#aphnorden

[kvietka]

Hey, thanks for the response! You listed Germany/Hungary, Russia/Hungary, America/Hungary, Lithuania/Belarus, Poland/Belarus, America/Canada.

No problem. Just take off America/Canada. Thanks!

[kvietka]

Hello! Regarding your app for the aph rairpair secret santa- you listed 6 pairings whereas the max is 5, so I was wondering which you'd be okay with removing? Also, you made no indication of if you have any character/pairing preferences for what you write or draw for someone, so I was wondering if you do have any? Thanks.

Hi. Could you tell what I put down for my pairings and I’ll remove one. And my only preference for what I draw/write is that I won’t draw Prussia. Thanks.

[aphnoruwei]

oKAY SO MAYBE IT WAS ME BUT REN REN REN IMAGINE THIS INSTEAD THEN imagine nor teaching hong how to do magic bc for fucks sake who trusts england with that shit nope BUT one day nor gets himself in trouble and so hong has to save him aND HURTS HIMSELF IN THE PROCESS INSTEAD

REI THIS IS AN INTERVENTION STOP SENDING ME THIS SHIT GODDAMIT

why must you do this to us

imagine ice being like ur both fucking stupid shits for getting hurt

[criswolfbeil]

Callout post to aphnorden for not being faithful to the John Cena meme

[legionofhetalians]

I'd like to put Norway on reserve, if that's alright? ^^

Norway is on reserve!

[aphsecretsanta]

Title: Enslig

Recipient: scythe-meister-erik

Pairing: Norway/Belarus

Prompt: Magic AU  mixed with head to head fighting/dueling

Warnings: None

Notes: Hi! I’m your backup santa. Sorry this was so late, I intended to do art initially, but I realized that wasn’t going to work out and switched to writing. And then stuff irl happened, making this even later. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Apologies for the awkward ending, since I had no idea how to end it.

Sigurd=Norway

Natalya= Belarus

  ——-

There wasn’t much Sigurd did for fun.

After all, when one was one of the most skilled sorcerers in the land, there was very little that could be found to be entertaining. Surely, if he wanted to, he could find a way to use his magic to amuse himself. But even that, eventually, would lose value and blend in with everything else meaningless in his life.

He didn’t bother keeping many acquaintances- he was far too wary, that if he was too trusting, he would only succeed in getting hurt. He has probably made more than plenty of enemies that way, but he doesn’t mind. All the sorcerer needed was his few acquaintances, apprentice, and family to keep him sane.

It was a lifestyle he could confidently say he was comfortable with.

Sure, it was a bit more lonesome than he’d like to admit, surely, but he chose to live that way. Besides, he could act well enough and say that the few companions he had were enough company for him, as introverted as he was.

It was easy enough to say that he didn’t really like much change from his normal routine. Sigurd liked taking comfort in knowing that each day would be similar, blurring together until he could not tell one day from the next.

So it was easy to say that he was initially unsettled when he met Natalya.

A challenger, she claimed herself to be, when he had opened up his front door and been met with a knife to his throat. Of course, it hadn’t taken much work to force her away from him long enough for them to have a civil conversation.

Because after all, if Natalya was to defeat one of the most powerful men in the land, she was determined to have a fair fight. He found her intentions to be rather amusing, but decided even if he hadn’t used his magic to fight in quite a while, there would be no harm in doing so. After all, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner his life could go back to its normal routine.

It was a fairly good fight, the sorcerer would acknowledge that much. The way she handled and used her knife was quite unique, and threw him off a bit at first. He could tell that her weapon was enchanted, almost familiarly so in a sense, and she used that to her advantage. But it did not mean he did not know how to counter that, even if it meant his usual magic would not prevail so easily. It was a fair fight, easily taking up a good chunk of the morning before a clear winner could be agreed upon.

It’d been a close fight, but eventually Sigurd had been able to get the upper hand by knocking the knife out of her grip and far enough away that she had not been able to grab it before he’d pinned her to the ground. It was a silent agreement, as he stared down at her, that she had lost, and acknowledged it with a small nod before pulling away.

Contrast to how ferocious and fervently she had been fighting just prior, Natalya had calmly got up, walking over to her knife, picking it up and polished it off briefly, before walking away. And that was that, he went back to his day as if it was normal, and didn’t expect anything else.

But of course, he should’ve known that life is not so simple as that, so when he finds a knife being held to his neck the next day, he is a little less than surprised as he fights her away like he had the previous day.

He isn’t surprised at all the following day, to open up the door and have to dodge to the side to avoid her knife. And within a matter of days, it becomes an unspoken routine for him to fight her in the mornings, before continuing on with his day.

Sigurd learns her strategy after the first few fights, and after that, it isn’t very difficult for him to win. Of course, he does not do so right away, to give her at least a little bit of a fight to feel like she was truly fighting him. However, he cannot stop himself one day, blurting out her mistake to her in the midst of their brawl.

“Your posture is all off. You can’t expect to win like that.”

Natalya pauses for a moment when she hears him, and her hesitance is long enough for him to knock her knife from her hand, and bring an end to their fight. Though instead of going to retrieve her knife, she is staring at him intently. He does his best not to flinch, staring back at her evenly, watching and waiting for her next actions.

After several moments, she leans down to pick up her knife, before returning to staring at him. “What did you mean by what you said?”

“Exactly what I said. Your posture holds you back. That is why no matter how close our fights are, you cannot win.” He says simply, ready to turn away and head back to home, but a simple phrase that she utters stops him from doing so.

“Show me.”

And despite having no real obligation to, and knowing the risks that might entail helping her, he does anyways. Helps her into position, and corrects every little mistake in her posture as they walk through some exercises.

This becomes their new routine for a while, and even he has to admit that he is impressed by how easily she catches on and improves. Though, Sigurd can only help her so much, since he doesn’t have too much expertise in using knifes, since his skill is in magic, but it makes all the difference in her skill nonetheless.

After a while, he starts to wonder why she keeps returning. After all, he had nothing else to offer to her except company, and occasionally being a sparring partner. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having her around- as much of a recluse he was, he did like having company, and he had acknowledged at some point he’d come to respect and admire her a bit more than just an acquaintance. And the sorcerer did not hesitate to voice this to her one day, as she helped him with organizing some potions.

“Why do you still come here, despite not getting anything from it?”

The potion she was holding almost dropped, though saved before it could hit the table. She didn’t answer him for several moments, and he continued organizing potions in silence while he waited for an answer.

“Because I can’t return home now.” She eventually had settled on saying, and did not seem to offer him any further clarification on that as they returned to organizing in silence. While he could tell it wasn’t the full story, Sigurd did not push for an answer. The subject isn’t brought up again till much later, and not by him, but by Natalya herself.

“…You know, when I first came here, I intended to kill you?” She spoke quietly, almost painfully, and Sigurd only nods to acknowledge that she was speaking, staying silent as she continued. “You were a threat to my family…. you defeated my brother, Ivan the Great.” The name is vaguely familiar to him, and he recalls with a bit of amusement that the man had offered one of his sisters to him if he stopped fighting him, an offer that he had turned down.

“My brother means a lot to me…. So I swore vengeance. That I’d defeat you to redeem our family’s honour. I decided that I would fight you to figure out your weaknesses, and then come back later to kill you. But then….” She trailed off, and after a few moments of silence, he prompts her to continue speaking, which she does with some reservations.

“But then I realized I started to like you…. I got too attached to you to want to kill you. So I stuck around, hoping to get to know you instead. Because I can’t go home as a failure.” She concluded, and he stayed quiet for a few moments before approaching her, wrapping his arms around her.

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly, and she does not question why, because she knows and understands very well. After all, she was the same way as well. So very lonely.

But not anymore.

[aphsecretsanta]

For @officialtycutio

Title: Of Frills and Lace

Rating: M

Paring: Spain/Norway

Warnings: Sex

Additional Notes: I don’t know how to write Spain really, but I hope you like the fill nonetheless. And crossdressing since that was the prompt I chose to go with uwu

——

Of all the things Spain expected to return home to, a seemingly empty, silent house was not one of them, considering not even an hour prior, his lover could be found cooking in the kitchen, baking delicious sweets that he could never quite remember the name of. He’d been asked to get groceries, and seeing that the room was empty, he quickly put them away before going deeper into the house to find the other.

“Noruega?” The Spaniard called for the other man, listening for any sort of noise that might indicate where he had gone, and decided to check their bedroom first. His guesses turned out to be correct, finding the blonde perched on the bed, clearly having been waiting for him to find him.

“Velkommen hjem, Spania.” Norway greets him, not moving from his spot, only gesturing for him with his hand. Yet, he did not move closer, frozen in the doorway in shock.

It wasn’t like he was ashamed of how turned on he was now, but rather quite curious at how he’d found out about this particular kink of his (then again, he wasn’t one to keep secrets, so he doubted the Norwegian had to do much asking around before finding out). Speaking of which, said nation seemed to be upset with the lack of attention he was getting, a pout tugging at his lips as he got up and sauntered over to him, hips swaying to emphasize how nicely the dress accented his features. It might have just been his imagination, but he was pretty sure he saw some lingerie being worn underneath the clothing.

“¿Pasa algo, España?” The nation’s voice had dropped to a more seductive tone, yet kept a innocent pout while speaking, and he had to fight back a shudder, not just because of his tone, but because he knew the other was aware of how much he liked the way his language sounded with his accent. “Don’t you like your present?”

“No, I do!” His response was much quicker and sounded higher pitched than he had intended, shaking his head quickly as to get rid of the stupor he was in. “I do like it, amor.” Spain insisted, taking a shaky breath as he looked down, the Norwegian’s arms wrapped around him and body pressed against him in all the right ways, and he almost wanted to just push him against the wall and pound him into the wall. But he had more self retrain than that, and let Norway take control of the situation, because he could tell by the look in those alluring eyes of his, he had something planned. Instead, he took a few moments to admire the dress itself and wondered if he’d be able to talk the Norwegian to wearing it again in the future.

The brunet let himself be tugged over to the bed, back hitting the soft mattress as the other climbed on top of him, deft fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, slowly removing the piece of clothing from his body. It was slow and each touch was teasing, but he knew that was how the quiet nation showed his affection, and to see how much it pleased him, he would let him do as he liked each time. It was like that for several moments before he pulled away to strip off the dress- which, while he would’ve liked to been able to tease his lover about the mess that would’ve been made on the dress, was glad it was put aside for future usage. Besides, it was enough of a treat to finally be able to see the lingerie he was wearing; a frilly top and lacy white panties that made his breath catch for a moment.

The Spaniard could feel the eyes on him, and he glanced up to meet the Norwegian’s gaze, smiling as he leaned up to meet his lips in a kiss that started out gentle, but quickly because more rough and passionate as their hips pushed and grinded against one another, a battle to see who would break their silence first.

It was several moments before Spain was able to coax any sort of noise from the blond, a small groan that had quickly melted into a loud moan. Within a matter of moments, there were hands at his belt, fumbling and muttered curses as Norway made a quick job out of removing his pants, which was instantly gratifying in its own way, since he hadn’t realized how tight his pants had felt prior to that moment. In a swift movement, he reached out to hook a finger on the panties and gently tugged them downwards, just enough so that his member was no longer restrained.

The Norwegian had taken the situation back into his hands after that, straddling his hips before pushing down onto him. Of all the ways to make love, one of his favorites was when he chose to ride him; he was able to easily see what the other was feeling, and the Spaniard knew that he liked being able to control the pace of their lovemaking.

It was fairly silent in the room after that, save for the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the ragged sounds of their breathing. Spain was the first to come, pushing his hips up into him, the blonde’s release following soon afterwards as it splattered over their bodies. The brunet carefully lifted the Scandinavian off of him, and onto the bed next to him, cuddling with him as he tugged the covers up around them.

“Gracias, Noruega.” He murmured sleepily, and seeing the small smile on the other’s face told him that he was not the only one who had enjoyed it.

While their love may not be perfect, he knew it was reciprocated in gestures like these. And that was really all Spain needed.

[lledxela]

You know what's deader than dead? Prussia.

wow