#Theodore Laurence x Reader

[riordanness]

champagne problems — [l.laurence]

wordcount: 3.2K

warnings: angst

requested: no

a/n: i really love this fic, i spent a super long time on it and it took me ages but i love it so i hope you love it too <3

“Thank you,” I tell my dance partner, another nameless, tasteless, personality-less boy I will never see again. I smile and curtsy, and turn away, as I do every time. No one will ever fill the hole in my heart the way that he did.

I spot Amy talking to Fred, and weave my way towards them. I don’t know anyone else by anything more than name, and it’s awkward. It’s stiff, it’s strange, and it’s uncomfortable. Trying to make friends with these men, men who couldn’t care less about my feelings or my ambitions; just my pretty face and my willingness to marry. Once they discovered I didn’t have my heart in that; at least not anymore, they lost all interest in me.

“Hey, y/n,” Amy greets me, offering me a glass of what I think is champagne.

“Thank you,” I tell her, and take a sip.

“How are you enjoying the party?” Fred addresses me.

I shrug, and try to smile. “It is alright.”

Amy has a sympathetic look on her face. She knows me a little bit too well. All the March sisters do, as well as… him. He knew me better than anyone. Or at least that’s what I thought.

“Laurie!” I laughed, giggling so hard I couldn’t even escape him. His arms caught me tightly, poking and tickling my waist. I squirmed, but the pure joy of being with him was almost overwhelming.

“What?” he teased. “What’s wrong, y/n? Hmm?”

“S-Stop!” I gasped for air, playfully hitting him on the arm. Well, it was a pretty hard punch, actually.

“Ow! Y/n!” Laurie released me and winced, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry!” I tried to stop laughing.

He stared at me for a heartbeat, and just as my smile faded, he then grinned. “Gotcha.”

His happiness was infectious. I was smiling again, laughing again, purely and completely content to live forever in this moment.

“Y/n.”

Amy’s voice is a warning, and my brain only hears it a minute after I should. “Hmm?” I ask, glancing up at her. She’s used to my daydreaming, so I assume she’ll just repeat her comment, but Amy isn’t looking at me. She’s staring sternly at the staircase at the entrance of this ballroom.

I turn, and there’s a half moment of anticipation. Who has arrived?

Then, I see him. His wrinkled white shirt, untied bow tie. The glass of alcohol held lazily in his hand. His unruly curls are even more uncombed and unkempt than usual. His eyes are light with mirth and dull from the drink. Two women are fawning over him from either side, and he’s drinking up the attention more eagerly than the champagne.

Laurie.

My breath catches in my throat, and I try to swallow the sudden lump there. “Ah, I see.”

Fred puts a hand on my shoulder, a protective, big-brother gesture. I really appreciate him. No matter how many times I end up basically third-wheeling him and Amy when they go out, he never minds. Amy has told him all about what Laurie did to me, so he decided to step in and try to help fill that hole.

And I love him for it, but no one will ever be capable of making me whole the way Laurie did. And I’m not sure if anyone ever will be able to.

I take a cautious sip of champagne, watching as Laurie drapes himself on a lounge on the opposite side of the room. The girls with him sink to their knees on either side of his body, fawning over the boy.

I don’t care how much expression is visible on my face right now; I can’t do anything but stare in a mix of disgust, disappointment and utter disbelief.

Then, he sees me. His eyes clear a little, they get wide and surprised all of a sudden. He attempts to sit up a little straighter.

I can’t watch anymore. I turn and shove my glass unceremoniously in Fred’s hands, and walk out of the room as quickly as I can manage, heading to the little moonlit garden path I know awaits me outside.

I laugh as Jo tells me about her plans for a new story.

“I want to turn this one into a play,” she adds. “And you should be in it! The main character is just the perfectest part for you to play, y/n.”

I roll my eyes teasingly. “First of all, ‘perfectest’ isn’t a word. And second, you know I don’t act. I’m not going to be any good!”

Jo shrugs. “Won’t know until you’ve tried it.”

I don’t answer, my gaze sliding back to all the dancers on the floor. I wish someone would ask me to dance. But I know no one here other than the March girls. And I can’t exactly dance with Jo. She has a burnt dress and isn’t allowed to dance. Not that she minds; she says she’d rather eat a stick than dance with any of the boys here.

Then, I see a boy with dark curls and pretty eyes staring at me from across the room. I tilt my head, and give a little wave and a half-smile.

He returns it immediately and makes his way over towards us.

“Hello there,” he greets me. “I’m Laurie.”

Jo looks at him. “You’re the Laurence boy. You live near us.”

Laurie nods his head at her. “Miss March.”

“Please. Call me Jo. Everyone does.”

“Jo.”

Laurie then glances at me. “I don’t think I know you.”

I hold my hand out to him. “Y/n, Mr Laurie. I’m friends with the Marches.”

He smiles again, and it’s so pretty my chest hurts. Is this what falling in love is like? Is it supposed to be painful? Supposed to feel like you’re being ripped apart and glued together all at the same time?

I lean myself on the wall outside, my head against the cool stone bricks. My head is pounding, my temples aching.

I didn’t think that seeing him again would have such a strong reaction from me, but apparently even my heart rate still hurts because of him.

I can hear footsteps, but I don’t have the energy to hide my distress from anyone right now. Hopefully whoever it is will just walk by and leave me be.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Laurie’s voice will forever bring me the biggest rush of emotions in the world, but where it used to invite happiness and joy, now entices fear and anxiety and anguish.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight. “Hello Laurie.” I’m surprised at how even my voice sounds. I expected it to come out shaky and distant.

“Hey.” He sounds unsure of what he’s doing. “What’s happening with you?”

My eyes are still closed, and I still have my head against the rocky wall. I shrug one shoulder. “Nothing much, thanks for asking.”

There’s three heartbeats of silence.

Then: “How are you?”

I sigh, open my eyes. “Laurie. Why are you doing this?”

His eyes are unreadable. “Doing what?”

“You know what.”

“Y/n, I…” His voice fades. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I give him a hard look. “Sorry? Laurie, this isn’t about what happened all those years ago. I’m over it; I’m over you.” I was lying through my teeth, but I refused to give him the satisfaction that knowledge would bring.

I sigh. “What are you doing, Laurie?” I wave my hand at him helplessly. “Drinking, probably gambling again? Fawning over random girls? Laurie, you’re better than this. And you know it, too. You’re throwing your life away, and I…” I swallow. “As your friend, I can’t just sit and watch. You need to stop this. Go home, go see your grandfather. Stop destroying the little boy he used to be so proud of.”

I turn, and walk away, leaving Laurie out there in the moonlight.

I don’t breathe until I reach Fred and Amy again. They’re laughing and drinking champagne together, but when they see me, the conversation dies.

“Hey, you okay?” Amy asks.

I try to nod, then tears glisten in my eyes and I have to drop. I shake my head, meeting my friend’s eyes. “I’m gonna go home,” I tell her.

She nods in understanding, her eyes searching mine, desperate for answers.

“I told him what he needed to hear,” I say quickly. “But—he still doesn’t know how much it hurts. And it hurts just to see him. It hurts deep in my soul. I—I can’t—“ I have to force myself to take a deep breath, sobs building in my chest.

I leave, Amy’s hand squeezing mine as I go.

I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling as ‘Aunt’ March chatters about how Fed and Amy are soon to be engaged, so I really must hurry and marry soon.

“Are you even listening to me, y/n?” she asks sharply.

I sit up straight in an instant. “Uh—yes of course, Ms March.”

“How many times must I ask you to call me Aunt,” she sighs. “You’re practically family at this point, my dear.”

I smile. “Alright, Aunt March.”

“Very good. Now, as I was saying…”

I zone back out as she talks, my mind drifting instead to Laurie. I truly had thought I was over him, or at least pretty much so. Rather, the moment I saw him, I thought I might explode. Seeing his smile, his eyes, the way he stands, it made all the memories just come flooding back.

“Laurie—“ I call, walking into his room one pretty Saturday morning. “Get up lazy bones. We’ve got things to do!”

The only response is a groan from underneath Laurie’s covers. I sit on the edge and poke at him.

“Come on!” I beg. “We’re gonna be late, you know.”

Laurie’s curls peep out. “Late for what?” he asks groggily.

I resist the urge to giggle. “Late for our adventures, of course. We have a walk planned, and you promised me you’d teach me fencing this weekend, and you have to keep that promise. It was a pinky promise.”

Laurie groans again. “I don’t want to get up, y/n.”

“What? Even to spend time with me?”

“Yes. Go away.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Theodore Laurence, not until you get—up—“ I poke him in the shoulder twice.

“Y/n!” he whines.

I laugh. “Yes, Laurie?”

He sticks his head fully out now, and looks at me. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, but I am not getting up yet.”

I ignore the flutter in my chest and grab his arm, pulling him hard. “Yes you are! I promised your grandfather I’d force you to exercise while he’s gone, and I intend to keep my promise.”

“Fine,” Laurie relents. He allows me to drag him out of bed, and after he’s dressed, the two of us head off into our favourite trail in the woods.

My heart hurts, and my head hurts, and my eyes hurt. I want to get up, go for a walk or something, but I can’t find it in me to do so. So I simply close my eyes and continue to lay face-up along the foot of my four-poster bed.

It doesn’t seem like long at all before someone is tapping my shoulder.

“Sorry, Amy,” I mumble, eyes still closed. “Did I drift off?”

“It’s… not Amy,” a quiet voice answers.

I sit up straight immediately, and come face to face with none other than Laurie Laurence.

“Hi.” He almost says it like a question.

I frown a little, unsure of the nature of this unexpected visit. “Hello, Laurie.”

He winces a little. “Look, you don’t have to say anything. You said plenty last night.”

“You needed to hear it,” I retort.

“I know.” He lets out his breath. “I’ve been thinking, all night, about what you said. You were right, you were right about all of it. I am wasting my life, I’m ruining everything because of one stupid mistake that unravelled it all. And–and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you, in all the ways that I have. You don’t deserve a friend like me; you never did.”

He stands to go, and for a heartbeat, I think about letting him. But then,

“Laurie!”

“Laurie!”

I see him, walking along the street as I pass on the other side. I immediately break away from Jo, who I was escorting to town. “I'll see you later, Jo.”

She smiles knowingly and shoos me off. “Bye, y/n/n.”

“Laurie!” I call again, running to catch up with him.

At the sound of my voice, he half-turns, double-takes, and then his face breaks into a wide grin, the way he always saves just for me. “Y/n!”

I run right until I’m in his arms. “I missed you,” I sigh into his hair. “When did you get back?”

I feel him smiling. “Only just this morning. I was going to surprise you, but you beat me to it, tesoro mio.”

“Laurie, you know I don’t speak Italian,” I laugh, pulling away slightly to look at him. “I’m not the one who just went to Italy for a year. And don’t use it without telling me the meanings; it’s mean! I never know what you’re saying.”

Laurie has a faint smirk on his face. “Sorry, tesoro mio.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me,” he replies easily, and oh, how badly I want to agree with him out loud. Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, I’m head over heels in love with you.

So I do say it. “Yes,” I say, “I do.”

Laurie blinks at me. “What?”

My mouth opens a little, but for a second, nothing comes out. “I do love you,” I say slowly.

Laurie stares at me. “Why?”

“Everything, Laurie,” I sigh. “You’re kind, and beautiful, and you understand me better than even I can. You’re always there to cheer me up when I need that, and when I’m sad, you’re all too happy to give me your shoulder to cry on. You always know exactly what I’m thinking, and feeling, and you always know the right thing to say. You don’t mind my silly ramblings, or fantasies, and you don't care what anyone thinks of you. You’re always the person I want to be around; Laurie, you make me so happy. I love you, Laurie Laurence, and I think I always have.”

There’s silence for a minute, just a heartbeat too long to feel comfortable. All I can hear are the birds in the trees above us, but their songs sound alarming.

Laurie looks away, then at the sky, and finally back at me. His tongue swipes his lower lip in a way that I know is nervous.

“Y/n,” he says, and his tone instantly crushes me. “I—that’s extremely sweet and beautiful and I love you too, but…”

My heart sinks. “But you love Jo.” A part of me had always known, but I’d tried to convince myself otherwise. Clearly, my instinct had been correct.

“I can’t help it!” Laurie tries to justify himself, but he has no reason to. He can’t help who he’s fallen in love with, just as I cannot help falling in love with him. “I love you, y/n, I truly do. You’re my best friend… but the love I feel for Jo, it’s different. And you’re not her. You will never, and can never be her.”

I feel like someone has ripped my heart from my chest, stepped on it, thrown it into a frozen lake, and shoved it back inside of me. All I can manage is a nod.

“You should probably tell her then,” I whisper, and I turn to go. I can’t bear looking at him any longer.

That was the last time I’d seen Laurie for a very long time. I’d left for Europe with Amy, leaving Laurie and Jo to have a life together, if that’s what they wanted. Turns out Jo never saw him in that way, and he was rejected by her later that very same day.

I was still amazing friends with all the March girls, and I still cradled my childhood memories close to my heart.

But my heart has never healed. Every time Laurie Laurence was on my mind, it stung like only yesterday. Any day that a memory of those long walks, the silly fights, the hugs and dances, the inside jokes and dumb decisions came to me, I’d break down and cry.

“Laurie!”

He stops at the sound of my voice, turns, and his green eyes meet mine. He stares, waiting for me to speak.

“Don’t leave,” I say softly. “Please. Don’t make the mistake I did.”

He turns to fully face me now. “What mistake?”

I let out a breath. “Running. When someone needed me most.”

His eyes clear in understanding. I missed this about him, the way he’d always know exactly what I meant by everything. I never had to explain anything, because Laurie knew my heart. He always understood what I was trying to say, no matter what.

“Y/n—“

I hold my hand to stop his words. “Don’t say anything,” I tell

him. “You don’t have to. You have never, and will never, be under any obligation to return the feelings I have for you. That’s not your fault, and it wasn’t back then, and I’m sorry that I dropped you out of my life after that day. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when Jo turned you down, I’m sorry I never replied or even read your letters. I—“

“You never read my letters?” Laurie’s voice sounds broken.

I stop. “No. I—I didn’t.”

Laurie looks down, his forehead scrunching together. “No wonder…” he mutters. “You… you had no idea.”

Now it’s my turn to frown. “No idea about what?”

He glances up, his eyes searching mine, for what I don’t know. “I wrote to you, y/n. Dozens of times. I poured my heart out into those letters. I told you how much I missed you, how badly I was hurting over what I’d said to you that day. I—I told you how Jo helped me to realise that it really was you all along. I’ve been in love with you since I first met you, y/n, and I never stopped. I just didn't realise it. But when you never wrote back, I assumed that was your answer.”

“Oh, Laurie,” I whisper, tears in my voice. “I’m so sorry.” A million thoughts are racing through my mind, but one rises above the others.

“Is it still true?”

He hesitates. “That I love you?”

I nod once. “Yeah.”

“It will always be true.”

And for the first time in a long while, I feel at home again.

[necstasy]

thoughts on laurie. specifically dirty!!

like he’s the perfect golden boy to your family and treats you so well but the moment you’re behind closed doors his cock is down your throat and his hand is gripping your hair

mention of barf; very slight dark!laurie (squint and you still won’t find it); corruption kink; implied face fucking & LAURIE LAURENCE MDNI 18+

it’s something he gets off to.

the way that just hours before, he’d been having an early dinner with your parents, the perfect picture of innocence. sitting across from you, smiling at your parents on either side of the table, reaching across to take your hand in his every so often to make your mother coo and your father proud.

to them, laurie (theodore as they preferred to call him) was the perfect husband. and he was, just in ways they didn’t know.

you know you got lucky with laurie. there was no way any other man could satisfy your needs like this. no other man that could satisfy both your parents and you.

because that’s what laurie did, satisfy you. even whenever he was aiming towards his own satisfaction.

your mouth wrapped around his cock as you take him inch by inch, introducing the length once more as he held your hair back. he encouraged you from above, reminding you that you’ve done it before, and you can do it again.

“just takes a little bit to get used to, yeah?” he asked you, completely knowing that you wouldn’t be able to respond. he apparently finds it amusing when you try to nod, his lips quirking up and his eyes shining in the light from behind you.

always, he lets you take your time to adjust. and once you’re situated enough, he does the work for you, slow thrusts into your mouth that have his eyes rolling back. once, out of curiosity, you asked him which he preferred, your mouth or between your legs. and he had taken a while to mull it over before deciding on your cunt. but with the way he reacts when he gets to use your mouth, you think he should reconsider.

he is almost unabashed. lacking the cordiality and composure he presented in front of your parents. instead, before you is a laurie stripped of his upbringing. a laurie that you assume had only previously existed during his time in paris, as according to the stories from excitable mouths.

while he’s an obscene version of himself, you’re much worse. you’re salacious. you’re pornographic. drool leaking out of your mouth, your eyes a healthy mix of lazy and watchful as you take in as much of your husband as you can. your hair is an absolute mess, that’s the part laurie takes most pride in. because that is his own doing. his hands insistent in their mission to take your hair out of the frilly updo and let it relax, just as he preferred.

he’s making noises, groans and praising chants. but you’re making noises too. sighs, breaths, hums. every so often you make a noise that’s like a warning, as if you’re afraid that laurie nudging at the back of your throat will trigger your gag reflex one too many times and create a mess.

yet, it’s a mess that doesn’t sound too unappealing for him. he thinks he would like to see you like that. to see you completely wrecked and not in control of yourself. to see you stripped of your upbringing, and presented as a woman he has yet to fully unlock, but he knows exists.

[loverangels]

I saw laurie Lawrence and i got so excited (i see no fics of him even though he’s like the perfect man even if he sucks sometimes.) i’m excited to see your writings <3

the way things go

pairings- laurie laurence x fem!reader

summary- after over hearing laurie propose to your sister Jo, heartbroken you decide to leave to paris

warnings- angst, not proofread nothing else

'would you do me the greatest honour of making me your husband.'

Laurie's words seemed to replay and echo in the dull hollow walls of your mind. Your heart ached as tears dripped down your face . You were going to tell Laurie you loved him. You thought he loved you.

It was obvious now that you were wrong.

With a hand clamped over your mouth, you muffled the sob threatening to break out from your throat.

What made it worse was that he hadn't proposed to anyone else.

He proposed to Jo.

Anger simmed through you, overtaking the flow of your pain. You had asked Jo if something between her and Laurie had been going on and everytime she replied with 'don't be silly! Laurie's like my brother!' or 'laurie!? What possibly could make you think that!?' and brushed it off with furrowed brows and a disgusted frown.

But that didn't match up with what you had just witnessed.

Through the slightly ajar door, you walked down the hallway of lauries and his grandfather's house, hoping to speak to him only to be met with the sight of Laurie on one knee facing Jo, with a small velvet box holding one of the most gorgeous ring you have ever seen.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

You held back your sob and flew down the stairs not caring if either of Jo or Laurie heard you.

You ran. Ran till you were in your bedroom, without a second thought, stuffing the rest of your precious belongings into your suitcase, filling it to the brim.

You looked around at your room savouring every inch before hauling your suitcase and down the stairs.

'you're already leaving so early?'

Marmees soft gentle voice called out from behind you, and you sighed turning around to face.

'should I get laurie to help you?'

A weak smile formed on your face, but you knew it was no use. Marmee could see right through anyone.

'no it's alright..I wouldn't want to bother him' your words came out more bitter than you intended to.

Soon without telling Meg, Jo, Beth, or Amy, you walked out of the door.

And to Paris.

'would you do me the greatest honour of make me your husband.'

Laurie knelt on knee holding the velvet box to Jo.

Jo squealed and grabbed Laurie up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

'its perfect! It's time, we need to go tell the others!'

'wait I need to look presentable' Laurie joked before dusting his clothes off and fixing the rough state of his hair.

The pair soon went to Lauries grandfather and told him the news.

He was ecstatic.

They spent an hour with lauries grandfather, before trampling through the thick mount of snow to tell marmee and the girls.

'is she here?', Laurie asked marmee.

Marmee sadly smiled, 'shes already left to the train station'

Laurie felt his heart drop to his stomach.

'what?'

'shes already left to Paris, if you're lucky the train might not have departed yet due to the snow storm.'

You sat on one of the benches at the train station, the bell jar in your hand, as you read impatiently waiting for your train to arrive.

Soon the call of your train was made.

You grabbed your suitcase and bag, holding the book with our arm.

As you began to struggle as you attempted to haul your suitcase and bag on the train, you felt arms grab your suitcase and a familiar voice.

'wait!'

You turned around to see Laurie, his hair sticking in all directions, and his face flushed from the snow.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the train.

'what were you thinking? You were just going to leave? Without telling the girls? Without telling me?' his voice was strained and raspy as if he had been screaming.

'laurie I don't have time for this- the train its leaving!' you harshly ripped yourself from Laurie's grip, attempting to chase the train down as it slowly departed, only to be in his hold again.

He held you against his chest.

'youre not leaving. You cant-why?'

You struggled to find your words.

You looked at him million answers as to why. Why? 'why? Really Laurie why? You know exactly why!' you held a finger to him accusingly as you jabbed him in the chest 'you- what happened to us? We were so close. I love you Laurie. That's 'why?'.' Laurie's jaw dropped as you continued. 'i love you and I thought...' your voice trailed off as you swallowed the lump in your throat frustrated. 'i thought you loved me to. And I went. I went to tell you but you already proposed, I was too late. You love her.' your voice dropped with jealousy and anguish.

'what?' Laurie asked his brows furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek 'who are you taking about? I love you. Only you.'

You were confused. But didn't he propose to Jo? 'laurie I saw you... I saw..but you proposed to jo.'

Lauries faced changed. His eyes widened as his mouth slowly formed into a grin before he started laughing.

'laurie it's not funny!' you exclaim, yet also finding yourself trying to hide your smile, pushing him away playfully.

Laurie grabbed your hands, enlacing his fingers with yours.

'god, i was practicing to propose.' he chuckled ' I was practicing to propose. To you.'

'oh.' was all that left your mouth but it was nothing compared to the whirlwind of emotions in your stomach.

'so what do you say? Will you be my wife?' he asked grinning as his hands revealed a small velvet box holding the same gorgeous diamond ring.

'yes!' you beamed at him, your cheeks flushed as he slid the ring on your finger.

As laurie quickly embraced you, his chin on your head as you wrapped your arms around your torso, Laurie chuckled,

'i can't believe that after all that practicing this is the propsosal.'

'well I guess that's just the way things go.'

a/n I hate this so much but idk if it's just me 😭 I hope it's okay for you guys!

[feyofmay]

The Oak Door

Laurie x March!Reader (aka "Ducky") Summary: At a gathering in london, hosted by Mister Laurence, Laurie gets drunk & the reader is forced to take care of him. While assisting him, Laurie attempts to propose, & the reader is everything but happy word count: 3.8k Warnings: ANGST, literally that's it just angst, also a lot of self doubt from reader

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3. If you want to know what happens next, you'll find out there ;P

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

To say one’s heart & mind works separately is a lie because the heart is an organ that does not think, nor does it hold any greater understanding of what it is. It has no consciousness, yet is unrightfully given the capability to think & know. Nobody truly thinks with their heart or their throat or their liver or their pancreas. When someone says “thinking with their heart” or “thinking with their mind”, they mean thinking with their intuition or their rationality, or thinking with logic or emotion. They create a great divide in thought that, in all honesty, has & will never exist. A black & white. A right & wrong. A sky & sea. Existing between all of these concepts is a great trench, a lack of understanding, that was dug by the hands of men. 

In thinking with her heart, the middle March finds it best to avoid Laurie, &, in thinking with her head, she agrees with her heart. All of this to say, for the past couple of days, she’s both missed & feared the sight of his face. It’s easy to grow distant from someone when there’s no possible way to close said distance, but, when you’re staying in the same residence per the request of his grandfather, it’s much harder to remain distant, both in a literal & metaphysical sense.

Within the lounge, where she resides now, Miss March distances herself from the greater commotion of the gathering, in the dining hall, without being fully disconnected, like a hand is to the torso. The walls are dressed in a tender maroon wallpaper with an eloquent & detailed moulding of marble & gold, replicating greek columns, which act as a trim that runs across the ceilings. She shares the chaise lounge with other guests as they squeeze next to each other, and their skirts overlap like incoming tides crossing over one another. She’s unsure if she's become overwhelmed by all the stimulus or simply unable to sense anything. The air doesn’t carry any distinct scent. Oddly, the space around her smells of the sound of bustling people & drinks swishing in crystalline glasses. Around her is noise & people, & all of her senses confirm that truth in a monotone wave.  Nursing an empty glass, which she had thrown the contents of into a houseplant & plans to hold for the rest of the evening, she sits within conversation between several men & women, an intellectual hive of people that act more like displays for their attire then beings with bones & blood. For them, knowledge is a sport. It’s a trinket to place on your coffee table to try & impress your inlaws. It’s an accessory to tout & best acknowledge in thoughtful hums & inquisitive gasps. 

A man in a matching set of birdseye patterned, taupe slacks & waist drones on about the recent unification of Germany. While Miss March does find the subject, itself, interesting, she can’t seem to hold intrigue in the conversation. Something about the smoke & the long days warping together in England has led her to misplace the inquisitiveness of the young girl who dreamed of moving to Europe & leaving behind the dreariness of subordinate domesticity. While, with age, she’s gained the emotional intellect necessary to process her emotions beyond simply scraping the shallow tide with her toes, she’s also gained the awareness that, oftentimes, the act of digesting her emotions is tiring. She’s learned that the energy used toward emotions is better spent producing something tangible & of worth. 

Luckily for her, Laurie’s grandfather is a man in the know, which means he knew several associates with daughters of varying ages with varying tastes in clothes who were more than happy to lend a dress to a young lady. Over her crinoline skirt & bodice, a dress in a sweet champagne shade is draped across her. The lacy trim, not wanting to melt into the dress, itself, is a muted purple, almost a grey, that wraps around her puff sleeves & the edges of the champagne tier, with a silk white skirt with a lavender sheen peeks out from underneath. Nothing about the dress is loud. She feels much more at home in the fabric, especially after walking around in the daunting mauve dress like a living, breathing cake topper, a piece of decor for her employer to flaunt. For the first time since leaving New England & Meg & Hannah’s trusted fingers, she’d had her hair done by someone other than her family’s servant. The trusted maid of Mister Laurence had offered & promised to not pull too hard on the March’s hair. As the maid braided & pinned her hair, the middle March almost cried. However, it wasn’t due to any pain inflicted on her scalp, as the maid’s touch was tentative & gentle. It was the simple act of being touched & cared for, a touch Miss March had been subconsciously craving for since leaving her home. A touch she had forgotten until reuniting with Laurie in the crowded foyer. 

Touching her shoulder, a soft hand brushes her & whispers a polite ask for her attention. She flutters her eyelashes, shaking off the weight of the dust that had collected on them, &, with the help of the welcomed touch, swims out of the mental fog she had sunk herself into. Her eyes flitter up & meet with the warm sight of Mister Laurence gazing back at her. Whether the strong scent of candle wax, lingering dust on velvet carpets, & forest breeze eminates from him or the memories of his manor in New England that she spent odd mornings & afternoons in, she’s unsure of. However, it’s another reminder of the young girl she tried to comfort & wish goodbye to before leaving for Lancashire.

“Pardon my forwardness, but, Miss March, I must ask you to join me for a brief moment. I do hate to take away from such wonderful company,” Mister Laurence requests, playing the role of the man wise beyond his years more gracefully than anyone Miss March has ever seen. With a curt nod, not even bothering to bid adieu to the people in the room, she lets curiosity lead her as she rises to her feet & wraps her arms around Mister Laurence’s. Ushering her out of the room at the exact speed that is swift without being suspicious, Mister Laurence guides the young lady to a hallway with no prying eyes or wandering ears. His gaze does not hold the anger of a great man who is weighed down by the hubris of those around him, but in his eyes is something deeply paternal & saddened. Around him, an umber waistcoat & slacks with a herringbone pattern remind her more of a bear then a man of business & wealth. However, her judgement may be heavily clouded from growing up under his watchful eye. While his hair used to be a soft salt & pepper, it has faded to a faint white & grey like the shadow of a tree painted on fresh snow during a cloudy evening. For most, with age comes wrinkles that hide within them their growing envy for the youth that’s being wasted on careless & stupid adolescents. Mister Laurence’s wrinkles are like the rings of a tree, lines that prove that he has lived & seen. They’re a promise that, if one is to ask, he will tell the story preserved in every smile line & crow’s foot. Bending down so his lips hover around her ear, she’s immediately washed in the same sincerity that soaks his demeanour.

“Y/N,” he calls her by her first name, a telltale sign of loyalty & unease from the man, “I do hate to put this upon your shoulders, but my grandson is acting aloof-”.

“In what sense?” she interrupts in the classic March fashion, &, used to this speech pattern, he continues speaking over her. 

“And, while I don’t wish to make you pay for his poor decisions, I have an important associate that I do need to impress,” he explains to her as his hand returns to her shoulder, “And you and I are both well aware that no servant is paid well enough to have to deal with my grandson’s… ”

“Stubbornness?”

“...Tenacity.”

Both finish his sentence at the same time & share a gaze that communicates that neither are completely wrong with their wording. Nodding his head to agree with her, he looks away at the hall ahead. No paternal figure wants to admit their children’s faults. To say a truth is to make it known, but to admit a truth makes it tangible. She can feel the glass ball that rolls up & down his throat, ever so often bobbing at the opening to his stomach. Hiding beneath his heavy wool morning coat, his shoulders tense while trying to protect the rest of his body.

“A servant caught him with several other young women & clearly inebriated,” he reveals to her, & the edges of his lips quiver & twitch as they are tugged by invisible strings into a frown. His words dig a hole into her chest. All that remains is her skin, which caves in & sags where her sternum once was. It leaves a tingling sensation where her muscles & bones used to rest. She feels that Mister Laurence is speaking of a different grandson, which she has never met. What happened to the young boy who would treat her childish fears with utmost sincerity? What happened to the boy who made pinky promises seem like the most honourable pacts a man could make? What monster, what man had stolen the skin from him & now wears it as a costume? 

“I’ll confess. I’m unsure of where I went wrong with him,” Mister Laurence slips out between hushed lips, telling his secret to the wind & Miss March. Pausing to swallow his words, she furrows her brows & purses her lips. Swimming in her mind, she can’t think of any words that can comfort him in this moment of vulnerability. So, rather than speaking, she wraps her arms around the older man & hugs him tightly. Surprise washes him over as she squeezes his ribcage tightly, &, for a moment, he freezes as his eyes dart around to try & catch leering gazes peaking around the corner. But they are hidden in the inky shadows of the hallway. With a long exhale, Mister Laurence allows his tension to escape, & he swallows her in his embrace.. 

“You worry about business, and I’ll worry about Laurie,” she comforts him while pulling away, pausing to fix his bowtie, “He’s very lucky to have a grandfather that’s as kind and loving as you.” Mister Laurence smiles at her reminder as the rosy glow on his cheeks alights the hallway for a moment. Each breath they take in the space that they share feels like it fills each corner of their lungs. Nodding to her, a silent show of gratitude, he leads her to an oak door which lays slightly ajar. Holding the nob, he turns back to her before speaking.

“Thank you for your assistance. He’s in here,” Mister Laurence informs her, & he slowly swings the door open. Immediately, the souring scent of wine hits her face, &, as an instinct, her nose scrunches up & a grimace stains her lips. Splayed out on a couch, dishevelled & basking in his own ruin, she sees more of a strange, unfamiliar man than the boy that she knew. She sees a man that will grow to be discontent with his wife, yet who stays for the kids. A man who never really loved his children but is patiently waiting for the fulfilment that comes from acting in the role that society has told him to. A man who will never be fulfilled. A man that has learned that he must settle for what he has, quietly & miserably. A miniscule part of Miss March relishes at the idea that he’d have to learn how cruel the impartial hand of life can be, but the rest of her is well aware that Laurie will never know “enough”. He’d love his wife, even if she loved another man. He’d work to provide for his kids, &, if the wife was never around, he’d raise them all on his own. He’d move mountains to try to find the better side of “enough”. Laurie will love & love because that is Laurie’s nature. He loves wine & women. He loves trekking through forests & acting a fool, even in public spaces. He loves to engage in conversation while in the company of the March sisters, where no sentence is ever finished & nothing is ever truly said but the quiet “I love you” that rattles around in the pauses between words for a quick draw of breath. Laurie loves Jo. Laurie will continue to love, & love will truly be the cause of his death. Yet, Laurie will find a way to love the silent & cold hand of what lies beyond in a way that no person has ever done before. Miss March cannot even entertain the idea of Laurie living a life that is just “enough” because, to her, his company is more than enough. It is good. It is plenty.

That same man has tossed away his vermillion silk tie & waistcoat, leaving him in a starch white shirt that’s a third of the way unbuttoned & hastily tucked into raven black slacks. Closing the door behind her, the click of the door knob alerts him to her presence. However, his verdant eyes don’t move to meet her as he stares through strands of his messy chocolate hair & up at the silver ring that he often displays on his pointer finger. 

“Are you here to scold me, oh my dear mother?” He asks to the wind, acknowledging her existence. Miss March inhales deeply as the beating of her heart starts to drown out the sound of her breath. Clasping her hands together, she tentatively begins to make her way over to the cobalt ottoman that rests near the matching couch. The room is a demure periwinkle with small etchings of leaves adding a splash of muted emerald to the room.

“No, Laurie. Your grandfather asked me to keep you company,” she tries to ease his nerves as she inches closer.

“No, he told you to keep me away from the guests as I am his greatest failure,” Laurie shoots up at her words, sitting up far too fast for his drunken mind to handle. A warbling groan of pain slips out of his mouth as he rakes his fingers through his hair & clutches his throbbing head. At the sight of his agony, Miss March rushes to him &, readjusting his legs, sits on the edge of the couch cushion, right in front of him. With a tender touch, she gently wraps her fingers around his wrists & rubs small circles with her thumb.

“Oh, shush, you’re as much of a failure as I am a dancer,” She teases him with a sympathetic smile. At her words, a small & raspy chuckle escapes his lips &, tilting his head, his celadon eyes, in which the fields of Elysium hide, gaze up at her. Hiding beneath a smoke of anger, she’s able to see the young boy that she grew up with. The young boy that she once fell in love with. He’s scared & small & all the things a child is never allowed to be. 

In this moment, as much as she despises it, she knows she must admit her faults to him & ask for forgiveness. She was cruel & unjust for bringing up Jo with the intent of spitting in his face. She hurt him with the intention of leaving a mark, & she succeeded in doing so. If he doesn’t ever forgive her, she’ll grow to understand. It won’t be an easy process, but loving Laurie has never been anything close to easy. Taking a deep breath, she shoves the racing thoughts out of her vision & looks him in the eyes.

“I apologise for what I said in the alley, concerning your feelings for Jo. I shouldn’t’ve ever used them to hurt you,” she apologises quickly, &, after speaking, immediately purses her lips together & stares at him. She waits for him to scream. To yell at her to get out. To say he hates her & never wants to see her again. To tell her he always hated her. That he only tolerated her for Jo. To say she’s stupid. She’s vile. She’s not worth Jo or Meg or Beth or Amy’s time. She waits for him to tell her the truth she’s been too scared to say to herself aloud. She waits & waits until, finally, his lips part, & he draws a quick breath.

“It’s alright. I was being mean too, and I, truly, do owe you many apologies, as well, ” he replies with a thin smile, replaying the events in his head. Ducky’s stomach squeezes as relief floods her system, & she sharply inhales while attempting to keep some kind of composure. A tight smile graces her features, slipping past her facade of propriety & decorum. 

“I’ve been spending this past year, & some odd months, wallowing in my own melancholy, but,” Laurie pauses for a moment, slouching forward so his eyes are level with Ducky’s, “but I cannot waste away my life being miserable. If money is truly of the highest concern, then marry me.” His words grab her by the neck, shove their long, spindly fingers down her throat, wrench the breath from her lungs, & pry the air out of her. Her mouth falls agape as she struggles to comb through & fully understand what he’s said.

“Laurie, I refuse-”

“You won’t have to work, nor do you have to love me, & your family will be provided for: Beth, Amy, Marmee, everyone,” he prattles on, afraid of the nearing rejection that comes when he stops to breathe. Ducky can’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat & what, to her, sounds like the faint whisper of Laurie’s voice. She can’t even hear herself think.

“You’ll be happy, I promise. Everyday I will spend in honest devotion to your happiness,” he’s breathless as he finishes his speech, &, feeling the walls begin to collapse in on her, Ducky jumps to her feet. Rushing back & forth, in front of her very eyes, are countless memories of Jo & Laurie, of the way it’s always been. Jo loves her work. Laurie loves Jo. Ducky was left to love the footprints Laurie had left while chasing after Jo. 

“Laurie, I, as a woman, must either enter a marriage for security or for love,” she whispers out as her arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her sides tightly, “while you can marry for any reason under the sun, and I will not be an accomplice in allowing you to waste that privilege.” The room grows smaller, the air between them thinner. It’s hard to breathe & her vision becomes a swirl of blues & greens with a spotty pillar of white & black wiggling around in the centre. Laurie stops, & Ducky stops. Neither move. Neither speak. Neither breathe. The walls stop moving, & everything around them fades into their shadows. They are a boy & a girl. A lady & a man, all grown up & yet the exact same as they were the day that they met. While his previous proclamations were loud & steady, the words he speaks next are a promise meant only for his lips & the spirits that hide in peoples’ breaths. 

“But I can give you both, love and security, if you’d allow me. I’ll inherit my grandfather’s wealth, and we could be happy, all of us.”

Clear on his face is the same sincerity that he’s gifted to her in every moment of embarrassment & shame. His eyes stay glued to hers. After waiting for years for him to say these words to her, she can’t help but feel his admittance is fake. That maybe his words are meant for someone smarter, braver, older, & better then she is. His words are meant for Jo.

“No, no, you don’t get to, this isn’t right,” she bites back, walking backwards & grasping for the door knob yet only finding the air between her fingers, “Stop it, Laurie, please.”. He follows her, &, in his drunken state, collides with the furniture, sending his body awry. 

“Yes, yes I can, and we both know it to be true,” he tries to correct her as he raises his hands to grip her forearms. Her shoulders immediately tense at his touch. His fingers crinkle the poofy champagne fabric that delicately floats around her skin.

“You’re acting a fool, Laurie-”

“I can, I swear on my life Y/N, I am able and I am willing and, and content to do so.”

 “-I won’t allow it, I simply cannot,” she continues to ramble on, & her finger tips brush against the cool metal of the doorknob. Laurie opens his mouth to rebuke her statement, but, before he can, her palm flies up & presses against his lips. Covering his mouth with her hand, she shakes her head as her eyes gleam with tears.

“Please, stop. It hurts, Laurie. Please, Laurie, you’re hurting me,” she pleads to him as her fingers curl around the door knob, “I cannot do it. You broke my heart once already. Is that not enough for you?” 

To watch the boy she admires fall in love with her sister, who she’s loved since the dawn of time, was a constant, real ache that left her sobbing into Beth’s chest as she begged Meg to help her & relieve her of the pain, which was an impossible task. After the middle March had left for Europe & caught word of Jo’s rejection in a letter from Beth, she had a heavy heart knowing that the two people who were connected at the hip for all of her adolescence had now grown cold & distant. It was as if she’d heard that the moon no longer followed the sun, leaving the night cold & bleak. All she has done her entire life is labour & hurt for those she loves without question or complaint. However, she cannot look Laurie in the eyes as he slurs out ideas that would’ve sent her younger self spinning & giggling with a maddening joy. She cannot withstand that pain for him. She doesn’t feel happy or sad. Nor is she angry or scared. All that she can feel is the heavy pounding of her heart & a dull ache emanating through her. The pain swallows her mind, &, while her body still remains, Ducky has clearly fled far from the room. She’s racing down the streets in her dress, seeing how far her legs will take her. 

She yanks the door open just before he can reply & heaves her body through, slamming the door shut after her. Leaning her weight against the slab of carved & varnished oak, a few tears trickle down her cheek as she chokes back a sob, not wanting to alert any guests nearby. In her mind, she’s already ran all the way back to New England. There, back in her home, she lies, hiding her tears in Beth’s dress, as her sisters practically cocoon her, protecting her & the fire from the harsh reality of the world that waits outside their loving embrace & on the other side of the oak door. 

i told you it's literally & only just angst... sorry. please like & repost :)

[cauliflowertree]

laurie laurence—all i want to say is i love you.

laurie laurence x fem!march!reader

summary: romance novel confessions.

word count: 1.1k

fanfic no. 043.

laurie laurence always had a pleasant time with the march sisters—he considered them family, if he could so bold as to say so. but as he grew older, the other sisters began to notice a slight show of favouritism for the third sister, y/n. soft but lively in temperament, she seemed his perfect match. and they didn’t mind so much, for laurie was still very attentive to them, and they observed they would make a very fine couple should they choose to be.

he hadn’t thought he was quite so obvious with his silent affections, but he could not deny his countenance greatly altered when with her, though often he did not realise unless it was teasingly pointed out by someone else who had observed this alteration. let them tease, he thought, it mattered not to him.

he had quietly pined after the favourited sister for many months now, elongated, he felt, by the winter season which seemed to last many weeks longer than usual, which often forced him back home in the early evenings where his lack of company was greatly felt by y/n and the other march sisters.

but when summer finally absorbed spring’s showers, he was greeted with the adoring sight of y/n reading novels in her garden once more. from his window he could see her quite clearly, often getting distracted from his studies which could infuriate poor mr. brooke. laurie was never the most attentive nor obedient student, which was only exacerbated by this consuming infatuation he could not shake, nor did he want to.

as much as his love for y/n tormented him, it was the reason he found himself so eager to greet the day in the early mornings, the cause many of his smiles and happy moments. but as much as this was true, she was also the cause of many sleepless nights, reprimands from his tutor and grandfather for not paying attention and confusion in his life.

despite this uncertainly imposed upon him, as soon as his classes had ended for the day, he headed to the march household—he could wait no longer to tell y/n the truth about how he felt; the uncertainty must come to an end.

meanwhile, oblivious to the plan laurie was hatching, you basked in the soft sunlight while reading a romance novel you’d bought from town with all the money you’d saved up recently. it was a delightful read, though you were nearing the end already, having only started reading it a day or so ago.

“you pierce my soul. i am half agony, half hope,” you read aloud, feeling your heart pound in your chest, wondering what those words would sound like coming from laurie’s lips.

theodore laurence had a hold of your heart from the day you’d met, and thus far, he had not relinquished his grip for a moment. you were a little too shy to admit your fondness for the boy, but would accept in a heartbeat if he were to confess he felt the same way first. it was a difficult predicament, for the dread came in knowing there was a chance you would never know if you did not ask.

“‘would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?’ — ‘would i!’ was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough,’” you continued to read, feeling the butterflies in your stomach fluttering as you the confession upon the pages unravelled.

“‘good god!’ he cried. ‘you would!’”

so enraptured in your novel, you hadn’t noticed laurie creeping up on you from your garden gate, smiling gently as he watched and listened to you read another novel from your extensive collection.

“what are you reading this time?” asked laurie when he was close enough.

“oh! laurie, you startled me,” you laughed, clutching your chest.

“i apologise, fair maiden,” he bowed in jest. “is it shakespeare’s sonnets again?” he asked, nodding to the book in your hand.

“not this time, the author is a woman from england,” you replied, elated with the knowledge it was a woman’s words you were devouring page by page.

“is it a novel?”

“yes, a romance novel,” you sighed happily. “it is fast becoming one of my favourites. oh, laurie, it’s utterly splendid!”

laurie sat beside you in the grass, fiddling with the green blades beside his feet. he listened to you talk fondly of this new novel you had fallen in love with, talking endlessly of some anne elliot and a captain wentworth.

“what is it?” you asked suddenly, feeling very self conscious of the intense stare from laurie’s eyes and his boundless silence.

“i’m in love with you,” he whispered without hesitation through a smile, almost in disbelief that the words had left his lips so boldly.

“what?” you scoffed, for such a declaration was not easily comprehended in the circumstances in which he had revealed it to you.

“all the while i have known you, i have been in love with you,” replied laurie, feeding off the courage he had unwittingly found. “i do not care that you talk too much, nor that you stay up too late reading by the dwindling candle light. i love that your hair is unkempt and that as soon as someone pays you a compliment you become bashful. i could not think of someone better to love. truly, i could love no one else but you.”

it was as if you were in a romance novel of your own, and the protagonist’s love interest was finally admitting his feelings in the last chapter of the book, letting its readers breathe a sigh of relief alongside their protagonist who had been waiting just as long to hear the words finally spoken.

“have i upset you?” asked laurie when you did not respond.

“no!” you cried. “you have only surprised me,” you laughed. “do you truly mean it, laurie!?”

“of course i mean it, dear y/n,” came his gentle response, which elicited a bright grin stretching across your lips as you tossed your novel to the ground, throwing yourself against laurie.

“i have been in love with you all this time too,” you revealed, hovering over his lips and revelling in the sensation of his arms snaking around your waist and over your back.

laurie could not speak, only match your joyous smile as he let the words you had spoken sink into his heart, down to the very bottom where he endeavoured to hold them forever.

he wetted his lips, lifting his chin up cautiously, to which you matched his actions before pressing your lips to his delicately—a chaste first kiss that neither of you wished would end. but you had all the time in the world for the number to grow and grow beyond count.

requested by anonymous.

🏷 @sw34terw34ther @imabee-oralizard @mad-elia @velvetcloxds @natashxromanovf @ell0ra-br3kk3r @uwiuwi @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @krishavania @innerloverpainter @locke-writes

[stray-kaz]

Sugar & Spice : a Theodore Laurence x reader FF : one

The door to Jo’s attic room rattled with a quiet but insistent knock just as you were finishing tying the violet ribbon at the end of your plait.

“Are you almost ready, honey? Laurie is waiting to escort you girls to the dance.”

You turned with a swish of lavender skirts to open the door, Marmie waiting on the other side. You smiled at the woman who had taken you in when your father was stolen by war, your mother long gone, struck by illness. She had accepted you as her fifth daughter.

“Yes, Marmie, I am ready. Has Laurie been waiting long?”

The young man in question appeared at the foot of the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back. He arched one dark eyebrow and one corner of his mouth twitched.

“Never too long for you, my love” he said smoothly, and winked.

You rolled your eyes, but felt your face heat in spite of yourself. Marmie touched your hand and leaned forward to murmur into your ear.

“He is a clever, kind boy, and I like him well enough, but he has a mischievous streak a mile wide. Be careful.”

You nodded and squeezed her hand.

“I will be.”

You lifted your skirts an inch off the floor to make your way down the stairs to where Laurie stood at attention. He reached out for you hand, gripping it delicately at the second knuckles, his fingertips brushing your glove. He raised it to his lips and kissed the white fabric. You stuck your tongue out at him, your back to Marmie at the top of the staircase.

“I saw that” Jo announced, eyeing you with a wicked grin. “How unladylike of you, sister.”

You dropped into a mock curtsey.

“You’re one to talk, Josephine” you retorted, grinning at her. “Ready?”

“Never. Come on then.”

Even though Laurie knew it was against propriety, he couldn’t help sliding his hand against the curve of your waist as he moved past to open the door to the carriage, your shoulder brushing his arm. You didn’t dare meet his eye in that instant, his closeness to you sending heat crackling over your arms, bare due to the late summer night air.

He handed you up first, your hand lingering in his for too long, your gaze locked on his. Eyes the colour of a wild sea stared back at you. After what seemed entirely too long and impossibly too short, Jo coughed and broke the spell.

“Help me up, would you, Teddy?”

Laurie nodded quickly and kept her steady as she stepped up into the carriage. He leapt up after them and swung the door closed. Marmie backlit by the blazing golden lights in her home was the last thing he saw before the carriage jolted away down the lane, swaying gently with the horses.

Jo left you alone the minute you arrived, sending you a knowing glance as she wended her path through the densely packed room, no doubt heading for the farthest away quiet room to sequester in until the noise was over.

It was both the best and the worst thing she could have done for you. No other young men came near to offer you a dance, as Theodore Laurence was hovering so near you. His arms were folded across his chest, but his eyes were fixed on the side of your face and you were striving to ignore him, your heart beating in your ears.

At last, you glanced sidelong at him, your mouth skewed into a half scowl.

“You know, Mister Laurence, that you are scaring off any potential suitors from asking for a dance. You are turning me into the worst kind of wallflower: an unwilling one.”

Laurie took a step closer and lowered his head just enough for his mouth to rest right by your ear. He watched as you shivered and your eyes fluttered closed for a split second before widening, dark pupils expanding beyond your control.

“Do you mind, really?” he said softly. “Do you want their attention? Or simply mine? You know that ribbon in your hair is my favourite colour. Hmm?”

You self consciously started to play with the end of your plait, tracing the soft lines of the ribbon with your fingertips. Before you could open your mouth to deny this knowledge, Laurie shook his head.

“You know it, just as I know sunflowers are your favourite. You cannot keep passing us off as just friends, and you know it. We are not just friends, my love.”

He spoke with conviction, but his eyes were still full of uncertainty as he looked at you. You sighed and reached up to touch his hair, your palm skimming the outline of his ear; he pressed into your touch, his eyes warm.

“Laurie...” you said quietly. “I have never felt so much depth of feeling for one person in my life up to now, but...”

You trailed away and he stared down at you, still side on to him, and waited. You didn’t carry on.

“But what?” he prodded, needy and impatient.

You sighed again and shook your head.

“I have nothing” you told him, your own gaze pleading with him to understand you. “I have no money, no property, nothing to my name. It’s all gone.”

Laurie threw his hands up and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, wanting to shake you and kiss you at the same time.

“You know that money is not an issue. You know it does not matter to me that you do not own property. I am yours. With all I have, I am yours.”

You stared up at him, aware that your mouth was slightly open, your mind shocked.

“With all my heart, I am yours” you whispered, barely able to get the shaky words out. “I love you, Theodore Laurence.”

He shook his head at you, coming round to stand right in front of you, forcing you to tip your head back slightly to meet his eyes.

“Call me Laurie” he said, and kissed you.

The music ebbed away, the dancers faded into pastel shadows, and all you knew was the feel of Laurie’s lips on yours and the sudden heat in the room making your head spin. His hands cupped your cheeks, fine, long fingers disappearing into your hair and pulling strands free. Then one hand left your face and meandered down past your shoulders until it reached the violet ribbon. Fingers tugged insistently until it slid loose and he pocketed it, one end poking out slightly from the edge of his trouser pocket.

The room and its dancers slowly came back into focus as Laurie pulled back, his eyes gleaming and a smile unravelling across his face as he looked at you.

“You look beautiful tonight, my love” he told you, biting his lip. “Especially now.”

You didn’t even glance at the room to see if anyone was looking before you yanked him back, an amused chuckle escaping his lips before they were pressed to yours once again.

A/N: Please comment and let me know what you think of this first installment!

[clinquaant]

101 PLOT BUNNIES / Dear Prudence, a Theodore Laurence Fanfiction

PRUDENCE POIRIER WAS ACCUSTOMED TO HIDING IN THE SHADOWS. With her father fighting in the Civil War, she and her mother occupied themselves with finding work so that, when the time came, their family could buy a proper home upon the patriarch’s return.

While scouring the streets of Boston, Prudence and her mother, Mabel, ran into James Laurence, a man who occupied a house larger than he could ever need with only himself and his grandson. After Mabel detailed her prowess as a housekeeper and her daughter’s green thumb for the neglected greenhouse he spoke of, Mr. Laurence gladly accepted the help with the condition that the two women would take up two of his empty rooms, in an attempt to liven up the house into a home once again.

Mabel was grateful that she had come across a genuine man such as Mr. Laurence, rather than being stuck in an unideal situation. Prudence, upon hearing Mr. Laurence’s mention of a family full of daughters that lived across the road, was ecstatic at the prospect of making new friends. What took her most by surprise, though, was the friendliness of Mr. Laurence’s aforementioned grandson.

Listening to her mother’s words of caution, Prudence kept her distance from the boy who seemed to have too-good of intentions. Until, letters with the salutation “Dear Prudence” began welcoming her in the greenhouse most mornings, written in what could only be his impeccable, product-of-being-privately-tutored handwriting.

Mabel instructed Prudence to be respectful, and how disrespectful would it be if she didn’t write to him back?

[eternalslover]

I NEED MORE PEOPLE TO WRITE FOR THIS MAN RIGHT HERE

PLEASE I NEED SOME 1994 LAURIE WRITING PLEASE

AND IDC WHAT YOU WRITE ABOUT HIM

ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT, HEADCANONS, BLURBS, DRABBLES, IMAGINES ECT

PLEASE I JUST NEED SOMETHING

I AM FEEDING ON CRUMBS AT THE MOMENT PLEASEEE

ALSO, I JUST NEED PEOPLE TO START WRITING FOR 1994 LITTLE WOMEN IN GENERAL

CAUSE LIKE- WHERE IS ALL THE STUFF FOR 1994 BETH?!?!

[loonylupinblack3]

Who I Write For

A list of people (and ships) I write for

If you want me to write about any of these people just send a request. If there is someone else from one of the fandoms listed below you want me to write about, request it and I'll see if I'll write about it (I probably will).

HARRY POTTER

x readers:

Regulus Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Pandora Lovegood, Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, Mary McDonald, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Fred Weasly, Newt Scammander

ships:

Jegulus, Wolfstar, Marylilly, Rosekiller, Dorlene, Jily, Marylene, Prongsfoot, Drarry, Linny

MCU

x readers:

Peter Parker 1 & 3, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Tony Stark, Mark Spector/Steve Grant, Kate Bishop, Peter Maximoff, Maria Hill

ships:

Romanogers, Stucky, Stony, Blackhill, Ironstrange, Pepperioni

X-MEN

x readers:

Logan Howlett, Peter Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr, Mystique

ships:

Xavier x Erik

TEEN WOLF

x readers:

Stiles Stilinski, Kira Yukimura, Isaac Lahey, Void Stiles, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Theo Raeken, Derek Hale

ships:

Stydia, Sterek, Scallison, Scira, Scisaac, Thiam, Stora

FORMULA 1

x readers:

Charles Leclerc, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Logan Sargeant

ships:

Lestappen, Carlando, Landoscar, Charlos

MAZE RUNNER

x readers:

Thomas, Newt, Minho, Brenda, Aris

ships:

Newtmas

STRANGER THINGS

x readers

Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Mike Wheeler, Max Mayfield, Eddie Munson, Peter Ballard, Nancy Wheeler

ships:

Steddie, Ronance, Byler,

VAMPIRE DIARIES

x readers:

Klaus Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes, Jeremy Gilbert, Katherine Pierce, Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore, Kai Parker, Enzo St John

NARNIA

x readers:

Prince Caspian, Edmund

ships:

Caspian x Edmund

DC

x readers:

Dick Grayson, Harley Quinn

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

x readers:

Regulus Black, Theodore Laurence, Paul Atreides

OUTER BANKS

x readers:

JJ Maybank, Rafe Cameron

[lunatiqez]

how would you guys feel if i wrote a parent!au w one of my fandoms ?! yes? no? (im RLLY struggling with wanting to be a mama <\3. baby fever hitting like a brick lately…)

[roxygen22]

Sick Timothee with fem reader as caretaker plz ❤️

Thanks to You

Summary: Fem!reader takes care of feverish Laurie

A/N: Decided to write using Timothee's Laurie as the main character because the time period makes fevers much more scary.

Laure's restless stirring awakened you. You blinked, unable to focus since it was still dark out. You reached your hand out to place gentle, comforting pressure on his arm, as you often did if he was suffering a nightmare, but instantly drew it back in shock. He was putting off more heat than your fireplace.

You grabbed the oil lamp on your nightstand and raised the flame. There was a sheen of sweat blanketing his forehead and chest, though he was shivering like he had been out in the snow. "Fever," you breathed out worriedly.

You jumped out of bed and quickly set to work gathering supplies. You immersed a cloth in water and wrung it out to place on his forehead. You rubbed the herb poultice Mrs. March had shown you how to make onto the soles of his feet and covered them with socks. He shifted his head side to side, mumbling your name.

"[Y/N], [Y/N]," he muttered weakly.

You ran your fingers through his damp curls. "I'm here, my love. I'm here."

"[Y/N]?" Laurie's glazed eyes opened, but they never focused on you.

He's delirious, you thought to yourself. You looked out the window, countenance falling as you realized the blizzard meant you could not send for help. The whole town was snowed in. "You have to get better, Laurie," you stated as you cradled your slight baby bump with your free hand.

He became slightly more alert as the dawn arrived. You took the opportunity to get him to drink some water. He was shaking so much from the throes of fever that he could not hold the cup without spilling. You sat beside him to support his head and hold the cup to his lips. You were grateful to see that at least some water made it into his mouth. Exhausted, he flopped his head back onto the pillow and looked up at you.

"Y-you should k-keep your distance. You d-don't n-need to get sick, too," Laurie said through chattering teeth.

"Nonsense. Who else is going to take care of you, hmm?" You half-smiled, not quite enough to reach your eyes. You wet the cloth again and gently wiped his neck, chest, and arms. "Are you hungry?" you asked when you finished, but there was no response. He had already fallen asleep again. You surveyed the dark purple circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin.

You rose from your perch by Laurie's side to start some soup for when he woke again. He came to about an hour later. You helped him sit up against the headboard so he could eat. He scowled when you attempted to spoon feed him. "Come on, now. You need to eat something to keep your strength, and I'm sure you don't want to spill hot soup in your lap," you chided. He rolled his eyes and acquiesced. You chuckled. At least he was feeling good enough to give you an attitude.

The food did him some good, because soon he wanted to get up and move around. You helped him to the front room to his armchair. While he read by the fire, you changed the damp sheets. It wasn't long before he was ready to lay down again. The two of you repeated this cycle throughout the day.

When night came once more, the fever ravaged again. You covered him with every blanket in the house and practically laid on top of him to warm him up. The shaking eventually relented, giving both of you a reprieve. You fell asleep sitting next to the bed, holding his hand while your head rested on your arm.

You woke to the feeling of a hand playing with your hair. You groggily raised your head and were greeted by Laurie's smile. "Good morning, my dove."

You smiled at the nickname and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Your fever broke," you said in relief. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. "I was so worried."

"I'm alright, thanks to you."

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

[loverangels]

LAURIE LAURENCE

the way things go (angst/fluff)

(to be completed)

[feyofmay]

Girls are Never Civil

Laurie x March!Reader x Jo (platonic) Summary: When a Laurie & Jo are walking home, they spot Jo's younger sister on the ground (reader/Ducky). Jo attempts to help her sister, but it does not go as planned. word count: 2.5k Warnings: Fluffffffffff, all platonic, laurie gets kicked in the no no square, reader gets called "Ducky"

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader romance story, so please let me know if you want more!! its already at 20k wordsssss :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

This is part of a larger story I'm writing called "What Women are For", which is Laurie x Reader (romantic). Let me know if you're interested in reading it!

Tightly curled up into a knot, in the middle of the dirt road, a trembling wad of buttercup yellow fabric shakes and wails into the torn flesh of her fist. Sympathising with the lump of stains, tears, and snot, the trees hang still in a moment of tender silence. The middle March sister has stopped trying to breathe through her sobs, as the dust from the path had raced up her nose and left a shocking pain. It’s as if someone shoved stinging nettle straight up her nostrils and pushed until the tip of the branch tickled her brain. 

A hot red bite mark appears as if it’d been welted to the plush skin of her hand. She swears she’s bitten straight to the bone. Still, the tears continue to cascade down her blubbery cheeks as they slip their way into the wound. Overwhelmed with pulsing, hot pain, she can’t tell if the injury, itself, or the salt from her tears biting at her raw flesh hurts more. Everything hurts so much. All she wants is for Marmee to pick her up and cradle her like she had when the girl was younger. She wants Marmee to kiss away her tears and promise her everything would be alright. She wants to be home, where Meg would wipe at her wounds with a damp rag while Amy buries her face into Beth’s stomach and cries her own, fat tears. Even when she isn’t the one who got hurt, Amy still always ends up crying. However, the middle March didn’t mind Amy’s theatrics, as it meant that Jo would end up teasing the younger March rather than her. Still, she’d never admit that, or any of this. She’d be far too embarrassed. If anyone knew that she felt this way, she’d surely have to run away from home forever. Wherever could she go, anyways? She’d go West to California. No, she’d had to leave the country and go to Europe. Maybe then she could build her life up from scratch and escape the teasing of her sisters. 

Caught up in her own puddle of pity, the middle sister doesn’t catch the familiar sound of clumsy, crashing boots hitting the dirt path. Not far down the road and following the setting sun, a grey tattered wool skirt chases the wind as a high collared, perfectly off white shirt stumbles after her. Their laughter sings in perfect harmony with each other, and, around them, the world pauses to smile and watch as their youth passes them by. Each leaf and blade of grass gleams warmly, knowing that they will feed this memory to the flora of next summer. Unsuspecting and attempting to hide within the folds of her baby fat, she doesn’t hear as the footsteps come to a halt. The sound of their panting breaths fills their own ears. For a moment, all they can do is stare at the small conglomeration of dirt and snot. Swiftly, that moment ends as one of them stomps up to her.

“Ducky, what on Earth are you doing?” she spits out with more venom than intended, but such is the voice of a teen girl. The older sister’s hand shoots out and pinches Ducky’s dust-covered forearm. However, the young girl doesn’t squeal as her eyes shoot up to confirm her worst fears. The dirt on her face has mixed with her tears, leaving a thin film of mud on her cheeks. Her face is still stuffed with her baby fat and clinging onto her childhood as she enters her first few years of teenagedom. Immediately after locking eyes with her older sister, Ducky starts to thrash and shake like a force beyond nature. Her fists swing wildly and her legs rise and fall like the waves of the tsunami. Dirt kicks up around them and peels back their human disguise. It reveals what the two truly are. They are girls. They are hurricanes and the screaming wind at night. They are motion and sound and all that will forever remain restless. Girls will never be civil. They will never shed their empathy to trade it for boots and proper manners. Instead, they will spend their days fighting in the dirt and letting the dust mix with their sweat. The dust will turn to mud and clay, and, when the sun sets, they will freeze into statues, preserving their childhood forever.

“Let go, Jo-” Ducky shrieks as she kicks everywhere but where her sister is planted. Still, Jo is stronger than her sister, and her grip is determined. Ducky’s plump fingers wrap around Jo’s wrist as she continues to flail like a blouse in a tornado. 

“What is wrong with you?” Jo yells back even louder, joining her sister in her insanity. After all, what are sisters for, if not to join each other in their melodrama? Rushing to her aid, a boy, about Jo’s age, presses his palms to the younger girl’s shoulders and allows his weight to give him the upperhand. Ducky, seeing Jo’s companion, lets out a deafening scream as her eyes shoot up to Jo.

“-No! No! No! Just let me die here! I’d rather die!” Ducky spits out, as she clings onto her sister’s arm. Now, instead of screaming curses about her name, her fingers plead Jo to not let go. Her eyes, the size of teacups at this point, dart between the two. She’s too stubborn to hold her sister's gaze, but she’s too scared to look into the boy’s, who she’s spent the last half year avoiding like he’s death incarnate. 

When he first introduced himself to the March’s, after the ball where Meg had sprained her ankle, it was then she started feeling something fester and skitter around in her stomach. An adolescent boy was in her house. He was in her house, and he was talking to his sisters. She didn’t speak a word, and she never intended to ever find herself within a mile of him. Every time he would make his way over to their home, Ducky would race over to tumble behind the nearest wall or piece of convenient furniture. Amy and Beth would laugh and tease her for her ridiculous behavior, but they didn’t understand. How could they? Amy and Beth were still kids, but she, Ducky, was a teen girl. Amy and Beth could never understand.

“No can do. So sorry to dissapoint,” Jo’s friend replies through shallow gasps of air, and, for the first time, Ducky gets a good look at his face. His hair is the same color as when the first calls of morning brush against the forest’s skin, and slivers of his eyes twinkle amber in the last caresses of the day’s gentle touch. When she meets his eyes, his gaze is real but not stern. Without speaking, she can see the boy who’s only truly grown in the ways that allow him to wear a man’s clothes. With hunched shoulders and a tight jaw, what stares back at her isn’t the lumbering shadow she’s stitched onto his frame. All that’s there is a teen boy, who’s not all that different from her. 

And, as the dust settles, and all three of them catch their breaths, the youngest of them is able to think again. It’s then, she realizes, a boy, a teen boy, is touching her. Once again, she tenses up and acts before her next breath. To say exactly what happened next is impossible. However, in the blink of an eye, Ducky’s knee raises, his grip loosens, and suddenly he’s curled up into himself and clutching between his legs. 

“Are you insa - Oh lord, Teddy are you okay?” Jo stumbles through her words as she rushes over to her friend’s side. Ducky inches away from the two of them. Her breaths are shaky and ragged, and the inside of her throat is torn from heaving in dust. She’s not exactly sure she’s even breathing. 

“He grabbed me! What else was I to do?” Ducky shouts over Jo while a new stream of steady tears bubble down her cheeks. All she can hear is the rush of her heart as her skin tightens and squeezes her aching bones. Does Jo care more about Teddy then her? Will Jo hate her forever for this? She can’t lose Jo to a boy. It would be too devastating.

“Because you were kicking and squealing like a rabid pig,” Jo reminds her as Teddy starts to sit himself up and brush off the dirt that cakes his linen pants. The dirt has turned his pristinely off-white shirt a patchy shade of taupe, and pieces of hair cling to the sweat that stains his forehead. 

“I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad at me,” the younger sister begs, pulling her knees to her chest. Only then does Jo notice the clean rip across her sister’s dress, and her knees, which may have once been red, are painted a festering purple and green. Jo shuffles on her knees over to her sister. Reaching out to touch Ducky’s wound, her hand is quickly swatted away.

“Don’t touch me-”

“What happened?” Jo asks with a biting tongue that’s nearly indistinguishable from Marmee’s stern tone, who they both knew would be anything but pleased if she saw this scene play out in front of her. 

“- I won’t tell you!” Ducky exclaims, her fingers digging into the fabric of what once was a yellow dress. Now, the dress better resembles a scrap of hazy beige fabric with twisting red stains. 

“If I say, he’ll make fun of me! I’ll be a big joke to the both of you,” Ducky continues rambling on before Jo can reply. The older sister scoffs before she can even think of a smart response. 

“Stop being stupid.”

“I’m not! He’ll laugh at me and then you’ll join in too. I’ll die before I tell either of you.”

“I promise I won’t laugh if you tell us what happened,” Teddy speaks up, stopping the glaring contest between the two March sisters. Rather, he ends up with both of the sisters’ wrath upon him as they try to burn holes through him with their gazes alone. However, after his words settle in a new silence, the younger of the two March’s expression softens like butter left in the sun.

“...Will you pinky promise?” she inquisitively replies, not an ounce of humor in her voice. Still curled into a shaking dust ball, Ducky’s shoulders fall as her skin relents and lets her body relax again. 

“Yes, I will,” He replies with the same sincerity as he crawls over, pinky extended. Still shaking, Ducky sticks out her pinky. The blood on her finger has congealed, leaving a deep maroon and brown crust on it that highlights the creases and wear of her fingers. Without hesitation, Teddy curls his pinky around her own, and she stares down as some of her blood coagulates and mixes with the muck that coats his hand. The teen boy’s gaze stops slightly higher, as he finally is granted permission to commit the middle March’s features to memory. Her cheeks are practically about to burst with youth and baby bat. An enteral rosy flush of girlhood stains her skin, and her eyes walk a fine line of being doe-like and bug-like. Her features are an odd amalgamation of the child she’s been and the lady she’s becoming. Suddenly, a fit of giggles bubbles up from her chest, and she looks up at Teddy while their fingers stay intertwined. 

“I thought I saw a fairy, and so I chased it. and then I tripped and fell and ripped Meg’s dress and the pain was so bad I bit my hand and I skinned my knees and I think some of my chin,” Ducky admits with a twitching, uneven smile stretched across her face. One of Teddy’s eyebrows raise in an incredulous surprise, presenting a smile that’s symmetrical to the younger girl’s. He slowly turns his head back to meet Jo’s gazes, whose eyes are glued to her sister’s. Slowly, like a pot of water coming to a simmer, all three of them dissolve into a fit of giggles. Their voices bubble and pop into the summer air as they shake the dust off their clothes with their heaving shoulders and shaking heads. None of them know exactly what the joke is, but none of them can fight through the never ending stream of laughter to ask. For what feels like seconds and days, the three lay on the road twisting and writhing in laughter until the sun finds rest in a valley far from the three’s line of sight. 

Once the three finish collecting the remnants of themselves and picking up their aching bodies from the road, Jo hoists Ducky onto her back and kisses her bloody hand. A small streak of the dusty maroon liquid stains her lips, but the older sister doesn’t try to wipe it off. Ducky’s cheek is pressed to hers as they walk at a leisurely pace. All either can hear is the steady rate of their perfectly similar breaths. A silent “I love you” is shared in each inhale, and, through each exhale, boths’ feelings are validated and fully realized. Teddy matches their pace as they walk through the beginning of the young night’s song. Stretching out her hand, Ducky lightly brushes the creased fabric of his sleeve in a poor attempt to tap his shoulder. The young girl doesnt look over to him but, rather, rests her chin on her sister’s shoulder.

“I’m Y/N, but Jo n’ everyone calls me ‘Ducky’,” the young girl introduces herself as if he hasn’t been Jo’s friend for several passing seasons, “I hate it, but you can call me it, if you want to.” Although she has found the courage to speak to the young boy, she hasn’t found it in herself to look him in the eyes. Perhaps one day she’ll find her bravery hiding in the trenches of her gut, but today is not that day. Teddy smiles through a sigh as he looks over at her. Half of her dress is so torn it almost drags against the ground, and the rest of her is hidden under the protective folds of Jo’s gray skirt. 

“I’m Laurence, but Jo calls me ‘Teddy’ and everyone else calls me ‘Laurie’,” The young boy plays along in introducing himself. For a split second, he catches her eyes darting over to catch his gaze, but the second is quick.

“Okay, Laurie,” she replies simply, ending the conversation as soon as it had started. For the rest of the trek home, the three walk in silence, and the world doesn’t speak either as it watches over the three make their way home. 

Please like & repost & comment !! Also let me know if you're interested in reading the whole Laurie x reader fanfic !! It goes back & forth between past & present, similar to 2019 movie adaption.

[hiddleswiftt]

I love your fics and I saw you wanted ideas so here I am. I thought maybe you could do a Taylor inspired fic for Laurie with Love Story maybe with like a ball or something?

ooohh! yes! I’ve been waiting on a laurie fic request for a while now!

maybe with another march sister reader??

(tumblr deleted my first draft so i have to re-write!)

LOVE STORY (INSPIRED BY THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “LOVE STORY”!)

laurie laurence x march sister (fem) reader!

description - you have been friends with laurie (along with your sisters) since his mother passed away. laurie was the lonely boy who was living with old mr laurence who lived opposite the march house, and ever since he started hanging around with you and your sisters, you’ve started to have feelings for him. six years later, you are travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion whilst you are studying and completing your acting classes. you and aunt march are invited to a ball in paris and someone in particular is on the list for you to dance with for the night! - i tried to make it similar to amy and laurie’s story but the reader wanting to be an actress rather than an artist like amy!

you’ve always loved laurie. always.

even when he had feelings for one of your older sisters josephine (or jo).

you’d be the one sitting aside, especially during your eldest sister meg’s wedding, while you watch jo and laurie dance. amy would reassure you that you’d be okay as you sit with her and beth (as she continued to struggle slightly from trying to get better from scarlet fever).

when beth got scarlet fever, laurie was always around for you. when you found out about it, jo and meg told you to stay with aunt march until beth is well again.

“i don’t want to say with aunt march! id rather catch scarlet fever than stay with her, the poodle and the parrot!” you’d wine as you put your head between the pillows of the couch while laurie would insist for you to stay with aunt march.

he was very persuasive, but in a kind way.

he wouldn’t tell you to do something if you didn’t want to. but this was serious. the spread of scarlet fever was serious. it wasn’t a joke anymore. you just about understood that.

laurie told you he’d come and see you, and you suggested for him to bring either the carriage or the phaeton, which he did, just to make you happy.

whenever laurie came to see you, you’d be dancing dramatically (as you would usually) wearing aunt march’s feathered things. you’d smile at him when you realise he’s been standing at the doorframe of the room watching you.

you’d show him things such as aunt march’s wedding ring (which you told him that she was too fat to wear anymore - he’d snigger at you quietly when you said this), the golden bracelet that was for the only child she ever had (until it died unfortunately…) or perhaps anything else you had found amongst aunt march’s house while she was napping.

you would show laurie the will you’ve written, since you thought you’d be the next to die to scarlet fever. laurie sat with you in confusion.

“from y/n m/n march, this is her will and testament for those that may die after her,” laurie read, “for my sister jo, i give her my..”

in this case the list went on.. and on..

laurie looked at you, “y/n.. you’re not going to die! you’re not even sick!” he tells you, trying to reassure you that you were going to be fine.

then you look across to him, and slump down next to him, “i know.. it’s just a precaution! i will some day.. we all do!” you tell him.

there’s a silence between the two of you. then you finally pluck up the confidence to ask laurie to write something else on your will.

“laurie? i have one more thing for you to add?” you ask him, “i want all my curls cut off to all the men who had loved me!”

you seem a little dramatic, but laurie laughs at you slightly and quickly scribbles it down on the will for you.

“if you want to look horrific in your coffin, y/n, go ahead!” laurie tells you, laughing as he finishes writing your comment on the will.

TIME SKIP -

it had been a year since and you had been travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion, while you completed and studied your acting classes.

you and aunt march were set to attend a ball in paris! you had changed a lot since you left home so aunt march suggested that you should start looking towards marriage now that you are properly of age now.

you had met a man named fred vaughn back a few years ago (he’s a friend of laurie’s) on the lake one summer. aunt march suggested for the two of you to marry, but you were unsure, and you thought that you wanted to make your own match.

you arrived at the ball venue in paris. you looked stunning. one of the best dressed probably..

as you entered the venue, you were given a card which included 6 men that wanted to dance with you for the evening.

you glanced at the names on the card briefly (except for the first - which you headed to first).

gregory lance - the first gentleman on the list. wants to dance “the saraband” with you. so you headed towards him for the dance.

as you quickly got through each dance, you finished your fifth finally. you said goodbye to david molesey - who was your fifth dancer, and looked down to your card again to find your sixth and last dance of the night.

you looked down to spot a familiar name on your card.

‘6. theodore laurence - lancers’

you smile and start to look for laurie, not realising that he was already staring at you from the doorframe of the room.

you smile at him and you decide to meet each other half way.

you hug him straight away, trying not to let you or laurie ruin your look of the night. “laurie! what are you doing here? i thought you were in london with your grandfather!” you said, smiling at him.

he smiles at you, completely in awe of you of how beautiful you look, “well.. i guess i am needed here just incase you need anything, y/n march!” he said, “and you look so beautiful! i almost didn’t recognise you!”

you blush a little and slap his arm softly, “yeah yeah.. what have you been up to, laurie?” you ask him, “anymore of the gambling and the drinking?”

he laughs slightly, “no.. no.. none of that recently, y/n!” he tells you, then you remember something that didn’t do laurie any good recently.

“im so sorry jo turned you down, laurie.. im so sorry.” you tell him, looking at him, making sure he’s okay.

laurie looks back up at you, “don’t worry.. im not..” he said to you, smiling at you and taking in the view of you, then he remembered that you both have a dance together, “miss march? may i have this dance?”

laurie takes your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room to start the dance. you nod at him, “one often does at a ball, laurie laurence..” you tell him, giggling at him a little.

he smiles at you, as you both walk and start the dance. the dance has become more easier for you both.

you remember when you were younger, probably about five years ago, you and laurie were stood in the laurence house dancing. beth was playing the piano, meg was constantly flirting with mr brooke and jo and amy were giggling at you two while we continued to step on each others feet as you both danced.

oddly it was the same dance that were to start dancing at the ball just then. it was a familiar feeling that you hadn’t seen or talked of in a long while. the nostalgia rushed back to you both immediately.

it felt just right.

as the music and the dance stopped, there was a sense of something between you two.

you invited laurie to talk with aunt march and a few others. a lot of aunt march’s friends thought you and laurie were married!

you just shut your mouth and didn’t say much after that.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you decided to have a break and walk outside to get some air on the balcony. it was getting slightly too warm in the building so it was good to escape for a few minutes.

you didn’t notice laurie behind you, so it shocked you for a moment.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asked you, finally catching up with you and standing next to you on the balcony.

you smile up at him, “yes.. yes.. im fine.. i just needed some air..” you tell him.

you notice two boats on the ocean near to the venue, as you both stood on the balcony. the boats were close together. laurie caught you looking at them, and swiftly looked back at you to admire you.

“those boats are pretty close together.. as if they are on the same path..” you mumble to him.

laurie smiles and takes your hand in his. this gets you to look up at him. “y/n.. are we on the same path?” he asks you.

you suddenly look from the boats to laurie, who had now taken your hand in his. you looked into his eyes. you both knew exactly what you wanted.

“i guess we are, laurie…” you finally admit, as you start smiling at him.

you both stand and admire each other for a couple of seconds, then laurie begins to hold your waist, now leaning into you slowly.

as you both continue to stand on the balcony, you and laurie lean in together for a slow but passionate kiss.

you bring your hand to his cheek, and continue to kiss. the two of you felt alive at this point. more alive than you both have ever felt, ever.

you knew you should’ve told him how you felt years ago, although laurie was in love with jo at the time. gladly, you didn’t think that was the case anymore.

laurie loved you. and you only.

you loved laurie. and laurie only.

you both moved away from the kiss, laughing and sniggering still as if you were still children. you both knew that you weren’t children anymore, since time and your childhoods have gone so fast, and you both had nothing you could do to change that.

you were just happy in the moment. the moment you were continuously picturing for years. you never thought it would ever happen, but here you both were. in that moment together.

you notice something different about him that you didn’t see before.

“laurie. you grew out your hair!” you say, playing with it a little.

laurie laughs at you slightly, “i guess you could care for it?” he says, now looking at you.

you smile at him happily, “always, laurie… always!” you say, kissing his cheek.

suddenly someone with a letter on a tray walks to you and laurie. you pick it up swiftly and open it, making sure laurie stands by you though it, as you think the letter could be what you think it could be.

you read the letter. you were right.

you stand next to laurie and sob into his arms.

“it’s beth…” you say as you put your head into his chest, letting laurie hold you.

you let laurie read the letter. it’s from marmee, clarifying beth’s death.

you weren’t as close to beth as jo was to her. but you did have your fun times. especially that same moment when you, laurie and your sisters were in laurence house together, as beth played the piano while you and laurie would attempt to dance but instead you’d be treading on each others feet.

although you and beth weren’t as close as her and jo were, she still was your sister.

it was as if you planned out her death, as if you planned out your own with the will you wrote and told laurie about a few years ago.

MINI TIME SKIP -

it took you a couple of days to get through beth’s death. you were still in paris, you told marmee you’d come home as soon as possible.

you had a mix of feelings about what could be happening between you and laurie and thoughts of beth, and the fact that you weren’t there to support her when she was dying.

you stood on the balcony of the home you were staying in with aunt march. aunt march wasn’t doing so great herself either. she was falling ill now.

laurie came to see you that same day. he wanted to talk about the relationship you had but he was unsure whether you were okay to talk about it after hearing about beth’s passing.

“i keep remembering that will i wrote when beth had scarlet fever..” you remind laurie, as you both stand together.

“you bequeathed me a plaster horse, if i remember correctly.” laurie thought, as he looked at you.

“i had my death all planned out.. all rehearsed in my mind…” you say, trying not to cry, “i had beth’s all rehearsed and ready too… thought it would.. tear me open.. or burn me down like a house. but now im just frozen!”

laurie took your hand in his again. “ill come and see you everyday, y/n…” he says, admiring you but also making sure that you’re okay.

you look up at him, slowly twiddling your thumb with his, “promise me?” you ask.

he looks at you again, watching you twiddling your thumb with his, “yes.” laurie told you, now reaching into his pocket for something.

you wonder what he was looking for, so you decided to look out at the view from the castle balcony.

it took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for. he brought a black box from his pocket, and showed it to you.

you turned back to him and looked at the box. you were stunned.

“so.. y/n.. could we make it last forever?” he said, opening the box to reveal the engagement ring inside.

you were taken by surprise that laurie wants to marry you. you smile widely, and nod at him, letting him put the ring on your finger confirming your engagement.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you and laurie were on their way home from your long trip around europe with aunt march. aunt march had briefly found out about your engagement to laurie before passing out, and being taken home with aunt carrol and her daughter florence, who had been your other company before laurie arrived.

as soon as you arrived home, laurie helped you out of the carriage to find meg, marmee, father, amy, and jo (slowly) running out to greet you both.

marmee (with her good eye) noticed a ring on your finger. funnily enough, it wasn’t the same ring that laurie gave you a few days ago. it wasn’t the engagement ring.

you smiled down at the ring, and then looked back up at laurie.

“that’s not an engagement ring!” marmee says, realising something.

you and laurie smile at each other as you notice marmee admiring your ring.

“it’s a wedding ring!” marmee says, pulling you into a large hug and kissing you on the cheek, while father shakes laurie’s hand to congratulate us both, and to thank him for marrying you.

you smile at your mother again. “i cant quite get my glove over it!” you laugh, then moving to laurie to give your ‘husband’ a kiss on the cheek.

MINI TIME SKIP -

the hustle and bustle around the march house after yours and laurie’s return and the surprise of your marriage spread amongst the house. especially to mr laurence (laurie’s grandfather), who had told him to go abroad after jo turned him down.

you were happy. both of you were.

turns out that jo was falling in love with the professor she met at the boarding house in New York. she arrived home a week after yours and laurie’s return after being out in town and the professor was waiting for her.

you knew she was in love with him. jo knew you had always been in love with laurie.

you kindly persuaded jo to tell professor bhaer how she felt about him, and from soon after that, all your sisters and yourself were in love.

you all sat together, you and laurie at the piano as laurie played and you rested your head on his shoulder, meg and john with kitty and minnie, marmee and father and finally jo and bhaer.

it just fitted together so perfectly.

please don’t copy my work! <3

(let me know what you think of this fic by giving this post a like, follow and a comment!)

— h4uerkings

[stray-kaz]

Sugar & Spice : a Theodore Laurence x reader FF : two

A/N: The gif is from one of my favourite moments in film ever, and if that makes me a little bit crazy, I do not care, I love it.

18 and up, y’all.

“Marry me.”

The words came one month later, and Laurie pleaded his case with stormy sea eyes, insisting that he had loved you for years already, so why make you both wait any longer? Your yes came in the form of a hasty kiss, your fingers in his hair, stuck fast. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and your nose bumped gently against his.

He propped his chin on top of your head, oblivious to the people passing you by in the park, watching the young lovers with curious eyes.

The sun was high and warm, the sky perfect and blue, the scent of late summer flowers sweeping lightly on the air as the floral arch was being set up in the Laurence family’s backyard.

Inside the March house, the four sisters, Marmie and Hannah were fussing around you like hens, tugging at your dress, straightening the lace detail below your collarbones and adjusting the pale blue ribbon at the back of your head, the rest of your hair flowing down away from it to your shoulders.

Suddenly, Jo hugged you from behind, careless of the wrinkling fabric of your wedding dress.

“I still can hardly believe it” she mumbled in your ear. “One of my best sisters and my best friend. It’s like a dream!”

Meg rolled her eyes but smiled as she gently ushered Jo away from you.

“Come now” she said over her shoulder, winking at you. “Your beau awaits, lovely.”

You nodded and followed them, the others falling into position behind you, your small bouquet of wild purple flowers shaking slightly in your trembling hands.

As you approached the waiting group of your friends and Laurie’s family, your breath caught; your fiance was standing in front of the arch, which now had sunflowers woven through the tiny purple blooms it had boasted the last time you saw it.

Laurie saw you looking and grinned, holding his arm out to you when you finally reached him. You tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“My favourite colour and your favourite flowers” he said quietly. “I’m glad you like it.”

You didn’t have words to reply, and you didn’t think you would be able to verbalise your enthusiastic consent to marry him, but you told him you loved him in no uncertain terms and said I do, and he did the same, eyes fixed on you the entire time.

And when he leaned in to kiss you, all you could see was the colour of his eyes as everyone and everything around you faded away, leaving the two of you alone in the backyard in front of an arch of flowers.

You were dancing contentedly with Robert March when your young husband approached to steal you away, high colour flushing his cheeks and his gaze a little feverish. Your breath hitched in your throat; you knew that expression, it was the look he wore when he wanted to ditch the chaperone and kiss you breathless against a wall or a handy piece of furniture.

“May I steal my wife, sir?” Laurie asked politely, ever the gentleman in spite of his true desire. “I really must speak with her.”

Robert nodded and smiled, passing you over to him.

“Of course, Laurie” he said. “By all means.”

Laurie jerked his head in a quick nod, snatched at your hand and all but dragged you away towards the house, crowding you up against a wall out of sight of the wedding guests. His hands bracketed your head, pressing hard on the wall, his lower body pressing the front of your skirts. He leaned his forehead against yours, his stormy eyes piercing and hungry as he let his mouth skim over yours.

“Right now?” you murmured, a little higher pitched than you meant.

“Uh, please” Laurie groaned, shifting his hips even closer. “This day is too long, my love.”

You couldn’t prevent the laugh that escaped you, followed by a hapless moan as the tip of his tongue grazed yours, having taken advantage of your suddenly open mouth. You were embarrassed by your reaction to him, to him begging you for more, to the unrestrained want in this day is too long, my love.

You moved just a little and you brushed against the firmness below his trousers, causing both of you to jump a little and groan, his mouth still dangerously hot on yours, his hands now gripping your waist, fisting the creamy material of your dress and tugging it up ever so slightly.

You put a hand over his to stop him. He stopped kissing you to gaze instead, and you swallowed hard at the sight of his blown out pupils, black as an eclipse.

“Theodore Laurence, everyone is still here!” you hissed, wide eyed.

He didn’t say anything else, but he did reach down to haul your skirt up high enough to enable him to slip his right hand underneath, searching, finding the top of your expensive wedding underwear and delving past the fine fabric. You gasped at the same time as his lips parted on a sigh as two slender fingers found evidence of your excitement at his actions, in spite of your cautionary reprimand.

“Laurie...” you whimpered, your breath soft and panting.

He raised his head to meet your eyes again, a faint smirk skewing his mouth to one side.

“Yes, my love?”

“If you stop, I shall never wear purple again.”

Laurie grinned and sank those same two fingers inside you, smothering your loud exclamation with his own mouth. When you had stopped making such a lewd sound, he kissed you gently and eased his fingers into a steady rhythm.

He murmured softly against your lips, still parted under his.

“I want to see what my pretty wife looks like under all these layers.”

[ginnysgraffiti]

&. LAURIE LAURENCE x yn (jo).

okay but to be loved by laurie theodore laurence, who would start writing poetry just because you like to, reducing himself to small hours at his wooden desk until his candle burns out? who would always wear his best decorated and sewn vestments but make sure to treat yourself good looking garments because he knows you can't afford it? who would constantly check you out, not giving a damn about your carefree attitude and the way you dress or behave in order to go against society; but even committing to be as weird as you to share laughter and assure you comfort? who would take you dancing confidently, admitting openly he's actually bad at it but being reassured the exact second he sees you're not an expert at all? who would always make sure to tie your dress or bodice very delicately and take his time to admire how good it looks on you? who would quit giving you expensive items because you told him you were attracted to small things, dedicating his romantic gestures to good smelling books or professional fountain pens or soft writing papers? who would propose a picnic on the edge of a shiny and quiet lake full of swans just to admire you and listen to you talk about your books for hours? who would pick you up bride style anytime your shoes hurt and carry you around his maison making you spin in his arms? who would bring a wooden tray with white and pink tea cups every time you wake up and stretch from your afternoon nap? who would carry the smallest piece of clothing or anything similar that smells like the cinnamon and sweet vanilla perfume you put on? who would let you set up his fluffy curls with pink ribbons when you both sit on the mattress while the sunset disappears behind the green hills? who would love you unconditionally, that kind of old-fashioned love that will always make you live in the 1994, young and frisky, running towards the morning wind as you lift your heavy fabric gown.