#anaxadei

When you catch Anaxagoras by himself again, by the empty hall, you think maybe this is your chance. Now or never, what’s there to lose? Save for your dignity maybe, and the face you’ll have to be wearing whenever you look at him for the rest of your life— the more you think, the worse it gets. Each more possibility that crosses your mind is uglier than the previous and only mocks you further.

“Could I… ask you something?” The words leave your mouth and you mentally pat yourself on the shoulder. They got out just fine, you even sounded your professional voice! Alas, you scramble over the rest, like a broken dam, once your mouth has been opened, you cannot close it- call it nerves, the name of your executioner.

Stumbling over your words and overthinking out loud, he watches with confusion with a tilt of his head for a while- that is, until he takes pity on you and interrupts. Usually crossed arms now dropped to his sides, he says “Why don’t you ask me first and worry about the possibilities later?”

Were it not the predicament you’ve created for yourself and the awkward nature of your question, you could maybe even find him a tad amused in the moment, a slight glee to his voice. So you take a deep breath in, stop fiddling with your fingers and ask Anaxagoras if you can kiss him. Your worries only begin to grow the longer he remains silent- too deep in his endless train of thoughts spiraling that he didn’t realize he forgot to answer your question.

Meanwhile you’re going through several stages of death, anguish and every gut wrenching, souls wrecking, ‘May the gods hear my plea and open up a hole so I can jump right in and disappear from the face of earth’ wishing emotional turmoil possible- too caught up in your head to voice his eye wide open in surprise, his mind working at a speed rivaling yours in that moment.

He can barely react as you make a move to leave. Just as you mumble something falling to deaf ears and echoing against the lonely walls, turning on your heel to make your flee, he reaches out and grabs your wrist. Both of you stand frozen at the sudden contact, just staring at one another until he breaks the silence; saying just because he fell silent doesn’t imply he answered your question negatively.

It takes you by surprise, a ringing to your ears, a fog inside your skull maybe- it sounds unreal, unbelievable. Was it not for your wrist still in his hold, you’d be pinching yourself right now.

A moments breath passes, then another. Hands barely grazing his vest, you stand on your toes, with your movement, he moves in too, closing the space between the two of you quicker. A lithe kiss that barely touches, your breath on his lips tickles.

The kiss is small and shy ‘all that fuss and worrying for something this feeble?’ And you don’t know if this thought belongs to you or what you fear he thinks. So before you can worry any further, he leans in for the second time and kisses you properly. Any other thought, in that moment, ceases to exist.

Until one day too late when he’s not wearing his cape, shoulders uncovered and your face not anywhere near him during the whole walk does he realize, as you pause to take your glasses off and clean them with the hem of your shirt’s sleeve— his step still in the air, he connects the dots that you only ever do that while wearing glasses, sure there was a hint of sentimentality behind the action too but my primary goal was always something other than simply resting your chin and being close to him.

i just want you to know i was plagued by more thoughts and visions TO THIS DAY (june 4th.............. around 7am) blowing u up with my mind my revenge shall be glorious mark my words

info: anaxagoras/gn!reader. suggestive content if u squint ig......... i could make a wrote this w one hand joke but i shall reserve it for potential future stuff............. anyways.............

it comes so naturally, your mind never questions the whole... predicament the two of you are in. anaxagoras' presence brings forth something tender, a taste of nostalgia, a longing for the past.

sure, there are few nasty gossips revolving the heretic professor and the eccentric student who is yet to leave the grove but how can one pay a mind to any of those when such talented hands etch into your soul, gently scrub your skin with a care and love one yearns and looks for even after far into adulthood.

it feels... nice, to having been taken care of, to feel the warmth of another soul with you. and so it doesn't catch you off guard, nor does it make you jump, when he cradles you from behind, chest pressed against your back, feeling every bump and curve of his skin, the thin washcloth hangs low on his hips.

the water is warm but you feel nothing of it-- compared to how his breath fawns against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, the stimuli feels too much and like nothing at once, leaving behind a feeling of dizzyness.

the temperature of the water does not help your case at all, you presume. water coming straight from the source, it has to be cooled down manually. steam falls down in the stone bathroom but does nothing to hide your flushed faces. the cold of the stone bath does not make you jump but his hands do, when they trail just a little low, linger just a little longer than what's accepted as appropirate.

{ 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑜𝓃, 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 }

art by @/mzredart on vgen | dividers by @/diviniyae | please do not save or repost !

The sound of a door opening and closing gently courses through the air, the clink of the tiny bell above alerting the odd shop of newcomers.

A small space, crowded and burstling with trinkets, decorations, traces of years long lived memories and whatnot; the fresh eyes observe the place with sparkles in their eyes.

In the far back of the store, out of the eye, in a small corner by an intricate shelf sits two dolls, facing more each other than the outside world.

He does give up one day and ask why you do so when you’re not exactly particular on religions yourself. All his resolve down the drain, you can see absolute defeat in his face, the way his shoulders have dropped- he does look a tad more exhausted than his usual, maybe you should’ve been easier on the poor man for once.

Seeing you shrug nonchalantly was not on his list of possible answers for sure. As someone who respects his wishes and ways of order to go through with his day, that one particular thing had been nagging at him for a while now. Your demeanor now only makes it worse. With a huff, he rolls his eye, “You’re quite the walking contradiction yourself. Though I find it still up to debate whether it comes naturally or something you’ve carefully crafted over the years.”

ANOOOOOON PLEASE THIS IS SO CUUUUUUUTE 😭😭😭😭💞💞💞💞

i think modern au anaxadei definitely does that, sometimes at my cafe at the early opening hours. he has a habit of forgoing breakfast when he's too focused on work and studies so i have to drag his ass to a cute place for a nice breakfast and a break!! a healthy body makes for a healthy and happy brain!!!!! now eat and rest if you want to work at your full capacity you arrogant stubborn man!

croissants aside i think with the whole hellenoturkism (i think thats the proper name for it?? ) on days where we have no hurry, it'll be a wider spread breakfast with many variations of food and lots of lots of tea (one thing i haven't been able to pinpoint yet is if he would be an avid tea drinker like me even in summer.... it just hits different, i will revoke his balkan card if he wont down at least two glasses of hot freshly brewed tea first thing in the morning🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)