Hetalia x Reader

SuFin x Suicidal! Child! Reader

  How many (pick an age) year olds want to kill themselves?
You do, but why?
"Your stupid!" One boy shouts as he kicks your ribs that were already badly bruised.
"Your ugly." One girl shouts as she kicks the middle of your back.
Now you know why a (pick an age) wants to die.
Your foster siblings bet the hell out of you and your foster parents just think your clumsy. "No one wants you."
"Kids, dinner is ready." Your foster mom calls.
The kids leave you to cry on the floor of your bedroom.
You crawl your way over to your bed and pull out a razor blade you took from your foster dad. You look it over before putting it on your wrist.
"Today's the day I'm going to do it. I'm not going to chicken out."
"(Your name)?" Your foster mom showed up at your door. You quickly hide the blade. "Are you coming down for dinner?"
"Yes. I'll be down in a second."
She left. You looked at the blade before putting it back.
"Maybe tomorrow, my friend."
You dragged yourself sore body downstairs and to your chair at the table.
"I have good news, (your name). A couple is coming to meet you tomorrow."
All of your foster siblings stared daggers at you.
"That's good."
After dinner just before bedtime you got yet another betting before they left you. You laid on the floor and fell asleep.
The next morning you stood on the stairs as your foster parents talked to two men. Your bags were packed.
Your foster siblings were laughing out loud.
"You get the gay parents." One girl says.
"Better her then us." Another girl says.
You were waved over.
"(Your name) this is your new daddies. Be good for them." Your foster mom said.
"Hi (your name)." The shorter man said.
He was so nice, just saying those two words brought tears to your eyes. You dropped your bag and hugged him. It took him by surprise but he hugged you back, picking you up.
He carried you out while the taller man grabbed the bag you dropped.
At your new home your room looked like it belonged to a princess.
"This is all mine?"
"Yes." The taller man said as he put your suitcase on your dresser and open it.
"No, no, no I can take carry of them, papa...er can I call you papa."
"Papa's fine." He said before leaving you to take carry of your clothes.
What you didn't want him to see was your blade.
You took it out and sat on the edge of your bed. Harsh words filled your head. You placed the blade to your wrist.
"(Your name)!?" Your dad yelled as he pulled the blade from your hand. He held you tight but you winced in pain. He noticed and pulled away. He lifted your shirt a little to see you bruised stomach.
"What happened to you?"
With tears pouting from your eyes, your dad holding you and your papa standing in front of you. You poured your heart out from the mean words to the betting and fail attempts to kill yourself.
Your papa left the room and slamming his fist in the wall.
"(Your name) your safe now. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again." Your dad said. "Your papa and I will protect you."