Hetalia & Other Reader Inserts

UndescribedMale x Trypanophobic!Reader

//Author's Note:

    Trypanophobia: The fear of needles.

    This is one of my greatest fears, and thus I accidentally made it longer and more intense than I had intended, probably because of my strong emotion. I feel like all the details are important, however, even if it makes it very long. Because of the details and intensity, please perhaps think twice about reading if you also have a fear of needles.
    The setting is the annual 6 month blood drawal medicine dosage check for those on medication for hypothyroid issues (like me!).

    The point of this is to show what trypanophobia is like to those without the phobia while also holding their attention and entertaining them.

    Iffy to not safe for trypanophobics to read.👎

    Intense emotion & details. Please think twice before reading if trypanophobic or easily affected by writings. ✋

End Author's Note//

    It was that time of the year. The time where you had to get your blood drawn to make sure your medicine was at the right dosage.
    "My medicine dosage is fine," you'd tell everyone. "There is no reason for this. It's fine."
    But no one listened. No one cared. You were forced to go every six months. No matter what, they made you go there and endure the most cruel torture any human could have come up with.
    You were naturally submissive. Any dominance and aggression you showed was just a way you dealt with your distrust and fear of others, to protect yourself. You barked way than you bit, threatening emptily. And thus for every visit you went willing yet against your will, unable to rebel against your mother, crying the entire way there, during the awful act, on your way back home and for the rest of the day.
    No one noticed your fears got worse after each drawal. No one noticed how sensitive you were to even the thought or the mention of the word needle, or anything that involved needles. And if anyone did notice, they didn't seem to care. You felt alone, unloved, betrayed whenever it came time for the drawal.
    And it was happening again. Tomorrow. You had to go in again.
    When will this torture ever end? you wondered. Maybe if I quit taking my medicine I can stop going.
    But you knew you'd never give up your medicine. It helped you function like a normal human being. It gave you the ability to focus, to think clearly and faster, and to remember things easier.
    No, you could never give it up. You needed it. You enjoyed not having to struggle to focus, not having a fog over your brain keeping you from being able to concentrate on anything or even think clearly, not having heart palpitations, and being able to remember things.
    But then you had a idea.

    "Thank you for letting me hang out for the day," you said to your boyfriend. "Would you mind if I spent the night?"
    "Anytime, and no," he replied, setting up Mario Kart. His phone began to ring, and he got up to answer it while you finished setting up the game for him.
    When he came back, he had a bit of a solemn expression on his face.
    "What's wrong?" you asked, concerned.
   "Where's your phone?" he asked instead of answering your question.
    "Ah, at home! I, uh, guess I forgot it..." Truth was, you left it. You didn't want your parents to ruin your small act of rebellion. You planned to stay at your boyfriend's until it would be too late to go to the drawal. It was the perfect plan.
    Your boyfriend nodded slowly. He seemed to not fully accept your answer, but didn't say anything about it.
    "Soooo... Who called?" you asked again as he sat down next to you on the floor.
    "Oh, just some salesperson. That was the eighth time this week, that's why I looked so upset." He began the game, and you grew excited. You were going to kick his butt.
    "Wow!" you said. "They're persitant."
    Your boyfriend did nothing but nod.