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|NorMona Aesthetic|

#aph norway #aph monaco #normona #aph aesthetic #aesthetic

Lost

The NorMona tag is dead and I have to keep it alive myself. Bl Set in around 1806 - when Denmark-Norway allied together with France during the Napoleonic wars. One take on how Nor and Mona potentially first met. ____________________________

France was looking mighty pleased with himself – which wasn't that strange, but Monaco felt bored enough to actually ask what had him in a good mood today regardless. If nothing else she could at least nod along to his chattering.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked as she held out her wine glass so he could fill it up for her.

“Did your commissioned painting of England falling flat on his face come today or?”

“Oh no. Something much better!” France grinned with delight. “I have some new allies!”

“Oh?” Monaco tried to hide her surprise, but her raised eyebrows gave her away a little too easily. “Who?” “Denmark,” France grinned. “Well, Denmark-Norway I suppose I should say. They're a package deal these days,”

“You... volunteered to go look for me, didn't you?” Monaco was trying hard not to smile too much at him. “Maybe,” Norway said with a shrug. “Because you didn't want to listen to them either?” “Maybe,” “A bad sense of direction...” Monaco scoffed. “Anyone will know that's a lie. Aren't you a really skilled navigator?” “To be fair, inside you can't see any stars,” Norway said with a completely serious face as he pointed to the ceiling. That was the last straw. Monaco couldn't stop herself from laughing. She tried to keep her laughter muffled with her hands, but one glance at Norway and she sent herself in hysterics. Norway didn't laugh – but once she stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath he flashed her a smile. A warm one. Monaco wasn't sure if it had been real and without thinking she placed her hand on his face. “You're... you're not that scary when you smile,” she whispered in slight bafflement. Norway's eyes went wide and he recoiled away from her as if her touch had just burned him. Monaco stared wide eyed at him as he attempted to hide his face in his hands. 'Oh my god. He's blushing!' Monaco wanted to scream. “What is it with you French and personal space?” Norway asked with a muffled voice. “I don't know. You sat down here first, you tell me,” Monaco huffed. “Right. I'll take the blame for that one,” Norway sighed, appearing to finally have composed himself enough to lower his hands from his face – although Monaco could still see a hint of colour across his cheeks. “So you didn't come to drag me back as much as you came to hide yourself?” she asked and smiled mischievously at him. “Denmark and France have probably forgotten we were both supposed to be there too by now,” Norway grimaced. “They can talk anyone's ears off,” “Silence is rather rare to come by around here I admit,” Monaco sighed and curled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and looking wishfully at the books in front of her as if they would magically grant her a door to some far away place. “There's no escaping all these social things these days. It's meeting after meeting after meeting. I get so bored of them... don't you?” she turned her head and looked at Norway. “I was supposed to tend to my farm,” Norway grumbled. “Go fishing. Brew beer. But no. I had to come along and be diplomatic. I hate talking to people,” “We're talking,” Monaco interjected softly. “This is... different,” Norway sighed. “One person is fine. Besides. I have no voice in any matter any more. Might as well be dead,” he held his hand up towards the ceiling. “I'll probably disappear soon at this rate...” “Don't say that,” Monaco hissed. “I don't plan to disappear, so neither should you!” She frowned and punched his shoulder as hard as she could, which didn't do anything to Norway beside surprise him ever so slightly. Monaco looked at her hand and frowned even more. “Ow,” she whispered. “What are you made of? Stone?” “Probably,” Norway sniggered. “And ice,” he added with a slight smile. “Well that's just rude,” “You punched me,” Norway snorted. “I think that's more rude,” “And it did nothing to you! Couldn't you at least pretend it hurt?” “Ah yes, let me lie down and pretend you beat me,” Norway rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you will feel so much better if I fake an injury for a grand total of one second,” “You are such an ass,” Monaco hissed. “Oh no. What will you do? Punch me again?” Norway mocked with a smile. “Shut up,” Monaco glared her best glare. “I'll make you blush again!” “Nah, I'm over it,” Norway laughed, and Monaco was sure her heart stopped for a moment. 'How dare he have such a pleasant laugh?!' “Really?” Monaco smiled smugly as she carefully edged closer to Norway. “I think I can still make you blush...” she teased. “Oh?” Norway said, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Yes,” Monaco giggled and leant in to kiss him. Norway froze the moment her lips touched his. He was completely and utterly frozen. Monaco slowly pulled away and revelled in the deep shade of red his face had turned. 'This... this was a fun game indeed' she thought. Finally she could have some fun while France went about his stupid war-business. “Made you blush,” she proclaimed rather proudly and smiled sweetly at him. “Fine. You win this round,” Norway mumbled, clearly trying to once more regain his composure. If she had known it was this easy to knock a former Viking off his perch she'd have done it years ago. “Come along. Let's get lost a bit more together,” Monaco laughed and stood up, dusting off her dress. “What?” “Your horrible sense of direction without any visible stars,” Monaco elaborated. “You'll get hopelessly lost. So lost you might lose you way into my bedroom...”

#normona #aph norway #aph monaco #aph denmark #aph france #coffee's fics #hetalia #canon verse #if no one else will sail this ship with me then I'll fucking sail it on my own like the rare pair shipper I am

Falling Like Music (9)

Because I missed this AU like burning. (also self indulgent because I’ve had the weekend from hell shifts) [CH 8] _______

“I'm going to start asking you to sing me to sleep too,” Erik whispered to her as she closed the bedroom door softly behind her. “Not happening unless you bribe me with wine,” she teased. “Damn, what will cookies and milk get me?” “A kiss,” Cécile smiled and stood on her tip-toes, kissing his lips softly. _______

Erik stood outside in the hallways, patiently waiting as Cécile snuck back out of Halldór's room. “I'm going to start asking you to sing me to sleep too,” Erik whispered to her as she closed the bedroom door softly behind her. “Not happening unless you bribe me with wine,” she teased. “Damn, what will cookies and milk get me?” “A kiss,” Cécile smiled and stood on her tip-toes, kissing his lips softly. “Fair deal,” Erik muttered and gently placed his hands on her hips. Cécile giggled as he leant closer and accidentally showered her in some flour. “We both need a bath too,” she sniggered softly as she watched Erik blush. “Or a shower,” Erik mumbled. “What's easiest to do together?” Cécile asked and smiled up at him with a wicked grin. “Shower,” Erik managed to utter almost without stuttering. “Mhm, I thought so too,” Cécile licked her lips and dragged him with her to the bathroom, taking care to lock the door behind them. Erik looked as if he struggled with the sheer concept of undressing, standing frozen in place as Cécile removed her own clothes. “This isn't a strip show just for you, you know,” she reminded him. “N-no, of course not,” Erik stammered, trying to undo undo his trousers with shaky hands. It was almost cute to see him so nervous, and Cécile momentarily pondered just showering alone. However, she abandoned that idea once Erik actually got all his own clothes off and stepped into the shower behind her. “How did he get flour down your back?” Erik muttered in disbelief. “Kids are magic in their own special way,” Cécile giggled and carefully undid her braid, letting her long hair flow down her back. She could almost sense Erik's hesitancy to come closer, almost shying away from her and the hot water. “I think I'll need help washing all this flour out of my hair,” she said and turned to smile a him, pleased to see his cheeks red and eyes fixated on his own feet. Good lord, a grown man should not be that cute, she thought to herself. “Come here,” she beckoned and pulled him towards her, laughing as the water hit him in the face for a moment. “You're too short,” he mumbled. “You're too tall,” she teased back and guided his hands to her hips. “But then again, you're the perfect height to help wash my hair... I can't do much to yours though,” she hummed. “No need,” Erik chuckled, hair soaking wet as he leant down to kiss her. Cécile welcomed the kiss, enjoying the sensation of his warm body against hers and the warm water and steam around them both. “Seriously,” Erik muttered as they pulled apart. “We're both going to have glue in our hair if we don't wash it...” “Way to ruin the moment,” Cécile huffed before leaning against his chest, sighing contently as he began to massage shampoo into her hair. “Never mind, just keep going,” she whispered. “You're going to smell like me,” Erik mumbled. “So like sea kelp, pine and coffee?” Cécile inquired and hummed. “The coffee scent comes later,” Erik replied. “I've not found a shampoo or soap that smells like proper coffee yet,” “Stick to the sea and forest ones then,” Cécile rubbed her hands over his back and smiled. “Suits you,” she added and settled for keeping her hands on his ass. “Sorry I don't have any other soaps...” he mumbled in return. “I don't mind. I like smelling like you,” Cécile hummed happily. “I wasn't planning on showing tonight, but here we are...” “Ah.. yes,” Erik swallowed nervously as Cécile pressed her chest up against his and smiled up at him. “You're allowed to touch me,” she whispered, watching as Erik appeared to mull her words over in his mind for a moment. “Can't be too loud,” Erik said as he lifted her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. “I can be very quiet,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as the water began to turn a little more lukewarm. “Don't doubt it,” Erik smiled and kissed her softly. “But your lips are turning blue...” “Okay, it's getting a bit cold here,” Cécile admitted in defeat. “I don't have your cold resistance...” “I'll warm you up,” Erik whispered, his voice contributing to her shivers more than the cooling water. She was more than happy to be wrapped up in towels, and even more so that he took his time helping dry and braid her hair. They tried to be quiet as they tip-toed to his bedroom, slipping under the cool covers that soon became more than warm enough. Cécile didn't want to sleep until she'd thoroughly explored all parts of his body, and Erik seemed to have the same thing in mind about her – kissing her from the neck and down till she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning his name too loudly. He definitively kept his promise of keeping her warm. Her cold shivers faded into shivers of pleasure as she let his hands and mouth wander over her body. Truth be told she feared Halldór would wake up at any moment and wander in to find them horizontally dancing in Erik's bed. However, when she voiced her fear out loud; the only sympathy she got from Erik was laughter.

#aph norway #aph monaco #aph iceland #normona #hetalia #coffee's fics #aph ballet!au

Could you write a genderbent!NorMona teacher AU fic?

you didn’t really specify who was gonna be their nyotalia counterpart??? ... so I went for nyo!Norway/Mona... hope that’s what you mean/wanted. if not. TOO BAD! :D

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“Youlook positively dead to this world,” Cécile giggled, trying tohide her smile behind her own hand.“Hu?” Solveig repliedgroggily and sat up, a piece of paper momentarily sticking to hercheek before felling off and back down onto the messy desk.“Isaid, you look tired,” Cécile sighed.“Oh. Yes.Probably,” Solveig blinked and reached for her coffee mug, taking asip and grimacing as the taste of cold, bitter and stale coffee hither tongue. “Urgh...”“How long have you been here?”Cécile asked worriedly, making her way over to the desk, leaningcarefully against it and surveying the stacks of paperwork.“Uh,”Solveig blinked a few more times, glanced at her watch and squintedat it. “What day is it?”“Thursday my dear,” Cécilesighed.

“And thesleeping beauty awakes!” Cécile laughed. “You look much betternow.”“Not sure I feel better,” Solveig grumbled andrubbed her head.“Coffee will surely fix that,” Cécilesaid and gestured to the mugs. “How long was I out?”Solveig asked, taking a long sip – sighing in delighted at thewonderful taste of warm coffee.“Three hours.”“Shit,”Solveig grimaced. “I have so many more thesis’s tocheck...”“When exactly is the deadline for them to behanded in and graded by?”“Oh, in two moths,” Solveigcounted on her fingers and bit her lip. “Give or take a fewdays.”“What?!” Cécile gaped. “Why are youoverworking yourself so early on?”“It's the first drafts.I want them all to pass, so I'm not fully grading them, I'm checkingthem for mistakes and offering inputs. If it was merely grading itwould be easier,” Solveig shrugged. “Also I don't grade them atthe end. That's Ludwig's job.”“...I can't believe you,”Cécile sighed. “For someone who's got a reputation for being thegrumpiest lecturer you sure don't really live up to it.”“Notmy fault some dick in the administration board put almost all myclasses on the first thing in the morning,” Solveig grumbled andcrossed her arms.“Well if you hadn't gotten into anargument with Arthur you'd probably be getting to choose a bit morefreely when your lectures would be.”“Arthur's a dick andI'm not apologising for using him as an example for what beetlepheromones can do when applied to a human,” Solveig frowned. “Hehad it coming.”“Sure he did,” Cécile leaned over thedesk and placed a warm hand on Solveig's arm. “Lets talk aboutnicer things, shall we?”“Like what?”“Like howutterly angelic you look while you sleep!” Cécile clapped herhands together in glee. “I had to draw you. Look!”Cécilegrinned from ear to ear as she pulled out her sketchbook, revealing asketch of Solveig sleeping.“I...I... what the fuck?”Solveig blinked.“I think I captured your likeness prettygood, but obviously I had to make some changes,” Cécile flippedthe page and presented the next drawing. “You looked so pretty Ifigured you could be a fairy princes. So I drew your ears a littlemore pointed. I also wanted to add wings, but in the position youwere sleeping in that wouldn't work, so...”“All right,hold up,” Solveig snatched the book from Cécile's hands, flippingthrough the pages – eyes widening for each new picture of herselfshe found.“How many times did you draw me?”“Notenough. You make such a perfect model,” Cécile sighed dreamily.“I'll keep that in mind next time I'm short on money,”Solveig rolled her eyes.“I'd be honouredto have you as a life model.”“You couldn't afford me,”Solveig snorted.“Don't say that,” Cécilechuckled.“Keep dreaming. I'm not posing nude for a bunch ofyour students.”“Of course not,” Cécile smiled.“They're not worthy of seeing you either. I was talking about me,and me alone.”“Come again...?” Solveig blinked.“Justsaying, I'd be much happier to have you all on my own,” Cécilewinked and Solveig's cheeks flared red.“I..I...uh. I reallygot to get back to grading those papers,” Solveig swallowed andstood up abruptly, topping the chair over in her haste.“Ofcourse,” Cécile giggled. “Can't keep your students waiting foranother hour can you?”“No.. No I can't,” Solveig's facehardened as he combed her hair with her fingers and strengthened herdishevelled shirt a little.“Well, drop by my office againif you need a nap and a good cup of coffee,” Cécile smiledsweetly.“Thank you... I will,” Solveig gave a little nodat Cécile before turning around – making it two steps out of theoffice before pausing.“Forget something?” Cécileinquired with a coy smile.“Yes,” Solveig smirked inreturn and bent down, pulling Cécile into a kiss before she couldfathom what was going on.“Now we're even.” She said andwinked. “A little 'Thank's' for the 'bed' and coffee.”“Oh.....”Cécile's face lit up like a lantern. “Oh. My.. god,”she whispered as she watched Solveig disappear down thehallway.Cécile closed the door to her office as soon asSolveig was out of sight, sinking into her own chair and pouringherself a cup of tea – hands shaking as she tried to drinkit.That hadn’t gone quite according to plan.But by god– it certainly hadn't gone the wrong way!

#aph norway #aph monaco #nyo!norway #normona #nyo!normona #hetalia #coffee's fics #kirakari #replies

Falling Like Music (8)

Shhh. I needed fluffy NorMona so an update it is.

[Ch 7] ____________________ “It smells delicious,” Cecilé flashed him a smile as he hung up her jacket for her. “If they taste anything near as good as they smell you might be in the wrong profession.” “Lesson number 5 you learn as a parent: cookies are great bribery,” Erik chuckled. ____________________

Erik greeted her in the doorway wearing a purple apron with the words 'Obey and kiss the cook' embroidered onto it alongside some skulls and flowers. The invitation was far too good to pass up, so Cecilé pulled him down for a quick kiss before he could even invite her inside. “Oh wow, hello to you too,” Erik mumbled, trying to keep his blush under control while he ushered her inside. “It smells delicious,” Cecilé flashed him a smile as he hung up her jacket for her. “If they taste anything near as good as they smell you might be in the wrong profession.” “Lesson number 5 you learn as a parent: cookies are great bribery,” Erik chuckled. “I'll keep that in mind.” Cecilé laughed and dusted some flour off his apron. “Cécile!” Halldór cried in excitement and ran right into her legs, hugging her tightly. “What a welcome committee!” Cécile laughed as she lifted Halldór up, lamenting the flour and dough stains he added to her clothes for just a brief moment. Halldór was sporting a matching purple apron, with the words 'I make the rules' and with what Cécile gathered had to be trolls embroidered onto his. “Dad's tying to put raisins in all the cookies, you have to stop him!” Halldór said worriedly. “Raisins?” Cécile turned and gave Erik a look of disgust. “That is a culinary no-no,” “You're siding with him?” Erik frowned. “I'm siding with good taste, something you clearly don't have,” Cécile stuck her tongue out at him. “Does that include my taste in women?” Erik raised an eyebrow and Cécile gaped. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You are awful,” she added – cheeks red – she'd walked right into that one. “I can't tell who's supposed to be more offended about that. Natalia or me...” she muttered. “I'll give here a call and ask her later,” Erik laughed and leant in to kiss her cheek. “You don't deserve kisses!” Halldór huffed and pushed Erik's face away from Cécile before he could get too close. “Keep that up or you're getting nothing but raisin cookies for a month,” Erik warned. “That is an awful punishment Erik,” Cécile laughed. “You can't do that to your own son!” “Fine. A week,” Erik grumbled and crossed his arms. “He's being mean!” Halldór whimpered and Cécile could see Halldór was just as much in on the joke as Erik was. Father and son were frighteningly similar at times. “Yes he is,” she agreed and patted Halldór's head affectionately. “I'll punish him accordingly later,” she reassured him, winking at Erik when Halldór didn't see. “With chains?” Halldór asked gravely. “Yes,” Cécile replied, trying to ignore the fact that Erik was now grinning like a fool at her. “Right okay, fine,” Erik sighed. “Chocolate chip cookies it is...” “Yay!” Halldór threw his hands in the air and giggled. “Democracy wins once more,” Cécile smiled. “That was nothing short of bribery,” Erik retorted coolly. “Shush you,” Cécile waved him off after setting Halldór down on the floor and watching the little boy run straight for the kitchen. “We saved you from a bad decision,” “But I like raisins in cookies...” Erik mumbled. “Then we make a small batch of nasty cookies for you, and Halldór and I will eat the tasty ones, perfect plan or what?” “Sure,” Erik snorted. “Excellent,” Cécile hummed and headed for the kitchen, trying not to laugh at the mess of flour and dough that met her. Poor Erik. His nice and pristine kitchen would not recover from this for a good week. “You'd think his pale hair was white enough,” Erik sighed. “But no, he has to go and shower himself and the kitchen in flour,” “He looks like a little snow child,” Cécile giggled. “That's not necessarily a step up from his usual troll-child self,” Erik frowned. “He's going to be dragging flour all around the house at this rate,” “I'll help you contain and clean it up,” Cécile reassured him. “Oh, that reminds me,” Erik lowered his voice. “Uh, about that family dinner invitation...” “Hm?” “You don't have to attend if you don't want to...” Erik said. “Don't you want me there?” “What? No! I mean...” Erik bit his lip. “It's just.. my brothers can be a bit, intense,” he sighed. “You're talking to the woman with French and Italian family members,” Cécile laughed. “Did your brother get you lost in the woods or take bets on who could break the most bones in one year?” Erik looked at her questionably. “Uh...” Cécile paused. “No... Francis mostly used me as a doll to dress up...” “Well, Preben and Björn still have the bet going,” Erik frowned. “Who's in the lead?” Cécile asked and smiled. “Preben actually,” Erik replied and rolled his eyes. “Fell of his bike in January and broke his collar bone, left arm and five ribs, so he's now two fractures over Björn's total tally.” “They sound delightful,” Cécile laughed softly. “So don't worry,” she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I promise not to run away,” “But if they make you uncomfortable in any way, you tell me and I'll give them both more fractures to add to their list,” “My hero,” Cécile smiled brightly. “But honestly, I'm looking forward to meeting them. But I might in retaliation drag you along to a family dinner with my side,” “Do I have to wear a suit?” “Yes,” “Urgh. Fair enough,” Erik sighed. “Just because you work from home doesn't mean you should always walk around in jeans and woolly jumpers,” Cécile stifled a laugh and tugged at his apron. “Although you should wear this more often. You suit it,” “With more or less clothes underneath?” Erik asked coyly. “Once your son goes to bed...well, then I think you should wear only the apron,” Cécile smirked. “Remind me to lock the bedroom door then,” Erik whispered in return. Cécile tried to stop her ever-growing smile, but failed when Halldór tugged at her skirt and begged her to help him find the chocolate chips. “We're trying to be healthy,” Erik muttered, but his words fell on deaf ears. “Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate cookies for us all,” Halldór and Cécile singsonged and grinned at him. “You are both getting nothing but salad for the next week!” Erik grumbled and crossed his arms, trying to glare but looking anything but frightening in his apron. “Little dancers need chocolate to live,” Cécile winked at him as she helped Halldór pour a bag of chocolate chips into the cookie batter. “Well if that's the case then tired fathers need coffee,” Erik grumbled. “Excellent idea,” Cécile smiled. “Visiting girlfriends won't mind some either,” “Yeah, yeah,” Erik waved lazily. “I'll get to it,” “You've got him well trained,” Cécile whispered to Halldór – just loud enough for Erik to hear. “Who? Mt. Puffin?” Halldór looked at her questioningly as he pointed to his stuffed toy that was covered in flour. “Mhm. Him too,” Cécile giggled. “Mr. Puffin made it snow,” Halldór explained. “Did he now?” Cécile glanced at Erik, who muttered something about kids and flour bags being a bad combination. “Yes. Like this,” Halldór grabbed a handful of flour and tossed in the air before Cécile could stop him – giggling as it rained down over them both. Cécile frowned, glad she wasn't wearing anything dry-clean only as Halldór proceeded to do it again. She should know better, but thanked Erik as he handed her a spare apron. “Death before Decaf?” Cécile read the text and glanced at Erik. “Gift from my brothers, before Natalia made us these ones,” Erik smiled and pointed to the purple aprons he and Halldór were wearing. “How fitting...” Cécile snickered and tied it around her waist, knowing it wouldn't be long until Halldór found another way to cover her clothes in flour. By the time the cookies were in the oven and Erik had made them coffee, both her and Erik sported hair almost as white as Halldór's. The whole kitchen appeared to have had a snow storm rush through it, and while Erik tried to sweep and hoover it all up, Cécile got tasked with trying to contain Halldór's flour-covered body within the kitchen. “Ah, ah, ah!” she tutted at Halldór when he tried run past her. “You're going nowhere but the bathtub looking like that,” “I need to hoover him too,” Erik laughed and watched at Halldór's struggling just covered Cécile in more flour, the apron to real use to her any more. “Hoover us all,” Cécile scoffed and tried to shake some of it off her long braid. “I can barely see anything! My glasses are covered too!” “Stand still,” Erik commanded and brushed them both over, pausing to wipe Cécile's glasses very carefully for her before placing them back on her face – smiling fondly at her. “Thank you,” Cécile sighed. “Snow!” Halldór laughed happily. “It's off to the bath with you,” Erik laughed once he'd gotten most of the flour off himself as well. “You need to be hosed down a little.” “Cécile is going to bathe too?” Halldór asked and smiled hopefully. “No,” Cécile shook her head and hoped neither of them noticed her blushing. “Cécile can shower once you're all done hogging the bathtub,” Erik explained. “But you bathe with me... why not Cécile?” Halldór pouted. “Because, uh,” Erik cleared his throat. “Cécile isn't very fond of...” he trailed of and glanced at Cécile for help. “I'm not too fond of sharing baths,” Cécile lied. “But if I don't bring any toys in the bath?” Halldór asked and looked a little upset. “Then your rubber duck and boats will be very sad,” Erik replied. “Oh... Okay,” Halldór sighed dramatically. “Can you sing me a good night song then?” he asked Cécile. “Yes, of course,” Cécile smiled and kissed his forehead. Halldór smiled brightly at that, and didn't fuss about having to be scrubbed clean of flour and cookie dough at all. There was no need to dress nicely around a child, because no matter what she wore Halldór would find a way to ruin it. First with food and then with water. He eagerly wanted to show her his collection of toy boats, and halfway through an elaborate story about how the miniature race-boat and cruise-ship were actually a modern Viking ship Halldór demonstrated the 'Viking' ships immense 'powers' by throwing them into the air – giggling as it splashed the both of them as the toys hit the water. “You knew this would happen,” Cécile shot Erik a nasty look – but Erik just laughed, standing safely in the doorway as Halldór proceeded to splash more water over Cécile. Erik had to help her dry Halldór – because he kept trying to slip away and run naked down the hallway. “Troll-children don't get cookies,” Erik warned, and Cécile could only laugh at how quickly Halldór turned and let himself be both dried and changed into pyjamas. Three cookies and a glass of milk after the bath was all the bribery he needed before he almost skipped off to bed with Cécile in tow. “What lullaby would you like?” she asked him. “Any!” Halldór giggled and wriggled happily under the covers. Cécile hummed thoughtfully for a moment before settling for one her own mother had sung to her – hoping Halldór didn't mind being sung to in French. To her delight he appeared to love it – if falling asleep with a smile on his face counted as love. Cécile decided to interpret it as such anyway. A happy Halldór was a good Halldór after all. ___________ [Ch 8]

#aph norway #aph monaco #aph iceland #normona #normon #hetalia #coffee's fics #aph ballet!au

NorMona with coffee?

“Cream and Sugar?” she asks, turning slightly towards Norway who’s gazing out through her kitchen window and down at the busy street below.“Just black,” he replies, eyes fixated on something down on ground level that she can’t see.“Sure you don’t want anything to make it less bitter?” Monaco asks as he places the mug down for him, receiving a little nod and a mile in thanks.“No,” Norway replied softly and cups his hands around the mug. “I’ve got enough sweetness right here to make up for it,”Monaco pauses, blinks and then tried her best to hide her smile.“That was an awful pick up line,” she remarks, trying to not giggle - because then he’ll just keep the bad puns coming.“Well it made you smile, so it can’t have been that bad,” Norway flashes her a grin before taking a sip of his coffee and Monaco knows she’s lost this battle before it even began.“Next time I’m just going to give you coffee with sugar and cream and then you can just sit here and think about your choices,” she huffs.“That’s fine. My general bitter attitude to live will cancel it out,”“Ohmygod,” Monaco whispers and struggles to hold her composure. “I hate you,” she adds with a sigh.“I know,” Norway laughs and shoves the little plate of cookies he brought with him towards her. “But you said that last time too, and here we are.”“I mean it this time.” Monaco warns sternly, but she snags a cookie from the plate none the less.And then another.And another.“Sure,” Norway replies bemused and Monaco knows it’s a futile battle now.“Just you wait, I’ll get you back for this,” she mumbles into her cup of coffee, trying to plot out a suitable revenge.“I look forward to that then,” Norway remarks and sips his coffee with a smug smile that Monaco can’t quite bring herself to hate.

#aph norway #aph monaco #normona #normon #hetalia #coffee's fics #Anonymous #replies

NorMona meet the family for both sides. Human!AU

I’ve been home all day with a cold/flu - so I’m for the quality. I’ve got a fever and everything…Ahhh, my weakness. NorMona_________________________________

“There’s nothing to be scared off,” Cécile reassured him softly as he carefully tied the tie. “None of my family members bench-press cars.”“That was once, maybe twice, and it was just car parts,” Erik replied with a snort.“A ten year old could beat most of my family in an arm wrestling competition. You’ve got nothing to fear,” she laughed softly as she fastened the tie pin before kissing his cheek.

_________________________________

“What should I wear?”Erik asked, standing the the doorway to the bathroom with nothing butjeans on as he held out a bright red and green sweater and a palepurple shirt.“Anything that’s not neon or knitted,”Cécile replied as she applied her mascara, barely giving him asecond glance.“Why not?” Erik asked and turned to look atthe contents in his side of the wardrobe. “What about mysweater-vests?”“Because as much as I love you, they’reall hideous. And no. No sweater-vests either. You’re 28, not 88,”Cécile sighed, but her coy smile revealed she found it all a littleamusing.“Fiiiiine,” Erik said and shuffled back to thewardrobe to find something else to wear.“And don’t wearmismatching socks either,” Cécile called.“Fuck,” sheheard him reply and she knew that meant he probably didn’t ownmatching socks at all. Cécile sighed and continued gettingready.She doubted his side of the family would actually carehow she looked, not judging by how Erik dressed himself at least. Butshe wanted to make a good impression none the less.She’dbriefly met Erik’s younger brother, and he had a habit of stealingErik’s sweaters. Erik’s two older brothers she hadn’t met yet, onlyheard them on the phone and seen pictures off them. They looked likethey lifted trees up from the ground for fun and truth be told shewas mostly worried about what they’d do to her when they realised shewas likely half their height. Erik’s standing at 182 cm was more thanenough for her to deal with.So far Erik had avoided meetinganyone from her family – a feat in itself as her brother kepttrying to meet him by coming for unannounced visits. Françoi wouldhave succeeded if it wasn’t for Erik’s shift work at the hospital andmagical ability to suddenly have important plans he just hadto attend mere minutes before Françoisarrived.This time hecouldn’t hide.Not even if he decided to fake anillness.“Nervous?” she asked him as she watched him tryto tie his tie.“No,” Erik lied as he undid the failedknot for the 17th time. “Not at all,” he added with afrown.“Sit,” Cécile commanded and pointed to thebed.Erik did so with a heavy sigh, letting his tie just hangloose around his neck.“There’s nothing to be scared off,”Cécile reassured him softly as he carefully tied the tie. “None ofmy family members bench-press cars.”“That was once,maybe twice, andit was just car parts,” Erik replied with a snort.“A tenyear old could beat most of my family in an arm wrestlingcompetition. You’ve got nothing to fear,” she laughed softly as shefastened the tie pin before kissing his cheek.“Still…”Erik muttered. “I want them to like me…”“Well thatgoes for both of us,” Cécile smiled softly.“Who wouldn’tlike you though?” Erik said with a smirk. “Oh I don’tknow… a bunch of guys who think a weekend should be spent up amountain battling nature instead of at a fancy restaurant?”“Atleast your idea of ‘relaxing’ doesn’t result in broken bones,” Eriktried to hide a smile.“Don’t you guy keep tally of who’sbroken the most bones?”“Yeah. Preben’s in the lead afterhe broke several bones in his foot last month,” Erik smirked. “Bestsurgery I’ve attended in a while.”“See!” Cécilelaughed. “My family should be scared of you, not the other wayaround.”“Hrm,” Erik made a non-committal grunt andshrugged.“Come on. I’ll let you have a drink before theyarrive if you promise not to mention how many severed limbs you’veheld in the past year.”“Deal,” Erik smiled wickedly.He did visibly relax a little after she handed him a beer (ina glass. He wasn’t allowed to drink it out of can when theywere going to have guests). For herself she settled for somesparkling wine – just so she could offer the guests some too andnot look like she had plans to drink it all herself.The firstone to arrive was François– to none one’s surprise. Cécilesuspected he’d been hiding around the corner just waiting till it wasclose enough to six o'clock to ring the bell.“Erik!” Hegreeted with such enthusiasm Erik almost dropped his beer. “I’veheard so much about you and now I get to see you! My, my, myyyy,”he winked at Erik and Cécile wasn’t sure she pitied Erik or found ithilarious. “No wonder she’s tried to hide you, you could be amodel.”“Thanks…?” Erik replied a little uncertain,and Cécile nudged him a little with her elbow.“Don’t beshy. You have mirrors in this house, right? Surely you must see yourown beauty?!”“Ehhh… I tend to look at her actually,”Erik said flatly and gestured to Cécile. Françoisblinked andthen laughed so hard he had to lean against a wall forsupport.“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he said between fitsof laughter. “You can keep her.”“I am not yours to begiven or kept,” Cécile reminded him coolly, but Françoisjustcasually waved her comment off.Françoisinsisted Erik show himthe flat, which he politely agreed to do – leaving Cécile to greetErik’s older brothers.They didn’t bother ringing the bell.They knocked once and let themselves in with little care.“Ohhello! You must be Cécile!” one of them greeted. “I’m Preben,”he said as he shook her hand. “That’s Björn,” he pointed to theother slightly taller tank of a man and Cécile mustered a politecurtsey for them both.“Nice to meet you,” Björn mumbled.“Where’s Erik?” Preben asked and looked around thehallway.“Being grilled about his entire life story by mybrother,” Cécile replied and pointed them in the direction of theliving room. “You might need to rescue him.”“Oh man. Ihope he’s drunk for this if not he’s gonna go into that story abouthow he had to remove a steering wheel from someone’s stomach,”Preben chuckled.“What’s for dinner?” Björn asked asPreben went to find Erik and François. “Do you need any help withit?”“Oh no, thank you for the offer, but I think we haveit all under control.” Cécile smiled softly up at the giant man.“Mhm,” Björn nodded. “Webrought cakes,” he added and handed her a Tupperwarecontainer.Cécile couldn’t help looking both surprised andstartled as she opened the container to find several cupcakes –each individually and beautifully decorated with different types oficing.“Is…that Erik and my face on two cupcakes?” sheasked and Björn nodded – a hint of a blush on his face. “Sorryif it doesn’t look like you…” he mumbled. “No, no,”she smiled up at him. “They all look wonderful!”“Thanks,”he replied somewhat shyly. “I like baking…” he added with a shrug.“Don’t all of you do? I keep finding Erik bakingbread in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep.”“Yeah,”Björn shrugged. “But Preben and I tend to bake at lessinconvenient times.” “Noted, glad I found the weirdestone out of all four of you,” Cécile laughed and led Björn to thekitchen – offering him a drink which he declined. “Designateddriver tonight,” he explained.“Soda then?” sheasked.“Water is fine,” he replied and tried to give afriendly smile – or at least Cécile assumed that was hisintention. Erik had warned her Björn tended to not really get hisexpressions to match his intentions.Françoisand Preben seemedto hit it off right away – much to Erik’s relief, because he couldescape the Frenchman’s grasp and hide with Cécile until hisyounger brother and Björn’s boyfriend Timo arrived – followedshortly by Cécile’s cousins Feliciano, Lovino andVeronique.Despite her initial fear that they’d all tear downthe flat – the biggest problem was who’s glass to fill upfirst.Feliciano and Veronique took it all in stride – whileLovino was visibly uncomfortable standing next to Björn and Cécileended up having to rescue him and move him towards the much lessscary looking Timo and Halldór.Veronique also had to bereminded to talk and not touch Erik’s family members too much – amemo she completely disregarded when it came to Halldór. The pooryoung man eventually gave up trying to get away and just let herlatch on to him.“Well, dinner was a success and no one haskilled anyone yet,” Erik whispered to Cécile as they made coffeeand prepared dessert.“Are you surprised?” she asked andsmiled.“A little. I’ve been close to punching your brothera few times tonight to be honest.”“Don’t worry, so haveI,” Cécile giggled and handed him some cups. “But they all likeyou.”“They all love you,” Erik retorted and gave hercheek a quick peck. “Hard not to, isn’t it?” she winkedat him.“Very hard,” Erik chuckled. “I keep trying tonot love you but it just isn’t working,”“You ass,”Cécile sighed and poked a sharp nail into his side. “It ispretty nice, isn’t it?” Erik turned his head and tried to get agood look at his own backside. “Your brother said so too.”“Ohmy god,” Cécile groaned. “I’m going to kill him.”“Betteryou than me,” Erik smirked.“Just tell me if he touchesit,” she replied coolly and placed her hand in Erik’s back pocket.“Your ass belongs to me,” she gave his as a little affectionatesqueeze and smirked.“I don’t remember seeing your name onit,”“That can be fixed tonight,” she smiled knowinglyand Erik made a half-hearted attempt to stifle his laughter.“Sothat’s what the black sharpie in your bedside table is for.”“Yes.Labelling all of your body parts so people know you’remine.”“Couldn’t you have just done that this morning so Icould have avoided your brothers inability to give anyone personalspace?”“Where’s the fun in that?” Cécile laughed asshe poured the coffee into an antique silver coffee pot. “You knowno one from the south of Europe have any sense of personalspace.”“Well aware of it,” Erik grumbled. “So nexttime he’s getting a scalpel in his spleen…”“Now, now.Don’t be so hasty. I’ll make it all up to you,” Cécile smiled upat him and gave him a wink.“Just let me get some coffee andcake and I might consider us even,” Erik said as he balanced allthe cups and saucers in his hands.“We’ll see,” Cécilesmirked and gave his ass another little squeeze before picking up thecoffee pot and joining their guests in the living room.“Cheater,”Erik mumbled and followed after her. He briefly pondered sneaking hishand up her shirt in full view of her family – but disregarded theidea when Françoisvery loudly asked her how he performed inbed.“Better than you most likely,” he repliednonchalantly and he was positive Françoishad never been so insultedin his life.“You can not beat a Frenchman,”Françoissaid with a frown. “Maybe. But I don’t reallyintend to find out,” Erik shrugged.“If you two continuethis conversation this coffee goes over both your heads,” Cécilewarned and Françoisheld his hands up and apologised profusely inFrench to her.His brothers were trying very hard not tolaugh and Erik gave up ignoring them. He chucked a sofa pillowstraight a Preben, smirking as it hit him square in the nose.“Youbetter remember who of us in this room knows all the surgeons…”Erik said darkly.“Yeah, yeah. You’re still younger than us.It’s our right to pick on you!” Preben laughed.“You’reonly a year older than me,” Erik reminded him. “Halldór is thebaby in this family.”“Am not!” Halldór protestedrather loudly, clutching his cup of coffee and giving his bestglare.“You are,” Veronique said and Halldór lookedutterly dejected.“Who wants cake?” Cécile asked, hopingto defuse the situation.“Me,” came the chorus of everyoneand she sighed in relief.So far no one had beat up anyone elseand she aimed to keep it that way.Even after some cognac andaquavit there were no further quarrels – expert Preben and Françoisgetting into a heated argument about pastry; which ended in a betthat they’d both make the best pastries for the next familydinner.“That was fun,” Cécile said as her cousins wavedher goodbye.“Fun?” Erik crossed his arms and leantagainst the door-frame of the living-room. “Really?”“Noone died,” Cécile giggled.“True…” Erik nodded. “Veryexhausting…” he added and yawned.“Sleepy already?”Cécile stepped closer and loosened his tie. “And here I was goingto make your ass mine tonight.”“Oh?” Erik’s eyebrowsrose a little in surprise and didn’t mind at all when she yanked himdown for a kiss.“Still too tired?” she asked with a coysmile.

#aph norway #aph monaco #normona #aph denmark #aph france #aph sweden #aph iceland #APH Seychelles #aph italy #coffee's fics #Anonymous #replies #does some not so subtle hints to some hetameds au too

Pink Champagne and Leather

I went for metal norway... I’m not a fan of him being a punk. I can’t see it fitting him as much as I think the metal scene would ______________

“Oh...” Cécile uttered, gaze wandering back to his sleeve tattoos – she really wanted to know the story behind some of them (if there was any story behind them). “And the piercings?” she asked.

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She let out a small sigh of relief and hurried after her brother. Best to keep away from people who dressed like they spoke to daemons she thought, glad to be beside her brother once more as he handed her some champagne before dragging her over to some people “she just had to meet.” Cécile did try to enjoy herself – but as the night went on the only thing she really enjoyed was the champagne. Far too many people had asked her what use she could have with a dance degree, and far too many people had stopped listening every time she tried to explain. Disheartened and not feeling like drinking with people who seemed to love art but disliked artists, Cécile slipped outside the hotel for some fresh air. Across the road she could hear the music coming from the bar – deep bass lines and a dark growling voice. It didn't sound very pleasant, but the grand hotel had looked ever so inviting and turned out to be the complete opposite. With a slight determination in her step, Cécile ran across the road and peered inside the bar through the open doors. She wasn't sure what the other bar-goers were doing could be categorised as dancing – head banging and running in circles wasn’t really her idea of dance – but they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot. She didn't dare go inside, choosing to remain outside and peer inside through the doorway. “You'll catch a cold standing out here,” a deep voice spoke and Cécile jumped from fright, spinning around – her face almost colliding into the man's chest. “I'm fine,” she insisted, trying to keep the fear in her voice away. “Really?” the man asked. “That dress doesn't look very warm...” “Left my coat in the hotel,” she retorted and wrapped her arms around herself. She stuck out like a sore thumb in this bar filled with people in leather and black. Her pink dress was impossible to ignore in the sea of dark colours. “Here,” the man said and peeled off his own leather jacket, handing it over to her without another word. Cécile stared at it for a moment before slowly taking it from his hands, momentarily worried he'd rip it away and laugh at her. But he did no such thing, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for her to put the jacket on. “Want to join?” he asked her, gesturing to the inside of the bar and the sea of people still running in circles. “It's very loud...” Cécile whispered in return. “Ah,” the man nodded knowingly. “Got that covered,” he said and pointed to one of the pockets in his leather jacket. “There's some ear-plugs in there.” “Oh?” Cécile wasn't sure she believed it, but as she stuck her hand into the pocket it turned out he was right. “Use those,” he said and flashed her a brief smile. “Thank you...” Cécile said softly, putting them in before following him inside, tiptoeing as if she was scared her entering would somehow make everyone turn on her. The band on the small stage shouted that they were going to be taking a break, and the people who had been 'dancing' started fanning out towards the sides of the venue or milling around the bar. Cécile felt trapped in a sea of tall people all looking like they'd happily commit a crime five times over. Everyone was wearing something with leather or spikes – and so far she hadn't seen anyone who didn't have a tattoo or piercings. She froze as a tall guy pushed past her, muttering a dark 'sorry' before continuing towards the stage. Cécile felt lost, she looked around frantically but didn't know where to go. “Wrong way,” the blond man from before said and reached for her hand, pulling her towards the bar – pushing others away so she could actually move. “What would you like?” he asked as they reached the bar. Cécile blinked, still tipsy and filled with courage from her numerous glasses of champagne. “I don't need anything...” she said, eyeing the bottles of liquor lining the wall behind the bar. “You sure?” the man said. “Not even a whisky?” “I prefer cognac,” Cécile said truthfully. “One beer and one cognac,” the man said to the bartender before Cécile could protest. She debated running out right now, but there were so many people and she was about half the height of everyone around her. Most people didn't even see her, if she wanted to get out she'd have to crawl – and that idea didn't sound nice at all. “Here,” the man said and handed her a small glass of cognac. “Thank you,” Cécile replied, sniffing the contents and taking a hesitant sip of the golden liquid. Much to her joy it certainly tasted like the real stuff. “Come on,” the man took her free hand and guided her away from the bar, shooing some intimidating looking men away from a bar table and stool in the corner. “You can sit here. That way you can actually see the stage,” the man explained. Cécile looked at the bar stool and sighed. Whoever invented these things had never thought that some people were too short to reach up to them without a stepping stool. The man seemed to sense her dismay, because he grabbed her gently by the waist and lifted her up with ease. “Ah!” Cécile exclaimed, heart beating a little too fast. “Whops. Sorry,” the man laughed. “You're up now.” “Yes... thank you,” Cécile replied, trying not too stare too much at his tattoos. She crossed her legs and glanced out over the mass of people, feeling a little less out of place now that the man's leather jacket covered the top half of her dress. The venue was a lot bigger than she'd originally thought – even if the stage was rather small, they made good use of the space. “What's your name?” she asked the man, clutching her drink for protection. For some reason the cool glass in her hand made her feel a little safer. “Erik,” the man replied and held his hand out for her to shake. “Cécile,” she replied and shook it, glad to actually have a name to call him by now – instead of tall and scary. “Do you come here often?” she asked him after taking a sip of her drink, blushing as she realised how awfully like a pick-up line that had sounded. “Eh,” Erik shrugged. “Mostly just in weekends. There's only live music every second Friday though, so I try to make these nights when I can. Music is always best live.” “Mhm,” Cécile nodded in agreement, even if the music in this place was probably far from her tastes. She watched him take a swig of his beer, most men had rather long hair – and she so far was convinced at least 80% of the people in here dyed their hair black too. Erik on the other hand still had short blond hair. At least it made him slightly easier to spot should she loose him in the crowd. “What do you do?” she asked as she saw the band begin to prepare the stage again. “Hm?” Erik turned to her, eyebrow raised as he looked at her questioningly. “Do you work?” she asked again. “Oh, yeah,” Erik nodded. “I'm a finance advisor.” Cécile almost chocked on her drink. “What?” “Don't look it now do I?” Erik chuckled. “No.. you don't,” Cécile coughed. “You'd be surprised how easy it is to cover tattoos up with a long sleeved shirt and a nice suit.” “Oh...” Cécile uttered, gaze wandering back to his sleeve tattoos – she really wanted to know the story behind some of them (if there was any story behind them). “And the piercings?” she asked. “These?” Erik pointed to the ones in his ears. “I just take them out,” he explained, removing one earring for effect and handing it to her. “Most people don't notice the holes anyway,” he shrugged. Cécile turned the earning around in her hands, it was pretty plain but still nice. “Not many business men wear earrings,” she commented. “Probably more than you think,” Erik laughed. “But few have one of these,” he said and stuck his tongue out, showing off a tongue piercing. “Ohh...” Cécile gasped. “It that a...skull?” she asked, afraid to lean too close but also dying to get a better look. “Mhm,” Erik nodded before closing his mouth. “I don't always take that one out,” he added. “Doesn't it feel weird?” Cécile asked, imaging it must feel awful to have something stuck in your tongue. “At first, yeah, but that you get used to it,” Erik explained. “Worst part is that I often hit it against the back of my teeth.” “I see...” Cécile lied, her mind wandering into thoughts of what it would feel like if she kissed someone with a tongue piercing. “What do you do?” he asked her, snapping her out of her daydreams. “I'm a dancer,” she replied a little hesitantly. “Dancer?” Erik echoed. “Wow. What kind of dance do you do?” Cécile blinked – that wasn't the reaction or question she had expected. “Mostly ballet, but I've done some more modern dances too...” “Oh wow. That's really cool,” Erik said, smiling genuinely. “I'm afraid in comparison we don't really do anything very impressive,” he laughed and motioned the the sea of people who were gearing themselves up for the music. “I think you guys maybe dance very...aggressively,” she whispered. “Well yeah, but that's half the fun. It's pretty safe actually. If someone falls, you pick them up. If someone tries to get out of the mosh pit: let them,” Erik explained. “At most you leave with some bruises.” “I'll just stay here if that's okay,” she said softly, clutching her drink and wondering if she should slip out when the music started. “Of course,” Erik hummed, draining the remains of his beer and placing the empty glass on the table. “But I'm going to go a few rounds.” “Okay...” she replied, watching him strip his t-shirt off and flinging in into her lap before he pushed his way towards the stage. Cécile stared wide eyed as the band screamed at the crowd to get ready – and the crown responded with what could only be some form of battle cry. She was equally parts fascinated and terrified.

“That was actually fun,” she admitted as they stood outside the bar. Francis was probably looking for her and she figured she should probably start making her way home. “Good,” Erik replied. “Maybe you can come back next Friday? It will be a bit more quiet then,” he added. “Oh... yes,” Cécile replied. “Sure. That would be nice,” she said truthfully, actually looking forward to it. “Don't forget your jacket,” she said and shrugged it off her shoulders and handed it back. “Hrm,” Erik made a slight grimace, rummaging through the pockets and retrieving some keys and a phone. “Keep it till next Friday,” he said. “But you'll freeze,” she commented worriedly. “Hardly, I'm boiling,” Erik chuckled and ruffled his almost soaking wet hair. “Mosh pits are like a full work out.” “I can see that...” Cécile whispered, hoping it hadn't been to obvious she'd been admiring his body throughout the entire night. She bit her lip as she put the jacket back on, already rather fond of the heavy and warm material. It smelt like beer, coffee, sweat and cologne; but she didn’t mind. It kept her warm and safe in a way. “I'll try to wear something darker next time,” she laughed and tried to smooth some stray hairs down from her braid. “I felt people were staring at me...” “Nah,” Erik made a half-hearted attempt at a shrug. “No one really cares. Pink suits you,” he added. “Thank you,” Cécile stammered forward, blushing a little. “Black is a good colour on you,” she added with a soft laugh. “Hope so,” Erik chuckled before leaning down kissing er hand softly. “I'm rather fond of black clothes,” he grinned. “I can see that,” Cécile bit her lip and tried to hide her growing smile as her stomach started breeding butterflies. “You're very gallant,” she added, more than pleasantly surprised at his mannerisms. “Well I didn't think you were here for a one night stand,” Erik smiled and winked at her. “True,” Cécile giggled. “But I'll permit a kiss.” “Well if you insist,” Erik licked his lips, bending down again to kiss her cheek softly – Cécile was almost disappointed he didn't straight out French kiss her. That piercing was going to haunt her dreams till she actually got to feel what it felt like. “See you next Friday at 8?” he asked as he pulled away. “Yes,” Cécile smiled. “See you then,” she wrapped his leather jacket around herself and waved at him before running back across the road. Her pink dress stained with sweat and alcohol – and she was certain she stank of cigarettes and beer, but that had been thrillingly fun. She would have a few things to explain to her brother, but that didn't matter. Cécile had enjoyed the hour at the bar far more than she had enjoyed the hours in the hotel. And despite his initial terrifying appearance – Erik was intriguing. Perhaps she'd even try out his way of 'dancing' next time. __________________________

#aph norway #aph monaco #normona #normon #coffee's fics