Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (1a/4)
anonymous
June 17 2010, 02:18:59 UTC
Did someone order some GerIta fluff? You’re in luck, it’s the house specialty! Let’s see what we can whip up here…
Germany emerged from the hot, stuffy attic, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow and took a deep breath of fresh air. It had taken him four hours to straighten up that dark hole of dust and random junk, but he had finally finished the chore. Apparently there was still dust clinging to his clothes because the deep breath he’d taken was released with a sneeze. Germany rubbed his nose and wandered toward the kitchen, looking around for Italy. The two of them had agreed to get caught up on housework today (well, more like Germany had decided that they were going to do it and forced Italy to help). He was taking care of the attic while Italy worked on washing the dishes and countertops in the kitchen and doing the laundry. The kitchen was Italy-free and that put Germany on his guard, but at least it looked like he’d done his kitchen duty like he’d been told.
Germany considered calling for him but decided against it. He preferred to catch Italy red-handed in his slacking. The German man made a stop in their bedroom to change his clothes and wash his face in the attached bathroom. He noted as he passed it that the bed still had no sheets on it and sighed. Italy should have finished washing their bedding by now. The fact that the bed had yet to be made was just one more piece of evidence supporting the theory that Italy had given up on his chores halfway through. Of course this irritated him, but at least Italy had finished half of his work this time; that was actually pretty impressive for Italy.
The blond wiped the water from his face and made his way to the laundry room to see if Italy had at least started washing their bedding. He hesitated in surprise at the scene that greeted him. It appeared that Italy had just been taking the freshly washed sheets from the drier and putting them in the large wicker laundry basket to be brought into the bedroom when his internal clock had told him that he needed a siesta immediately. Italy was curled up in the large laundry basket on top of the clean sheets, fast asleep, a pillow case that he had presumably been in the process of transferring to the basket hanging halfway out of the drier.
Germany shook his head in exasperation but couldn’t help smiling. That was such an Italy-like thing to do. He crouched down at his lover’s side and brushed his bangs back affectionately before caressing his cheek softly. Italy turned his face toward Germany’s gentle touch, a tiny smile tugging at his sleeping lips. The taller man finished transferring the remaining bedding and picked up the basket with Italy still inside, carrying it into the bedroom. He lifted Italy out of the basket and set him in the armchair so that he could make the bed before allowing Italy to continue his nap in a more comfortable place.
Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (1b/4)
anonymous
June 17 2010, 02:20:33 UTC
As Germany pulled the fitted sheet down over the mattress, he briefly considered joining Italy in his siesta but realized that while he was certainly tired after cleaning the attic, he wasn’t really sleepy. Maybe he would stay at Italy’s side and read a book instead. Once he had finished putting the last pillow case in its proper place, Germany went to fetch Italy from the chair. He scooped Italy into his arms gently, cradling him against his chest like a child as he moved him to the bed. Just as he was setting Italy down in his spot, the smaller man stirred. His warm chocolate brown eyes fluttered open and fixed on Germany.
“Germany… did I fall asleep?” he asked dazedly, rubbing his eyes.
The taller man granted him a soft smile, taking Italy’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Hmph, right in the middle of taking the laundry out of the drier. Nothing gets between you and your siesta, does it?”
“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Italy said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I really tried to finish what Germany asked me to do.”
Germany kissed his lips tenderly. “Do I look mad?” If he would have been able to see his own expression at that moment, he would have blushed at how blatantly love-struck it was.
“Veee, then will Germany take a siesta with me?” Italy asked hopefully.
“I’m not sleepy, but I’ll stay with you,” Germany acquiesced.
Italy gave him a warm, sunny smile and Germany couldn’t resist kissing him again.
“I’ll be right back,” the German whispered in Italy’s ear as he covered him up. “I’m going to get something to read.”
Italy settled under the covers, waiting patiently for his lover’s return. Even though he didn’t look it, Germany was very talented at cuddling. He always held him so gently and stroked and kissed him until he fell asleep. Italy was susceptible to bad dreams at times, but being wrapped in his lover’s firm embrace kept them away better than a sleeping pill chased down with glass of warm milk and honey. And sometimes, when Germany was sure that Italy was asleep, he would sing to him softly. Germany wasn’t a confident singer; he didn’t have much knowledge of special techniques and he didn’t always hit the notes just right. To Italy, however, there were very few sweeter sounds in the world than Germany’s deep, shy voice serenading him. He eagerly awaited the day that Germany would feel comfortable enough with him to sing to him when he was aware that Italy was awake to listen.
Germany reentered the bedroom with a book in his hand and crawled into bed beside Italy. The smaller man snuggled up close to Germany’s muscular body, purring happily as his lover invited him to lie on top of him, his ear resting against his chest so that he could hear the soothing lullaby created by his heartbeat. Warm, strong arms curled around him protectively, and a series of kisses was nuzzled into his hair. Italy let out a little sigh of sheer relaxation, tilting his head up to return the kisses on Germany’s throat. His eyes slid closed as broad but gentle hands began to rub his back. “Goodnight, Germany,” Italy breathed as he drifted off. “I… love you…” Germany blushed slightly at Italy’s soft, sleepy declaration. He waited until Italy’s breathing had slowed and deepened before replying in an embarrassed mumble. “I… I love you, too, Italy.”
I’m planning a series of four small drabbles for this prompt, so stay tuned!
yay! adoring anon stalks you :P
anonymous
June 17 2010, 10:09:07 UTC
oh, you. oh, YOU.
*dies for so much fluff already*
this was so cute X3 i keep loving and loving your stuff SO much. it's so fluff and adorable and IC and it makes my heart swell with love :) your stuff is addicting like sugar ;)
the image of germany singing to a sleeping italy makes up for one of the sweetest mental images ever, i swear :) why so awesome, anon! *showers with confetti and adoration*
thank you for giving us so much gerita :) you're saving this pairing :D
Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (2a/4)
anonymous
June 18 2010, 09:36:25 UTC
Jeez, seems like whenever I post something here, everyone instantly knows it’s me. Why is that? Is my style really that distinctive? Or is it just because a lot of the same motifs keep popping up in my writing? Not complaining or anything; just curious.
Germany waited until he had come to a full stop at the red light before answering his ringing cell phone.
“Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt speaking.”
His cheeks went warm as his greeting was met with Italy’s melodic, honey-sweet laughter.
“Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt. This is Feliciano Vargas,” Italy crooned into the phone. “Veee, Germany always sounds so serious when you answer the phone.”
“I didn’t look at the caller ID,” Germany mumbled. “I thought it might have been someone from the office. Was there something you needed? The red light won’t last much longer and it’s dangerous to talk on the phone while driving.”
“Oh, so Germany’s on his way home, then?” Italy asked brightly. “Perfect timing! There’s going to be a meteor storm tonight and I thought we could watch it together! It’s supposed to start in about ten minutes so I just wanted to know when Germany would get here!”
Germany opened his mouth to say he’d pull into the garage in precisely five minutes and twenty-eight seconds, before a shaved ice stand in a nearby grocery store parking lot caught his eye. His mind was flooded with images of Italy’s delighted smile as Germany came home with a large serving of shaved ice for the two of them to share as they watched the stars. He recalculated his arrival time, factoring in the amount of time it would take to order, receive and pay for the frozen treat.
“I’ll be home in eight minutes and fifty three seconds,” he replied.
“Ok!” Italy sang. “I’ll be waiting for you on the back porch!”
“See you soon,” Germany promised, ending the call and switching on his turn signal before setting his course for the nearby shaved ice stand. ****
The blond opened the back door silently and stepped out onto the porch. Italy was waiting for him as promised, his back to Germany and his face turned toward the heavens. The pretty little Italian was dressed in a lightweight sky blue tank top and khaki shorts, leaving plenty of skin exposed. A little shiver of pleasure ran down Germany’s spine. He loved running his hands over that smooth, supple tan skin as he nibbled and kissed it. It was definitely high on Germany’s list of favorite physical features of Italy’s. That beautiful skin was calling to him. He approached Italy quietly, set the shaved ice aside and wrapped his arms around Italy’s waist and chest, savoring the sensation of Italy’s skin beneath his lips as he touched his first kiss to the little heart-shaped freckle on the back of Italy’s neck. Italy started slightly in surprise at his touch.
“Oh! Germany’s home!” Italy trilled. “Veee, you scared me!”
Germany kissed his lover’s lips tenderly, his own curling into a small smile. “Has it started yet?”
“Not yet,” Italy replied. “Germany has good timing; it should be starting in a few minutes!”
The taller man took a seat on the edge of the porch next to Italy, looping an arm around his waist. “I brought you something,” he said quietly, passing Italy the heaping bowl of strawberries-and-cream-flavored shaved ice.
“Yay! Shaved ice!” the Italian gasped, clapping his hands joyfully. “Waah, I’m so happy! Thank you, Germany!”
Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (2b/4)
anonymous
June 18 2010, 09:38:54 UTC
Germany smiled and kissed him again, his heart warming at Italy’s honest delight over a simple shaved ice. Italy hummed cheerfully as he took a bite of his treat, his eyes slipping closed in sheer enjoyment. He offered the next spoonful to Germany, who blushed ever so slightly as he allowed Italy to feed it to him. Italy took Germany’s arm and rested his cheek against his shoulder, prompting Germany to kiss the top of his head. The two of them sat in silence, side by side, sharing the shaved ice as they waited for the meteor storm to begin.
“I saw one!” Italy squealed suddenly, pointing up at the sky excitedly. “It’s starting, Germany! I saw a shooting star!”
Germany turned his eyes toward the night sky, silently amused by his boyfriend’s typical enthusiasm. Another meteor streaked by, closely followed by three or four more almost simultaneously. The Germany glanced down at his lover, leaning forward slightly so that he could see his eyes. They sparkled enchantingly with wonder, reflecting the shooting stars above. The sheer beauty of Italy’s rich chocolate-colored eyes twinkling like that made Germany’s heart clench. In his opinion, they, rather than the natural fireworks taking place above them, were the real attraction here.
“So many shooting stars,” Italy marveled quietly. “I bet everyone’s wishes are being granted tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Hmph, you can’t get everything you want just by wishing for it,” Germany replied in his usual no-nonsense manner. “It takes hard work and dedication.”
“But I got England sent home with a headache during the war by wishing on a star,” Italy reminded him. “Why don’t we just try it?"
The taller man sighed. He supposed it couldn’t hurt. “Ok, then.”
The Italian’s eyes slid closed as he made his wish. Germany mimicked him hesitantly.
I wish that Germany and I could stay together, happy and in love forever.
I wish that Italy and I could stay together, happy and in love forever.
The two of them opened their eyes and looked at each other.
“Veee, Germany’s face is all red,” Italy grinned. “I wish Germany could tell me what you wished for.”
“I-If I do that, it won’t come true,” Germany stammered. Of course, he didn’t really believe that; it was just a way of getting out of admitting his embarrassingly sappy wish to Italy.
“I know,” the smaller man said wistfully. “I made a happy wish for the two of us.”
Germany cleared his throat awkwardly. “…So did I.”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if we both wished for the same thing?” Italy asked with a bright smile. “If we both made the same wish at the same time, I’m sure it would come true.”
Germany hugged Italy close. “That would be nice,” he whispered softly into Italy’s silky hair.
still adoring anon here! (to second anon, we can share her awesomeness!)
anonymous
June 18 2010, 11:10:34 UTC
oh, anon. you. yeah, you, writer!anon.
why so cute, damn it, why so CUTE.
you have a familiar, fluff style. you write the links in the fill link list in the same way, and update by saying 'scroll down for update'. there are a few things recurring through your fics, too, some are very subtle, some are very clear, and it'd take the length of a full fill to explain to you what i see and why i adore you so, but all of this makes up for an awesome series of great fills to which i'm really addicted and can't but want more of
so, this chapter. oh, germany. the seconds. *shakes head* you count the seconds. italy, you're always SO cute, damn it. the shaved ice? what's shaved ice? that's something i never heard before. and ah, those two are so sweet my cavities hurt.
you have a way with them, they complement each other, and germany is not emotionlessly clamped and italy is not an idiot, and it is written always so perfectly that my heart aches every time in happiness. thank you wonderful anon, i mean it when i say your style and writing are far too good :D
I-if you're trying to flatter me, it... it's not gonna work dammit >///< except that it totally is. Thank you so much for your kind words. It really makes me want to keep writing :)
Didn't AuthorAnon know how many fans they have?
anonymous
June 18 2010, 13:08:47 UTC
...Personally, I just lurk mostly, but I have to comment on your update today...to tell you that we just kind of know it's you. Not that it's a bad thing; in fact, it's awesome to be able to recognize a filler who creates great fills! I wish I knew who you were, Anon, because you've given us all so much GerIta love and I know I want to repay you for it somehow.
Actually, I, ahem, mayormaynothavedeanonedwithafewofmyfillsonacertainLJcommafewweeksago.I'llgiveyouahint:itwasn'tinthemaincomm. Y-you guys, cut it out; I'll cry. I'm not a very confident person when it comes to anything I create so it's always such a pleasant surprise when someone says they've enjoyed something I've done. I'm a real comment whore so comments will be sufficient repayment :) Thank you so much for the encouragement!
I have to second the other comments ❤ Your style is really sweet and characteristic(?!) and you always write the characters in such a lovely way that each of your fills is a pleasure to read! (I have to admit that I faved this one without even reading it first XD)
... *knows who author-anon is* w-will you ever post all your fills in your journal? because this anon here would stalk it like crazy
captcha says 'admires secret' ö.ö well captcha wants to keep it a secret who author-anon is?
*wibbles* You really shouldn't praise me like that; my ego might start to exist. You're all too kind, really!
Hummm... I don't think it'll happen, unfortunately, me posting all my fills on my journal. Then I'd have to own up to that embarrassingly newbish smut fill I did last time and that crappy amorous!Germany fill and I don't think I have the guts for that ^^;
Re: Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (2b/4)
anonymous
June 19 2010, 16:46:46 UTC
Oh author-anon don't ever worry about being self-conscious on here. After all everyone who loves the Gerita couple loves you as well!
Thank you for continuing to supply my needs for my OTP. And in some instances it can be easy to tell who you are by your writing style being similar to the little details like that heart-shaped freckle on Italy's back. It was a dead giveaway from your Sandcastles fic~
So yes, please continue on your way knowing that you are very much loved. ^^
Four Seconds of Peace, GerIta (3a/4)
anonymous
June 20 2010, 02:59:34 UTC
When Germany climbed into bed next to Italy that evening, he was in a pretty good mood. The day had been pleasantly productive without being overly stressful, he had managed to make it home to Italy at a very reasonable time, and Italy had prepared them what was probably in the quality range of a perfect five-star gourmet Italian meal. Now Germany had had his shower and was all ready to take his pretty little lover into his arms and cuddle him close as they drifted off to sleep together.
Things were going well so far; Italy’s warm, contentedly purring body was curled up against him, brushing playful kisses to Germany’s throat. Germany was running his nails lightly up and down Italy’s bare back under his shirt, raising little goosebumps of pleasure wherever he touched. Italy’s kisses traveled leisurely up his neck, and danced teasingly around his lips for a moment before giving in and planting one squarely on Germany’s mouth.
“I love Germany so much,” Italy whispered against his lips before kissing them again.
“I… ahem, I feel the same about you,” Germany admitted, starting to blush before he could command himself not to do so.
“That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this,” the smaller man continued.
“Eh…?” was all Germany had time to get out before Italy shouted “TICKLE FIGHT!!”
His slender fingers attacked Germany’s tender ribs fiercely and unexpectedly. Germany just barely had enough self control to bite down on his own lip firmly to ensure that the ensuing bubble of laughter didn’t escape his mouth. “S-Stop it…! Wha-ha… What are you…?!”
“Germany better make a counter attack if he doesn’t want to lose!” Italy chirped. “Veee, I might actually beat Germany in something related to fighting!”
“D-don’t be…ri-hee-ridiculous! H-how is it e-hee-even p-possible… to win a tickle fight?!” Germany gasped. “Th-there’s no-ho way to… keep s-score or…”
“The first one to make the other one laugh wins!” Italy chirped. “I’ll be nice and not count those little tiny ones Germany did while he was talking!”
Germany was using so much energy and concentration not to burst out laughing to really even think about making launching a counterattack on Italy. He knew that if Italy’s hands just strayed a little lower that cursed spot just above his waist he’d be a goner. He knew that, but he was powerless to stop it. Germany made a desperate effort to push Italy off of him, intending to wrap the blankets firmly around himself and curl into a ball so that Italy couldn’t get him anymore but Italy was holding on tight. Allowing himself to laugh was out of the question; he couldn’t let Italy hear that sound.
He had no chance of getting out of this with his dignity intact, it seemed, unless he tickled Italy. That of course was risky; he would have to lift his arms, which were clamped firmly to his sides, and thereby expose his weak spot. Germany tried to calculate his likelihood of success but his brain was flustered by the tickling and wasn’t working properly. He decided to risk it, lifting his arms away from his ribs and making a grab for Italy’s. It seemed that he was too slow, however. The second his ribs were exposed, Italy attacked his weak spot mercilessly.
Germany emerged from the hot, stuffy attic, wiping the sheen of sweat from his brow and took a deep breath of fresh air. It had taken him four hours to straighten up that dark hole of dust and random junk, but he had finally finished the chore. Apparently there was still dust clinging to his clothes because the deep breath he’d taken was released with a sneeze. Germany rubbed his nose and wandered toward the kitchen, looking around for Italy. The two of them had agreed to get caught up on housework today (well, more like Germany had decided that they were going to do it and forced Italy to help). He was taking care of the attic while Italy worked on washing the dishes and countertops in the kitchen and doing the laundry. The kitchen was Italy-free and that put Germany on his guard, but at least it looked like he’d done his kitchen duty like he’d been told.
Germany considered calling for him but decided against it. He preferred to catch Italy red-handed in his slacking. The German man made a stop in their bedroom to change his clothes and wash his face in the attached bathroom. He noted as he passed it that the bed still had no sheets on it and sighed. Italy should have finished washing their bedding by now. The fact that the bed had yet to be made was just one more piece of evidence supporting the theory that Italy had given up on his chores halfway through. Of course this irritated him, but at least Italy had finished half of his work this time; that was actually pretty impressive for Italy.
The blond wiped the water from his face and made his way to the laundry room to see if Italy had at least started washing their bedding. He hesitated in surprise at the scene that greeted him. It appeared that Italy had just been taking the freshly washed sheets from the drier and putting them in the large wicker laundry basket to be brought into the bedroom when his internal clock had told him that he needed a siesta immediately. Italy was curled up in the large laundry basket on top of the clean sheets, fast asleep, a pillow case that he had presumably been in the process of transferring to the basket hanging halfway out of the drier.
Germany shook his head in exasperation but couldn’t help smiling. That was such an Italy-like thing to do. He crouched down at his lover’s side and brushed his bangs back affectionately before caressing his cheek softly. Italy turned his face toward Germany’s gentle touch, a tiny smile tugging at his sleeping lips. The taller man finished transferring the remaining bedding and picked up the basket with Italy still inside, carrying it into the bedroom. He lifted Italy out of the basket and set him in the armchair so that he could make the bed before allowing Italy to continue his nap in a more comfortable place.
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“Germany… did I fall asleep?” he asked dazedly, rubbing his eyes.
The taller man granted him a soft smile, taking Italy’s hand and kissing his knuckles. “Hmph, right in the middle of taking the laundry out of the drier. Nothing gets between you and your siesta, does it?”
“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad,” Italy said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I really tried to finish what Germany asked me to do.”
Germany kissed his lips tenderly. “Do I look mad?” If he would have been able to see his own expression at that moment, he would have blushed at how blatantly love-struck it was.
“Veee, then will Germany take a siesta with me?” Italy asked hopefully.
“I’m not sleepy, but I’ll stay with you,” Germany acquiesced.
Italy gave him a warm, sunny smile and Germany couldn’t resist kissing him again.
“I’ll be right back,” the German whispered in Italy’s ear as he covered him up. “I’m going to get something to read.”
Italy settled under the covers, waiting patiently for his lover’s return. Even though he didn’t look it, Germany was very talented at cuddling. He always held him so gently and stroked and kissed him until he fell asleep. Italy was susceptible to bad dreams at times, but being wrapped in his lover’s firm embrace kept them away better than a sleeping pill chased down with glass of warm milk and honey. And sometimes, when Germany was sure that Italy was asleep, he would sing to him softly. Germany wasn’t a confident singer; he didn’t have much knowledge of special techniques and he didn’t always hit the notes just right. To Italy, however, there were very few sweeter sounds in the world than Germany’s deep, shy voice serenading him. He eagerly awaited the day that Germany would feel comfortable enough with him to sing to him when he was aware that Italy was awake to listen.
Germany reentered the bedroom with a book in his hand and crawled into bed beside Italy. The smaller man snuggled up close to Germany’s muscular body, purring happily as his lover invited him to lie on top of him, his ear resting against his chest so that he could hear the soothing lullaby created by his heartbeat. Warm, strong arms curled around him protectively, and a series of kisses was nuzzled into his hair. Italy let out a little sigh of sheer relaxation, tilting his head up to return the kisses on Germany’s throat. His eyes slid closed as broad but gentle hands began to rub his back.
“Goodnight, Germany,” Italy breathed as he drifted off. “I… love you…”
Germany blushed slightly at Italy’s soft, sleepy declaration. He waited until Italy’s breathing had slowed and deepened before replying in an embarrassed mumble. “I… I love you, too, Italy.”
I’m planning a series of four small drabbles for this prompt, so stay tuned!
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*dies for so much fluff already*
this was so cute X3 i keep loving and loving your stuff SO much. it's so fluff and adorable and IC and it makes my heart swell with love :) your stuff is addicting like sugar ;)
the image of germany singing to a sleeping italy makes up for one of the sweetest mental images ever, i swear :) why so awesome, anon! *showers with confetti and adoration*
thank you for giving us so much gerita :) you're saving this pairing :D
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I honestly think my heart will burst every time I read one of your stories. I think you need to write some more. :3
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Germany waited until he had come to a full stop at the red light before answering his ringing cell phone.
“Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt speaking.”
His cheeks went warm as his greeting was met with Italy’s melodic, honey-sweet laughter.
“Hello, Ludwig Weillschmidt. This is Feliciano Vargas,” Italy crooned into the phone. “Veee, Germany always sounds so serious when you answer the phone.”
“I didn’t look at the caller ID,” Germany mumbled. “I thought it might have been someone from the office. Was there something you needed? The red light won’t last much longer and it’s dangerous to talk on the phone while driving.”
“Oh, so Germany’s on his way home, then?” Italy asked brightly. “Perfect timing! There’s going to be a meteor storm tonight and I thought we could watch it together! It’s supposed to start in about ten minutes so I just wanted to know when Germany would get here!”
Germany opened his mouth to say he’d pull into the garage in precisely five minutes and twenty-eight seconds, before a shaved ice stand in a nearby grocery store parking lot caught his eye. His mind was flooded with images of Italy’s delighted smile as Germany came home with a large serving of shaved ice for the two of them to share as they watched the stars. He recalculated his arrival time, factoring in the amount of time it would take to order, receive and pay for the frozen treat.
“I’ll be home in eight minutes and fifty three seconds,” he replied.
“Ok!” Italy sang. “I’ll be waiting for you on the back porch!”
“See you soon,” Germany promised, ending the call and switching on his turn signal before setting his course for the nearby shaved ice stand.
****
The blond opened the back door silently and stepped out onto the porch. Italy was waiting for him as promised, his back to Germany and his face turned toward the heavens. The pretty little Italian was dressed in a lightweight sky blue tank top and khaki shorts, leaving plenty of skin exposed. A little shiver of pleasure ran down Germany’s spine. He loved running his hands over that smooth, supple tan skin as he nibbled and kissed it. It was definitely high on Germany’s list of favorite physical features of Italy’s. That beautiful skin was calling to him. He approached Italy quietly, set the shaved ice aside and wrapped his arms around Italy’s waist and chest, savoring the sensation of Italy’s skin beneath his lips as he touched his first kiss to the little heart-shaped freckle on the back of Italy’s neck. Italy started slightly in surprise at his touch.
“Oh! Germany’s home!” Italy trilled. “Veee, you scared me!”
Germany kissed his lover’s lips tenderly, his own curling into a small smile. “Has it started yet?”
“Not yet,” Italy replied. “Germany has good timing; it should be starting in a few minutes!”
The taller man took a seat on the edge of the porch next to Italy, looping an arm around his waist. “I brought you something,” he said quietly, passing Italy the heaping bowl of strawberries-and-cream-flavored shaved ice.
“Yay! Shaved ice!” the Italian gasped, clapping his hands joyfully. “Waah, I’m so happy! Thank you, Germany!”
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“I saw one!” Italy squealed suddenly, pointing up at the sky excitedly. “It’s starting, Germany! I saw a shooting star!”
Germany turned his eyes toward the night sky, silently amused by his boyfriend’s typical enthusiasm. Another meteor streaked by, closely followed by three or four more almost simultaneously. The Germany glanced down at his lover, leaning forward slightly so that he could see his eyes. They sparkled enchantingly with wonder, reflecting the shooting stars above. The sheer beauty of Italy’s rich chocolate-colored eyes twinkling like that made Germany’s heart clench. In his opinion, they, rather than the natural fireworks taking place above them, were the real attraction here.
“So many shooting stars,” Italy marveled quietly. “I bet everyone’s wishes are being granted tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Hmph, you can’t get everything you want just by wishing for it,” Germany replied in his usual no-nonsense manner. “It takes hard work and dedication.”
“But I got England sent home with a headache during the war by wishing on a star,” Italy reminded him. “Why don’t we just try it?"
The taller man sighed. He supposed it couldn’t hurt. “Ok, then.”
The Italian’s eyes slid closed as he made his wish. Germany mimicked him hesitantly.
I wish that Germany and I could stay together, happy and in love forever.
I wish that Italy and I could stay together, happy and in love forever.
The two of them opened their eyes and looked at each other.
“Veee, Germany’s face is all red,” Italy grinned. “I wish Germany could tell me what you wished for.”
“I-If I do that, it won’t come true,” Germany stammered. Of course, he didn’t really believe that; it was just a way of getting out of admitting his embarrassingly sappy wish to Italy.
“I know,” the smaller man said wistfully. “I made a happy wish for the two of us.”
Germany cleared his throat awkwardly. “…So did I.”
“Wouldn’t it be funny if we both wished for the same thing?” Italy asked with a bright smile. “If we both made the same wish at the same time, I’m sure it would come true.”
Germany hugged Italy close. “That would be nice,” he whispered softly into Italy’s silky hair.
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why so cute, damn it, why so CUTE.
you have a familiar, fluff style. you write the links in the fill link list in the same way, and update by saying 'scroll down for update'. there are a few things recurring through your fics, too, some are very subtle, some are very clear, and it'd take the length of a full fill to explain to you what i see and why i adore you so, but all of this makes up for an awesome series of great fills to which i'm really addicted and can't but want more of
so, this chapter. oh, germany. the seconds. *shakes head* you count the seconds. italy, you're always SO cute, damn it. the shaved ice? what's shaved ice? that's something i never heard before. and ah, those two are so sweet my cavities hurt.
you have a way with them, they complement each other, and germany is not emotionlessly clamped and italy is not an idiot, and it is written always so perfectly that my heart aches every time in happiness. thank you wonderful anon, i mean it when i say your style and writing are far too good :D
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Eh? Never heard of shaved ice, you say? We have it in the US, and here in Japan where I'm writing from now so, I don't know, I just kind of figured it was a worldwide thing... Well, shaved ice (sometimes called a snow cone) is ice that's been ground up really fine, almost to the consistency of snow, and flavored with fruit syrup. It's a really yummy summer treat. Here's a picture-> http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/ShaveIce1.jpg&imgrefurl=http://whatscookingamerica.net/History/ShaveIce.htm&usg=__OWHhM-WrJFtRT63sRwSdDylQtsw=&h=350&w=432&sz=34&hl=en&start=3&itbs=1&tbnid=UXeY2q4WRTgjgM:&tbnh=102&tbnw=126&prev=/images%3Fq%3DShaved%2Bice%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26gbv%3D2%26tbs%3Disch:1
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Your style is really sweet and characteristic(?!)
and you always write the characters in such a lovely way that each of your fills is a pleasure to read!
(I have to admit that I faved this one without even reading it first XD)
... *knows who author-anon is* w-will you ever post all your fills in your journal?
because this anon here would stalk it like crazy
captcha says 'admires secret' ö.ö well captcha wants to keep it a secret who author-anon is?
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Hummm... I don't think it'll happen, unfortunately, me posting all my fills on my journal. Then I'd have to own up to that embarrassingly newbish smut fill I did last time and that crappy amorous!Germany fill and I don't think I have the guts for that ^^;
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Thank you for continuing to supply my needs for my OTP. And in some instances it can be easy to tell who you are by your writing style being similar to the little details like that heart-shaped freckle on Italy's back. It was a dead giveaway from your Sandcastles fic~
So yes, please continue on your way knowing that you are very much loved. ^^
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Things were going well so far; Italy’s warm, contentedly purring body was curled up against him, brushing playful kisses to Germany’s throat. Germany was running his nails lightly up and down Italy’s bare back under his shirt, raising little goosebumps of pleasure wherever he touched. Italy’s kisses traveled leisurely up his neck, and danced teasingly around his lips for a moment before giving in and planting one squarely on Germany’s mouth.
“I love Germany so much,” Italy whispered against his lips before kissing them again.
“I… ahem, I feel the same about you,” Germany admitted, starting to blush before he could command himself not to do so.
“That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this,” the smaller man continued.
“Eh…?” was all Germany had time to get out before Italy shouted “TICKLE FIGHT!!”
His slender fingers attacked Germany’s tender ribs fiercely and unexpectedly. Germany just barely had enough self control to bite down on his own lip firmly to ensure that the ensuing bubble of laughter didn’t escape his mouth. “S-Stop it…! Wha-ha… What are you…?!”
“Germany better make a counter attack if he doesn’t want to lose!” Italy chirped. “Veee, I might actually beat Germany in something related to fighting!”
“D-don’t be…ri-hee-ridiculous! H-how is it e-hee-even p-possible… to win a tickle fight?!” Germany gasped. “Th-there’s no-ho way to… keep s-score or…”
“The first one to make the other one laugh wins!” Italy chirped. “I’ll be nice and not count those little tiny ones Germany did while he was talking!”
Germany was using so much energy and concentration not to burst out laughing to really even think about making launching a counterattack on Italy. He knew that if Italy’s hands just strayed a little lower that cursed spot just above his waist he’d be a goner. He knew that, but he was powerless to stop it. Germany made a desperate effort to push Italy off of him, intending to wrap the blankets firmly around himself and curl into a ball so that Italy couldn’t get him anymore but Italy was holding on tight. Allowing himself to laugh was out of the question; he couldn’t let Italy hear that sound.
He had no chance of getting out of this with his dignity intact, it seemed, unless he tickled Italy. That of course was risky; he would have to lift his arms, which were clamped firmly to his sides, and thereby expose his weak spot. Germany tried to calculate his likelihood of success but his brain was flustered by the tickling and wasn’t working properly. He decided to risk it, lifting his arms away from his ribs and making a grab for Italy’s. It seemed that he was too slow, however. The second his ribs were exposed, Italy attacked his weak spot mercilessly.
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