wingedsupernova

He was there. You could feel it. The shivers, the sweats, the racing heart. It was always the same. Though, of course, you'd never show it. "Hello, Russia," you said, not bothering to look up from your work. Your brush skidded slightly, and you cursed, knowing you'd have to start to piece all over again. Said man only grinned, as if oblivious to the effect he was having on you. "Hello, sunflower," he said, cheerfully. "Mind if I help myself?" "Payment first." Even if it was Russia, you weren't taking chances with anybody. Russia sighed, but the smile stayed on his face. "How much?" he said, his fingers lightly brushing against the small

Allistor Kirkland was furious.   And not the 'oh, dear, someone's taken another swig of the scotch bottle without asking' furious.   It was more the 'I'm going to murder someone every ten seconds until this gets fixed' furious.   Yes, the bad kind.   And you, dear reader, were in the centre of it.   Not that you'd done anything wrong, of course. Far be from it. You were Allistor's beloved daughter. Or adopted daughter, technically. He'd found you playing with Nessie on the banks of Loch Ness. Since you were too young to speak anything beyond the occasional 'yes', 'no', or 'hell no' (not sure where you had picked that

Don't fall in love. You were a weapons specialist living in the northern wilderness, somewhere between northern Ontario and the territories. You preferred the silence and peace that came with your location, especially when the TV showed the horrendous results of your work. You never meant to cause so much destruction -- honestly! The weapons you designed were specialised. An assassin's dagger for close-quarters contact, a sniper's rifle for picking off an elusive target. But, when some military generals had the (not-so) brilliant idea of mixing a few of your weapons to create instruments of mass-destruction, you became disillusioned with th

All accents are implied. Hold on to your hats, folks. XD You were England's secretary, and, if there was one person who hated France more than England did, it was you. England and France had centuries of shared history in common (albeit they had spent most of that squabbling, if not full-out wars), whereas you, a young human girl, only knew the constant flirts, poorly-veiled hints, and roses pulled out of God-knows-where. Although, recently, you hadn't noticed him doing it very much to the other girls around you, or even the female countries. It was as though he had deliberately singled you out for humiliation. And, regardless of the numbe

 A.N. I said I wouldn't update again. Sorry about that. ;.) A.N.N. And this isn't very romantic. In the way you're probably thinking. Sorry again. :.) Is that Poland's girlfriend? I… "CHERRRRRY!" The Sue jumped off the table, and right onto...France? "Oh, Cherry! I can't believe you're here! It's so romantic! Like a dream come true!" "Um, I think you have the wrong person, Miss," Seychelles said, hesitantly. "That's Mister France. Not Cherry." The Sue turned her ocean-blue-sparkling eyes towards Seychelles in a rage. "Back off, island-dwelling codfish of a whelp! He is too my cherry!" "Do you mean chèrie?" Canada ask, his v

You walked down the stairs towards the dungeon. A nod towards the guards earned you a "Good evening, ma'am" and free entry down the stairs. Sucking up to Nile Dok had its perks. Of course, you weren't involved. At least, not as much as he'd like to be. You made that much very clear to Arthur when you had agreed to this entire scheme. "But, love!" he pleaded, his eyes brimming with tears. "This is important! I'd send Vladimir or Lukas, but they'd both stand out and, besides, they're needed here. No one knows how long this mission might take." You crossed your arms. "So you're going to send me? Because I'm dispensable?" "No!" Arthur nearly

A.N. This piece has a few French phrases in it. Mon francais n'est pas le meilleur (French is my third language, and I didn't use a translator), but I did put "translations" at the bottom for you to use. Hopefully it clears things up. Yes, this is a short piece, but hopefully you find it cute. Matthew was visiting his beloved Papa in Versailles. The palace was elaborate and elegant, but Francis didn't seem as aware of the priceless heirlooms and antique furniture as Matthew was trying to be. Every day was filled with meetings with distinguished French men and woman, who greeted Matthew with the detached courtesy typical of members of their

A.N. Contains drug references and shady dealings. Not graphic, but implied. Please note, I am not condoning these activities; this is a work of fiction. Please be advised and read with discretion. You met Bella on the first day of classes. The two of you had taken seats next to each other on the bus, and it was an instant friendship. Just add sparkles and shake. At least, that was what it had felt like. Bella was kind, generous, easy-going, and amicable. What wasn't there to love? Oh, right. Her brother, Hendrik. He had Bella's good looks, but that was where the similarities ended. He was arrogant, snobbish, rude, and antisocial. You didn

Prequel: http://wingedsupernova.deviantart.com/art/Norway-x-Reader-Leave-Me-Alone-476531666 But, in case you aren't enthusiastic about long back stories, here's the condensed version. You are the personification of L'Anse aux Meadows, a portion of eastern Canada once colonised by Norwegian Vikings. You spent most of the last millennium trapped in a pocket dimension after one of England's spells backfired. There, you had a family, friends, a wonderful job, and a good life. Then you were transported back into this world. Right now, your main enemy is Germania, whom you brought back to life along with most of the other ancient nations due to

You, dear reader, are the personification of L'Anse aux Meadows. A Norwegian remnant in eastern Canada, your back-story can be found here: http://wingedsupernova.deviantart.com/art/Norway-x-Reader-The-Ball-473439015?ga_submit_new=10%253A1407287943 This occurs three days after a ball at England's place, where you met Alexander Rybak, Germania insulted you, and Norway started a fight. Enjoy!!!! It was three days after England's catastrophic ball. You had called Arthur several times, ensuring a fluid exchange of apologies between both households, but the sting still hurt. Not only had your home and family been ripped from you, but any standin