Random Hetalia-Things! (mostly reader insert but a few that are... not!) UPDATED 5/12/17

[Starry_Screamer]

Eyyyy, wassup?

I've sorta missed the Hetalia train, I think, but eh. When the mood hits, it hits! XD

So, ah. As the title suggests, a lot of these will be reader inserts pairing the reader with characters! Because I'm really into those, especially for Hetalia. You're free to make requests for those! And from time to time, I'll probably do ficlets that just involve canon characters.

Any translations will be found at the bottom!

The first one is just kind of a self-indulgent thing because I like Mattie being taken care of by his parents.

Enjoy, and request away if you'd like!

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Characters: Matthew/Canada; Arthur/England

Word Count: 947

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When Mattie wakes up, it’s to something wet and cold dragging across his face. A small whimper makes its way off his lips as he tries to open his eyes. Everything is blurry without his glasses, but he can make out the fuzzy details of… his father…? What’s his father doing here? To say the least, Mattie is more than a little confused. It’s not very often that Arthur even remembers he has two sons, let alone check up on the one who isn’t Alfred. Mattie can’t even recall the last time his father spoke to him, let alone visited.

“P… Papa…?” His throat is dry, causing his voice to come out as a quiet rasp. It hurts, too. His head feels heavy, he’s freezing, and he can barely breathe. Is he sick–? He wasn’t sick last night. “What… what are you…”

“Shh, shh, shhhh. I came to take care of you.” Arthur’s voice, by contrast, is still strong; it’s full of a tenderness that Mattie can really only remember, faintly, from his childhood. Thick eyebrows are already turned up, as if he’s terribly worried. “How are you feeling, my boy?”

That takes a minute to answer. Mattie has to think about it, because even though he feels horrible, he doesn’t want to stress his father out by spelling out just how miserable he is right now. “I… I’m okay…”

The English nation chuckles softly, his touch light as he continues to swipe the damp cloth over his son’s cheeks. It’s clear he doesn’t believe that. He seems willing to humor Mattie, though. “Well, that’s a relief, considering that you’re running quite the fever. You were at 39 degrees the last time I checked.” After a moment, the cool fabric pulls away. “Thank goodness Alfred phoned me.”

That just makes Mattie even more confused. Why did his brother come over? They weren’t supposed to do anything today, and there wasn’t a world meeting scheduled either. “A… Al’s here…?”

“Was here,” his father corrects, moving to stand up. “Something came up, and he had to rush off to an emergency meeting. At least he’s taking it seriously. But don’t worry. He said he’ll be back as soon as the meeting’s over, and that he hopes you feel better.”

The Canadian’s heart sinks a little bit, although he’s perked up a little by the promise of Alfred returning later. Besides, right now it’s just… nice to have his father here. “I, um… I’ll try.” His voice cracks as the sore throat that plagued him upon waking returns. “O-Oh, ow… ow…”

“It hurts to speak, doesn’t it? I was afraid of that – you were doing an awful lot of coughing while you were asleep.” Careful fingers set on Mattie’s chest. “Can you breathe in for me, love?”

“O… okay…” He takes a breath in, and it feels like there’s a lead brick sitting on his chest. It’s not a full breath, and a fit of dry coughs starts immediately after he’s done, but at least he hasn’t lost the ability to breathe completely. “Ow… t-that’s… that’s the best I-I can do, Papa… I-I’m sorry…”

His father immediately clicks his tongue, taking his hand away. “No, no, dear. You did fine. I just wanted to see if you were having any trouble breathing. You’re wheezing a little, but other than that, you seem alright.” His hand instead moves to Mattie’s hair, gently combing through the tangled blonde locks. “Your throat must be sore, though. Do you think you can manage a little chicken soup? Or are you feeling nauseous?”

Well, if he wasn’t before, he is now. Despite loving Arthur very much, Mattie’s stomach turns at the thought of his father’s cooking. There has to be a nice way to politely refuse… “U-Um… no, my stomach’s fine… I just… don’t think I’m… very hungry… sorry…”

“Take it easy, love,” Arthur laughs, giving his son’s hair a little ruffle. “I promise, I wasn’t anywhere near the stove. Francis made the soup.”

Mattie blinks a few times, reaching up to rub at his eyes. He’s still so tired. Why does it feel like he hasn’t slept at all when he knows he’s been sleeping all night? “Mmm… Père* is here…?”

“Not at the moment, but he’ll be right back.” Almost immediately, the Englishman takes Mattie’s hand away from his eyes, dabbing at them with the cold cloth from before. “Don’t rub at your eyes, dear; you’ll just irritate them more. Francis popped out to get you some medicine.”

“Oh…” That’s kind of nice, he thinks. Medicine should make him feel better. “Papa…” he mumbles, letting his eyes close fully. “You should go home… I don’t want to… get you or Père sick…” His nose scrunches up suddenly, and a short fit of sneezes comes on too quickly for him to do anything about. “Hhh – hhh’Tchhhuu! HiiIHtchhh! IhhhhHITchhhuu!” He’s left feeling drained, disgusting, and congested. “Nnnghhhh… e-excuse be… I’b sorry… unghh…”

There’s that tongue-click again, a gently chiding noise that Mattie is all too familiar with, coupled with the rustle of fabric. “God bless you. Now, don’t you worry about us, love. We’ll be alright. All we want is to take care of you. Alright?”

Another string of coughs scrapes its way up the sick nation’s throat. After a moment, Mattie decides that even if he really did want them to go, there’s not much he can do about it right now. “… Okay, Papa… t-thagk you…”

“Good boy.” A soft handkerchief that smells like soap is cupped around his nose, one side pressed down. “Blow, Matthew.”

It kind of makes him feel like a child again, but maybe that isn’t so bad.

---

*Father

[lalaland~]

Oh my heart, this was so precious, so sweet. 
( ; ω ; ) poor Matt <3

I can't believe my OTP is the first drabble I'm 

I love this~ I missed Hetalia, it's been so long!

 

(oh hey your location is my name)

[Starry_Screamer]

21 hours ago, lalaland~ said:

Oh my heart, this was so precious, so sweet. 
( ; ω ; ) poor Matt <3

I can't believe my OTP is the first drabble I'm 

I love this~ I missed Hetalia, it's been so long!

 

(oh hey your location is my name)

RIGHT?? If Alfred hadn't visited, Arthur probably wouldn't even have known his baby was sick, so it's a good thing Al showed up outta the blue. XD Mattie deserves to be taken care of!!

I do feel the need to mention, though, this wasn't written with Arthur and Mattie being romantically paired up. Just in case, I know shipping can mean relationships besides romance, but I just felt the need to mention! How I view these two (as well as Arthur and Alfred, and Francis and Mattie) is a parental relationship, with Arthur being the dad and Mattie being the son. That's just my view, so just, any ficlets I write with Arthur and Mattie are gonna be strictly familial and not romantic! ^^;

But thank you for commenting!! I'm so glad you liked it! <3

This next one was a request from someone on Tumblr! They originally mentioned PruCan, but since I'm not sure how I feel about that ship yet, I did a little reader insert with Gilbert.

Enjoy taking care of your sick but still awesome boyfriend XD

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 Characters: Gilbert/Prussia

 Word Count: 691

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When your boyfriend doesn’t want to do anything but lie on your lap, it’s pretty clear to everyone that he’s not feeling his best. You’ve already had to call Antonio and Francis to let them know he won’t be going out tonight; his fever isn’t dangerously high, but it’s high enough that you don’t think he should be up and about. Good thing he doesn’t particularly want to be.

“HAHHHKTSCHHHH!” The bundle of blankets in your lap shakes with the force of his sneezing. After a moment, Gilbert’s eyes peek up out of the fabric – giving you the saddest, most exhausted look you’ve ever seen on his face. “Schätzched(1)… I’b so siiiiiick…”

Your fingers gently pull the blankets down from around his face. In your opinion, he’s looking pretty flushed. Just because he’s got chills doesn’t mean he needs to cook himself to warm up. “Oh, I know, baby. You poor thing.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking a hand down the side of his hair. His skin hasn’t gotten any less hot against your lips. “You still have a fever. How are you feeling? No better, I assume?”

It’s not often that you see Gilbert completely drained of energy, and it’s a little unsettling. There are lines under his eyes, which keep threatening to drift closed. Aside from a quick shuffle here and there, he only actually moves when he’s sneezing. “Eh, deid(2)… if adythigg, I feel worse…”

“Do you want some medicine? I think I can give you some more…” You lean forward, grabbing the box of cold medicine from the coffee table. One dose every four hours. “Ja(3), ja, you can have some more now! That’s probably why you feel worse – because the dose I gave you this morning wore off.”

The look on his face suggests that, no, he really doesn’t want more medicine, but he knows it’s probably going to help him feel less miserable. “Haaa – AKKTCHHHeeee! HAHKTSCHHHH!”

A sigh leaves your mouth as you snatch up a couple tissues and press them to Gilbert’s face to clean up the mess. “Gesundheit.”

“Nnnnghhhh…!” He snorts loudly before taking your action as an invitation to blow his nose. “Danke.(4) How did someone as awesome as me get so sick…?”

Instead of scolding him, you just wipe up the little mucus left over and toss the tissues into the garbage bin. “Well, Feli was sick last week. You probably caught it from him.” A smile twitches at your lips as you start filling the medicine cup for him. “It’s not a very awesome explanation, but it’s the most likely one. Jetzt trinken das für mich, liebling?(5)”

He lets out a small groan, a pout forming on his face when he sees the cherry-flavored gag-liquid you’re holding up to his lips. You suspect the only thing that softens the blow is you asking in his native tongue. “Brutto… aber gut.(6)” In one quick swallow, the medicine in gone and his head is leaning on your shoulder – allowing you to hear the congested wheezing his breath has turned into. “(Y/N), Schätzchen… I’m sorry if I’m being a pain… I know I’m hard to live with on a good day… I must be unbearable when I’m sick… tut meir leid(7)…”

“Shh, Gil.” You kiss the top of his head, giving a gentle squeeze to his upper arm. (Or, well, what you hope is his upper arm. He’s practically become one with his blankets by now.) “You can’t help not feeling well. And besides, it doesn’t matter. If you weren’t a pain sometimes, then you wouldn’t be you. Ich liebe dich.(8)” Your fingers shift up to run through his hair in an attempt to relax him. “And nothing is going to change that. Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Nnn… ja… would probably be a good idea…” He rubs his nose against your shoulder for a moment before settling against you, heavy with obvious and undeniable exhaustion. “Ich liebe dich auch(9)… danke…” A yawn interrupts him, and he mumbles the rest in balmy breath against your skin. “I’m lucky… to have someone as awesome as you… taking care of me…”

---

(if any of these translations are wrong or kinda off, blame Google Translate XD)

(1) – (Schätzchen) “sweetie/baby”

(2) – (nein) “no”

(3) – “yes/yeah”

(4) – “thank you/thanks”

(5) – “now drink this/that for me, darling?”

(6) – “gross… but fine”

(7) – “I’m sorry”

(8) – “I love you”

(9) – “I love you too”

[lalaland~]

Oh gosh I didn't even consider romantically! I guess I should be more careful when I say things like OTP  I'm not even sure if I have any romantic Hetalia ships? 

aww Prussia <3 His sneezes really suit his personality!

Your characterization (for all of them so far) is spot on ?

[sneezefetishist]

So cute ♥

I really love it when a new Hetalia thread pops up in the forum. I hope you continue this

[Kushami Suki Da!]

Ah~ I found you forum user! Now I can follow you here, too!

Thanks for the Prussia btw! 

[Starry_Screamer]

13 hours ago, lalaland~ said:

Oh gosh I didn't even consider romantically! I guess I should be more careful when I say things like OTP  I'm not even sure if I have any romantic Hetalia ships? 

aww Prussia <3 His sneezes really suit his personality!

Your characterization (for all of them so far) is spot on ?

Pshhhh, it's probably my hang-up! XD Whenever I see the phrase OTP I just tend to think people mean it romantically? I dunno, that's just how my mind works haha. I ship a few things, but as far as ships as a whole, I don't have tooooooo many in Hetalia.

You're so sweet though, aaaah! X3 There was, if I remember, a sneeze from Prussia on a drama CD?? But that was so over-dramatic, when I heard it my mind just, "oh my God Gil that CANNOT be how you actually sneeze you goofus" XD

That means a lot!! It's been a while since I've written anything Hetalia, and I haven't posted anything Hetalia on the forum before this, so I'm glad to see I still got it~

2 hours ago, sneezefetishist said:

So cute ♥

I really love it when a new Hetalia thread pops up in the forum. I hope you continue this

Thank you!! <3

I tend to get into moods for different fandoms and stuff, so I'm definitely gonna continue, it's just a matter of I either update like every day or it goes months without an update because I'm a derp XD

2 hours ago, Kushami Suki Da! said:

Ah~ I found you forum user! Now I can follow you here, too!

Thanks for the Prussia btw! 

YOU FOUND ME~! Yay!!

You're welcome! He's so much fun to write omg give this baby some love! <3

Next up here is someone who I've taken to calling "the asshole of my heart"... XD I really REALLY abused Google Translate with this one, there's a lot of Italian and translations at the bottom, pfff. The reader is addressed as female in this one but lemme know if you want a male version and I'll add it, all I have to do is change up some of the words~

As always feel free to request if there's anyone you wanna see!

Mild warning for fever and mentions of vomit but no actual vomiting!

---

Characters: Lovino/Romano; Feliciano/Italy

Word Count: 1928

---

Almost immediately after Feliciano opens the door, you can tell something’s wrong with Lovino. He’s just lying there in bed, covered by a couple of sheets, and – most surprisingly – being quiet. Usually there’s at least some kind of remark from him whenever he’s disturbed. That alone makes you worry a little. Just how sick is he if he can’t even bring himself to swear at Feli? Or is he asleep?

“Mi dispiace, solo un secondo(1),” Feli whispers with a squeeze to your arm. “Just a second.” Then he’s gone, sitting down on the bed and gently patting at the part of the sheet that’s covering Lovino’s arm. “Lovi? (Y/N) è qui. Lei è venuto a farvi visita!(2)”

It becomes rapidly apparent that, no, Lovino isn’t sleeping. “Dille di andare via(3),” he grunts. The covers shift around, and you can hear a few dry coughs jump up from his chest. “Non voglio vederla.(4)”

“Non essere così, Lovi! Lei è la tua ragazza!(5)” Even though you don’t know quite enough Italian to know exactly what they’re saying, it’s clear from the few words you understand, as well as the pout on Feli’s face, that Lovino isn’t cooperating. It’s only because he said your name at the very start that you know, vaguely, that they’re talking about you. “Lei ti ama! Non vuoi che lei ti prenda cura di te? Hai intenzione di ferire i suoi sentimenti.(6)”

“Non me importa. Non voglio che lei mi veda così.(7)”

Feli lets out a soft sigh, his hand rubbing at Lovino’s shoulder. “Non essere cosi testardo. Lei ti ama. Lei vuole vederti, e lei non si cura come si guarda. Lei sta per sedersi con voi per un po’. Va bene? Vedrai, questo ti farà sentire meglio.(8)”

The growl that Lovino gives in reply sounds tired and nasally. “Feliciano, ti so dicendo–(9)”

“Non importa!(10)” the younger Italian interrupts, a smile on his face as he gets back to his feet. “Basta rilassarsi ed essere felici con lei, va bene? Va bene! Ludwig e io stiamo andado fuori per un’ora o due. Ho il mio cellulare, quindi chiamate se hai bisogno di qualcosa, va bene?(11)”

“Feli–” What cuts Lovino off this time is a couple of wet sneezes, muffled into the sheet he’s wrapped in. “EhhhCHHuhhh! HehhhTCHHiihhh!”

“Salute!(12)” The box of tissues from the nightstand is quickly passed over to Lovino’s other side. “(Y/N) sa dove tutto e, quindi il suo chiedere se avete bisogno di qualcosa, va bene?(13)”

Lovino sniffles thickly, and you can see his form curl up a little. “… Sì, va bene.” Another sniffle, more forceful than the first one. It suddenly occurs to you that, even though you know Lovino’s response is the equivalent of “yeah, whatever,” you’ve never heard him surrender to Feli that fast before. He must really be feeling terrible. “Divertiti. Non entrare nei guai.(14)”

“Va bene! Grazie.(15)” Feli leans down and gives a fleeting peck to the top of Lovino’s head. “Ti amo, mio fratello. Sentiti meglio, va bene?(16)”

“Sì, sì. Ti amo anch’io.(17)”

Feli pats his brother’s arm one last time before finally heading back to you. “A dopo!(18)” It surprises you a little how easily he slips back into English once he’s speaking to you again. “He’s being a little stubborn, but I really think having you here for a bit will cheer him up! Keep an eye on his temperature, va bene? It was almost at 39.4 the last time I checked it. I gave him some aspirin, but that was a few hours ago, so he can probably have more real soon. If his fever gets higher than 39.5, Ludwig says we should take him to the hospital. I know Lovi definitely doesn’t want to go there.”

A sudden pang of sympathy for your poor boyfriend radiates in your chest. That’s a pretty high fever… is Lovino really that ill? When Feli told you Lovino was sick this morning, you thought it was just a bad cold. Now it sounds more like a bad flu. “Oh, gosh… yeah, of course. You and Ludwig have a good time, okay? I’ll take care of him.”

“Ve, I know you will! Bye-bye for now, sorellina!(19)” The kisses he gives on your cheeks are more air than lips, and with that, he’s gone.

You just fidget for a few seconds, staring over at the bed. Lovino’s form is tense as usual, and if you look closely, you can see the telltale movements of him shivering from the chills. Those sheets are probably all that Feli and Ludwig would let him have since his fever is so high. You have no doubt that he looks awful right now, but that’s not what you care about. You just want to help him feel better.

At last, you walk over and take the position Feli was in, sitting next to Lovino on the bed. “Ciao, caro,(20)” you call softly as you run your fingers through his hair. “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but just looking at you answers that question. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Leave be alode…” he mumbles against the tissues in his hand. “HehhCChhhuh! HhTCHHuoo! EH’TTCcchhh!” That last one, particularly, sounds like it hurts, especially if the way he grimaces afterwards is any indication. More coughs rattle their way out of him, and his free arm is tightly coiled around his stomach like he’s in pain there, too. “Go away, go awa–kk!”

You hurry to pat his back, trying to help him get over the coughing fit. It sounds like he’s gasping for breath – it would seriously worry you if it didn’t taper off shortly after you start patting. “Salute! Oh, Lovino, sweetheart.” It becomes evident to you that his rude remarks aren’t just his typical bad attitude. He’s acting shitty now because he doesn’t feel well, and he doesn’t want you to see him weak. He doesn’t really mean any of it. “Do you want something to eat? I can go make you some soup.”

A groan floats up, and you can see him scrubbing at his nose. He looks wretched; hair stuck to his forehead with sweat from the fever, his frame trembling, and his face clouded with a rosy flush. “Yeah. Go – go do that, cagda(21). Go cook add just leave be alode!” His voice cracks, and he starts coughing again. This time they sound like they just keep tickling his throat, scraping it raw as he tries to catch his breath. It even makes his face turn red with the sheer force they’re exploding out of him with.

“Lovino…” Your hands twitch, wanting to help him. These coughs sound worse than before, and you didn’t think that was possible. But if he doesn’t want you around to see him like this, what can you really do?

Once the coughing fit subsides after a moment, and he starts to blow his nose, you move to push up off the bed. Maybe it doesn’t really matter what you’re doing. After all, making soup is technically taking care of him. It’ll make him feel better. “Mm, I’ll… I’ll go make your soup now, okay?”

“A-Aspetta–!(22)” Before you know what he’s doing, Lovino has rolled onto his other side and grabbed your hand. A few more coughs push their way out, then he sniffs and wiggles his nose. “Nnn… tesoro(23), wait…”

That catches you off guard, but as soon as it happens you’re sitting back down, reaching to put a hand on his forehead. If he’s grabbing you like that, whatever he needs has to be serious. “Lovino? What’s wrong? What do you need?”

He shakes his head, giving your hand a feeble tug. When he speaks, his voice comes out gravelly, tired, and deeper than normal. “I… I changed my mind. I’m not hungry. I’ve already puked twice today, and… and your soup would probably just suck, anyway.” It’s obvious that his heart isn’t really in those words. As soon as they slip out, his shoulders sag down and his chest heaves with ragged breath. “Just… just don’t… don’t go.” His eyes flicker away from you before he adds, “Ho bisogno di te.(24)”

“… Oh… Lovino… sweetheart…” Your heart swells with pity, guilt, and most of all love. Has he ever done this before? No, no… never. While he doesn’t usually have a problem cuddling with you or anything like that, he’s never actually asked you to stay with him. The thought strikes you that to say something like that, he must really feel miserable and in need of comfort. You reach down to stroke his hair, kissing his forehead and cheek a few times as you do so. “Of course I’ll stay with you. Baby, as long as you want me here, I’m not going to leave. Ti amo tanto.(25)”

A congested sigh leaves him, and there’s another tug at your hand. Is it your imagination, or does he look more tired than he did a moment ago? It’s clear that now he really, really needs your presence. Rarely is he this persistent and aggressive with you. Despite the fact that he can be a jerk, he’s always been mindful of your personal space – probably because his own is so important to him. “Ti amo anch’io. Now climb in here; I’m not getting any warmer with you not in my arms.”

You chuckle and push your shoes off, pulling up the covers just enough so that you can slip in next to him. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Within a few seconds you’re huddled up with Lovino. In a twist, it’s actually him who’s in your arms as opposed to the other way around. He’s snuggled against your chest, face buried comfortably against your neck, while you rub his back and rake your fingers through his hair. “How’s this, sweetheart?”

“Mmmmbbb… molto meglio(26)…” he mumbles, wiggling as if he’s trying to get even closer. “Feli’s hands are always cold, but you’re so warm. You’re like a heater. My own personal electric blanket, sì? Mi piace molto questo(27)…” He nuzzles his forehead against your neck, moaning softly. “God, I have such a headache. I’m so tired. I want to throw up again. Everything hurts… so bad… I hate being sick…” A snort makes his shoulders shake, and he hisses in frustration. “Nnnngh, tesoro… mi dispiace(28)… I’m sorry for being shitty to you… I know you just want to help… I’m such a fucking asshole and I don’t deserve you for a lover and I don’t deserve Feliciano for a brother… I’m sorry…”

The heat from his body suddenly hits you, and you quickly put a hand on his forehead. This is awfully out of character for Lovino. It feels like his fever’s gotten higher. Shit, you just crawled in with him, too. It would be cruel to leave, but you have to do what’s best for him… “Oh, caro, you’re on fire. I need to go get you some aspirin.”

He tenses up against you, his arms shooting around your waist as he presses his face harder against your neck. “Hehhh… HEHHTSchhhh! HhTTchhhhuh!” The aftermath is moist and warm against your skin, and you instantly regret trying to move away from him. He’s sniffling again; you’re not even sure he actually recognizes that he just sneezed on you. “Do, do, doooo… dod’t go… please… per favore, per favore, per favore(29)…”

“Lovino…” You sigh quietly, and just tighten your grip on him.

Alright, he needs you right now. You’re there for him. The medicine can wait just one minute.

---

(1) – Sorry, just a second

(2) – (Y/N) is here. She came to visit you!

(3) – Tell her to go away

(4) – I don’t want to see her

(5) – Don’t be like that, Lovi! She’s your girlfriend!

(6) – She loves you! Don’t you want her to take care of you? You’re going to hurt her feelings.

(7) – I don’t care. I don’t want her to see me like this.

(8) – Don’t be so stubborn. She loves you. She wants to see you, and she doesn’t care what you look like.She’s going to sit with you for a while. Okay? You’ll see, this will make you feel better.

(9) – Feliciano, I’m telling you–

(10) – Doesn’t matter!

(11) – Just relax and try to be happy with her, okay? Okay! Ludwig and I are going out for an hour or two. I have my cell phone, so call me if you need anything, okay?

(12) Bless you!

(13) (Y/N) knows where everything is, so just ask her if you need anything, okay?

(14) – Have fun. Don’t get into trouble.

(15) – Okay! Thank you.

(16) – I love you, brother. Feel better, okay?

(17) – Yeah, yeah. I love you, too.

(18) – See you later!

(19) – (little) sister

(20) – Hi, honey

(21) – (cagna) bitch

(22) – W-Wait!

(23) – darling/sweetheart

(24) – I need you.

(25) – I love you so much.

(26) – much better

(27) – I really like this

(28) I’m sorry

(29) please, please, please

[sneezefetishist]

Can I request an England x Reader sneezefic?

[Starry_Screamer]

30 minutes ago, sneezefetishist said:

Can I request an England x Reader sneezefic?

Yeah, of course! Any particular scenario or cause? Allergies or a cold? It's fine if you don't have a preference or a scenario in mind though, I just wanted to check before I started writing it!

[sneezefetishist]

Could it be England sneezing due to an allergy he's trying to hide, and he keeps on holding back because he doesn't want the reader to hear his squeaky and high pitched kitten sneezes

[Starry_Screamer]

33 minutes ago, sneezefetishist said:

Could it be England sneezing due to an allergy he's trying to hide, and he keeps on holding back because he doesn't want the reader to hear his squeaky and high pitched kitten sneezes

Yeah, of course! That's so cute omg. I don't really imagine him having super high pitched sneezes, but they're probably "cute" enough that he's not keen on anyone hearing them, especially his S/O~

I'll definitely get to work on that!

[sneezefetishist]

Could the reader be male? I'm sorry I didn't ask this earlier...

[Starry_Screamer]

57 minutes ago, sneezefetishist said:

Could the reader be male? I'm sorry I didn't ask this earlier...

It's okay, it's no problem! I've started writing it, but this one seems to be turning out that the reader will be gender neutral, so you can imagine them as any gender you like!

[Starry_Screamer]

Here's that request!! Hope you enjoy! <3

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Characters: Arthur/England

Word Count: 1592

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It’s been a nice night, or at least you think it has. Your sweetheart brought home flowers for you, and as an added surprise, he hasn’t worked a lick since he got home. He’s been all yours, first for a romantic dinner, then dancing to your favorite songs as the two of you did the dishes, (with him singing every word in your ear), now snuggling on the sofa as you watch an old movie. The flowers sit in a glass vase, making the house seem a lot brighter and more… well, more like a home. You’re nestled against Arthur’s chest with his arm around you, enjoying the sensation of him breathing.

Your eyes drift closed and you’re about to fall asleep to him stroking your hair when you suddenly feel him gasp in a huge breath. “Arthur–?”

When you look up, he’s got a finger under his nose, and his cheeks look a little red. The position quickly changes, now with his hand palm-down over his mouth. “Ahhh, sorry, love…” You could swear you hear a small sniff, but he just clears his throat and brings his hand down, so you let it slide. “Just a yawn. It’s… getting late.”

“Mmm… yeah…” In spite of the nagging suspicion in the back of your mind, you let yourself get comfortable against him again. “Let’s just sleep on the couch tonight?”

The look he gives you makes you want to giggle. “That wouldn’t be proper, and you know it.”

Half out of protest, you squirm around and lay down in his lap, grinning up at him. “What are you gonna do about it, bunny?”

“…!” His face goes completely pink at the nickname; you’re lucky he’s a gentleman, else he might have just pushed you off his lap right then.

Satisfaction blankets your face as you settle in. “That’s what I thought!”

“(Y/N), love, can you–” There’s that same gasp you heard a moment ago. This time when you look at him, his nose is all scrunched up. “U-Ugh, hehhh…! Can you pl… pleehhhh… please… get up a moment…?”

You hurry to straighten up, getting off of his lap. “Arthur? What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head, he simply waves a hand at you as he gets to his feet. “N-Nothing! I just ha-hahhhh… have to… go to the restroom… b-back in a jiff, I promise!”

As soon as he’s out of sight, you hop up to follow. Is he hiding something? His breath sounded off, and desperate. There’s no way he had to go that bad. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it almost sounded like he had to sneeze. The thought gets your attention; have you ever actually seen Arthur sneeze? You rack your brain for a few seconds before coming up with a ‘no’ on that front. You’ve seen him with little fevers, coughing, headaches… but you’ve never seen or heard him sneeze. Logically, your next question is why not?

You’re too concerned about him to leave this alone, and you’re right outside the bathroom door just in time to hear what’s going on. And based on what you can hear, what’s going on is your boyfriend’s having a sneezing fit in there.

“IhhhSHHOOO! Huhhh’TCHHhuuu! UhhSHHHuoo! H… h-huhhhh–! HUSHHuuu!” A liquid sniffle and the sound of something ripping follows immediately. “Oh, bloody hell… this is absolutely disgustigg… cad’t believe I forgot by bloody haddkerchief…”

A frown forms on your face rather quickly. Is he sick? He didn’t feel feverish at all. If he were sick, he also wouldn’t be snuggling with you – he takes extreme consideration to not spread his germs to you when he’s ill. Why is he sneezing so much, then? In spite of your worry, you can’t stop a little flutter from taking root in your stomach. His sneezes are kind of big, but they’re so… adorable. It’s like his voice goes half an octave higher when he sneezes.

After a few seconds of him sniffling some more, you raise your hand and cautiously knock on the door. “Arthur? Are you okay in there, bunny?”

“Ghh–!” It’s less than a second later that the sink faucet turns on. “J-Just peachy, poppet! Go back to th-theeehhhh…! Back to the other roob, I’ll be ba-ahhh… back in a bobedt!”

Regardless of his instructions, you lightly push the door open. “Arthur–”

The love of your life currently has his face hidden in a wad of toilet paper, standing in front of the sink and attempting not to sneeze his head off. “L-Love, I told you t-to… t… huuhhh…! Go… back… hhhh…”

“Arthur…” You hesitate for a moment, then walk closer and put a hand on his back. “Just sneeze, would you? Holding it back isn’t good for you.”

Despite how intent he’s been to hide it up till now, that seems to be all the prompting he needs. “Hhhhh… UHHSCchhooo! ITSHHHuu! HuhhUSCHHHooo!” He wheezes for a moment, and you can see tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “IHHSHHHoooo! USHHHuuu! Oh, God… fuckigg hell…”

You manage to grab some more toilet paper for him as you start to rub his back. “God bless you, sweetheart! Here…”

The sniffles and sheepish expression on his face as he takes it from you are hardly the picture of the perfect put-together gentleman he usually is. It’s not like you mind, though. He’s kind of cute like this, all vulnerable and embarrassed. “Thagk you…” Not even ten sneezes in and he already looks exhausted. Poor dear, something must really be getting to him. “I-I’b so sorry about this…”

“Have you been holding those back all night?” The tone in your voice makes it clear that he had better not lie to you.

“… Well… dot all dight…” During the transfer of his used toilet paper into the trash and the new pressed to his face, you get a glimpse of his nose. It’s starting to look pink and raw, probably as a result of him rubbing at it so much and using this instead of his handkerchief. He turns away from you about as fast as he can and gives his nose a few quiet blows to clear out the congestion in his voice. “When I went to the restroom during dinner, I… was able to… ISCHHhhooo! IHH-HIHshhhuu! Ugh… a few… hit me then, too.”

A sigh leaves you before you stretch up and press a kiss to his nose. “You don’t have to do that. What are you allergic to, anyway?”

Both your action and question seem to catch him off guard. His eyes widen a bit as he tries to scrub the tears away. “Ugh, darling, don’t do that… I’m a mess. And how do you know I’m allergic to something? For all you know, I could have a cold I’ve been trying to hide from you.” The corner of his mouth quirks upward a little when he says that, his way of trying to dampen any concern you have.

“You couldn’t ever hide a cold from me, Arthur.” Just to see him pout, you kiss his nose again. “If you had a cold, you wouldn’t be touching me or kissing me or even breathing around me. You’d be too afraid of getting me sick.”

His features shift to looking guilty, and the blush from earlier in the evening returns with a vengeance. “I… you… notice those little things?”

“Duh, of course. Now, seriously, what are you allergic to? Or don’t you know?”

That flush across his face only deepens, and he looks away from you as he wipes his nose. “The… the flowers. I didn’t realize it when I got them, but halfway home, I started sneezing like mad…”

Ah… that makes sense. Just being in the same room with them or close enough to them would be bad enough, but since he carried them all the way home, he’s also probably got pollen all over his clothes. “Okay, well… we’ll throw them out.”

“But I – I got them for you.” He almost looks like he’s just been punched in the gut. “It wouldn’t b… be… – HIHTSCHHhooo! UHSSssshuu! HUHTSCHHhhuooo!”

You shake your head, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet and running it under the water. “God bless you. Sweetheart, I appreciate the gesture, but honestly, I don’t need flowers to know that you love me. Especially if they’re going to make you miserable.”

“B-But I–” He splutters as you start wiping his face, and lets out a little squeak. “D-Darling!”

“Shhh, I’m just trying to get your face to be less itchy. C’mon, now. Can I throw the flowers out? Pleeeease?”

A defeated sigh makes its way out of him, and he shakes his head. “Alright, alright. You can do it tomorrow, because they should spend at least one night in the house. They make everything look warm and inviting.” Reaching down, he takes the cloth from you and gives a brief swipe over his face to make sure he’s clean before leaning over to give you a kiss. “Right now, would you please go downstairs and turn everything off? I… think I’m going to have a quick shower and change my clothes. It’s been a long night… I’m going to see if I can’t get this bloody sneezing to stop, then I’m immediately going to bed.”

You laugh softly, returning the kiss. “Of course, sweetheart. That’s no problem. And, next time…” Your finger taps against the tip of his nose, making it twitch. “Just let out those cute sneezes of yours, okay?”

[sneezefetishist]

So cuuuuteee!!! 

[Kushami Suki Da!]

Aaaah! Canada, Prussia, Romano, and England are my favourite characters! The England one especially made me melt! 

[Starry_Screamer]

21 hours ago, sneezefetishist said:

So cuuuuteee!!! 

Haha thank you, I'm so glad you liked it!!

15 hours ago, Kushami Suki Da! said:

Aaaah! Canada, Prussia, Romano, and England are my favourite characters! The England one especially made me melt! 

Mmm, you're speakin' my language! I mean I have a few more favorites in addition, but YEP, Mattie, Gilbert, Lovino, and Arthur just tick all my boxes~ Do I use the human names too much?? XD

OKAY so! First of all, definitely be sure to make requests if there's something or someone you'd like to see!

Second of all... heeeere's some fluffy Russia for ya because I am weak for this man~

---

Characters: Ivan/Russia

Word Count: 1236

---

“HaAPPchkki!”

“Bud’ zdorov!(1)”

“Ahh… spasibo…(2)”

“Pozhaluysta!(3)”

“Haaahh… AAPpchhkk!”

“Bud’ zdorov!”

“Ahah. Yeshche raz spasibo.(4)” Ivan reaches over to pat your head, stroking down your hair. The smile on his face betrays how irritated he is; you’ve learned to just not mention it. “You know, printsessa(5), you don’t have to be saying it after every time I sneeze. You’ll never stop saying it if you do.”

You feel your face go red, thanks to a combination of the nickname, the little ‘scolding’, and the reminder that, yeah, he’s probably going to be sneezing quite a bit for the next week. “Sorry… I’m trying to practice Russian. I’m afraid I’ll forget a word if I don’t say it over and over, so…”

His features soften at the confession. “Ne volnuysya(6), printsessa,” he murmurs with a quick kiss to your forehead. “Your Russian is fine. You don’t need to parrot the same word over and over, I promise. You aren’t that bad. If you were, I would be correcting you!”

“Prosti(7)… I thought maybe Russian would make you feel more at home, so I was trying really hard.” Wrapping your arms around on of his, you lean against his shoulder. At least he’s understanding about it. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can head back to the hotel if you want.”

In one move he’s dislodged your arms and wrapped his own arm around you. “Da(8), kukolka(9), you’re too sweet for your own good. But today is for you, and this is what you wanted to do. I can’t be a good druzhok(10) if I’m being selfish, can I?” His free hand rubs roughly against his nose for a moment, before he lets out a small sigh. “Nyet(11), nyet, this is nothing I can’t handle. We will finish our nice stroll in the park. Da?”

“Mm… okay.” You nuzzle close to him, always feeling safe and happy when he’s holding you like this. “But… only if I get to kiss you a lot!”

The expression on his face flickers to surprise, briefly, then he looks much more content than normal. “Da, if that is what you really want for your end of the deal. Ty takoy milyy!(12) You know you can kiss me anytime but that’s what you want in return for doing something that’s already for you? Vau(13), I want to squish your cute face!” Before he can carry out that plan, his breath hitches and he turns to duck his head into his sleeve. “Hu’UHPPkkchhhh! AHPppchhhki! ‘PPCHHhkkee!” You can see him wiping his nose for a few seconds before relaxing again. “Ah, prosti… I cad’t stop sdeezigg. It’s all these flowers, I’b sure.”

“Da, probably. You’re used to not having much growing back home.” When you snuggle against him, you can feel that he’s warmer than usual, and you let out a small chuckle. “Dorogoy(14), why don’t you take your coat off? It’s pretty hot out here.”

The look he gives you makes it clear he thinks you’re absolutely nuts. “Chto…?(15) It’s freezigg.”

That’s when you start to get suspicious. Yeah, he’s been sneezing ever since you arrived in America, but – who’s to say it’s actually the flowers? It’s a fairly balmy summer day, and he’s cold. That’s a red flag to you. “Ivan, honey… c’mere a minute.” Gently pushing yourself away from him, you stand on your tiptoes to get a better look at him. Now that you get one, his face is a little flushed, and his nose is starting to turn red. There’s an odd, glassy look in his eyes, like they’ve been replaced with marbles. “You’re not looking so good.” When you press a hand to his forehead, not only does he let out a strained whine, his skin is warm. “Oh, my gosh. You’re running a fever!”

“Dyet!” His face instantly darkens with more flush, and he grabs your hand to pull it down. Even though he denies things all the time, in an attempt to prove that he’s always right, you’re the one person who rarely lets him get away with it. As much as he knows you’re not going to concede, he’s still going to fight. This time you don’t really blame him; who wants to be sick, after all? “I’b dot–” He stops to let out a small snort, apparently in an attempt to clear the congestion from his voice. “I’m not sick, (Y/N). It’s just these tupoy(16) allergies. YA ne bolen.(17) I can’t be. I am being Russia. Strongest country in the world, remember?”

You give him a gentle look, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Even though you understand where he’s coming from, it’s not going to do him any good to refuse reality. “You have a fever, dorogoy. You need to take care of yourself or you’ll just feel worse.”

He won’t look at you, and his face is even redder now. His eyes squeeze shut, his chest drawing in what sounds more like a wheeze than an actual breath. When he opens his eyes, it’s the saddest, most frustrated expression you’ve ever seen on his face. “YA ne khochu bolet’(18)… this was supposed to be a nice trip… I – I was supposed to try and be better for you… I… we… huuh–!” He turns away from you suddenly again, muffling several more sneezes into his sleeve. “Huhh’PPppchhhkk! Ahhh – APPPtchhhkee! HAHHPpchhhkk!” These sound wetter, not to mention he gasps for breath and starts coughing immediately afterwards.

The fact that he’s not trying to hold anything back is proof that he must realize you’re right. You reach up to pat his back as forcefully as you can, trying to help him through the fit. Once he’s caught his breath and has been panting for a few seconds, you shift your hand to gingerly massaging between his shoulder blades. “Aww, Ivan. Listen to you – you’ve definitely got a cold.”

“… Prosti…” He sniffles thickly, hanging his head and rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’b dot so sure it’s a cold. Feels… bore like flu. I’ve beed achy add tired ever sidce we got off the plade.” His nose gets another hard scrub, just irritating it more from what you can see. “I should have told you… it’s just… we should be doigg bore of what you wadt, da? You dod’t wadt to spoodfeed be add lay aroudd id the hotel watchigg be sleep between fits of coughigg add sdeezigg.”

You chuckle, giving him a sympathetic look as you push up to kiss his cheek again. “Who says I don’t? Sweetheart, I want what’s best for you. I mean, yes, it would have been cool to walk around and do a bunch of sightseeing, but guess what? There’s always next time. I care more about your health than about being out and about. I just want to be with you, no matter what we’re doing.”

A ghost of a smile turns up his lips, and he leans into your touch. “… Are you sure? That’s all you wadt?”

“That’s all I need.” You tousle his hair, then smile right back. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. It sounds like you could use a long bath, some soup, and a good night’s sleep.”

“Da… that soudds dice. As logg as you’re there.” His head falls against the top of yours as he follows your lead. “Spasibo. You are beigg far too good for be.”

---

(1) – Bless you

(2) Thank you/thanks

(3) – You’re welcome!

(4) – Thank you again

(5) – princess

(6) – Don’t worry

(7) – Sorry

(8) – Yes/Yeah

(9) – baby doll

(10) – boyfriend

(11) – No

(12) – You’re so cute!

(13) Wow

(14) – darling/honey

(15) – What…?

(16) – stupid/dumb

(17) I’m not sick

(18) – I don’t want to be sick

[sneezefetishist]

*squeals* Russiaa!!! I love it when 'In denial' characters blame a cold on allergies and vice versa

[Starry_Screamer]

On 5/7/2017 at 0:34 PM, sneezefetishist said:

*squeals* Russiaa!!! I love it when 'In denial' characters blame a cold on allergies and vice versa

Russia was the one who got me into Hetalia in the first place, tbh!! <3

At first, this was taking the direction of it really IS just allergies but then I was like... hey wait a second, this would be fun...

OKAY SO last night I got a request on my fetish blog for some FACE family stuff. Specifically, Alfred powering through a sore throat and cough for a few days, eventually feeling so sick that he goes to Arthur for medicine... but Arthur reminds him, they're out of medicine! He thinks Al's just kinda exaggerating anyway, tells him to rest and he'll be fine... then wakes up to the lovely sound of his son hacking his lungs out, curled up by the heater and obviously really sick.

So... how could I pass that up~?

There's not as much sneezing in this one as in the last few, buuuut. It still has a lot of nice fever, coughing, etc. stuff. Plus family cuteness! It could be FrUK if you want it to be, but it also doesn't have to be!

This also got... really long because I was having a lot of fun with it. XD

Feel free to request if there's someone or something you wanna see~

---

Characters: Alfred/America; Arthur/England; Matthew/Canada; Francis/France

Word Count: 2947

---

Paperwork is hell for Alfred on a normal day. Paperwork while he’s not feeling well? There has to be some kind of word for worse than hell, because that’s what Alfred’s going through right now.

It started on Wednesday, with nothing more than a tickle in his throat and a slightly runny nose. Alfred being Alfred, he barely let it faze him. All it felt like was a weird reaction to the weather changing. That happened pretty often; cold, rainy days just made him feel a little off. Thursday brought congestion and soreness to the table, enough that he’d stopped at the drugstore on his way to a meeting to grab a small bag of cough drops and a pocket pack of tissues. Given that the cough drops worked like a charm and blowing his nose helped clear up the stuffiness, the young nation thought nothing of it.

Today is Friday, and he’s regretting the fact that he didn’t listen to his body well enough the last few days. Not only does his throat feel like it’s on fire, his whole face feels like one massive sinus headache. The cough drops now do little except take the edge off, and his chest is starting to hurt. Not to mention he can only breathe through one nostril – and not even that well, either.

This stupid paperwork is supposed to be complete and submitted by tonight, so he’s been trying to power through everything, but all he wants to do is sleep for a week.

“Hhhnn – CHOOOO! Ahh–TSCHHooo! Ugh, God…” It feels like he can’t even sneeze right. His nose is completely blocked up, which means any release offers absolutely no relief. He grabs a tissue anyway, blowing his nose several times even though he knows it’s useless. “Fffffbbbt! Ugggghhhh…” Sure enough, despite being able to get rid of a little mucus, the congestion doesn’t change. A glance into the tissue makes him wince before he tosses it into the trash can. “Oh, by God. That’s gross. That’s so gross.”

Clearly, a cough drop every two hours isn’t going to cut it. There isn’t going to be any getting through this without some stronger medicine. So with a sigh, Alfred grabs a tissue before pushing himself up and dragging himself into the kitchen. Upon opening the medicine cabinet above the sink, his tired eyes scan the shelves, and he groans. “Seriously? Dothigg? Ughhhh, dabb it…”

He clutches his tissue tightly, then scrubs at his nose with it. This is ridiculous… how’s he supposed to feel better if there’s no cold medicine? Maybe one of his dads moved it or something. It’s a long shot, but he’s getting to the point where he’s desperate.

The tone of Arthur’s voice when he says, “Come in” makes it clear that he’s a little annoyed by being disturbed. It’s no wonder, though – he’s busy hunched over his own desk, doing his own paperwork. Almost as if he can sense who’s there, the Brit doesn’t even lift his head. “Do you need something, Alfred?”

“Dad–” He pauses to snort and reach to rub at his eyes. He’s so tired. Damn it. “Did you or Papa put the cold bedicide sobewhere else?”

It’s obvious what gets his father’s attention is the thick congestion in his voice. Almost immediately Arthur puts his pen down, turning to look at Alfred and take him in. “We ran out the other day. Matthew had that dreadful cold, remember? I haven’t been to get anymore.”

“Well…” Another slurping sniffle before he continues. “I deed sobe. You thigk Papa would go get sobe if I asked…?”

“I doubt it, because the bloody frog isn’t even home yet.” There’s a huff from Arthur, who seems more concerned with Francis being late than with Alfred being sick. “Have you felt ill for long?”

Alfred continues to rub at his irritated nose, and coughs a few times, making sure to cover his mouth with the tissue. “Uhh… sidce Weddesday. By throat’s killigg be, I have a bodster headache, I’ve beed coughigg add sdeezigg…”

The older nation clicks his tongue, letting out a sigh before waving his son over. “Alright. Come here, my boy, let me feel.”

It takes a few seconds for him to shuffle over, and he leans down as soon as he does.

His father’s hand against first his forehead, then his cheek, and finally his neck doesn’t seem to be any cooler than Alfred’s skin. The touch is still comforting, as is any physical contact from a parent when a child is sick, although Arthur takes his hand away after a split second. “You don’t have a fever. Spring’s starting, so in all likelihood, it’s just your allergies. Did you take an antihistamine Wednesday, yesterday, or today?”

“Mmmhhhh… duh-uh.”

“Well, there you go.”

Seems like a lame explanation as far as Alfred is concerned. He feels sick, so doesn’t it make sense that he actually is sick? “Bu – but – hh – hhhKK–CHHT! Nnnn–XXTchhooo! Nnngt–SCHHoooo!” Thank goodness he had enough time to turn halfway and duck his head into the tissue, otherwise he’d probably get a lecture on not covering his mouth.

“God bless you.” Another tissue is plucked from the box on Arthur’s desk and handed over. “You do sound quite stopped up, though. I could make you some tea, if you’d like? The steam might help you breathe a bit easier.”

Alfred scrunches up his nose at the mention of tea, and shakes his head. Yuck. The only way his dad would get him to drink tea was if his life actually did depend on it. Besides, Arthur has a lot of work to do, too, that was presumably due by tonight. No sense in him getting up to make something Alfred would only take one or two sips of. “Thagks… but I guess I’ll just deal with it…”

That’s the exact moment when Arthur’s eyes roll so far they almost fall out of his skull. “Clearly you can’t be that ill if you’re refusing tea. You did this all the time as a child too, you know? Saying you feel worse than you really are to take advantage of me. Why, once you told me you had a stomachache so I would excuse you from the dinner table, then I found you in the kitchen at midnight, raiding the jar of chocolate biscuits!”

“They’re called cookies, add those odes were SO dot worth a week without dessert,” Alfred grumbles before blowing his nose again.

Despite the fact that it doesn’t change Arthur’s opinion, the Englishman’s face softens slightly. “In any case, if you aren’t feeling well, perhaps you ought to just go to bed a bit sooner. Sleep is the body’s way of… er, well, ‘rebooting’ itself. A little extra rest and you should be right as rain.”

“Mmbbb… that actually soudds like a good idea. I’ll try to fidish by paperwork fast so I cad ddock off early.” He wants to give his father a hug and kiss goodnight, since they probably won’t see each other again until the morning, but he’d rather not risk getting Arthur sick too. “Thagks… g’dight, Dad.”

Before Arthur turns back to his own work, he gives a weary smile and upheld hand toward his boy. “Goodnight, love.”

A few more muffled coughs trickle out of his mouth as he turns to leave. The walk back to his own room seems to stretch on forever, and it hits him that it’s going to be very long night.

---

The way Arthur wakes up the next morning isn’t as terrible as he anticipated it might be. Although he still feels exhausted because he worked so late, he also feels somewhat refreshed – enough to start the day, at least.

His eyes remained closed for a moment, and he’s just about to get up to start his morning routine when he hears something familiar. Actually, it’s more a string of somethings. The sounds are loud, wheezy, and dry, accompanied by small moans and whimpers. Arthur recognizes them from the years of raising several boys; those are the coughs of a sick child. More importantly, one of his children.

He’s out of bed immediately, covers off, not even bothering to throw a robe on over his rumpled shirt and pants. The first thing he thinks is that Matthew’s cold has come back, and he’s definitely going to have to head down to the store and pick up more medicine. It doesn’t really occur to him that it could be his other son until he sees the scene in the living room.

What he sees is kind of a shock. Alfred’s curled up next to the heating vent, not only in his pajamas but also with a thick blanket wrapped around himself. The boy’s glasses are on the coffee table, and despite all the heat, it looks like his body is still shaking.

“Bloody hell, Alfred!” Arthur is knelt down next to his son in a flash, pressing a hand to the younger nation’s cheek. It takes all his willpower not to pull away as soon as he feels the heat rolling off his son’s forehead. Where last night there was nothing there, it’s now undeniable that he has a fever. “Oh, good Lord. You’re running a temperature.”

The contact makes Alfred tremble more, and he whines uncomfortably. “Daaaad, stop… ‘b cold…!”

“You most certainly are not, young man! Quite the contrary, you’re burning up!” It’s not even a full second before Arthur begins to yank the blanket off from around Alfred’s body. “Fucking hell, we have to get this off you!”

A door opens upstairs, followed by the sound of an irritated Frenchman. “Arrête de crier! Il est trop tôt pour cela!!(1)”

“Shut up, Francis! It’s too early for you!”

The other man lets out a groan as he comes down the steps. “Non, non, mon ami, il est trop tôt pour TU!(2) What on Earth is going on down ‘ere?! Do you even know ‘ow late I got ‘ome last night?!”

Now is when Alfred tries again to protest being removed from his blanket, and the sudden, sharp attempt at speech is a horrible idea. He pitches forward into his father’s arms, violent coughs rocking his entire body. They crackle up from his chest for a good thirty seconds before he’s left gasping for breath against Arthur’s shoulder with the Brit rubbing a hand over his back.

Francis’ demeanor changes instantly. “Alfred, mon petit!(3)” He scurries down the stairs and is next to the two of them as fast as he can manage. “Mon Dieu!(4) What ‘appened? Did ‘e catch Mathieu’s cold?”

“I have no idea whether he got it from Matthew or not.” Arthur switches from light strokes to gentle pats, afraid that Alfred is going to start coughing again. “He told me last night that he didn’t feel well, but he didn’t have a fever then. Now he’s boiling.”

“Oh, pauvre petit(5).” Francis hovers the back of his hand against Alfred’s forehead to verify the statement, then nods slowly. “Oui(6)… this is one sick little boy.”

Alfred’s face flushes even redder than it already was. “I-I’m not a little boy, Papa…”

The blonde clicks his tongue and straightens up, dragging a hand over his face. “Pour l’amour de Dieu(7)… it’s so early. Arthur, I’m too tired to drive. If you go get more medicine, I’ll stay ‘ere and start cooling Alfred down.”

As much as Arthur is loath to leave his son when Alfred is in such obvious discomfort, somebody needs to go get medicine. “A… Alright.” At the very least, he trusts Francis not to deliberately do anything that will make Alfred’s condition worse. His hand brushes over Alfred’s cheek, lips giving a soft kiss to the top of the younger man’s head. “Alfred? I’m making a quick run to the store to get you some medicine. Francis is going to help bring your fever down. You do whatever he tells you to, okay?”

“Mmbbbbb…” Alfred coughs a few more times, then nods almost imperceptibly. “’Kay… I biss you already…”

Something in Arthur’s chest tightens, and he hurries to straighten himself up before he talks himself into saying. “I’ll be back in a jiff, poppet. Francis–”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “Ne tu inquiétez pas(8),” he interrupts with a look of understanding. “’E will be alright. I’ll take care of ‘im. Promise.”

Arthur takes one last look at his son, then swallows past the lump in his throat and grabs his keys. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

The Frenchman gives the other a sympathetic smile as he gets to his feet. “Conduire prudemment, mon ami.(9)” As soon as the door shuts and he can see Arthur getting in the car, Francis turns back to Alfred. A sigh escapes his lips as he sees that the American is trying to cuddle closer to the vent. “Mon petit… you can’t stay there. Your fever will get too ‘igh. Allons(10), let me get you up to the couch…”

Alfred lets out a quite whimper as he feels his father looping arms under his and gingerly pulling him up onto the sofa. “Papaaaaa…”

“Shh, shh. I know, mon petit, I know. You’re sick and cold and you don’t feel well at all.” When he manages to get his son situated in what looks like a comfortable position, his fingers run through the boy’s hair. “Try to relax. You are probably going to ‘ate me for what I ‘ave to do next, but your fever needs to come down.”

Next thing Alfred knows, there’s something cold and wet being pressed against his forehead. It makes him squirm, especially since he already feels freezing. “P-Papa… cut it out…”

He doesn’t, of course. “Oh, mon cher, je suis désolé(11)… this is the best way to bring your fever down. Try to ‘old still for me, please…” His free hand gives Alfred’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze, hoping to distract his son from the frigid sensation. “You’re so warm, mon petit. I know you feel cold, but when your fever breaks, you’ll feel better…”

After a moment of Francis wiping Alfred’s face and Alfred coughing as he tries to get away, the ill nation can hear more footsteps coming down the stairs. “Père?(12) What’s all the noise? Is everything okay?”

“Mathieu!” The Frenchman’s hand withdraws from Alfred’s shoulder, waving at his other son. “Can you come over ‘ere and keep Alfred company? ‘E isn’t feeling very well. Arthur went to get ‘im some medicine, and I’m trying to get ‘is fever down, but…”

“Oh…” Mattie blinks blearily at the scene and rubs his eyes before shuffling over to join his brother on the couch. “Yeah… I know, Al, it doesn’t feel good to get wiped down when you already have the shivers.” His hand is soon around Alfred’s, scooting close and pulling out his phone. “Lemme see if I can keep your mind off it till Papa gets back, okay? Here, I’ve got this fun new game I just downloaded!”

Through the feverish haze, Alfred can feel his nose starting to itch again. This feels so unfair; he spent half the night coughing and sneezing, preventing him from getting much sleep, and now it’s still happening. “Hehhh…” He tries to twitch his nose so it’ll stop, but that doesn’t work. It would be really disgusting to sneeze all over his brother or his father… it’s coming kind of fast though. His chest jumps only once, and before he can decide against it, he jerks forward, spraying directly in front of him. “Hehhk – CHHHT! Hh – NXXT! Nx – CHHooo! Ehh – nGGTCHHHoooo!” At least this way he avoids aiming it one way or the other. Of course, this way, he’s also now got a thick string of mucus hanging out of one nostril, which makes him suck in an erratic breath and start coughing, so… pros and cons.

“À tes souhaits!(13)” Francis and Mattie exclaim in unison, looking rather surprised. Francis is the first to notice the mess and quickly drops the wet cloth onto the table. “Ooh, my! Let me get you a tissue, mon petit…”

Alfred sniffles pathetically, and it does nothing except make him feel like he needs to cough more. “S-Sorry…”

“C’est bon(14), don’t worry about that!” Francis comes back with a handful of tissues, gently pressing them to Alfred’s nose. “It sounded like you needed that. Blow for me, now.”

Not much comes out when he does, although it feels better to get cleaned up. It eases the pressure in his face and head a little, too. “Thagks, Papa…”

Francis shakes his head, grabbing the wastebasket from the kitchen as well as the box of tissues. “Mon pauvre petit. I need to go back to wiping your face off, alright?”

That elicits a pout from the American, but he nods anyway. Why fight something he knows is going to happen?

“Merci.(15) I swear I will make this up to you when you’re feeling better.”

Several more coughs and a harsh swallow later, Alfred’s eyes drift closed, and he feels Mattie readjust himself so that Alfred can lean his head on the Canadian’s shoulder. “You okay, Al?”

“Yeah…” he rasps. “Just tired. I didd’t get a lotta sleep…”

Mattie tenderly rubs his hand against Alfred’s arm. “Heh, yeah… nobody gets a lot of sleep when they’re sick, eh? You can keep resting on my shoulder if you want. Papa’s gonna be back with the medicine soon.”

And God, Alfred hopes so. He’s never wanted to have both his parents with him so much in his life.

---

(1) – Stop yelling! It’s too early for this!!

(2) – No, no, my friend, it’s too early for YOU!

(3) – my little one (pet name from parents to children)

(4) – My God!

(5) – poor little one

(6) – yes/yeah

(7) – For the love of God/For goodness sake

(8) – Don’t worry

(9) – Drive safe, my friend

(10) – Come on

(11) – Oh, my dear, I’m sorry…

(12) – Father/Dad/etc.

(13) – To your wishes! (French equivalent of “Bless you”)

(14) – It’s okay/It’s fine/etc.

(15) – Thank you/Thanks

[sneezefetishist]

So cute and sweet....I love the FACE family

Is there going to be a continuation of this where Francis and Arthur get sick? 

[Starry_Screamer]

2 hours ago, sneezefetishist said:

So cute and sweet....I love the FACE family

Is there going to be a continuation of this where Francis and Arthur get sick? 

ME TOO! They're all so precious~ X3

I was actually entertaining the idea! If it's something you'd wanna see, I'd love to write a little sequel.

[Starry_Screamer]

I've fallen for Denmark~

---

Characters: Mathias/Denmark

Word Count: 1024

---

“You know, you really should listen to Lukas.” The damp cloth is cold enough in your hand, but you wince at the way it makes an uncontrollable shudder run through your boyfriend’s body. “You went outside while it was freezing, didn’t dress warmly enough, and what happened?”

A string of pitiful, crackly coughs leaves Mathias’ lips, along with a groan. “Ja, jeg ved.(1) I caught a cold. Cad’t you stop wipigg be with that yet? I’b dyigg here, skat(2)…” Even though he catches cold like this all the time, it’s not in your nature to be mad at him for it. Especially given that he feels so awful right now.

You shake your head and keep sliding the cloth over his skin. “No, not yet. You’re fever’s still too high, and that’s probably why you’ve got the chills.”

“Nnnn…” The shivering only seems to get worse. His eyelashes have started fluttering, his mouth hanging open. “H-Hej(3)… hold on a s-sec, I’m gonnihhhhh–!” He buries his face in his hand, two loud sneezes rocking his body forward. “Haaah’ATGGSHH! AaaAHHSCHHu!” The way he grimaces makes it clear that those were kind of messy, and he sniffles desperately as he waves his other hand. “Uh, undskyld(4), cad you gibbe a tissue??”

“Prosit(5), come here!” You hear a murmured “tak(6)” before you lean forward with a couple of tissues. The damp cloth is forgotten in order for you to mop up all the snot and saliva. “Gosh, you sound all stuffy.”

Almost immediately, the tissues are grabbed from your hands and he holds them to his face. “’s ‘cause I ab…” He muffles another sneeze into the tissues, then blows his nose. It sounds like it doesn’t help very much, given that it’s more of a honk than anything. “Åh gud(7)… by head hurts… I’b such ad idiot…”

Really, how can you be angry with him when he’s so obviously miserable? Even though he never learns to bundle up, he regrets it every time. It’s not like you’re going to leave him to suffer alone just because this happens a lot. “Aww, søde(8)… you’re not an idiot. Don’t say that.” You lean down, moving the tissues so you can kiss the tip of his nose. “And even if you were an idiot, you’d be my idiot, and I would still love you very much, you stupid boy.”

“Tak…” Another round of coughs erupts from his chest, and this time he grabs more tissues to hold over his mouth. “Ngh. Gross. The odly good thigg about beigg sick is that you take care of be…” The tissue box makes its way to his lap so he can pull out several more to try blowing his nose again. “Cad you get be sobe gløgg(9)?”

You snort, scooting the garbage bin closer to his side of the bed. Oh, God. The last thing he needs right now is anything alcoholic. “Absolutely not, Mathias. You’re not allowed to drink while you’re sick.”

As soon as you say this, the look on his face very nearly pushes you into reconsidering. It almost looks like he’s about to cry… which is saying a lot, because you’ve never actually seen him cry before. “Venglist…?(10)”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. “Anything with alcohol in it is just going to make you more congested, søde.” Something warm probably sounds good to him, though, and a hot drink might help him feel better. You kiss his cheek, gently rubbing his back. “How about some saftevand(11)? I’ll heat it up; that’ll taste good, ikke?(12)”

 He sniffs against his tissues before tossing them into the bin and snatching a few more. “Ja… that actually sounds… really good. Can I ha-hav… haah – haSSSCHHhu! ATGggshhu! AHTGGshhhh!” If the look on his face and the way he pitched forward is any indication, those snuck up on him. As a result, the tissues he just grabbed are already soaked. “… Uddskyld… cad I have the lebod…?” The congestion sounds a lot thicker now, and another blow doesn’t seem to do much.

“Yeah, of course.” Your disposition softens a little now that he’s agreed to something nonalcoholic, reminding yourself that he’s not feeling well. Most people are grumpy or prone to pouting when they’re sick. It’s just a little surprising since Mathias is usually so upbeat and happy. At least you managed to get him to crave something else without making him upset. “You want it strong or weak?” you ask as you kiss him again, this time planting one on his forehead. It makes you frown slightly; it doesn’t feel like his fever’s gone down much.

He swipes the tissues under his nose before starting to scrub more thoroughly. “Mmbbbb… stærk(13)…” His nose starts to scrunch up a little, clearly trying to keep whatever tickle is bothering him under control. “B-But dot t… aahhh…! Dot too… too… hhhh!” It must be the millionth time today that he’s had to duck his head down into now-crumpled tissues. “HHTGGSshhhu! Aaa’AATSschhhh!‘Gggsshhhh! Ugh, G-God – DHHTSCHhhuuu!”

“Prosit, prosit!” You yank a few new tissues out of the box and replace his soggy ones with them. It kind of tugs at your heartstrings, because by the end of the fit he sounds breathless and looks completely exhausted. The times you see him like this are rare, and you can count them on one hand.

A liquid sniffle is the response you get until he manages to get a good breath in. “T-Tak!” More coughs follow, but they’re not quite as aggressive as the ones just a few minutes ago. “Elskede(14)…”

You rub your hand up and down his back a few times, hoping to make breathing easier at least for a minute. “Let me go get that saftevand for you…”

“Okay, but hurry back, baby…” he rasps, trying to settle back into bed. “I wod’t feel better udtil I have that add you cuddligg up with be.”

That brings a smile to your face as you get up. That’s just like him. “Okay.” One more kiss, audible and emphatic against his cheek. “Mmmwah! Hot lemon saftevand, strong but not too strong, and cuddles coming right up.”

---

(1) – Yeah, I know

(2) – sweetie/baby/babe (Mathias is probably using one of the latter~)

(3) – H-Hey

(4) – Ugh, sorry

(5) – Bless you

(6) – Thanks/thank you

(7) – Oh, God

(8) – darling/sweetheart

(9) – a hot punch consisting of red wine, brandy, sherry, raisins, almonds, cinnamon, and cloves; a Danish tradition around Christmastime

(10) – Please…?

(11) – also called squash, cordial, or dilute; a drink made with fruit syrup and water, typically served cold but often served warm in the winter

(12) – right?

(13) – strong (referring to saftevand, strong means mixed with less water and weak means mixed with more water)

(14) – love (in the context of “my love”)

[MEGARAHAMATO]

Oooh! Denmark.....

I wasn't going to request but I was wondering if you would do x readers for the female nations or Nyotalia...?

[MEGARAHAMATO]

16 hours ago, sneezefetishist said:

So cute and sweet....I love the FACE family

Is there going to be a continuation of this where Francis and Arthur get sick? 

Oooh!! I second this I ♥ F.A.C.E. family sick care taking    

[sneezefetishist]

14 hours ago, Starry_Screamer said:

ME TOO! They're all so precious~ X3

I was actually entertaining the idea! If it's something you'd wanna see, I'd love to write a little sequel.

I'd love to see and am looking forward to the sequel