Nosebleed


Quite abruptly you stood up, threw your phone on the couch, and put a hand to your nose. You tried to stop the blood from falling down your face and ruining your clothes or the loveseat you were just sitting on. The five Nordic men watched as you slowly made your way to the bathroom.

"Are you okay (Name)?" You heard Finland ask, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Yeah, just a nosebleed," You replied. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the small Finnish man get up to help you. He held your (Hair Colour) hair back and out of the way. He handed you a few more tissues and threw the bloody ones away.

Back in the living room Denmark had immediately made his way to your phone with the hopes of finding something interesting. When he slid his thumb across the bottom of the screen to unlock it, he suspected what he saw was the cause of your nosebleed.

On the screen was a text sent to you from Hungary. The text wasn't really text at all. I was a picture of Germany and Prussia working outside, shirtless, with sweat rolling down their bodies. Germany's hair was messy, unlike his usual style, so wasn't Prussia's. They both wore their military pants and knee-high black boots. It was a picture that many women would want and pay good money for.

Denmark just grunted with distaste as he threw the phone back onto the couch. "Women," he muttered.