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aller-geez · 24 hours ago

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hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck. But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic. He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

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svenska-ghost · 1 year ago

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The Identity of the Three Unnamed Micronations - A Hetalia Theory

So you all know these little guys from the 500th chapter in the World Stars manga, right?

They were obviously teased as other micronations that we may or may not get an identity for, so I'm here to theorize which micronation they could be and why.

Firstly, to get a better idea of them, we have to look at their dialog. So we're off to run this thing through Google Translate!

(Translation by @/gobernadoraph)

The one on the right is Australian, given the hair and the huffing out air thing that Australia and Wy do. But which one, I don't know. In Google Translate (I don't trust it though) seems to imply they don't care for independence and was some sort of national research project instead. This is the one I don't have any idea of on who they are, since all the Australian micronations I researched don't fit the bill on being a "research project".

My main running theory is that this is the Empire of Atlantium, but then again, that's a bit of a stretch since they seem to view themselves as a legitimate nation, and this one seems to scoff at the idea of independence. So this idea is highly unlikely. Who knows, maybe Himaruya found yet another obscure micronation to personify.

The middle one was theorized to be the Garden Republic of Sirland. Which I think fits, given the sun hat and simply wanting the plant vegetables. This theory was brought by @/gobernadoraph from the MochiDex server! Here's to hoping this is a cute girl in a sun hat and not a femboy twink..

The left one I have the clearest idea of who they can be, they're the Republic of Whangamōmona. Why do I think this? Well, look at the character's design.

The mouth looks reminiscent of New Zealand's. They hold a cane, just like New Zealand, the hair even looks similar to his! (To me, it looks like a mix of Ireland and NZ's hair, minus the ram horns) that flower thing next to them also frequently appears whenever NZ speaks in the manga!

Also, this may be a bit of a stretch, but their outfit is also similar to one of NZ's outfits in his concept sketches with the open jacket.

So this is the one I am the most certain on being which micronation is which, besides, it'd be a nice edition to Oceania since Hima hasn't given Tonga a canon face and it's been years..

BUT WAIT- I HAVE MORE!

What if these three were meant to parallel the main OG three micronations? (Wy, Sealand, and Seborga) like what if they're some kind of new generation version of them? (Probably not, but who knows. Maybe they are, in some way)

Now, let's explore that idea.

The guy on the right could be a parallel to Sealand since they don't seem to be concerned about independence and kind of laugh at it. Or thinks the idea is so ridiculous that they don't believe it. Unlike Sealand, who is very eager to prove he is a real nation.

The middle could be a parallel to Wy, who, unlike her, isn't sassy or headstrong. Instead, we get someone who is rather nervous and shy, judging from the sweat emote things.

The left one could parallel Seborga, but instead of flipping it around like the other two, they're just chill like him.

But until Hima actually introduces us to them (which is probably unlikely, if I'll be honest) and gives as canon identities and designs- these will just remain theories and speculation.

Anyways, goodbye, and thanks for reading this all the way through! And if you have any better ideas on who these lil guys can be, tell me in the replies or reblogs!

#hetalia #hetalia world stars #hetalia headcanons #hetalia micronations #hws #hws micronations #hws niko niko jr #hws japan #hws sealand #hws wy #hws seborga #svens talks #svens stuff

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