Sunflower Erasers - Russia x Reader

Note - Teacher!Russia x Depressed!Student!Reader.
PG13!
(w/s) means worst subject other than history.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You were a happy person, really - most of the time. It all started when you got into an argument with your best friend, Elizabeta. It was over a few stupid reasons, really. Being a rather blunt person, you didn’t sugarcoat at all when you told her that the ugly snot green dress looked hideous on her body. It was true - the dress didn’t fit her curves at all in addition to the horrible color. She was also in love with this teacher called Mr. Edelstein that you despised. He was rather boring and bland, definitely strict with rules, and you thought that the brunette could do better. Especially because the man was about eight years older than her. A relationship with a teacher was preposterous, at least you’d once thought. 

It’s been two or three weeks, and neither of you wanting to admit defeat or that one had wronged the other, refused to interact. You haven’t spoken to her since the incident, and whenever you looked at her, she would make a point to ignore you.

The next thing adding on to the loneliness was your parents. You had gotten a D in (w/s). You didn’t understand any of the concepts within it, nor did you ever take interest in the subject. Thus, it was hard to concentrate in that class, especially with such a boring teacher. It was the first D you had ever gotten, and they certainly weren’t happy about that. You couldn’t even be in the same room as your parents without them scrutinizing you.

You sighed, laying your head down on your desk. You didn’t want to deal with anything - not even your favorite teacher, Mr. Braginsky who taught World History. He was a rather peculiar fellow, and was definitely biased towards Russia in his teachings. Obviously he was Russian, with that thick accent and name. He was a really fun teacher though, and it was rather nice watching how his violet eyes sparkled when he was speaking about his country.

“Miss (L/n)?” Mr. Braginsky called, moving over to stand in front of your desk. Uh oh, although he was usually an easy going teacher, when angered, his aura turned incredibly dark and almost devilish.

“Ahaha, yes, Mr. Braginsky?” You sheepishly brought your head up to meet his eyes. Flinching, you feared he was going to harshly reprimand you like he often did to this American kid named Alfred Jones, but a flash of yellow and brown obscured your vision.

“Eh?”

“You seem to be a bit down, and that’s not good for my class.” Your eyes eventually observed that the object he’d shoved in front of you was a sunflower eraser. That was odd. The erasers he gave to students were normally the regular, ordinary pink ones. Mr. Braginsky continued, “Please take this sunflower, and may its golden petals brighten your day.”

He gently placed it into your palm, and you blinked a few times. You almost cracked a smile at the flowery item, but your depressed emotions still managed to restrain you from showing even the slightest bit of happiness.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class, and also coincidentally the start of lunch, as history was the lunch block today. All the kids already rushed out, cheering, but you sluggishly packed up your things before slumping over to the door.

“Wait a second, Miss (L/n).” Mr. Braginsky said, and motioned you over to his desk.

You trudged over, and asked, “What?”

“Little sunflower, you seem to be rather sad today. Do you wish to talk about it?”

Sighing at the fact that you were being questioned by your history teacher of all people, you monotonously answered, “Nope, I’m good.”

Mr. Braginsky smiled and ruffled your hair a bit. “Such a strong girl, but there’s no need to hold it all in.”

That broke you, as your tears leaked out and you lost control of your mouth. Sobbing, you blurted out everything about your friend Elizabeta, the bad grade, your parents. Finally, you were left to gasp for air after the long confession, hiccuping a bit. You attempted to wipe away your tears, but your hands were shaking so much.

Mr. Braginsky brought out a handkerchief and tenderly dabbed away at the droplets of water. “I’m sure everything will get better soon. The future can only get brighter.” He handed you the cloth.

“M-mr. Braginsky, I can’t take this!”

“It’s no problem. I’ll lend it to you for however long you need it. When you’re feeling better, you can just clean it and bring it back to me. Have a nice day, Miss (L/n).”

“Um, you can just call me (F/n), Mr. Braginsky. It’s weird to be called miss, and I feel so old.”

Chuckling, the platinum blonde haired man said, “Only if you’ll call me Ivan when we’re alone. You know, I feel rather old as well when called Mr. Braginsky. I’m not that old, I’m only twenty-two!”

You giggled a bit at his complaint, feeling a lot better already. “Thank you, Ivan.”

The Russian replied, “It’s nothing, now get to lunch! You also should really make up with that friend of yours. Friends are more important than the arguments that spawn from companionship.” He sighed, “That’s what I think at least. You wouldn’t want to end up a lonely, friendless person like me, no?”

You impulsively grabbed his hand when you heard the sad, pathetic statement and cried, “H-hey! I’m your friend!”

Mr. Braginsky’s, no Ivan’s, eyes widened before he gave the brightest smile yet. “Ah yes, you’re right, (F/n). Thank you.”

With that you left, feeling quite determined and motivated to reconcile with Elizabeta thanks to the wise words of Ivan Braginsky, your World History teacher. You apologized profusely, only to be surprised as the girl broke down as well, saying sorry a thousand times to you too. Your friendship was restored, and now you could understand how it was possible to really like a teacher.

The next few weeks, you spent a lot of time after school with Ivan to help him with anything he needed. You’d wash the whiteboards, clean desks, help him organize his papers, and do other sorts of things. It sort of sounded like a detention really, but you actually enjoyed every second you spent with him.

Ivan was surprisingly knowledgeable about (w/s), so he helped you out with your homework in that class and studying in return for your assistance in the classroom. Slowly, but surely, your grades in (w/s) were rising because the man knew how to describe the subject in easily understandable ways. You owed a lot to him, and the gloom that followed you around was also gradually lifting.

Months passed now, and you grew even closer to Ivan. He shared funny stories about his rather creepy and clingy sister, Natalia. However, you could tell that although he seemed sort of frightened by her, you could also see that he truly did care for his little sibling. Ivan also introduced you to another sister, Katyusha. His older sister had um, large breasts that were slightly distracting. Though the woman was a really sweet person.

You were falling hard for Ivan. You tried to resist it at first, knowing that he was a teacher and you, his student, but eventually you realized that it was impossible to go against fate. You would fall in love, and there was no stopping it.

Sometimes, you thought he shared the same feelings, as he often stared at you with an intense, almost loving look in those amethyst eyes. Occasionally when he gave you more sunflower erasers (for free and only for you, just to mention), he would let his hand linger bit, fingers caressing your own.

However, the World History teacher never made a move. He never made a move - until now.

“(F/n).” Ivan spoke seriously.

“Hm?” You walked over to his desk and looked at him curiously. You felt your heart beat a bit faster at the emotions within his eyes. “Do you need something?”

Ivan placed another sunflower eraser into your hand. “Look on the back.”

Flipping the object over, you gasped at what was written - “Be mine?” You stuttered a little, blushing. “Ivan-”

The purple eyes shone with lust and was that love? “(F/n), you’re my sunflower, my source of happiness. You were one of my first friends, and I’d like it if you’d be my only lover.”

“God yes.” That all you managed to say, before he lunged forward and claimed your lips. Ivan was kissing you with an unbridled passion, revealing that he must have been holding himself back for such a long time that all his desires were released in this one explosive moment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he tangled his fingers into your (h/l) (h/c) hair, pulling your face closer to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, as if asking for entry, which you permitted. Ivan then brought his tongue to dance along with your own, swallowing any moans that ran free from your mouth.

Ivan picked you up and set you down onto his desk, as he moved to enthusiastically mark your neck. Running his lips down the soft skin, and nibbling at certain areas, you two lost yourselves in the strong emotions called love.

Laying on the table, the only witness as you two entwined your hands, was a sunflower eraser.