And I Will Call Him George

Oh, how Anya adored cute things.

Maybe her size, so big, the biggest in the world, made her appreciate all that was small, delicate, fragile. Oh so very breakable, to be handled with care.

But she never handled with care.

The Baltics.

Such cute little boys. Staring at her with wide, round, deliciously fearful eyes.

So adorable, and she couldn't help herself around her little Baltics. She had to hold them, squeeze them, crush them. And she adored them, oh yes, she did.

She just wished they didn't break so easily.

Then there was Matthew.

Sweet, sweet Matthew. So kind, so loveable. With the golden curls of an angel and eyes that you could gaze into forever and ever and ever.

Cute, cute little Matthew.

Hers. All hers. Completely hers. Only hers.

Hers to love.

Hers to hold.

Hers to squeezeand crush and tear and maim.

And how she adored her cute, little Matthew.

"Oh, sweet little Matvey~" Anya cooed to the bruised form on her bed. She smiled adoringly, leaning in close to brush some bangs out of the smaller nation's face. The only sound in the room was rasping breath torn from battered lungs, "tired already? But we were just getting started..."

She pouted, staring into glassy violet eyes, shining bright, not with life, but with unshed tears. Tears of pain.

His eyes closed.

His breathing slowed.

His body slumped.

For a while she only stared at the unconscious boy.

Then, she grinned.

An unsettling giggle bubbled forth from deep in her throat. She leaned in closer, kissing his bloodied lips before climbing into bed next to him, cuddling close.

"Sleep well, my darling~"

Oh, how Anya adored cute things.

She couldn't help but smother them.

A/N: This is the darkest thing I've ever written. Maybe I should stick to comedy…orz

Later, baybays!