thatclaudefangirl

"Konnichiwa," Heracles smiled at Kiku standing in the doorway. The Japanese man looked surprised to see him, but pleased nonetheless. "Oh, konnichiwa Heracles-kun. What brings you here today?" The Grecian held up a small rectangular box and rattled it persuasively, "I brought Pocky." Kiku knew what this meant. He nodded, stepping aside, "Would you like to come in?" "Arigatou!" Heracles beamed and hurried in, kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly next to Kiku's. Kiku smiled; he had been practicing his Japanese, that much was evident. Kiku closed the door behind him, "Have you come to show off all of the new words you have learned?

Gilbert sat in the living room of his house, glancing up at the door every so often. He was waiting for Matthew, who was supposed to come visit him today, but he was ten minutes late. He couldn't help but be worried; Matthew was rarely ever late. Where was he? His cell phone began to ring, and he sighed, and looked at the caller ID, expecting it to be Matthew. He frowned when it read 'Elizabeta' on it. He flipped it open and answered it. "Hello?" "Gilbert..?" Elizabeta sounded uncertain. "What is it, Lizzy?" "I have... Some bad news." Gilbert frowned. "...What?" "...Matthew is in the hospital. He's very ill." Gilbert didn't say anything

This was silly. It really was, Japan thought, as he found his box of origami paper. He really wasn't the superstitious type, not really the sort of person to believe legends. However, this was different. It was just after World War II. During the war, he had lost contact -- and possibly friendship -- with many nations he had previously been close to. One in particular. Greece. Truthfully - and he'd only admit it to himself - he missed the cat-loving nation. He wanted to be able to sit in the field, like they did before the war. So Japan decided he would wish for it. A legend of his said that if you folded 999 paper cranes, made a wish on

It was a sunny day today, despite the fact it was February. Japan sat by his garden, staring at the Sakura trees, which were already beginning to bloom. It was natural for the flowers to bloom this soon in the subtropical islands of Okinawa. It was his birthday, so he wanted to stay somewhere where America wouldn't think to look. He'd probably try to look in Tokyo, Kyoto, or Osaka, since those are the places he usually resides in. America probably doesn't even know that these islands existed; even though almost everyone knew about these islands, America's not really smart enough to figure out that Japan was staying here, anyway. Well, not by

It was late one night, everyone in town asleep by now, save for a few people. Two of those people laid underneath their bed covers, slightly damp from their own sweat, the room dark. Prussia stared at the ceiling, his arms behind his head, a small smile visible. The smaller man, Canada, had his back turned to him, curled up into a ball. Prussia couldn't see his face, but he had a feeling the Canadian was blushing profusely. He rolled over onto his side, his hand supporting his head. "Hey, Canada?" Canada jumped, startled at the Prussian's voice. "Y-yes?" he stammered, not taking the chance to look at him. His eyes were wide, his teeth were

Germany x Italy – Halloween Germany could not find a conclusion, despite his best efforts. He could have been somewhere – anywhere – else at that moment, whether it be in his office filing documents or at his house eating wurst. And yet he was here, sitting on that same couch beside that same Italian, as usual, except that the Italian was wearing a Halloween costume this time – some wolf ears and a stripy t-shirt with a love heart on it. He had no idea why he was there though, and no idea why he was even questioning it. He sighed in frustration at himself for not relaxing and instead trying to work out every little minor

"Don't…!" The Italian cried. "I'm sorry, I don't have a choice." Ludwig said as he bent down to grab the handle of his bag. "You can't!" Feliciano pled, fresh tears blinding him. He reached out for the German in front of him and grasped onto his uniform, entangling his fingers in the fabric.  "You can't leave me! You can't!" he continued to cry Ludwig tightened his grip on his bag. He let out a shaky breath. Why did it have to be so hard? "I'm sorry, Italy." He said plainly, trying to keep himself calm. Ludwig continued walking but Feliciano's grip tightened, making it slightly harder for him to continue as if nothing was

…maybe… Maybe… It was cold enough that their breath mingled in the air, snow beginning to fall gently around them. Ludwig had told him to meet him at the café at seventeen-hours sharp. Of course he came running up to him two hours and thirty-six minutes late, panting like he had just ran a marathon. ……maybe… Maybe… The brunette struck him a sloppy salute, grinning that silly grin of his, chirping a carefree greeting at the blond. Which, he was promptly scolded for. …maybe…this isn’t so bad… Maybe I can… The scolding didn’t faze Feliciano. The grin never wavere

 "Germany~ Germany~ Will you hold my hand?" The man stared at the brunet next to him as if he had just uttered a declaration of World War III. "Hold your…hand?" "Mmhmm! Just until we get home, please~?" Big brown eye stared up at him expectantly, a surge of fidgets seemingly overtaking the Italian. "Please, please, please, please, Germany?" The pair stood outside one of the nicest Italian restaurants that could be found in Berlin (chosen on the Italian's request--he really could never get enough pasta), the sun setting on their Valentine's Day. Which, the German noted with a bit of relief, had been much more successful than the la

"Why doesn't Germany smile more?" There it was again. A silly question and two bright amber eyes focused on him from across the desk, the man nearly sprawled across his papers as he looked up at the German, the picture of impatient expectancy. "…smile more?" Germany continued flipping through the documents without missing a beat, used to the Italian's antics. When the blond didn't probe further, the Italian took it upon himself to walk around the desk and hop up to sit on the edge, still staring at the blond with a pout. "Ve, si! Germany is always frowning! Doesn't it hurt your face to be frowning all the time?" Italy titled his head,