Scotland x Male!Reader: A Picture Says a Thousand Words

Chapter: 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi again~ Two in a few hours, woo hoo! But I have two chapters already and I'm working on the third, hope you like it and I do plan to make more male reader insters because there just aren't enough of them! XD Ty for reading and hope you like it! p.s I don't own hetalia at all! The characters belong to the creator of Hetalia.

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You sighed as you worked on your art project by yourself, your partner ditching you for some party like he has been for the past month. You didn't care though, because they wouldn't have helped much anyways. It was almost finished and yet you weren't so proud of it. Why? Because that asshole of a partner would get the same grade as you for doing absolutely nothing, and on your schedule it was almost a miracle you got it done.

You were the smartest kid in school and all the girls wanted you, with your (e/c) eyes and (h/l), (h/c) hair. You were quite fit yourself and had a few muscles to show off if you ever wanted, but you refused to wear anything but long (f/c) shirts and black jeans. Always thinking no guy would want you, yeah you were gay and proud of it too, but always dreaming some sort of fairy tale ending like you used to read.

"Faggot, get down here now!" Your mother called harshly, making you wince and set your project to the side. You wondered what beating you would get today, seeing as your mother had a rough day apparently.

"Coming Mom!" You called out as you fixed your hair and left the safety that was your room, going down the steps to see your mother with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. That wasn't a good sign, not by a long shot. With a slap to the face, you looked down and kept your mouth shut like you always did. You had found out that it helped ease some of the torture from her if you just stayed shut.

"Why the fuck have you brought one of your gay boyfriends over?!" She yelled, grabbing onto your (h/c) hair and pulling your face up to face her. You winced and tried not to go for her hand in an attempt to let it go, but stood there slightly confused.

"What? Mom I don't have a boyfriend, I'm too stupid and no guy in their right mind would want a gay like me." You said a bit bitterly, your mother called you all these things and sometimes you'd actually believe it. But somehow you seemed to know better than that and knew your mother was just mad at you still. This didn't change the pleased look on her face though, watching her son downgrade himself more.

"Exactly! Now go and get the damn door faggot." She said before socking you in the gut rather hard. You lost your breath and almost fell to the ground, your hair being pulled as you lost your legs for a moment. She threw you to the floor and you gladly took it, rolling onto your back and trying to take in a deep breath of air that you needed.

After a minute of getting your breathing back you got up, with the help of your trusty couch, and walked to the door with a hand over your stomach as you felt like getting sick. Opening it, you set eyes on the man you hated but found utterly attractive in every way, the same man who was your partner for the art project you had been working on by yourself; Alistair Kirkland. His red hair tousled like it should be while his almost acidic green eyes looked at you with a bit of confusion. You could only think he had heard your mother and became a bit thankful your little sister was at a friends for the night, less he heard screaming then.

"Ye alright there lad? Ah heard some foul mouthed woman in there talkin' ta ye.... Ye sick er somethin'? Ye look like yer aboot ta throw up." The Scottish man said in his accent that always threatened to send shivers down your spine. You simply nodded and shook your head to his questions, pushing the comment off even though it was true your mother was foul mouthed.

"Oh just peachy you know, considering you left me with the project BY MYSELF! And now you're over here and have the audacity to ask me if I'm alright? I'm fine, I always am and always will be... So don't worry because I know you don't already. Want to threaten me about the project? It's almost done don't worry, you'll get the credit you so deserve." You spat at him with rage that came from your mother hurting you, causing you to feel guilty quickly at the Scottish man in front of you with his eyes wide and at a loss for words at your sudden outburst. You needed to work on that, you didn't want to become utterly insane, you had your moments but most of the time it was just silly games and whatnot. "Sorry... Just a bit frustrated over the project, it's 'bout done." You said with a sigh at the end, rubbing your eyes from the lack of sleep. You would usually be in bed by now but needed to get the project done.

"Naw that's fine, yer bitchin' aboot tha project I didn' do. Ah came over ta get it from ye and now ah guess ah don' have ta. Ah can go ta more parties that ye'd never be invited ta because yer just some strange lad in school." Alistair said with a roll of his eyes before muttering something to himself and stepping closer to you. Somehow you weren't that afraid of him, you feared your mother, but not him. "Ye want ta say anymore aboot it?" He asked almost threateningly to you. Your gaze just shifted from him to the side as you stood there awkwardly.

"I said sorry... Night Alistair." You said before turning and going into your house, ending it right then and there. It hurt more than you thought it would and as soon as the door was shut, you ran to your room for comfort. Somehow your mother let this slide since you were in distress and you laid on your bed, praying to the God that had lost your faith that things would get better somehow before getting back to the project.

I can't believe I'm that stupid, my temper got a hold of me yet again and now I'm pretty sure I hurt and scared (y/n) -some names work as guy names so it's alright- and I didn't want to. I just got mad at how he assumed I didn't care at all, but I kind of did. I mean it wasn't much but I still cared a little. But now I fucked up, he didn't even look at me before he went back inside! Though he said he was alright I think he's still not well, it didn't seem like it.... But what can an ass like me do now? I just have to go to school tomorrow and, like (y/n) said I get the grade I so deserve. However, I am somewhat excited to see what he made. His art is always the best and everyone in class loves his work, maybe it'll be better than his last.

I walked away from (y/n)'s house and down the sidewalk to my car, hoping somehow I could fix this without being a dick to him again.