GIVE ME MYDEI 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬
okay jokes aside hello choki ^^ i am here to gently and lovingly request a mydei fic from you…i’m kinda Bad at coming up with request ideas but. perhaps uhh reader is injured somehow?? what do we think happens 😳❓
I’M SORRY THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS I TOLD YOU I’M BAD AT THESEEE
mentions of injury, blood, but it’s not anything too serious, wc: ~530
a/n: MY DEAR MIRAAA I KNOW YOU REQUESTED THIS LITERAL WEEKS AGO BUT.. YOU KNOW 😓😓😓 i was initially going to write something really angsty but i do not have it in my heart to hurt mydei (also bc this ask is so unserious i had to follow suit 🙂↕️).. honestly he is so husband i need him to have my kids.
“... and then phainon turned in a blank essay! i don’t know, but that’s surely a brave thing to do in professor anaxa’s class.” you giggle. the kitchen is filled with all sorts of noises this evening— the subtly grating sound of knives against the cutting board, and something bubbling within a pot over the flames. with a ladle in his hand, mydei stirs, and the aroma of the spices immediately fills the air. “oh, it smells so good already!”
“hmph. he knew what he was walking into,” a hint of smugness bleeds into his voice. he’d let go of no opportunity to ridicule the deliverer. “he did this to himself.”
“that’s for sure, professor anaxa is—” you don’t feel the blade against your fingers until it is too late, and you wince, setting the knife aside. immediately, mydei turns down the flames and steps towards you. his hand wrapped around your wrist, he guides you to the sink and lets the water run.
“here,” he leaves your hand under the stream of water, brows slightly furrowed as he watches the red from your hand seeping into it, staining the sink a vivid shade. “stay like that for a bit, i’ll go and get the bandaids.”
“oh, you don’t have to! i can go fix myself up. the food might get ruined.”
you move to step away from the sink, but he is quicker— his hands find your wrist again, almost silently willing you to stay put. there’s something about his insistence that is undemanding, but reassuring all the same. “don’t worry about that; just tell me where you keep your medicine.”
“the box should be in the cabinet next to the couch.” the initial stinging shock of cool water subsides almost immediately. mydei disappears into the living room, and you can hear him shuffling around the cabinet. then, the sound of its door falling back into its place, and his footsteps approaching the kitchen.
it doesn’t take him long to return with the little box. you withdraw your hand from below the tap; you can feel the heat dissipating from your wounds a little too well, the skin around the cuts pruning up. “give me your hand.”
“it’s just a cut, i can handle it—”
“i’m sure you can.” he says, but his tone isn’t one of sarcasm or mockery he peels the bandaids in seemingly practiced motions, and takes your hand in his. he is so gentle, and so kind as he wraps them onto your fingers, and the whole act feels strangely raw and intimate— like a secret spoken in hushed tones and amidst giggles. one about mydeimos, the mighty prince of kremnos, slayer of a thousand men, and how he was currently bandaging the cuts on your fingers. “you’re always rushing when you talk.” he scolds, and you can’t help but smile.
“but you bandaged me up anyway!” your smile turns into laughter, and you pull him closer to you, placing the most featherlight kiss on his cheek. he’s flushed slightly red when you pull back.
“i’d do it for you, any day, my dear.” it was now your turn for the heat to climb into your cheeks.
“i— okay, let’s get back to making dinner! i am not sleeping hungry tonight!”
“not us, just me. i can’t have you cutting your fingers again.”