#I’d have to look for the link tho it’s somewhere in my ao3 history

[fireandspiceland]

I used to kinkshame furry lovers and weird catgirl/boy stuff when I realized people described/write denmark as a human with golden retriever energy and I love this man so apparently after reading too much fics turns out I’m into pet plays which kinda explains alot…. I had pet names associated with animals for my prev partners so idk why it took reading hetalia fics on ao3 to come to this discovery. Also that readerxnorwayxdenmarkxsweden fic that had them in a rut was my awakening.

I’m also committed to refer to denmark as puppydog, germany as bear, america as beaver, and Netherlands as bunny. I refer to prussia as horse ironically. Gotta figure out what to call the rest.

Character development lol. I love how you figured this out for yourself and suddenly so many things made sense! ☺️

Denmark is definitely a puppy dog. I think him and america are prime examples of dog boys lol so it’s interesting that you associate him with a beaver

also reader x Norway x Denmark x Sweden?? where’s the link bestie?

[urdearestmom]

Airport Ballrooms | A Delayed Flight

so I don’t think I ever posted this there, and it reminded me that I need to post the rest of the chapters of LSS. but for those of you who haven’t come here from my ao3, here’s a little something I wrote back in January.

Summary: What happens when you hear a piano at 3 am?

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332432

She hears it before she sees anything. Right as she exits the washroom, a song’s beginning is heard from a piano. As it proceeds, she finds that it’s vaguely familiar.

Coming into the open area where she’s been sitting and trying to nap for the past three hours, she sees that the formerly vacant piano is now occupied by a man whose fingers are gliding across the keys, his dark hair slipping over his brow. He looks like he might be about her age, although she’s not sure.

He’s very concentrated on his playing, so he doesn’t notice when she stands off to his left, watching. He ends the piece softly and when he looks up, he sees her and jumps, putting a hand to his chest.

“Jesus Christ! …almost gave me a heart attack there,” he laughs.

She smiles. “Sorry. That was really nice,” she says, gesturing to the keys. “What was it?”

He shrugs. “Just some good old Chopin.”

She nods. “Sounds familiar.”

“Did you recognize it?” He asks. “It’s one of his most famous pieces.”

“Yeah, kinda sounded like a lullaby or something.” She scrunches her nose. “Never mind.”

He hums. “No, I get what you mean, it has that quality to it,” he says, getting up and pushing the bench in. “What’s your name?”

For some reason, it’s at that moment that she notices he has freckles, although not many. “Jane Hopper, but I go by El. I like your freckles,” she unashamedly comments, then cringes. Fuck.

They start moving toward the seats where she left her luggage, and she sees that there are a few more bags nearby that must be his.

“Really?” He answers. “I used to have a lot more when I was younger, it’s kind of a side effect of aging that you lose freckles.”

“They’re cute.” She looks at her feet. Again? Seriously?

“Alright,” he chuckles. “If you say so, El.”

It’s then she remembers she hasn’t asked his name.

“Michael Wheeler, but no one except my parents call me Michael. Mike’s easier,” he says, tilting his head. “Were you on that flight to Indianapolis? I think it’s the only one that got delayed this late.”

She sits back where she’s been this entire time, and he sits next to her. They’ve just met, but it’s nice not to have to sit in an empty airport terminal at three in the morning by herself, chasing sleep she knows she’s not going to find. “Yeah, I’m going home. I was in Vegas at a speech pathology conference."

Mike grins. “Vegas, huh? What’s it like, hit up any casinos?”

El lays her head back. “I was there for work, so no. I guess I could have, some of my coworkers did, but casinos aren’t really my scene. Too loud,” she responds. “My friend Dustin definitely did, he’s still there,” she adds with a smile.

“He sounds like fun.”

“Definitely is, though sometimes he can be a bit of a handful,” she laughs. “How about you? Going home too?”

Mike nods. “Yup. I was in LA visiting my cousin, but also working. I’m a piano teacher,” he says, wiggling his fingers. “And there’s been a new initiative here in the States, to get some sort of standardized way of teaching, like the Royal Conservatory in Canada. So there’s been collaboration happening, stuff might be in the works.”

She turns to look at him, taking in the excited way he says this. “You seem really happy about that,” she remarks.

He nods again excitedly, his mop of hair flopping over his eyes. “Absolutely! It would make things easier if every teacher across the country had a certain level of things to teach students. Be easier for students too, especially if they ever have to switch teachers.” Suddenly he blows air upwards. “I need to cut this shit,” Mike says, gesturing to the dark locks surrounding his face.

El contemplates him for a second, taking in how he looks. “Nah, it looks good with your face.” GOD, EL! Stop being so forward, you just met him! “I think so, at least, if my opinion counts for anything,” she says, suddenly shy.

It’s weird, she thinks, that she just met this guy less than ten minutes ago and they’re already talking so easily.

He smiles. “It does,” he says, taking out his phone. He shows her what’s clearly a selfie, but it looks like there’s two of him. “That’s my cousin.” Mike points at the one who’s wearing a Guns N’ Roses shirt. “And this is me.” He’s wearing a simple striped t-shirt.

She looks more closely at the picture, trying to find some difference between them. “You guys look like twins!” She exclaims.

“We could be, if he wasn’t five years younger. We get that a lot though,” he answers. “I think you’re going to agree with me on this.” He continues. “He says he’s more attractive, but I say we look the same and therefore have the same appeal. What do you think? As an outside party.”

El looks at it again, and finds that she disagrees with Mike. “I think you’re cuter. Something about you,” she replies.

She looks up to find that a lovely pink blush is spreading across his cheeks. “Something I said?” She winks. Oh my god you fucking idiot. She suddenly feels crushed by the weight of her mortification.

He makes a strangled noise, and the hour and her tired brain must be getting to her, because somehow she finds it the funniest sound she’s ever heard. It’s also a little comforting that he doesn’t seem completely put off.

“Damn, that was smooth!” He says, starting to laugh too. “I gotta tell him you said that.”

“Isn’t he sleeping by now?”

He shakes his head. “No, he says sleep is for the weak. And it’s only two in Cali, and it’s the weekend.”

She reads over his shoulder as he types.

Cute girl said I’m cuter than you LOL

Suck on THAT tozier

“You think I’m cute?”

Mike blushes again. “Yeah, pretty. Really pretty,” he says softly. He gets a text almost instantly.

I dont believe u wheelie

U probably paid her or smth

Also, suck on what ;)

Actually nvm thats incest its just my reflex response

Mike looks at her. “Is it okay if we make a video and send it to him so he believes me?”

She shrugs. “We’ve still got at least four hours to kill, so why not?”

He pulls up the camera and starts recording. “Fine, you don’t believe me, here she is herself,” he says, turning the camera on her.

She waves awkwardly. “Hey… um, what’s his name?” Cringe.

“Richie.”

“Hey, Richie, just a little video to say that in my opinion your cousin’s cuter than you. And no, he didn’t pay me to say that,” she states, glancing off camera with a small smile.

Mike turns the camera back to him. “There you go, asshole. Video proof.”

He sends it, and they wait a minute in anticipatory silence before Mike’s phone vibrates with another text.

Lmao that doesnt convince me

She is cute tho ill give u that

Mike heaves an over-exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. You’re a dick, he types, go to sleep I’ll text when I get home.

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK, MICHAEL.

GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP, RICHARD. YOU HAVE WORK TOMORROW.

FUCK WORK

Mike stares at his phone for a second before turning it off. “If I keep talking to him then he’ll never actually go to sleep.”

El smiles at him. “He seems like a fun person.”

“Oh, he’s an absolute dick. But I love him,” Mike says, shaking his head again. “We weren’t really close as kids but then he moved nearby and we talked more, except then I went to college. He’s closer with my little sister.”

She nods. “Do you have any siblings?” He asks.

“Nope. Just me and my dad.”

“That’s nice. Sometimes I wish there had been less people in my house, would’ve meant less embarrassment in certain situations,” he says. “I have two sisters, one older, one younger.”

“I wish I’d had a sister growing up, would’ve made things easier sometimes,” she answers. “Can you even imagine how awkward my dad was the first time I got my period?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, and she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said that. OH MY FUCK.

“Sorry, that was awkward,” she laughs. WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK.

“No, it’s fine, just unexpected is all,” he says. “I mean, we’ve only known each other for like fifteen minutes.”

They look at each other, the same thought going through their minds. “This is weird,” they say together, and then they start giggling.

“I just-” He takes a breath. “Do you feel like you know me from somewhere? Because I feel like I know you but I don’t think I’ve ever met you before.”

It’s what she’s been thinking. She feels a sort of familiarity with him, something she’s never felt so quickly with anyone else. It’s like she’s known him for a long time, or maybe in another life or universe.

She grins. “Isn’t there a multiverse theory?”

After spending an hour discussing parallel universes and the physics involved in understanding any of it (which they both have enough of a basic grasp on because of watching too much History Channel), Mike is sitting at the piano again, El having asked him to play something else. She doesn’t recognize the beginning, but as it progresses she realizes she does know it. It gets her moving, and she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, but she’s circling the piano and the man playing it in a way that somehow fits with the music. She even sings along with the main melody and the trills.

She feels like he’s transforming the place into a gigantic ballroom with his music, and she’s the princess dancing with her prince (except there’s no prince to dance with, because he’s too busy making the music). It’s a stupid thing to think, but she never had dolls or was allowed to watch princess movies or read fairytales when she was a kid, and she feels like she missed out. Hopper let her watch movies and read, but it wasn’t the same as a teen as it would’ve been as a kid. And maybe it’s just a dumb fantasy, a creation of her mind because she’s tired and suddenly thinking about her horrifying childhood, but she thinks the imaginary ballroom that only has her and Mike in it is a wonderful place to be.

He ends the piece with a theatrical flourish, throwing his hands up off the keys as soon as the last notes are played. “How was that? You were dancing!”

A laugh escapes her lips as she claps. “It was amazing! I knew that one, it’s from the Nutcracker, right?”

Mike nods vigorously. “Gotta love me some Tchaikovsky.”

“Is that why it’s so dancey? Because it’s for a ballet?” She asks, curious.

“No, it’s because it’s a waltz,” he answers, stretching his arms up above his head. His sweater rides up to reveal a sliver of pale skin, and she finds herself staring without being able to tear her eyes away. “Waltzes are inherently dancey, I think. At least that’s what I always tell my students who play them, it helps them really hear the tempo and accents if they try to see the dancers.”

She averts her gaze, and he’s still talking. “You know, ‘cause waltzes have the accent on count one, so it goes one-two-three, and sometimes when you’re caught up in playing you forget about it so it’s good to try and envision the dancing. The music was written for dancing after all,” he finishes. “El? Sorry, was I rambling, because I have a tendency to-”

“No,” she breathes. “You’re just really attractive. The piano suits you.” She almost face palms. WHY am I like this????

That shuts him up, a redness spreading across his face once again (but this time along with a wide grin). He might just combust if he looks at her, so he looks at his hands instead.

“Sorry,” she says, worried she’s crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to yet.

Mike’s head whips up. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“I’m too forward. It almost always ruins things with guys.” She deflates almost imperceptibly, and she wonders if he noticed.

Apparently he did, because El feels herself pulled into a sideways hug, tugged down to sit on the bench next to him. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re just saying what you think is true, which is a great quality to have. You saved me from my own rambling, so thanks.” He gives her a squeeze and adds, “It hasn’t ruined things with me.”

Suddenly the air is charged and she thinks that if they weren’t in an airport she might have kissed him then. Sadly, they are in an airport. Instead, she requests that he play something more contemporary than Chopin or Tchaikovsky, and he starts up with a rendition of Halo by Beyoncé.

They spend another hour around the piano, him playing more and she observing. El thinks he plays with a lot of grace, his fingers moving deftly across the keys almost as though he’s stroking the instrument. He looks like he belongs in front of a piano, making beautiful music for all the world to hear. In this case the world is a strange woman in an airport at the asscrack of dawn.

It’s five in the morning when the pair crashes back onto the seats next to their bags, and they lean their heads on each other and fall asleep. However, it seems things are only in increments of one hour on this night, because it’s six when El awakes with a start, knocking Mike’s head off of hers.

“Attention passengers: flight 337 to Indianapolis International is now scheduled for take-off at eight thirty. Boarding will begin at gate twenty-three one hour in advance.”

“Hey,” she says, seeing Mike next to her looking disoriented. “Flight’s at eight thirty but we gotta be there at seven thirty, do you wanna get some breakfast?”

Looking around, she sees that the open area that was so empty during the night now has other people milling through it, and it shatters the warm space she’d felt she and Mike were in. It’s time to go back to the real world, away from the fantasies of ballrooms and princes and dancing. The magic of the night has been erased by the movement of the morning and she hopes what she thinks she felt between them hasn’t been erased too.

He yawns. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, getting up to stretch and grabbing her bags.

They walk around the slowly filling terminal, looking for a place to eat, and light upon a cute coffee place in the food court. They order and eat in silence, avoiding looking at each other, until he speaks.

“Does last night… feel like it was a dream, to you?” Mike asks.

I thought that was just me. She takes a sip of her black coffee. “It kind of does, yeah. This entire encounter has been weird.”

He looks down at his croissant, crinkling his nose, then peeks back at her through his lashes. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He says nothing else, and neither does she, so they head off to gate twenty three, and she thinks something’s wrong because he wasn’t this quiet or awkward last night. The tension is palpable, but she’s never been very good at social interactions and she doesn’t know what to say. He probably realized how dumb I am. She thinks she may have come across as very brazen (which she is, but she hates it for how it ruins everything all the time). Mike hadn’t seemed bothered by her earlier, and she had hoped that something good might have come out of their chance meeting.

It seems it was not to be, however, because the only thing he does as they board the plane is wave and give a little half smile when he finds his seat. El sighs and settles in for the hour and a half flight. She’s decided she’s going to try to catch up on the sleep she missed instead of sitting in abject misery, and it works because she’s blinking confusedly when a flight attendant wakes her to say that they will be landing in approximately forty minutes.

She’s excited to be back home, to work, her patients, her dad and Max. But she’s also the teeniest bit sad because she wants to explore that special connection she feels with Mike, to see what it means and what it’s about and she believes she’s ruined her chances (okay, so maybe she’s more than a teeny bit sad). She’s convinced herself that nothing was ever going to happen, she had imagined the unexplainable thing she felt between them.

She makes it through baggage claim and isn’t sent to customs, so El’s on her way out of the terminal to catch a taxi because both Max and Hopper are working today when something does happen. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a person running out of the passenger exit, and she thinks that they must have seen a loved one they missed.

That is, until she hears the shout. “El!”

It’s Mike of course, and he comes to a skidding halt in front of her, breathless. “I just- ran- all the way here- because- I’m a dumbass-”

“Whoa, hey, breathe,” she says, “I don’t need you dying on me in the middle of the airport.”

He nods and waits until his breathing levels out before straightening up. “I wanted to apologize for being so stupid and awkward this morning, I don’t know what got into me.” He swallows before looking at her directly. “I really want to see you again, so… do you wanna go out sometime?”

WHAT! She doesn’t respond for a few moments, shocked. But then she grins and says, “Are you asking me on a date?”

He sucks in a breath, about to shake his head, she can tell, but then he stops. “You know what, fuck it. Yes, I am.”

“Well, I’d certainly like that.”

El leaves the airport with Mike’s number in her phone, and she’s only been in the taxi for a few minutes when it pings with a text.

Can you do tonight at 7?

He’s eager, and she likes that she’s not the only one. It assures her she’s not being some creepy, obsessive, stalker.

Someone’s eager lol

But yes

Where?

I was supposed to go to a “friend’s” party tonight but I never actually said yes and I really don’t want to haha

Kinda cheesy but I was thinking a roller rink if you want to go

There’s one near my place and it has an arcade too!!

Growing up in the 90s, El remembers being fond of arcades. She and Max used to hang out in them all the time. Another thing in common!

Aaaaaa the arcade I miss those

Sounds good, pick me up or meet you there?

I can pick you up lol I don’t mind

She sends him her address, and he sends back a GIF of a penguin dancing.

See you later :D

(part 2)