#truly depressed but hot

[rarilight]

i need to get back on my bullshit and write sappy purple gfs

[batsplat]

random throwback to fabio's response to casey saying he should've been black flagged for the whole open leathers situation

[perigilpin]

That's me in the corner, that’s me in the spotlight, losing my religion

[angeltannis]

was wondering why several of my posts about Shadowed Heart had weird fundies like and rb them…ended up going down a rabbit hole and apparently she’s very popular with incels and misogynists who celebrate her Selunite plotline as Converting Your Wayward Goth Gf Into a Tradwife

[deathsmallcaps]

*sees a post talking about how farming in the summer must be perfect and sweet and warm*

*laughs in farm worker*

[gottaarc]

Staring intensely at the unfinished Zenji/MC Chappell Roan short fic sitting in my drafts rn

[xserpx]

Leo dan Brock had been a pleasing diversion. From the neck down, he was astonishing. When she opened his shirt, she had spent a moment just staring. It was as if he was carved from flesh-coloured marble by a sculptor intent on exaggeration. There had been a moment when he lifted her clean off her feet so effortlessly, it felt as if she might never come down…

But in the end, what truly makes a man is above the neck. The instant she made a joke, Orso would have pounced upon it, unfolded and developed it, tossed it back delightfully changed. Leo scarcely realised a joke had been made.

— A Little Hatred by Joe Abercrombie

If his mother could’ve packed his head in a box but left the rest of him available, it would’ve suited Rikke just fine, but he probably didn’t want to hear that.

[agentark]

some dude I went to high school with (TEN years ago and NEVER spoke to) is in my insta DMs calling me "darling"

the audacity of men never ceases to amaze me

[teenagefeeling]

some days im legitimately worried a patron is gonna ask me for something stupid and i'm just gonna respond "actually, i want to kill myself"

[synthetic-sonata]

its awesome being into a thing with a small cult(??? ig) following but it also means if you dont like someone's characterization you can outright talk about it or else youll be a dick . Except almost everyone has bad characterization of your favorite character and you're about to kill someone

[fatetainted]

"divorced father?" so, you're saying he looks like a depressed dilf? excuse you, vincent already has that position filled.

[erikad25]

my seasonal depression is kind of like a game of thrones winter

[dreamsteddie]

Steve and Eddie who kind of flop in life and end up poor, living in a trailer in a different small town living quiet lives of no import.

The kids, Robin, Nancy, and Johnathan all seem to take the small handful of opportunities offered to them by the government in the aftermath of the Upsidedown to take off and make something of their lives. They're off writing headlines, making news, and living their lives to the best of their abilities, but Steve and Eddie find themselves stuck.

Steve stayed in Hawkins until the kids graduated and left for college. By then Nancy, Johnathan, and Robin are all in their second or third years of college. John and Nancy have their own apartment in New York together and don't reach out all that often, only seeing the rest of the Hawkins crew on Holidays and some vacations. Robin is flourishing at an all-women's college in Maine and has a partner and a cat and plans for graduate school brewing. She's always saying Steve can come out and join her whenever he's ready, but when the time comes it feels like he would just be trying to insert himself in the middle of a life he doesn't know how to fit into, so he turns to Eddie instead.

Eddie is permanently disabled in a number of ways following the events of season four. He struggles with chronic pain, has breathing issues due to the loss of part of his right lung, and lost enough muscle mass in his left leg that walking will never be easy or done without the use of a walker or arm bar crutches. The doctors said he recovered as well as he could have. The kids said he would get better with time. Wayne said it didn't matter if he never got better, he could do anything he set his mind to.

Steve is the only person who tells him the truth.

Steve tells him that it sucks. Tells him that it will probably always hurt. Doesn't give him false hope when he's trying to grieve the loss of the life he wanted to live. The goals he wanted to reach. When he falls deeper and deeper into himself, stuck in the muck of depression, Steve is the only person he lets in. The kids try their best but their lives are moving fast, and taking care of someone like Eddie is exhausting, no matter what they try to say. Eventually, everyone but Dustin gives up on reaching out, the younger boy showing up every Sunday to try and get Eddie out of the house. He always leaves disappointed.

When Steve asks him if he wants to use what's left of their partly government payouts and Steve's equally meager Family Video savings to buy a truly shitty trailer in a town an hour and a half south of Hawkins in the fall of 1990, it feels like the first boon he's been given in almost five years. He'll never be who he could have been if he had ignored Chrissy that day in 86', but he's always thought maybe he could be more than a ghost between Wayne's walls if he could just get out of this god-forsaken town full of people who know too much and too little of what's happened to him.

They get the trailer, pack what little they have, let Wayne hug them close, and leave.

Steve has already transferred to their new town's Family Video, moving up to claim the dubious honor of being the opening manager. Mostly he just unlocks the door, signs into the computer, and makes sure nothing catches fire. Eddie hoped that moving would miraculously make him fit to enter back into the world, but he spends most of his days with a blanket on the front porch, watching people pass by. He does, though, finally accept that he needs to apply for disability to help Steve keep the lights on and the water hot. That last little bit of hope that he could be what he used to be dies, but he's learning to be content with what he does have. He starts taking a walk, just ten minutes around the loop of the trailer park saying hi and trading polite nods with his fellow residents. He's not ok, but he's starting to build a new community of people not too different from himself.

The new trailer only has one bedroom. Eddie sleeps on a fold-out mattress in the living room. It had been a major argument when they first moved in with Steve insisting that Eddie needed the bed. Eddie argued that it wasn't fair for him to take the room when Steve was the one working 40 hours a week to keep them afloat. In the end, Eddie was the more stubborn of the two. It helps that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about crawling into bed with Steve on the nights when the couch bed really won't cut it for his aching body. Steve never questions it, just shuffles over a little and lets the other man in.

Steve doesn't question a lot of stuff.

He doesn't question when all their effects are shared between them with no effort to distinguish between yours and mine, Eddie's and Steve's. He doesn't question it four months in when Eddie starts to get his feet under him and decides to take up cooking, always trying his best to have everything done just as Steve walks through the door. He doesn't question when a good chunk of Eddie's first disability check goes to buying Steve a sturdy, if not very fashionable, new watch for his birthday since his old one went bust almost a year ago.

He doesn't question it when Eddie holds his hand for the first time under the stars hanging above their front porch.

He doesn't question it when Eddie introduces him to one of his new neighbor friends with a hand resting comfortably on his lower back

He doesn't question it when Eddie starts sleeping in the bedroom every night.

Or makes him box mix cupcakes for Valentine's Day.

Or kisses him for the first time on the couch that's never a bed unless they want to spend the day binge-watching bargain bin films.

Because really, isn't this how it was always going to go? Wasn't this exactly what Steve was asking for when he asked Eddie to skip town with him?

Isn't this what Eddie was hoping for when he said yes?

[pencil-n-pen]

Princess ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

leon kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until final’s season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.

next

cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?

Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leon’s very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wowee so i’m not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 here’s to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyone’s recovering well from finals!

— ‎ ‧₊˚ 𓂃౨ৎ

The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.

However. There were some… extenuating circumstances.

Finals. They’re a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.

You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the other’s resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your “no-fun attitude” but they’re crying over their grades and you’re not, so.

Well. Actually you’re definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because they’re bad. Just because you’re tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you can’t afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didn’t have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how you’re going to use your degree after you graduate and—

Most of the time you try not to think about it.

So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. You’re totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll come true?)

You don’t hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. It’s fun! It’s just… not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. You’d prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? You’re not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. It’s either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.

Needless to say, you weren’t exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. You’re not really sure how your friends convinced you.

But you’re here, in makeup and an outfit you like (you’re thankful this isn’t one of the ‘put on a tight dress and dance’ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. It’s a house party, so it’s not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties you’ve been (read: dragged) to, but still.

You’re on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isn’t starting to give you a headache.

Ada Wong, a girl you’ve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.

Leon Kennedy.

On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, he’s the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.

It’s complicated. You’re smart. He’s smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.

But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.

The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you can’t fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.

That and the fact that you haven’t sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? You’re sure the heart palpitations are normal.

You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couch— you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming late— so now you’re pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and he’s radiating heat like a furnace.

Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, he’s a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. It’s nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.

You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if you’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt? It’s cold!

You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.

Don’t fall asleep in public places.

Don’t fall asleep at someone’s house you don’t know.

You know the owner of the house, you think. You’ve been here once or twice. But you don’t know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because they’re not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, don’t let your friends down, don’t be that girl who falls asleep at the party, don’t—

You jolt again.

Wake up. You tell yourself. Leon’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.

It feels like a record skip. You’ll blink, and the conversation isn’t the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isn’t the same. Were the lights always this bright?

“Whew!” Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? “Someone’s got final’s exhaustion written all over their face!”

The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesn’t. Why isn’t he laughing?

You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leon’s.

“Sorr—“

“Stop that.” He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.

This is wrong. It’s Leon. It’s Leon. You can’t. And this is a party, and your friends are here—

“Stop being stupid,” You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. “Squeeze.”

You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like you’re slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get some—

“I can hear you thinking,” He says, voice deep and rumbly. It’s honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. It’s probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.

“You have a heart?” You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement

“Mhm,” He rumbles. “I am in possession of one. Great observation princess.”

You frown into his chest. “Why are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. I’m not a princess.”

“I’m not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.”

“Then how come you call me that?”

“Because,” He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position that’s more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.

It’s nice. It’s possessive. Protective. No one’s ever really done that for you before. Usually it’s you doing the protecting.

You don’t want to relax. You can’t. You can’t.

“Because,” He continues, “Princesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.”

You should get up. Apologize for how weird you’re being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isn’t this.

“Go to sleep,” He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. “Nothing‘s going to happen to you while I’m here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, I’ll kick their ass. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to give in after that.

You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with it’s strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent that’s distinctly Leon.

Just for a few minutes. Because Leon’s watching. He won’t let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. You’ll get up soon. You will.

He tucks you closer to him. “Sleep.”

You’re out like a light.

—

“No way, she’s actually asleep?”

“Holy shit Leon, did you drug her?”

“I did not.”

“Well, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. We’re all starting to get worried about her. She doesn’t take any breaks and she doesn’t let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means she’ll actually get some fucking sleep. It’s unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.”

“Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

—

It’s horrific, running into him in the library.

What makes it more horrible is the fact that you’re ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because it’s always empty. You’re ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.

You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.

“We’ve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.”

“Oh?” You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. “I wasn’t aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?”

He tilts his head. “Why the English textbook section? It’s one of your best subjects.”

“It’s the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isn’t going to bat an eye at me.” You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“One of your roommates called Ada. They said you haven’t been home since this morning. They thought you might’ve been at hers, or with me.”

You snort. “It’s like they don’t even know me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I think they were hoping you’d be there. I think anyone who knows you knew you’d be here.”

“Crying in the English section?”

“In the library, dumbass.”

He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

“Tell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?”

You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. “Dick.”

He shrugs. “Just want to know. I can’t exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if you’re not in top form. I want a fair fight.”

“Is that what you're here for?” You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” He says calmly. “I’m here because you’re being stupid again. You know what’s not healthy, or smart?”

He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. “This. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Where’s those brains you brag about?”

“They’re up here,” You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. “And they’re tired.”

You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You can’t help it. You’re just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. You’re tired of being tired.

“Annnd there it is. Come here.”

He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.

“Come on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.”

You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and think—

He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.

“There. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.”

You sniffle. “I’m getting snot on your sweatshirt.”

“It’s had worse on it.”

“Gross.”

You can practically feel the eye roll. “Can you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.”

You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.

“Why do you care if I feel better?”

Why do you care?

He shrugs against you.

“Told you,” He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. “My competition’s no fun if she’s not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?”

“I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you to swoop in here, Leon.”

“Mhm,” He says. “And i’m sure you do great at it, considering you’re still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this… self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.”

“Who taught you self care?”

“Ada. We have face mask nights.”

You jolt up. “Is she—“

“She’s not my girlfriend, we’re not fucking, no she’s not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.”

You begrudgingly settle back against him.

“If anything,” He continues. “She’ll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.”

You frown. “I never said—“

“You only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. It’s really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. It’s the way you dress.”

“How so?”

He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

“You wear your pick-me-up pants when you’re dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.”

You sit up with a gasp. “My hot pants?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you call them?”

Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. “Hold on. Did you just say—“

“I said what I said. I’m assuming there’s a reason you call them your hot pants.”

He smirks, and you flush.

“Moving onto more pressing matters,” He tilts his head at you. “You have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.”

“How did you know I like the—“

“The icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.”

You look up at him. “You remembered?”

“You were wearing your hot jeans.”

“You’re the worst.”

He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. “Maybe.”

You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.

“Nuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?”

You frown into his shoulder. “Ugh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Ocean’s movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.”

“I do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.”

“Ada bought those, didn’t she?”

“Nope,” He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. “Chris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.”

Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. “How many of my friends are you friends with?”

“I was friends with them first.”

“Ass.”

He chuckles incredulously. “For having friends?”

“Yes,” You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. “How dare you.”

“Mmm. I see. My apologies, princess. I’ll tell Chris and Ada.”

“You get on that.”

You can’t help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.

“Don’t touch my papers, I have a system.”

“Is the system absolute chaos?”

“Shut up.”

Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leon’s arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.

Your expression grows pinched. “I can carry my own bag, Leon.”

“I know you can.”

“Give me my bag.”

“No.”

You groan. “Why do you want to carry my bag?”

“See, there’s this thing called chivalry—“

“Oh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?”

He shrugs. “Ever since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mmm,” He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. “And you’re stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.”

You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.

Maybe you could get used to this.

masterlist | next part

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Mydei Headcanons

Mydei x gn! reader

cw: isolation, controlling relationship, overprotectiveness, paranoia, non-sexual and non-consensual spanking, leg injuring, mentions of non-con (Mydei thinks of it but doesn’t act on it), sexual coercion attempts/dub-con implications.

Beware of spoilers.

Don’t read it if you’re a minor!

Origins

You’re all good with Mydei until something happens to you—suddenly you’re a threat to yourself, or anything bad that there is becomes a threat to you as well.

—When Mydei first met you, he thought of you as capable enough of taking care of yourself. Not only did you know how to fight, you also had a mouth on you, one comparable to his. While it brought him trouble, he admired your strong will and an ability to stand up for yourself in this cruel world, even in front of someone like Mydei, and he eventually he let you close to him and form a relationship with.

His feelings of confidence towards your ability quickly started to change, after you got badly injured in the battle. Hearing about this felt like a hot whiplash on his back. It didn’t matter nothing has been happening to you so far until this point, and that you were still alive. This singular incident proved that there’s always an enemy stronger than you, a risk worse than you can manage and… his mother Gorgo was a great warrior too, only to meet a deadly fate in the end too.

Paranoid thoughts filled his mind, and soon, his feelings changed from pride for you, to the sense of anger at your willingness to expose yourself to so many risks of this world with how eager for the world and challenge taking you were. And only Mydei could protect you from these risks, taking on another burden. He needed you with him desperately, the only person that truly can get through him.

—You weren’t happy about any of this, of course. From being so free, to Mydei constantly checking on you, demanding answers, questioning your ability, scolding you; until you no longer were an autonomous person, but instead under his control he’d never dare to call something else than “guidance”.

How Mydei treats the situation

All this road along, he failed to realize he was protecting his feelings instead, more than you actually needed to be protected.

—With time, rules became stricter, until you no longer could leave outside without him. No matter how much not being able to fight was depressing to you, if it truly bothers you so much, while it hurt Mydei to cut your wings like this, all he’d tell you is that you could always have a sparring training with him. He’d rather let guilt eat him alive at night, than let you get yourself injured again. Mydei truly didn’t enjoy hurting you, but hurt was never avoided either.

—Mydei’s actions were fueled by his paranoia and fears, but he was still self aware about how this affects you—he just had to prioritize one over another, safety over happiness, but still balance your wellbeing somewhat as suffering wasn’t an option either.

If you were unhappy about something, he’d try to find a substitute for what you were lacking, which of course would never compare to the real deal—but the need to keep you safe was bigger than you being fully satisfied. He lost a lot of his tribe, he lost his mother, how can he lose someone he loves too? He learned from his lessons of being merciful towards the world. He’d be cruel towards his enemies, involuntarily cruel to you, but at least you were alive and safe.

—With his usual ways of dealing with problems being violence, a most straightforward and effective method, there was not much that Mydei wouldn’t do or much that would hold him back from doing bad things in your name—any threat to you would be immediately dealt with, even if it was meant to be more bloodshed. Just don’t look at him as if he’s a monster afterwards, or he’ll have to start making it a secret to keep away from you. Mydei had enough self-doubts after killing his own father.

Punishment

He loved you, but he’ll be strict if he needs to be. It was a matter of you forcing him to be.

—With what little freedom he puts you through and him not being entirely delirious, he’d try to be patient with you. He didn’t expect you to ever forgive him, knowing it’s difficult on you and that your life will never be really yours, even if your coldness towards forgiveness made him feel guilty… but he still chased your compliance and understanding, reminding you it’s about your safety. He’d give you time, but if you continue disregarding his orders and concerns for too long, he’d be forced to take measures he wouldn’t want to deliver onto you. He might hurt his enemies with ease, but hurting you was a last resort, as you didn’t cross him the same way his enemies would and naturally his affection held him back; so you’d have to push him really hard for him to finally make a decision, that perhaps this is his only chance.

—Constantly trying to run away and him always hunting you down, despite his warnings and small withdrawal of comforts from you as a punishment—Mydei didn’t know what else he could do to keep you in place, it’s enough for him to finally think that maybe only his usual way will work at this point.

He just wouldn’t make his violence as severe as he’d do towards a foe, considering you were meant to learn and were his love, not to be brutalized upon his anger. He needed something you can recover from, but something painful enough to leave you hesitant to misbehave again.

He didn’t enjoy putting you over his lap, he felt guilt hearing your cries and pain, to the point that he’ll hold you tight afterwards, for his own comfort too. However, that guilt was something that will gradually disappear if you shall repeat same attempts regardless of being punished. If you ever reach that point, you’ll be deemed just stupid and stubborn by him, and each spanking session will feel only right and not cruel anymore. If you choose to listen instead and stop running away, but still keep making other forms of disobedience towards his protection , such penalties will be rare, replaced with from simple harsh scolding to taking away your privileges (especially outside-related); all depending on the extent of the offense.

—In worst case possible, he’d simply chain you up or… hurt a leg or two so you can’t leave, but it’d have to be done after long months of you exposing yourself to the danger and ignoring his accumulating anger and anxiety. The injury wouldn’t be anything that would permanently disable you either, even if the pain of it would be unimaginable; but Mydei would make it clear to you, that you left him no choice, and that he’ll take a care of your legs as long as you listen to him now. If anything, you having to be dependent on him when recovering felt most relaxing for Mydei.

Living with Mydei:

You are his lover, no matter how much you might struggle. Let him keep some sense of normality with you.

—While your relationship could never be the same again, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to accommodate it to be about the same. What can be done only outside, he’d still let you, as long as you were leaving with him. You weren’t entirely a prisoner by him, it wasn’t really about locking you up but keeping you away from harm after all. However, this didn’t mean you’d be able to drag him everywhere. There were certain places deemed as more dangerous, but not even because of the threat, but his paranoia you’ll take advantage to escape again.

—When it came to his treatment towards you as your lover, he still offered you same affection or respite in his arms. The issue was, your eagerness was naturally disappearing, creating a distance between you two. It was something Mydei found hard to accept. Accepting this would mean accepting your defiance towards what he was doing for you. This would fuel the sense you’re being ungrateful. Even scarier was losing your love for him, and he was so scared of losing you.

That’s why sometimes he’d force that affection on you, but he loved the moments when you came to him even more; whether they were out of sentiment or you feeling down by your situation. He’d comfort you about everything as if it wasn’t his own doing, but something that simply needed to be done. And no matter how selfish it sounded, he wanted you to comfort him too, with Mydei behaving as if this situation affected him a lot too, especially when you were so disobedient and not understanding. He tended to make himself victimized without even realizing.

--If you snap at him because you have enough of living like this, he won’t be happy. He’ll try to be patient for first few moments, trying to comfort you still, but drag this on and he’ll snap at you too, maybe with a threat of punishment on his lips. That usually shuts you up. Mydei just wasn’t good at being vulnerable, and it was hard for him to sometimes understand your cries and handle your emotions, no matter how valid they were. You just made him even more guilty again, he just wanted to make you quiet, despite it being a runaway from the problem and not a solution to your growing resentment or depression.

But if you really need your space and can’t stop talking about it, he’d let you have it… just not without making it look like a problem for him, no matter how childish that may seem from him. Mydei was used to sleeping next to you.

—If you’ve been particularly well behaved recently, you’ll see his mood to get much better, even show some excitement at the prospect of having normalcy with you again. Living with him could become more bearable, as his positive mood keeps the atmosphere lighter, and him bit more lenient with you. Keep up the good work and he’ll reward you too.

—Mydei would never admit this to you, but he keeps dreaming about the idea of you becoming entirely dependent on him. No more struggle, and he gets to be your hero and feel assured in his sense of need for your protection. You clinging to him, coming to him willingly, telling him you need him, maybe even being scared of being away from your Mydei. Of course it’d mean you are far gone at this point, nothing like the person from the first meeting, and this state, he did not want you to reach. You would have tried to kill him after hearing his fantasy spoken aloud anyway.

Sexuality

There were things he wanted to do to you, he didn’t want you to know.

While Mydei still had enough decorum and self restraint to not force himself on you, especially aware of the pain it’d bring you and guilt for him, he couldn’t deny the fact he missed the pleasure and closeness your body used to bring him. It was hard to keep himself around you sometimes, especially with his strong emotions about the situation that needed the relief too or his need for your affection, but he managed when he thought of your possible pain.

It’s just his thoughts that started to go haywire after a while of controlling you like this. Mydei wouldn’t actually force you physically, but he kept having his “what if” thoughts and unwanted fantasies. Maybe if he was to do this, he’d enforce compliance onto you, with you crying, begging and promising him you’ll listen and stay. Maybe you’d be able to think about him only and not the outside world. Maybe it would remind you of what you two once had, that it still exists somewhere, and your begs would be for more this time.

Thankfully he was able to see it was just wishful thinking, and not act on these thoughts like a fool… at least for now. Mydei felt lonely in this situation too; you’d least expect it when he’s trying to seduce you again, perhaps by an attempt of forcing desperation into you with little sneaky touches during his affections or by instilling a sense of guilt with a reminder of how much he’s trying for you. Surely you needed to blow off some steam too anyway.

Final words

Living with Mydei doesn’t have to be most miserable, if you play your cards right and choose to accept his offer of safety. While you didn’t have a choice in a traditional sense, you had a choice to make a situation better for yourself and keep some normalcy and happiness leftovers—if you choose to try to understand his reasonings, because sadly, he won’t ever change his mind. Mydei wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone in your name, but he’d hate for you to ever blame him for it. He’d hate to hurt you even more, he constantly lived with the fear he was doing so and with that, had even more guilt to carry; yet it was all buried by the sense of duty to keep you safe, one driving him motivated enough to keep going in “protecting” you, even if it felt more like avoidance towards his own problems.

Accept him, and he’s your old Mydei… somewhat. Reject him, and now you two struggle.

[voxslays]

CAN WE BUILD A SNOWMAN? °˖➴

⤷ Featuring >>> Lucifer x Reader; In which, Reader takes it upon themselves to pull Luci out of his depression and into the cool winter snow. °•*⁀➷

It was a snowy winter morning, the first one of the season to be exact. Lucifer loved snow. It was his favorite type of weather back in heaven. Unfortunately, pride was usually too hot to get even a few inches of snow, so it was crazy that on one of the rare snowy mornings you hadn’t seen Lucifer at all. You knew Luce was still getting over the disappearance of Lillith…but that was seven years ago, and you were tired of him refusing to leave his room. So with a heavy heart, you knock on Lucifer’s door. “Luce…?” You call out hesitantly. 

After a moment of silence, you hear Lucifer sigh heavily from the other side of the door. The lock clicks open, and he stands in the doorway, his tall frame nearly blocking out the light from the hallway. He's still in his pajamas, his blonde hair slightly messy and his eyes tired but alert. “Good morning.” He doesn't respond, simply crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. His eyes, usually bright red, appear dull under the room's dim lighting. He's trying to give you the cold shoulder, but you know him far too well to fall for that.

“Aww c'mon…you know you want to smile.” His lips briefly twitch upward before he forces them into a frown again, looking over your shoulder at the snowflakes falling outside. "Is there a point to this early morning intrusion?" His voice is trying to maintain its usual smooth tone, but it comes out a bit more gruff than usual. “Have you looked outside? It’s snowing!” You squeal excitedly. His eyes light up despite his attempts to maintain his detached demeanor. Your smile has always been his weakness, the one thing that could make his cold heart flutter. "I can see that." He tries to sound nonchalant but fails miserably.

“C'mon please…?” You beg. He sighs heavily, pushing himself off the doorframe. His movements are slow and reluctant, but he eventually makes his way over to the window. "Fine. But only for a moment." He stands beside you, looking out at the snow-covered grounds of the Morningstar estate. “Yes!” You pump your fist in the air. “I’ll go get dressed.” You run off excitedly. Lucifer watches as you run off with a small smile playing at his lips. He quickly shuts the bedroom door and changes into warmer clothes, knowing full well he's been caught in your enthusiasm trap.

You dash into your room and quickly shut the door, throwing on a pair of jeans and a warm red winter coat, a color of which reminded you of Lucifer’s eyes. When you finish getting dressed into your proper winter attire and head into the foyer, he's already waiting for you. Idly standing by the front door, wearing a thick white coat and a matching crimson scarf. He looks up as you approach, his gaze lingering on the red of your coat for a moment before meeting your eyes. “You look great.” You say, admiring his elegance. He smirks, pulling on a pair of thick gloves. "You always say that." He opens the front door, revealing the winter wonderland outside. He steps out, turning to face you. "Are you ready to freeze?"

“Yes.” You chuckle. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he leads you out into the snow-covered grounds. The cold air hits you immediately, causing your breath to mist in the chilly air. "Alright, let's make a snowman." He says, already starting to roll a large snowball. As Luci rolls the ever growing snowball on the ground, you look at the surrounding scenery. The bright red sky and pentagram is a strong contrast to the fluffy white snow that now coats the ground. The usually hellish black trees are now covered in a layer of white frost. Hell truly has frozen over. 

Lucifer notices your distracted expression and follows your gaze to the wintery landscape. "Quite the sight, isn't it?" He stops rolling the snowball, brushing some snow off his gloves. "A different kind of hell than we're used to." He smirks. “Very different.” You say, gathering a spare black top hat and scarf, placing it onto the snowman Luci had just created. Lucifer chuckles, picking up a carrot and sticking it into the snowman's mouth. "Looks like we have ourselves a dapper snowman." He steps back to admire their handiwork, his breath visible in the cold air. "You know, it's almost...peaceful out here."

You laugh sweetly. “That’s until you go into the city.” He laughs with you, shaking his head. "True." He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to share his body heat. "But out here...it's just you and me." You smile warmly, your cheeks now red from the cold. “We should do this more often.” His expression softens, a smile gracing his lips. "I think I'd like that." He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cold-numbed lips. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with affection. "Let's go inside and warm up, okay?" He says gently. “Okay.” You roll your eyes playfully, following him inside, into the warmth of the Morningstar Palace.