze in terror as the large man begins to rock you back and forth. He is large and warm and for some strange reason, you feel the safest you have ever been in your whole life. You relax and close your eyes, melting into Ivan's loving embrace. You snuggle into his chest, listening to the rumble as he begins to speak.

"Easy, Sunflower. You are safe. I will explain everything to you. Your father threw you at me so he could run away. You blacked out when you hit the ground. I brought you inside my home and had my personal physician come and tend to your injuries. I asked my big sister, Katyusha, to come over and we have both been taking care of you. At one point we were afraid that you wouldn't wake up. After all, you have been unconscious for almost three days. As for your father... let's just say that he's in a place where he can never, ever, touch you again.

Ivan sighed. "I've never seen a beautiful little girl be hurt by her own father like that. I just can't stand people hurting little innocent children... Now I think you need a little more sleep, it will help you to heal faster."

He lays you down gently and strokes your (h/l) (h/c) hair. You couldn't believe that you ever thought that this man was scary. He saved your life and he's taken care of you. No one's ever done that for you. No one. Not since Mommy.

You sleepily look up and say, "Thank you Daddy... I love you."

The Russian man looks startled for a second and then gives you a cute childish smile. He leans over and kisses you on your forehead.

"I love you too, my little Sunflower. I'll always be there to protect you and I'll make sure that Daddy Russia will be the best Daddy in the world. I promise.

You give him a shy smile and fall asleep while listening to your new Daddy singing a beautiful calming lullaby.

This is the first story I've written in a long time. I wanted to point out a few things. First of all, obviously, child abuse is bad. Don't. Do. It.

Next, I tried to show how the Reader feels about Russia and Ukraine by the names she uses for them. Women have treated the Reader fairly well, so she immediately refers to Ukraine by her first name as a sign of trust. Russia being a man however, terrifies you at first. He goes from being "that Russian man", to "Russia", to "Ivan", then finally, "Daddy".

I know the "Daddy" may seem rushed, but an abused child usually reacts to kindness like this in two ways. (That I've seen anyway) One is immediate attachment to the figure that represents love and safety. The other is to reject that person in order to protect themselves from betrayal and further abuse. I wanted a happy ending, so I chose number one.

Oh, and sorry if you aren't a girl. Just replace girl with boy if that is what you are!

A lot of this is my own experiences while I was a child. My father wasn't as bad as the one in this story. At least not physically. I wish I had had someone like Russia to save me back then.

Thank you, anime-otter1408 for the idea. I wanted to try my hand at it.