Title inspired by "One Week" (Barenaked Ladies)

As usual, thanks to Pidge the ever loyal fan~I don't see why I deserve such an honor, but it motivates me to write for you all, so thanks!

There's nothing much to say. Disclaimer, don't own, blah blah blah, review pelase, don't forget it's fem!Germany, blah blah blah, on with the story!


Sighing, Germany ran a hand through her long, blonde hair. Completely stressed out from training (which Italy had failed to show up to again), meetings, and constantly having to save him from the Allied Powers, she was ready to just drop dead and sleep for a few days.

She shuffled over to her bed and sat down heavily when she noticed…

Bright red bloodspots covered the blankets.

"Fuck." She cursed. To no one in particular, she shrieked, "You better not show your face, Italia, or I'll throw you out myself!" Storming off to the bathroom, she continued to mutter profanities along the way.

~!~!~!~!~!~

I think you all can guess what Germany is afflicted with…remember, she's fem!Germany. And she's really angry. Those steel toed boots will come in handy.

Now…DISCLAIMER TIEM~ *not that kind of disclaimer, this is a fanfiction site, so it should be obvious it's not mine*

I apologize in advance to those who speak German, because I'll be using some German sentences and phrases, and they will probably suck. So I'm sorry for any and all errors I make.

Oh, and Italian and Spanish, though those I know a tiny bit (remember, a very tiny bit) better…and I doubt they will be saying any complete sentences in their languages in this story anytime soon.

I love reviews, but if you're really busy like me, and you have an excuse, then just a favorite or story alert will make me feel better. Thanks for reading, anyway!

Peace, love, and pasta~ Cake-error out!