#feliks has his ways of teasing him back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

im-fairly-whitty · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Wolf: The Road to Kaer Morhen

Geralt and Jaskier have successfully retrieved Ciri just in the nick of time, but now must travel to the safety of Kaer Morhen with her and Mousesack the druid while Nilfgaard is searching for them.

Geralt's ability to turn into a wolf comes in handy, a mysteriously magical death unearths the beginning of a mystery he can't resist chasing, and he realizes that for Ciri's sake he must face the heretofore unaddressed relationship failings of his past.

[Chapter 1: By the Fireside]

Chapter 2: The Bandit

“Here, you look like you can use some coin. Have your little ones eaten anything today? I’ve got some food, take it.”

Geralt slowly drifted back to full consciousness as the sound of a stranger’s voice in the campsite pushed him awake. After his shift watching Ciri for nightmares he’d taken to meditating outside their tent for the rest of the night, his face hidden in his hood.

“In exchange why don’t you tell me where you’ve come from?” The voice continued from across their corner of the refugee camp. “Have you seen any troop movements during your travels? Any particular dangers along your way or tales you’ve heard from others?”

Geralt opened his eyes to peer across the burnt out fire pit. The sun was only just beginning to rise and the camp to stir but he could still see the man with a blond ponytail talking to the parents of Ciri’s playmates from the night before. He seemed to be freely distributing food to the children from a satchel, food that only Geralt could scent as smelling faintly of death.

Geralt’s eyes widened as the man’s familiar scent registered, taking in the man’s blue tunic and the black leather patch strapped over one eye. He hadn’t seen the bastard since the last time he’d been robbed at knifepoint in Novigrad.

Geralt got to his feet silently, crossing the campsite in several quick steps and latching a hand onto the man’s shoulder, unceremoniously pulling him out of camp and into the forest brush before he could react. Geralt was careful to pin the man’s hands behind him before a startled dagger could have the chance to find its way into Geralt’s ribs.

“What are you doing here Feliks?” Geralt rumbled as soon as they were out of earshot from the camp, shoving the man a few steps from him as he released him. “Shouldn’t you be pickpocketing merchants in Novigrad this time of year?”

Feliks’ expression was panicked and cold as Geralt released him, but it flashed to one of delight instead as he turned and got a look at who had scruffed him. He caught his balance against a tree, looking up at the witcher with an excited smile.

“Geralt of Rivia!” Feliks cried. “Goodness, I never thought I’d see you here of all places? Why, I don’t think we’ve seen each other since I kept the boys from robbing you at knifepoint last year in the leatherworking district. How are you? Is Jaskier with you? Where did-”

“My question first.” Geralt interrupted, knowing from experience that the excitable bandit leader could out-babble even Jaskier given the chance. “What are you doing in a refugee caravan this far from the city? I thought you’d given up life on the road in favor of benevolently ruling your patch of gang turf.”

“Well you can’t really expect me to just sit around in the same city all year, can you Geralt?” Feliks said with a smile, hands on his hips. “The boys hold down the fort whenever I feel like going for a jaunt, there’s been so much buzz around the Nilfgaardians I thought it might do me some good to get a bit of fresh air. See the countryside, scout some troop movements, pick some corpses clean.”

He cheerily pulled at the strap of his satchel, hefting its contents. Well that explained the lingering smell of death. “Nothing gets coin moving like war my friend, and information is the hottest commodity around. Why pass the chance to stretch my legs on to a lackey when I’m perfectly capable of hopping refugee camps to collect it myself?”

“Only you would think of a trip to the countryside and looting corpses as equally enjoyable outings.” Geralt said flatly.

“Oh don’t you tease me like that, witcher.” Feliks said with a wink, flipping a coin in the air and catching it. “You’re the one who taught me how to shake down a stiff back when I was just getting started, remember? Could have cut me down in my own oversized stolen boots for getting into your saddlebags uninvited, but instead you showed me how to hold my sword right. Besides, coin does these refugees a lot more good than it’ll ever do the dead whose pockets it came from, even if it has got some blood on it.”

“If I’d known my advice would lead you to becoming Novigraad’s youngest syndicate leader I’d have trussed you up and tossed you in the river instead.” Geralt said dryly, despite his best efforts unable to keep the barest hint of fondness from creeping into his voice.

Even though Geralt didn’t approve of all of Feliks’...methods, he also knew that the poor who lived in the neighborhoods he claimed never seemed to go without for as long as Feliks was in charge. The bandit had come a long way from the starry-eyed young man Geralt had first caught stealing from him years ago.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re wandering into war zones alone.” Geralt said sternly. “Information won’t net you a payday if you’re too dead to sell it.”

“Oh, I’m not alone!” Feliks said brightly, then hesitated with a sheepish smile. “Or at least I wasn’t until yesterday. I’ve been traveling with Wit of Drobiazg again, but she said all the cat witchers are being called back home to the caravan until they can tell which way the war’s going to blow. You know how the cats are with their assassination contracts, want to make sure they’re getting hired by the winning side. Are you heading back to your keep too? I imagine any witcher will be glad to hole up for the next while, probably won’t be many contracts other than necrophages for a long while.”

Geralt jolted as a puzzle piece clicked into place in his memory.

Wit of Drobiazg, who shared the same last name as the late spymaster of Cintra.

Wit of Drobiazg, the cat witcher who was infamous for her unusually strong Igni casting.

Geralt had scooped Wit out of a disastrous contract-gone-wrong decades ago, back when she’d practically still been a kitten, making her one of the rare cat witchers Geralt ever risked hanging around the occasional times their paths had crossed over the years. She might like him for saving her life, but it didn’t change the fact that hanging around a cat always felt a bit like storing a bomb with a lit fuse in your pack.

But Feliks had never seemed to mind in the slightest. The two forces of chaos had taken a liking to each other after Geralt had accidentally introduced them a few years back, during a particularly trying fortnight when the three of them had been trapped in the same town together.

“You two travel together often don’t you? Has Wit ever told you about her family?” Geralt asked, latching onto his epiphany before it had the chance to slip away. “Does she remember anything from before her trials?”

“I...maybe? She’s mentioned them a few times I suppose. Why?” Feliks said, looking thoroughly confused by the abrupt change in topic.

“Did she keep her family name after she was given up or did she just choose it herself?” Geralt asked.

“I think it was her family name?” Feliks said, squinting and scratching his head. “She wasn’t too young when she was taken by the cats I think, she could have remembered it when it came to taking her witcher name. You’d have to ask her to be sure though, she doesn’t like talking about her childhood too much. I mean, you know how it is with witchers. Bit of a sore subject for you lot isn’t it?”

“Hmmm.” Geralt grunted.

He knew he should probably drop it--gods knew he already had enough on his plate to worry about with getting Ciri and the others to safety--but he never had been good at letting mysteries alone once he’d gotten started thinking about them. Doubly so if he found a lead.

“Do you know where the caravan is traveling? Where I can find them?” Geralt asked.

He’d never dare tracking down the cat witchers’ caravan uninvited...but perhaps a message with some carefully phrased questions could be sent instead?

“Of course not.” Feliks said with an easy smile.

Geralt sighed, pulling out his coin purse. “Alright, how much is that information going to cost me?”

“Sorry Geralt, not for sale.” Feliks said with a good-natured shrug. “Friends and family discount means I don’t sell information on family and friends where it’s not wanted.”

“Even if I’m a friend too?” Geralt asked, tipping an amount of money into his hand, letting the coins glint temptingly. “I’m a friend asking a friend about a mutual friend.”

Feliks only chuckled. Geralt poured a few more coins but Feliks just shook his head. Geralt let a truly exorbitant amount of coin spill into his hand, far more than he’d ever dream of actually handing over, just to see what would happen.

But instead of a greedy spark lighting in the bandit’s eye, his smile faded and he frowned, looking up at Geralt.

“Geralt, is something wrong?” Feliks asked. “Why do you need to find the caravan so badly?”

Geralt sighed, tipping the coin back into his purse and tucking it away. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ve just been meaning to ask her something, then I was curious to see if you could be budged. My apologies if it came off as insulting.”

“If you’d asked me anything else I’d gladly have taken your coin, but...” Feliks grimaced. “You don’t make it very far in my line of business if you don’t know what’s worth more than money.”

“Perhaps I can pay you for some other information then.” Geralt said. If Feliks was dealing in information then he would have heard if soldiers were searching for a certain ashen-haired princess. “Jaskier and I are trying to get to the Hertch mountains as quickly as we can, have you heard of anything that could get in our way?”

“Now that I can help you with.” Feliks said, his smile returning. “There’s plenty of-”

“Geralt?”

Geralt tensed, looking up to see Ciri tromping through the brush toward them, rubbing her eyes. He sighed silently. He should have dragged Feliks farther into the woods, he hadn’t wanted the bandit to see her, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“I woke up and you were gone.” Ciri said, reaching him and sleepily burying her face against Geralt’s side, her hood falling to reveal her snowy blonde hair before he could catch it.

Geralt looked up warily just in time to see Feliks’ eyes widen.

He knew.

Geralt sent him the iciest warning look he could manage.

“This is Fiona.” Geralt said, every syllable carefully measured and loaded with unspoken meaning as he stared Feliks down. “My daughter. We’re traveling to safety away from the war.”

“Your daughter.” Feliks repeated, looking like he was barely managing not to trip over a whirlwind of thoughts inside his head. He blinked, pulling on a smile. “So you and Jaskier adopted then, how lovely! I’m sure you’re all very lucky to have each other.”

Geralt watched Feliks rub nervously at the edge of his eyepatch, biting his lip as he looked at Ciri with concern.

“Are you sure that...?” Feliks started, but his voice trailed off.

He scratched the back of his head, looking like he was fighting back a grimace as he looked up at Geralt. When he spoke again his voice was hushed and strained. “You really shouldn’t be here with her Geralt, not in a camp like this, there’s too many eyes around who will sell you out for their next meal.”

“We’ve been traveling away from roads for days.” Geralt said, fatigue creeping into his voice now. “We needed a chance to get more supplies and to find out what’s going on so we don’t run headlong into a trap or a military camp. This was our first chance.”

“Well you need to get out as quickly as you can.” Feliks said, his gaze deadly serious as he glanced around. “I’m not the only one here harvesting information to resell, and if the emperor knows she’s traveling with a witcher and a bard that’s going to be a wanted poster description so colorful that even the drunkest peasant can remember it. A princess, a witcher and a bard, it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

“And a druid.” Geralt sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“And a druid?” Feliks said, shaking his head with a bemused smile that managed to stick for at least a second before dropping away again. “Well then, here’s the information you asked for. Stay away from roads and towns, if you need to get supplies only send the druid or Jaskier to get them since you and the girl will be the most easily recognized. You’re ahead of the armies for now but only barely, and the longer you travel the more refugees there will be competing for resources, so try to move as fast as you can to stay ahead of them.

“Most large bridges are already locking down and demanding inflated tolls, so avoid those whenever you can and get across the river another way. You’ll also start seeing towns and villages who have preemptively sided with the emperor to avoid being ransacked too and they’ll have notices looking for the princess posted before you’ve even arrived, so beware. Why the emperor wants her so badly is anyone’s guess, but he’s already doing ugly things to try and get her.”

“Thank you Feliks, we’ll do our best to follow your advice.” Geralt said soberly. He looked down to brush hair from Ciri’s face. Her eyes were still closed, by now all too used to adults discussing the danger looming over her. “Fiona, go wake Jaskier and Mousesack, tell them we’re leaving as soon as we’re packed.” he said, careful to keep in the habit of using her false name.

Ciri blinked up at them both for another moment as she hesitated, but then went off back to the camp without a word.

“How...?” Feliks asked, watching her go.

“Safer if you don’t know.” Geralt said, getting an understanding nod from Feliks.

“Are you staying out here for long?” Geralt asked, pulling out a reasonable amount of coin and handing it to Feliks.

“Not without Wit.” Feliks said grimly, pocketing the coin. “Like you said, there’s no payday if you’re dead. No, I think you witchers have the right idea, I’ll probably hang around home until things have a chance to settle. Besides, Nilfgaard barely even leaves scraps behind to scavenge from once they’ve passed through. Just ash.”

“I wish you safe travels then.” Geralt said.

“To you as well.” Feliks paused for a moment. “Geralt, I can’t promise anything, but if I do have the chance to pass a message on to the caravan would you want Wit to know you’re looking for her and will be found at Kaer Morhen?”

Geralt hesitated. Vesimir had expressly forbidden cats from entering the keep as a rule, but he had made a reluctant exception for Lambert’s cat friend Aiden before. There was no guarantee that Wit would even get his message, let alone respond, never mind actually make the trek all the way out to Kaer Morhen. In all reality it would probably be years before he had the chance to find her again, meaning there was no real harm in giving implied permission for her to visit the keep.

“Yes, you can tell her.” Geralt said. “But only if it’s just her, I don’t need the entire caravan knowing. And nothing about...nothing about anything else, right?”

“Family and friends discount.” Feliks said with a crooked smile. “Your secrets are safe with me. Even if they’re the most inadvisable kind.” His smile dropped. “Now get moving, you’ll be lucky to get out of the camp before anyone else sees you or the girl.”

Geralt nodded, turning back to camp without another word and already grimly contemplating the decidedly town-less rest of the journey ahead of them.

----------------

Feliks the bandit belongs to @ibrithir-was-here and is great friends with Wit of Drobiazg the Cat school witcher.

You can see their character designs here: https://im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com/post/614599362829533184/witcher-friends-d-wit-of-drobiazg-has-many

#witcher wolf #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #feliks #friends ocs #the witcher

19 notes · View notes

ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

Text

All For The Best

Chapter One

A/N: Alright, here it is. The sequel to “We’ll Have Tomorrow,” which you can catch up on here if you haven’t read it already

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers x OC

Summary: River takes Max and El to the mall, hoping to see Steve in the meantime. Somehow, she gets dragged into cracking the code Dustin intercepted.

River and Hawthorne had been staying with their aunt and uncle for about a week now. Occasionally, El would try her best to check in on them, though it didn’t happen very often. As far as River could tell, El hadn’t ever tried using her powers from this far away, so it was probably for the best.

In the short time that they’d been in Sweden, mostly staying with their Uncle Feliks, they’d both done plenty of exploring. Their aunt, Anya, got herself a hotel not too far away so she could spend some time with them as well. And so far, it had been going amazingly well.

Admittedly, River had been hesitant and a little scared that it wouldn’t, but those fears were quickly washed away. Feliks was probably the nicest person she’d ever met; not at all like her father despite them being brothers. And she’d quickly learned that they shared a lot of the same interests.

Then there was Marius. He was Feliks’s boyfriend, though they typically used the term “roommates” in public, which wasn’t exactly wrong. He was nice, too. Both of them had done a great job making her feel like she belonged, and for that, River was thankful.

Anya had been just as welcoming, and she’d tried to take the time to drag them along places so they could explore together and spend some time. It was hard to believe that none of this was a dream. River hardly had any memories of either of them, but she already felt like she’d known them both forever. It was a nice feeling having some family that actually cared about them.

Of course, they hadn’t planned to stay the whole summer, so it wasn’t too long before they were due to return. River found herself wondering what everyone else had been up to in the time they’d been gone. Hopefully it hadn’t gone to shit in that time, though she wouldn’t have been too surprised.

As fun as being with family had been, it was oddly nice to return to Hawkins. Sure, there was nothing particularly special about it, but maybe that was the appeal. After all, the town certainly had a different feel to it when you had some insight to how extraordinary of a place it was.

Thankfully, River wasn’t too out of the loop thanks to El. She’d done a good job of keeping her in the know, especially about how Steve started a new job not too long ago. That just meant she’d have an opportunity to check out the new mall she’d heard a lot about.

Naturally, River and Hawthorne had the foresight to meet with Hopper and fill him in on their trip.

By now, River could immediately tell something was going on. He was more than thrilled to see them again, but he also seemed much more chipper than usual. She preferred not probing anyone’s minds if she could truly avoid it, so she figured it would be better to ask outright. Maybe something great happened that she didn’t get to hear about.

“Has everything been okay over here while we were gone?” she asked, grabbing herself some soda from the fridge.

The grin on Hopper’s face was unmistakable, and it almost concerned her, in all honesty.

“This is the first time all summer that Mike and El haven’t seen each other.”

“What? Why?” She was shocked. They’d been pretty attached, and, last she saw, more than excited to see each other this summer.

Something had to have happened.

“Well, Joyce said to set boundaries, so I did,” Hopper explained, not making eye contact with her. Something about that didn’t seem right.

Hawthorne seemed to have the same thought process and asked, “What kind of boundaries?”

Hopper shrugged, seemingly trying to act nonchalant. “I pulled Mike aside and had a little chat with him.”

“Did you ‘have a chat’ or yell at him?” River asked.

She knew he could be a bit intense every now and then, and she remembered how disgruntled he seemed about how much time they spent together.

“Look, what matters is that it worked,” he insisted. “I’m going to tell Joyce how it went here in a minute.”

He was already throwing on his hat and grabbing his keys, so River let it go for now, but she worried about how El was holding up. She knew how much she seemed to like having Mike around.

Not all that long after Hopper left, El came out of her room, Max trailing behind her. Not exactly what she was expecting, but it was nice to see them hanging out themselves.

El immediately brightened up when she saw the twins hanging out in the kitchen. “You guys are back!”

Before River could answer, she was pulled into a bone-crushing hug. “Wow, you’re strong.” She hugged back, patting her back and offering a fond smile. El didn’t waste doing the same to Hawthorne, which made him laugh.

“What are you guys up to?” River asked.

“We’re heading to the mall,” Max answered.

She paused, giving them a stern look. “Woah, that’s against the rules,” she said. “You know that’s not allowed.”

“But you leave,” El pointed out.

While she had a point, that wasn’t the same thing. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

Sometimes, River almost hated how quick El was to question everything, but she understood that she was asking a genuine question.

“Because I’ve been hiding in plain sight for a long time now. And you’re supposed to be careful for a while.”

Max was just as stubborn and chipped in with, “but Mike’s being a jerk. And I thought it might help her to have some fun without him.”

“Can’t you guys do that here?”

“Sure, but that’s not as fun is it?”

River sighed. She was sure this had something do with Hopper and Mike’s “little talk.” He must have scared the kid, and she wouldn’t put it past him to keep that from her. Maybe El would benefit from going out. Just this once. Besides, she knew she’d find a way to sneak out if she didn’t let them.

“Fine, but I’m coming along. I was already planning on heading to the mall, anyways,” River said. If they were going to be out and about, might as well be around to make sure nothing bad happens.

Hawthorne seemed a little surprised she’d cracked. “What if Hopper comes back while you guys are gone?” he asked.

“I’ll make sure we’re back before he does.” Maybe not foolproof, but she would just have to take a risk. She was sure she could reason with him if he found out.

The girls dragged her along before he could make a retort, and she followed them out to the bus, which was pretty packed. She let the two of them sit together and took a seat behind them.

“So, what are you going to the mall for?” Max asked, turning to face her.

River shrugged. “I’m just curious to see what it’s like. I never thought Hawkins would ever get a mall.” It was a pretty small town, and she’d heard Starcourt was pretty big, which intrigued her. Even if that wasn’t really the reason she was going, which Max seemed to infer.

“Oh, come on. That’s not all, is it?” She turned a bit more, throwing her arm over the back of her seat. “You’re going to see Steve, aren’t you?”

Admittedly, the fact that she’d gotten right embarrassed her a little. Was she really that obvious?

“Well, he is my friend, and I haven’t seen him all summer,” River pointed out.

Max didn’t seem totally convinced. “God, are you two ever going to stop being so blind?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We all know you guys like each other,” she insisted. “It’s been so painful watching you guys tiptoe around your feelings.”

The fact that Max was that observant was a testament to how smart she was, but River saw it as more of an inconvenience right now.

“We have not. We’re really just friends.” River wasn’t any more convinced hearing herself say it, but that was the truth, wasn’t it? There was no way they’d be more than that. And it wasn’t like she liked Steve that way.

Max shook her head, turning around again. “You guys are hopeless.”

Her words continue to ring in her ears the rest of the bus ride, and by the time they stopped outside the mall, River’s mind was racing.

She tried to brush it aside as they hopped off the bus.

El looked around curiously, almost seeming a bit worried and distressed.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked.

“Too many people. Against the rules.”

Now she questioned going out? Then again, it was way more overwhelming actually being here. Starcourt was much bigger than River expected.

“Seriously?” Max nudged her, trying to be encouraging. “You have superpowers. What’s the worst that could happen?”

River wasn’t sure if they should speak so soon, but decided this would be a good time to set some ground rules.

“Okay, if I’m going to set you loose, I want you guys to meet me at Scoops Ahoy when you’re done.” She ignored the smug look on Max’s face. “Is that clear?”

Both girls nodded, and she let them wander off on their own for now. El deserved a chance to be a stupid teenager for a few hours.

Right now, River was much more preoccupied with the thought of bugging Steve. Maybe she’d even weasel some free ice cream out of him. And the uniform. She’d heard all about the Scoops Ahoy uniform and how funny it looked. Already, River was mentally preparing herself to laugh hysterically at him.

Of course, maybe not as prepared as she previously thought. As she approached the counter, she tried with all her might to hide her snickering, but it was practically impossible.

“Okay, yeah. Laugh it up,” Steve muttered. “I’d like to see you make this ridiculous uniform work.”

River snorted, giving him another once-over. “No way. I think you make it work just fine,” she teased. “That hat really brings the whole outfit together.”

She could imagine the mental anguish he was going through having to hide his hair.

“This thing is totally screwing me over!” he exclaimed. “How the hell am I supposed to pick up girls if I’m not even allowed to show off my best feature?”

Honestly, River wasn’t really sure why, but she felt a slight pang of jealousy just thinking about all the girls he must have flirted with.

“I’m sure one of them is bound to come around,” she assured him. Steve didn’t seem so sure. The dejected huff he gave in response was enough to convince her he was losing hope.

Before she could dig through her brain for any more comforting words, Dustin popped his head out of the break room. River’s brows furrowed. Why he was here was beyond her, but she supposed it shouldn’t have been so shocking. Steve and Dustin were practically inseparable at this point.

Dustin brightened up the moment he spotted River, but the relieved look on his face put her on edge. Something was happening here, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

“Perfect! Steve, why the hell didn’t you tell me River was here?” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air followed by an exasperated sigh. “She can help us.”

Steve’s eyes widened, and his previous look of defeat was replaced with a huge grin.

Something was definitely happening here.

“Okay, woah. Help with what?” River glanced between them, even more peeved that neither of them was telling her anything. It was like they were having some telepathic debate, which was impossible. Telepathy was her thing.

“Hi. Hello. Anyone wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” she exclaimed.

Neither of them answered right away. Dustin was quick to take her hand and drag her into the back room. She hardly had a chance to notice Steve glance around the shop, as if scanning for anyone who might be eavesdropping. That only concerned her more.

In the back room, there was a tape recorder placed in the middle of the table, and standing at the end of the table was Robin Buckley. River had a few conversations with her, so they were acquainted enough, she felt.

“Okay, seriously. What is all this about?” River asked, glancing at the recorder.

Dustin plopped into a chair, looking like a kid in a candy store. Or an ice cream store, really. He was clearly excited about something.

“Last night, I was trying out Cerebro — the radio I built — and I intercepted some kind of code,” he explained. “The only problem was, it’s in Russian. And Robin thinks she’s cracked it, but I thought — since you speak Russian — maybe you could double check.”

There was a lot to unpack there, and she wasn’t even sure what to make of all that. Nevertheless, she caved and listened to the tape. As she looked over their translation, sure enough, she could safely say they had it pretty accurate.

River sat back, dropping the notepad on the table. “Yeah, that’s right,” she said. “No clue what it means, but you got it.” She turned to Robin, who looked relieved and maybe a bit proud of herself.

“There’s no way that can be right,” Steve chimed in. “It all sounds like nonsense.”

“Well, I’m telling you, it’s right,” River insisted. “It’s a code. Did you think it was going to be clear?”

Steve sighed and crossed his arms, leaning against the door. “No, but it feels way too...all over the place. I don’t know.”

“Whatever the hell it means, it’s just going to be harder to crack.” She knew Dustin had a point, though she wasn’t even sure where to start with this.

At some point, Steve and Robin had to go back out to work, but River stayed in the back room to help. As she expected, they weren’t making any more progress than before. Interpreting the code was proving far more difficult than Dustin hoped, and she could only do so much to help him.

An hour or so passed, and she finally looked up as Steve peeked in. “Max and El are here for you,” he said.

River got up, wishing Dustin luck and ruffling his hair, before she went out to meet the girls. “Is El even allowed out here?” he asked as she went around the counter.

“No, but I decided one mall trip couldn’t be a bad idea.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask her to elaborate, thankfully.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” River added. “I hope you guys have some better luck.”

“We’ll tell you how it goes,” Robin assured her, offering a smile.

River nodded and said her goodbyes before the girls dragged her back to the bus. She immediately noticed the wardrobe change El was rocking. And honestly? She really liked it.

Luckily, Hopper wasn’t home yet when they made it back to the cabin. River went to her room, letting the girls hang out in El’s room.

Her mind wandered, as she laid back on her bed. She had her headphones on, her Walkman softly playing “Take a chance on me.” There was a lot going on in her head, and it was so hard to make sense of any of it.

Over and over, she kept thinking about what Max said to her on the bus. Sure, Steve was her friend, and she liked him. He really wasn’t so bad the more time she spent with him, and they’d gone through a lot together. But that didn’t really mean she liked him, right? There was no way.

In fact, she had a feeling Steve probably liked Robin, or literally anyone but herself. More than likely, he just saw her as a good friend. Which was fine, because she was sure she felt that way about him.

He’d done a lot of nice things for her, but that was what friends did for each other. River wasn’t any less confused the more she thought about it.

It was late and, therefore, a problem to deal with tomorrow.

Taglist: @bravest-at-heart @jxnehxpper @musicalytrashpanda

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #steve harrington x original character #st #stranger things fic

14 notes · View notes

inkstaineddove · 4 years

Text

Aria for a Fool

Ships: AusHun; implied PruHun

Characters: Austria, Hungary; mentioned Prussia

Summary: After their marriage in 1867, Austria begins treating Hungary with more kindness and respect, realizing how close he came to losing her. Against all odds and expectations, feelings begin developing and he finds it near impossible to contain them any longer.

Vienna, 1893.

Roderich's home was his piano. It was sweet release, his break from all reality. In some ways, his music had become a well-tended addiction, often the only thing capable of providing him respite. He was turning to it more often these days. The world was changing fast and it troubled Austria. He found his thoughts more preoccupied by the shifting power balances among Europe and the rest of the world along with the clamoring for independence by the various ethnic groups under his control. But he refused to think about that now. His fingers glided over the keys, opting to compose their own melody this time instead of going through the stacks of sheet music in his head to find the right piece. What his heart was playing was heavy with melancholy, but with a glimmer of hope.

When he finished, he was plenty surprised to hear a polite clap. Roderich turned around and met Erzsébet's eyes. "I wasn't doing anything and your playing is so beautiful. I hope you don't mind." Her smile was polite, yet warm.

"Not at all. I appreciate having a captive audience." He gestured to one of the couches nearby. "Sit, there's no need to stand in the doorway."

She complied. Erzsébet pulled her legs up besides her and sighed. "It's beautiful, really. Whenever you play, it makes you feel almost approachable."

In the past, this type of statement would've annoyed him. But, since their official marriage in 1867 and the elevation of Hungary's status with it, he'd been doing his best to be kinder. Whatever their feelings were, he was afraid to lose her and knew he'd come too close. "Am I not normally this way?" He imagined himself as a big, hulking monster. The picture bemused him.

"No, you're normally much more..." She tried to find the word. He watched her trying to grab it in her head and the sudden euphoria when she found it. "Unobtainable."

"That's applicable to you as well." A statement that could've easily been used as a weapon, but came across more as gentle teasing.

"Hush, that's different. You're usually so far beyond. You weren't like this before. Empire changes people." Hungary looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes as she spoke for fear of how he'd react. "It brings out the worst traits in all of us."

Incredulous, he pressed her. "How so?" He swiveled in his seat, turning himself so he was fully facing her instead of his instrument.

She teased her nails with her teeth, a habit she'd long had since childhood. She understood the importance of getting her words right when it came to this topic, for his understanding and for her own sentiments to be properly conveyed. "What's that saying? Absolute power corrupts absolutely? If it's true for man, then it's true for us. You become the center of the world, shaping it as you see fit. There's very few who are capable of stopping you, your worst impulses as a nation and individual are hardly checked. How could you not fall into excess?" Hungary ventured to look into Austria's eyes now. "It's not a moral failing, please don't take it as such."

An interesting concept. Certainly seemed to be bound in the basis of reality. Still, he knew if it was true then he would be condemned as well. Austria's doubts nagged at him, he wanted her to be proved wrong but not to claim that victory for himself. "Can you give me any specific corruption?"

"Arthur's taste for vengeance turned into cruelty towards those deserving and undeserving. Francis' desire for control led to him successfully taking over a large portion of the world with an iron fist. And you," she paused. He nodded at her, giving her permission to go on. "And your need to be seen above all other's strips you of basic empathy and compassion for those weaker than yourself."

Austria considered that over for a second. He agreed with her on Britain and France. That was easy, accepting the flaws and downfalls of others. How loathe he was to self-reflect that deeply. He longed for counter-examples and wracked his long memory for one. His treatment of Bohemia for wanting to pick a non-Austrian ruler, his browbeating of the Protestant Germans, his repression of any who dissented too forcefully against his authority. He winced. The only recent example he had of benevolence was when Hungary threatened to stage a rebellion he knew she would win. "I suppose I see your point." No longer wanting the spotlight on him, he turned it on her. "Are you worried this will change you like it has the rest of us?"

Hungary chuckled. "No, not in the slightest. I've certainly been elevated, but this is all still yours. My only focus remains on the best interests of myself and my people." She waved a hand dismissively, suppressing a giggle. "I'll let you deal with the Balkans."

He rolled his eyes. How mighty big of her, letting him handle the most quarrelsome aspect of his, of their, lands. "Then why's this been on your mind?" She opened her mouth to protest, but Austria shot her a look. "Don't lie to me. You wouldn't have mentioned this out of nowhere if it wasn't troubling you." He forced his expression to soften. "You've got me interested now."

Erzsébet wrung the skirt of her dress in her hands. She focused intently on the way they messed with the fabric. "I'm worried about him, that's all." She felt the heat of Roderich's irritation rolling off him. She wished to stop herself, but couldn't once the words were out. "An earnest quest for empire, can you believe it? I've already seen it in his eyes. I fear he'll soon be returning to the blood lust he had in the Knights if he continues making war with impunity."

A familiar stab of annoyance hit him in the gut. Strangely, it was mixed with a tang of jealousy over what he didn't have. He bit his tongue until the end, his curiosity piqued. "Are you saying you want him to be put down?" Normally Austria would jump at the opportunity to be the one to do the crushing. His ego stung too much after losing to Prussia in less than two months. With France out of the picture, he had to hope Russia would get brazen.

"Put down is so strong. Beating Denmark was fine. I was displeased by his victory against us, I don't take joy in my men losing their lives and the war, but that was the normal cycle of things." She cleared her throat. "Successfully capturing Paris is another matter."

Austria nodded. This certainly was one of the many things recently troubling him. It was also one of the one's he did not care to discuss. The Prussian was an Icarus, he'd fly too close to the sun soon enough. And Erzsébet would be there to put him back together again when he fell, his insecurities taunted him. "It is, but it doesn't concern our state. He's made this bed and he'll lie in it. Alone."

Erzsébet's expression grew sheepish. "I shouldn't have brought this up, I'm sorry." Talking about this with him was a mistake. She should've confided in Feliks instead.

"Don't be, I asked. It only makes sense you would feel this way." A painful silence lay between them. Austria's fingers itched. A ridiculous part of him longed to impress her. He knew he was being childish, unable to deal with whatever feelings of inadequacy that whole conversation arose. He found himself unable to resist though. "May I play something for you? It always helps take my mind off things."

She shook her head. "Not right now. There's some paperwork I have to get to before the end of the night, you understand. Perhaps if I get finished with it early." Hungary rose and began exiting the room.

Desperation. He hated himself for it. "One second, Erzsi," he hesitated on her nickname. To his relief, she turned around without a hint of discomfort. His eyes focused on her despite how much he wanted to look away. "You're in love with him, still, aren't you?" The question was beyond that though. They both knew Roderich was asking if this - their marriage of equals, his forced kindness turning into genuine tenderness - had changed anything.

Hungary stared out the window. "Ah, that's certainly a question." If he studied her intently, he could notice the slightest of tremors. "My heart belongs to myself." She'd said those words before to a different man. They were as unconvincing then as they were the first time.

"You don't have to lie to me." More plead than request. Austria hated his own weakness.

"It's not you I'm lying to." Her hands returned to fidgeting with her dress. The habit made her look quite girlish. "Once acknowledged, the truth can be quite a dangerous thing. I need you to understand that."

"And if I don't?" His insolence surprised him. He cleared his throat. "What I mean is, it's better to deal with the truth now than to keep kicking it down the line. It only brings forth more pain." Roderich bid himself to be less honest. He didn't care if it made him a hypocrite, he just needed to stop making himself feel so much.

Erzsébet smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, you're not wrong." She met his gaze, steady and strong. "You're quite observant, Roderich. I believe you know the truth. It's not necessary for me to tell you."

He couldn't bear it anymore. Roderich stood and, within a few strides, was before her. He kissed her tenderly, his hands on her hips and softly pulling her towards him. It was futile, but it felt meaningful to him as all last-ditch efforts do. Their whole marriage felt futile, at the point where it was now fraying irreparably, despite their best efforts to change its course. Still, he found himself hoping and wishing to transport that feeling to her.

They parted. Her eyes carried such cruel pity. "You're becoming such a good man, Roderich. I missed this part of you." Her words cut him like a knife. Erzsébet didn't have to add that it was too late. She didn't have to remind him. She kissed him quick.

"I love you." The words game out fast. The first time he'd said them where it felt true. Giddy on the revelation, he offered it in Hungarian. Anything, anything to get the pity out of her eyes. "Please, Erzsi. You used to say it so often."

Erzsébet stepped back. "I did, didn't I?" She bit her lip. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart wouldn't quit aching for him. "I'm sorry, Roderich. You responded too late. It should've been different for us." She watched his heart break before her eyes. She wanted to offer a platitude, offer him something to console him. She'd never seen him this distraught before. She took his hand.

He laughed bitterly. The action was directed at himself, but she still appeared hurt. "How ridiculous. In the beginning, I knew how devoted you were and I didn't care. It irritated me, the goodness in your heart. I rejected you because I saw no benefit to loving you. Now, when you've understandably closed off to this careless monster - please don't disagree, we both know its true - you've been trapped with for all these years, well now I'm able to recognize how extraordinary you are." He smiled, if only to prevent himself from breaking down. "I resented any attempt you made to find the smallest joy in this hell. My deepest desire is now only to see you happy. I'm an idiot." Roderich paused, his voice becoming a whisper. "He makes you happy, doesn't he?"

She listened. Tears welled in her own eyes. The truth of it all hurt, but it needed to be said. She wished she could turn off her feelings, she wished it would be so easy to welcome him back unconditionally into her good graces. Erzsébet had become so used to how things were, she couldn't believe that this new loving behavior wasn't only temporary before things returned to their past resentment. She wanted to avoid his question, but knew she couldn't. She sighed. "He does."

The truth, the bitter truth. He knew it and, yet, he still needed to hear it. "Can't I make you happy instead?"

Erzsébet kissed him, sweet and slow. Roderich found himself still leaning in when there was no longer anyone there. "That would take longer than we have."

"But we have eternity." Begging, begging for her not to do what he knew was coming. She had just so recently entered his world, really entered it. He couldn't imagine being without her now.

"You know what I mean." Eyes downcast. "I don't know how much longer we can stay. But until then, you can try." She stroked his cheek. "I do appreciate the effort." She stepped back and it felt to Roderich like a world was between them. "Please, I need to do my work."

This time he didn't prevent her from leaving. She shut the door behind her and Roderich crumpled to the floor. He cursed himself, he cursed his pride and his disregard for what he'd had for so long. He cursed himself that he would never be able to keep her and that he would never stop performing the Sisyphean task of fighting for her. He'd go down a fool, but maybe now he could take pride in himself for having tried, for giving her a few years where she felt respected and valued. His tears fell and he let them. No, maybe he wouldn’t feel happiness, but to give it to her would be just the same.

#aph austria #hws austria #aph hungary #hws hungary #aushun #aph aushun #hws aushun #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

monabela · 5 years

Text

@eternal-night-owl! hello! this is your gift in the @aphgenficexchange, ft the Baltic trio as childhood friends, and, vaguely, a high school AU... and I guess this counts as historical but proBABLY not in the way you’d expect. for some reason, I decided this had to be set in the nineties. in 1997, to be exact. the setting in terms of location is a nonexistent Generically European location. but uhh expect a lot of denim, and the macarena. and a title referencing friends, because of course :) I hope you like it!

No One Told You

characters: Lithuania (Tolys), Latvia (Raivis), Estonia (Eduard), mentioned Poland (Feliks) and Finland (Tuomi)

word count: 4436 summary: Before Eduard and Tolys graduate from high school and leave their hometown for brighter places, they and their best friend Raivis decide to take a road trip together. It’s not like they’ll never see each other again, but it feels like the end of an age all the same.

“This is a bad idea.”

Tolys receives an unconcerned grin from Eduard over the roof of his mother’s old Škoda. He pulls a pained face back.

“Don’t worry, Tolys, it’ll be fine. Besides, look at it like this; it can’t be worse than when you and Feliks went hitchhiking.”

He promised not to mention that. Tolys groans. Feliks has refused to come with them this time, and he suspects it’s in part because of the hitchhiking disaster, which he’s been trying to forget happened since the minute they were picked up by a truck transporting geese.

“Geese,” he groans out loud. Eduard just grins more, pushing his glasses up. “And anyway, that’s honestly not much of a reassurance. I don’t think it can get worse.”

“Don’t jinx it,” says Raivis, walking out of the garage of Tolys house holding a duffel bag. “Where can I put this?”

Tolys gestures him over to the car so he can put it in the trunk while Eduard ducks into the passenger seat to start fiddling with his eternal cassette tapes. As outraged as he was to find out that the Škoda doesn’t have a cassette deck, he seems to have circumvented it with his own equipment easily. Raivis, meanwhile, has been wearing his Discman headphones around his neck everywhere, generally without the Discman actually attached, because it doesn’t fit in any of his pockets.

They may be Tolys’s first and best friends, but that doesn’t mean he understands them.

His mother comes out of the house after a minute and fusses over them for a while—especially Eduard, who hits his head on the roof of the car for the umpteenth time when he gets out—until Tolys can convince her that they’ll be fine and they’ll call if anything does happen. Here, Eduard proudly shows off his mobile phone, also for the umpteenth time.

He hits his head again when he gets back into the passenger seat and starts to curse before he realizes Tolys’s mother is still watching from the front doorway. Raivis snorts as he climbs into the backseat.

Well, here they go.

He’s certain they prepared their little road trip as well as they could have, but Tolys still feels a little nervous as he takes his place behind the wheel, buckles his seatbelt, and starts the car. For one, he’s never actually driven so far before—and he will have to do all the driving, because neither of his friends have their license yet—and for another, they’ll have to be back in time for his and Eduard’s official graduation from high school, and he knows the three of them. They’re bound to get distracted on the way.

“Relax, Tolys,” Eduard says. “No need the break the wheel.”

Taking a deep breath, he tries to ease his death grip. He’s looking forward to it, so he’s going to have fun.

They drive past Eduard’s house, where his brother and half-sister are waving a little too enthusiastically in the garden, with Tuomi clutching his chest dramatically like Eduard might never return. Eduard ducks his head and starts fiddling with his cassettes.

As they pass Raivis’s house on the corner of the street, where it’s silent, he presses play, and the Rembrandts start blaring through the car.

“I made a mixtape,” Eduard announces. Tolys grins. Raivis claps along from the backseat. Ironically.

There isn’t a set itinerary, but it’s May and all the campsites along the river are open for business, so as long as the weather stays mild, the three of them have nothing to worry about.

Tolys relaxes quickly after they leave town, sings along to Eduard’s mixtape while Raivis pretends to hate the pop songs but can clearly be heard humming along. He pulls his pointy knees up to his chest, where they poke through the holes in his jeans. Eduard, who is presently wearing a multicolored Nirvana shirt underneath a denim jacket, rolls his eyes fondly and reaches over to poke him.

“No sulking over the Backstreet Boys, Raivis.”

“Maybe I’m sulking because you’re here, Eduard. You ever think about that?”

Tolys can’t help but snort.

They’ve been friends practically their entire lives, the three of them, having grown up on the same street, and although they’re steadily growing more and more into vastly different people, they’ve remained close through all of high school. Tolys would trust Raivis and Eduard with his life, if not necessarily with his possessions. They’re like brothers to him in many ways, and as someone who grew up alone with his mother, that’s more than he could have asked for.

The first stop they have to make is a department store off the highway, because Raivis realizes he forgot to pack his hay fever medicine.

They tour through the store as if that’s their entire road trip. Eduard pokes an electronic thing in the toy section that starts singing at him, and he nearly falls over. Tolys wishes he had a camera with him. Well, he did pack the video camera, promising his mother to be very careful with it, but it’s in the car right now.

Somewhere between the medicine aisle and the clothing department, they lose sight of Eduard. When they find him, he’s holding up two graphic T-shirts and looking contemplative, the TL lights reflecting in his glasses.

“Hey guys, what do—”

“No,” says Raivis. “You don’t even watch MTV, Ed.”

Sticking his tongue out, Eduard obediently puts one of the shirts back on the rack. Tolys liked it, really, even if it said ‘Yo! Raps!’ in bright pink letters. The rest of it was a nice blue color. Nevertheless, he’s pretty sure Raivis is right and Eduard doesn’t like hip-hop. At least, not as much as he likes other kinds of music.

The second shirt has the Jurassic Park logo on it, and Tolys has the feeling he’s seen Eduard wearing one exactly like it before, but alright. He puts his hands deep into the pockets of his own overalls.

“We’re not here for you to be a nerd,” Raivis teases.

“We’re not here for you to be an unsupportive friend either,” Eduard shoots back. Raivis smiles.

They go to pay. In the queue for the cash register, after pulling his wallet out of his jeans pocket by the chain attached to it, Eduard picks up a candy bar.

“Hey,” he says, “we should do something reckless like they always do in movies.”

“Dude, you’re not thinking of stealing a candy bar. That’s a terrible idea,” Raivis says, and Tolys is on the verge of protesting the idea as well when he realizes that he doesn’t always have to be the voice of reason.

“I agree, it’s a bad idea. Raivis should do it.” He relishes the incredulous looks he receives. “Ed and I are adults, but if you get caught, you’ll be tried as a minor.”

“I turn eighteen this year,” Raivis grumbles, while Eduard snorts and puts the candy bar on the conveyor belt.

“Maybe we should stick with something reckless that’s less illegal,” he says, and the cashier gives him a withering look that has him pulling a guilty grimace at Tolys and Raivis.

When they finally make it back to the car, Raivis gives it a considering look and starts to say something, but Tolys forestalls him.

“No, neither of you is driving my mother’s car. That’s definitely illegal.”

“Spoilsport. Can I at least have shotgun?”

They both look at Eduard, who is putting the new supplies in the trunk, ducking a little to avoid hitting his head. It’s so strange. He used to be the shortest of the three of them until they were about thirteen, when he suddenly shot up like a weed and started hitting his head on everything. He hasn’t stopped in the five years since.

“Well,” Tolys says, “if you want to talk reckless, that’s definitely it.”

Raivis grins and shoots into the car at top speed.

“Booyah!” he shouts, and Eduard knocks against the roof when he jumps.

“Oh, no, Raivis,” he whines, but Raivis just grins smugly and stretches his legs out, so Eduard is forced to fold his gangly legs into the Škoda’s backseat, from where he digs out a bag of Bugles and starts throwing them at Raivis. Raivis eats them.

“At least put some music on,” Tolys says, so Raivis hands Eduard his cassette deck, and he carefully selects a new tape.

They arrive at a campsite to the Macarena, which even Raivis has given up on pretending he doesn’t know the dance to.

When Tolys has confirmed that they can stay there that night, Eduard leafs through flyers for local attractions in the reception area, happy to stretch his legs, while Raivis searches through the car for the tent.

“Hey,” he says when Tolys walks over to him. “Look, they’ve got geese here.”

“I hate you.”

Chuckling, Raivis turns back to the car and continues dragging the tent out, the poles rattling in the bag. Tolys hopes the thing is complete; last he heard, Eduard’s sister had taken it to some festival, and the music taste in that family sure is… Something. It’s just another way the three of them are completely different. He pulls a hair elastic out of his pocket, pulls his hair away from his face, and sets to work helping the tent get set up.

By the time Eduard saunters over, holding several flyers that he’s probably going to put in one of his scrapbooks, they’re nearly done with the tent, which thankfully isn’t missing anything and looks clean. The last time all three of them slept in it was several years ago, but it was after Eduard’s growth spurt, so Tolys feels pretty confident that they’ll still fit.

“Looks good,” Eduard says.

“You’re going to be the one to break it up tomorrow,” Tolys tells him. He’s not going to get away with hiding at the reception so easily.

“Alright, fine. Look, there’s a pizza place by the river!” He holds one of the flyers up.

They go to the pizza place.

As always, Tolys finds himself in a heated debate with Eduard about whether pineapple is a good topping for pizzas or not—Eduard claims it’s ‘so eighties’, which apparently makes it a bad thing, like he didn’t grow up during the eighties. Raivis gleefully steals slices of their pizzas during this argument, as always.

It’s going to be weird, not being around them so much anymore from next year on. They’ll be on opposite ends of the country, just about, with Eduard going to his fancy university to learn all kinds of nerdy things about computers and whatnot, Tolys hopefully studying to be a nurse, and Raivis finishing high school. Even after that, he probably won’t come either of their ways again, because Raivis has a curious mind and boundless creativity and will be… Who knows, writing a book?

Maybe Tolys should get a mobile phone as well, to stay in touch.

“What are you thinking about?” Eduard asks as they walk back to the campsite. The sun is setting, glinting off the plastic frame of his glasses and the pale hair that covers his forehead.

“Mobile phones,” he replies distractedly, and so he spends the next twenty minutes listening to Eduard raving about technology, not understanding about half the words he says but happy that he’s so passionate about something.

The tent is a nice temperature to sleep in, but it takes some time before they get to it, because Raivis has commandeered Eduard’s cassettes and insists on playing and replaying Wonderwall when he finds it on a tape, while Eduard protests halfheartedly. Tolys, caught in the middle of it, tries to ignore them and read a book. It’s a good thing there are no other campers nearby—it’s too early in the season for that—or he’s sure someone would have come to complain by the seventh rewind. It’s the first time Raivis has managed to stop the cassette exactly at the beginning of the song, preventing them from having to listen to the ending of a No Doubt song again.

“You have to admit Gwen Stefani is hot,” Eduard says.

“I don’t have to admit anything,” Raivis returns. “Tolys, what do you think?”

“I think you two should shut up, is what I think. Didn’t you want to go to that aquarium a few towns over tomorrow? I’m not driving you there if you wake up after noon.”

“Alright, mom,” he says. There’s a lot of shuffling, Oasis clicks off—“rewind the tape!” Eduard hisses—and then, eventually, they settle down.

“Goodnight, guys,” Eduard says.

Raivis pretends to snore demonstratively, and Tolys smiles at the canvas ceiling.

In the morning—barely still in the morning—Eduard manfully drinks coffee, which Tolys knows he hates, Raivis finds out that he also forgot his hair gel after he takes a shower so he makes a detour to the camp site’s little shop, and Tolys finds a sad, flattened candy bar underneath the air mattresses in the tent.

“Eduard can put that in his scrapbook,” Raivis comments, walking by with his hair parted neatly down the middle again.

That doesn’t sound like a very smart idea. Tolys puts it in his pocket and helps Eduard break down the tent despite his threat from yesterday.

They make it to the aquarium by noon. Raivis, again in his ripped jeans and wearing combat boots that seem too warm for the May weather, is suddenly not so concerned about appearing aloof anymore and takes pictures of fish so enthusiastically that his camera roll is full halfway through, but that’s alright, because Eduard apparently carries new ones around in his deep pockets.

“Come on, Raivis, I’ve known you longer than today.”

To be fair, Tolys also spends a long time staring up at the animals in the underwater tunnel, especially the squid sort of hovering by a rock, staring back at him.

Silently, Raivis sits beside him and draws the thing in a sketchbook Eduard was apparently also carrying around. Tolys bets he also has bandages and painkillers and pens rattling around in those pockets. Eduard is like that.

“Man,” says the boy in question, over their heads, “that thing is giving me the wiggins. Oh, hey, that’s a good drawing, it’s just as creepy.”

“Thanks,” Raivis says. He catches Tolys’s eye and shrugs, obviously amused.

“Are you guys hungry? I’m really hungry.”

“Yeah.” Raivis closes the sketchbook and looks up at Eduard. “Fish, I think?”

Fish, of course. But first, Tolys buys a mood ring shaped like a dolphin from the aquarium’s gift shop and watches it indicate that he’s… Somewhere between angry and sad, he thinks. Oh well.

“They don’t even have dolphins,” Eduard says, inspecting the ring. “Oh, this is like those shirts we all wore when we were like twelve. You know, the ones that changed color?”

“You were the only one who wore those, Ed,” Raivis replies. He’s rolled the sleeves of his plaid shirt up to his elbows, but looks quite warm all the same. From experience, Tolys knows he won’t take the shirt off, so he leaves it alone.

After they eat fish, they realize they don’t have a place to spend the night yet, and Tolys had enough of camping out in the wild with Feliks last year, so they pile back into the Škoda and drive around for a while looking for a campsite. He refuses to drive back to where they came from—because then what’s the point of a road trip?—and eventually, they end up quite a lot further up the river, where the landscape already starts to get more hilly as it leads up to the mountains in the north.

“We should go skiing sometime,” Eduard says, looking out over the campsite they choose as if he can see the mountains. It’s a beautiful spot, on the banks of a brook leading to the river, the grass blindingly green in the evening sun. Raivis huffs.

“You know we can’t afford that, Ed.”

He smiles softly. “Maybe not now.”

“Can you guys help me with this tent?” Tolys shouts.

The next day, with Eduard somehow having woken up at the crack of dawn and freaking Tolys and Raivis out by being unfindable for a good two hours, Raivis really gets stuck on the idea of doing something reckless.

“I should get a piercing,” he says, and Tolys says, “No, you shouldn’t,” and Eduard says, “Oh, I kinda want a tongue piercing.”

“You what?” Tolys swivels his head around to stare at him from where he’s eating the bread rolls his friend was buying at the local bakery while he was still asleep.

“Yeah.” He grins, showing teeth. “Tuomi got a tattoo, you know, when he turned eighteen.”

“Yes, but Tuomi is…” He waves his hand around, throwing crumbs everywhere on the grass. Something catches his eye, and he thrusts his hand in his friends’ direction. “Look, the ring says it’s a bad idea. I’m upset.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess we have to listen to what your ring says. Not!”

“Well, I’m not driving you there.”

After a fight for the car keys when both Raivis and Eduard insist they’ll drive themselves, thank you very much—which ends with Tolys shoving the keys into his overalls—the two of them grumpily decide to walk into town, leaving Tolys to clean up the tent. He hopes they don’t actually get holes poked into themselves, but you never know with them. They’re somehow always bringing out the most recalcitrant side of each other, egging each other on. No one ever believes Tolys when he tells them this, because everyone knows Raivis and Eduard as quiet, polite guys.

They are, but they’re also teenage boys and trying to be cool in their own ways.

This is nice, too. Quiet. No Spice Girls or No Doubt blaring. Just the water and the birds.

Tolys’s mood ring tells him he’s still upset.

What a great buy.

Raivis comes back a few hours later without a piercing but with his hair dyed black. It’s still styled the same way, but now paints a stark contrast with his light eyebrows, and there are smudges of dye all along his hairline and on his ears.

“Oh, this is way worse.” Tolys pushes his hands through his own shoulder-length hair.

“No, it’s not; your ring says you’re happy.”

“My ring says you’re an idiot, is what is says.”

Raivis just grins. “Wait till you see Ed.”

Tolys groans. They should have done this last year, before he and Eduard turned eighteen, because he swears being a legal adult has made his friend more childish somehow.

“Come on, Tolys,” Raivis says, softer. “You don’t always have to be the responsible one. Everybody already knows you’re a great guy, including us. We’re not going to stop thinking that if you do something dumb every once in a while.”

Smiling slightly, Tolys leans against the hood of the car. He’s going to miss Raivis. Underneath all the plaid and combat boots and black hair, he’s the most sensitive one out of the three of them, and also the one who’s been through the most trouble in his life. He’s the silent little boy that brought them together in the first place, alone on his front stoop and looking decidedly lost there.

“Was the mood ring not dumb enough?”

Raivis laughs, sits on the hood next to him. The smell of hair dye wafts over.

“Behold!” comes Eduard’s voice from up the slope. Tolys closes his eyes for a second, bracing himself. “Does anyone have some ice water?”

Oh, god.

“Stop sticking your tongue out, Ed,” Tolys says when they finally get on the road again, having recovered a little from the fact that he actually went and got his tongue pierced. “People are going to think you’re being rude to them.”

From the passenger seat, Eduard sticks his tongue out at him.

“It feels weird.”

“I could’ve predicted that.”

“Are we there yet?” Raivis asks from behind him, mock-whiny.

“The ring says no,” Eduard replies. They don’t even know where they’re going other than further north.

Tolys snorts. “The ring says you’re both idiots and I don’t know why you’re my friends.”

That earns him a chorus of booing and some Bugles thrown at his head from where they were lying on the floor under the passenger seat.

They stop at a gas station, because Eduard is hungry again and because the car needs gas, and find a flyer advertising a nearby hiking trail, which they decide to take a look at. It’s good weather for hiking, and at least Raivis’s boots are suitable for it.

The area is beautiful, too, and Raivis takes lots of pictures again. Tolys hauls the video camera up into the hills, checks that there’s tape in it at Eduard’s insistence—“we don’t have any footage of my sister’s band because we forgot once”—and captures some of the hike, including the view over a brook they find as Eduard splashes through it with his Converses in hand, getting even his Crystal Pepsi shirt wet but grinning, and himself and Raivis belting out Barbie Girl at top volume.

Tolys is Barbie, because he has long hair, apparently.

“And a mood ring,” Eduard adds sagely.

And a mood ring. Tolys suspects that’s going to be what he’ll always remember of this trip. Eduard’s piercing, Raivis’s dye job, and his mood ring.

He loves it.

That night, Tolys wakes up when it’s still dark outside, and blinks blearily at his nearly invisible surroundings.

Raivis is gone.

There is shuffling outside, the stones on the path leading up to their new campsite scrunching. Eduard breathes deeply and steadily on the other side of Raivis’s mattress.

After a minute, Tolys goes outside, wrapping his sleeping bag around his shoulder to ward off the chill of the night. It’s not really summer yet.

“Hey,” Raivis says from where he’s sitting on the hood of the Škoda, knees pulled up to his chest and bare feet against the yellow paint. His hair looks like an ink stain in the darkness.

“Hey. Be careful with that car, hm?” Tolys sits next to him. “It’s almost an antique.”

Raivis lets out a puff of air. “So are you.”

“Don’t be rude to senior citizens, young man.” He nudges his shoulder against Raivis’s. “What’s up?”

For a while, it’s silent, and the two of them just look out over the hills, at the shadows of the mountains in the distance and the vast garden of stars overhead, brighter here than even in their small town. Eduard snorts in the tent.

“Just a dream,” Raivis eventually says. “Could’ve been worse.”

Tolys hums. “It’s gotten better, hasn’t it? The past years?”

“Yeah, definitely.” A pause. “I’m going to miss you. You and Eduard.”

He glances at Raivis, who’s now tilting his head back and looking at the sky, his skin very pale in contrast with his newly dark hair. He’s wearing an overlarge sweater Eduard got him for his birthday ages ago—his fourteenth, maybe?—that has Mariah Carey’s face on it. For some reason. Tolys can’t even see it; he knows it’s there.

“I’m going to miss you two as well. It’ll be weird.” He sighs, drags his fingers through the dust on the car. “You guys are like brothers to me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too. I mean, I’ve got other friends, but it’s…”

“It’s different.”

The zipper of the tent.

“What’s going on here?” Eduard asks, sounding extra bleary because of his thick tongue. Out of the corner of his eye, Tolys sees Raivis smile as his friend lies back, resting his head against the windshield, which is probably a bad idea, but it doesn’t matter all of a sudden.

“A party,” he tells Eduard, “for cool people.”

“Guess you should come back inside, then.”

Raivis laughs, sounding carefree.

On his way back into the tent, grumbling about the cold, Eduard trips over a guy-line, and Tolys starts laughing as well. He lies down on the hood of the Škoda and looks at the stars.

They try to prank call Eduard’s brother from a payphone the next day, but they run out of money to throw into the thing halfway through, and anyway Eduard keeps giggling in the background, so he probably didn’t fall for it.

A while later, when his mobile phone rings, Eduard pulls a face at it and doesn’t pick up.

“Tolys’s ring says you’re a coward,” Raivis says, sounding dead serious.

“Tolys’s ring should know that Tuomi is kind of scary when he wants to be.”

That’s true.

Somehow, Eduard still hasn’t run out of mixtapes. Tolys’s favorite is the one he’s titled ‘That’s So Pizza Hawaii’, which apparently refers to songs from their childhood, and also the Rembrandts, who are on every single cassette. When asked why, Eduard just grins.

“Is it ‘cause we’re friends?” Raivis asks from the backseat, grabbing Eduard’s baseball cap off his head.

“I don’t know, what does the ring say? Give that back.”

“The ring is withholding comment,” Tolys tells them. And, “Ed, don’t— Keep your seatbelt on. Come on, I’m not your mother.”

Eduard sticks his tongue out again. It’s probably good Tolys isn’t his mother, because the poor woman is going to freak when she sees that piercing.

They barely make it back in time for the official graduation, in the end, going to their high school without stopping by any of their houses first, so Eduard is wearing an Aerosmith shirt and baggy jeans with one leg rolled up and Tolys had to borrow Raivis’s Mariah Carey sweater because someone spilled their energy drink on his own clothes—thanks, Raivis.

As Tolys drives through the town, Eduard fumbles with his cassettes until he finds the last one, forwards through another round of I’ll Be There For You, and grins when the second song starts playing, obviously proud that he captured no talking from the radio show host.

“So deep,” Raivis says, smiling, and he doesn’t even pretend he doesn’t know how it goes as they pull up to their high school.

“Mmmbop!” Eduard shouts.

“Du ba dop, ba du bop,” Tolys and Raivis chorus, and then all three of them are singing through laughter, startling several passersby.

“Du ba dop, ba du bop, du ba dop, ba du, yeah!”

They’ll never forget them in this town.

15 notes · View notes

gnostic-heretic · 5 years

Note

ahh I'm Late but if you still wanna do the thing ^-^ pruspol with 'decorations'? 😅

“Is all of this really necessary?”Gilbert stares at the place that used to be his living room, covered in flashing lights, snow-covered reindeers, and dozens of eeriely realistic reproductions of Santa. “Absolutely,” is Feliks’ much expected reply. “And that’s not even all of it.”With a smirk, he retrieves a remote from his pocket, and Gilbert’s heart fills up with fear. Poland presses a button on it. A few seconds of tension follow, enhanced by the absolute silence and the red lights that illuminate the walls. So much tension, expectation, and yet nothing happens. Prussia sighs. “What are you even talk-”

A loud jingle fills the house suddenly. Gilbert can immediately recognize the tune of Oh Tannenbaum.From the corridor comes a screeching mechanical noise: him and Feliks are soon joined in the living room (or ex-living room, now turned into Santa’s hideout) by a creepy penguin toy that walks slowly in front of them.Gilbert’s desire to kick something has never been stronger.“Do you like him? I think he looks like you.”He stares into the penguin’s hollow eyes of glass, and the void stares back into his soul. “I don’t think so.”“What, no way! And I was thinking about naming him Gilbert!”The real, human Gilbert snaps. “No. There can only be one of us.”“Then,” Poland says with a teasing smile on his face, “get out, or kiss me.”

12 notes · View notes

sleeplesspensieve · 6 years

Text

Remedy For Guilt - X

Summary: The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange is a Healer who finds herself not only haunted by her past but also questioning her choice in career. When Lyra Lestrange’s old headmaster offers her a position as Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher she finds herself thrown into an adventure involving a secret affair with a colleague, discovering the cure for a disease and dealing with students cursing themselves. Who knew that being a Hogwarts Professor was such a rollercoaster?

Set in the school year of 1990-1991 with the prospect of a sequel, or two, on the horizon.

Rated: E for graphic sex scenes in THIS and later chapters. Over 18′s only please.

Word Count: 3320

Multichapter Fic (Expected to be around 30-35 chapters with a planned sequel which will take place during the Harry Potter Books)

Chapter Ten – Back To Hogwarts

On New Year’s Day Lyra shared breakfast with her old friends and they made promises that they would remain in contact in the months to come. They parted ways, all of them leaving via the Floo Network. Their visit had spurred on Narcissa’s encouragement towards finding a husband with a strong suggestion that Ilya would be great for her. He was a strong, well mannered man from an affluent family with a job similar to her Uncle’s, if they ended up together she wouldn’t have to a work a day in her life much like Narcissa. Lyra was amused at her Aunt’s suggestion knowing that Ilya was in fact with Feliks and that she was more career driven.

The remaining four days of Lyra’s holidays went by quickly and without incident. She still hadn’t heard back from Severus which at that point in time was more unnerving than disappointing. What if he just wanted to end it all and they would just lose the friendship they had built over the past four months? Lyra didn’t allow herself to dwell on these negative thoughts, instead she focused on spending time with her family, even listening to the rubbish her Uncle spouted about recent rumours.

When the time finally came for her departure Draco began to weep. His display of emotions was scolded by his parents, “Men that are pure simply do not cry.” Draco settled as Lyra gave him a tight hug and a kiss with promises that she would come back soon and write to him whenever it was possible.

Hogwarts was as empty as Lyra had left it. She expected for some of the students to have returned by now with the majority arriving back over the weekend but she was incorrect. She made her way back to her classroom with the want to prepare for the classes to come. As she walked around the Serpentine corridor she bumped into the Potions Master.

“Ah, Severus,” she said, “How has your holidays been?”

“Dull,” he said plainly. “Would you like me to help you carry your things?”

“Sure,” she replied.

The two walked around, passing by a few students on the way. She suspected this was his reasoning behind the offer but she still found it strange that she needed to justify her public appearances with Severus. They arrived at her classroom and entered, going up the stairs to her office. Severus set her suitcase down and she leaned on her desk, watching on.

“So,” she said rather dramatically. Severus’ brows rose, prompting her to continue. “What’s the plan?”

“The plan?”

“The plan,” she emphasised. “Do you want me or not, Severus?”

“More than you know,” he said.

“Was I right?” she asked, her tongue darting out from between her lips.

He smirked, “Why don’t you tell me?” He approached her and grabbed her hand, sliding it to the front of pants. She felt his erection straining against the material. Her stomach filled with warmth as she knew that she was the one responsible for his arousal.

Lyra pulled out her wand, directing it at the door and locking it. Severus leaned over the witch who was sitting on her desk and kissed her. Lyra returned the kiss with the same passion and ferocity that her partner was portraying. She melted into his embrace as his hands began fidgeting with her clothing, desperate to undress her.

“Are you going to fuck me over my own desk?” she asked.

“It’s payback for making me think about fucking you every night that’s passed,” he said as he pulled her top off. “Now every time you’re grading papers you can think of me bringing you to orgasm.”

Severus kissed the newly revealed skin which was covered in goosebumps as it was exposed to the cold air in her office. Lyra’s eyes drifted closed as she savoured his touch, his mouth exploring the tops of her breasts whilst his hands sat on her waist. One hand moved delicately up her back and undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts. Her erect nipples were warmed by the heat of his mouth, his tongue and teeth teasing one whilst the other was fondled by his hand.

Severus attempted to undo her pants with the free one but required two. He pulled both her pants and underwear off in one simple movement. Lyra was at the mercy of her old Potions Professor as she found herself completely exposed whilst he was still dressed. The thought aroused her slightly which he discovered as he removed himself from his kisses and dipped his fingers between her folds. Severus smirked as she watched her blush from the revelation that she was already completely soaked.

Severus knelt down, wanting to taste the wanton witch. Lyra moaned as his head buried itself between her legs, his tongue lapping up her arousal. It darted in and out briefly before moving up and licking around her clitoris. Lyra leaned back, finding it difficult to hold her body up. She surrendered to his touch. Severus’ fingers found their way inside her and began to pump in and out, driving the young witch insane. He smirked in amusement against her sex, continuing to tongue her clitoris.

It felt like she was on fire, the heat spreading from her pussy all the way through her body. The sensations just got more intense as time went on. Her hips edged closer towards him, arching her back off the table, desperate for more. Severus moved his fingers in and out of her at a faster and steadier tempo triggering her unravelling. Lyra unconsciously bucked her hips back against his face and fingers to drive herself closer to her orgasm.

With a loud moan, Lyra fell apart at the work of his hands and mouth. Her body twitched slightly as she came down. Severus stood up and admired the aftermath of her orgasm, her beauty as she was splayed out on her desk. A few moments passed before she regained her senses and sat up on her desk.

“Severus Snape on his knees for a witch,” she teased.

“Don’t tease me,” he said, “Or I’ll be relentless.”

“How so?” she said, her hand drifted towards his unattended erection.

Wordlessly, Severus undid his trousers, unleashing his cock that had been waiting for Lyra. He pushed her legs back open and pressed it into her with one swift movement. He fucked her hard, ignoring her wants and instead focusing on the way she felt around him. Lyra quickly fell back, gripping the desk above her head as he drilled her into it. She had been surprised at his entrance but the dominance he asserted over her was welcomed as she found herself getting close to another orgasm. Severus reached down and pinched her nipples, enjoying how she looked as she writhed underneath him.

Lyra’s eyes were squeezed tight as she became overwhelmed with the simultaneous stimulation of her nipples and her pussy. She felt her pussy tighten, gripping desperately onto Severus’ cock as it rhythmically moved in and out. Her orgasm came once again and the pulsating sensation drove Severus to come deeply inside of her.

He lingered inside her for a moment, enjoying the feel of her around him and the look of bliss on Lyra’s face. He pulled out, tucking his manhood away and zipped up his pants which stirred the witch from her peace. “I’ll see you at the meeting,” he said as he showed himself out.

The woman shook her head at her lover’s remark as he left her naked on her desk with his semen spilling out of her. She got up and went through her discarded clothes looking for her wand. She found it on the floor and cleaned up the mess Severus had left her with. Lyra showered once she had finished, preparing to look somewhat decent for the staff meeting that had been scheduled for that evening.

On her way out Lyra ran into Septima Vector whose classroom resided next to hers. She hoped that the Arithmancer hadn’t heard through the walls of what occurred just moments before but their conversation didn’t show any indication that she did. They talked of what occurred over their break, Septima detailing her participation in the latest research into the magical properties of prime numbers. Lyra was thankful when they finally arrived at the staff room, taking a seat between Minerva and Severus.

The staff meetings held at Hogwarts tended to be more casual in nature, the staff members listening as the Headmaster detailed the plans for the year before carrying on merrily drinking and catching up with one another. This meeting seemed to be a bit more serious in nature as Madam Pomfrey was whispering in Dumbledore’s ear as they awaited for the remainder if the teachers. Once they had arrived, Albus stood to address the teachers.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile, “I hope you all are well rested and ready to get back into teaching. We’ve received a draft timetable for both the OWLs and NEWTs that will take place in June so please bare this in mind. I hope our students will be well prepared for what is to come.”

“Now, on a more serious matter, Madam Pomfrey has informed me that there have been a few cases of Psyrot in the wizarding community over the past few weeks so we must be prepared and vigilant as students may be affected. I will let Madam Pomfrey explain.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Poppy said before taking the stage. “Psyrot is an extremely contagious disease that can result in death. Thankfully it is easily managed by the standard cold treatment, Pepper-Up, during its initial stages. You must look out for the following symptoms.”

Poppy raised her wand and a blackboard appeared, detailing the symptoms of Psyrot. “They have been split into three different stages. Stage One is when it is most contagious and is spread through the exchange of mucus so please prevent students from kissing and ensure proper hygiene is used when sneezing and coughing. Tiredness, nausea and irritability are all also symptoms of the disease. Stage Two may cause the affected to have diarrhoea, vomiting and sensitivity to light. They may also be confused and or pass out.”

“Finally there is Stage Three, which I hope we will not see as these symptoms are untreatable and there is no cure for it. These symptoms include cold shivers, pale skin, headaches, rash and convulsions. I have already sent out information sheets to all parents and hopefully there will be no one bringing it into the school but we can only hope. I ask you all to stay aware of the condition of your students and send them to me if you see any sign that a student may even be the slightest bit sick. Also, Severus, Lyra, could you two please assist me with preparing some pepper up and sleeping draught? I don’t want to run out.”

Lyra nodded with a genuine look of concern, she spotted Severus’ head nod curtly from the side of her vision. Once they had finished eating the two of them headed down to the dungeons in order to start preparing.

“Have you heard of Psyrot before?” Severus asked.

“Yeah,” she said, her face strained as she thought back. “It was back in the healing history classes, I don’t think a case has popped up since the 1890’s and back then it was pretty debilitating. If you can stop it early on its fine but a lot of people who got to the second or third stage were left to die until they found that the sleeping draught actually helps the body recover during second stage. From memory kids and the elderly didn’t usually develop past the first stage so the people most at risk are the older students and you and me. But the whole case was pretty well documented because it held likeness to the muggle Spanish flu which to only seemed to kill those with a well working immune system. It probably has something to do with the body’s reaction to the disease.”

“Any idea what causes it?”

“Honestly, it could be anything,” she said, pondering for a moment. “I mean it’d have to be something small enough to not be noticed when you sneeze. It could be a bacterium or virus which denatures with the increase of temperature when you take the pepper up, much like the common cold but it could also be a parasite that was small and when it fully matures you can’t kill it as easily.”

“You’d be good at research,” he commented, “Have you ever thought about pursuing it further?”

“Yeah,” she said with a half frown, “It’s just a matter of finding someone in research to take me on as an apprentice. My last name has been a major struggle, it deters anyone within the UK from taking me on, I’m guessing because they think I’ll use the Dark Arts and create some fucked up disease and release it onto the world but yeah, I’m really interested in developing cures for diseases and curses.”

“Why don’t you just change your last name?”

“I did try once but someone ruined that,” she laughed, “I want to change its reputation. I don’t want people to think of what my parents did but instead what progress I can bring to the healing world. If that doesn’t work then I suppose I’ll be rid of it when I finally get married.”

“Did Lucius speak to you about what happened?”

Lyra sighed, “Yeah, he did. He gave me a lecture about my obligations as a Lestrange, that I shouldn’t be messing around with you and so on, which was obviously a very effective talk.” Lyra smirked at her companion but he didn’t seem amused by her comment “They seemed to back off from the topic of marriage when some of my old friends from Durmstrang came over.”

“Durmstrang?” His eyebrows rose questioningly.

“Yeah, they were in the neighbourhood so they came around on New Year’s,” she said, “Don’t worry, we didn’t go around using the Dark Arts and killing every muggle in sight.”

Lyra’s humour seemed to be lost on Severus because he was more concerned at the prospect of losing what he had with her. It would be so easy for her to find a more appropriate man, both in age and heritage, to be with as she had those connections to Durmstrang. Why was she wasting her time with him? Was it merely because they were at Hogwarts and he was there? A witch that was as talented and gorgeous as Lyra wouldn’t settle for a man like Severus. He thought that he may as well enjoy the time that he had with her and not dwell on the future too much.

Their conversation died out after Lyra’s comment, she sensed that Severus just wasn’t in the right mindset for jokes. When the two finally arrived at the potions classroom the pair set off to work, brewing large batches of Pepper Up and Sleeping Draught. Severus instructed Lyra on how to properly translate the recipe to a bigger size as merely multiplying the ingredients wouldn’t work.

“I never knew you’d have to add stabilising ingredients if you wanted to increase the quantity drastically,” she said, “I usually work with small batches.”

“Usually we don’t teach it because the shelf life of a potion is usually rather small so making such a big batch is only useful for commercial purposes,” Severus explained.

“That’s really interesting,” she said as she stirred her potion. “I’d love to do some more training with a Potioneer. It’d be so useful with healing and creating antidotes.”

“I can teach you, if you wish,” he replied.

“I’ll repay you in sex,” she laughed.

“Seems like a fair deal,” he smirked.

The hours it took to brew the potions seemed to tick by so quickly. It was past midnight by the time the two had finished brewing, then they had to bottle it all which took another hour despite having magic on their side. Lyra seemed to be struggling to keep her eyes open.

“You should go to bed,” Severus suggested, “I can finish this up myself.”

“I don’t know if I can even make it to my room,” she yawned.

“I know you’re just trying to get in my bed,” he said.

“Is it working?” she asked, sliding the sleeve of her dress down.

“I can’t resist your shoulders,” he said in a bored tone.

“No man can,” she smiled, “How about you fuck me to sleep again?”

“Fine,” he said, “But you need to help me clean up before then.”

Severus had never seen a witch clean so quickly and efficiently all with a wave of her wand. Lyra’s magic would rival a house elf’s. The bottles were neatly aligned, the cauldrons were scrubbed clean and the ingredients used packed away nicely. If only his students had the ability to clean up as thoroughly after themselves.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” he asked.

“As a pureblood witch,” Lyra started mocking her Aunt’s tone, “It is my duty to be a well trained wife, adept at cooking and cleaning. Now I know, you may be thinking, shouldn’t my husband have a house elf, well yes but it is still important to learn the art of homemaking.”

“Is that what Narcissa taught you?”

“Of course,” she said as the pair exited the room. “Could imagine my mother passing that on to me? No, I think she’d be encouraging me to follow the Dark Lord and not worrying about marriage. I know she never wanted to get married, not even have me.” They walked a short distance to his office and Lyra pushed the door open.

Severus sympathised with the girl, for he also knew what it was like to have parents that seemed to not have wanted you. He had felt as though he was a mistake, he suffered abuse at the hands of his father and much like Lyra struggled with the burden of his family name. Perhaps this was why he felt such a strong connection to Lyra, he felt as though she would be able to understand him. Though their lives seemed vastly different on the surface there were threads beneath that connected them.

“At least your parents love you,” he said, the words had just slipped out.

Lyra found his statement saddening, understanding the implication behind his words that he may have not been loved fully by his parents. She felt curiousity overwhelm her as she found a question escaping her lips. “How about your parents?” Lyra cringed when she realised she had asked, Severus’ face remained blank. “I’m sorry, I’m not entitled to know, you don’t have to share anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

“My mother died,” he explained, “At the hands of my father. It happened while I was at school, during my sixth year. They used to fight a lot, I’m assuming it escalated when I wasn’t there and she wound up dead. He was arrested and is now in prison.”

“I’m sorry, Sev,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look and squeeze on the shoulder.

“I didn’t tell you so you could pity me,” he snapped, “I’m not some puppy you can take care of, Lily.” Lyra’s hand drifted away as Severus realised what he said. “You can go.”

“Sev,” she began.

“Get out!” he yelled.

Lyra obeyed, not wishing to fight him or force the issue. It was obvious to her that she inadvertently touched upon a nerve, revealing issues that had been buried underneath the surface for a long time. She understood that he would require space to process what happened but what she didn’t understand was why she was crying.

#severus snape #fanfiction #harry potter #original character #hogwarts #fanfic #lyra lestrange #oc

1 note · View note

usuknetwork · 6 years

Text

USUK Christmas Countdown 2017: December 20

Title: Of Ugly Sweaters and New Friends Day 8: Baking/Cooking Summary: Arthur has a crush on school poster boy Alfred, and in order to get closer to him, he decides to join the Baking Club, because they share a similar passion for the kitchen. Rating: PG Warning: None

(Written by: @apanphanfanwithaplan and Art by: @kurisutythehero)

High school consisted of three main things is what Arthur always thought. People, parties, and clubs.

He himself was a part of several clubs, such as the Magic Club, Model UN, and Gardening Club. Not very interesting hobbies, people always thought, but they were his.

He had friends, like Lukas Bondevik and Francis Bonnefoy. No matter how annoying the latter was, they were friends, and friends introduced friends to cute new boys in Model UN.

Alfred F. Jones was five feet, six inches tall, had a nest of messy blond hair, and god, was he loud. He carried a somewhat authoritative aura that clashed with his impulsive personality and made Arthur Kirkland fall head over heels. He was the new captain of the football team, America in Model UN, student council President, and part of the Baking Club.

The Baking Club was not for kids like Alfred. Kids like Alfred joined sports teams and played the trumpet. Kids in the Baking Club were like Feliciano Vargas and Feliks Lukasiewicz and Emma Maes, who were sweet and kind and as soft as their desserts. But all desserts had their secret ingredients, and Alfred's was his real personality.

Alfred thought only the Baking Club understood who he really was and how different he was, because he definitely was not like the other ‘jocks'. He helped at his grandmother’s animal shelter on weekends, cheered for his brother at chess matches on Wednesday, went to baking Tuesdays and Thursdays, and did football on Mondays and Fridays. He played flute in band, was in HRC in Model UN, and picked up trash around school as president of his peers during school hours. All in all, he was absolutely perfect, and it gained him a one way ticket to Arthur’s heart.

And now, Francis was teasing Arthur endlessly at lunchtime.

“Get your eyes off Captain America over there and onto your pizza. You haven’t even touched your grapes yet! I swear, Artie, if I wasn’t your bestest friend, I would seriously be supes worried,” the Frenchman complained.

“Okay, one, shut up, and two, who said you’re my bestest friend?”

“Who bailed you out of jail when you had some fun at that amusement park?”

“Okay, yeah, but that was holding. There’s a difference. So shut up.”

“Besides, who else would be your best friend? Lukas? He spends more time with that weird Lego Robotics kid. What about that vampire? You still friends with him?”

“Vladimir isn’t a vampire, he’s just Romanian.”

“Yeah, right. And there’s something in the Kool-Aid making us gay.”

“That’s it, for once, you’re right. I need new friends. I’m joining the Baking Club!”

“Not to interrupt your ‘starting today I’m going to be a host' moment, but last time you ‘baked', you set the kitchen on fire. You were literally heating ramen in the microwave, and you burnt my house down!”

“Is that why you stopped inviting me over for sleepovers? Just because I burnt your house down? I said sorry!”

“We’re getting off topic. So, how are you going to get loverboy to love you back?”

Arthur blushed a deep shade of crimson at that.

“Hopefully my charm will take over if not my obviously amazing cooking skills.”

“Arthur, you’re my best friend, so I’ll say it one more time, just to get it through your thick skull. YOU BURNT MY KITCHEN DOWN MAKING RAMEN, YOU PRICK!”

“Details, details.”

And with that he walked off to sign up for the Baking Club.

Soon enough, Arthur had signed up, the rest of the school day had passed, and he was standing at the door for Baking Club, which was covered in mistletoe and holly in celebration of the Christmas season, it being mid-December.

Definitely not the kind of club he thought he’d ever join, but here he was.

He gently rapped on the door and pondered if it was too late to run away when none other than his reason for joining this stupid club answered the door in a super cheesy Minnie and Mickey ugly sweater.

“Hey! Arthur, man, I didn’t think you were into clubs like this! Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

He grabbed Arthur’s ugly-sweatered wrist and dragged him in, and he saw the kindest club in school in all of their ugly-sweatered glory.

“This is Feliciano Vargas, whose specialty is cannoli!”

A young man with dark brown hair and an obnoxious curl in a two person sweater with a blond male waved energetically.

“And this is Emma Maes, and her main dish is waffles with boysenberry syrup and strawberries inside, and she’ll be adding some extra stuff to her usual waffles today for holiday stuffsies!”

A girl with mid-length blonde hair and a kind smile wearing a punk sweater the same colour as the patterned blue and black bow in her hair waved nicely, and then turned back to her measuring cups and holly.

“Here’s Ludwig Beilschmidt, who’s a little grumpy, but really nice when you get to know him, and he loves to make bread pudding, and he’s making a plum one today for the Christmas celebration, which isn’t as terrible as it sounds!”

The tall stoic guy next to Feliciano and in the couple’s sweater with him calmly waved and smiled ever so slightly.

“Feliks Lukasiewicz, my man! He specializes in making this thing, it’s like funnel cake! You know what funnel cake is, right Artie?”

Arthur nodded.

“What’s it called again, bro?”

Feliks, who was wearing a slightly less dramatic sweater than the others, rolled his eyes and sighed, flipping his blond hair from his eyes. “I’ve told you like, at least five times, Al! It’s called skruzdelynas! It’s a Lithuanian dessert, and yes, it is like funnel cake, I suppose.”

“I don’t know how to pronounce that, so Feliks specializes in funnel cake, and he’s making a cherry one with powdered sugar today for Christmas!”

“Ugh, you could, y’know, at least try!” called the Pole to Alfred as he went on to introduce the other members.

“Love you too, bro!”

“Ugh, whatever.”

“Is he actually your brother?” Arthur asked Alfred.

“Who? Feliks? Nah. My brother is Matthew, and he’s at a chess meeting today. He’s got a tournament tomorrow! So proud of him. But his twin is in this club, and my twin is in Swim Team. Which brings me to our next member… Madeline!”

A shy girl with pigtails and a red beret with maple leaf hair clips who greatly resembled her brother Matthew waved a little before looking back down at what she was doing.

“Maddie is the beeessstttt at maple pops!”

“Maple pops?”

“Yeah! And maple donuts! And maple bacon biscuits! Just a lot of maple, I guess. I don’t know where she gets it.”

He lowered his voice.

“But between you and me, I think she has a dealer.”

Arthur had to stifle a laugh.

Only Alfred would think his own sister had a maple drug dealer.

To his surprise, Madeline, in her The Nightmare Before Christmas sweater, laughed at that. “Alfred, mom and dad and Matthew have all told you, there is no dealer! We can talk about this later, I’m making muffins.”

“Fine. Bye sis!”

“She seems nice and calm, at least for being related to you,” Arthur laughed out.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Eyebrows? What if I said your brothers were pretty sober, at least compared to you?”

“Then I'd call you a liar.”

Alfred laughed, and it made Arthur think of home.

“Annnndddd last but not least, in our fabulous baking club, we have our longest here members, Antonio and Matthias! Toni is best at chocolate flan, and Matthias here rocks at making rice pudding with cherry sauce, and he’s even adding sugar plants to it!”

Matthias waved politely in his stoner themed sweater, but then looked back determinedly to his pudding, which he was decorating with edible sugar holly.

“Hey, Arthur! I haven’t seen you since forever man!” Antonio, himself, in an incredibly tacky sweater, waved and spoke cheerfully to him.

“Oh, hello, Antonio. Fancy seeing you here,” Arthur spoke quietly.

“What’s wrong Artie? Did you two have an argument or something?” Alfred asked, puzzled.

“Hmm? Oh no. We’re just old friends. We used to play pirates on playgrounds, but we kinda grew apart, I guess,” Arthur said to him sadly.

“Well now, since you’re in the same club, you can grow back together as friends! Wouldn’t that be awesome?” Alfred asked excitedly.

Arthur smiled at his enthusiasm.

“Totally.”

The tour of everyone in Baking Club was now over and Arthur finally got to sit down and start baking his own something. Scones were always his favourite. And Alfred mentioned something about liking boysenberries, so boysenberry scones it was.

For an hour or two, he sat there in his area making and cooking scones, just for Alfred. These had to be perfect, because he probably wouldn’t get another shot to impress him.

Francis was right, he thought. I can’t cook, and I certainly am not handsome enough for the likes of Alfred, he sighed sadly.

Soon enough, the scones were done, and with only minimal burning!

“Al, Alfred?” he called out.

Alfred was over there in a heartbeat.

“Something wrong, Arthur?” He sounded worried.

“No, no, I just, uh, I made you some scones?” he stuttered out.

“For me? Really?”

“Yeah. I heard you say something about boysenberries, and I kinda suck at anything but scones, so here’s some boysenberry scones, I guess.” He sheepishly handed him the plate of scones.

Alfred cautiously picked one up and took a bite. He first made a slight face of disgust, then corrected himself. “Wow, these are pretty good!”

Arthur frowned. “You hate them. I suck at baking. Sorry.”

Alfred looked upset at Arthur being sad. “No, no! These can get better with just a little bit of improvement! Here, I can help you!”

Alfred went over to Arthur’s cooking area, which was covered in flour and hearts drawn in it.

Alfred laughed. “You like hearts, huh?”

Arthur blushed like mad. “I, uh, I, like the design?”

“It’s fine, I like hearts too!” Alfred replied cheerfully and flashed him a wink.

That did not help Arthur's blushed state in the least bit.

For two hours the duo worked together on new boysenberry scones, and some Christmas cookies as well, and both drew more little hearts on the flour around the area, laughing at shared jokes and throwing berries and sprinkles at each other joyfully.

Soon, they were done.

“Wooo! These look great Artie! Try one!” Alfred exclaimed.

Arthur took one and started nibbling, and was surprised at how good they tasted. “Wow! Al, you’re, well, amazing!” He finished it up.

Now Alfred blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing. You did most of it anyway.”

Arthur grabbed another from the tin.

“Hey Artie, close your eyes, I made you a surprise!”

“Alright…” he agreed suspiciously, closing his eyes.

Within two seconds, he felt a pair of warm lips against his own. They tasted like berries and soft vanilla crumbs.

He opened his eyes and almost gasped. It was Alfred.

Alfred pulled away slowly but kept his hand on Arthur’s back.

“Heh, sorry Arthur. I have been wanting to do that for forever. Plus, mistletoe, y’know?”

Arthur looked up and laughed at the plant hanging above the two and then, without thinking, immediately pulled him back in, and there they stood for a few more seconds before breaking apart again.

“I guess we match my sweater, huh?” Arthur said sheepishly, and Alfred looked down at his KISS sweater and chuckled.

“We should probably go share these scones and cookies anyway. Come on, and today is actually club picture day, in case you forgot. We haven’t taken a Baking Club picture for the year book yet, so it’s good you came here today,” Alfred spoke first.

“Good idea.”

The two shared their scones and when everyone was done, Alfred ran to get Francis, in his own ugly wine themed sweater, from Photography Club to take their group picture.

The group of only but nine huddled together for their picture, Alfred and Arthur side by side, holding hands.

“Everyone say ‘merde'!” exclaimed Francis from behind his camera.

Everyone took French, so they all laughed cheerfully, and said “Merde!” into the camera, the group of mismatched friends smiling ever so brightly, because they had found their home, right here, in this silly high school baking club, with more friendship and adventures to hold.

He originally joined it for the boy toy, but stayed for the friends and fun.

Arthur had changed his mind.

There were actually five things that high school was made of.

Sweets, friendship, clubs, ugly sweaters, and love.

And he couldn’t be happier that he had found all of them here.

#usuk #ukus #usukxmascountdown #day 8 #aph america #aph england

58 notes · View notes