Hetalia One-Shots [NOT TAKING REQUESTS]

Wounded!Sweden x Reader {Song Fic}

Art of War

Requested by ll-Turkey-ll

(I'm soooooooo sorry for this taking way too long to get to.. ;; I'm a terrible human being, This is way longer than I have expected for any of my one-shots to go. However, I hope you enjoy this piece. I enjoyed writing it).

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I was just a kid then skipping stones
Innocent and so alone 

I guess nobody knew who I was talking about when I speak of the war and how it changed people. How it changed me. Honestly, it was something that I did not want to work myself up for, at least not again. It all started, my story, when I saw him in the creek, young and handsome. I never considered my story as a love story.

I was ten years old. I was walking home from school, deciding that I wanted to do something somewhat productive in my life. I knew there was a creek beside the road that leads to my house so I decided to take a visit. That was when I saw him. It was a boy around my age. He didn't see me or notice me. He was captivating and I knew I had to talk to him. He seemed to be chucking small stones into the water, failing for it to skip. I could not help myself but to laugh at that, completely capturing him off guard.

His eyes, misty and full of shock and embarrassment, widened as they landed their gaze on my figure. I wasn't much of a kid, myself. I tended to be lazy, chubby, absolutely normal. I didn't want to be outside like all the other kids. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, having loves and being happy outside.

I found joy in being alone and being inside.

How did I get outside is another story.

Turning on his heels, the boy was fully turned to me. His hands that held the rocks were dropped to the ground. I don't remember much about this memory, but I did remember smiling lightly at him. I was never much of a talker, and younger me judged by the way he was poised and sealed his lips, he wasn't much of a talker, either. Strange, I had thought, how someone so introverted was outside, wanting to skip stones. I almost wanted to ask what he was doing, but I had no control over myself that I just walked right up to him and picked up the stones he had dropped minutes ago when we our eyes met.

I could feel his lingering gaze on my 10 year old self. I didn't give him a glance very often, and when I did, it was to see if he was looking or not, which in many cases, I had caught him staring at me.

I came around the creek about noon that day, and when we were finished skipping stones, it was close to sunset. Though this boy was a stranger to me, and we barely even talked, I still did not know his name, much to my shame. We glanced around the environment, feeling the exhaustion befell us as our tired eyes dart to the forest behind us. The boy looked at me again and placed a gentle hand on my forearm. I gulped suddenly and looked at him, fear laced in my eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't get to hear anything then because I did something rash.

I spoke.

"M-my name is (Y/N)" Flabbergasted, the boy, whom I had now noticed his features, scratched the blonde mess of hair on his head and adjusted the brown glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was wanting to say something, and he was about to if it weren't for me rambling on and on about my 'sad' childhood. He kept watching me with those blue eyes, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was thinking, but I had taken it the wrong way.

"A-Are you mad at me?" I squeaked out when I noticed how he was looking at me sternly. Supposedly, his face had softened and there was a ghost of a smile on his face. He shook his head and held up his right hand.