#mydei

[soarien]

mydei

[thedemises]

imagine future argenti lore comes out and he was mydei's long lost brother and was from amphoreus /jk 🤯🤯🤯🤯

their english vas are brothers so

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

tws : sfw but suggestive, gn!reader, modern au?, kissing dilf Mydei’s wrinkles, you call mydei “daddy” once.

Your lips pressed against the deep lines carved into Mydei’s skin, the rough texture a stark contrast to the warmth beneath. He barely reacted at first, only tilting his head slightly as you kissed the creases along his tired eyes, then his sharp jaw, taking your time like he was something to be savored. He was older, a proper dilf—worn but powerful, his muscles still taut beneath your hands, his scars whispering stories of battles long past.

“Feeling sentimental, baby?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, though his fingers twitched at your touch. You hummed against his skin, nuzzling into the weathered strength of his body, tracing his wrinkles like they were something holy. Mydei let out a slow breath, half amusement, half something deeper, something unspoken, as he finally cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“Or just needy?” His smirk was sharp, but the way his thumb stroked your skin told a different story.

Your lashes fluttered as you pouted up at him, your lips still ghosting over the faint creases at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t I just like kissin’ you, daddy?” you murmured, voice syrupy sweet, fingers tracing the ridges of his toned stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

Mydei exhaled through his nose, a deep sound that vibrated through his chest. “You say that like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His voice was rough, thick with something unreadable, but the way his hand gripped your waist betrayed him. You giggled, nuzzling against him, your lips pressing against every worn part of him, every sign of age and experience that only made him more devastating.

His fingers tightened, dragging you closer until your breath hitched. “You wanna be sweet for me, baby? Then be good an’ sit still,” he murmured, his voice dripping with quiet authority. But you could feel the way his pulse had quickened, the heat rolling off his body as he finally let his lips brush against yours, slow and deliberate, like he was staking his claim.

You shivered, caught between his warmth and the commanding weight of his grip. Mydei wasn’t in a rush—he never was. He took his time, savoring the way your breath stuttered as his lips barely ghosted over yours, teasing, taunting. His thumb brushed over your cheek, then down to your chin, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Those tired, sharp eyes studied you, searching, like he was memorizing every little reaction.

“Such a needy little thing,” he murmured, almost amused. “What am I gonna do with you, hm?” His lips finally pressed fully against yours, slow but firm, stealing the breath right from your lungs. He kissed you like he owned you, like you were something fragile in his hands—but you knew better. Mydei wasn’t the type to break things easily, no matter how delicate they seemed.

Your hands curled into his shirt, desperate to keep him close, but he pulled back just enough to smirk against your lips. “Getting impatient already, baby?” His voice was deep, teasing, laced with that effortless confidence that made your stomach flip. His thumb dragged down to press lightly against your bottom lip, forcing it down, making you part your mouth for him. “Thought you liked taking your time with me.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[sviteer]

[vyyper]

a little too shy to ask this off anon but mydei with a scholarly wife hcs please 🥺🥺

Mydei with a Scholarly S/O

a/n: hi anon! i know you said wife but i just went along with the flow as i wrote and it ended up gn, i hope that's still alright! i enjoyed this request a lot :)

mostly fluff, written with the pre 3.1 setting in mind

-i think a scholarly partner is just so so perfect for mydei. he values knowledge highly and knowing that you are in constant pursuit of it makes him so happy for you!! definitely your #1 supporter.

-he'd tell you about kremnoan history and culture, if you show interest. he tries not to let it slip too much but it excites him. it's important to him that people know, that this information doesn't fade, and he'll be reassured knowing someone like you has this knowledge

-he'd love to let you use his library, read all the books within together, nothing but the pages and each other to pass the time. perhaps in a kinder life, but he's still more than content reading with you now. if he has the time, one of his favorite things to do with you is read in silence. perhaps he'll cook some warm stew, and you'll sit together, reading, occasionally sipping from your bowls in comfortable, affectionate silence.

-will let you ramble about anything and everything! he's always willing to lend an ear and try and help you out with whatever research you may be doing, as much as he can. he's definitely a good listener, quiet unless you ask for input and what input he gives is helpful and to the point. it's one of his favorite things to do, listens to you with the fondest look in his eyes, like you're the center of the universe. people whisper about the cold glare mydeimos has on his face before he strikes down and enemy, but they've never seen how mydei's eyes burn with warmth as he listens to his beloved.

-additonally, after bringing up a new subject you notice him with a book about it in his hand sometimes...wants to learn about it with you so he can supply help if you need any. and the fact that you make anything interesting to him, you make him want to learn even more than before.

-refuses to let you overwork though, don't even try you'll break his heart...his duties already keep him away from you, the last thing he'd want is for you to let your health spiral in what time he gets with you. if you're losing sleep and forgetting meals, he'll cook you a whole feast and let you rant out all your stress before dragging you to bed. he'll rub your shoulders and tell you not to do something like that again, not to worry him, hold you as you sleep. if he's away he'll reluctantly get your friends to check on him regularly. he understands the importance of privacy and trusts you can be responsible...but he does worry, and he wants to make sure.

also on the topic of him wanting to read because of you...he knows how to interpret poetry, so i think he'd read romance poems and be reminded of you, feel the emotions they describe, maybe even pick up ways to show affection towards you from them since kremnoans don't even have a word for love.

wait i have this vision of him carrying you. you joke that you're too tired to get up from where you're working at in hopes it'll sway him and he blinks before picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the couch or bed. you're too shocked to say anything. he watches your expression with a faint and teasing smile, both at your shock and at the fact that he's gotten you away from your work.

-adding onto how he likes hearing you talk, i think after a very long day or so he'll return home, slump into bed. he doesn't mean to wake you up but if he does, he'll apologize before reluctantly asking you just talk to him, about any developments in your studies or anything else you want to talk about. your voice calms him and he'll listen to you until he feels you starting to drift off, the soft pattern of your breaths in sleep calming him further.

-early on in your relationship, before you're married, he tells you one day that there is no word for love in the kremnoan language. you think you see hints of regret on his face, guilt in his tone. so you smile and tell him the word for "love" in yours. i love you.

you don't expect him to use it often, at first. although he's warmed up around you, you assume that saying such a thing must be difficult for him. but tell him how to say it and he'll repeat it everyday. "i love you," he says back after you tell him, once to test the sound on his tongue, and then again to affirm the words you . his tone is unwavering, unlike your slightly nervous one, like the words are something already deeply engraved in his mind he's just recovered. "i love you," he murmurs as you drift off, on a rare night where he gets to rest with you in his arms. "i love you," he declares, kissing your knuckles before ending his show of affection with a press lips to your ring, holding your wrist gently.

he wants you to remember it always. he'll be bound to you forever and always; he never wants to let go, and he'll be sure to remind you of it.

[freyzrc]

31. Coloured version. Phaidei lovers, enjoy! 💙🧡

[comicsbyvien]

“If there's a chance in the next life, you should come visit my library”

Timelapse: https://www.tiktok.com/@comicsbyvien/video/7486651052599577864?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc

[devdozes]

♥ Who's the cute doctor with a white jacket and a cute accent?

Phainon is a vigilante who kills heroes :0 and reader is a doctor who owns a clinic

The street was empty when you stepped out of your small clinic, stretching your arms with a yawn. The neon glow of streetlights flickered against the pavement, a steady hum of crickets filling the air. It was well past midnight, your usual closing time. The last patient had left hours ago, leaving you with only the scent of antiseptic and the ever-present exhaustion clinging to your bones.

And that was when you saw him.

Slumped against the alley wall right beside your clinic’s entrance, a man lay sprawled out, one leg bent awkwardly, his clothes torn and stained with blood. His messy silver hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and from the way his chest heaved unevenly, he was in bad shape.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, already moving toward him. “Don’t tell me I’ve got another late-night idiot with a hero complex.”

Kneeling beside him, you gently prodded his shoulder. “Hey. Still breathing?”

A soft, pitiful whine escaped him, followed by a lazy blink. Then, like a puppy realizing it had finally been noticed, the man perked up almost instantly. Despite his obviously battered state, he offered you the most ridiculous, lopsided grin you had ever seen.

“Angel,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Have I…died?”

You stared at him. He blinked up at you, expectant.

“…No, but you might if you keep bleeding all over my sidewalk.”

His grin widened, eyes gleaming under the dim light. “Then I must be in heaven, because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, exasperated sigh. “Great. You’re one of those types.”

Deciding that talking would get you nowhere, you looped his arm around your shoulders and, with a great deal of effort, hauled him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, all lean muscle beneath the torn layers of his dark hoodie.

“C’mon, Casanova, let’s get you patched up.” ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The clinic was quiet save for the rustling of medical supplies and the occasional hiss of pain from your unexpected patient. He sat on the examination table, swinging his legs slightly like a child as you cleaned a particularly nasty gash on his forearm. His hoodie had been discarded, leaving him in a black tank top that did nothing to hide the bruises blooming across his torso.

“You got into quite the fight, huh?” you mused, applying a fresh bandage.

He hummed, tilting his head. “You could say that.”

“You don’t look like the street brawling type,” you continued, noting the way his wounds were oddly precise—like someone had been targeting specific areas to incapacitate rather than kill. “Pissed off the wrong guy?”

“Something like that,” he said, watching you with an intensity that sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, without warning, he reached out and poked your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re all serious, y’know?”

You smacked his hand away. “I will sedate you.”

He laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. It was such a stark contrast to his earlier state that you had to pause. This guy…was weird. But you’d dealt with weirder.

“Alright, mystery man,” you said, stepping back. “You’re patched up, but you should probably rest before you start running around and getting into more trouble.”

His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing through his eyes. Then, just as quickly, he was beaming again. “So you do care about me, doc.”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm a doctor; if I don't care, I will lose my license.”

Little did you know, you had just invited the most dangerous, yet oddly devoted, presence into your life. And he had no plans of leaving any time soon.

It started with small things.

The next evening, Phainon showed up at your clinic’s doorstep, miraculously uninjured this time, holding a single flower in his hand. “For my angel,” he declared dramatically, offering it to you with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “You realize this is a medical clinic, not a flower shop, right?”

He pouted. Actually pouted. “Can’t I just appreciate my favorite person in the world?”

You huffed but took the flower, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

The visits didn’t stop. Each day, he came bearing small gifts—some fresh fruit, a book he claimed “reminded him of you,” even a plushie one time. You didn’t know where he got them, and you didn’t ask. He never overstayed his welcome, just long enough to chat, flash you that infuriatingly charming grin, and then disappear into the night.

There were…odd moments, though. Bruises appearing overnight. The way he sometimes winced when he thought you weren’t looking. You questioned him once, but he only ruffled your hair and said, “I’m just clumsy.”

You didn’t buy it. But you let it go. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was nearly 3 AM when you heard the familiar knock at your clinic door. You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Phainon, if you brought me another bouquet, I swear—”

The door swung open, revealing a very unimpressed Phainon holding a Tupperware container. “Stop eating instant noodles 24/7,” he deadpanned, marching straight to your desk.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I saw the trash,” he accused. “You are a doctor, and yet you treat your body like a college student cramming for finals.”

You gaped at him as he shoved the container into your hands. “I—You—Did you make this?”

He crossed his arms, looking almost smug. “Of course. You deserve real food.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, unexpected but not unwelcome. You sighed, popping the lid open to reveal a neatly prepared meal. “...Fine. But if this kills me, I’m haunting you.”

Phainon beamed. “Deal.”

And so, your strange dynamic continued—one clueless doctor, one overly devoted, not-so-secret vigilante, and an ever-growing pile of suspiciously extravagant gifts you pretended not to question.

But as the days passed, you couldn’t ignore it anymore—the way his grip lingered when he handed you something, how he always seemed to know when you were exhausted, the fleeting shadows in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

Something about Phainon was undeniably dangerous. And yet, when he smiled at you like you were his whole world, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The city breathed at night. It wasn’t the kind of breath that brought life—it was shallow, ragged, laced with rot. Beneath the neon glow of the skyline, the filth that called themselves "heroes" thrived, hiding behind capes and empty words.

Phainon had no patience for them.

He crouched on the rooftop of an abandoned parking structure, the cool wind ruffling his platinum hair. Below, the target moved, blissfully unaware of the predator watching from above.

Adrian Vaughn.

A hero by title. A parasite by nature. His record was pristine in the public eye—dozens of successful operations, multiple civilians "rescued," a shining beacon of hope for the people. But beneath that fabricated veneer, Vaughn was filth. Human trafficking, drug smuggling, bribery. He sold out the very people he was meant to protect, sending them into the hands of the highest bidder.

Phainon had been tracking him for weeks, studying his routines, his weaknesses. Tonight, he would erase his name from existence.

Vaughn turned into an alley, accompanied by two bodyguards dressed in sleek tactical gear. They weren’t ordinary thugs; they moved with the precision of trained killers. But Phainon wasn’t concerned.

He relished the challenge.

As Vaughn leaned against the brick wall, pulling out a cigar, Phainon dropped from the rooftop in complete silence.

The first man didn’t even have time to react. A dagger plunged into his throat, severing vocal cords before he could scream. Blood sprayed across the wall as Phainon twisted the blade, then yanked it free. The second guard barely managed to spin around, gun raised—

Too slow.

Phainon sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, and snapped it with a sickening crack. The gun clattered to the ground. Before the guard could register the pain, Phainon drove his knee into the man’s ribs, sending him crumpling. A swift strike to the temple, and the body hit the floor with a thud.

Vaughn stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “What the f—”

Phainon was on him before he could finish.

A brutal punch to the gut sent Vaughn reeling. He gasped, dropping his cigar, but Phainon didn’t let up. He grabbed the so-called hero by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

"Scared, ‘hero’?" Phainon murmured, voice dripping with mockery. His usual cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found—only cold amusement remained.

Vaughn wheezed. "W-Wait—"

Phainon drove his fist into the man’s ribs, feeling something crack. Vaughn let out a choked sound of pain.

"Did your victims get to beg?" Phainon asked, tilting his head. "Did you let them plead before you sold them like cattle?"

Vaughn trembled. "I—I can pay you! Triple whatever you’re getting! Just—"

The words died in his throat as Phainon unsheathed a second dagger, pressing it lightly against Vaughn’s cheek. A thin line of blood beaded where the blade kissed skin.

"Oh, Vaughn," Phainon sighed theatrically. "You really think this is about money?"

Vaughn whimpered.

Phainon’s grip tightened. His blade trailed down Vaughn’s neck, slow, deliberate. He could feel the man’s pulse hammering beneath his skin.

"You pretend to be a savior," Phainon whispered, his breath warm against Vaughn’s ear. "But you’re just another parasite, feeding off the innocent."

With a flick of his wrist, he drove the dagger into Vaughn’s shoulder.

A scream tore from the so-called hero’s lips, echoing through the alley.

"Shh, shh," Phainon cooed, twisting the blade. "Screaming won’t help you. No one’s coming."

Vaughn gasped, clawing at Phainon’s wrist, but the grip was unyielding.

"Please—!"

Phainon’s eyes darkened.

He yanked the blade free and, in one swift motion, slashed downward. Vaughn’s body convulsed before sagging against the wall. His eyes, once filled with arrogance, were now lifeless.

A pool of blood spread beneath him.

Phainon exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

Another name erased. Another stain cleansed.

Wiping the blood off his blade, he stepped over the corpses, retrieving the gun one of the bodyguards had dropped. He turned it over in his hands before smirking. A hero’s own weapon, used to kill his accomplices. The police would find the bodies in the morning and spin whatever story they wanted.

He didn’t care.

All that mattered was that Vaughn wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

The night welcomed him as he vanished into the darkness.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You sat on the worn-out couch of your clinic, a half-eaten pancake held loosely in your hands. The morning air was still crisp, the warmth of your blanket cocooning you, yet something about Phainon felt…off.

He was smiling—he always was—but there was something different about it. A flicker of exhaustion hidden behind his golden eyes, the way his fingers drummed against his knee, restless.

Something had happened.

You swallowed a bite of your food, tilting your head. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Phainon blinked, then grinned, feigning innocence. “What? Me? Angel, I am the very picture of health.”

You narrowed your eyes, setting your plate down. “Phainon.”

He flinched. You rarely used his name like that, not unless you were serious.

"Okay, okay, maybe I took a tiny night stroll," he admitted, waving a hand dismissively. "But look! I still had time to make you breakfast. Aren't I the best?"

You huffed, standing up and walking over to him. He was still sprawled lazily on your couch, but you could see it now—the tension in his shoulders, the subtle twitch in his fingers, as if his body hadn't fully come down from something.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his wrist. "You're tense."

For the first time since walking in, he hesitated.

You weren’t stupid. Phainon was good at hiding things, slipping past questions with honeyed words and cheeky grins. But now, up close, you could see the faint traces of red beneath his nails, the way his hoodie sleeves were rolled just enough to hide fresh bruises blooming along his skin.

Blood that wasn’t his.

The realization hit like a whisper of cold air.

"You’re hurt."

Phainon blinked. Then he smiled—small this time, softer, a little weary. "Not really," he murmured. "I’ve had worse."

You sighed, grabbing his wrist more firmly now. "Sit up."

He raised a brow. "Bossy today, aren't we?"

You shot him a look, and with a chuckle, he obeyed, straightening as you moved to inspect him properly.

Your hands were gentle, fingers tracing over his knuckles, noting the split skin. A fresh bruise painted the side of his hand, likely from impact. His sleeves had smudges of something darker—wiped-off blood.

You didn’t ask who it belonged to. You didn’t think you wanted to know.

Instead, you focused on tending to him, pulling out your medical kit. "You always come to me like this," you muttered. "How many times do I have to patch you up before you stop throwing yourself into trouble?"

Phainon leaned back against the couch, watching you with a lopsided smirk. "Mm… I dunno. How many times are you willing to fix me up?"

You paused, fingers hovering over his bruised skin. He always did this—teased, danced around the weight of his actions. And yet, the way he looked at you now, cerulean eyes searching, waiting—

It made your heart stutter.

"You're an idiot," you murmured, dipping a cloth into antiseptic before pressing it against his hand.

Phainon winced slightly but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into your touch.

"Maybe," he hummed, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. "But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"

Your breath hitched.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft rustling of bandages as you wrapped his hand. He was watching you too closely, his usual playful mask slipping into something else—something heavier.

You could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his breathing had slowed. His free hand—uninjured, warm—lifted slightly, brushing against your wrist.

A silent question.

You swallowed.

"...You are," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

And that was all it took.

Phainon grinned, lazy and triumphant, before tugging you forward by the wrist. You barely had time to react before you found yourself half in his lap, your knees pressing against the couch cushions, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Phainon—"

"Shhh," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. His voice was softer now, playful but laced with something deeper. "Just let me have this, angel."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You could feel his breath against your lips, the lingering scent of blood and something sweeter—cinnamon, from the breakfast he'd brought.

"You’re ridiculous," you mumbled, feeling heat creep up your neck.

Phainon chuckled, fingers brushing against your cheek. "And yet, you’re still here."

You wanted to argue, to shove him away and scold him for always making your heart race like this—but you didn't. Instead, you let yourself sink into the warmth of him, just for a moment.

The air smelled like rust and rain. Blood pooled into the cracks of the pavement, seeping into the earth like ink on paper. Phainon flicked his blade once, crimson droplets splattering against the nearby wall, before slipping it back into its holster.

The "hero" at his feet gurgled one last, pitiful sound before falling silent.

Pathetic.

Phainon sighed, running a gloved hand through his pristine white hair, pushing back strands that had fallen loose from his usual messy style. His blue eyes gleamed under the dim glow of a streetlamp, their usual mischievous shine dulled by the weight of his work.

"You done being dramatic, or should I start playing sad violin music?"

A voice, flat and unimpressed, cut through the night air.

Phainon turned his head, spotting a familiar figure standing against the alley wall—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking as grumpy as ever. Mydei.

Phainon grinned. "Aw, come on, don’t be like that, Mydei. You’re making it sound like I don’t do good work."

Mydei sighed, pushing off the wall with an irritated huff. His white uniform, pristine even in the grimy alley, barely had a speck of blood on it—contrasting Phainon’s more…chaotic approach. His ash-blonde hair with red tips was in a loose ponytail, with a braid out of place from his left side, and his sharp golden eyes burned with constant disapproval.

“I swear, working with you is an exercise in patience,” Mydei muttered, stepping over the corpse with little care. “You take too long.”

Phainon shrugged, stretching his arms above his head lazily. “Art takes time, Mydei. You can’t rush greatness.”

Mydei gave him a look. “We’re not painting a fucking masterpiece. We’re eliminating scum.”

“Eh, same thing.”

Another sigh. Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting off a migraine. “Just tell me it’s done so I can leave.”

“It’s done,” Phainon confirmed, rocking back on his heels. “You know, I don't get why you're always in such a rush. You should take time to appreciate the little things in life. Smell the roses, bask in the moonlight, think about the people you love—”

Mydei groaned. “Oh my god, do not start.”

Too late.

Phainon’s golden eyes softened, and a ridiculous, lovesick grin spread across his face. “Speaking of which, you won’t believe how adorable my angel looked this morning.” "Phainon shut up."

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and exhaustion. It was late—too late for anyone to still be working, and yet, there you were, hunched over a stack of medical files, barely blinking as you scribbled down notes.

Phainon leaned against the doorframe, watching with mild amusement and growing concern. He had come to visit—not because he was injured (for once), but because, well… he missed you. Not that he’d ever say it outright.

But the moment he stepped inside, he noticed something off.

Your movements were sluggish, and your usual sharp focus seemed dulled by exhaustion. There were dark circles under your eyes, your lips slightly chapped, and your uniform was wrinkled—like you hadn’t had a proper break in days.

Phainon frowned.

“Hey, Angel—”

“Don’t call me that,” you muttered, barely looking up from your work.

“Alright, alright. [Name].” His tone softened slightly. “How long have you been at this?”

You hummed distractedly, flipping a page. “Since morning.”

Phainon’s brow twitched. “…It’s midnight.”

“Mm.”

Oh, hell no.

Before he could argue, you sniffled slightly. Then—

A single drop of red hit the page in front of you.

Phainon stiffened. His cerulean blue eyes widened slightly as he watched another drop fall.

You blinked. Touched your nose. Oh. Blood.

“Ah…” you mumbled, finally acknowledging your own state. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Phainon echoed incredulously.

You waved him off, already reaching for a tissue. “It’s fine. I just need to—”

“Sit. Down.”

Your hands froze.

When you finally looked up, Phainon was giving you a look. His usual easygoing grin was gone, replaced with something serious. It wasn’t often you saw him like this—jaw tight, eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

"Phai, I still have—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “You’re overworking yourself to the point of bleeding, [Name]. That’s not normal.”

You scoffed. “It’s just a nosebleed.”

“It’s not just a nosebleed when you’ve been running on fumes for who knows how long,” he shot back. “Have you even eaten today?”

You didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

Phainon sighed, dragging a hand through his messy white hair. “Unbelievable.”

Before you could protest, he was already moving. You barely had time to react before he grabbed the chair you were sitting in and spun it around so you were facing him. Then, to your surprise, he crouched down in front of you, resting his arms on his knees as he looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

The change in height was jarring. He was always towering over you at 6’2, but now? Now he looked genuinely concerned.

“Hey,” his voice softened. “Look at me.”

You hesitated, but you met his gaze.

“…When’s the last time you slept properly?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You swallowed. “Um.”

“That’s what I thought.” He clicked his tongue. “Angel—”

You shot him a weak glare.

“Fine, fine. [Name].” He sighed again, softer this time. “You can’t keep this up.”

You glanced at the files on your desk. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice was gentle, but firm. “The world isn’t gonna end if you take a break.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Phainon reached out and—

Tapped your forehead.

You blinked in surprise.

“Rest,” he murmured, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic warmth. “For me?”

For a moment, you just… stared at him.

The cerulean blue of his eyes was unusually soft, like the glow of the sky just before dawn. His messy white hair framed his face, strands falling over his forehead, but he made no move to fix it. He was just there, crouched in front of you, waiting.

You sighed. “…Fine.”

A slow, satisfied grin stretched across Phainon’s face. “Good.”

Then, to your utter horror, he stood up—grabbed you by the shoulders—and physically dragged you out of your chair.

“Phai—! What are you—”

“Bed. Now.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he said cheerfully, leading you toward the break room. “I’m amazing.”

You groaned. “You’re annoying.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Shut up.”

He only laughed.

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

For the first time that night, the clinic was quiet.

The usual hum of your overworked mind had finally been silenced—replaced by the soft, even breaths of sleep. Phainon leaned against the doorway of the break room, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You had knocked out almost immediately after your head hit the pillow. Figures. Your body had probably been screaming for rest, and yet, you'd kept going until you'd collapsed.

He sighed through his nose, running a hand through his messy white hair.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

The dim clinic lights cast soft shadows over your face, highlighting the exhaustion that had settled deep into your features. He had never seen you like this before—not just tired, but completely worn down. It made something tighten in his chest.

You always worked too damn hard. Too much responsibility. Too much weight on your shoulders.

Phainon hated it.

His cerulean blue eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally moved. Quietly, he stepped forward, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. You barely stirred, only sighing in your sleep as you curled further into the warmth.

He huffed a quiet laugh, crouching down beside you.

"You really do too much, y'know," he murmured, mostly to himself. "What would you do without me, huh?"

Silence.

A small smile ghosted over his lips.

His gloved fingers brushed against a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. You always looked so sharp, so focused—yet here, like this, you looked… peaceful.

He let out another sigh, softer this time.

“…Rest, Angel,” he murmured.

And for once, you did.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the silence.

No beeping machines, no shuffling patients, no ringing phone. Just the soft, comforting quiet of a world you weren’t used to.

Then, the second thing hit you.

You felt… rested.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Your eyes shot open, and the moment you glanced at the clock, your stomach dropped.

2:07 PM.

You had been asleep for over thirteen hours.

Panic surged through you, and you shot up so fast that the blanket slipped off your shoulders. "Oh, shit—I—"

"You’re finally up, Angel."

Your head whipped toward the source of the voice.

Phainon leaned lazily against the doorframe, his usual easygoing smile in place. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just let you sleep through half the day.

"Thirteen hours?!" you nearly shrieked, throwing the blanket off yourself. "Why the hell didn’t you wake me up? I have patients—I have work—"

"You don’t," Phainon said smoothly, pushing off the doorframe and strolling toward you. "I told the nurse to cancel all your appointments for the day."

You froze.

"You what?"

Phainon only grinned, placing his hands on his hips like he’d done something heroic. "Today, you’re gonna rest and take care of yourself."

Your brain short-circuited. "Phai, you canceled my entire schedule?! Do you know how many—"

"Yup. And I’d do it again." He patted your head before you could dodge, his cerulean eyes glinting mischievously. "You're lucky I didn’t call a damn intervention."

You smacked his hand away with a scowl. "You can’t just decide that for me!"

"Yeah?" He arched a brow. "Then tell me, oh mighty doctor—when’s the last time you actually got a full night’s sleep?"

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

He had a point.

You hated that he had a point.

"...Exactly." Phainon ruffled your hair again, this time dodging your half-hearted attempt to swat him. "Now, c’mon. I made breakfast."

You blinked.

Your eyes trailed past him, toward the break room, and sure enough, you smelled it—the unmistakable scent of eggs, toast, and something slightly sweet.

Your stomach betrayed you with a low grumble.

Phainon’s grin widened.

"...Fine," you muttered, crossing your arms. "But only because I’m starving."

"Uh-huh," he teased, motioning for you to follow. "C’mon, Angel, let me spoil you for once."

You rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, warmth curled in your chest. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

After reluctantly agreeing to Phainon’s so-called "rest day," you made your way to the bathroom, still half-convinced this was some elaborate prank.

But the moment you stepped into the warm shower, feeling the tension in your muscles slowly melt away, you realized just how much you needed this.

For once, you weren’t rushing.

No patients waiting outside. No phone buzzing with emergency calls. No back-to-back shifts looming over your head.

Just peace.

You took your time—longer than usual—letting the hot water soothe your overworked body. Once you finally emerged, refreshed and slightly dazed, you dried your hair, slipped into comfortable clothes, and stepped out into the main clinic space.

And the first thing you saw was him.

Phainon sat on the couch, casually twirling something between his fingers. The moment his cerulean blue eyes landed on you, his entire face lit up.

Like a puppy seeing its favorite person.

"You look cute all cozy," he teased, tilting his head.

You scoffed, but before you could throw back a retort, he suddenly reached for your hand.

You blinked as he placed something cold and sleek against your palm.

A… black credit card?

You stared down at it, then back at him. "Uh, Phai? What the hell is this?"

His smile only grew. "Your new best friend."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why do you have a black credit card with no limit? And why are you giving it to me?"

He leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"Because," he drawled, tapping the card in your hand, "I want you to spoil yourself."

You deadpanned. "Phai."

"Angel."

"Phainon."

"[Name]."

You groaned. "This is insane! I can’t just—"

"Sure, you can," he interrupted smoothly, flashing you a grin. "Buy whatever you want. Clothes, skincare, a new bed, hell—buy a whole damn island if it makes you happy."

"Why are you like this?" you muttered, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Because you deserve it," he said, voice softer this time. No teasing, no smugness—just pure, genuine sincerity. "You work your ass off for everyone else. So, let me take care of you for once, yeah?"

You bit your lip, suddenly unsure how to respond.

The idea of spending his money—let alone this much money—felt ridiculous. But the way he looked at you, so effortlessly warm and unwavering in his care, made your chest tighten.

"...I’ll think about it," you muttered, shoving the card into your pocket.

Phainon beamed. "That’s my girl."

You flushed. "Phai—"

"Shhh." He grinned, standing up and ruffling your hair. "Now, go pick something. Or better yet, let’s go out, and I’ll help you spend it."

You were lounging on the couch, finally allowing yourself a moment of rest, when you heard a loud thud.

Your head snapped up just in time to see Phainon stumble back, one hand clutching his forehead after walking straight into the wall.

For a second, there was silence. Then—

"Ow."

Your stomach dropped. "Phai?!"

Without thinking, you shot up from your seat and rushed to him. His cerulean eyes blinked in mild confusion as you cupped his face, tilting it down so you could examine his forehead.

"Let me see," you mumbled, scanning for any signs of bruising. "God, you’re such an idiot. How did you even—"

Before you could finish, Phainon suddenly turned his head—

And pressed a soft kiss against the inside of your palm.

You froze.

The warmth of his lips lingered against your skin, his gaze locked onto yours, impossibly fond and teasing all at once.

"Don’t worry, Angel," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "You won’t lose me that easily."

Your breath hitched, heart thudding a little too fast. "Phai—"

But before anything else could happen—

The door slammed open.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You jolted in shock as a familiar figure stormed inside.

Dressed in his usual crisp uniform, Mydei stood at the entrance, his golden eyes immediately narrowing at the scene before him. His already grumpy expression twisted into something even darker the moment he spotted you—cupping Phainon’s face—while Phainon was holding your wrist way too tenderly.

For a long, tense moment, there was silence.

Then—

"BRO GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

Your brain short-circuited. "…What?"

Phainon, to your absolute horror, simply turned to him with a shit-eating grin. "Ohhh, so now you decide to show up?"

"PHAINON, I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Wait, wait, wait," you cut in, still trying to process literally everything. You looked between the two men—one your unbearably clingy not-so-secret admirer, the other your grumpy older brother who should not be here. "What do you mean ‘sister’?!"

"What do you mean ‘now you show up’?!"

Mydei scowled, ignoring your question entirely. "I knew something was up. The way you’ve been talking about some ‘angel’ non-stop—"

"Ohhh," Phainon mused, leaning back slightly. "Now it all makes sense."

You turned to him, utterly bewildered. "What makes sense?!"

He simply beamed at you, still completely unbothered. "Angel, did I forget to mention?* Your brother and I are coworkers.*"

You blinked. Then, slowly—painfully—you turned to Mydei. "You what?"

Your brother pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about "just one damn night without problems." Then, exhaling sharply, he shot Phainon a glare that could’ve killed a man on the spot.

"This is exactly why I told you not to get involved," Mydei growled. "But nooo, you just had to imprint on my little sister like a lost puppy—"

Phainon grinned. "You call it imprinting. I call it fate."

"Phainon, I swear—"

"Everyone shut up!" you finally snapped, massaging your temples. "Someone start explaining before I actually lose my mind."

Mydei glared at Phainon like he was this close to throwing him out the window. "You first, dumbass."

Phainon chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Where do I even start? The part where we’ve been hunting down corrupt heroes together? Or the part where I fell for your sister the moment she patched me up?"

Mydei’s eye twitched. "Get the fuck out."

"No can do, big bro," Phainon said, grinning. "I live for danger, and your sister happens to be my favorite one."

Mydei clenched his fists. "I am so going to kill you."

Meanwhile, you just stood there, completely overwhelmed.

Your brother was a secret vigilante.

Phainon was his partner in crime.

And apparently, Mydei had no idea that Phainon had been sneaking into your life like a love-struck idiot this entire time.

You let out a slow, suffering sigh. "I need another bath."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Its been 47 fucking minutes and those two gigantic men are STILL arguing

You inhaled sharply through your nose, gripping the bridge of your nose as both Phainon and Mydei continued their bickering like two overgrown children.

"I swear to god," Mydei seethed, jabbing a finger at Phainon. "If you so much as breathe near my sister again—"

"Too late," Phainon interrupted smoothly, looking completely unbothered. "I’ve already done much more than breathing. Did you know her hands are so soft—"

"PHAINON, I WILL MURDER YOU."

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!"

Your voice boomed through the room, silencing both men immediately.

They both snapped their heads toward you, wide-eyed, as you glared at them with the force of someone who had been through way too much in one day.

"I don’t care who kills who," you hissed. "I don’t care who works with who, and I especially don’t care about your dumb territorial bullshit. Both of you, just—SHUT UP."

A thick, heavy silence filled the air.

Then, very slowly—

Phainon’s expression crumbled into the most heart-wrenchingly sad look you had ever seen.

His cerulean eyes went wide with devastation. His lips wobbled slightly. His shoulders slumped. His entire demeanor changed into that of an abandoned puppy who had just been kicked out into the rain.

And then—he sank onto the floor.

"...Okay," he mumbled, looking utterly defeated.

You blinked. "Phai, what are you doing—"

Before you could finish, Mydei also stiffened.

Your brother—grumpy, terrifying, merciless vigilante Mydei—visibly swallowed, his golden eyes darting between you and Phainon. Then, hesitantly, with all the grace of a cat who didn’t want to admit guilt—he sat down beside Phainon.

"...Sorry," he grumbled.

You stared at them.

One sad, abandoned puppy.

One guilty, grumpy cat.

Sitting on your floor.

Like two children who had just been scolded by their mom.

You let out the biggest sigh of your life and rubbed your temples. "You both have got to be kidding me."

Phainon, still looking like he had been emotionally devastated, peeked up at you through messy white bangs. "Angel… are you still mad at me?"

You exhaled sharply. "No."

Phainon immediately perked up, tail-wagging energy returning. "Okay, cool. So I can—"

"DON’T PUSH IT."

"Okay," he whispered, sitting back down.

Beside him, Mydei grumbled under his breath before side-eyeing Phainon. "...Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Phainon turned to him and blinked. "Because you sat down."

"I sat down because she was mad at me!"

"Yeah, and she was mad at me too."

"So what, you just copied me?"

"Pretty much."

Mydei groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I hate you so much." "But your sister loves me ;)"

[22ayla21]

hiyoouuuuuu, can I request a Mydei scenario where Okhema Kids make like a little weeding for Mydei and his beloved out of nowhere. A small fluff thing. (btw your stories a ABSOLUTLY delicious, MiaM)

The Okhema "Wedding"

The children decided to throw a fun wedding for Mydei and his beloved.

"What is this?" Mydei's beloved froze in astonishment, seeing a dozen children with sly smiles in front of her.

"It's your wedding!" the bravest little one announced proudly.

Mydei blinked. "Our... what?"

"Wedding!" the children repeated in unison.

"But we're not married," the girl remarked with a slight chuckle.

"That's why we arranged it!"

While they were recovering, the children continued their preparations. The Okhema kids were inventive, so in a few days they organized something resembling a wedding ceremony, albeit childishly cute and chaotic.

Improvised "guests" stood around—a few goats, a lazily dozing dog, and dolls carefully seated by the children on boxes.

"We thought of everything!" their "leader," a nine-year-old boy named Liv, declared importantly. "Here, Mydeimos, a king's cloak for you!"

He held out a piece of fabric resembling an old cloak, entwined with floral garlands.

Mydei took the cloak, nodded, and with a smirk, draped it over his shoulders. "A worthy attire."

"And for you, princess, a wreath!" a girl, older than the others, placed a wreath of wildflowers on Mydei's beloved's head.

"P-princess?" she blushed.

"Yeah! You're the future queen!" Liv stated confidently.

Mydei looked at her with interest. "Did you hear that? You're a princess now."

She gently nudged him in the side. "You've spoiled them."

"They're just like that on their own."

"Enough chatter!" Liv said sternly. "We need to finish the ceremony."

They led them under an improvised arch of branches, decorated with colorful ribbons.

"Now you must swear loyalty to each other!"

Mydei grinned. "Well, all right." He took her hand, lightly squeezing her fingers. "I swear to protect you, support you, and endure all your quirks."

She smiled. "I swear to be by your side, even when you get involved in some crazy adventure again."

The children hummed approvingly.

"Now kiss!" someone shouted.

"Hey, that's too much," the beloved blushed.

"Those are the rules," Liv said innocently.

Mydei chuckled. "Well, if we have to..."

He gently touched her forehead with his lips. The children clapped, some whistling joyfully.

"Now you're definitely married!"

"Yes, now you're family!"

"Celebration! We need a celebration!"

The kids ran around in circles, singing songs, while the goats and the dog seemed to decide it was time to demand treats.

"Do you think a real wedding will be like this?" she asked Mydei quietly.

He looked thoughtfully at the running children and smiled.

"If it's even half as fun, I'm in."

[samuraseiichi]

school au

[macrosmic]

his fists are no joke!

[luxiaar]

吾王。My king.

[ayatheav]

what truly gets me about the "in the next life you should come visit my library" scene is that it's specifically an answer to Phainon wanting to learn more about the kremnoan language. yes they're bickering but it's also about wanting to understand Mydei better. and Mydei really says "if the world was kinder to us i'd tell you more about me. if we had more time i'd let you closer"

[aratribow]

Throwing wife at wife for taking pity on me and finally coming TF HOME

/pops shaken soda bottle and drinks it

[yurinaa-world]

HehehdjfhfjshHAHAHAHA

imagine Mydei with a reader whos OBSESSED. With flowers, every time without fail they go and find a new flower to add to their collection of knowledge about the pretty plants, they always run to Mydei to tell him about it, and he could only stare at them as they rant with a lovesick smile on his face like “yes please keep on talking to me about this even though I’m never gonna use this in my life.”

Oh my stars and imagine if they put flowers in his hair, just this big giant brute of a guy standing there with all sorts of flowers sticking out of his hair. They had to leave for something and he didn’t dare take them out so he had to walk around the city w his hair like that for the rest of the day with phainon laughing at him every time they see each other

"𝓬𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼."

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Mydei x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's obsessed with flowers

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

“Don’t these look so pretty?”

He would do anything just to see you happy. No matter how embarrassing it might seem to others, your happiness is all that matters to him. Whether you ask for a large bed of rare flowers—even having just one of these plants is difficult—Mydei will get it for you. Or if you ask to put flowers in his hair for the entire day, he’ll let you (even if Phainon laughs at him, he’ll just jump him).

“Very beautiful.” Mydei’s voice is soft, filled with warmth, matching the gentle gaze he holds for you.

“Can I put them in your hair, then?”

You’ve already put so many, it’s ridiculous that you ask to add more.

His lips quirk into an indulgent smile, and without hesitation, he leans down slightly, giving you better access. “Of course,” he murmurs. “Put as many as you like.”

Your fingers work delicately, weaving the flowers into Mydei’s hair, careful not to tangle the soft strands. The way he sits so still, patient under your touch, makes your heart warm.

“You look so pretty,” you say with a satisfied hum, tilting your head to admire your work.

“If you believe so, then I am.”

.

.

.

“What happened to your hair?!”

Phainon can’t hold his laughter in. He already knows exactly which flower spirit covered Mydeimos’s hair in pretty flowers and their petals.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[devdozes]

Spiderman phainon but what about Spiderman mydeimos???

SPIDERMAN MYDEIMOS‼️

AAAA I NEED TO START DRAWING SPIDEY MYDEI RN

Being Spider-Man's Girlfriend was supposed to be cool, but nobody told you it would involve this much damage control.

"Hold still, Mydeimos, you're bleeding on the couch again."

"It's fine," he said, tone as flat as ever, even as you pressed a disinfectant wipe to his arm. His golden eyes barely flicked toward the wound. "It'll heal."

"Yeah, but my couch won't," you huffed. "You keep doing this, and we're gonna have to invest in plastic covers like an old married couple."

"Tch. Ugly."

"So is your arm right now."

He exhaled sharply through his nose—his version of a laugh. His whole vibe screamed 'intimidating man who has no time for nonsense,' but you knew better. Mydei might look like a cold, blunt realist, but he had his moments of secret softness. Not that he'd ever admit to them.

"You saw the news, right?" he asked, switching topics while you bandaged him up. "Everyone thinks Spider-Man is terrifying. Some reporter said I move like a 'predator in the dark.'" He scoffed. "I'm saving them, and they still call me scary."

You patted his arm, amused. "To be fair, you do have that whole 'gruff, intimidating presence' thing going on."

"They can't even see my face."

"No, but you could stop glaring at people like you're deciding their fate."

Mydei clicked his tongue and looked away. He totally did that.

Once you finished bandaging him, you leaned back with a satisfied grin. "There, all done. Now you can go back to swinging around the city like a menace."

"I'm not a menace."

"You also saved a kitten today and pet its head for like a whole minute."

"Shut up."

You beamed. Got him.

He sighed and leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the ceiling as if contemplating the entire universe. This was the real Mydei. Not the scary, unapproachable figure everyone thought he was. This was your Mydei—the one who let you patch him up, who tolerated your teasing, who had a hidden love for cute things and a soft spot for you.

You nudged his leg with your foot. "Wanna watch something? I promise not to pick anything stupid."

"Liar."

"Okay, I promise not to pick something too stupid."

He huffed but didn’t object as you grabbed the remote. A victory. A small one, but still.

A few minutes passed before he moved again. This time, he didn’t just rest his arm around you—he practically wrapped himself around you, his strong arms locking you in place. His head buried into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You blinked. "Uh... Mydei?"

He mumbled something unintelligible but didn’t budge.

A small laugh bubbled up in your throat. Everyone called him a tiger, but for you, he was just a big, clingy cat.

"You're really comfy," he muttered, voice low, almost sheepish. "And warm."

Your heart did an embarrassing flip. How was this the same guy who scared half the city?

Smiling, you brought a hand up, gently running your fingers through his hair. "I swear, for someone with a scary reputation, you sure act like an oversized cat sometimes."

"Don't make it weird."

"Too late."

Mydei groaned but didn’t move an inch. If anything, he held you tighter.

Minutes passed, and you realized he wasn’t just holding you—he was trapping you. His arms were ridiculously strong, making escape impossible. Even shifting slightly earned you a grumble from where his face was buried in your neck.

"Uh, Mydei? I can’t move."

"Don’t need to."

You huffed. "Okay, but I kinda wanna grab the popcorn—"

"No."

You tried to wiggle an arm free. Failed. "Mydei, you're literally Spider-Man. You can reach it."

"Lazy."

"You're the one pinning me down!"

"Mhm."

He was completely content like this, muscles relaxed, warmth radiating from him as he clung to you like some oversized, stubborn cat refusing to let go of its favorite person.

Eventually, you gave up and sighed. "You better not fall asleep on me."

No response. Just the steady rhythm of his breathing, still wrapped around you like a human blanket.

You were about to tease him again, but the comfort of his warmth, the quiet hum of the movie playing in the background, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours started to lull you into drowsiness. His breath was slow, his hold secure, and before you knew it, your own eyelids grew heavy.

Sinking deeper into his embrace, you let sleep take over, your fingers still loosely tangled in his hair. Mydei shifted slightly, adjusting his grip just enough to bury his face even further into the crook of your neck, murmuring something inaudible in his sleep.

And just like that, you both drifted off—tangled together, warm, safe.

Mydei woke up first, groggy but comfortable. The first thing he noticed was you, still tucked under him, breathing softly in your sleep.

His golden eyes softened. He was heavy, practically draped over you like a living weighted blanket, yet you hadn’t pushed him away. You let him stay.

Carefully, he loosened his grip—just enough to scoop you up in his arms, moving with the silent ease of someone used to carrying people through the city.

You barely stirred as he lifted you, your face nuzzling against his chest instinctively.

Mydei sighed, pressing a quiet kiss to your forehead before walking toward your bedroom. But Just as Mydei tucked you into bed, his entire body tensed. A sharp, unmistakable sting prickled at the back of his neck—his spider-sense screaming.

His golden eyes snapped toward the window, instincts already kicking in. Something was happening.

In one swift motion, he pulled the blanket up over you, making sure you were comfortably settled. His fingers lingered for just a second—reluctant, but there was no time to hesitate. Duty called.

He turned, moving across the room with silent precision, already shrugging on his suit and golden metal claws. The familiar fabric clung to him like a second skin, his mask slipping over his face as he strode toward the window.

He turns his head to give you one last glance, before jumping out the window off to where his senses were taking him. . . . . .When he reached the scene, the first thing he saw was chaos. A messed-up road, broken stones, debris everywhere—

And a car on fire.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, scanning the destruction. His gaze caught on something small lying among the rubble.

A Spiderman plushie?

Before he could react, an immense force slammed into him from the side, sending him flying—straight into the wall of a shop.

The impact rattled through Mydei’s ribs as he crashed into the shop’s wall, shattering the glass windows with the sheer force of the throw. Dust and debris clouded his vision, the ringing in his ears a dull reminder that he’d let his guard down. His fingers twitched around the small Spider-Man plushie he had picked up—what the hell was that doing here?

But before he could process it, a deep, guttural laugh rumbled from the cracked road ahead.

"Not so tough now, are ya, Spider?"

Mydei’s sharp golden eyes snapped up, locking onto the massive figure emerging from the wreckage. The guy was built like a wrecking ball—easily over seven feet tall, muscles bulging unnaturally under his torn clothes. His skin had a rough, almost stone-like texture, giving him an armored appearance. His face was twisted in a grin, eyes gleaming with the thrill of destruction.

Super strength. That explained the obliterated street. But Mydei had already noticed something else. The brute’s movements were sluggish—slow to adjust, slow to react. He had power, but speed? Weak.

Mydei cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he tossed the plushie aside.

“Alright, big guy,” he muttered, voice laced with sharp amusement, “You’re strong. I’ll give you that.” He bent his knees slightly, fingers twitching as he prepared to launch. “But let’s see how well you handle someone who actually knows how to fight.”

The brute snarled and charged, the ground trembling beneath his heavy steps. But Mydei was already moving.

WHIP—

A web shot out, latching onto the crumbling remains of a streetlight. In a heartbeat, Mydei launched himself into the air, narrowly avoiding the devastating punch that cratered the pavement where he had just stood. The mutant’s fist sunk into the concrete, struggling to pull it back out.

“Too slow.” Mydei’s voice rang from above.

The mutant barely had time to look up before Mydei came crashing down with a devastating kick to his jaw. The sheer force sent the brute stumbling back, cracks forming along his hardened skin.

"HRGH—!" The villain spat out something red—blood? A tooth? Who cared.

But Mydei didn’t stop.

He was already moving again, flipping midair, using another web to slingshot himself behind his opponent. Before the brute could react, Mydei landed a flurry of precise, brutal punches—each blow aimed at weak points. The ribs. The back of the knees. The joints. The guy was a tank, sure, but even tanks had weak spots.

The mutant roared in frustration, swinging wildly, trying to catch him. But Mydei was untouchable. Ducking. Weaving. Flipping. His movements were as fluid as water, never in the same place twice.

"You know," Mydei mused, narrowly avoiding a grab attempt, "for someone with that much muscle, you’d think you’d be better at actually landing a hit."

The brute’s eyes burned with rage. "STAND STILL!"

“No thanks.”

With that, Mydei shot a web at the mutant’s face—SPLAT!—effectively blinding him.

The villain roared, clawing at the sticky mess over his eyes. And that’s when Mydei saw his opening.

Launching forward, Mydei twisted midair and delivered a final, devastating roundhouse kick to the side of the mutant’s head. The sheer force sent him flying—his body crashing through a half-destroyed car before finally going still.

For a moment, silence.

Then, a groan. The brute twitched, clearly still conscious but dazed.

Mydei landed smoothly, rolling his shoulders. “You’re still awake? That’s impressive. Too bad it won’t last.”

With practiced ease, he shot out several webs, wrapping the mutant up tight against a broken lamppost. Struggle all he wanted, the brute wasn’t breaking out of that anytime soon.

The sirens were already wailing in the distance. Cops were on their way.

Mydei exhaled, finally relaxing his stance.

Then, he noticed it—the little Spider-Man plushie he had tossed aside earlier, lying near the wreckage.

“…Tch.” Without thinking, he picked it back up, dusting it off. He glanced at the unconscious villain, then at the mess around him.

“…Still gotta get back before she wakes up,” he muttered.

Just as Mydei swung through the city, a sudden, searing bolt of energy shot past him—so close he barely dodged in time. Someone was watching. Someone hidden.

Golden eyes narrowed. Fine. If they wanted to play this game—

He’d find them first.

The cowardly villain was a lanky figure wrapped in tattered cloth, his gaunt face shadowed by a hood. His power? Energy-based projectiles. He hid in the dark, firing shots from afar, never engaging in direct combat. He was weak up close—he knew it, Mydei knew it.

Which was why the villain always ran when things got too heated.

And tonight was no exception. As soon as Mydei got close, the villain turned tail, attempting to flee.

But before he could escape, a flying baseball bat shot through the air at an insane speed, striking him directly in the head with a sickening thud. The villain's body crumpled to the ground instantly.

Mydei's gaze snapped to where the bat had come from, and there you stood, arms crossed, glaring down at him from your apartment window with an expression of pure annoyed fury.

"Dear Spider-Man," you said, voice dripping with passive-aggressive venom, "if you're gonna fight, please try to be quiet and not interrupt people's sleep."

Mydei blinked. Then sighed. Oh god hes fucked . . . . . Mydei landed on your balcony with practiced ease, his mask still in place as he crouched, golden eyes watching you with a mix of guilt and amusement. You were still standing at the window, arms crossed, your glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

"I was handling it," he muttered, pulling off his mask.

"Yeah? Well, I handled it faster," you shot back, tilting your chin up. "And now my precious sleep is gone, all thanks to my dear superhero boyfriend who can’t keep it down."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I’ll make it up to you."

You raised a skeptical brow. "Oh? How?"

Without another word, Mydei scooped you up effortlessly, pulling you into his arms before stepping inside.

"Mydei—! Put me down, you dramatic bastard, or what do you call phainon? yeah HKS."

He ignored you, carrying you over to the couch and gently setting you down before disappearing into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned, holding a warm cup of tea in one hand and your favorite snack in the other.

He placed them on the table in front of you before sitting on the floor down beside you.

"Accept my offering," he murmured against your thighs.

You huffed, trying to hold on to your grumpiness. But between the warmth of the tea, the comfort of his hold, and the way he was resting his on your lap like some overgrown cat, your resolve crumbled.

"...Fine," you grumbled, taking the tea. "But you still owe me for the lost sleep."

Mydei smirked. "I can think of a way." "Shut the fuck up mydei" But then an idea flashed in your mind as you gave him a cheeky smile.

Mydei eyed you suspiciously as you flashed him a devious smile, pulling something from behind your back. His sharp golden eyes narrowed when he saw the fabric in your hands—a pair of matching Hello Kitty pajamas.

"If you want to make it up to me," you cooed, holding up the ridiculously cute pink pajamas, "then put this on."

Mydei's expression went completely blank. He slowly blinked at you, then at the pajamas, then back at you again.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"I fight crime in the dead of night, swinging across the city, getting smashed into walls, and dealing with the most annoying villains imaginable—"

"And now you're putting on the Hello Kitty pajamas," you cut him off sweetly, pushing them into his chest.

Mydei sighed, running a hand down his face. He was a realist, a straightforward man who prided himself on logic and practicality. There was no practical reason for him to wear pink Hello Kitty pajamas.

And yet, ten minutes later, there he was.

Standing in your living room.

Wearing them.

And looking absolutely massive in the cutesy, oversized fabric.

You barely held in your laughter, eyes sparkling with mischief as you twirled around in your own matching set.

"This is blackmail material," Mydei muttered under his breath, crossing his arms as he towered over you, looking both dead inside and resigned to his fate.

"You look adorable," you chirped, hugging his arm.

He grumbled, ears slightly red, before pulling you into his arms like a hostage.

"If I'm doing this, we're doing this right. Movie day," he declared, dragging you onto the couch.

"Exactly! Now, go order snacks," you said, shoving your phone into his hands.

Mydei gave you a long, unamused stare.

"...You're really milking this, huh?"

"Absolutely."

He exhaled heavily but started placing the order anyway. Because, despite his protests, he was completely wrapped around your finger.

And unfortunately for him?

You knew it.