Hetalia Seven Minutes in Heaven... Or Hell?

oh my word. what the fudge have i just written-- it was meant to be a Seven Minutes in Heaven lovey-dovey story and instead i've turned into something like Markiplier and his tiny box Tim in Amnesiaa- WTAFF.. i am so utterly confused right now. Ii started off nicely, the reader getting annoyed and saying, 'aint nobody got time for dat' and then next thing you now have a miserable peter pan turning up on the doorstep - i was originally going to have flying mint bunny come swoopin down to send you to this glorious ball but i was like meh - xDD
i have a feeling a series is going to come along - aint dat great c;; - so umm--
Ehem, sorry for my use of bad grammar and things but, help me, I am so confused right now I can't even write properly-- ;o;

Hetalia Seven Minutes in Heaven… or Hell? - Introduction

❝ I'm sorry, I don't think we've met...

Sighing heavily, you were relieved that the world conference meeting was finally over.

Thank the lord, you could go home and get a nice hot beverage before nipping to bed with a blanket hugged around you.

You were craving the taste of (name of hot beverage) on the edge of your tongue, and that delicious meal that you had cooked the other day, still lingering in the fridge as it was just waiting to be feasted upon by you.

God, if you kept this up you would start drooling.

But no, you had to act sophisticated, like you were listening, nonchalantly, which you weren’t. Even so, you were striving to do your best at the work that was handed out to you in neat, topping piles in front of you. Sure, it was an absolute hell to get through it all, but it wasn’t like it was all going to get done for you, you weren’t that rich or sluggish. All in all, you never wanted it to be that way, you just wanted it done and out of the way so you could go do what you liked, without deadlines being pinned onto your head with staples.

So you listened, yet still in a daze, just waiting for the clock to strike seven and to get the hell out of there.

Nobody was doing anything anyway, just mucking about and it was driving you insane.

There was poor Germany trying to shout out his opinions like a wild dog while Italy hung off his shoulders nibbling on pizza, Japan was causally talking to China about their toy products and how they could develop them further, France and Britain were fighting again, though there were no doubts about that happening, America was eating his McDonald’s while trying to equally sound as loud as Germany while Canada was almost out of the picture.  

It was all too much, honestly, where in the world could you find a nice, quiet place for yourself without this much noise?

You buried your face in your hands, ignoring the pokes you got from Sealand which were soon gone as you saw a hand snatch him away.

It was Sweden.

There he was carrying Peter on his back in a piggy-back style, while Finland cooed in his face as he reached out to grab him.

You weren’t surprised at all with the other Nordics, Norway silent sat with his arms crossed adjacent with his brother who looked like he was going to throw up at any time soon as Denmark held up his glass with a dreamy, crooked smile, most definitely drunk.