#mcd x reader

Hes back at your shared room within the hour.

Your immeaditly just like 'S I r. What are you doing back here???'

But is it any suprise when he sits at the side of your bed with a cold damp cloth and tenderly wipes the sweat from your feverish form before placing it across your forehead.

All while assuring you in a whisper, he could *never* have left you alone miserable and in pain, that he only left long enough to give instruction to his second in command to ensure Pheonix drop could run easily until you feel well.

.....

Andalsotogetadvicefromdonnaresidentnursecoughcough

Garroth is gentlemen through and through and takes very good care of you.

He will NOT kiss or cuddle with you tho when your sick, major red flag of him (jk)

Due to his royal upbringing he wasn't exposed to illness a ton as a kid so, his immune system?? Shit. If what you have is airborne he will be bedbound twice as long as you lol.

Please don't pout or bed though he is a WEAK man and you will see him going through all 7 stages of grief in record time every single time.

If you reach out for him in bed and your voice break a little with just a tiny 'please..' he nearly bursts into tears about it.

When you wear down his incredibly weak resolve he will start sleeping in a chair next to your bed holding your hand.

As if that's any better for his health, the loser lmfao.

Point is 9/10. Love him.

Oh Laurance, Laurance...

The moment you start coughing, he looks over with a raised eyebrow and asks if you feel alright

And obviously, you brush him off because come on, laurance, it's just a little coughing. I probably need water or something.

Yeah, the next day you're in coughing fits so bad, curled over, and you feel like your ribs may crack.

Laurance is ushering you back to bed. And albeit playfully, scolding you for even TRYING to go about your business in this state. I mean no offense obviously your the most breathtaking person he's ever seen but you look horrible.

Laurance doesn't even entertain the idea of leaving. Poor Garroth (or if this is while he's a head of Metelli his second hand) has to storm into the house demanding to know if everything's okay and why he's shirked duties.

Laurance just looks over and very casually is like ' oh yeah I'm going to be out for a while something more important has come up, you understand keep it covered only get me if it's a real emergency thanks'

And you don't have a choice here, now he's not going to straight up neglect his duties he loves you but he's also very serious about his guard work. But Metelli has a excess of guards and he's not the head at Pheonix drop, he knows Garroth can handle it without him for a while. So there's no need for you to feel guilty.

Just lay back and let him take care of you love <3 yeah?

He will cuddle and smooch you even while your sick, the cuddling is obvious but you will have to ask for a kiss anywhere more than the forehead.

He also takes your temperature by pressing his lips to your forehead every time

The tease, single handedly rasing your temperature

He's also the best cook so.... you are eating WELL fresh and from scratch.

10/10 but do we expect anything less

Oh yeah also even before he became a shadowknight and therefore couldn't get mortal sicknesses cause his body runs to hot for most viruses to survive. He just as a guy had a STUPIDLY great immune system. So he just doesn't get sick no matter how I'll you are and it's kind of infuriating.

Okay party people, this one... it depends. lmfaooo

Your request was specfically for being *sick* so I can only assume that means have a virus or infection of some kind, a bug if you will.

Which is VERY different from like.. recovering from a injury or like... morning sickness or something.

Which i will write if people want it but anyway.

Sorry Pookies he's not going to be personally there holding your hand or feeding you soup.

Germs and sickness freak him out and he wants nothing to do with it at all. He won't even sleep or hang in the same ROOM as you.

He arranges for only the best care though. And OH Irene help and preserve that entire staff team if he hears the staff are treating you in anyway he deems... unfit.

You'll have a full new staff within half an hour

All MUCH to afraid to treat you in a way that didn't reflect divine reverence.

Yeah... Zanes is rather short because he's pretty absent.

He makes sure to get reports on how you are frequently.

But once you're better, you can expect a lavish gift

Also, he's more likely to end work early and go to sleep the same time you do when your better.

He won't admit it but he missed your warmth beside him.

Oh Travis my sweet boy!! Welcome to being included in the fics mwah.

This might be controversial (I hope not, tho)

Travis would be the best in this regard.

He has a freaky 6th sense for knowing three days before you get sick, that your *gonna* get sick.

Like your feeling just fine and you look over and he's running around and already prepping for you to be sick.

Reading books on it, making medicine, meal planning etc. Etc.

Oh yeah I MEANT making medicine, mfer goes out and forager for his remedies to any and all ailments.

He takes top notch care of you. Diagnoses you easily, lays you to rest, spoon feeds you, lightly wipes your sweat away, supports you through enough exercise to keep your strength and whispers encouragement.

My advice... don't ask how he knows to do this.

Even through fever its heartbreaking to hear him explain how he had to care for not only himself but... when she was alive... his mother.

All alone on that mountain... everytime he got sick he had no one to brush his hair... clean his sick... make his meals.

In order to survive that... you have to learn to figure it out...get ahead of it prepare what you need so you don't have to scavenge through it.

He will NEVER let you go through that alone. Not while he lives.

Well hello and welcome to the club Aaron

well, my version of you anyway.

Aaron is a good man, but he's also a very focused and fleeting man.

What does that mean? Oh just that he is not sticking by your side unless you are actively journeying with him on his quest for revenge.

Even if he cares deeply for you, your already in.... well... honestly i hate to use this term for medieval fantasy but its more a situation ship then a relationship. He has.. a VERY hard time handling the idea of being with someone else after his wife.

If you fall ill at a village, perhaps your the lord.. something is tying you where you are.

Your not going to see alot of Aaron im so sorry pookie.

When you don't show up where he normally sees you he will pop up.

He went to ask what happened but... he can tell just from looking at you . If your asleep, he watches for a moment... taking in your gaunt state and letting it sink into himself that your still breathing and then he leaves.

You'll wake up to a little vial of medication on your bedside.

How often you see Aaron after that depends on what he was doing there, he's not putting his plans on hold for you.

If hes able to stay in the village and investigate he will. Checking in on you occasionally and bringing you medicine.

But...if he needs to leave to pursue Zane.... He will leave you Medicine and a note telling you to stay safe.. don't look for him... He will try to come back to you but... if its over a year don't wait for him.

Yeah Aaron totally what a sick person wants to read.

For him though....leaving a note is a big deal. Anyone else he would have just vanished.

Now! However! if you are actively travelling with him for any reason, he can NOT just stomach leaving you while your sick.

SO he does stop.. works on setting up a more long term camp. Reinforces the tent, sets up a fire pit, and makes a Cooking spit.

He takes care of you.. kind of, he thinks you should have some layer of independence even when your sick so he will still have you do some tasks on your own.

For him its very a 'just in case, you need to capable. What if next time i'm not here?'

Jeffory Golden Heart What a sweetheart.

He won't find out you're sick till about midday.

When Abby's teacher shows up to his Patrol to tell him that you never showed up to pick her up from school.

Which instantly worries Jeffory because that's very unlike you, if you weren't able to pick up Abby for some reason you would tell him even with his early hours.. A note or at dinner before.

He has to hold back at jumping to any conclusions, hoisting up Abby on to his shoulders and heading back to your shared home while chatting about her day to keep her at ease.

He has a million thoughts in his mind working with Zane...its hard not to he finds himself hoping that you had a lapse in memory, that this was going to end with him mildly annoyed over anything else.

But he arrives to your Home and when he calls out your name he hears just a pitiful little croak he S P R I N T S through the house to your bedroom where, he doesn't see some horrible crime scene but you in bed, flushed and clearly miserable and he just feels all his muscles relax.

Jeffory is so sweet, but he can't care for you as much as he wants to with Jury of nine duty and caring for Abby, but he still makes sure when he's not on duty your getting his attention, his poor sick little dove he makes soup, washes and brushes your hair, and brings in the best doctor O'khasis has and once your cleared as non contagious he pulls Abby into the tasks so you can have even more care.

Help making the soup, help braiding your hair, and reading stories at your side.

Yet, all he could speak of was your name. All he could ask for is to feel your presence; your warmth. “Does she–” 

“No. At least, not the extent of it, but we sent word to Meteli.” Aphmau answers, moving to sit at his side for some form of comfort. “She’ll be here soon, I promise.” 

His chest inflates, releasing the air he was holding captive at the mention of his lover. Laurance wasn’t sure how happy he should be, knowing seeing him in such a state would only upset you, but he was far too selfish to dwell on it. 

“Thank you.” These were the last words spoken to Aphmau before he dozed off, exhausted. His body was working overtime to heal itself, using every bit of energy it had.

On the same day you received word about Laurance, you arrived in Phoenix drop within record timing. It had been more than a week since you last saw your lover, you refused for another day to pass you by; you immediately set course to Aphmau’s village. 

You meet her at the docks, sharing a hug as you touch land. Despite the short time you come to know her, a connection was established as she spent her time and resources attempting to bring Laurance home from the Nether. “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow. Are you okay?” Aphmau worries, seeing the lack of sleep in your eyes. 

“Please forgive me for the lack of notice, I wanted to get here as soon as possible.” Your apology is shot down, Aphmau reassuring you it’s understandable considering the circumstances. 

“You’re always welcome here.” She says, before beckoning you to follow her. On the path to her home, which was noticeably close by, Aphmau catches you up on the details she saw fit to share with you, saving the rest for Zoey to explain. 

You listen with a heavy heart as Aphmau reveals it was Ungrth, Laurance’s bonded Wyvern, who saved him from the Nether. Even as the corruption took over his body, he protected him till the last second. May Irene watch over his soul.

“And what of Laurance? How is he faring?” You dare to ask, realizing Aphmau has yet to speak of Laurance current condition. Her eyes darted to the home standing before, almost as if she were avoiding eye contact with you. 

“Let’s talk more inside. You must be exhausted from traveling here!” She opens the door to her home, beckoning you inside where a woman awaits for you.

“This is Zoey, she’s in charge of Laurance’s recovery.” Aphmau introduces her–a youthful elf with astounding beauty you can only read about in fantasy novels. 

“I wish we had met on better terms, but I would like to speak with you before you head down to see him.” Zoey says, your heart stuttering at her words.

All you could manage was a weak nod, unsure if you could trust yourself to speak without choking on your words. 

“Firstly, I’d like to make it known that Laurance is stable and is recovering well. But it’s important to keep in mind the extent of his injuries; it’ll take some time to fully heal.” 

A shaky breath leaves past your lips, the weight on your shoulders lifting ever the slightest. He’s recovering. He’s doing okay. “. . . But?” You question the open ending in her statement. 

Zoey presses her lips together, sympathy forming before your eyes. “When Laurance escaped the Nether, he transcended realm barriers and did so without a form of ritual. . . I”m afraid there were some repercussions.” 

You stand before the door to Laurance's temporary room, yet to make a move when all your head was swimming with was Zoey's words. "I'm afraid there were some repercussions."

Again, your throat tightens, tears threatening to fall once more. You need to get yourself together before going inside, it’s the least you can do. Laurance has always taken care of you, putting himself to the side more than he should.

It’s his turn to be cared for. To be loved on; pampered. You can’t do that if you’re crying, so for Irene’s sake, get yourself together. 

The door’s open, revealing the man you’ve yearned to see, and a calm settles around you–miraculously. Every worry you had dissipated from within your mind at the sight of him, handsome as ever. 

He’s within reach now, you can see how peaceful he rests; Laurance hardly looks like he’s in pain while he sleeps. It makes you feel evil for wanting to wake him up, but you need to hear his voice. You need to hear it directly from Laurance that he’s okay. 

You can wait. 

With a careful hand, you reached for his long hair: it’s matted and the color’s dull. Laurance holds pride in his beautiful hair, he wouldn’t dare to be seen with such unkempt hair. 

You breathe a huff of amusement at this, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger, when a hand grabs hold of yours– making your heart jump into your throat. It swells in size as Laurance pulls you in, placing a scorching kiss on your wrist’s pulse point as he drenches your name in honey. 

Not even five minutes in and he already has you weak in the knees, stupidly fumbling over your words as you searched for something to say. “How’d you know it was me?” 

Laurance smiles, as if he has no acknowledgment of what he does to you, he says, “Our hearts are intertwined with one another, I’ll always know it’s you.” 

“Laurance?” 

“Yes, Lover?”

“I’m going to kiss you silly.”

You’re just about to burst at the seams as his melodious laughter filled the room, his smile so wonderfully him, it had you reeling at the verge of insanity. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Come here.” He beckons you closer. 

Carefully, you lean over him, keeping your hands limited to above his neck (to not press into a sore, painful spot). The moment your lips locked with his, every mystery in the world made sense to you. Everything you once lied awake worrying about ceased to exist. 

No more sleepless nights worrying if he was alive or not. No more wondering if you’ll ever see him again. He’s home, your Laurance; your lover. He’s here and he’s okay.  

Laurance huffs in between kisses as your lips begin to wander from his lips, traveling all around his face within seconds of each other. He speaks your name between laughter, your kiss reaching a particular ticklish spot on his neck that left goosebumps in its wake. 

“One more.” You say, but it definitely wasn’t the last and neither was the next one. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy you’re here,” Another kiss, “and you’re going to be okay,” sealed with yet another kiss, “and I’m going to take care of you.” 

“You really know how to get a man going, don’t you, Lover?”

Your face heats up at his words, you’re glaring (with love and affection) at the all knowing look he has on him right now. You pause all ministrations, saying, “I think I should start with your hair. What do you think?” 

Laurance laughs, a nervous undertone to it. “That was a joke. Right?” You let the silence speak for itself. “What–What do I think? Well, I think we should start with something smaller like. . . I don’t know, just not with the hair. Let’s save that for last. Very last.” 

You laugh something short and sweet, giving him one last kiss (for real this time). “I’m just messing with you.” 

“I knew that.” 

“I’m sure you did, Lover.” 

Laurance

This man is a big fan of any nickname that gets you flustered, but he has a few particular favourites.

Love and beautiful are nicknames he uses on the regular, so much so that it occasionally makes you wonder if he even remembers your actual name. In fact, Laurance rarely uses your name - why should he, when he has a repertoire of nicknames that fit you perfectly?

Out of all the men mentioned in this post (maybe even out of all the men in MyStreet), Laurance is the frontrunner and reigning champion in making up sickeningly sweet nicknames, such as sugarcakes, buttercup, light of my life, etc.  If stringing together random words into an affectionate term was a crime, he’d be in federal prison at this point. He usually does this to get a rise out of you, especially in front of your mutual friends (who all think its equal parts funny and embarrassing), but he also just enjoys it. He thinks it’s a cute thing to do, and doesn’t really care if others find it odd or embarrassing. Why should he?

He mostly uses your actual name when calling for you or if you’re arguing, mainly to underline that he’s being serious. It’s not really a conscious decision. I like to think that it’s a habit he picked up from Cadenza when they were kids. At some point, this becomes so ingrained in your dynamic that if he, for whatever reason, calls you by your real name, you automatically start wondering if something’s wrong, and if you’re an overthinker…well that can snowball quickly.

Again, that’s not a conscious decision - hence the slip up. Once Laurance becomes aware of this, either by you telling him or him noticing (because if there is one thing this man is, it’s observant), he’ll actually start trying to alternate between using a nickname and your name more often, especially during serious conversations or arguments. Mainly because he is slightly disturbed by the idea that he accidentally had you associating your name with you two arguing.

Another nickname he uses is angel, though it’s reserved for more intimate moments when he gets really sappy. It’s accompanied by whispers of adoration, confessions of love, and reminders of how much you mean to him. He genuinely believes he’s the luckiest man alive to have you, wonderful you, as his partner. You brighten up all of his days, even those you aren’t present for, and bring out the best in him. Sounds a lot like what an angel would do, doesn’t it?

Gene

Another man who loves to make you flustered.

Babe is one he uses often, but for him it’s more a word that's interchangeable with your name, rather than a term of endearment. Still, if someone else called you that - you’d have a really annoyed Gene on your hands. Exceptions are made for people like Lucinda, who will call everyone and their mom every nickname in the book.

A nickname he absolutely loves to use is doll. He thinks it’s really cute (and these days, unique), and it almost never fails to make you blush. Especially when it's accompanied by his signature smirk and husky voice - that usually has a playful lilt to it. When you’re busy doing something, he loves to come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist and mumble a small “hey doll” into your ear - and if that’s not distracting you enough, he might press a few kisses to your cheek, slowly trailing them down to your jaw.

Another thing he does is add “my” to almost any nickname he uses - “my doll”, “my darling” or just a plain old “my girl/boy”, depending on what you’re comfortable with.

On that note, he’ll sometimes say “good girl/boy” as a response to you listening to him, mostly to get a reaction out of you. And Gene, being the little prick he can be, will deliberately stop saying it for a while if he even suspects you’re getting used to it. It’s really just an ace up his sleeve that he loves to pull whenever you don’t expect it, and your reactions entertain him endlessly.

He’ll also call you sweetheart, though not nearly as often. It’s mostly used when he’s trying to comfort you, or if he himself is having a really shitty day and just needs you nearby (preferably, in his arms).

I cannot remember if this was confirmed or not, but i HC Gene as being at least partly hispanic, so i think he might occasionally use spanish terms of endearment such as mi amor or mi cielo.

Zenix

Honestly, this guy isn’t really all that big on nicknames (unless dumbass, pain in the ass and idiot count). He has nothing against them, but you already have a name, and he likes it, so why not use it? He’s not great at thinking of good ones either, and he feels like most of them just don’t roll off the tongue that naturally. Nicknames like love, darling and dear feel especially awkward to him, and it’s only slightly because emotional vulnerability and casual proclamations of love scare the shit out of him.

Like Gene, he’ll use babe more than others, though mostly in an obnoxious way. If he wants something, or is just being whiny in general, he’ll call you that until you give him the attention he wants.

If you like nicknames, he honestly tries really hard. Most of them just feel really awkward to him, and he doesn’t really see the point until you start calling him various nicknames, and it kind of clicks in his head why people like it so much.

At some point you stop using them, thinking they make him uncomfortable, and he gets genuinely upset. He stumbles through a flustered explanation, where the bottomline is that withholding affection from him like that should be considered a crime, a description you laugh at, but take to heart. When you tell him that you simply assumed he was uncomfortable because he doesn’t call you anything in return, he grumbles about how assumptions are stupid and you should just ask him instead.

Still, Zenix knows it takes two to tango, and after that, he grows a bit more comfortable with nicknames. He tries out a bunch, but it’s mostly because he gets a kick out of your reactions. 

In private, he likes to call you sexy, mostly as a joke. There is truth to it of course, he thinks you’re extremely attractive, but the word is just really funny to him. Plus, your flushed face is one hell of a bonus. He would never dare call you that in front of others, especially not Gene and Sasha, so that’s a prime opportunity to get revenge for whatever torment he puts you through.

Honorable mention; hot stuff is another one he might use, for the same reason.

Zenix also really likes to just refer to you as “mine”. He’s possessive, moreso out of insecurity than distrust, though he does find it difficult to put his faith in anyone - especially a romantic partner, which he struggles to admit. He needs a lot of reassurance, which sometimes just comes in the form of calling you his, and with you affirming.

Unironically (well, kind of) refers to you as his partner in crime. Both in private and with others; it’s not that sweet, sure, but it’s a nice middle ground for him when calling you more affectionate names seems so daunting, especially when others can hear. It kind of becomes your thing after a while, even if one day he grows comfortable enough to express his love for you differently.

Zane

He probably grew up with his parents calling each other all kinds of classy terms of endearment like honey, darling, love, and beloved, and I feel like that kind of carries over to him. In the beginning of the relationship at least. He has other nicknames he prefers to use later on.

Beloved is the one that always sticks. It’s simple, but carries a lot of meaning - literally referring to someone or something that is “dearly loved”. And that perfectly describes how he feels about you.

Zane is not the type to use many terms of endearment in public, if any at all. Not out of shyness, he’s just a pretty private person, and while he doesn’t mind PDA, he doesn’t see the need to flaunt everything about his relationship out in the open. He views terms of endearment as a pretty intimate thing by default, and while he doesn’t mind you using them in public (it makes him smile, honestly), he prefers to keep it to a minimum.

If this bothers you, he’ll use them in front of your friends a bit more often. He doesn’t want you to think that he doesn’t love you enough to show it in front of others.

In private, on the other hand? He’s a sucker for cute nicknames like muffin or pumpkin, both of which he uses a lot. As soon as the door shuts behind you two, he’s practically forgetting your given name in favor of those two. He prefers pumpkin, not for any particular reason. It’s also the one he defaults to when you’re upset. He’ll notice quite quickly, and move you to a quiet area, offering you a hug and mumbling “what’s wrong, pumpkin?” into your hair.

He’s not rapid-firing nicknames like Laurance is, but he’s quite close in the race. It’s just a simple way for him to remind you that he cares about you, something intimate he saves just for you. His family have heard him call you sweet things before (and they definitely enjoy this softer side of him), but he tries to keep it between the two of you.

Nicknames he uses less often, and definitely in a more teasing manner, are bunny or kitty, sometimes just pet. You would not catch him dead calling you any of these in front of anyone else, not even while completely wasted, but if you’re alone and he feels like teasing you? He’s pulling out all the stops.

Pet is one he especially uses when he’s trying to convince you to do something for him. Most of the time, it’s something mundane, like taking care of yourself properly - or making him a cup of tea because he’s too lazy to get up. He knows you can’t say say no when he uses just the right tone of voice, even if you’re cursing him as you stomp off to do whatever it is he said.

“Darling…” Calloused hands cup your face to steady you, a deep resounding chuckle from the man only fueling your sleepiness. “What have I told you about leaning like that? You could get hurt, silly girl…”

Despite his chiding tone, the amused lilt to his voice and the way he gently pulls you up to sit straight again is enough to tell you he really isn’t even slightly upset with you.

“It’s your fault for treating me so gently… what else am I supposed to do?” you mumble.

“Not throw yourself to the ground, for starters.” He shakes his head at you through the vanity mirror. “And how else should I treat my wife?”

You pretend to think, humming as he continues his ministrations in brushing the final tangles from your hair. “I suppose you have a fair point.”

“Oh, you suppose.” He leans down, and a kiss is pressed against your temple. “I do not think I could treat you roughly, even if I tried.”

“You—”

“Don’t... even... suggest it.”

A giggle escapes your lips at his serious tone. This time, he did mean it, and you know it. If he treated you with any less restraint than how you’d handle a porcelain doll, he might pass away from the pure shame and horror. Every word he has spoken to you has only been gentle, and every touch has been reverent.

"I heard from Dale you were helping Molly with redecorating their home today." He changes the subject. "How did that go?"

"It was fun," you hum. "They have no need for all of the nursery decorations, and she kept offering for me to take her old furniture with me. I said I would think about it..."

He chuckles, setting the brush down on your vanity. "Well, there's certainly no need for us to turn down the offer. If that's what my beautiful wife wants, of course.. I'd have no objections to planning early."

You clear your throat, heat creeping up your neck. "Mm."

“Alright, my dearest,” he whispers, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead and holding a hand out for you to take. “All done. Let’s get to bed.”

You sigh, pouting your lips and pressing your cheek into his hand as you look up at him. “But now I’m too sleepy to move.”

“Oh no…” he feigns concern. “Whatever will we do? Will my poor wife be forever stuck to her vanity chair?”

You wrinkle your nose at his rare display of teasing, your lips wobbling. “Garroth…”

“Ah, this is all my fault for being too gentle, isn’t it?” He muses.

“It’s the routine…” you lift your arms to him, attempting to charm him with your tilted head and sleepy eyes. “You brush my hair and then carry me to bed.”

“It is my fault… my queen is so demanding of me.” Regardless of his words, he leans down, hooking his arms under your legs and back before lifting you up as if you were a simple paper weight on his desk. “It’s so difficult to not do anything you ask of me, though. Am I really to blame, too?”

You’re too content to answer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and not letting go even as he lowers you down onto the mattress. No. Instead of replying, you tug him down with you, and though he most definitely has the strength tenfold to resist you, he falls into place  beside you (and as always, he carefully shifts to not crush you with his full weight).

“Very well then…” he sighs in full relinquishment, the thick muscle of his arm slipping around your waist and pulling you over the top of him. His other hand lands against your head, ensuring you’re snug against the expanse of his chest as he intertwines his fingers into your soft, freshly brushed hair. The previous banter suddenly is lost to the both of you, and all humor and sarcasm is lost to the two of your steady heartbeats syncing into one harmonious rhythm.

“Good night, my love,” you murmur, earning a final kiss of the night to the top of your head.

A part of you almost wants to complain that it wasn’t on the lips, but sleep overpowers your wants as you offer a soft kiss to his chest in return, no longer able to fight off the weight pulling down on your eyelids. Ah, no matter if you didn’t get a kiss on the lips tonight. You’re sure to get plenty in the morning.

“Good night, my darling.”

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

… “You love me?” “I do. With everything that I am and everything I will be, I love you.” “You’ll still love me even though I chose him over you?” “I can’t blame you for that… I would’ve chosen him for you, too.” …

The first thing Laurance sees when he opens his eyes is you. Though your hair is tousled and your face is turned away from him, Laurance can’t help but stare at you in awe. While he doesn’t want to wake you up, Laurance can’t help but snake one of his arms around your waist as he pulls himself flush against your back.

Laurance can’t help but become amused when you unconsciously shift back against him. Even in your sleep you search for his warmth.

“My Love…” The boy utters the words softly against your ear, his fingers dancing across the thin fabric of your nightgown in gentle circles. “The sun has moved well past the horizon. It’s time to bid farewell to this bed of ours.”

You give a quiet hum in reply, barely turning your head in the direction of Laurance’s face. “Just a short while longer. I do not yet yearn to entertain the living.”

“And what about your husband?” The boy begins to pull at your nightwear until his fingers make contact with the skin of your lower stomach. The moment he’s able to feel your skin beneath his, the boy trails his hand right to the curves of your chest. “Might you yearn to entertain him?”

“My husband yearns to entertain himself.” Though your voice is still soft, Laurance knows he’s slowly pulling you from your slumber. “Even after years of commitment, the man still cannot control his roaming hands.”

“Must I?” The boy teases you with a kiss against your cheek. When that doesn’t rouse a reaction from you, he gently pinches you in the way he knows will make you react.

“Laurance Zvahl!” You gasp and immediately grasp your husband’s roaming hand, though notably you do not remove it.

Laurance can’t help but grin to himself as you maneuver your way into turning around. He returns your attempt at a glare with a loving and knowing smile of his own. “Yes, My Love?” He asks ever so sweetly - as if his hand were not latched onto your chest this very moment.

“Does the day so desperately require my presence that I cannot be granted a mere moment of peace?”

“No, the day does not require you so. Your husband, however, does.”

“Good Irene… What did I ever do to become stuck with a man such as you?” You breathe a quiet sigh but the smile that tugs on your lips gives your true feelings away. “So be it. How does my husband require me?”

… “I still miss him. I miss him all the time.” “I know. I miss him too.” “You don’t understand. You didn’t love him the way I did.” “You’re right, I don’t love him the way you do, but you know he wouldn’t have wanted you to live your life like this.” “I know that… it’s just-!” “Hard?” “...the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” “I know what you mean. It’s hard for me, too.” …

Laurance allows himself to be dragged all over town catering to your every beck and call. From every stall in the marketplace to the bakery on the far side of town, Laurance allows you to pick and choose whichever items tickle your fancy. The two of you don’t normally get this much time together, after all. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t spoil you.

After two long hours of walking around town, the final stop of the afternoon is the flower field located just outside of town.

Laurance watches quietly as you sit amongst a patch of star-shaped blooms. He’s always liked the feeling of the flower’s woolly white petals against his fingertips, but the small buddle of yellow florets in the center leave behind far too much pollen for his taste. Even so, the boy must admit how beautiful you look amongst them.

“Your dress will become dusted with yellow if you sit amongst the flowers for too long, my love. Come. Lest we desire a trip home in the dark, let us return home.” Says Laurance. When you don’t immediately turn to face him, the boy sets his things on the ground and kneels in front of you. “My love?”

You blink up from the flowers to meet Laurance’s gaze. “Yes?”

“I was simply suggesting we take our leave. I wouldn’t want my dear wife to grow too tired to venture home. Then again, the opportunity to carry you home isn’t an undesirable one.”

“Oh… of course.” Your detached response is only emphasized by the way your eyes drift down to the flowers scattered across the field once more. “You don’t suppose you’ll ever grow tired of me, will you?”

“Never.”

“Are you certain?”

When met with your hesitation, Laurance wants nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms and lather you with copious amounts of affection and care. Yet as your gaze drifts further away and your hand begins to pull at his coat, he restrains himself.

“My love for you may very well be the only thing I am certain of!” The boy leans forward and presses a kiss against your forehead, followed by your temple, your nose, and finally your lips. Finally, the boy whispers to you, “even when this heart of mine ceases to beat, I will continue to love you. There’s nothing in the world that could ever change that.”

“...okay.” A soft smile pulls on your lips as you place a quick peck against Laurance’s cheek. Before he can pull you to your feet, however, you make one more request of him - one last place to visit before returning home.

… “Please… please Irene, please-!” “Stop!” “I can’t! I-I musn’t! If I stop then he’ll surely- I can’t let him-” “(Y/n), stop! You have to stop.” “Why?!” “He… he’s already…” …

Laurance walks hand in hand with you through the forest. The trek isn’t silent, but he knows better than to fill the air with too much conversation in a place like this. He knows these paths by heart, though he can’t remember the last time he’s walked them with you. This forest holds too much history.

Before long, the path narrows and the foliage thickens. Lush trees twist together into a near-perfect circle - dense, unnatural, and impossible to pass through by ordinary means. Most travelers turn back or go around, but you don’t. Together, you and Laurance press deeper into the grove.

The closer you get to the center, the more hostile the forest becomes. Branches tangle, undergrowth chokes the ground, and any clear passage disappears entirely. It feels as though the forest itself is guarding something.

For anyone else it would be impenetrable, but not for you.

Hidden among the dense growth, a single flowering shrub stands weaker than the rest. With one clean swing Laurance cuts through it to reveal what lies beyond.

Your grip tightens against Laurance’s as you cross the threshold.

The air is thicker here. No, Laurance doesn’t think that’s quite right. Rather, it’s still. Waiting. Suspended in a moment of time much longer than anyone might think it to be. Even so, the ground is littered with the white flowers from before - a testament to how often the two of you have visited this place.

You and Laurance tread carefully as to not uproot any of the flowers currently in bloom. Once you’re both in the center of the cove, Laurance hands the flowers you’d picked from the field just a few hours earlier.

The boy watches as you place the flowers upon a once familiar face. “How long has it been?”

“I… I don’t know.” You admit. “I can’t remember anymore.”

“The number of years?”

“No, not the years…” Your voice slowly begins to waiver the longer you speak. “I can no longer recall the sound of his voice nor the joy of his laughter. I can’t even-!”

“I know.” Laurance grips your hand tighter in hopes that it might comfort you. In turn, you lean into Laurance. The boy wastes no time in wrapping you in his embrace before uttering a quiet, “I’m slowly forgetting his face, too.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When he was nine and losing the sight from his right eye, Zane ran into the forest to cry alone. He sat at the base of an oak tree, and when he wiped the tears from his cheeks, realized a baby sparrow had fallen from its nest up above. Suddenly, he recalled the old practices, taught to him by a nanny who didn't know better—because how could she? He told himself, as he raised his foot over its body, that it was an act of mercy. That the sparrow would not have survived the night, not with the foxes. Not with the owls. At least this way, it would die for a reason—for him.

After he wiped the blood from his shoe into the grass, Zane asked Irene to heal his eye.

(It did not work.)

When he was fourteen and found that his nanny, who had cared for him all his life, was deathly ill, Zane stole one of his father's hunting daggers and ran it through six kits in a burrow. He collected dry grass, shoved it in, and then stole a flintstone from the shore of a nearby river. He scraped it, with his knife, into the dirt, again and again and again. He watched the smoke rise past the treetops. He stood over the ash, looked into the sky, and asked Irene to keep his nanny alive.

(It did not work that time, either.)

But he is sure, as he runs his thumb over the pulse jumping in your neck, that it will work this time. Because Zane understands now, as you cradle one side of his jaw in your palm and kiss the other with your lips, that the weight of the sacrifice must match the weight of the favor.

So when he is twenty-four and learns that it is you who the dead gods want (you, who sit at his bedside when he falls ill, balancing a tray with soup and water on your thighs; you, who rub the sleep from his eyes when he falls asleep in the library and guide him to bed; you, who trace shapes into his nape and chase the nightmares away with a press of your lips to his hair; you, who he has spent the last three years of his life loving), it's not really a choice so much as an opportunity.

Yes, this should be an equal enough trade, Zane thinks as he strikes the flint into the earth. Irene could not deny him now. Sacrifice their world, and he gets to keep his.