#cs ginger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveroffemmes · 29 days ago

Text

Why Does This Feel Right? | Pre-Crash Laura Lee x Fem! Reader

warnings: religious guilt, internalized homophobia

summary: Laura Lee one-shot. Laura Lee has a crush on you, she doesn’t quite understand it, but she certainly doesn’t like it. Sweet fluff with v mild angst :)

“Good practice.” Laura Lee said, patting my back in the locker room. Her touch always lingered a little bit too long and each time she would act surprised by her own actions.

“Thanks.” I smiled at her, her ears turning bright red in return. Laura Lee always had a dead giveaway as to when she was nervous; her ears would go bright red which would go unnoticed if her hair wasn’t always tucked behind her ears.

I heard Laura Lee audibly swallow, “God must have been on your side today.” She said, her hand dropping from my back.

“Yeah, something like that.” I mutter back.

“(Y/n)~!” Van called out, “How about you join Tai, Laura Lee, and I for an after practice lunch?”

I changed my cleats out for my sneakers and nodded, “Sounds good.”

The four of us went to the nearby diner. Van put in an order of fries before an of us could even order a drink, “I’m spoiling all of you today for such a good practice! Keep it up and we’ll make it to nationals.”

Tai jokingly rolled her eyes, “Are you going to have that same type of enthusiasm when the check actually comes?”

Van grabbed her own shirt, right over her heart, “How dare you!” She says, pretending to be insulted causing Tai to laugh.

The waitress sets down the basket of fries for our table and Laura Lee reaches for one as do I. Our hands brush before we can even reach the basket and Laura Lee immediately pulls her hand away, her ears and cheeks going red. Van and Tai exchange a look.

“I don’t bite, Laura Lee.”

Laura Lee nods as if what I said was serious, “I-I know…it’s not that…” She pauses for a moment, clearly trying to think of something, “I was shocked because we forget to thank God for our meal!”

“I am not doing that.” Van responds, taking a fry.

Tai continues, “If anything, we should say thanks to our waitress.”

Laura Lee’s head goes down, beginning to mumble prayers under her breath, “Thank you, God, for this meal we are about to have. Thank you, God, for my friends. I pray for them all to have good health and good fortune. I pray for these impure thoughts to disappear. I pray for my entire time.”

Impure thoughts? There is absolutely no way Laura Lee would say that unless Van and Tai corrupted her.

“Can you finally eat now?” Van groans and Laura Lee shoots her a glare.

“Yes, carrot top.” Laura Lee innocently replies and Van’s eyes go wide.

“Carrot top!?” Tai and I burst out laughing.

“You heard me.” Laura Lee replies, a small smirk making its way onto her face, “You’re just cranky about my prayers because gingers have no souls.”

Van gasps and I have to hold my stomach from how hard I’m laughing, “Laura Lee!” Van is too stunned to think of a witty reply. She desperately looks at Tai for some kind of defense, but Tai’s practically falling out of the booth from how hard she’s laughing.

We all settle down as Van mumbles something about how Tai was supposed to be on her side. I move closer into the booth and my thigh touches Laura Lee’s. She completely freezes, but doesn’t move away. Her hands move up to the cross around her neck and she desperately fumbles with it, running it between her fingers.

The meal went by quickly with a lot more bickering between Laura Lee and Van.

“I have to get home soon, I have to do an English paper that I’ve been putting off.” I said with a groan, “I swear our teacher hates me. She only gives me Cs.”

“Really? She’s never given me anything lower than an A.” Laura Lee replies, “Do you want me to look over your paper for you?”

“I would love that, but it’s due tonight.”

“Why don’t you come work on it at my house?” Laura Lee asks, a light red blush dusting her cheeks.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“Of course.” I grin at Laura Lee and she looks away from me, her hand reaching up to touch her necklace.

Van and Tai split off from us as Laura Lee and I went to her house. It was quaint. Her room was as expected, neat and decorated with crosses.

“You can sit on my bed and start writing.” I hopped up on her bed, still looking around her room and taking it all in. It was so…Godly? I felt out of place.

Laura Lee stared at me for a while, not moving from where she was standing. I felt a chill run down my spine — Was I doing something wrong? Did I accidentally sit on a cross or something?

“I want to kiss you.” Laura Lee blurts out, her fingers fidgeting with the cross around her neck.

“W-What?” My eyes widened and I could feel my entire face flush red.

“I know it’s wrong, I know that, but why would God make me crave something with the entirety of my being if I was not meant to have it? I know I’m supposed to resist sinful urges and I-I do, I swear! I don’t curse, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I’ve never dyed my hair, I-I…I’ve done everything with ease, but you…” Laura Lee’s chest is heaving as she speaks, “Why can’t I…Why can’t I stop picturing your lips? Why is it that when I close my eyes…I see you? It doesn’t make any sense! Why do my knees get weak when your hand brushes against mine? Why does my heart race when you smile at me?” She spoke as if she were begging for an actual answer, “(Y/n), I don’t understand…” She takes a step towards me, “The worst part of it all is that I don’t care. I don’t care if I go to Hell or if God never forgives me or whatever because I have never wanted anything this badly in my entire life.” Laura Lee grabbed the sides of my varsity jacket and pulled me against her, her lips meeting mine in an instant. It desperate, but gentle.

One of Laura Lee’s hands remained on my jacket, bunching it up and ensuring I do not move. Her other hand moved to the back of my neck where she kept my head locked in place, never wanting to stop kissing me. Her lips moved against mine slowly as if she was trying to remember every last second of this kiss, to memorize exactly how my lips moved, exactly how they tasted, exactly how they felt.

Laura Lee pulled away, gasping for air, her forehead resting against mine, “Your lips are soft.” She whispers.

“Yours are too.” Laura Lee leans in once more, kissing me against. If she was going to sin, then she’d at least make it worth it.

Masterlist

102 notes · View notes

whisperingmidnights · 11 months ago

Text

Starcrossed: Chapter One

Word Count: 5,725

Pairing: Rhysand x reader

A/N: Welcome to my self-indulgent Chasing Starlight AU, where we get to explore Dove's life as it might have unfolded if her mother had married for love instead of duty. This story doesn't require you to have read CS to understand it, but I think it's more fun if you have.

Thank you to @throneofsapphics and @historiaxvanserra for helping me with these first few chapters. It means more than you know. And to those of you who encouraged the insanity, both privately and publicly.

The maplewood floors, warmed by the golden afternoon sunshine that steals through the boughs of the trees surrounding the Forest House, barely creak beneath my bare feet as I slink across them. My skirts are tied high on my legs to give me room to move, and the knot I’ve made of the maroon fabric hangs heavily against my knee. Pressing myself back against the wall near my father's office, I do my best to hold my breath and listen to the low, flowing cadence of his voice filtering through the slight crack in the door.

I shouldn’t be spying. I know I shouldn’t, but when word spread through the healing halls of the slaughter of Spring’s High Lord and his family, I just had to come. What might have warranted such a heinous attack? In their own home, no less. Lady Sybil said one son had survived, but which one? Did the shackles of the High Lord pass to him, in that terrible moment? Dust motes dance around me like little sprites, making my nose twitch as I strain to hear the conversation in my father’s office.

“And which emissary did you dispatch to Night?” My mother asks, disdain dripping from her tone. To say she isn’t a fan of that High Lord is an understatement.

“Roland,” Papa says over the sound of parchment crinkling. “He returned an hour ago with that note from Rhysand.”

“You sent Roland? Honestly, Eris, you may as well have sent one of our girls-”

“Lucien went directly from Day to Spring, and he was the only other emissary currently available, my love. And passing along our condolences is hardly a formidable task. He was up for it.”

“The male is an imbecile.”

“He’s charming.”

“He’s simpering, which is worse. Frankly, I’m surprised Rhysand didn’t have him killed on sight.”

A floorboard creaks and my heart jumps into my throat. I glance quickly to my right to see my youngest brother tiptoeing along the wall, a mischievous smile on his freckled face as fire dances in those amber eyes. Reaching out, I quickly loop an arm around his shoulders and clamp my hand over his mouth, drawing him against my side before he makes any more noise and gets us caught.

“Quiet, Asp,” I hiss into his ginger curls. “I’m trying to listen.”

Aspen’s teeth sink into my fingers, but I only press them tighter against his mouth. Somehow, the little weasel always manages to find me at the most inconvenient moments. To his credit, he doesn’t struggle, and I angle our bodies more towards the door. The Lord of Night’s son has only attended a few of the meetings between the High Lords and their courtiers over the last few decades, so I’m not as familiar with him as I am with his sister, Rhosyn - who I have yet to hear my father mention.

If Rhysand is the one receiving condolences from our emissary, that can only mean…surely it wasn’t his father who went after Spring’s High Lord. Then again, who is better suited to kill a High Lord than another High Lord? Such an action would undoubtedly bear a heavy consequence, at least from the land. To slay another High Lord is nearly sacrilegious. What could possibly have provoked such an attack? Poor Rho, she really loved her father. I should write to her. Why didn’t Papa tell me about this himself? There was time at breakfast after the littles were sent to their tutors. Perhaps he didn’t know then, but he should have sent for me when he found out, shouldn’t he? He’s the one insisting I should be trained in court politics, after all.

“What nosy little foxes,” a crooning whisper brushes against my ear as a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder. Eyes wide, I glance back to see my uncle grinning down at us. I shove Aspen away with a gasp, locking my arms around his middle in a tight hug.

“Uncle Lu!” Aspen’s delighted shout gives us away, but it hardly matters now that we’ve been caught. Uncle Lucien’s laughter rings through the halls like the peal of a bell, as warm and rich as the cinnamon tea he favors. “You’ve been gone forever!”

“Some spies you are,” he chuckles, somehow steering the three of us through the door to my father’s office, entangled as we are. Papa is seated behind his desk with my youngest sister asleep against his chest, her chubby little hand stuffed in her mouth. He gives me a pointed look when we stop just shy of the chairs arranged before his desk, but it’s the glare from my mother just behind him that I’m purposefully avoiding. “Look who I found sniffing around your door. They must have been eager to see their papa.”

“No,” Aspen says as he wriggles out from under Uncle Lucien’s arm like the little snake he is. “Nurse said Junie’s in here.”

He’s been absolutely obsessed with Juniper since her birth a week ago. Of course he was coming here to see her. Aspen leans against our father’s arm, craning to see the babe’s face as she snuffles sleepily into Papa’s tunic. My uncle gives me a tight squeeze as he smiles down at the new babe, whose birth he missed while he was visiting our grandmother.

“Another girl after all,” he says fondly before his russet eyes slide to meet my mother’s. “I believe you owe me money.”

“You’ll be getting a lot more than that from me, Lucien Vanserra, if you don’t wipe that smug grin off of your face immediately.” My mother glares at him like a queen upon her throne, and a shiver runs down my spine at the threat in her crimson eyes. When they flick to me, I shrink against my uncle’s side as she takes in the state of my skirts and the wild braid sticking to the side of my neck. “And you, running around like some street urchin, aren’t you supposed to be attending lessons?”

“They’re finished for the day,” I reply with a shrug. It’s not technically a lie, they’re finished now - even if they weren’t before I left. “And I heard about Spring. I wanted to know if it was true, so I came to see Papa.”

“You came to spy,” my father murmurs, unable to keep the smile from his lips as he looks at me. “I intended to send for you after your lessons, little fox. You would have learned about it all soon enough, had you been even the least bit patient.”

“It’s a big deal, Papa,” I retort, vainly attempting to sound wiser than I probably am. “I don’t think I should be learning such sensitive matters secondhand.”

“Oh, I agree. Which is why you’ll tell me who you heard it from.”

“I want to hold Junie,” Aspen whines as I shift from foot to foot, debating whether or not I should tell my father the truth. I’d hate to see Lady Sybil punished when, truly, I shouldn’t have been listening in on her conversation. I don’t even know how she found out about it, really. My mother grabs the back of Aspen’s collar and pulls him to stand beside her while my father gazes at my expectantly, his hand smoothing over the new babe’s tuft of fluffy, ginger hair.

Unfortunately, the moment I finally open my mouth to speak, Iris drifts into the room like a petal on a spring breeze. Her mint day gown is pristine, a perfect compliment to her creamy skin and dark, wine-red curls, and I have to fight not to roll my eyes at my perfect sister. On her heels are two chubby smokehound pups, Nova and Hesper - gifts from Fable’s most recent litter, courtesy of our father. Nova trips over her own large, clumsy paws on her way over to me, sending her rolling like a child’s ball until she flops at my feet, her ears covering her eyes.

“That one won’t be much of a hunter,” Uncle Lucien notes jovially as I bend to pluck the poor pup from the ground and tuck her into the crook of my arm. Her dark fur is soft and long, unlike the rest of her siblings - a rare mutation Papa hates to see in his working dogs. Hesper’s coat is short, but she bears the unfortunate combination of being underweight and stupid. Of course she immediately became attached to my sister, Iris loves a project.

“Oh, the girls have already spoiled them,” Papa says, “I expect they’ll be little more than house trained, at this rate. That one seems especially dim.”

She’s not any more dim than Hesper. I scratch the puppy behind her ears and she gives me a curious whine as she relaxes in my hold. I’ll have to take her out before dinner and let her run around a bit. It’s been a few decades since Papa last gave me a puppy to raise.

“Uncle Lucien, you’re home,” Iris says brightly, tucking herself beneath his arm in spite of the mutinous glare I shoot her. Can I not have five minutes without her coming in to prove she’s the brightest, loveliest female in the room? Fate played a particularly cruel hand the night it saddled me with her as a sister. “I missed you.”

“Nova isn’t dim, Papa, she’s only a baby,” I tell him, ignoring Iris’s presence for the moment. “And it was Lady Sybil, if you must know - but please don’t punish her too harshly. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

“I’ll speak to her,” my mother murmurs, leaning down to take Juniper from my father’s arms. “Right after I put this one down. Yes, Aspen, you may come and hold her for a while. Let’s leave your father and sisters in peace, shall we?”

“Jes should be getting settled in our quarters,” Uncle Lucien adds to her retreating back, “if you’re keen for adult company after.”

“How is Auntie Jes?” Iris asks, and this time I can’t stop my eyes from drifting towards the ceiling. Ever the caretaker, Iris would probably be better suited for healing than I am, if she weren’t constantly insisting she’s too delicate for it. “Is she feeling well, should I take her some tea?”

“She is doing better now that we’re home. Travel doesn’t seem to agree with her at this point in her pregnancy, so I doubt she'll be accompanying me anywhere else in the foreseeable future. Tea would be a lovely gesture, Iris, thank you.”

“I’ll go at once,” she says with her own bright smile. “A guard mentioned you were home, so I merely wished to say hello.”

“Of course you did,” I mutter, scratching behind Nova’s ear. A sharp tug at my skirt draws my attention to Hesper, whose little teeth are firmly set in the hem. “Hesper, no. Iris, can’t you do something?”

“Oh, Hesper, down,” she says, ducking to grab the puppy around the middle. As she does, a terrible ripping sound accompanies another tug, and the pup comes away with a large chunk of my hem. Iris, to her credit, looks properly distressed as she turns her eyes on me. It’s strange how that same blood moon shade is gentle on her yet piercing on my mother. “Oh no. Sissy, I’m so sorry.”

An old childhood nickname I’ll never be free of, but I can’t be angry with her when she calls me that. I simply shrug, pressing a kiss to the top of Nova’s head. She may not be up to my father’s standard of training, but she has yet to destroy anything that’s not a toy.

“It can be repaired,” Papa says kindly, turning a disdainful eye on my knotted, wrinkled skirts. “Not that your sister seems overly fond of her dress to begin with. And where are your shoes, little fox?”

“In my room. It was easier to sneak up to the door without them.”

“She’s a terrible spy,” Uncle Lucien says, “but significantly better than Aspen. She did have him in some sort of stranglehold when I came along-”

“His nose was uncovered, he could breathe.”

“Mother, save me,” Papa murmurs. “Iris, run along and help your aunt, and take your sister with you. It seems your uncle still has business with me.”

“Actually, Iris will need to go alone. I have business with the both of you.”

“Really?” I ask, smiling up at him. From the corner of my eye, I see Iris nod and excuse herself, tugging at the strip of fabric in her puppy’s mouth on the way to the door. Hesper, the little rat, growls her refusal to give it up. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. It isn’t behavior that should be encouraged. Once the office door closes behind her, I turn back to my father. “You were going to tell me what happened in Spring, weren’t you, Papa?”

“Oh, Eris, surely not.” I so rarely get to see my uncle wrinkle his nose in disgust. When he notices me watching, he turns an apologetic frown on me. “It’s nasty business, little fox. You’re better off not knowing.”

“She’ll need to be aware regardless,” Papa says, shuffling the parchment littering the top of his desk. “We can hardly keep the indelicate parts of this life from her, Lucien, if she is to be my heir.”

“We don’t even know that she is. You assume so, but who’s to say it will choose her?”

“Why shouldn’t it?” I ask, frowning at the implication. Uncle Lucien tugs at my braid and I take a step away, holding my puppy close to my chest. “Do you think it would favor Aspen or Linden over me, simply because they’re male?”

“Of course not.”

“I am the eldest and, so far, the most powerful of all my siblings.” I resent the tremble in my voice as the words tumble from my lips. I want to be calm for this, but my temper always has other ideas. An answering pulse from the land sends the slightest of tremors through the foundation of the house, rattling the portraits on the walls. Beyond the window, I can see the clouds beginning to roll in, as dark and thunderous as the shift in my mood - evidence of the power flowing through my veins. My father sighs, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Linden may have inherited our family’s gifts and, yes, he might have more military training than I do. But I don’t need to know how to command armies, Uncle Lucien. I need to be able to rule. That’s what I’m learning, isn’t it, Papa?”

“There are many reasons it would behoove you to be aware of political moves and alliances between our courts and beyond.” My father’s biting response lands like a slap. “You’re the eldest daughter of a noble family and, as such, I expect you to behave in a manner that befits your station. Perhaps we should repeat the lesson on controlling your temper, since you don’t seem to have grasped the importance of it yet.” I duck my head, my cheeks burning at the implication that I’m being childish - perhaps I am, but I hate it when he notices. I never want my father to see me falling short of his - admittedly high - expectations.

“I apologize,” I murmur, willing the clouds to disperse and return the bright blue sky we were previously enjoying. Instead, a steady drizzle begins to fall as if to spite me. Rain taps at the windows for a long moment before Uncle Lucien slides an arm around my shoulders and pulls me back against his side once more.

“It takes time, kit. You aren’t quite a century yet. Your papa might do well to remember the curtains he set fire to in a small outburst when he was young-”

“You weren’t even around when that happened,” Papa sneers, narrowing his amber eyes at my uncle. Uncle Lucien’s sly smile doesn’t move an inch.

“Yet Mother recalls it in such vivid detail. I believe they were marigold yellow-”

“State your business, Lucien. From the looks of it, my daughter still needs to bathe and change before dinner tonight.”

“Mother would like to borrow said daughter for a few weeks, if you can spare her. The lemon groves near the capitol are struggling through a hell of a drought. Truly, I think she’s just missing her grandchildren and is looking for any opportunity to host one.”

“Grandmother asked for me?” I ask, turning a hopeful smile on my father. Nova licks at my chin and her wet nose drags across my skin, but I can’t be bothered to reprimand her. Not when I might be getting off of the estate for a few days, at least. “Oh, Papa, please can I go?”

“Do you think you’re ready for it?” he counters, arching a brow at me. I have only ever helped maintain the smaller, nearby orchards without his assistance, but surely these lemon groves are about the same size. He wouldn’t be asking me if I were ready if he didn’t think I was. This is a test, but I have the correct answer.

“Yes, sir, I do. I can handle it, Papa.”

“You’ll need to take the puppy with you. Two is a bit much for Iris to manage on her own.”

“Will Grandfather mind?” I ask. Grandmother took the hounds that had belonged to her after they wed, but I can’t recall seeing any other sort of dog wandering the halls of the Day Court palaces since their passing. I had been little more than a child then.

“He might mind the pup I send with you for your grandmother, but I doubt they’ll make any more of a mess than the pegasi he breeds.”

“Oh, Helion’s going to love that,” Uncle Lucien chuckles, shaking his head. “And Mother’s missed the hounds. I’m certain she’ll appreciate the gesture.”

“It’s older and better trained than that menace, in any case. Will you be accompanying them?”

“Yes. Now that I have Jesminda home, I’ll feel a little easier leaving her for a few hours.” I should see my aunt before I leave. Her pregnancy had barely been announced before she and Uncle Lucien left for Day, and she’s wanted a babe for so long…I’ll try to see her before dinner. Mother knows Iris will suck up whatever time she can this afternoon.

“Thank you,” I tell my uncle, giving Nova a little bounce. “We’re going on an adventure, Nova. Won’t that be fun?”

“You’ll behave,” my father begins, but the words barely make it out of his mouth before Uncle Lucien scoffs, his hair flowing down his back in a red wave as he shakes his head.

“She’s an adult, Eris, and even if she weren’t, she’s the best of the bunch. Aren’t you, fox?”

“I’m certainly not the worst. Unlike Linden, I’ve never set fire to anything just to see what it would do.” The stone foundation of Papa’s kennels bears scorch marks that even magic hasn’t been able to completely restore. “How is he, by the way? Have you received a letter?”

“This morning,” Papa says with a fond smile, lifting one of the many bits of parchment on his desk. “He’s fine, they have him on sentry duty along the northern border in Oakcrest.”

“Oh, I bet he’s hating it.” My brother always loved the bustle of Thornvale and the Forest House, to think of him in that little village with nothing but orchards for miles…well, I can’t suppress my smirk. It earns the back of my arm a little pinch from my uncle, but he looks twice as amused as I do.

“He is, he’s begging for reassignment.”

“You’re not going to grant it, are you?” Uncle Lucien asks.

“Absolutely not. In fact, I may give his captain direct orders to keep him there longer. Perhaps he needs a year in the north. Winter's chill might do him some good.”

“That’s diabolical.”

“He understands the chain of command by now, he should know better. Besides, I’m not anticipating any trouble along our northern border for the moment, he’s safest there. What of Spring, Lucien? How is Tamlin?”

“Grieving, as one would expect. I’ve promised to return soon, with your leave, and assist with restructuring how I can. He’s going to need guidance, Eris. He thought this was never going to be his role.”

“And yet, he’s the last male of his house standing. It must say something about him, though I’m not certain what.”

“Merely that Rhysand didn’t make the killing blow,” Uncle Lucien says with a sigh. “Are you sure you want her here for this?”

“She needs to know.” Papa says, idly straightening his sleeves. “Even if she does not go on to rule this territory, Lucien, she may very well marry into one of these families. I won’t have her walking into it blind.”

“There’s not a male alive in the whole of Prythian who could ever be worthy.” I huff at the hint of possession in his tone. Fae males are infinitely more protective with babes on the way, though the males in my family have routinely found ways to redefine the meaning of overprotective.

“I think that’s for me to judge, don’t you?” I ask. The phrase barely makes it past my lips before my father and uncle are laughing, sharing a look I can’t decipher. Males. “Are you going to tell me what happened or not? As you said, Papa, I should bathe before dinner.”

The reminder has a sobering effect I hadn’t anticipated. It’s always amazed me, the way mirth falls from their faces like the life leeched from a corpse. The room is darker for it, somehow, and the anxiety creeping beneath my skin only serves to encourage the storm brewing outside. Neither male seems particularly eager to speak, and my father gives me a measuring look before he begins.

“I know you were fond of Rhysand’s sister, fox. I am sorry to say that our spies reported the deaths of her and her mother yesterday.”

“What?” I whisper, shaking my head. My grip on Nova loosens and I feel my uncle ease her from my grasp and onto the floor before he wraps a bracing arm around my shoulders. My heart thumps painfully in my chest, it’s like my ribs are somehow too small to contain it. “What do you mean?”

It doesn’t make sense. Rhosyn was young, younger than Iris, I- I just saw her a few months ago. Had they taken ill? My vision blurs as I watch my father stand. He’s an imposing figure in any room, but this one has never looked so small until now. The dimmed faelights hollow out his sharp features, transforming him in an instant from my patient papa to the High Lord of Autumn.

It is my Uncle Lucien who speaks next, relaying the whole horrible tale as he’d heard it from the Lord of Spring himself.

“From the way Tamlin told it, he and Rhysand had been friends for a rather long time. He didn’t speak of the nature of their friendship and, truly, I was unaware they were more than acquaintances, but I suppose they were close enough for Rhysand to mention a brief trip his mother and sister were making to a certain war-camp to see him – he didn’t relay the specifics, Eris, and I didn’t press.”

“No,” the High Lord says, trailing his thumb over his lower lip as he so often does when he’s thinking. “It wasn’t the time.”

“Tamlin let mention of the journey slip, probably to get back into his father’s good graces. He thought his father and brothers might, at most, capture Rhysand, but he knew he’d be strong enough and vicious enough to fight them off if he had to. He did not, however, plan to find the Lady of Night and her daughter unaccompanied.” I swallow hard at the idea of Rho and her lovely mother, with those impossibly kind eyes, surrounded by powerful males from a foreign court on their own lands. I’m no fool, I’ve heard many tales of what happens to vulnerable females at any time of day. Nova is a fuzzy blur at my feet, licking at the bare skin of my ankle. I lean against my uncle, allowing my head to hang as his voice softens and he whispers to my father, “Eris, are you certain-”

“Finish your report.”

“The mother put up quite a fight, trying to protect her daughter, but the girl was killed quickly. With her daughter gone, the Lady of Night didn’t have much to fight for. They sent their heads down the river in boxes, took their wings as trophies, and left the bodies for the wolves to find.”

“No,” I whisper, vaguely aware of my feet moving, sending me stumbling forward like they might take me from the nightmare. It is my father’s callused hands that catch me and tuck me against his side, that smooth over my hair as my uncle relays the story of how the High Lord of the Night Court and his son dispatched the High Lord of Spring, his wife, and most of their sons in retribution. That explains why the land had not punished the former High Lord for killing the latter – she had been soaked in the blood of innocents. He had lost almost everything, so he took, measure for measure, what he had lost…and paid the ultimate price for it.

Leaving our lands more divided than ever.

I cling to my father like a child and he allows it, cradling my head the way he had Juniper’s barely fifteen minutes prior. The rain beats against the window and, for once, my power does not feel like a burden. It’s almost as if the land cries with me, mourning all that was lost in the last day. Not only the lives of two long standing, powerful High Lords, but a friendship that might have blossomed into a powerful alliance - a unity that might have reshaped our courts for the better, if only it’d had the chance. And who’s to say that the life of one young female wouldn’t have changed the world, if only she’d had the chance. Now we’ll never know.

After a moment, I straighten and wipe my face with the handkerchief my uncle extends. How fortunate I am, to have the majority of my family beneath one roof once more, and to know my brother is safe even though he is far away. My mind strays to the new Lord of Night, who will be burying his family instead of dining with them. Does he have friends who will care for him? While my Uncle Lucien busies himself helping to restructure Spring, who will provide Rhysand support?

When I voice my concern to my father, he hums thoughtfully as he plucks my puppy from the floor and cradles her as he had Juniper. I’ve never understood his attachment to his hounds, but each of them have been his babies - even if he tries to hide it. Nova lolls in his arm, the tip of her tongue protruding from her mouth as her dark, soulful eyes peer up at me.

“We’ve extended a hand to Rhysand, if he should need it. I doubt he will. I know you were fond of his sister, my darling, but the Night Court is a cruel, secretive territory with its own moral code. They do not seek help beyond their borders, nor do they freely give it. It is kind of you to care, but I would not urge you to hold onto such tender notions where that court is concerned – they will disabuse you of them rather quickly, I’m afraid.”

“How do you know? Have you been there?” I ask, reaching out to stroke Nova’s head. Uncle Lucien sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead as though he is weary. He did a lot of traveling today with my aunt in tow, perhaps he is tired.

“I’ve been to their capital city on many occasions. When I was very young, my father had me betrothed to a female from one of their noble families. She found a rather unsavory way to break the engagement, and they abandoned her brutalized body in our territory, to be our problem. She lived, of course, but that is what they do to their own. I will not elaborate on the way they treat their enemies.”

I hadn’t been aware of my father’s prior engagement, but I’ve heard countless stories of his father’s machinations. I’m luckier still to never have known such a cruel male, how Papa and his brothers survived under his thumb…well, there’s a reason it’s only Papa and Uncle Lucien now. He passes Nova off to me and runs a hand over my hair before he gestures towards the door, a silent dismissal. I manage a polite curtsy before I show myself out and head to my aunt and uncle’s suite of rooms.

The curtains are drawn, an unusual choice for my sunshine-loving aunt. I move quietly through each empty, darkened room until I find their cracked bedroom door. The warm glow of low faelights cast long shadows on the floor, and I keep Nova tucked beneath my arm as I ease the door open. My aunt is in bed, seemingly asleep with a cloth draped over her forehead. A steaming cup of tea is on her nightstand, and beneath the covers at her side I barely make out Hesper’s snout peeking out. The door to their bathing chamber opens with a slight squeak, and Iris steps out with an empty copper basin in her hands.

“Is she well?” I whisper when my sister finally drifts over to join me, having deposited the basin on the nightstand near the teacup.

“I don’t know,” Iris shrugs, crossing her arms over her torso – as she often does when she’s feeling vulnerable. She chews on the inside of her lip as we stand there, watching the steady rise and fall of Aunt Jesminda’s chest until Iris takes another steadying breath. “She wasn’t well when I arrived. Don’t you think she’s too pale? Should we send for a healer?”

“If she’s been vomiting, that’s not uncommon. It may be nothing more than morning sickness. Was she complaining of any pain? Cramping?”

“No. She said she was fatigued.”

“They went from Day to Spring before coming back home,” I shrug. “Even if it was Uncle Lucien winnowing them, it would still be a lot to deal with. Send a message to Mother, if you’re concerned, but I wouldn’t bother a healer unless she begins complaining of pain or develops a fever. I can stay with her, if you’d rather not.”

“Oh, no. I’m happy to stay until Uncle Lucien comes. Do you know why they were in Spring, by the way?”

“I do.” My throat tightens at the thought of all the pain being traded between two of Prythian’s courts at the moment. “I’m sure Papa will make some sort of announcement about it at dinner tonight.”

“Is it so bad?”

“It’s bad enough that I don’t wish to discuss it further. I must bathe before dinner, so if you’re sure you’ll be fine here, I’ll take my leave.”

“Alright,” Iris whispers, resting a hand on my elbow. “Thank you for stopping to check in-”

“I didn’t do it for you.” There is no victory for me in the way she visibly wilts at the remark, but the smile remains firmly planted on her face regardless. I know I should apologize. I’m not sure when I began to resent her so much, but these days I simply can’t resist the urge to lash out at her. Perhaps it would be easier if the ladies of our court didn’t take every opportunity to compare us. I quickly take my leave, before she or I can say anything to further widen the valley between us.

Back in my chambers, servants are bustling about, fretting with shoes and gowns or dusting the various trinkets I’ve accumulated from my uncle’s travels over the decades. Lettie, a Brownie who has served our family for as long as I’ve been alive, pops out of the bathing chamber and makes a beeline for me. Hunched and covered in coarse, shaggy hair, her dark eyes burn as she takes in the sight of me. She might be small, but she’s vicious when crossed and I don’t feel up for a fight today. I pass off Nova to one of the nearby maids before her gnarled hand wraps around my wrist and she ushers me into the bath, fussing over the state of my dress.

“This dress is a mess. Why is it ripped, girl? What were you up to?” she grumbles as she deftly releases each button, her wizened voice like the wind rustling dry leaves. “Meddling where you shouldn’t be?”

“It was Hesper. I’m sure she’s just teething and needs something to chew.”

“Tch, and your feet are filthy. I found your shoes by the door. Whatever possessed you to go without them?”

“I was trying to be stealthy,” I sigh, stepping into the deep, porcelain tub near the window. The near-boiling water is milk-white and smells of oats and honey, and I sink into it without another thought. Rain continues to pelt the window, a reflection of my sour mood, and I keep my eyes fixed on the blurred horizon as Lettie uses a dark, jasmine-scented sugar to scrub at my skin until it’s nearly raw.

One day, perhaps, I’ll be able to do as I like - bathe how I like - without having to answer to anyone besides myself. Freedom is a wish I harbor in the deepest part of my heart, tucked between my duty to my family and court and my duty to myself. Ruling is in my blood, the desire to live for the will of my people is written in the essence of my soul, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe something else is waiting for me out there - something as wicked and wild and free as I long to be.

#cs universe #rhys x reader #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction

195 notes · View notes

drownedinlavender · 5 months ago

Text

⋆｡°✩South Park High School AU Headcanons⋆｡°✩

Mainly written to get out of my writers block lmaoo. This is a guide to all my headcanons in my “Be Nice to Me” fanfic

⋆｡°✩ Kyle Broflovski:

6'2”. Tall with lean muscle. Ginger with emerald green eyes and light freckles. Very curly hair with trimmed sides.

Juggles the debate club, basketball team, student council, and too many AP classes to count.

The first to get his driver's license out of the main 4 + Leopold.

His parents got him a car for his birthday for doing so well academically.

Works and volunteers during the summer.

Gets into detention often due to Cartman baiting him into fights.

Has gotten benched multiple times for playing too aggressively in basketball games when instigated by rival teams.

Has a tight knit study group with Wendy, Tolkien, and Nichole.

They help each other out with their AP classes but also consider each other rivals, trying to beat the other for the title of valedictorian.

Very good at first person shooters, often out performing Cartman.

Knows how to build a PC.

Learned how to program in his free time.

Spends time with his family and has a close relationship with Ike.

Knows Cartman’s schedule better than Cartman himself

Begrudgingly gives Cartman rides to school sometimes. Will leave him if he takes too long though.

⋆｡°✩Eric Cartman:

5'10”. Big, bulky build. A lot of arm muscle + big belly. Soft chestnut brunette hair. Dark reddish brown eyes. Thick eyebrows.

Is both on the football and hockey teams. He likes to use both sports as an excuse to be a major asshole towards others and uses his size to his advantage.

In the board games club. Argues with Nichole a lot for leadership.

Has a hard time studying and paying attention due to ADHD.

Does enough school work to pass. Thinks school is pointless and a big scam.

Would much rather play video games or watch TV instead of school work.

Unfortunately, to his Spanish teacher's demise, outperforms others in Spanish class.

Prefers first person shooters but also loves dress up games. Would kill anyone that found out.

Will trash talk your mom but if someone trash talks his mom he WILL dox them.

Loves reality tv. Big fan of RuPaul's drag race, Love is Blind, the Real Housewives.

Is a menace on reddit.

Has gotten his account reported many times on reddit, discord, and twitter.

Planning to major in business or finance in college.

The last of the main 4 + Leopold(Butters) to learn how to drive. Was genuinely too lazy and constantly bummed rides off the others anyway, specially Kyle.

⋆｡°✩Stan Marsh:

5'11”. Average build. Straight dark black hair. Wears a beanie often since his hair gets oily fast. Dark blue eyes.

Stan loves writing and listening to music. He's very big into metal, rock, and Midwest emo right now.

His extracurriculars are football and the board game club.

He volunteers at animal shelters in his free time and fundraisers for the environment.

He's an average student, usually getting Bs and Cs, and a D if he doesn't study enough.

He's terrible at multitasking. He's a very forgetful person.

Wendy and Kyle constantly have to remind him about deadlines and big projects.

On his 16th birthday, his dad gave him his old pick up truck.

Tolkien comes over often and they do homework together. He helps Stan with math a lot.

Stan and Kyle still consider themselves best friends even if they don't live right next door.

Crimson Dawn meets up often, practicing at Stan's since they can be as loud as they want there.

Sometimes friends like Kyle, Wendy, Timmy, and Tolkien come over to just hang out with the others and watch the band practice.

Stan and Wendy have been off and on since elementary school. It's obvious when they're not dating since Stan sometimes relapses back into his goth phase.

Stan and Tolkien have hooked up on a few occasions when Stan and Wendy broke up.

Tolkien has also dated Wendy on more than one occasion.

Stan is the type of kid that casually gets along with every “clique” in school since he doesn't really have beef with anyone. He's a very chill guy who often reacts pretty indifferently to most things.

⋆｡°✩Kenny Mccormick:

5’8”. Very skinny, mainly due to a poor diet. Wavy dirty blonde hair, tends to grow it out or cuts it short depending on his mood. Purple eyes. Front tooth gap.

Kenny's been working overtime while attending school since middle school. He gets paid under the table for most of it.

He saved up just enough to buy a really run down, beat up, used car. It's a stick shift and requires a ton of repairs.

He learned a lot about mechanics in order to save money and not have to take it anywhere to get fixed.

He learned how to drive stick shift and how to fix a car through YouTube.

He takes and picks up Karen from school. He also pays for all of her school supplies and encourages her to pick up extracurriculars.

Kenny doesn't have to study in order to get good grades in school. He barely has to do his homework either. As long as he listens to the lectures and skims through the material, he’ll pass. If he didn’t work overtime then he would be highly ranked in their year.

Kenny barely sleeps 4 hours a day. 5 on a good day.

He plans to keep working at the same pace and go to a trade school. Once he is more settled and his sister is an adult able to stand on her own, he might go back to school but he doesn't really stress about it and prefers living day by day then worrying about the future.

⋆｡°✩Leopold Butters Scotch:

5’9”. Lanky. Light blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

Works while attending school. Is very good at saving money.

Bought his own car at 16. Very safe driver with the occasional outburst of road rage.

Bought his own gaming PC. It's Hello Kitty themed. His favorite games are Animal Crossing and Hello Kitty Island Adventure.

Does very well in school.

Tutors others in his free time.

Volunteers to read for preschoolers at the community library.

Works as a summer camp counselor during the summers.

Cartman copies his homework when he isn't looking.

Part of the Board Game club and the Cheerleading squad.

Still gets grounded by his parents a lot but plans to live in College dorms soon.

Misc.

⋆｡°✩Clyde is part of the football team and basketball team. Sports are his bread and butter. He doesn't do well academically. Cry baby. Is on and off with Bebe.

⋆｡°✩Craig is captain of the space club. Wants to become an astronaut. Has been consistently dating Tweek ever since getting shipped by the Asian girls.

⋆｡°✩Tweek works at his dad's coffee shop while attending school. It has become a bit of a hub for the kids to hang out so it's doing well and he gets paid well. Is great at saving money. Loves playing DnD and really gets into character. Attends the space club with Craig.

⋆｡°✩Tolkien is a star student. Plays basketball, football, and is in the student council. Has dated Nichole, Wendy, Stan, and Clyde. None of his relationships ever end poorly. Is friendly with everyone. Is arguably the most popular, well liked kid in school.

⋆｡°✩Bebe is bisexual and has dated a few of the girls when off with Clyde. Clyde has no game however and barely dates anyone when they are broken up. She's part of cheerleading, volleyball, and the yearbook club. She's a minor influencer online, focusing on fashion, beauty, feminism, and human rights.

⋆｡°✩Wendy and Kyle constantly compete for valedictorian. She's captain of the debate team, cheerleading squad (Bebe vice captain), and volleyball team (Nichole vice captain). Stan and her have almost consistently dated with some hiccups here and there. They don't break up as often as Clyde and Bebe but when they have, she's dated Tolkien and Bebe briefly. She volunteers in a multitude of different organizations and feels very passionate about every cause she takes up. Has a substantial following on Twitter where she's very vocal about her beliefs.

#south park #south park fanfiction #south park headcanons #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #kyman #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #leopold butters stotch #butters stotch #butters leopold stotch #wendy testaburger #stendy #bebe stevens #clyde donovan #clybe #be nice to me #drowned in the lily pond rip #bunny

79 notes · View notes

revolutionsingingintherainnn · 4 months ago

Note

hey! another Carlos x desi!reader where they both live in Madrid. And Carlos has gotten a two month break (let's say the break that's been going after the abu dhabi grand prix).

it's the morning after, where she's still in bed cause Carlos told her he wants to surprise her with breakfast in bed. And he makes poha (or anything else you want to go with sorry! it's just I'm marathi so like I'm a certified poha lover like every other marathi person) and also makes her favourite adrak wali chai. She's surprised how did he make all this and he tells her that he had learnt from her mom when he has been to India with her for diwali. He wanted to make her happy by making some homemade desi food for her because she misses food made by her mom

seal of approval˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

⟢ cs x desi!reader ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

⟢ fluff ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

masterlist ☾☼

it's the morning after the abu dhabi grand prix, and carlos gets a richly deserved two-month break. you're still in bed, the madrid sun barely visible through the curtains, when you hear carlos clattering around in the kitchen. he'd told you that he would surprise you with breakfast in bed, and the delicious smell wafting through the apartment certainly got your attention.

you stretch out languidly, a small smile on your lips. carlos was always so considerate, even with his wild schedule. you wonder what gastronomic masterpiece he's come up with this time. perhaps some churros? or maybe those yummy 'huevos rotos' he knows you adore?

a few minutes pass, and carlos enters the room with the flourish of a practiced waiter, balancing a tray in his hands. your eyes go wide with wonder. it's not churros. it's not huevos rotos. it's… poha! and not only that, but the very poha your mom used to make, perfectly balanced between sweet, sour, and spicy. next to it is a steaming cup of adrak wali chai, its ginger aroma blending well with the smell of the poha.

"sweet surprise!" carlos smiles, his eyes aglow with slyness. "hope you like it. know it's a bit not typical spanish food, but…"

you sit up straight, resting back against the pillows, completely aghast. "carlos… how….?" you have the presence of mind to exclaim, indicating towards the tray. "poha? made by you? and chai?"

he grins, setting the tray in your lap. "well, i had a secret advantage. do you remember when we traveled to india for diwali with your family? i might have picked up a few… cooking tips from your mom. she's an amazing instructor, you know."

you look at him, a combination of amazement and love churning within you. "you learned how to make poha from my mom? just to surprise me?"

carlos shrugs, a sheepish smile spreading over his face. "well, i know you get homesick sometimes, and especially miss your mom's cooking. i thought… maybe a little bit of home would bring you joy."

you can't help but giggle, a warm sensation filling your chest. "joy? carlos, i'm beyond joy! this is… this is the kindest thing anybody's ever done for me."

you bite into the poha, and your eyelids shut in rapture. it is exactly like your mom's – airy, light, and exploding with flavour. the adrak wali chai complements it just right, making you warm inside.

"it's perfect," you whisper, a true smile on your lips. "absolutely perfect."

carlos looks at you, his face relaxing. "i'm happy you like it. i was a little anxious, honestly. your mom has pretty high standards."

"she does," you confirm, taking another bite of poha. "but you know what? i think you've officially got her seal of approval."

carlos smiles, clearly happy. "really? that's high praise indeed."

you both laze around the morning in bed, talking and giggling, the madrid sunlight and the softness of desi home food pouring into the air. and while you take your last sip of chai, you can't help but feel that you are really lucky to have carlos with you. he may not be a marathi, but he definitely knows the path to your heart – through yummy poha and a whole lot of love.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this! i have been taking a bit of a break recently! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #cs55 #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x desi!reader #cs x yn

48 notes · View notes

r3starttt · 7 months ago

Note

Can't let anybody know i'm a Maddie Nolen supporter in these trying times

And she was so fine, likeee

LMFAO MEMEMEME

like I'm so sorry but I just won't hate on her.

she's so iconic(? she literally made her way into the enforcers, with vi AND cait and into the most private life and spaces of caitlyn with no suspicion about it?! caitlyn allowed her to be near her all the time in the most vulnerable moments like she had her in her room, naked, she had her taking care of her dad, she had her while doing a private "ceremony" for her mom. Maddie could've done so much more if this season hadn't been so rushed like I feel she genuinely had so much potential and she did SO GOOD.

also when she was about to kill cait? "I did appreciate your warmth" DIVA

I really wish they would've showed how she became this spy and how was she actually working with all the information she had about everything.

Her little appearances were iconic and she's iconic and honestly... great character cs she's the only one (or so I can think about rn) that wasn't caught by anyone ANYTIME even tho she was the one who stayed closest to everyone all the time.

So yeah, I support my wife's canceled casual hookup loser lesbian ginger girl.

#maddie nolen #maddie arcane #maddie nolan #arcane #arcane season 2 #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman arcane #caitlyn arcane #L♡VE જ⁀➴ arcane #ANSWERS ✶.ᐟ

79 notes · View notes

crossstitchpatterns · 8 months ago

Text

Instructions below

For House Exterior, use marker to draw outline of the window and door openings as indicated by dashed line on pattern onto one sheet of perforated plastic. Cut out along marker lines; set window and door pieces aside. Cut window and door openings from remaining piece of plastic in the same manner, Except discard window and door pieces.

Cut a 3x15 inch strip from short end of Aida. Use reserved perforated plastic windows and doors as patterns to cut to matching pieces from Aida strip. Set aside plastic and Aida pieces.

Find center of one sheet of plastic and center of house chart; begin stitching there. Stitch the entire chart except window and door openings. Use three plies of cotton or rayon floss to work cross stitches all the way around the edges of openings; do not leave and unstitched rows. Work back-stitches and french knots as specified by the key. Use one ply of matching floss to attach beads.

For windows and doors, work each area of chart inside dashed lines on a reserved piece of plastic. Work cross-stitches all the way to the edges of the piece; Do not leave any unstitched rows. sew beads to windows and doors. Glue a same sized piece of Aida to back of each piece. Use sewing thread and ladder stitched to attach windows and doors to house.

Position stitched plastic over remaining sheet of plastic. Use sewing thread to join layers together at window and door openings. Join the outside edges of rectangles together with overcast stitches using three plies.

For background, tape or zigzag edges of Aida to prevent fraying. Find center of chart and center of fabric; begin stitching from there. Use three plies of cotton floss or two plies of rayon floss to work cross-stitches. Work backstitches and french knots as specified. Press.

Position exterior atop background so motifs show through window and door openings. Baste at sides to hold in place. Frame as desired.

1 note · View note

aryinewoul · 3 months ago

Text

some April fools raffle designs

the ginger cat with worm tail is being hosted in my discord server actually

the other two are for a pretty dead cs, still waiting to have them approved </3

the link to that server can be found within my server though free myos upon entry as well but again, it's a dead as hell server

wouldn't recommend (don't tell my superiors 😔)

21 notes · View notes

lucky-clover-gazette · 11 months ago

Text

kings rising highlights & annotations

chapter 9

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

The next morning, they had to sit next to each other.

me when i’m a high school junior and had a huge falling out with my best friend who i’m totally not in love with last night but we still have to coexist in ap english class

The joint thrones today were under a silk awning, raised to protect Laurent’s milkmaid skin from the sun.

BRUTAL

Lady Vannes murmuring into the ear of a new female pet

oooooh what happened to the old one? drama alert!!

A part of Damen acknowledged, a little guiltily, that Laurent probably hadn’t deserved to get thrown around the training arena as a result.

laurent would disagree

Nikandros said, without looking next to him, ‘Your uncle has wiped out half of our army with two hundred men.’ ‘And a belt,’ said Laurent.

nikandros private twitter vent #11. incoherent violent stick figure jpegs

Damen said, ‘At least someone else has a chance to win at javelin.’

i understand that people like sports and it’s a fun thing to add to a pretty serious story but i am the buzzkill here and ugh. sports

In the stands, slaves rhythmically raised and lowered fans and brought shallow cups of wine that everyone drank except Laurent.

me getting ginger beer at the bar yesterday while the dude i was with drank an espresso martini and two whiskeys

He came forward naked, as was the custom in Akielos.

i feel like violent dangerous sports are a really good occasion to wear MORE clothing, but go off i guess

The two men scooped oil from the receptacle brought to them by the stewards, anointed their bodies with it, then they slung their arms around one another’s shoulders, and, on the signal, heaved. The crowd cheered, the men grappled, their bodies straining against each other in slippery hold after slippery hold, until Pallas finally had Elon panting, on the grass, the sounds an eruption from the crowd.

this is like the not-evil twin of the veretian court wrestling

Damen rose from the throne, and put his hand to the gold brooch at his shoulder. His garment dropped and the crowd roared its approval.

you know, damen’s lack of freaking out about some of the indignities of the veretian court make more sense now

‘Good fight,’ he said, taking his place again on the throne beside Laurent. He waved over some wine. ‘What is it?’ ‘Nothing,’ said Laurent, and found somewhere else to put his eyes.

hang in there buddy

‘What can we expect next? I really feel,’ said Vannes, ‘it might be anything.’

i love the slight disdain here

‘Who did this to you?’ ‘I did,’ Laurent said. Damen turned. Laurent stood in the entryway of the tent. He was arranged with elegant grace and his lazy, blue-eyed attention was all on Nikandros. Laurent said, ‘I meant to kill him, but my uncle wouldn’t let me.’ Nikandros took an impotent step forward but Damen already had a restraining hand on his arm. Nikandros’s hand had gone to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were on Laurent furiously. Laurent said, ‘He sucked my cock too.’ Nikandros said, ‘Exalted, I beg permission to challenge the Prince of Vere to a duel of honour for the insult that he has done to you.’ ‘Denied,’ said Damen. ‘You see?’ said Laurent. ‘He has forgiven me for the small matter of the whip. I have forgiven him for the small matter of killing my brother. All praise the alliance.’ ‘You flayed the skin from his back.’ ‘Not personally. I just watched while I had my man do it.’ Laurent said it with a fronded, long-lashed gaze. Nikandros looked physically sick with the effort of repressing his anger. ‘How many lashes was it? Fifty? One hundred? He might have died!’ Laurent said, ‘Yes, that was the idea.’

LAMEN HR COMPLAINT #8

god i FUCKING love this little confrontation. i appreciate how we can start easing into some more comedy with these specific characters, because nobody here is like actively enslaved or abused. they’re all on even footing, so shots can be fired for fun, and can be read as such. the analysis here, in short, is that damen and laurent are both insane about each other and nikandros just has to deal with it. laurent thinks it’s amusing to mess with nikandros, and to a lesser degree damen. and damen tolerates it because he knows laurent behind his performative cruelty, but can’t possibly explain that to nikandros. regardless, laurent has immunity from damen, which means he also has immunity from nikandros.

this is also a good way to show how both damen and laurent have started “settling” the matters of damen killing auguste and laurent punishing him in vere, since the last scene where both subjects were heavily referenced.

Angry as he was, Nikandros wouldn’t disobey a direct order. His training was too deeply ingrained.

i like this subtle moment. damen grew up in the same culture, yet one of his main Things in this series has always been disobeying orders he disagrees with. built different!

‘Why would you do that? He’ll defect.’ ‘He’s not going to defect. He is your most loyal servant.’ ‘So you push him to breaking point?’ ‘Should I have told him I didn’t enjoy it?’ said Laurent. ‘But I did enjoy it. I liked it most near the end, when you broke down.’

laurent calculated and performative cruelty to protect himself from being vulnerable, you know the drill by now

‘You didn’t have to come here. You could have sent a messenger.’ In the pause that followed, Laurent’s gaze shifted involuntarily sideways. A strange prickling passing over his skin, Damen realised that Laurent was looking at the polished mirror behind him at the reflection of his scars. Their eyes met again. Laurent wasn’t often caught out, but a single glance had betrayed him. They both knew it. Damen felt the hard ache of it. ‘Admiring your handiwork?’

damen: i know you came here on purpose to spend time with me alone when you totally didn’t have to laurent: [very obviously checks out damen’s bare back, and not just for the symbolism reasons] damen: you want to look at me so bad (because you have an emotional attachment to the marks and you want to torture us both about it, and also because you think i’m hot. in both cases you’re the desperate one here, i win)

‘I’ll join you after I’ve dressed. Unless you want to step closer. You can help stick in the pin.’ ‘Do it yourself,’ said Laurent.

this sounds like their prince’s gambit-era antagonistic, vaguely horny, reluctantly fond banter. we’re getting somewhere!

The fever pitch of the crowd was bloodthirsty. The okton brought that out in them, the danger, the threat of maiming. The second of two targets was hammered onto its struts, and the attendants gave the all clear. In the heat of the day, anticipation was an insect buzz, rising to a commotion on the south-western side of the field.

this is such a fucking terrible idea you are in a WAR. damen you are going to be KING. why are you risking your life to play a sports right now. it would be like if the person about to cure a disease decided to play a game of bowling with a 80% survival rate right before they finished the vaccine

Damen heard the reaction of those around him. The Veretian Prince was, at a glance, Damen’s athletic inferior. Certainly, he avoided the training fields. No Akielon had ever seen him fight, or take exercise. He had not participated in any of today’s contests. He had done nothing more than sit, elegant and relaxed, as now. ‘Veretians do not train in the okton,’ said Damen. ‘In Akielos, the okton is known as the sport of kings,’ said Makedon. ‘Our own King will take the field. Does the Prince of Vere lack the courage to ride against him?’

makedon wants that twink obliterated

Damen waited for Laurent to sidestep, to evade, to find, somehow, the words to extricate himself from the situation. The flags fluttered loudly. The stands were silent, to a man. ‘Why not?’ said Laurent.

FSIUFHSDIUFHSDF i love laurent so much it’s unreal. this is the same response you’d give if a friend asked if you wanted to get takeout on a thursday night. “yeah, why not?” mr. “probably” laurent strikes again

Mounted, Damen faced the course, holding his horse ready at the starting line. His mount shifted, fractious, eager for the horn that would signal his start. Two horses down from his own, he could see Laurent’s bright head.

their horses who are canonically in love with each other get to do homoerotic sports too!!

But the true challenge of the okton was this: if you missed, your spear might kill your opponent. If your opponent missed, you were dead.

i was going to say “thankfully there are no real-life sports that sacrifice the physical well-being and possibly lives of eager-to-impress youths looking for glory and compensation” but then i remembered american college football exists

Laurent could also throw a spear. Probably.

probably.

But all of that meant nothing in the face of the okton. Men died during the okton. Men fell, men suffered permanent injury—from a spear; from hooves after a fall. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen could see the physicians, including Paschal, who waited on the sidelines, ready to patch and sew. There was a great deal at stake for the lives of the physicians, with royalty from two countries on the field. There was a great deal at stake for everyone.

not beating the american college football allegations

Damen could not aid Laurent in the contest.

he’ll kill one of his own people by throwing a sword across a clearing to save his captor in book 2, but he won’t use his kingly authority to say “hey guys maybe let’s not put both of the army’s leaders, one of whom is the love of my life and also my divorced husband, in the hunger games right now”

There was something intellectual in the way he assessed the field, and it set him apart from the other riders. For Laurent, physical pursuits were not instinctive, and for the first time it occurred to Damen to wonder if Laurent even enjoyed them. Laurent had been bookish as a boy, before he had re-formed himself.

“he should be at the (afterschool dungeons and dragons) club”

Laurent dealt with the danger of the okton by simply behaving as though it did not exist.

that tracks externally, but i also think that inside laurent’s brain he does acknowledge it, he just has a precise threshold of acceptable risk

Instinct reacted before thought. The spear was driving towards his chest; Damen caught it out of the air, his hand closing hard around the shaft, the momentum of it wrenching his shoulder back. He absorbed it, tightening his grip with his thighs to keep himself in the saddle.

this would be even more impressive if it was not the solution to a dangerous situation you ACTIVELY MADE HAPPEN

All his attention was on the other spear, flying towards Laurent. His heart jammed in his throat. On the other side of the course, Pallas was frozen. In that stricken moment of choice, Pallas could only decide whether to dodge and risk his cowardice killing a prince, or stand his ground and receive a spear to the throat. His fate was tied to Laurent’s, and unlike Damen, he had no recourse for what to do. Laurent knew it. Like Damen, Laurent had seen it early—had seen the strut collapse, had judged the outcome. In the handful of extra seconds that this afforded him, Laurent acted without hesitation. He released his reins—and as Damen watched, as the spear flew right for him—he jumped, not out of the way, but into the path of the spear, leaping from his horse to Pallas’s, dragging them both to the left. Pallas swayed, shocked, and Laurent bodily kept him down low in the saddle. The spear sailed past them and landed in the tufted grass like a javelin.

an akielion wouldn’t think to do THAT, would they!!

(also, love the little parallel to prince’s gambit, with damen ripping the grate out of the wall and laurent’s meticulous scheming. here it’s not as much a competition as it is a mutual/cooperative victory, with damen stopping the javelin mid-air and laurent intelligently evading the other one headed towards him)

The crowd went wild. Laurent ignored it. Laurent reached down and neatly filched Pallas’s last spear for himself. And, keeping Pallas’s horse at a gallop—as the sounds of the crowd swelled to a crescendo—he threw it, sending it flying right into the centre of the final target. Completing the okton one spear ahead of Pallas and of Damen, Laurent drew his horse up in a little circle, and met Damen’s gaze, his pale brows rising, as if to say, ‘Well?’ Damen grinned. He hefted the spear he had caught, and from where he was on the far side of the course, threw; let it go sailing over the full, impossible length of the field, to thunk into the target alongside Laurent’s spear, where it rested, quivering. Pandemonium.

they are both That Bitch. perfect for each other, and now everyone knows it (kinda) <3

After, they crowned each other with laurels.

cute

There was a warmth in his chest whenever he looked at Laurent. He didn’t look often for that reason.

Their men would ride out unified, and if there was a crack down the centre, no one knew about it. He and Laurent were good at pretending.

no they’re not. they’re just becoming more entertaining and endearing than annoying and frustrating, so people are more likely to listen to them

Laurent took his place on one of the lounging couches like he was born to it. Damen sat alongside him.

and all was right with the universe

The whole room went silent. Makedon and Laurent faced one another. The silence stretched out. ‘You have the mind of a snake,’ Makedon said. ‘You have the mind of an old bull,’ said Laurent. They stared at one another. After a long moment, Makedon waved at the slave, who came forward with a fat-bellied bottle of Akielon spirits and two shallow cups. ‘I will drink with you,’ said Makedon.

i love this unlikely friendship. laurent is being socialized like a feral kitten

Laurent glanced at the wine that the slave had poured, and Damen knew with absolute certainty that if it was wine, Laurent wasn’t going to drink. Damen braced himself for the moment when every scrap of goodwill that Laurent had garnered for himself was thrown away—as every tenet of Akielon hospitality was insulted, and Makedon swept forever out of the hall. Laurent picked up the cup in front of him, drained it, then returned it to the table. Makedon gave a slow nod of approval, lifted his own cup, downed it. And said, ‘Again.’

extremely loud airhorn goes off SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS

Later, when a great many overturned cups scattered the low table, Makedon leaned forward and told Laurent he must try griva, the drink from his own region, and Laurent downed it and said it tasted like swill, and Makedon said, ‘Ha, ha, true!’ Later, Makedon told the story of his first games, when Ephagin won the okton, and the bannermen grew misty-eyed, and everyone had another drink. Later, everyone roared when Laurent was able to balance three empty cups on top of each other, while Makedon’s cups fell over.

is this just what frat parties are like?

Laurent maintained a scrupulous posture until they were all gone, his eyes dilated, his cheeks slightly flushed. Damen spread his arm over the back of his own seat and waited. After a long moment, Laurent said, ‘I’m going to need some help standing up.’

i love that damen just Waited. he knew. he wanted laurent to admit it. they’re so funny

He wasn’t expecting to receive Laurent’s full weight, but he did, a warm arm slung around his neck, and he was suddenly breathless with the feeling of Laurent in his arms. His hands came up to steady Laurent’s waist, his heart behaving strangely. It was sweetly, impossibly illicit. He felt the ache in his chest. Damen said, ‘The Prince and I are retiring,’ and waved the lingering slaves out. ‘It’s this way,’ said Laurent. ‘Probably.’

‘Is today the first time you’ve been beaten in an okton?’ ‘Technically, it was a draw,’ said Damen. ‘Technically. I told you I was quite good at riding. I used to beat Auguste all the time when we raced at Chastillon. It took me until I was nine to realise he was letting me win. I just thought I had a very fast pony. You’re smiling.’ He was smiling.

drunk laurent happily telling damen about auguste :’) also the “you’re smiling” is so adorable, i love how we’re getting some dorky soft laurent finally. he contains multitudes. this, like, “suddenly aware that he’s being cute and appreciated for it, slightly indignant but also allowing it because it’s damen who thinks he’s cute” thing is wonderful and tbh i hope i can someday allow myself to be like that too :)

‘Am I talking too much? I can’t hold alcohol at all.’ ‘I can see that.’ ‘It’s my fault. I never drink. I should have realised I’d need to, with men like these, and made an effort to . . . build up some sort of tolerance . . .’ He was serious. ‘Is that how your mind works?’ said Damen. ‘And what do you mean, you never drink?

drunk laurent is so funny. and i love how damen is amused, endeared, and absolutely fascinated by the inner workings of this man. me too.

also, it's insane that laurent would ever ask if he's talking too much. taking too much is like his entire thing

side note: this is 100% how i am when i use any kind of mind-altering substances, like a sedative before a root canal. i remember detailing how i felt in my notes app at the time and then reading it later and being both impressed by the determination to remain incoherent and amused by the inserted notes of “why am i laughing” “why is everything funny”

You were drunk the first night I met you.’ ‘I made an exception,’ said Laurent, ‘that night. Two and a half bottles. I had to force myself to get it down. I thought it would be easier drunk.’ ‘You thought what would be easier?’ said Damen. ‘“What”?’ said Laurent. ‘You.’ Damen felt the hairs rise over his whole body. Laurent said it softly, and as though it was obvious, his blue eyes a little hazy, his arm still around Damen’s neck. They were gazing at one another, halted in the half-light of the passage. ‘My Akielon bed slave,’ said Laurent, ‘named for the man who killed my brother.’

“no shit, i got drunk”

It wasn’t unusual for two young men to wander the halls together, swaying, after a revel—even among princes—and Damen could pretend for a moment that they were what they seemed to be: brothers in arms. Friends.

you guys got publicly married-divorced and laurent told an entire army that you fucked each other multiple times. you wear matching arm cuffs. even your horses are in love. be so serious rn

The guards on either side of the entrance were too well trained to react to the presence of royalty leaning all over each other.

They Pretend They Do Not See It (not an HR complain bc they’re not really bothering anyone or breaking rules)

‘No one is to enter,’ Damen ordered the guards. He was aware of the implication—Damianos entering a bedchamber with a young man in his arms and ordering everyone out—and he ignored it. If Isander suddenly had a startling reason why the frigid Prince of Vere had foregone his services, so be it.

oh nooooo what a shame if isander backed off from your man, what an unintended and unfortunate consequence, oh nooooooo

Laurent, intensely private, would not want his household present while he dealt with the effects of a night’s worth of drinking.

just got a vision of laurent as heather chandler in the hangover/death scene. wearing that cunty little robe and talking shit

Laurent was going to wake with a blinding headache fuelling his corrosive tongue, and pity anyone who ran into him then. As for Damen, he was going to give Laurent a push in the small of his back and send him staggering the four steps to the bed. Damen unlooped Laurent’s arm from his neck, disengaged himself. Laurent took a step under his own power, and lifted a hand to his jacket, blinking. ‘Attend me,’ Laurent said, unthinkingly. ‘For old time’s sake?’ said Damen. It was a mistake to say that. He stepped forward and put his hands on the ties of Laurent’s jacket. He began to draw the ties from their moorings. He felt the curve of Laurent’s ribcage as the tie threaded through its eye. The jacket tangled at Laurent’s wrist. It took some effort to get it off, disordering Laurent’s shirt. Damen stopped, his hands still inside the jacket.

Under the fine fabric of Laurent’s shirt, Paschal had bound Laurent’s shoulder to strengthen it. He saw it with a pang. It was something Laurent would not have let him see sober, a keen breach of privacy. He thought of sixteen spears thrown, with a constant effort of arm and shoulder, after rough exertion the day before.

fuck, that’s right. damn laurent

Damen took a step back, said: ‘Now you can say you were served by the King of Akielos.’ ‘I could say that anyway.’

he may be white girl wasted but he’s still our laurent

Lamp-lit, the room was filled with orange light, revealing its simple furnishings, the low chairs, the wall table with its bowl of fresh-picked fruit.

this time, the fruit basket guy just showed the kitchen staff a bunch of ao3 fics tagged “in vino veritas” and told them to make it work

Laurent was a different presence in his white undershirt.

makes him sound like a cryptid. blonde man jumpscare

They were gazing at each other.

we know.

‘I miss you,’ said Laurent. ‘I miss our conversations.’

he would not have admitted this under torture

(also, i really like how he misses their conversations first and foremost. laurent really does love damen for his mind and heart, more than anything else. damen is the same, but he's a lot more vocally into the other parts of laurent too)

It was too much. He remembered being strapped to the post and half killed; sober, Laurent had made the line very clear, and he was aware that he had crossed it, they both had.

damen is still afraid to potentially take advantage of laurent, especially because of what happened the first time laurent interpreted his advances in such a light (ow)

‘You’re drunk,’ said Damen. ‘You’re not yourself.’ He said, ‘I should take you to bed.’ ‘Then, take me,’ said Laurent.

Laurent lay where Damen put him, on his back in a half-open shirt, his hair tumbled, his expression unguarded. His knee was pushed out to the side, his breathing was slow as one in sleep, the thin fabric of his shirt lay against his skin, rising and falling with it. ‘You don’t like me like this?’

first thing, good for him. second thing, not good for him, because trauma, and the fact that he sees himself as a sexual object (i went a lot more into this during the chapter 7 re-analysis)

‘You’re really . . . not yourself.’ ‘Aren’t I?’

i do think damen means this as a “you could punish me for taking advantage,” but i also think there is the fact that damen doesn’t want a version of laurent who isn’t in his right mind (like slaves, who aren’t given the ability to have minds of their own). this calls back to the whole “you like it simple” thing in chapter 7, and it’s pretty satisfying to see damen prove laurent wrong!

‘I tried to kill you. I can’t seem to go through with it. You keep overturning all my plans.’

said with hearts in his eyes <3

Damen found a water pitcher and poured water into a shallow cup that he brought to the low table by Laurent’s bed. Then he emptied the fruit bowl of fruit and put it on the floor alongside, to be used as a drunk soldier might use an empty helmet.

THEY WORKED HARD ON THAT THEMATICALLY RELEVANT FRUIT BASKET >:( although perhaps this is its true thematic relevance? a means of damen helping laurent care for himself in recovery?

‘Laurent. Sleep it off. In the morning, you can punish us both. Or forget this ever happened. Or pretend to.’ He did all of this quite adeptly,

at least he’s getting more self-aware about his own blind spots, or at least his ability to have them

Laurent, falling through scattered thoughts into sleep, said, ‘Yes, uncle.’

i think this line honestly might have been a step too far. not necessarily because it’s a bad thing for laurent to say, i get that it makes sense for him to associate this kind of vulnerability with [redacted], and it’s even possible that laurent doesn’t drink now because the regent got him drunk before he [redacted].

why i think it miiiiiiight not work, is the fact that damen doesn’t oh fuck wait i JUST made note of a line where damen acknowledges how he can “quite adeptly” ignore things, literally a few sentences ago. i can’t even say he would have noticed, or made note of it, because that is his character. and the irony is like right there on the page. it’s frustrating to read, but it’s an intentional choice. well played as usual!

#we are so fucking back #sam reads capri #capri #captive prince #kings rising #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #lamen

49 notes · View notes

ochrearia · 9 months ago

Text

Little Lullabies

Holy shit why is this 4k words long what the fuck is wrong with me (I know why it's literally just a compilation of 8 ~500 word drabbles put into one post because they're all kind of connected) HEY YOU GUYS LIKE HURT/COMFORT?

BFs in this One-Shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), Cyborg!BF (Cyber, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Candy!BF (Blue, Slushgut's), Yourself (YS)

It was a little funny how Biff was more likely to go over to YS’s place than the other way around these days. At the start it wasn’t even possible for him to do that, so it made it seem like the smaller was making up for lost time every time he mirror-walked over.

This was not one of those days, though.

YS was proving to be a hypocrite. Just a little bit. He’d made Biff promise not to take on his bad emotions and feelings anymore after the one time. But now as he was sitting here, Biff pitifully laid across his chest, he really wanted to take a page out of his book and take his suffering away. Would that even work with how it was? He didn’t know, didn’t stop him from wanting to.

Biff was sick. Most likely nothing left in his stomach, everything having been emptied into the toilet earlier. Cherry was stuck at her parents’ for the weekend, and Pico had gone out to get a few things for the poor guy. YS was here to make sure Biff wasn’t alone as per his Pico’s request. The ginger had refused to leave the apartment otherwise. YS could have been the one to go out and let him stay with his boyfriend, but it wasn’t his world, he didn’t know where basic stores were. And by the time he’d realized he could just go back to his own to buy things, Biff had already gotten surgically attached to him.

“Pico should be back soon, little man.” YS said softly, a hand rubbing gently across Biff’s back. The small, in-pain whines he was hearing from the other was making him more upset than he needed to admit. “The worst of it should be over, you’ll start feeling better soon.”

“Stomach hurts.” Biff complained softly, his energy having been drained a while ago. “Trying to sleep, keep jolting… Can’t fall asleep fast enough.”

Well that wouldn’t do.

YS sighed, slightly frustrated that he couldn’t do more. He gently pulled Biff a little farther up into his arms, not wanting to aggravate his stomach more than it already was. It was easy to curl around his other selves when he was the tallest of them all. Regardless of his hesitations about his voice when it came to humming things, YS pushed that aside and let himself bring a bit of a lullaby into the air.

It was one he’d hummed to Biff before. Not the more music-box version of his own song, he’d only used that once and decided to take up a different to-go instead after. Personalized comfort, a song just for him when he needed it. It always worked, thankfully. YS could feel him sag further into his hold, the pained breaths becoming slower and more deep as he continued.

His Pico would be back soon, and Biff would probably need to be awake again to take some medicine and other things, whatever the hitman was getting. But YS saw no harm in leading him to doze off for a little. He needed the rest.

______________________________________________

Hot ball of hollow fire you are. YS thought to himself, slightly amused. It was rather interesting how quickly Beef had gone from being the equivalent of an angry rat backed up into a corner around him to completely okay and willing to be close. He was still surprised the other had the courage to go up to him and ask directly to be a little brother too. Not at all what he’d expected from Beef of all of the instances.

It was more than okay with him, though. Meant YS could do more to help, and be more efficient with it too.

It also made him happy that all of them along the line wanted to be his little brother but that wasn’t the point.

Beef had gotten overly-angry at something as far as YS could tell, and had come here as a way to cool off and remove himself from the situation. It wasn’t an argument with his partners according to him, which was good. But he was still adamantly refusing to say what he even got mad about. A little concerning, but he couldn’t force it. If they wanted to trust him then they would. It’s not like he could be talking, considering just how much he was hiding from all of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? Not even a little?” YS tried again, immediately going back on what he’d just thought. Just one more try.

“No.” Beef grumbled, shoving his face further into YS’s shoulder. “No talking. I don’t pay you to talk. Just want a hug.”

YS grinned, rolling his eyes as he let his arms encircle tighter around the other. Hug? Yeah, he could do that. Apparently he was really good at it. His best skill some would say, which was hilarious, but a nice feeling. Beef was hesitant in his endeavors asking for affection, so him being so direct about it was enough to earn him exactly what he wanted.

I wonder… YS thought, letting his mind wander a little into his own memories. Personalized comfort was always nice to have. There wasn’t much to be changed about a hug, not that any of them seemed to want it to change. But there was another thing he could do. Picking out a different one from his thoughts this time, he began to hum. Not the same melody he had for Biff, no. A different one picked specifically for Beef when he would need it.

Gotcha, you little shitter. YS thought mischievously when his humming coaxed Beef to all but melt into his embrace. Good to know that what worked on one would work on the rest in terms of offering comfort. Choosing a different tune for each would be a fun little game. You think you’re so smug having blackmail on me, don’t you? Now we’re even. But that’s a story for another time, I think. You’re safe to cool off here for as long as you need it.

______________________________________________

Boyf proved harder to completely curl around when he needed comfort. His fault for deciding to be a tall instance really, without the power to shapeshift. Didn’t stop him from being an oversized baby sometimes. Realistically, they kind of all were. But dammit, couldn’t this guy at least be a little shorter so he could be good at his hugging job? One of the apparent good parts of YS’s hugs was how he was able to completely surround them.

Boyf had a nightmare, apparently. He was getting nightmares often as of late. Why he’d come to YS in search of comfort compared to his partners was beyond him really, but he was here. And then he’d had the gall to look almost offended by the fact the taller had been awake at this god-forsaken hour. YS didn’t really sleep that much, they had to have figured that out by now.

The song YS had chosen as his to-go for Boyf was a little different. Somewhere along the line he’d gone searching for songs that weren’t exactly upbeat or uplifting to begin with, and he was using those to pick from and spin into comforting sounds instead. He wasn’t entirely sure if this one was working, though, because Boyf seemed to be grabbing tighter to his hoodie the more he hummed, and he really couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad emotional response.

“You okay?” YS asked gently, pausing his humming. He got a noise of complaint in response.

“Why’d you stop, don’t stop.” Boyf’s thoughts echoed in his head. “Keep going… please keep going. Miss my sister, she used to sing to me when I was upset…”

Ah. Good emotional response, then, entirely by accident. Boyf hadn’t done much to speak about his siblings aside from the fact he had them. YS knew his brother was Ritz, younger brother. And somehow it was a common theme across multiple universes that Hatsune Miku-- Yes, THAT Hatsune Miku-- was a sister. Kind of hysterical to think about, but he supposed weirder things had happened.

YS picked up where he left off, deciding that this song was a keeper. This would be the go-to for Boyf. He was still running with the personalized comfort idea, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized the things he was willing to do for them were things he’d wish he had someone do for him. It’s not like he’d tell them he had personalized lullaby choices for each of them though. They didn’t need to know all things considered. That would ruin his already fragmented facade.

“Keep going…” Boyf’s thoughts repeated as he snuggled further into YS’s arms. “Might fall back asleep here…”

YS sighed gently, bringing a hand up to scratch softly in Boyf’s hair. Such was his fate, getting stuck under another one of his selves. Well, it’s not like he was doing anything important anyway. Staring despondent at the ceiling isn’t so despondent when you had someone and their warmth to keep you company.

______________________________________________

YS knew that there was never going to be a time where you’d just be fully fine with severe changes to your body. He knew that very well, because most times he could be fine by not thinking about it but there would be other times where it would eat him alive. Beefer was no exception to this rule, but he kind of wished that he’d be that lucky. He wasn’t of course. There wasn’t much he could do about it other than just be there for the Dinaurian.

Beefer was hiding his face adamantly against YS’s chest. His eyes were closed, because he didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to see the tail, the overly pale white of his skin, didn’t want to see the elongated ears and claws, didn’t want to see himself. Changing species against your will wasn’t something YS had any experience with, but he assumed it was a special kind of hell to deal with.

“I’m grateful to be alive.” Beefer mumbled against the fabric of his big brother’s hoodie, almost like he was trying to… distract himself? Convince himself? “I’m grateful to be alive and that will never change. I just wish… it hadn’t been this way. Or that I didn't have to feel so gross about it.”

“I’m glad you’re alive too.” YS said carefully, unsure how to tread on this. “And I’m sure your Cherry and Pico are too. I wish I could say how to not hate it, seeing features that you never used to have. But I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t.” Beefer sighed. “I can’t expect you to. I just… wanted some comfort without judgment. Not that they would do that, probably, I don’t know. I don’t need to be giving them any more problems than we already have. They’re getting suspicious on why I disappear for so long randomly too. I can’t explain all this, not now, I don’t even know where I would begin…”

“You don’t have to.” YS placated quickly, letting his arms wrap around the Dinaurian softly. “Don’t worry about any of that shit here. If you need an escape then that’s what you’ll get. Try not to get yourself too in over your head with the secrets, though, okay?”

Beefer nodded, too tired now to respond. YS tilted his head with a sigh, knowing that this was sadly the best he could do. With the short conversation over, he put into practice his little plan again. Another lullaby came tumbling gruffly from his throat, this one being more of a proper lullaby compared to the rest. If nothing else, he could offer this to the smaller one.

At least it was doing something, though. Every time his target of comfort relaxed or snuggled closer, YS took relief in knowing he was at least doing something. Beefer would have to go back to his world soon to make sure his friends didn’t completely freak out about his absence, but for now he was free to stay and forget his problems.

______________________________________________

Compared to some of the others, YS hadn’t actually seen Peacock get genuinely upset about something much at all. Suppose that was a positive side to not caring much at all about most things, it made it easier to roll with sudden changes and unfavorable results to things. Sometimes not caring so much was a good thing, but YS couldn’t stomach the idea of doing that. God knows he cared almost too much. But that was him. He was actually a little lost for words on how he could make this better.

Peacock was more insistent to try and help YS with his problems despite being tight-lipped about them. So the fact he’d come through the mirror today looking like the world was ending, that was enough to freak the angel out a little. The hug and humming combo immediately jumped to his mind, and Peacock wasn’t complaining. So, hug it was.

It was thoughts about his Pico again. The ginger being so hesitant and cut off was bothering him. He didn’t understand why he was doing it again, running off on him when all he wanted was to have Pico back in his life and not have to worry about him disappearing again. Peacock wanted him there, but with the way the other was acting, it didn’t seem like that sentiment was a shared one. That would hurt anyone to figure out.

“He’s… being an idiot.” YS decided, resting his chin on the top of Peacock’s head. “I don’t know what his deal is. I don’t really know how to help, either. But you should at least know you don’t deserve this nonsense.”

“I just want him around.” Peacock grumbled softly, returning the other’s hug eagerly. “He doesn’t listen to me when I say that. Always rushing off and making excuses. Fuck, I was so happy when I ran into him again. Now it’s like I’m watching him pull away more and more each time he accidentally gets in my line of sight.”

Hopefully this idiot will stop doing that and come around or I swear I’ll go over there myself. YS thought. His ability to mirror-walk was still locked behind needing the rest to look at a mirror, or at least accidentally be reflected in something for him to get through. He was sure that would happen eventually, and YS could go on a hunt for this idiotic hitman. Though he was unsure if Peacock would want that.

There wasn’t much else he could really say to help, so now seemed like a good time to practice the humming part of his hug-hum combo. Another instance, another personally picked tune. If anyone was going to get the song that felt like flying above the clouds, it would be him. Angels could sense other angels. Peacock had always kept his wings out of sight whenever YS saw him around, but he knew he had to at least have them still. The sky was still a comfort they could both agree on. Maybe he hugged a little tighter to the other too.

______________________________________________

Crying wasn’t allowed. YS already didn’t like crying when it was himself doing the crying, it made him feel stupid and ridiculous. An outward showing of his own turmoils that he hated letting other people know he even had. But when it was any of his other selves crying instead, somehow it made him feel even worse. It was like watching himself fall apart and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

Well, almost nothing.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fact that Bee was leaking silent tears while hugged to his chest, something that reminded him of himself and he hated the idea of any of them being like him, or the other possibility he could have gone with which was loud and unstoppable sobs. He’d prefer there to be no tears at all really. YS wasn’t entirely sure what exactly was wrong, if this had been caused by an action or words said, but anything that made his little brothers cry was bullshit and not allowed. God, they were turning him into such a dedicated protector, what was happening to him?

“Hey.” YS started softly, trying to capture Bee’s attention enough to get him to look up at him. “Come on now. I don’t know what’s going on, and I obviously won’t unless you want to tell me. But I can’t let you leave my apartment before you dry those tears.”

Bee just kept looking at him, unsure what to say. He knew what the problem was and even now with YS showing clear care for him his head was telling him it wasn’t deserved. I can’t believe I manipulated him into caring about me. “I just want to feel like I’m okay.”

A simple request and yet it wasn’t anything YS could fulfill for certain. He frowned slightly, offering Bee a sympathetic look as well as he could for how his face looked. “Not gonna let you leave until those tears dry.” He repeated. “I can’t do much other than remind you you’re wanted here.”

Bee buried his face back against YS at that, conflicting thoughts at war in his head. Face covered, he was slightly surprised when he heard YS start humming something. He’d heard the other sing before, he had a strong and commanding voice but it was nowhere to be found here. Gruff still, sure, but soft and comforting in a way he hadn’t heard before. A lullaby, for him? Soft and dragged out notes, no lyrics to be heard, just a melody.

As much as Bee felt like he didn’t deserve it, didn’t belong with any of them, he couldn’t stop the deep breath the sudden comfort drew from him. This was nice. Did he maybe deserve it after all?

“There you are, little man.” YS spoke between his hums, using the silly nickname he’d started using with Biff first. There were only so many variations he could say, after all. “You’re alright. Stay for as long as you need.”

______________________________________________

“Dude, be serious, you look like you’re about to pass out any second now.”

YS wasn’t even sure that Blue even had any problems to speak of. The dude was always overly happy and excited for basically everything, every time he’d come around to hang out was met with eyes full of wonder and an air of sunshine around him. But at the same time he came off as utterly clueless at best and straight up stupid at worst. To be fair, they were all stupid, but like, come on. Was this a persona he was putting up or was he genuinely just this excited and happy about everything? Maybe he was too air-headed to even tell he had problems.

It somehow didn’t seem like the dude even knew he wasn’t human as well. How do you go through life not knowing what you are? How do you just not know you’re an angel, has he just never looked in the mirror and seen literal wings and a halo?

“Noooo, no I’m fine!” Blue responded, clearly not fine. He looked just about ready to take the best afternoon nap of his life, but for some reason was stubbornly keeping his eyes open to stay watching shitty reality TV with his big brother. “I can stay awake, I don’t want to ruin my sleep schedule!”

“Dude.” YS snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s not worth it to stay awake watching this shit. Nothing I have is good and you don’t have to pretend like I have anything exciting to offer.”

The words were met with a pout. YS rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around him and guiding him into a hug. He’d already been heavily leaning into the taller’s shoulder and he put up no resistance. YS folded one hand into his hair and the other left comfortably on his back. “Take a nap, idiot. You’re clearly not going to last until your bedtime.”

“Bedtime? I’m not a five year old.” Blue fired back.

“Sure are acting like one right now.” YS teased, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Insisting on staying up because your big brother’s still up too? Very child-like behavior.”

It was fine, he was getting good at it now. Having all these times where his other selves came seeking comfort, and giving it all to them in the form of a hug paired with a lullaby. Blue didn’t necessarily need comfort in this scenario, but it wouldn’t hurt for YS to pick out a personalized melody for him too, just in case. Settling on another one he remembered hearing once, the tune rumbled from his throat while he let his hand massage into the other’s scalp.

“No fair…” Blue whined, already starting to lose the battle with his heavy eyelids. “Lullabies are cheating…”

“You’ll thank me later.” YS said in reply, a smug look on his face as the angel’s eyes slipped closed, body completely leaning into his own. Yeah, he was getting good at this.

Maybe he was proud about that.

______________________________________________

Maybe this time it was an instance where neither of them were okay. YS didn’t know how to handle this at all, looking at him made him want to tear his hair out and curse out whatever shitty excuse of a god was out there that let this happen. He knew he’d fallen into contact with this version far too early in the timeline, but he had been doomed to stay the moment he caught sight of him. Cyber. Another him, only 14 years old and possibly having the worst ending he’d seen yet. It wasn’t fair.

Cyber had died. He came from a world where the events at the school so many of the other instances of him experienced had gone wrong. They’d lost. The world was on the brink of ending and it was up to these kids to fix it. They’re just kids, how was that fair, it wasn’t fair, this wasn’t right. He’d died, only to be brought back as a fucked up science experiment by the aliens who’d attacked the school in the first place. A cyborg puppet meant to be used for destruction and conquering.

YS had found him locked in a shed with a dusty old mirror.

He couldn’t blame Cyber’s Pico fully. That Pico was also only 14, and what else was a kid supposed to do when they knew their dead boyfriend was dangerous, yet didn’t have the heart to let him go? Just kids, left to deal with all of this mess, this trauma. How was YS supposed to leave and wait for the timeline to advance to where they were the same age after seeing this?

He didn’t.

Cyber didn’t speak much to him, or at all really. The only thing YS had to go off of was the fact he wasn’t trying to attack him. Actually, the poor kid seemed to get attached to him rather quickly. His Pico had been slowly unlocking the human still left in him, and that part was fighting off the robotic programming. Slowly but surely, and the progress was far from linear. Sometimes it was all he could do to just not be violent, stay silent and huddle against the older for comfort. YS could do that. He could give comfort, because he was learning really fast he was entirely in over his head with some of his other selves. How was he supposed to fix this?

It was easy to completely curl around Cyber in a hug. Still small, he was supposed to be still growing at this point- would he even still get to? The lullaby he’d picked for the younger was repeating in his throat over and over, and for once it wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be. His voice shook slightly, catching on itself the more YS thought about how fucking sad this situation was.

He was good at comforting the rest. That’s what he did.

But who, YS thought bitterly, who would be left to comfort him?

#RGBFverse #Big chunky writing for everyone #Cyber's here now we have overthrown Keyy /silly #Poor YS at the end though. He didn't plan for getting overwhelmed himself...#Playlist linked at the end <3

15 notes · View notes