#2p Norway

[baron-of-salt]

Booo! 👻🎃

[viking-of-cringe]

How's your relationship with your 2p! Icey?

Thanks for attention!¡ 😘🤭

[wiblischtt]

Chibi 2p!Norway in my design.

His life has new meaning.

[dark-and-kinky-hetalia-scenarios]

Hello! I was hoping if you would be willing to do the 2p Nordics with a very short s/o? NSFW if possible!

Of course! I hope you enjoy this :D fair warning tho I'm tall so I naturally don't have a lot of experience with being short ^^;;;

2p Denmark/Markell Køhler

He likes it a little too much in the wrong way (cough pervert cough)

He thinks that you being tinier than him is cute, and he will make you wear cute stuff and then fuck you in it, the size difference turns him on

2p Finland/Thurston Väinämöinen

He's already short enough as it is and he hates it, thinks it makes him look weak. That also applies to a possible SO, you would ideally be tall and lean so you can defend yourself and fight of course

He likes it in the bedroom kinda, he prefers having power over you, but that's about it, he'd still fuck you regardless of height, he just finds taller people to be better mates

2p Iceland/Erikur Steillson

Also prefers an SO who is shorter than him, so you're in luck, because he definitely enjoys the power trip of having a shorter SO both inside and outside the bedroom

It also makes it much easier to kidnap you and tie you to the bed until you agree to be his. His communication skills are shit, blame Loki for that one. Actually none of them really taught him any of that

2p Norway/Loki Thomassen

He doesn't have a preference for height other than it being close to his own. You can be as short as you like and he'll still kidnap you, force a love potion on you and then treat you like his most precious play thing

A short SO definitely also gets the short end of the stick, as he overpowers them more easily that way, size matters in this case

2p Sweden/Bernard Oxenstierna

His preferences lean towards a shorter SO but it's not really as outspoken as some of the others preferences. Mostly he likes picking up a short SO and swinging you around like in a dance and also because it's easier to move you around during sex if you're small

His yandere tendencies also have him leaning towards shorter people, they are easier to control physically. It's gonna be fun that day a short person absolutely wrecks him because he thinks them a weakling

[milaisreading]

*Me facepalms while Y/N walks away from 2p Japan.*

Me: Seriously Kuro? The love of your life just complimented you from her heart and you just seriously said that? Do you realize she probably won't talk to you after this, right?

2p!Japan: You are thinking too much about it. She will come back.

Meanwhile, Yn at the 2p!Nordics house talking the her 2p

Yn: What do I do? He will kill me! He said so! T_T

2p!Yn: Sucks... hmm. I don't know, really. Maybe avoid him.

Yn: Good idea! How did you successfully avoid all of them?

2p!Yn: Oh... they never leave me out of their sight *points at the 2p!Nordics*

Yn: Oh... makes sense. Can I stay with you, then?

2p!Yn: Sure-

2p!Finland: But, we are getting you a room of your own. We can't let you spread the outside bacteria around her.

2p!Norway: Can't have our 2p!Yn sick because of this! ^_^

Yn:Ok...thank you tho...

[mazrih]

in honor of the anniversary of my favorite crackship/rarepair/whatever you wanna describe them as, I redrew one of my favorite drawings of them(left) from way back when (ignore the bad art :P)

Allen is a damn hillbilly I love him <3

(also yes I know I forgot Norway's cross sue me)

[dunkelschtt]

+some old sketches.

[lady0ctavia]

When Their S/O Has a Nightmare (2p!Nordics)

Headcanons for how the 2p!Hetalia characters would react to their S/O having a nightmare while lying in bed beside them.

2p!Denmark: Markell would debate on whether or not to wake you up for a moment or two, but would ultimately decide to try and alleviate your pain however he can without waking you. This will take the form of brushing his hand across your cheek, pressing your foreheads together, maybe even rubbing his hand up and down your arm. If you woke up, he wouldn't say much, if anything at all. He'd just give you a small kiss on the lips to let you know he's there, and that you're loved.

2p!Sweden: Interestingly enough, Bernard is fairly similar to his 1p! counterpart in this regard, with the exception that he'd definitely be a bit more talkative. After waking you by lightly shaking your arm, he'd ask about your nightmare. If you don't want to talk about it, or you're too worked up, he'd sit up, grab you, and gently set you in his lap, holding you close and almost cradling you. Might hum a little tune or something.

2p!Norway: For someone who's usually a little more goofy and fun-loving, he gets serious when he finds you in a distressed state. So when you cry out in your sleep or start to whimper, his first instinct is to wake you. Once awake, he'd press your foreheads together when asking about the nightmare. If you don't want to talk, he'll then cuddle you throughout the night, reassuring you that everything is going to be okay.

2p!Finland: Thurston would immediately be alarmed if he heard you having a nightmare. Similar to how he'd be when he sees you crying, he'd be unusually affectionate here, which isn't common for him. But don't expect him to wake you, at least not intentionally. If he saw you having a nightmare, he would rub your back to calm you down. He'd be very gentle and loving, surprisingly so. Giving a few small, soft kisses to your head. "Rest now, love. No one's gonna harm you here."

[ask2pnordics]

???: Mr. Kallevig?

???: Mr. Kallevig are you alright?

Sindre: huh?

Sindre: oh! Yes!

Sindre: Sorry,

???: That's alright, this place must bring back a lot of memories.

Sindre: It does...

???: If you need to take a break at any point we can,

Sindre: I'll be fine! Besides, it'd take forever to shoot that way haha!

???: Alright. Mr. Kallevig,-

Sindre: Sindre is fine,

???: Right, Sindre, how old are you?

Sindre: same as the other Norways, 6,000 years, give or take.

???: So then we have a lot of ground to cover, let's start at the beginning.

Sindre: When I met everyone? Or the BEGINNING beginning?

???: What's your first memory?

Sindre: Darkness, dirt under my nails, and worms.

???: Almost poetic

Sindre: Ah! No, literally,

Sindre: This desperate fucking crawl for air; the other's should be glad they don't remember that far back, I was fortunate that I was a summer baby. The ground wasn't frozen fucking solid yet haha!

________________________

(( Welcome to ask2pnordics! We're running our ask blog a bit different than most, we will be following an episodic storyline starting from the beginning of everyone's lives all the way up until modern day,

All in the form of a documentary being shot!

Your questions will be asked to our characters in this interview, and they'll answer honestly (or not 😏)

You'll get to interact with several characters, not just our 2ps, though we'll mostly follow them

DO GIVE OUR CONTENT WARNING A READ THROUGH!!

This story will contain heavy adult themes; we will be tackling them respectfully, but this story may prove triggering for some, that can be read over on our page.

The blog currently says sindre runs it but we've copied the layout from our archived blog and are working towards fixing that, you're welcome to ask anyone questions but keep in mind that we will go in order of history! ❤️))

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

I'm a little late for mermay, can you do mermaid or pirate Nordics falling in love with an Octomer darling that they've seen occasionally above water ( the darling prefers not to be seen around the surface to much, they prefer to be in deep waters. ). You can decide if you want them yandere or not.

Happy Mermay to one and all. Let the warm ocean waves carry you away to the lagoons full of colors and fun.

It’s never too late!! As I write this almost a year later… I also mixed the ideas of pirates and mermaids around. Same with Yandere and non, I hope you don’t mind.

            The smell of salt and subtle sulfur accompanied the ocean’s crashing waves like the scent of fresh popcorn at a busy theater. The grey stones were warm and smooth as (Y/N) basked upon them.

            Stretching and curling her inky tentacles, she shifted more fully onto the tiny, sea stack. Cozy in nature’s embrace, the great Cecelia of the North Sea allowed her eyes to flutter shut to the sea’s lullaby.

Blissfully unaware of the eyes.

Eyes that were full of a painful longing that burned like the dying remains of an oil fire on a starless ocean night. Maybe… He thought they could be together. Maybe, their worlds could be one.

Yandere

            Denmark: The cacophony of loud howls and jeers shocked (Y/N) awake. Scrambling with contracting leucophores turning her body whiter than seafoam to escape the quickly approaching wooden whaler.

Instead of diving off the rocks into the cool sea, the Cecelia smashed into the thick, coarse, rope net. As the fibers tightened around her flexible body (Y/N) screamed and flailed.

Her sharp claws did nothing against the harsh strands as she was lifted away from the depths.

Louder the cheers became as she swung above the rowdy crew. Their hands reached to pull at (Y/N)’s form, in return, she gnashed her sharp teeth at them. Clawing for any flesh to destroy in hopes that creating fear would cause them to return her to the sea.

Each strike was like a failed hunt as each swipe became more sluggish. She thought the torture would never end when a loud voice called for the men to stop.

Silently, all eyes turned to the wheelhouse. She shivered as the blond man stepped down the wooden steps, walking closer. His men moved aside like fish before a shark. Though, she was the only prey in his violet-blue gaze.

Frozen she watched as he slowly reached out his scarred hand. The callous palm rested on her cold, moist tentacle seeming to savor her. 

(Y/N) hissed and lunged causing the net to sway. Grinning as her claws dripped red from catching the captain's hand.

His men somehow became stiller than a sea before a hurricane, and the Great Cecelia paid them no mind. Focused on her small win.

The captain looked at his injured hand before chuckling. Loudly it rang through the silence before the crew joined like terrified seagulls. 

“Thank min havkanin for the mark, but” He turned to the men behind him. “I think you need time to calm down. Don't you lot agree?!"

The chorus was louder than any whale song as the men affirmed their captain. 

"Then to the tank!" He yelled, before licking the blood off his hand.

Smiling as he made eye contact with (Y/N). 

            Sweden: As the sun passed its peak, (Y/N) awoke to the feeling of her tightened skin as it dried. Stretching should have been relaxing, but the state of her skin was more akin to a fresh sunburn after a nap in the summer.

Sluggishly she slunk back to the depths, shivering as the cold enveloped her. Quickly, her body readjusted to its primary environment, swirling in a graceful twirl as she sank to the seafloor.

The sand puffed like a smoke cloud as she rested, observing the blue world as a rumble came from her stomach.

A familiar scent bloomed like an anemone across the current. Blood, fresh and fishy.

Eyes dilated, (Y/N) followed the scent. Wondering if the injured being would be simple prey, or if would it lead her to a feeding frenzy that should be avoided.

Around the stones and across the sand, she glided. Stopping when the source was in sight.

A small, silver herring speared on what appeared to be a string of crystal struggled in front of a dark tube.

(Y/N) stalked closer, her curiosity pushing aside any fear as she reached for the fish. Her hand was a breath away when the fish was snagged back.

She blinked. Stunned, but that nagging of wanting, pushed her on. Forcing her way into the dark tube.

The fish glinted in the low light. Slowly, she again reached forward. Fingertips grazed the smooth scales when a loud bang turned her world black.

Gasping, (Y/N) turned and pushed against the now-closed entrance. Whimpers and cries hurting her throat from overuse. Deafening her from the subtle scrapping.

A sudden jostle banged her against the end of the trap as she was again exposed to the light.

Her hands pressed against the now clear sides to stabilize against the rocking movement. Her eyes froze on the whitetip shark man that was carrying her away.

His sharp smile offered no comfort as his muffled voice spoke to her.

“Ready to go home sjöstjärna?”

            Norway: Those thoughts of oneness rang through his mind like a belled buoy during a storm. Creating visions of a happy future that were as vivid as lighting.

Lidolf swam closer, timing his strokes with the tide. Hoping the foam hid his black-and-white form.

 As the cetacean was stilled by the pile of stone, he monitored his future mate for movement.  Slowly he lifted his hands over the rocks, dropping drops of seawater onto them. Hovering over her hips.

  There was no hesitation as Lidolf clamped down. Digging his claws into her soft flesh as he ripped her away from the world above.

The blond orca laughed as his manet began her panicked struggle. Her teeth and claws only left scratches in his blubbery hide.

He forced her head close as he nuzzled her neck, rapidly swimming off. Taking her away far from the warmth above while speaking promises of their new home.

Hours passed as the water chilled and large ice floats appeared, and (Y/N) began to weaken from the struggle. Her voice felt hoarse from screaming curses and insults at her captor. The Cecealia’s tentacles and arms hung limply with bruised tips.

With heavy eyes, (Y/N) noted how the never-quiet Lidolf had silenced himself. His face was stoic with focus as he gazed at different floats.

Suddenly, he popped up with a “That’s it!” and rushed between two colliding bergs. Turning sharply to the left before swimming into a large iceberg, that was protected by thick floats.

Once deep within the icy wall, (Y/N) felt Lidolf finally release his titanium grip. She seized the opportunity, pushing his arms aside. Putting distance between her and the orca male.

Eye to eye, they remained in a standoff. (Y/N) tensed as Lidolf spread his arms, welcoming her to their icy home.

“As I told you hours ago, I’m not your MATE!”

Dashing, (Y/N) used her tentacles to propel herself forward and around the crazed merman reaching for her again.

The chase felt one-sided as (Y/N) twisted and turned looking for the exit, and waiting for the orca to pull her back. Bite her with a claim and drag her deeper in. 

Looking back, that would have been a daydream compared to the nightmare he used. 

She had reached the exit, ready to bolt into the dark sea when his voice bounced off the ice in a language unknown to modern sea life. As quickly as it rumbled, it faded. Leaving (Y/N) frozen in silence.

When nothing happened, (Y/N) cautiously shuffled. She placed one tentacle out into the unknown, allowing it to curl against the uneven surface. The moment it settled, she screamed.

 Burning, red sigils ran up her form like fire racing over oil causing her to collapse against the berg. 

Panting, shaking (Y/N) was vulnerable to the gentle arms that scooped her. Tightly she was cradled against Lidolf, as he placed kisses along her hairline. Murmuring Norwegian comforts.

“What have you done to me?”

Clicking, Lidolf nuzzled her once more. “Making sure min manet stays home.”

            Iceland: (Y/N) scrunched her face as a small, warm current of air blew across her face. It didn’t last long before it disappeared, but that peace also didn’t last as another blew across her face. The Cecelia groaned and swatted the air hoping that the breeze came from a stubborn bug or stupid gull.

As her arm came down again, a deep giggle erupted like metal being dropped on a tile.

She snapped to attention like a spooked alligator. Nose to nose, she was with a charcoal-haired merman that had the brightest yellow eyes that she had ever seen.

“Who are you!?”

“Me?!” Cocked the cetacean male while putting his hand on his thin chest. “I’m Erlingr, sjókindin mín.”

Umming, (Y/N) opened her mouth to question the strange name forced upon her when Erlingr leaned forward. Their noses almost touched again.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

His request sounded innocent, but something in the tone wasn’t. Like a stranger holding candy doesn’t appear harmful, there is something about him that causes the skin to prickle.

“No,” (Y/N) shook as she slowly sunk back into the sea. “I’ve got to go.”

Her endeavor for distance was halted when Erlingr popped up in a flurry of bubbles.

He questioned why not, there is no harm in having fun.

Again, (Y/N) pushed back. Claiming she had to go hunt and reset her cove.

With each excuse (Y/N) could see how his fists tightened and he drew ever closer. Forcing her against the stone and blocking all exits.

There was no space left for breathing and she snapped at the skinny dolphin. Demanding he let her go with a futile push.

Erlingr leaned back and smiled showing his sharp teeth. “If you win my game, I will. But…”

“But?”

“If you fail, you come home with me.”

            Finland: The sea’s movement may have rocked the dingy, but the man within paid it no mind. Instead, his mind was occupied by his merienkelini on the stone. Her sleeping form would make his work so much easier.

Carefully, the Finnish pirate lifted the modified musket from the wooden floor. Adjusted the weapon for perfect alignment despite the constant motion of the ocean.

Click, boom!

The dart flew and hit (Y/N). The dart scraping only woke her a moment before the medication within knocked her back into dreamland.

Within minutes Niilo had rowed his boat to the sea stack. Tying it to the rock as he moved his prize onto the wet floor.

He smiled at her unconscious form before reaching for the small flare under his seat.

 Another series of clicks and boom turned the sky a flash red.

His crew would be here soon, and hopefully, his merienkelini will enjoy her tank.

Regular

            Denmark: Underneath the waves circled a blunt-nosed six-gill merman. His pale and tan countershading blended him in well with the sand as he stared at the being above the waves. Paying no mind to the mackerel that struggled in his right hand.

Breathing deeply, he floated to the surface, dragging the panicking fish with him. A look of determination in his violet-blue eyes as he closed in on Cecelia.

Using his hands, Markell lifted himself to be level with the stone top. Eye to eye he was with the now awoken mermaid.

For a moment he stared, savoring the way her head cocked to the side with droopy eyes made her look like a newborn seal pup.

“Umm… Can I help you?”

Blinking, Markell nodded before slamming the mackerel on the stone. Dazing the large fish.

“Care to share a meal, havkanin?”

            Sweden: Before slumber can fully pull (Y/N) under its spell, a gentle hum rose above the crashing wave. At first, she tried ignoring it thinking it was nothing more than a passing cruise celebrating some odd human milestone. But as the singing grew louder she twitched.

Once, then twice as the serenade continued its crescendo.

The great Cecelia slowly lifted herself on to her arms. Cautiously, glancing around the ocean surface for the owner of the voice.

To her surprise, it was not from a great yacht, but a small dingy that bounced against the gentle waves. Inside sat a man dressed in a blue captain’s coat with a peacock feather in his black tricorne. He smiled as his voice carried tales of pirates and their adventures.

Seemingly unnoticed, (Y/N) swam closer, quietly propelled by her tentacles. As the wooden side became eye level, she reached out and held to the smooth side.

Her grip bumped the boat, causing (Y/N) to wince as the soothing siren stopped.

A dark shadow overhead caused her to look up.

The man’s face was under the sea looking directly into her (E/C) eyes. His black-framed glasses almost floated away from his own gun-steel eyes.

“Hello, sjöstjärna!” He bubbled.

            Norway: Explosions rang loud like thunder and threw up water in the form of splashes like a reverse rainstorm. The aftershocks caused the sea stack to sway before it crumbled, throwing (Y/N) back into the freezing depths.

She gasped, watching as the marine life fled before the sinking balls of iron. Hastily resurfacing, (Y/N) turned in multiple circles, looking for the cause of the chaos.

Before she could locate anything, a screaming whistle forced her back into the water. The splash from above allowed for an easy dodge of the sinking cannonball.

As more iron rained from above, (Y/N) dove deep, hiding within the remains of the stack.

It felt like hours as she hid from the surface violence.

Eventually, the fury above slowed to a drizzle of metal before stopping altogether with darkness.

 Biting her lip (Y/N) slowly placed a tentacle in the exposed sand. Resting it for a second before quickly pulling it back. Hesitantly she repeated the process with more of her body until she was able to gaze up.

Above was the bottom of a large vessel. Its dark wood appeared well sealed but covered in barnacles like the great whales.

In an almost crawl, she swam to the side of the boat and surfaced. To be greeted once more by a splash.

Her attempt to bolt back to the newly formed cave was spoiled by warm flesh.

Thrashing, (Y/N) realized that one of the humans had grabbed her. Holding her in a grip that rivaled her own.

Teeth gnashing, (Y/N) arched backward. Ready to soak those ivory points red when she froze like stunned prey.

Scars.

All over they covered him like stripes on a sand tiger. (Y/N) expected someone like this to be ready to kill her, drag her from the sea, and skewer her like pork on a spit. Yet, he smiled and gazed at her like a lost treasure finally found.

The strange man took advantage of the confusion, bringing her back to the surface. He took a deep breath to restore what he lost while under the waves.

Her confusion deepened like an abyss when with no introduction, he made a request.

“Are you willing to join me on a quest, Manet?”

            Iceland: (Y/N) choked on the air as a sudden splash awoke her from the world of dreams. Her (h/c) hair clung to her like a second skin as she coughed up the coarse irritation that had taken residency in her throat.

A simple sweep of her hand not only corrected her dripping hair but also allowed her to take in the odd sight before her.

It was a skinny, young man, barely in years of adulthood. His bright, magma-yellow eyes looked like they should have popped, but instead, they were sunk in from starvation. Dark hair that must have once rivaled pure ebony looked more like an off-grey from days of grime.

Yet, despite the obvious suffering he smiled at her with Labrador energy.

“Hi!” he greeted as he reached for her arms. Missing as (Y/N) drew them closer to herself. “My name's Erlingr but call me Eri!”

(Y/N) continued to curl in on herself as she gave the young man a bombastic side-eye. “H-h-how did you get here?”

Erlingr’s smile somehow got bigger as he told the tale of his older brother, Lidolf leaving him behind. Claiming that his senior had ordered him to guard their treasure until his return. Which he believed would be any day now.

“Are you sure? It sounds like he stranded you to die?”

The stranded pirate sputtered in offense. “Of course not! Lidolf loves me, and even if he tried our brothers would have stopped him!”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but raise a brow at the lone man. “Ookay then… But why engage with me then?”

“Because I’m alone, and I see that you’re always alone. And I thought someone as pretty as you, sjókindin, shouldn’t be alone.”

Now, it was (Y/N)’s turn to feel offended as she felt heat flush under her skin. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’M ALONE!”

“Well…” Erlingr started. “For the last month I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you talk to or interact with anything.”

(Y/N) attempted to argue that was only on the surface. Under the sea, there was plenty of social activity for the cecealia.

But, he rebutted by mentioning how in a twenty-four-hour period, she was either above the surface or near it for at least eighteen hours. Which meant she was sleeping in a den the rest of the time.

Dumbfounded, the mer could only stare in confused silence. How was she supposed to respond to him?

“So, you wanna be friends?”

            Finland: (Y/N) felt something rough against her tentacles that rested in the tide. Startled and wide awake she glanced around the surface, looking for suspicious shadows.

There was nothing. Not a wave off beat, splash uncounted, and floating object unnoticed.

Still, the prickling feeling lingered as her chest tightened. She felt like she was gazing into the face of her executioner as she leaned closer to the sea. Hoping a closer view would expel her fears.

(Y/N) gasped as her hearts raced when a shark silhouette erupted from the darkness. Its large, serrated teeth sawing into her tentacles as momentum breached the fish from the ocean.

Together cecealia and shark flew in an arch before crashing back into the water below. An array of bubbles, ink, and blood blinded (Y/N) as she thrashed. The shark chomped and shook (Y/N) like a treat filled chew toy.

She tried to claw at the dead eyes while screeching like a banshee, but it was futile against the shark’s shakes.

As the water transformed from a dark purple to a cloudy ruby, (Y/N)’s vision was overtaken by black spots. She could feel the knife-like teeth cleave deeper into her flesh, about to sever it.

WHAM!

The red cloud split as she sank, free from death’s jaws.

Her numbing mind attempted to process the lone, long figure fighting off her predator. His claws gliding through the shark skin like it was soggy paper, leaving red tides in the wake.

The vision spots had changed to a growing dark edge. Gradually it took over, leaving her alone with the final sound she heard was a haunting howl.

The darkness remained for (Y/N) as she contemplated whether the pain she felt was meant as a punishment in death or that she had survived the fearsome beast. If it was the latter, how many hours had it been, and how did she?

“I know you’re awake merienkelini.”

(Y/N)’s (E/C) eye cracked open revealing a simple cave. Its grey walls had been craved from centuries of tiny movements, but that wasn’t what held her interest.

 The long, Harbour Porpoise merman that watched her with crossed arms did. As she stared at the annoyed man, faded scars became obvious. They littered his pale human half and speckled down to the grey and white tail.

“Um… How did I get here?”

The merman rolled his red eyes as he scoffed. “Did the shark tango really take that much out of you?”

“Yes.” She murmured, looking down at her seaweed-bandaged body. Wincing at the loss of three tentacles.

The sound of a disgruntled sigh and shuffle of movement brought her attention back to him.

“Names Niilo and…” He sighed again with a small blush. “I guess you can stay with me until you’ve recovered.”

[ask-2p-hetaliaaa]

DIEGO LIVES!

[baron-of-salt]

Sorry for the Russian text. Translate it yourself, if you're interested in what it's about. (⁠･ั⁠ω⁠･ั⁠)

[viking-of-cringe]

✟𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟐𝐏! 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐘

𝐇𝐞𝐲! 𝐌𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤.

Ask questions. I will try to answer everything... If they seem interesting! Hee-hee 😋😋😛😚💣💣

[wiblischtt]

Tw: some blood.

[dark-and-kinky-hetalia-scenarios]

Hello! I was wondering if you can do the 2p Nordics with a fairy reader!

Hi! I did some general headcanons on this. Hope you enjoy it! And thank you, this was really fun to write! (I'm obsessed with the folklore of my country, and I went with the ones from there and the other Nordics)

2p Denmark/Markell Køhler

he's a bit cautious about the prospect of a fairy S/O. Considering he knows the fickle nature of these creatures.

while you may be very sweet and attractive he'll never really let his guard down. He knows of far too many instances where someone has been tricked

2p Finland/Thurston Väinämöinen

he knows of these beings too, but he absolutely does not enjoy it. It's not the magic that's his problem with you, it is your nature of trickery and misbehaviour. He wants structure and order not whatever bullshit you may attempt to pull

he may attempt to remove your wings if he feels they are more trouble than they are worth. If you follow his commands, he will not harm you. But if you misbehave he will punish you accordingly. You will also be forced to cultivate your muscles, so you are not weak without your flying abilities

2p Iceland/Erikur Steilsson 

he would be willing to follow you anywhere, and he'd have no qualms with staying in your home world for eternity, as long as you're completely his

he is, just like the others, knowledgeable about your kind, meaning that attempting to trick him would be difficult, but he would let you if it benefits him. Try to screw him over and you might not have any wings after that. His sickles are always close by, and he sharpens one regularly, the other is kept dull for maximum pain

2p Norway/Loki Thomassen 

it fascinates him, he does much like his counterpart, prefer a partner of magical descent or full blown magical being. He is also aware of the trickery of these creatures. But as his name might suggest, he is also a trickster by nature. It'll be a battle of wits, one he'll thoroughly enjoy

he will ofc attempt to trap you with him, and keep you from returning to your home, where he may not be able to follow. And if you managed to trick him into your home, it would be difficult for him to get both of you out. He is not interested in spending 100+ years in a world where it only feels like a few days.

2p Sweden/Bernard Oxenstierna

he gets overprotective very fast, and he'll be the only other one willing to follow you into your home, regardless of the consequences for him.

he is a yandere by nature and while he prefers to pretend to keep the "family" together, he would enjoy coming back to see the chaos that unfolds without him. He would also be difficult to keep trapped anywhere, he is violent when it suits him and intelligent. Many things you wouldn't know until you're trapped yourself

[fantasy-and-fairfolk-hetalia]

winter court's royal chef: Eirik the nisse