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November 8, 2012
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Your Papa, Finland, picked you up and balanced you on his hip. "Well, sweetie, it's time for bed."


"Noooooo!" you whined.


"Come on, honey, you know that you have school tomorrow."


"But I'm not-"


"No 'but's', (f/n)."


You huffed indignantly. "Papa, I'm not tired!"


He smiled. "If you want, I'll even sing you a lullaby."


This made you brighten up immediately. You loved your Papa's soft voice, especially when he sang in Finnish. It carried clearly, but still remained quiet at the same time. The way he could hold a note was mesmerizing, and could make even the tensest person in the world relax.

Finland knew that he had you there. You loved hearing him sing, he knew it. When you were young, you would beg for ages for him to sing while he pretended to be thinking about it. Finland grinned at the memories.


"Really?" you asked breathlessly.


"Yes, really. Maybe I'll even sing you two if we leave right now."


You gasped. "Let's go, now!"


Your Papa laughed. He carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen, where Sweden sat at the table.


"Su-san, I'm taking (f/n) up to bed."


Sweden glanced up from his IKEA catalogue. "Mmhmm. G'd n'ght, h'ney."


With that, Finland carried you upstairs to your room. He tucked you in under the thick comforter and sat at the edge of the bed.


"Lennä, lennä leppäkerttu
ison kiven juureen,
siellä on sun äitis, isäs,
keittää sulle puuroo."
1


Repeating this a few times, he looked over at you. You were obviously tired, but were holding onto consciousness for the second lullaby that he promised you. Finland was surprised. You were usually out like a light within the first two times he repeated the song. He racked his brain for the other one you had loved as a child.


"Körö körö kirkkoon,
papin muorin penkkiin
mustalla ruunalla,
valkealla varsalla
peltojen ylitse,
aitojen alitse,
kilikello kaulassa
punaisessa nauhassa
pom, pom, pom."
2


And, finishing that last song, you were asleep faster than lightning could appear in the sky.


"Minä rakastan sinua 3 , (f/n)."
Well, here's my Papa!Finland fic. I've already done Papa!Russia, and that made me realize how much I love lullabies. So, I'm thinking that I'm gonna make a series of oneshots with Papa! or Mama! Countries singing lullabies in their native tounge.

1- Fly, fly ladybug,
Into the foot of the big stone,
There are your mommy and daddy,
Boiling porridge for you.

2- Ride, ride to the church
To the priest's wife's pew
With a black horse
With a white colt
Over the fields
Under the fences
Jingling bell on the neck
In a red ribbon
Clink, clink, clink.

3- I love you

If the translations are incorrect, please tell me.

Comments are appreciated, but not necessary.

Hetalia is not mine.
Neither are Finland or Sweden.
I don't own you.
But I DO own the story.
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:iconpuppypancake:
Awesomeness! You should do papa Sweden just for the heck of it!
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:icondearbealovedquietcan:
cutest story ever and i love Su-san's reaction~
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:iconresistance33:
I love Su-san so much~
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:iconishadowstari:
IShadowstarI Jan 2, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Best. finland. story. ever.
Reply
:iconresistance33:
Thank you! I appreciate it!
Reply
:iconishadowstari:
IShadowstarI Jan 2, 2013  Student Digital Artist
OuO it shall forever be my favorite Finland story!
Reply
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