Hetalia x Reader one shots

You're Too Perfect: Teacher!England x Self-Harm!Suicidal!Reader

     After the rest of class, you scurried out of the classroom before the teacher could notice you. Keeping your sling bag close to your hip, you reluctantly went to the rest of your classes.

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     As the last bell rang, you walked out of the building that had become your hell, and stood in a place only you knew about- the old garden.

     Being surrounded by overgrown rose bushes relieved you. The sweet smell was almost intoxicating, and the foliage covered every entrance. It was never kept up. You got a couple scratches after climbing through, but you, in no way, cared. You were completely hidden.

    You quickly lit up another cigarette, and smoked this one slowly, breathing in through your mouth and out through your nose. The smoke warmed your throat and eased your nerves as it moved through your head. Sitting on a bench, surrounded by overgrown roses, dead quiet; it was better than your house on so many levels. Your mother didn't care about you, ignored you, in fact. Your sibling just bullied the hell out of you, physically, mentally, and emotionally; like everyone else. Your dad, when he wasn't out getting drunk, sexually abused you.

     You were startled when you heard and oh-so familiar voice mumbling near you. You stayed completely still as you heard rustling through the bushes.

     Then in climbed your English teacher.

     He brushed himself off, and looked up, only to widen his eyes at the sight of you sitting on the stone bench. You had widened yours as well, holding the cigarette in between your middle and pointer finger. Your eyes were locked together in shock, neither of you moving.

     "(F-f/n)?" He stuttered, finally breaking the awful silence.

     You cleared your throat. "Yeah, um, sorry, I think I'll just get out of your way..." You stood up and walked over to a small opening in the bush.

     "No, here. Sit with me." He motioned, taking a seat on the bench you were on a moment ago. You did as you were told, stomping out your cigarette behind you. "And don't think I didn't just see you do that." He said, pointing to the smoking butt.

    "I didn't know anyone else knew about this place." You said, changing the subject.

    "Nor did I." Mr. Kirkland replied. "But while I'm here, can I talk to you?" You gulped.

"Umm, what about? My smoking?" You questioned. "It was a one-time thing."

"No, it wasn't. I know you lit up in the bathroom this morning, and I thought I saw a box of cigarettes in your locker when I walked by. It's not a health habit- I should know- but that's not what I want to talk about." You felt your palms begin to sweat, followed by your thighs.

"Okay. What would you like to talk about?" You said, messing with your ring.

"Well, a couple days ago, I was in late grading papers, and I saw you come out of the dark restroom. I wasn't going to follow you of course, but it was odd." You nodded to show you were listening, wearily. "I also stayed in yesterday, and saw you in the halls. It was 7 pm." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Is everything okay at home? Students usually don't wait until so late to go home." Your eyes welled with tears.

"What if I said it wasn't?" You spit out, ruder than you meant.

"Then I would keep it between us, unless you gave me permission not to."

"Then fine. Maybe not."

"Can you elaborate on that?" He said, taking your hand in his, blushing gently.

"My mom ignores me, my sibling bullies me in every way imaginable, and my dad sexually assaults me when he's not out drinking. Happy now?" By this point your were letting tears roll down your face.

"No, I'm not happy at all. Why haven't you told anyone? We can help you!" His expression saddened as a tear hit his hand.

"Because I don't want help. I don't want some shrink to come and assess my feelings, when all I need is some alone time!" You reached into your bag and pulled out your lighter, but Arthur grabbed your wrist, making you wince as he reopened the cut you made earlier. He put the lighter back in your bag and looked concerned.

"You don't need a cigarette right now. What you need is for someone to look at your injury. You're obviously hurt." He began to pull back your sleeve,but you gripped it before he could.

"I'm fine!" You denied. You could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't buying it.

"(F/n). Please. Let. Me. See. Your. Wrist." He spoke slowly, setting some of your nerves at ease. You knew you were caught, so you just let go of your sleeve. He slowly pulled it back, revealing the dozens of cuts and scars along your arm.

"(F-f/n)" he put a hand to his mouth and tears fell from his eyes. He brought your arm to his face, kissing every hint of a cut he saw. When he was finished, he looked up at you, eyes glossy. "You need to stop."

You looked away. You couldn't see your teacher- and the man you secretly fell in love with- crying over you like this. Tears fell in streams down your rosy, flushed cheeks. "I- it's harder than you think."

"But (f/n).... You're just too perfect for such a thing." He wrapped his arms around you. You had never seen him in such a mess before.

You fell into the embrace, gripping his sweater vest on one shoulder and your head resting on the other. He held a hand to the back of your head, and kissed your cheek gently like a mother to her child.

And you stayed like that, for what seemed like forever.

"Promise me I won't lose you." He muttered, the thought of you killing yourself poisoning his brain.

"There's a low chance of that now."

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(A.N. Guess who's back! Back again!)