#lykmc

[princessofpatras]

Chapter 14 is up!

#lykmc #lykmc updates #my writing #captive prince #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #captive prince fanfic

[suburbianj3sus]

hii (this is princessofpatras on my main account) not to be weird but i love your username!! I’m actually planning to use lyrics from Jesus of Suburbia in a later chapter of lykmc!!!

So I just had to reach out and say that because what are the odds lol

HAHAHA I LOVE THAT!!!! i cannot wait for the next chapter :))

#anon

[princessofpatras]

Sneak Peek of LYKMC Chapter 14

Auguste didn’t emerge from his room again until Friday evening. Laurent was curled up on an armchair in the library with a book in hand when Auguste clamored down the stairs in his boots. He always made so much noise. Laurent had grown used to a quiet house in his absence. It was still jarring every time Auguste crashed through the house like he wasn’t afraid to be heard.

Laurent caught a glimpse of him through the open doorway as he dashed through the foyer—just a tall blur of denim and worn black leather, and a flash of tousled golden hair. He might have been wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but it was hard to tell. Ever since he’d found it in the attic Auguste wore that motorcycle jacket like a second skin.

He heard the front door burst open—

“Auguste.”

—and close again.

“Uncle,” Auguste said, sounding chastised. “I was just heading out.”

“Where are you going?” Uncle’s tone was smooth and light, but slippery like ice. Laurent sensed the danger in it, even if Auguste did not.

“Just out with Jord,” Auguste answered as Laurent crept up out of his chair and peered around the doorframe.

Auguste’s back was to him, one hand still gripping the handle of the front door. Leaning against the back of the couch in the living room with his ankles crossed was Uncle, regarding Auguste over the rim of a glass of wine he was swirling beneath his nose. He looked comfortable, like he’d been lounging there a while, staring out the entryway to the foyer just waiting to catch Auguste on his way out.

“Jord? Now, there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” Uncle didn’t seem to see Laurent across the hall. His eyes were on Auguste. “Is everything all right between the two of you?”

“Yeah,” Auguste said brightly, “everything’s fine.”

“Will you be home for dinner? I’ve invited Torveld.”

Auguste hesitated. “I don’t think so, sorry.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Give him my best, though.”

“I will. I know how fond he is of you boys.” Uncle raised his wine glass to his lips. As it caught the light from the window and flashed a red wink, his eyes flicked to Laurent.

Laurent ducked back behind the wall, heart exploding in his chest. Auguste and Uncle were still talking in the foyer, but he could no longer make out their words over the drum of his own heartbeat.

By the time his pulse had slowed enough for his heartbeat to retreat from his ears, he heard the front door close. The following silence that crept in like the tide told him that Auguste was gone.

“Laurent.” Uncle’s voice was calm; he did not shout his name, but Laurent flinched as though he had.

He emerged from the library, reluctant to part from the wall which shielded him, but too afraid to ignore his uncle. There was nothing to be gained from stoking his anger; better to face the punishment he was about to receive for eavesdropping than to add disrespect and disobedience to his list of sins.

When Laurent lifted his gaze and mustered the courage to look his uncle in the eye, he did not see the anger he’d expected there. Instead, his uncle’s eyes were bright with mischief. He tapped Laurent under the chin with his knuckle and offered him a conspiratorial smile. “Your brother always looks so guilty when he lies.”

Laurent blinked back his confusion, like trying to adjust his eyes to a sudden change in the light. “You just let him lie to your face,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“My dear,” Uncle said with a twinkle in his eye, “if I revealed every time I knew he was lying to me, I would only be helping him learn to hide his lies.”

Something shifted uneasily in Laurent’s stomach. Does he know when I’m lying too? Uncle had risen to his feet as he was speaking and was now standing very close to Laurent, his head bent to his level. The thick, sour scent of red wine on his breath was suffocating. Laurent angled his face away, searching for clean air, but Uncle’s wine glass appeared under his nose.

“Have some wine, Laurent. You look pale.”

Laurent took the offered glass and slowly raised it to his lips, trying not to inhale through his nose. He usually liked wine; especially the fancy reds Uncle would let him try when they were alone. He didn’t know why this particular glass was so repulsive to him. He took a small sip, careful not to grimace as it went down.

Uncle did not take the glass back when Laurent tried to hand it to him. He stared at Laurent with a mild expression, quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly, and waited. Laurent looked down into the burgundy depths of the glass in his hand. Before he had a chance to lose his resolve, he tipped the contents into his mouth, draining the glass. He had to fight against his gag reflex to swallow it.

Satisfied, Uncle took the empty glass from his hand, set it down on a side table and smiled at him. A warm flush was creeping up Laurent’s neck and onto his cheeks.

Then the amusement drained from Uncle’s eyes, and he expelled a deep sigh. “I worry about your brother. He’s not well. You saw how he was last night. I just wish I knew who he’s really seeing when he goes out. I hope he’s not putting himself in danger.”

Laurent chewed his lip, momentarily forgetting how much Uncle hated that habit. “There must be something we can do to help him.”

“Torveld is attracted to you.”

The words hit Laurent like a slap, blindsiding him. It was not even a statement he could deny. His uncle had seen them together at his birthday party. He looked down at his hands, where he began picking at a tender hangnail.

Uncle said, “He will try to come on to you this evening at dinner.”

“I won’t do anything to encourage him,” Laurent scrambled to say, “I promise. I’ll tell him I don’t see him that way.”

Uncle clicked his tongue. “That would be rather awkward. I’ve given Torveld my blessing.”

“I … don’t understand.”

Was the room spinning just a little? Laurent wasn’t usually this much of a lightweight. Maybe it was because he’d skipped breakfast again. He tried to take a step backwards and stumbled. Uncle placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders to steady him.

“All you need to do is play along,” Uncle said. “That is, if you’re sincere about wanting to help your brother.”

#the working title for this chapter is ‘lying is the most fun a boy can have without taking his clothes off’ btw #if that tells you anything about what this chapter may hold #i know that 9pm on a thursday is an irregular time for me to post a sneak peek but i just realized i haven’t given you guys any crumbs #in a while #and ive been working on this chapter forever lol #but well anyway here it is #the snippet ive chosen to tease chapter 14 #hope you like it #lykmc updates #lykmc #ch14 sneak peek #my writing #captive prince fanfic

[princessofpatras]

Chapter 12 is up!!

#lykmc #captive prince #my writing #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #captive prince fanfic #lamen #damen of akielos

[princessofpatras]

LYKMC Ch.16 Sneak Peek

Laurent’s rage was a cold thing; a dead weight he dragged behind him through the shadowed streets of Arles like a corpse. It made no noise, offered no insights. It wanted only to be still and fall apart—to lie down and rot. But he dragged it onward, scraping down the sidewalks toward the one place it wanted least of all to go; home.

The house was dark when it came into view. Only the lamppost out front remained on; a lighthouse beacon burning through the dark. This way to shore, it screamed, this way to wreckage! So that way Laurent went. Home. There was nowhere else to go.

A shadow grew from his feet, stretching out in front of him on the driveway. Laurent glanced over his shoulder just as the roar reached his ears, and saw a single round light like a fallen star shooting down the road right toward him where he stood. He stepped out of its path just in time to avoid being struck by the motorcycle as it careened to a stop, tires squealing as they skidded against the asphalt in the place he’d just been standing.

The rider killed the engine and ripped off his helmet, releasing a spill of shaggy hair that dimly reflected the yellow lamplight. “Jesus! I almost hit you!” Auguste exclaimed, the wide whites of his eyes glittering faintly. “What the hell are you doing skulking around in the dark?”

“Shhh!” Laurent hissed, glancing back toward the house. The windows remained dark, no sign of life behind the glass.

“Ohh, I get it,” Auguste said, dismounting clumsily. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper, his teeth flashing proudly as he grinned. “You snuck out!”

“You’re drunk.” Laurent could smell the alcohol on him from six feet away.

“Did you go to a party?” His brother took a wobbly step toward him, reaching out with a gloved hand. “C’mon, you can tell me.”

Laurent dodged his hand with a backward step. “Yeah, Auguste,” he said dryly. “I was at a party.”

“Cool,” Auguste said awkwardly, his excitement all dried up. He scratched the back of his neck, the leather of their father’s jacket creaking as he moved. “Did you have fun?”

“No.”

Silence fell between them like a curtain. Nicaise’s ring was burning a hole in Laurent’s pocket. It took all his conscious control to resist the urge to touch it; to close his fist around it.

He crossed his arms and looked his brother up and down, from his wrinkled jeans to his greasy hair to the dark bruise staining his jaw. “You look like shit.”

Auguste let out a breath of laughter, looking down at himself with a shrug. “Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I …?” He blinked in confusion. “I’m coming home.”

“I thought you lived with Jord now.”

“Laurent, I—”

“Or aren’t you planning to move in with your new girlfriend and her fiancé?” He expelled a sharp laugh, throwing his head back to gaze up at the winking stars. “What a fucking mess.”

Auguste’s brow furrowed. “I’m not dating anyone. Where did you hear that? Did Damen say something to you?” The tension in his brow suddenly released as something appeared to dawn on him. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Do you think she loves you?” Laurent said. There was a tightness in his chest, behind his ribs. He pushed his words through a constricting throat, and they cut like shards of shattered glass on their way out. “You’re nothing to her. You’re a plaything. And you’re too stupid to even see it.”

He turned away and started down the stone walkway, leaving Auguste to work through the anger and confusion that battled for control of his face.

“Hey,” Auguste called out as Laurent was climbing the shallow steps up to the door, halting him. “Were you there, in Eden? The club. Was … oh,” Laurent glanced back to see a look of horror take hold of his brother’s face. “Was Torveld there?”

Laurent did not answer, just walked into the house and closed the door behind him, remembering the need for stealth only just in time to press the latch in gently. With numbness in his heart, he seemed to float up the stairs on muscle memory.

Once in his room, he hid Nicaise’s ring in his jewelry box, tucking it into a small velvet-lined box that held another ring—a gold band with a blue sapphire that matched his earring. After a moment of hesitation, he reached under his collar to grab the pendant of Saint Michael and pulled the necklace off over his head. He dropped that into the box too, and locked it back up before returning it to its hiding place amidst the shadows under his bed.

A knock on his door sent a jolt through him. “Laurent?” His brother’s soft call was muffled through the wood. “Can I come in?”

Laurent didn’t panic; he’d locked his door. He still had a few seconds before he would have to answer. He rushed over to his desk and taped the jewelry box key to the underside of it—where he’d been hiding it since the day Auguste tore his room apart—then took one last glance at his bed to make sure the box was fully concealed.

Auguste’s fist was raised when Laurent opened the door; poised to knock again. He lowered it when Laurent motioned for him to come inside. In the overhead light, Laurent could see the flush staining Auguste’s cheeks and creeping down his neck.

“Laurent,” his brother began when the door was safely shut. “I know I seem … I’m not mad at you, I promise. Please, just—has Torveld behaved inappropriately with you?”

Laurent leaned back so that he was almost sitting on his desk and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do you mean ‘inappropriately’?”

“Has he,” Auguste said haltingly, clearly fighting to keep a grimace off his face, “you know … made you feel uncomfortable, or touched you anywhere he shouldn’t be touching you, or—”

“No, Gus. Jesus,” Laurent pushed up off the desk and crossed to his bed, where he began moving the remnants of his homework off the bed to the nightstand. “Why would you ask me that?”

Something in Auguste’s eyes hardened, and he placed his hands on his hips. “So I didn’t see Torveld kissing you at that club?”

“What? You’re delusional. I haven’t been to any club.”

His eyes narrowed, searching Laurent’s face. “Are you lying to me?”

“No,” Laurent snapped, “I’m not fucking lying to you.”

“Hey, watch it,” Auguste said, throwing up his palms. “It’s just something I thought I saw. And … something Kastor said.” His brow furrowed in thought. “He said it was you who told him I was with Jokaste. How did you know that?”

“Intuition,” said Laurent, straightening his spine.

“Intuition?” Auguste scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Honestly? No.”

Auguste shook his head. “Why did you tell Kastor? How did you even get in touch with him?”

“I didn’t. I told Uncle.”

“Uncle.”

“I told him what I suspected, and he tracked your phone to the club. We were worried about you. You’ve been acting strange, not like yourself. Drunk at all hours, getting into fights, disappearing for days on end,” he said with a blistering look that made the color in Auguste’s cheeks deepen. “Uncle must have told Kastor. Maybe he was trying to stop it before it got out of hand. To protect you.” Or to protect himself.

Laurent suddenly recalled something his uncle had said about Damen. He is circling too close to our walls.

“Why is Jokaste so interested in you?” he asked Auguste.

#sneak peek of ch16 as promised! #bonus info! this chapter and chapter 17 are both going to be titled after lines from the same poem #(i posted the poem here last week) #lykmc updates #lykmc #my writing #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #captive prince fanfic #captive prince

[princessofpatras]

Chapter 13 is up!

#lykmc #captive prince #fanfic #my writing #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen #lykmc updates #captive prince fanfic #chapter 13

[princessofpatras]

hey guys, no lykmc update today as chapter ten is not finished. 😞 i will leave you with a snippet by way of apology (and also because i completely forgot to post one last week).

LYKMC Ch.10 Sneak Peek:

“Twenty-five dollars?” Lazar complained. “That’s exorbitant!”

Laurent shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

“You quite literally do.”

Laurent leaned back, resting his elbows on the cold metal accessibility bar that ran along the wall and pretended to consider that for a moment. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. That will be thirty dollars.”

“What?” Lazar’s mouth fell open. “You can’t do that! It was twenty-five a second ago!” Pallas put a soothing hand on his boyfriend’s arm. In his other hand he held a red plastic solo cup, identical to the one in Lazar’s hand.

“I think Lazar deserves a discount for his athletic prowess today,” said Pallas, beaming at Lazar. “He won the game for us almost single-handedly.”

Laurent hadn’t been there, but he’d heard all about it from Ancel. The RVAB varsity football team was down by three points for most of the game, but in the last ten seconds Damianos threw a perfect Hail Mary all the way across the field to Lazar who sprinted past the defenders and caught it in the end zone. The game had eaten up Damianos’s entire afternoon and prevented him from taking Laurent to the stable today.

“I think you should stop talking about football before I turn you away. And as you’ve so kindly reminded me,” said Laurent, “I make the rules, and I’ve just implemented a five dollar attitude fee.”

Pallas snorted, and Lazar let out a breath of disbelieving laughter. “You’re nuts. I’m not paying that.”

Laurent examined his nails. “Then you’re welcome to look for alcohol elsewhere at this Catholic school dance. Maybe one of the priests will give you communion if you ask nicely.”

He saw his victory in the way Lazar’s face fell. Without waiting for an answer, Laurent crouched in front of his backpack, which rested on the floor in the back corner of the bathroom stall, and pulled out one of the three liquor bottles he’d stolen from Auguste’s secret stash in his closet that he thought no one knew about. “Cash only,” said Laurent. His recent predicament with the concealer had gotten him thinking he ought to accrue some capital of his own. Cold hard cash that his uncle couldn’t touch.

Lazar grudgingly forked over a wrinkled twenty and two five dollar bills, which Laurent pocketed before pouring the liquor into his cup. Pallas stepped up with his cup next.

Laurent smiled at him. “That will be ten dollars.”

Pallas grinned at Lazar as Laurent poured a generous shot of vodka into his punch.

“You’re a stone cold bitch, de Vere,” said Lazar, but strangely, he was laughing. He and Pallas left together, and Laurent locked the stall door again once they were out. He could still hear their conversation as they walked past the sinks.

“I’ll give you ten dollars,” Pallas said. “It’ll be like we each paid twenty.”

Lazar cooed. “You’re so sweet to me, babe. How will I ever repay you?”

Pallas’s voice turned wicked. “Just bring that sweet-talking mouth over here, babe, and I’ll show you what—” The bathroom door closed behind them, sparing Laurent from any more of their revolting PDA, and leaving him alone in silence.

He had chosen a bathroom on the second floor of the school to set up shop, far enough from the gymnasium where the homecoming dance was taking place that no one was likely to stumble into it by chance. For a small cut of the profit, Ancel had agreed to help Laurent by subtly spreading the word among the students in the gym. He sent up the customers with instructions to knock three times on the last stall and pay in cash. So far, Laurent had already gone through almost a whole bottle of vodka and made a little over two hundred dollars thanks to Lazar and Pallas’s contributions, and the night was still young.

Laurent leaned back against the metal bar again and scrolled aimlessly through his Instagram feed on his phone. He wished he’d thought to sneak a folding chair in here or something. As it was, there was nowhere to sit but the toilet or the floor, and Laurent was not that desperate yet. His mind wandered as he scrolled, and he felt his mood turning bitter. He was still upset that he hadn’t been able to see Pyrrha today. Damianos had driven him to the stable yesterday afternoon as promised, but the whole trip had been darkened by Damianos’s mood. The Akielon had been uncharacteristically quiet and brooding, barely stringing two words together throughout the entire thirty minute drive to Acquitart. No doubt his brother’s betrayal was heavy on his mind. He hadn’t risen to any of Laurent’s petty jabs, and he didn’t even crack a smile when Laurent—who had been eating sour gummy worms in the passenger seat—threw one of the worms at Damianos’s face. “Here, to go with that sour mood,” he’d said, but Damianos had only brushed the sour dust off his face and scowled harder. He made for such poor company that Laurent almost regretted telling him of Kastor’s plans in the first place.

Those plans should have played out this morning, unless Damianos had interfered. I wonder which way he chose; his father, or his brother? To speak up or to stay quiet? Based on his previous observations of Damianos, Laurent suspected he already knew the answer, but the brute sometimes surprised him. Laurent wondered what he would do if it were his own brother plotting against his uncle. The thought brought him close to laughter. Auguste wasn’t much of a plotter, and he wouldn’t get far against their uncle. But if it were the other way around …

The bathroom door creaked open and let in a shuffle of footsteps. Dress shoes rang sharply against the tile floor, growing closer to the stall where Laurent was lurking. The shoes appeared in the wide gap under the door, black and polished to a sheen, just as three terse knocks rattled the door on its hinges.

“Lo? It’s me.”

Swallowing his irritation at the nickname, Laurent unlatched the door and pulled it open to reveal Ancel in a slim-fitted emerald suit with a sheer white lace shirt beneath his jacket. Adorned with fake gold and glass gems, he looked like a cheap whore.

Laurent himself did not have a single piece of jewelry on his person. He had dressed plainly for the dance in a classic black tuxedo with satin lapels, for once in total compliance with the dress code—aside from the makeup on his neck that covered his bruises. The employee at the store had been right, it was a perfect match. It blended in seamlessly with his skin, showing no hint of the discoloration underneath.

Ancel tucked a loose strand of silky red hair behind his ear and grimaced, not meeting Laurent’s eye. “So,” he spoke to the wall behind Laurent, “there’s a slight hiccup in the plan.”

The hiccup stepped out from behind Ancel, all dressed up in a little black tuxedo, and decorated in blue. The bow tie snaked around his delicate neck, the bruise that stained his cheek, and the handful of glittering teardrops that dangled from his ear—blue, blue, blue. And his eyes, the bluest Laurent had ever seen, glared out of his round face like two deep wells of contempt.

“I know what you’re doing,” declared Nicaise, “and I’m going to tell your uncle.”

#lykmc #lykmc updates #sneak peek #my writing #captive prince #laurent of vere #capri fanfic #captive prince fanfic #damen of akielos #lamen #auguste of vere

[princessofpatras]

Seven sentence Sunday Saturday

Thank you @altruistic-meme for tagging me to share seven sentences from a current wip! Here are seven from the next chapter of LYKMC. (I cheated a little, it’s nine sentences but it’s seven if we don’t count the dialogue 🤫).

(Also, don’t worry, you’re still getting mainly Laurent’s pov in ch. 10, but it jumps back and forth between Laurent and Auguste).

“Do you really have no idea?” Each word sounded like it caused Berenger more pain than the last. There was a war written all over his face—emotions Auguste didn’t understand battling for control of his features. His eyes searched Auguste’s face as though some answers might be hidden there. But Auguste had no answers, only questions upon questions, and the way Berenger was looking at him made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle. Auguste could feel his defensive walls beginning to rise.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. The wood beneath him complained with a creaky groan. “I know there’s bad blood between you two, but I never understood why.”

#i’m aiming to have chapter 10 ready to update sometime next week! #lykmc #tag games #my writing #captive prince #captive prince fanfic #lykmc updates

[princessofpatras]

Chapters: 10/? Rating: Mature Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war, Slow Burn Summary:

“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22).

In the span of one year, Laurent lost everything; his parents, his best friend, his brother, his innocence. What waited for him in the shadow of his grief presented itself as love. It takes Laurent three years to figure out that it’s not. He teeters now on the cusp of revelation, nudged along by Auguste’s return from war and by a budding romance, but will it be enough to pull Laurent out of the shadow?

AKA: A coming-of-age story in which Laurent is a good catholic boy, until he isn’t.

#hello readers #im not dead #chapter 10 is finally done!!! #lykmc #lykmc updates #my writing #captive prince #captive prince fanfic #capri #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #damen of akielos #lamen

[princessofpatras]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince) Characters: Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen (Captive Prince), Auguste (Captive Prince), Regent (Captive Prince), Nicaise (Captive Prince), Jokaste (Captive Prince), Kastor (Captive Prince), Theomedes (Captive Prince), Hypermenestra (Captive Prince), Torveld (Captive Prince), Ancel (Captive Prince), Nikandros (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incest, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war, Slow Burn Summary:

“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22).

In the span of one year, Laurent lost everything; his parents, his best friend, his brother, his innocence. What waited for him in the shadow of his grief presented itself as love. It takes Laurent three years to figure out that it’s not. He teeters now on the cusp of revelation, nudged along by Auguste’s return from war and by a budding romance, but will it be enough to pull Laurent out of the shadow?

AKA: A coming-of-age story in which Laurent is a good catholic boy, until he isn’t.

#captive prince #laurent of vere #damen of akielos #lamen #damen x laurent #capri fanfic #capri #my writing #ao3 #auguste of vere #lykmc #jokaste #kastor

[princessofpatras]

Surprise! You guys can have Chapter 9 of LYKMC early, as a treat <3

#lykmc #captive prince #my writing #laurent of vere #damianos of akielos #lamen #capri fanfic #ch 9

[princessofpatras]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war, Slow Burn Summary:

“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22).

In the span of one year, Laurent lost everything; his parents, his best friend, his brother, his innocence. What waited for him in the shadow of his grief presented itself as love. It takes Laurent three years to figure out that it’s not. He teeters now on the cusp of revelation, nudged along by Auguste’s return from war and by a budding romance, but will it be enough to pull Laurent out of the shadow?

AKA: A coming-of-age story in which Laurent is a good catholic boy, until he isn’t.

#lykmc #captive prince #capri fic #catholic school au #my writing #captive prince fanfic #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #damen of akielos #damianos of akielos #lamen

[princessofpatras]

Chapter 7 is out!

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war, Slow Burn

Catholic school au in which Laurent’s uncle is a Bishop and headmaster of his school, and Auguste survived the war with Akielos.

#sorry for my inconsistency in how I post these links lmao #i haven’t figured out the best method yet #but as long as the link is there I feel like it’s fine right #captive prince #laurent of vere #auguste of vere #damianos of akielos #my writing #lykmc #capri fanfic #captive prince fanfic

[princessofpatras]

I have an important and time-sensitive question for my lykmc enjoyers!!

Would you guys be interested in a little bonus Christmas chapter to be posted on or around Christmas?

It would be set in the past, a de Vere family Christmas, and would basically just be a little prequel to lykmc! I’m thinking of titling it “The Ghosts of Christmas Past”. But I haven’t moved beyond the planning stage yet bc I don’t want to take time away from lykmc ch13 if there’s no interest in this bonus chapter, so now is the time to tell me if you’re interested!

I’m making this a poll so the shy may answer anonymously, but feel free to also leave a reply! I love to hear from you guys <3

#and to clarify! this doesn’t mean ch13 wouldn’t be posted until after this one. i’ve made some progress on ch13 already and i aim to keep #the xmas bonus chapter short #so i could well have ch13 posted in a couple weeks and then the xmas one shortly after #but there’s no guarantee bc it’s me lol #lykmc #lykmc updates #captive prince #captive prince fanfic #(before anyone comes for me. i know it’s nay. let me make stupid puns pls)

[princessofpatras]

Lord, You Keep Me Crawling (86015 words) by princessofpatras Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Catholic School, Catholic Guilt, Modern AU, Auguste Lives (Captive Prince), Teenage Rebellion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Therapy, Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jokaste is a journalist, Auguste survived the war, Slow Burn Summary:

“He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with him” (Daniel 2:22).

In the span of one year, Laurent lost everything; his parents, his best friend, his brother, his innocence. What waited for him in the shadow of his grief presented itself as love. It takes Laurent three years to figure out that it’s not. He teeters now on the cusp of revelation, nudged along by Auguste’s return from war and by a budding romance, but will it be enough to pull Laurent out of the shadow?

AKA: A coming-of-age story in which Laurent is a good catholic boy, until he isn’t.

#lykmc #woke up this morning cut my own hair and posted a new chapter lets goooo #laurent of vere #captive prince #my writing #damen of akielos #auguste of vere #captive prince fanfic #lamen

[princessofpatras]

Sneak peek at LYKMC chapter 7

Laurent awoke on the morning of his fifteenth birthday with a throbbing headache. It bloomed first behind his eye, and spread slowly through the nerve channels in his head like magma creeping through the veins of a volcano.

He stood by the front door, sandwiched between his brother and his uncle, to receive the guests as they trickled in. The rich and bitter scent of fresh coffee saturated the air, wafting out from the kitchen as pot after pot of it brewed. Clatters and chatter emanated from the living room where caterers were setting up a long buffet table, piling it high with pastries and fruit, breads and scones and muffins, sausages and deviled eggs, and carafes of steaming coffee. A string quartet was tuning up in the living room as well, a discordant rising note that sent vibrations through his blood. Laurent winced with each new sound and smell that hit his aching brain.

One of the first to arrive had been Sister Margaret. The nun shuffled through the door exclaiming her delight at being “treated like a princess” as the doorman relieved her of the small wrapped parcel she carried and helped her out of her coat. Uncle laughed and swept her into a hug, asking after her niece’s health.

“She’s a fighter,” Sister Margaret said. “She hasn’t let the illness darken her spirit.” Her watery eyes were steady, and Laurent glimpsed a somber sort of strength behind them.

Uncle took her hand in his own. “She is in our prayers. As are you, dear Sister.”

The ancient nun smiled sadly. “I’m an old hand at living. Save your prayers for the children, Father Laurent. They have only just begun.”

She touched Laurent’s cheek with a cold, bony hand; a whisper of papery thin skin, gone in an instant. He hadn’t been expecting the touch, and shied from her like a startled horse. If she, Uncle, or Auguste noticed his reaction, none of them commented.

“And you, young man.” Sister Margaret turned to Auguste with a wide grin that displayed her ancient, stained teeth. “Don’t think you’ve escaped my notice. How delighted I am to see you home safe and unharmed.” She touched his cheek much the same as she had done to Laurent’s. Auguste didn’t flinch, only smiled. “You look well,” the nun went on. “Vere is lucky to have you back. As is your family. I prayed for you and all our troops every night. Now that the fighting is done, I find I get much more sleep. And not just because my time at prayer has been cut in half!” She laughed heartily, a youthful twinkle in her eyes. Auguste and Uncle joined in. She was still tittering to herself as she made her way further into the house in search of the coffee.

Uncle Torveld arrived not long after. He wasn’t really related, but as a close friend of the family, Laurent and Auguste had called him their uncle growing up—just as they had once called Berenger uncle and referred to Vannes as their aunt. Laurent was fifteen today, though, and too old for such childish endearments. He greeted the man simply as “Torveld”.

“Birthday boy!” Torveld’s smile was a smooth flash of white teeth through his beard. “How’ve you been?” He seized Laurent in a hug, squeezing him against his chest before he could get a word out. His hands rubbed up and down Laurent’s back. When he pulled away, a hand lingered on Laurent’s upper arm, thumb brushing in small circles.

Laurent suffered him politely, though he wondered how Torveld could be so oblivious to the tension that was singing through his whole body. Surely he could feel it, if he couldn’t see it.

“I’m well,” Laurent said. “Thank you for coming.”

Torveld apologized that his brother Torgeir and his nieces couldn’t make it. “I myself happened to be in Arles on top secret movie business,” he said with a wink. “A happy coincidence that I should get to see my de Vere boys before returning!” He punctuated with a squeeze of Laurent’s arm.

Just as the musicians struck up a lively tune, the DiAkielos family burst through the door with a chorus of hollered hellos and happy birthdays, rescuing him from enduring another second of Torveld’s hands.

“Good to see you, Uncle Torveld. We should catch up later,” Auguste said by way of ending the conversation. Torveld took the hint and retreated down the hall to make room for the Akielon family to enter.

There were only four of them, but they managed to sound like a pack of at least ten people. Laurent’s head complained with a stab of pain through his temples. At least none of these people felt the need to touch him, aside from Theomedes who gave them each a firm handshake upon entering. Laurent noted that Kastor was not with them.

Damianos presented Laurent with his dimpled smile. “Happy Birthday.” He carried a big square box in his hands, each side over a foot in length. It was wrapped in white paper printed with little foiled gold crowns.

“Thank you,” Laurent said awkwardly. He wanted to return the smile, but the idea of sharing smiles with Damianos in front of his uncle made him uncomfortable. He turned his attention to his hands, examining his nails as though bored.

Huet, who was manning the door, stepped forward to take the present from Damianos. “Careful, please,” Damianos told him, “it’s fragile.” Huet nodded and carried it off to the growing pile of gifts in the library.

Laurent couldn’t help but wonder what was inside the box. His mind ran in a hundred different directions with the little information he had regarding its size and supposed fragility, but he could think of nothing that quite fit.

“Kastor sends his regrets,” Jokaste said, interrupting his thoughts. “He was held up at work.”

Laurent found it difficult to look at Jokaste. He’d finally gotten around to reading her article a few nights ago when he couldn’t sleep, and her words had seeped into his brain like water into a sponge. No matter how much he tried to wring it out, some remained, clinging to the walls of his mind.

—church allowed abuse by priest for years—more than 130 people have come forward—archdiocese already had substantial evidence of predatory sexual behavior—“couldn’t tell you because Father said it was a confessional,”—

A little yelp forced Laurent to look at her. She was half out of her coat, but a lock of her long hair had caught and tangled around one of the buttons.

“Stay still,” Auguste said, and was at her side in a heartbeat. He untangled her hair with slow, careful fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Laurent glanced sidelong at his uncle, who raised a brow in answer.

When she was free, Jokaste cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said without meeting Auguste’s eye. Laurent thought he saw a touch of color in her pale cheeks as she ran her own fingers through her hair where Auguste’s had been.

Auguste stepped back with her coat, the length of white wool folded over his arm, and handed the garment to the doorman. There was definitely a flush of pink in his cheeks.

You fool, Laurent thought with a touch of amusement as he watched his brother smooth nonexistent wrinkles out of his shirt with unsteady hands. Always acting before thinking. Uncle said there was no greater sign of stupidity, but Laurent did not think his brother was stupid. Foolish and impulsive at times, but not stupid. There’s courage in taking a step without knowing where it will bring you, he mused. Meanwhile, I have measured all my steps to take me in careful circles, going nowhere. Who’s really the stupid one?

Laurent looked up at his uncle’s face, and saw a mask of gracious composure. Uncle sensed him looking, smiled down on him and stroked the back of his head like petting a dog. Laurent bit the inside of his lip and tried not to feel humiliated.

#it’s birthday time!!!! #full chapter coming next sunday on ao3 #lykmc #captive prince #laurent of vere #my writing #auguste of vere #capri fanfic #damianos of akielos #captive prince fanfic