#laurence you have no idea

[impishtubist]

"Does your heart yearn for a quiet retirement at the end of your service, and a house in the country?"

"Only if there were room enough for a dragon."

THE FORESHADOWING

[captain-rickbond]

Lazzzz ♡︎

[val-of-the-north]

Based on Grand Cathedral observations made by @katyspersonal lol

[mx-myth]

Little thing I wrote because everyone was throwing prompts around on the discord and I got inspired.

When Laurence was young, it was disappointing to be markless. He was never content with not having a soulmate, even with the informal arrangement he had with Edith. He remembers conversations spent together, wondering how long they would have to wait before their soulmates would be born and for their mark to appear.

He cares much less about it now. Perhaps he had felt belated horror after the initial shock ran through his crew aboard the Reliant as Temeraire first spoke and as black scales bloomed across his face. Laurence had felt nothing at the time, no physical sensation to signify the appearance of his soulmark. It was only when Temeraire was eating that Riley had stepped up and quietly told him of what had occurred.

It had taken him a long time to come to terms with having a dragon as a soulmate. But now Laurence wears his mark with pride. Black scales cover his left cheek, reaching down his neck and over the majority of his chest, inked across three-quarters of his arm and stretching down to mid-thigh. It is a huge mark, which would be looked down upon in the polite society in which he was raised. But why wouldn't it be large, given that Temeraire has dominated his life since he entered it?

Laurence remembers being reassured upon meeting the other aviators. Harcourt has lilies blooming up and down her back, she's said, and at times he can glimpse the edges of petals peeking up out of her collar at her neck. Granby has an entire bicep encircled with fire, which became immediately self-explanatory when Iskierka hatched, and even more so when he lost part of his arm. Berkley, in contrast to how large Maximus is, has scales scattered across the backs of his hands in Regal Copper red. James has Volly's colours painted up and down his legs. The Rolands both have blue and orange and white over their cheekbones. Even Little, who Laurence counts as an acquaintance verging on friend, has Immortalis around his wrists. Very quickly he learned that it was more uncommon for an aviator and their dragon to not be soulmates; his large and prominent mark apparently did a lot of work smoothing his arrival in ways he was unconscious of in the beginning.

He had worried also in the beginning whether the rumor was true that dragons didn't have soulmarks. He was afraid of him and Temeraire being different, more so than they already were. But on that front so too were his concerns put to rest.

Perhaps he should have known better. After all, he had known as soon as he looked into Temeraire's blue eyes and seen the storming, crashing waters of the sea within them, no shore in sight as the sky wheeled overhead. It was the sight that made him fall in love with the sea the first time and, he thinks fondly, scratching Temeraire under his closed eye, the sight that made him fall in love with Temeraire too.

(I have a fountain pen and so it doesn't dry up I try and write a little bit every couple of days. Most of it is temeraire-related; I'm thinking the ones small enough to not be fics technically I might post)

[ferronickel]

In typical Ferronickel fashion, I am now plagued with thoughts about how the Brontë's juvenilia would be different in a world where the military had dragons, a subsection of interests that is so irrelevant to everyone else that it's barely every worth mentioning on this site, let alone creating any fanworks about.

I'm gonna do a little incomprehensible rant in the tags about it and the go on my merry way. Please ignore the following

[jeremiahthefroge]

Unironically, IS there anywhere to get a good beat-by-beat plot synopsis of the original Minecraft Diaries without watching it all the way through? I want to get a good idea of all the plot beats and characters and the general timeline to see about writing some fanfic, because the characters are living rent free in my brain, but I'm also like... VERY aware that it's a 2016 minecraft roleplay series... and I fear that I will ruin my own mental image of the series if I try to rewatch it all...

[best-enemies]

Just watched S09E11 of CSI, 'The Grave Shift', after last night's 'One to Go'. I don't think I'll ever recover from Grissom, my favorite character, leaving the show, but his exit was still beautiful and so, so Grissom. Him just telling the team "Yeah so, I'm leaving" and having little moments with each of them, warmed my heart (the character that represented me the most was David, who had to bolt out of the room after Grissom said, "I'll miss you, though", barely managing to hold back the tears before leaving).

And oh my god. His reunion with Sara. They didn't even need words and it was absolutely perfect. Watching Grissom feel physical pain from his break up with Sara broke my heart -- you can see how much he loves her. I hate that they'll break up again; I don't remember how or why exactly, but it feels unnecessary, but I'm comforted by the fact that, ultimately, they'll end up together for the rest of their lives.

One of the things I love about this episode is how they all paid a little homage to Grissom and, near the end, Nick, who was offered Grissom's office, invited Greg and Riley to share it with him. Fits right in with Nick's sweet personality. I love how he says they need all the good energy from that place. He's really Grissom's n#1 pupil ♡

(Shout out to Hodges, one of my favorite characters from this rewatch, walking in and bringing the pig fetus saying it belongs there. I love how bitter he is after Grissom left and how he's not willing to get over it any time soon. Forget David, Hodges is the character that represented me the most, lol).

I need to say, my brain completely ignored the fact that, when Grissom offered Ray Langston a job as a CSI he said that it was an "entry-level job". Instead, I thought he'd get the job as the team leader and it was weird for me to see him being so inexperienced at a job. But all of that is because, one, I haven't rewatched CSI in ten years and forgot about like, 97% of the show and two, I have rewatched Hannibal way too many times and got used to Laurence Fishburne playing a boss, and a damn good one. I do like his character, though!

I'm not a fan of Riley though. I don't know why, she seems mostly competent at her job, fit right in, but at the same time it's not really like she fit in? I felt like maybe she could have had some adaptation into the team, after all she was replacing a long-time team member, Warrick (will talk about him later). Her introduction and adaptation into the team felt a bit sudden and "inorganic" and maybe that's why I don't love her sassy remarks and sort of 'cool girl' personality. Yeah I love Sara but I don't love Riley for the reasons listed above. That could change, though!

Warrick. Oh, man. For Gedda/For Warrick were the most painful episodes to watch and I stalled for months. Some of the team got to have a nice last moment with him, others didn't. It broke my heart how at peace he was in his last hours, hanging out with the work fam, feeling relieved for not losing his job, which was a huge part of his life. I do hate that it had to end like that for him. I get that his death represented the loss of innocence, and that that team wasn't going to last forever... but it's just really painful. To know that he didn't have anyone else, only his soon, which we don't know if he was able to see often...

Too many things happening at once, too many changes, and bumpy ones, but I hope we'll get into a smooth road once again.

[girlanachrotism]

Back to the grind (thinking about Bloodborne)

[katyspersonal]

3 for Aldrich, Aldia, Willem & Laurence

9 for Maria

11 for Micolash & Aldrich

24 for Laurence

(Asks from this ( x ) meme)

3) What first drew you to this character?

As for Aldrich, I vaguely recall finding out that he checks the traits I like the most? He was one of the characters I've learned about through fandom and not on my own, and I think this ancient meme about summarises it:

Also:

@val-of-the-north SHUDDUP you're basically so horny for Laurence/Logarius/Snatchers that you can't even picture them in your mind in any way but being naked!!!!!!! *casts the stone back at u*

With Laurence, like with Mico, it was the very first glance at the character in Youtube compilation with boss themes and concept art image. I did not know the lore yet, but the design and the music made me imagine Laurence as sort of aged, sagely librarian. I could not imagine back then that his boss fight would be him being a "helpless abhorrent little mewmew" as kids call it! Heck, I thought he'd have dialogue despite the monster form x) In a way, my first impression was not wrong, with the cut content of him actually talking even in a beast form, and implication of him being a son of Cainhurst cut content librarian NPC! I have intuition for cut content before having information, hahaha!

I have nothing to say about Willem. It might be a memory gap thing, but I swear at some point I feel I was turned off and then booted back up with liking this character already installed in my system x) As for Aldia.... ugh for fuck's sake... yeah, it was this legend:

I was absolutely floored by this stupid vid even without knowing any context, but I also instantly liked this character. I didn't even know his name yet, but the voice acting and long yapping about philosophy already pulled me in XD (Also unironically, this video is precisely how I give relationship advice fhfhdds)

9) Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

Yeah, I know this person. I know them very well. I know them more than anyone else. Someone who was misguided (by their destructive influence mentor figure, by their own foolishness and past history, or combination of both, who can tell anymore?) into committing awful things, then despaired over their sins and attempted redemption but also failed in some way? This person is me. At some point I've found myself in front of horrible truth about my past life and personality, and knew I was guilty and sullied forever. That it was over for me as a human being, but that didn't matter, and I could only keep people safe by locking myself away and trying to serve something better.

......annnnd it took a few years of more informed people to (metaphorically) shake me and slap my face into lucidity, explaining to me that I've fallen for the "BPD demonization" that was going far beyond than my individual failure as a friend, and we are always accused of abuse and causing irreversible harm when the worst we do is being emotionally overbearing. I kept losing trust to those friends, telling them that they were enablers who tried to gaslight me into thinking I was not 'that much of a monster', until it was other people with BPD who 'shook me and slapped my face into lucidity'. xd Nonetheless, even though now I know the truth about how society treats BPDs, I remember the feeling of being so monstrous and harmful that I was not even allowed to "touch" people with my dirty hands, how my reality used to be. So, I could write Maria going through this effortlessly, especially considering what she did was more plain and tangible!

In fact... thank you for asking me about this, because I kept wondering why I had such frequent dreams about being Maria, and why the Maria in my dreams acts like abused child that took back control against Gehrman despite my portrayal of the guy being so different. And now the puzzle is solved! That part of me still lives inside, it seems.

11) How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Already answered this for Micolash here: ( x )! As for Aldrich, it was through properly analysing the bigger picture and context of his actions. I've figured that his madness was, in fact, being informed on what was far too ahead of everyone else around him! He, like the rest of the cast, is trapped in the rotting, doomed world in which the only choices are 1) "die with dignity" or 2) commit something unthinkable from moral standpoint for a chance to escape. And will morality of the rotting world will matter in the new world anyways? Won't it all be left behind and be forgiven?

The guy also tried to take everyone else he could with him, like sort of a fucked up Noah's Arc! I can tell that they reused the concept with Rykard, at least, I am glad they know what works xD I'd say that the sadism he experienced upon eating people was either result of insanity (he understood a thing no one should understand), or still didn't exclude the bigger purpose (egotistically revelling in how holy he is helping everyone and doing what no one else dared, which would be like my Laurence). In any case, I have the strongest respect to the courage it takes to transcend the bonds of morality and compassion in order to to greater good. Being burdened with the knowledge of how the world really works, and choosing to push through instead of still being bound... This is why I also like Fauxsefka; learning how this world works, she chose to turn people into Kin so they can't ever become beasts. I am weak for this trope, you don't understand.

24) Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

Laurence appears in my dreams only in two contexts: 1) Micolaurence or 2) dreams about finding secret files in Bloodborne that reveal his canonical appearance before beasthood! I can tell the latter comes from my everlasting unsatisfaction with my design for him, because I love it but it doesn't feel "fitting" and I can't identify why!

The former, I think, fandom rubbing onto me x) In two of these dreams, I was Laurence. In other two, I was Micolash. In one of Laurence dreams it was mutual, in the second one I was in love unrequited. In one of Micolash dreams, it was mutual, and in another it was not.. Basically, my dreams allows me to experience this ship from every possible angle. o_o Waiting for more I guess fhhdfsfd

______________

Thank you for asking! And.. without exaggeration, you've just done quite a psychological work on me by just asking the right thing. I need to think about that, hahaha

[fantomette22]

FANTOMEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTTTTTEEEEEEEEE

Hope you're doing well bud!!!! Sending you cookies and tea if you need em!

But anyhoo!

Have you ever thought about creating/designing your own trick weapon?

BIMBOM!!! ❤️ Thanks for the cookie !🍪

And oh I haven’t really thought about it 😐

Designing people is one thing but clothes, accessoires and weapons is another.

Hm… so i thought about it and it’s not really a trick weapon like we have in game.

Hey you guys now about the sword cane right ?

Get ready for …

The umbrella sword ! (Or sword umbrella), one of the very first prototype of trick weapons!

No weapon allowed in Byrgenwerth ? Or you still wanna be safe on a rainy day in Yharnam ? No problem !

(It’s like really early on hm idk some guys wanna steal from Gehrman & Laurence or smt. Just after Gehr oriented Laurence’s umbrella towards them, they push the button and it just throw the upper part at them xD they run away but Gehrman could have kicked their ass)

The others weapons i can think of are like the old spears/ weapons from Cainhurst, a shotgun for the Gatekeeper, the pthumerians weapons, oh and like the Sekiro arm prothesis/ metal glove with a retractable claw or smt (yeah very Wolverine). Oh and Gehrman’s cane. What do you mean it’s not a sword cane ?!

[essentialalls]

If We Were Villains { Old Hollywood Cast }

Errol Flynn as Oliver Marks, Joel McCrea as James Farrow, Vincent Price as Alexander Vass, Frances Dee as Filippa Kosta, Laurence Olivier as Richard Stirling, Claire Bloom as Wren Stirling, Myrna Loy as Meredith Dardenne.

[fakecats]

guys this cold weather is changing me ive been grinding every single day. working on my website working on my p5 fanfic trying to finish my comic . im gonna release so much shit all at once

[mx-myth]

Okay so I've had some meta thoughts about Laurence's amnesia and how it relates to his relationship with Tharkay sitting in my drafts for like over a year now so I figured I'd finally clean it up and post it. Heads up it's really long.

Laurence finally consciously realises that he loves Tharkay (or is in love with him, whatever nuance you'd like) after "knew him, and knew himself." But at this point he's completely in pieces as a person (more on this next paragraph). Post-amnesia, he's an entirely different man. Pre-Temeraire Laurence is the harshest, strictest version both of and with himself. He follows the rules to the letter, basically takes Temeraire only out of duty in the beginning, and even keeps the promise between him and Edith despite there being no formal arrangement at all. Post-Temeraire but pre-amnesia Laurence has softened. He's putting less emphasis on the rules and more on his morals (see: treason). He has more leeway but still carries that honor/duty/order with himself.

Which is why post-amnesia Laurence is the version of himself that discovers that he loves Tharkay. In the wake of losing his memories and then regaining them he's lost and unmoored. Both of his past selves are so different and therefore so distant. They're both true but it's too jarring for him - especially in his current circumstances, much less the overall war - so Laurence becomes a new person. This is Laurence at his most vulnerable, his most unguarded, who smiles more often now because he doesn't really know that he didn't smile that much before. He has two major tethers to his personhood: Temeraire and Tharkay (I hesitate to say only tethers, simply because Laurence's life isn't that small, but repeatedly these two are the ones who have had the biggest impact on his life, who have kept him going). Obviously he loves Temeraire, he's never going to stop loving Temeraire, he just isn't capable of it, but seeing Temeraire didn't bring back his memories (I can't imagine how Temeraire must have felt, meeting a version of Laurence who had never met him). Laurence loves Temeraire in the most unconditional, selfless way - to be very Greek about it, his philia. But I think when he finally comprehends how Tharkay was the catalyst behind this radical change of his self he dives into his memories again and goes over them in excruciating detail (and he was definitely doing that already, but now he's doing it with a lens exclusively focused on Tharkay). At some point he comes to the realisation that Tharkay loves him, and that he loves him, and that he's been unconsciously shoving it down every time it's surfaced (past-Laurence was saying no homo while actively homo-ing). And with the benefit of being an new version of the same person (and also some hindsight, finally), this Laurence says, I've committed treason. My country sees me as a traitor but they still need me to serve them as a tool. I lost myself once in a war (see: "what are you doing?") that's still being fought. Time is short and there's no guarantee I won't lose my memories again, that I will still be the person I am right now. What do I have to lose?

(And on some level, this Laurence thinks, what can stop me?)

He begins giving to Tharkay what Tharkay always had given to him. His acts of devotions start small (relative to Tharkay's; transporting too many ferals is obviously a little outside of what Laurence can feasibly do). He cares for Tharkay once he wakes ("have you noticed the top of your head appears likely to come off?"), he helps him eat and drink, he massages his hands once they heal, he stays with him through the nightmares that come to haunt him. And he continues doing these little things for Tharkay, hoping that he understands (he's willing to wait, Tharkay waited for him after all, and Laurence doesn't want to push him, especially as he's healing). But I think the act that hits Tharkay like, oh, it's different this time is when Laurence bargains his freedom to Napoleon. I feel like that carries unspeakable meaning for Tharkay, who was ostracized growing up and ended up never having a "permanent" home since he travelled so much. I can't imagine that he hasn't been in a similar situation before, but he's probably always been expected to weasel his way out of it without any outside help. He's trained himself out of expecting someone to help him, to care enough about him to save him. Yet part of the man who turned to treason simply so the dragons of France wouldn't die in pain lives on in this Laurence. Pre-Temeraire Laurence is rules and post-Temeraire pre-amnesia Laurence is morals, but post-amnesia Laurence is all heart. There was never a way he was going to leave Tharkay behind.

So Tharkay starts watching him. He watches Laurence continue to devote himself to him, again and again. He brings him his coat on cold days. When it rains and their scars ache he curls around his hands and rubs lotion into them. When he goes into town he always brings Tharkay back a little gift. He starts growing vegetables in the garden and he learns how to cook non-wartime foods and how to knit (because he is a man forged by war and what does one even do during peacetime when one's dragon is busy reforming the government, anyway?) and suddenly he's providing for Tharkay like never before. He looked away for one moment and suddenly Laurence's prescence and all that he does has made the manor a home.

Yet Tharkay, for years, has told himself so many times that Laurence is off-limits, untouchable, that he can love him but that there's no chance that Laurence will love him back. The only way he can love Laurence is silently, nearly from afar, and so he tried to do that. But he can't just stand by and so every time he finds himself committing a deux ex Tharkay (see: ferals, again). He understands that there's some shit Laurence needs to learn himself (and god is this series very good about character development for Laurence) but he's not going to do nothing when the man in about to die. For him it's about caring and providing for Laurence even if he doesn't know it. He learns to content himself with the knowledge that, even if nothing comes of it, he can still be by Laurence's side.

But then the amnesia plot happens (which he only learns of after all of it goes down) and suddenly there is a half-stranger wearing the skin of the man he loves (loved, he tells himself) looking at him with those familiar blue eyes filled with a completely unfamiliar emotion. He's relieved that Laurence remembers but he's said that his Laurence is gone that he's even thinking of it like that (Tharkay has a lot of anger, both at himself and others and the world). Laurence is right in front of him, he's not gone at all, but he's gone in a way that matters. But also this new Laurence is by his side all the time. He's feeding him and helping him drink and dress and he sleeps on the floor by his bedside. Tharkay is so confused because this has to be some kind of fantasy dream he's having. He must still be in the cave (and it's believable that he is, because he returns there every night in his dreams). But he isn't and he has to struggle to come to terms with this new Laurence.

So every time Laurence does something even remotely nice he hyper-analyses it and rationalizes it to himself. He deludes himself into thinking that this is normal for Laurence now. It's normal for Laurence to fuss and hen over him now; it's normal for him to smile at him with that emotion written plainly on his face that Tharkay still hasn't (refuses) to decipher. And he does this well into post-canon.

For that reason he only gets with the program when Laurence has to leave the manor (leave home) for a long while (probably with Temeraire) and suddenly Tharkay is all alone in this huge manor. He's wearing the socks Laurence knitted for him and eating food Laurence grew and walking into rooms and seeing little parts of him scattered everywhere. There's a novel he's reading left on the table by the chair he prefers in the library. There's a cookbook in the kitchen in which he's bookmarked recipes he thinks he might like. Tharkay finds a handwritten list of things they need to buy in town left out for him. He left his pillows on Tharkay's bed because he knows he likes sleeping with a ton of pillows (and they smell like him, and Tharkay pretends he doesn't bury his face in him, that he doesn't miss him while he's gone). When Tharkay wakes up in the morning he makes two cups of tea and waits for Laurence to come in from talking with Temeraire before remembering that neither of them are here (home). He expects Laurence to appear in the evenings to ask if he wants to go on a walk through the grounds with him (and he always ends up saying yes). Tharkay learns that the manor is too big for one man who has always been a little too lonely in his life.

So until Laurence returns home he plots and plans and agonizes. After a week once Laurence has come home (and the first thing he had said to him was welcome home, and Laurence had beamed at him, and it was so unbelievably natural to say it) Tharkay begins his attempts at reciprocating. He wakes up earlier so that he can brew Laurence tea so he can take it out to sit with Temeraire. He says that he cooked some of the recipes from Laurence's cookbook and insists on making them for Laurence (he had to figure out his system of marking which recipes were Laurence's favourites). He gifts him a sturdy, functional, and beautifully crafted knife to wear around the house for daily use; he specifically makes sure the knife is up to Temeraire's standards. In fact, Tharkay talks to Temeraire about everything, and Temeraire tells him, with no minced words while completely drawing his own conclusions, that it's very nice that Tharkay is asking him for his blessing, but does he really need it at this point? Haven't they been courting long enough? He's always approved of Tharkay, because he makes Laurence happy.

That's how Tharkay realises he and Laurence have been dancing around each other like shy birds, both of them subtly showing off but not making the first move. And maybe he realises that Laurence is thinking how he used to think - that it's okay as long as he can be by his side, that he doesn't need his love reciprocated (it's a very long chain of Tharkay loving Laurence, Laurence knowing Tharkay loves him and loving him back, and Tharkay loving Laurence and knowing he knows he loves him and loves him back). And of course Tharkay wasn't going to make the first move back then, and if Laurence hasn't by now, then maybe he should borrow some of Temeraire's courage.

It's something small. The words come later, given how action-forward both Laurence and Tharkay are. They don't even need words. Maybe Tharkay takes Laurence's hand during dinner and intertwines their fingers, maybe he touches Laurence's cheek after he's braided his hair as their eyes meet in the mirror, maybe as they pack away the port and piquet he kisses him good night. Whatever it is, they look at each other and simply know. Tharkay sees Laurence slowly start to smile, a huge one that spreads across his entire face, one that he's only seen on Laurence when he thinks he's alone with Temeraire. He seems to brighten, almost radiating light.

For his part, Laurence reciprocates. He squeezes Tharkay's hand, he turns his cheek into Tharkay's touch, he pulls him in for another kiss. He watches as something seems to drop from Tharkay, something that he hadn't even known he was carrying. He becomes loose and relaxed, his body language more open as he looks at Laurence with one of his little smiles, a bit of shyness that he's never seen before evident on his face. He tells Tharkay that he's the most beautiful person he's ever seen.

[synthwayve]

DEVOURING THIS ACTUALLY

Micolash and Laurence sneak out to drink, 1820. 6 months after the discovery of the Old Blood

Comic series here

[jeremiahthefroge]

Every appearance of the red-haired menace that is early Laurence forces me to sit here and stew upon how I will fix his introduction in the rewrite. As a coping mechanism. Unfortunately since I can't remember the parts where his character isn't just harassment so I can't cook with the themes the way I'd like to. Like the way he calls Aph "my love" after she very explicitly in the text of the game tells him not to do that... bad vibes. I think I could rock with his character if he'd done the same sort of approach in hitting on Aphmau as heavily, but the moment she lays down an actual boundary, he backs way the hell off. I could even fuck with her trying to be subtle about the boundary and him not getting it and continuing to make her uncomfortable before she snaps at him and he apologizes, saying that he truly didn't mean anything by it, and he respects the boundary she lays like his life depends on it from then on out. It would create some immediate complexity in his need for explicit communication, and backs up the sort of deeper character hinting they seem to try to do when he's talking about Castor and Cadenza, this idea that he deeply cares, if being a bit pushy on accident. It would also make a good detail fueling the conflicts later on with the love triangle that can sort of prevent Laurence from looking like TOO much of a dickhead (him being unaware or misinterpreting situations, and the delicate nature of it making him uncomfortable asking questions, is a compelling reason to see somebody hurting his friends' feelings, and makes him significantly more sympathetic, opening him up for feelings of remorse and guilt).

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 23) (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Kissing, rice cooking unrealistically fast... oh and external sexual stimulation to the female genitals

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

You smiled as the door clicked shut behind Laurence, silence falling over the house. The prospect of a whole night without him had your heart so light, it made you giddy. He’d be home for dinner tomorrow, once again. You had hated these business trips, once upon a time, though they had rarely come this close together.

Now, a little voice in the back of your head whispered that it wasn’t business he was leaving to do. Maybe he was actually going to see her, his other woman. It made you feel better about the fact that you had hoped to see him, your other man, while he was gone. 

That was presumptuous, to think of Alastor in any way that gave you ownership of him. You were married to another and there was no commitment between you. All there was between you was that unspoken thing and the kiss. Or was it kisses? Where did one kiss begin and the other end in such a situation?

Thinking about Alastor kept you from thinking about the feeling of Laurence’s hands on you. He chased away the thoughts of the pain in your core. It wasn’t as bad last night as it had been in the past, but you still ached in the aftermath. 

You simply had to lay down and let him have his way with you. Your body was for your husband’s pleasure. It was a sin to deny him, to resist. You were a weak woman and sometimes you failed to submit to him, to allow him to take from your body. 

It was better when you submitted, letting the tears slip down your face as he moved above you instead of fighting him. You knew it was your wifely duty. He had to do it if you were to have children, but you never could find yourself comfortable with the feelings of him against you, on you, in you. Even when he wasn’t hurting you, the idea of him touching you in the way a man touches a wife made your stomach roll. 

At least with Alastor, you didn’t have to be subjected to that. Alastor wasn’t your husband. He didn’t seek to sin with you. There was no danger with him. He would never hurt you. 

It was just after lunch when the knock came at the back door, a soft tap that you had been listening for all morning to hear. He waited on the back step, neatly dressed, smile growing all the wider as you opened the door. The sight of him had your heart leaping into your throat. 

“I was hoping to collect the lady of the house for a lovely evening, if she would be agreeable?” Alastor bowed at the waist as he spoke, offering you the utmost respect as a suitor would when asking to court a lady of standing. 

“She is,” you said, smile bright and a giggle slipping free from your lips as you gave him your hand. He made you feel young again. With Alastor, you felt the hope and giddy joy over the attentions of a handsome young man. By marrying so young, you had missed out on the magic and butterflies that were courting. “Should I grab the cape and hat?” 

“It’s not needed today,” Alastor said, tugging you through the door and onto the step with him. “It’s a simple evening in. Unless you would prefer a night out?” 

“An evening in sounds wonderful,” you said, face hot with the implications. If he was taking you for an evening in, would he spirit you away, back to his home? 

“Lovely,” he said, voice dropping the accent he wore for the single word. 

Your heart beat in your chest as you walked hand in hand through the yard as that single naked word ran circles through your mind. It was risky, walking hand in hand through the backyard like you were. There was a chance, ever so slight, that a neighbor could look over into your yard from one of their upper floors and see the two of you. It wasn’t enough of a risk to cause you to pull your hand from his. 

He had made it just past the apple tree before he turned on you, looming over you as you stood trapped between him and the tree, held in place by nothing but his eyes. 

“Would it be too forward for me to tell you I missed you?” Alastor spoke softly, his natural speech pattern slipping out at moments. “Or how delighted I was to find a response from you so soon?” 

“I missed you too,” you braved saying as his free hand reached up, tracing your jaw as he stepped closer. “Are you going to kiss me again?” you whispered timidly, afraid that you’d ruin the moment. 

“Would you like me to?” You could feel his breath wash over you with each word he spoke. 

Words failed you, locked in your throat as you nodded ever so slightly. It was selfish. It was risky. It was too close to home, but none of that stopped you from melting into his touch as he leaned in, closing this distance between you. His lips touched yours, soft caresses as he lightly kissed you. 

You sighed into the kiss as the contact between your lips became firmer as you leaned into him. How could a kiss feel so good? How could the touch of another’s lips on yours feel so different from what you had known? What else could feel better than you had known?

“We should get going,” Alastor whispered, voice rich, deep and naked before he cleared his throat and spoke again with, accent once again perfectly in place. “We don’t want to be seen.” 

Fresh nerves danced under your skin as you sat in the car, the world passing by as Alastor navigated down streets you had seen before. What a strange thought, that the way to Alastor’s home would become familiar to you. The nerves bunching in your stomach didn’t stop the easy conversation between you as Alastor asked your opinions on foods and different lunch options. 

Was it terrible that as you closed your eyes and relaxed into the seat, you imagined he was your husband? Was it wrong to imagine there was nothing horrible about this thing you two were doing? Was it horrible that you pretended it was your shared home you were on your way to? Perhaps it was, but that did nothing to stop the small smile from creeping up your lips as those thoughts ran circles through your mind. 

“You alright, darling?” Alastor asked, looking over to see the peaceful smile pulled across your lips.

“I am,” you whispered, eyes opening slowly to look at him. “Thank you.”

Alastor chuckled as he turned down the road you now knew lead to his home, tucked away from the city. Private. Alone. “Whatever for? I’ve not don’e anything yet.” 

“For bringing me out,” you said, eyes bouncing between him and the house, drawing closer. “And for passing the time with me.” 

“I’m just doing what I want to do,” Alastor shrugged as he parked the car, treating the statement as if it was nothing. For you, it was everything. He wanted to spend time with you, getting nothing but your time in return. 

He was out of his seat and around the car, opening your door for you before you opened it yourself. Ever the perfect gentleman, he held his hand out for you and waited for you to take it before stepping back and giving you room to exit the car. 

Without the rain and fog, you could see more of the area around Alastor’s home. Your eyes roamed the landscape, realizing how close to the swampy bayou you were for the first time. Tall trees reached toward the sky and swampy grass in the distance gave way to shorter wild grasses. It was a far cry from the neat and manicured properties found within the city. 

“Something on your mind?” Alastor asked as he slowly led you to the porch. 

“I like it out here,” you said after a moment of thought. 

“Do you, now?” You loved the softness in his face as he led you to the door. 

“I do. It’s peaceful out here.” 

The door opened with a soft click that felt somehow just as peaceful as the land around Alastor’s home. The afternoon sun illuminated the front room, bathing it in a warm light that made the space more inviting, not that it hadn’t been when you had first been here. Just inside the door, Alastor toed off his shoes again and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“What?” The single worded question came out naked of the accent he wore so much of the time and made him all the harder to resist. 

“You had said it was because of the rain.” You hid your giggles behind your hand as he stood tall in his socks, a few stray threads of fuzz giving away thier well worn state.

The giggles died as he stepped closer to where you had leaned against a bookshelf, having intended to support yourself with it while you unbuckled your simple heels. Instead, you could do nothing as Alastor invaded your space, your mind struggling to put thoughts in order as you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

Now that you’ve crossed the line, that you’ve kissed him not once but twice, you struggled to know what the rules of your friendship were, what you could expect. It wasn’t a friendship; you reminded yourself. This was a tender flame of love and desire, an affair. 

He leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before sinking to his knee in front of you. Your heart beat loud in your ears as his fingers easily worked the buckles free. Feather light touches of his fingers ghosted over your ankle as he worked.

He reverently lifted your foot, slipping your shoe off your foot with a quiet intensity the action had no business holding. After removing your shoe, he set it neatly by the wall, tucked right next to his. 

You watched, eyes wide, as he repeated the action with the other foot. 

Alastor’s attention left your foot as he guided it to the floor. His neck angled as he looked up at you. Your eyes met his as he took in the sight of you standing barefoot in his home. Your face was flushed as your fingertips rested against your lips as if they could steady your shaky breaths. 

Oh, what a sight you made! 

The pride that swirled in his stomach over the fact that he was responsible for the pretty look on your face. He was the reason you were flushed. It was his fault there was that soft affection in your eyes. 

“Did I overstep?” he asked as he rose to his feet again, sure he did not but offering you the chance to protest just the same. He needed you to want his touch, to want his time as much as he wanted to give it. It was a need he couldn’t begin to understand but a need just the same. 

More so, he needed you to be aware of your need.

“No, I…” You were not sure what to say exactly as Alastor took your hand in his. It was large and warm, the grip strong as he wrapped his fingers around yours. 

“You?” he asked as he led you through the living space and into his small, simple kitchen. You tried to gather your thoughts with each timid step you took. “Talk to me. There is nothing if we cannot talk to eachother.” 

“And if we do?” you asked, voice so soft you were sure he didn’t hear the question you dared to ask. “What is there if we do?”

“And if we do, it’s everything,” he said confidently, though you didn’t know what exactly that meant. “So tell me, my dear, what is on your mind, no matter how trivial?” 

“Why do you keep doing that?” 

“Doing what?” Alastor spoke with his back to you, picking up a few splintered logs into the stove in his small kitchen. They caught quickly, landing on the bed of coals that had been sitting hot and waiting for more fuel. The kitchen was small and cramped but reminded you so much of the kitchen you had grown up in. “I figured we’d make something simple.” 

“Kissing me?” You finally spat the question out. 

Alastor looked over at you, eyebrow raised as he scooped rice out of a bin. “Because I only have so much time to do so. Would you like me to stop?”

“No!” you answered too quickly, slapping your hands over your lips as if you could shove the word back into your mouth. 

“Wonderful!” Alastor all but cheered as he grabbed a few peppers from a basket. 

“I’m just not used to it, is all.” Your words came hesitantly as you opened the icebox, needing to look anywhere but at Alastor. 

There were packages wrapped in butcher’s paper sitting on the shelf, unmarked but neatly stored. You grabbed the first one and unwrapped it, peeling the paper back from the meat carefully, not wanting to touch the meat itself. The slab of meat was not something you recognized, though it looked somewhat like pork. While you didn’t know what the meat was, you knew it was not sausage. 

“This one, darling.” Alastor came behind you, plucking the package from your hand and re-wrapping it after pointing to a package tucked close to the side. “That’s for tomorrow’s roast.” 

“What is it?” you asked as you pulled out the package of sausages. 

“I figured you’d be far accustomed to little kisses,” Alastor said, instead of answering your question. He worked while chatting, rinsing rice, then put the pot on the stove. The heavy lid clattered loudly as he set it atop the pot. “Does he not kiss you?” 

“Not like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched Alastor set to work cutting an onion. Joining him at his side, you sliced the sausage into bite size bits to match. 

“Like what?” Alastor hummed as he worked, arm brushing against yours as he dumped the vegetables into the bowl sitting on the back of the small workspace. 

“Pleasantly?” You answered after a moment, unsure what the correct words to explain something that felt so private within your marriage were. “Softly?” 

“My dear?” Alastor asked softly, scooping sausage into the bowl as you finished cutting it. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean to tell me you no longer enjoy it when he kisses you?” 

His eyes were locked on you as you pulled your lip between your teeth. Talk. Tell eachother things. He said that was what made the things between you what it was… whatever it was. 

“I never did,” you whispered, tears gathering in your eyes as you confessed your secrets. “I didn’t know it could feel good.” 

“You didn’t know?” Alastor chuckled at you before realizing you were serious. “Darling?” 

You watched as Alastor put a pan on the stove to heat, pouring a dash of oil in before turning for the bowl. He poured the contents and a selection of seasonings into the pan and quickly set to stirring the contents. Rich aromas quickly poured into the kitchen.

Alastor had to ask his question a second time to get you to answer. 

“No,” you finally said. 

“Forgive me for prying,” Alastor said carefully as he watched you. “But have you ever enjoyed your marriage?” 

“No.” You looked away from him as you answered. He focused his attention on the tasks at hand, putting the pot of rice on a trivet. He hummed as he returned to the stove to continue stirring the pan. “It’s not a wife’s duty to enjoy marriage, her joy comes from motherhood.”

It was the same thing you had been told all your life by your mother. It was something you had believed whole-heartedly. 

“What about courting?” Alastor asked as he pulled the pan from the stove. “Did you at least get to enjoy your courting?”

He didn’t want you to have. It would have pleased Alastor to know that you had found every moment with Laurence torturous. He wanted to be the first touch you enjoyed, the first man who’s hand you wanted to reach out for. It would please him to know you had never wanted another before him. 

“No, I-” You sighed as you grabbed two bowls out of the cabinet and set them next to the pans. You continued speaking as Alastor grabbed the wine glasses. “Courting was quick. My parents arranged it and I hardly knew Laurence before we… you know.” 

Alastor was quiet as he dished food up. It felt strange and domestic and you wanted it to be your life so much. It hurt that it wasn’t. Every time you realized this could never be yours was physically painful. 

Alastor poured wine and let the topic of conversation return to lighter things, resisting the urge to pry deeper. You had given him enough, for now, to allow him to suspect things were just as he wished. He didn’t want to risk pushing more and having that illusion shattered. 

Jokes and witty remarks filled the space. Each laugh and smile soothed nerves that had been feeling rather raw in the prior conversation. Slowly, you fell back into the relaxed ease that came with being with Alastor. 

You didn’t know what it was you were doing with Alastor, not exactly. You knew you cared for him deeply, and thought maybe he cared for you deeply. As the first glass of wine became the second and he spun you around his living room, cast in the warm glow of the setting sun and gas lights, you were more and more sure that he felt the same. 

You should get going, you knew that. It was getting late and staying later would look bad. But you wanted to. Each sip of wine had you longing for the sound of his laugh and the way his hands ran over you as he spun you around the floor. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Are you having a good night in, ma cherie?” Alastor leaned down and whispered in your ear as he caught you in his arms again, though he had no reason to whisper. 

“I am, yes.” You laughed, “I have the best times with you,” you confessed before you thought twice. 

“Good,” Alastor said, nose running up the side of your neck, coming so close to kissing it. Panic flashed to life in you as you squeaked away from him. “Is something wrong?” 

“I just-” Your face felt far too hot as you looked everywhere but at Alastor.

“Talk freely, my dear.” His voice was naked again, arms still wrapped around your waist. He had to allow some distance between your back and his chest so that he could look at you better. “Remember? What is it? If I overstep, darling, you need to tell me. I’ve never done this before.” 

You chuckled, the sound felt dry in your throat. “I’ve never been a part of… of an affair, either.” 

Alastor’s thumb ran along your jaw, “That too,” He chuckled, “But I meant, care. Felt this way. Wanted this. Wanted to do these things.” 

“I don’t-” Alastor spun you around the floor of his small living room. 

“I’m not inexperienced in anything but care. I care for you, deeply. Because I care for you deeply, I never wish to hurt you.”

“How does that work?” You asked, head tilted. The wine had made it easier to talk, to be open, but you hadn’t drunk enough to keep your mind from overthinking things. 

“I love you,” he said simply, as if the simple confession did not send a bolt of lightning down your spine. “And so I do not wish to cause you pain. It’s just that simple.” 

“Love is just pain, isn’t it?” you asked as you returned to the security of his arms. 

“No, I think not.” Alastor hummed a few beats of the music before continuing. “Often marriage is but love? Love is pleasure.” 

“Is that what I taste when you kiss me?” You knew what you felt for him but dared not say it, not when you struggled to wrap your mind around the idea that you could have love without pain. Loving Alastor was painful. It was the stabbing knowledge of the fact that he wasn’t yours and the fact that if he was yours, he would hurt you. “Is that what I feel when you touch me? Your- your love for me?” 

“Let me show you, Cher, how love can feel.” Alastor knew he was likely bending the truth. He didn’t know if it felt different for you when he kissed you than it had when he had kissed any of the other women he’d passed his time with. 

What he knew was it felt different for him. It was something he desired to do, that he had time and time again caught himself longing to do, instead pressing his lips to your hair as he got a grip on himself. He knew now what that feeling women were chasing when they clung to his coattails and fluttered their eyelashes at him. 

“I don’t,” you stumbled over your words as he danced you toward the couch tucked against the wall below the stairs. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Alastor sat down on the couch, pulling you near him “Do you trust me?” He asked as he held your hand, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. 

You hesitated as you looked down at him. This thing between the two of you was terrifying. It terrified you that it was turning more physical. You didn’t want to deny Alastor, but that was also not a pain you wanted to associate with him. The Alastor in your mind had nothing to do with the pain of the intimacy between men and women. 

“Trust me,” Alastor urged instead of asking again. You wanted to trust him. Alastor had never hurt you before. 

When you nodded, Alastor spread his legs wide, scooting back on the couch. You couldn’t fight the heat that rose in your face as he tugged you to him. 

“Sit,” he said, voice unadulterated and deep. 

You did, sitting stiffly, trying to ignore the way his legs felt pressing against your hips and the warmth of his crotch behind you. His hands brushed up your arms as his breath washed over your neck. A large hand snaked around your waist, pulling your back against his hard chest, causing you to let out a squeak. 

“Relax,” Alastor murmured, voice coming softly against your ear. “If you want me to stop, tell me. I won’t hurt you. I won’t force you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, not really knowing what was going to happen. 

How you were sitting was improper. You had sat in Laurence’s lap more than once, never by your own choice, but your heart had never beat as hard as it did now. Never did you gasp the way you did when Alastor’s lips touched your neck, just where your collar gave way to skin. 

He placed soft, small kisses along the skin as he worked his way up your neck. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from tilting your head to the side, giving him more room for his trail of fire. 

“Does that feel good?” Alastor asked in a husky whisper. You whimpered your agreement as his hand reached up, snagging your jaw and twisting so that you could meet him as he leaned around your shoulder. “Better than when he does it?” 

“Yes,” you admitted, “I didn’t know it could feel good.” You struggled to form a thought as his lips kissed along your jaw before finding your mouth. 

“It can feel good to be touched,” Alastor whispered, hand wrapping around the hand you had placed on his chest to brace yourself with. “It should only feel good. Let me show you?” 

You whimpered his name, torn between kissing him again and fleeing. It was so much, so fast. The world was spinning as you sat, wrapped up in his arms, twisted between his legs. 

“A taste?” Alastor offered. “Let me show you a taste of what he’s depriving you of.” 

“I don’t understand.”

Alastor chuckled softly as he shifted, leaning back against the arm of the couch and draping a leg across the cushions, pulling you against him. You didn’t know what to do with your hands or your body as he held you. Never had you lain with a man that was not your husband. 

“Lean against me, Cher and trust me.” He ran his hand up and down your side and your arms. “Remember, you can tell me to stop.” 

“Okay,” your voice trembled as much as the rest of you as he pulled your skirt to bunch around your thighs. 

Alastor’s other hand pulled your jaw up and back so that he could kiss you again. He shifted, rising on his side some, pinning you between him and the back of the couch to a degree. He kissed you with a hunger that you recognized and yet it made you feel hot all over in a way such a hungry kiss never had before. 

His lips matched yours, working with you, pushing and pulling. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dissolving into the kiss as fire caressed your body. Gripping your ribs, firmly but not painfully, his thumb caressed the side of your breast, earning a gasp from you. 

His lips parted to swallow that sound, his tongue darting out to taste you. It was a feeling you had never thought could be so intoxicating. Your mind swirled with the thoughts of what else could feel so different if Alastor did it. Fear lingered in the back of your mind that not everything would feel different. 

“I’m scared,” you whispered into the kiss.

“I will do nothing that will hurt you.” Alastor assured, kissing along your jaw as he ran his hand down your side, grabbing at your skirt and pulling it higher. “I’m going to make you feel good, that’s all,” he said as he took your earlobe between his lips. “You can trust me with that, right?”

“Okay,” you gasped as his fingers caressed your bare thigh, skin that none had touched other than you and your husband in so many years. 

Grabbing your leg, he pulled it up and hooked it over his knee, pinning it between his leg and the couch. You clutched his arm, one hand resting against his chest as you laid more on your back against him. Hot breath caressed your neck as he kissed the exposed skin while he held you tightly to him. 

His thumb brushed against your panties as he caressed higher. A squeak of embarrassment spilled from your lips before you could muffle it. 

“That’s alright,” he whispered, kissing your neck just below your ear. “It’s new and you’re shy. It feels good though, doesn’t it? My hand here?” 

“Yes, Alastor,” you whimpered. 

“Is that how you answer him?” he asked, voice hard in your ear. 

“I- yes.” 

“You don’t have to answer me like that.” His lips moved against your ear, pinching softly with each word they formed. “I’m not him. I’m not goin to hurt you.” 

“Oh,” you gasped as his hand gripped your hip, under your skirt before smoothing over the soft simple fabric of your panties, feeling the curve of your mound before running his hand down, between your legs and to the place that God had given women to share only with their husbands. 

“You feeling good?” he whispered between kisses.

You gasped as his fingers ran along your clothed slit, caressing over your hidden opening in a way that felt so foreign. It felt like your body was going to overheat as his hand ran up and down your core. 

“Can I feel you?” he asked as his hand ran up your core again, over your mound. His fingers caressed the edge of your panties. “Will you let me?” 

“Will it hurt?” you whimpered, longing for the way he had caressed you and yet terrified of the desire. 

“Was that painful?” he asked instead. 

“No,” you admitted. “Felt nice.” 

You gasped Alastor’s name as his hand slipped under your panties. They felt wet as he peeled them from your heated flesh. It made no sense to you. You’d not laid with Laurence recently enough for him to be spilling from you and you were not bleeding this time of month. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Alastor murmured in approval, fingers sliding along your slick folds. 

“I don’t-” you gasped as his fingers caressed the nub at the head of your folds, unleashing a pleasure you hadn’t felt before. It was wrong to touch yourself and so you had hardly touched yourself, only quickly for cleaning. You did not know that it could provide these feelings to be touched. 

“This is how it should be,” Alastor said, fingers working over you as he catalogued every gasping breath. “Have you truly never felt this?” 

“No, I-” You tried to squirm away as he ran his fingers over your clit again and gain, “Too much,” you pleased.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he pulled his fingers from your folds, letting them rest against your mound. 

“No,” you gasped, body instantly craving the feeling of his touch. “Too much.” You said even as you tried to close your legs to get some friction somehow. 

“Do you want more?” Alastor asked, and you nodded, timidly.

His fingers slipped down along the trail of slick he had left, caressing down your slit as the pad of his finger caressed your opening. This was not for tonight, though he was confident that you would enjoy that as well. It was best to start small. His poor dear may as well be virginal for all the care and attention Laurence had provided you. 

He worked your body until your chest was heaving, a pressure building as he whispered praises and sweet words in your ear. How honored was he to give you your first orgasm, though you didn’t know what that meant until the waves crashed over you. 

When you came undone in his arms, you were ill prepared for the feeling. You twitched and shifted in his arms as the unfamiliar feeling washed over you, sending your muscles clenching and releasing as you cried out. His fingers slowed to a stop as your body relaxed, lessening the stimulation as you were left gasping against his chest. 

“What happened?” you asked, blinking your eyes as you tried to bring the room into focus. 

“You came,” Alastor said simply. “I’m honored to have been the first to bring you to completion.” 

“I thought,” heat rose in your cheeks though you struggled to feel shame in the afterglow of what happened. 

“That it was reserved for men?” Alastor chucked as he tugged your skirt down. “Hardly. A man who cares will see to it his lover sees her completion before he takes his own.” 

“That happened because you- you love me?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him as you knelt between his spread legs. 

“It happened because I know how to touch a woman,” Alastor admitted, cradling your face in the hand he had left clean of your juices. “But I did it for you because I care.” 

“Alastor, I-” You wanted to ask him why your husband never did that for you. Alastor acted as if it was normal for your body to make itself so, how did he call it, wet, but that had never happened before. Your body failed to respond that way to Laurence’s touches. 

You didn’t get to finish your question as Alastor leaned forward and kissed you softly. “That’s all for now, darling. I won’t ask for any more from you tonight.” 

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