HOW AMPHOREUS MEN WAKE YOU UP IN THE MORNING۫ ꣑ৎ .
amphoreus men x gn!reader (separate) heavy with tender touching, innocent skinship, mild angst, sensual & fluff with plot. established relationship. not canon-compliant to the current amphoreus story, this is meant as my writing practice, but do enjoy reading!! [2.7k wc]
PHAINON
The mattress dips and you stir to the feeling of soft lips pecking you all over your face. The action remains gentle and innocently endearing. Mid morning’s breath is akin to a crooning lady, whispering secrets through the curtains and you stir again, cannot help but let out a faint noise in return,
“Phainon.”
You mutter, but he never ceases his endeavors. The softest touch of lips smear your face with traces of bouncy morning fondness and he noses the apple of your cheek affectionately, chuckling.
“Phainon,” you try again, scrunching your face so. “Release me.”
He pecks another kiss to your cheek, his big body hovering over you to peck another one to your lips, then another. You sigh after his fourth attempt, your cheeks heating due to his ministrations. When he leans down again, you press the palms of your hand on his mouth, this ceases his attention finally,
“Phainon, Lady Aglaea summons my presence and duties beckon for me—“
“Duties can wait for a little bit longer.” Phainon’s rasps stop you short.
Between the soft layer of Kephale’s dawn, you finally break from your sleepy stupor, staring languidly at the way the golden light from the open window carves a halo around his half-naked figure, his eyes crinkle when he notices you staring up at him.
“Hey, you.” He gently takes your hand into his rougher ones, pressing a tender kiss on your pulse in greeting. His mused-up white hair lay astray and bent in different directions all over his forehead.
“Stay for a moment, here with me.” he looks at you again. “Please?”
Titans, those big blue eyes of his…
“You know I can’t.” Your eyes drag towards the open window. “It’s already Lucid hour.”
Phainon’s face fell a little. “It’s been quite awhile since I had you in my arms like this. Can’t you spare my greed even just for a mere moment?”
It has been a long time since you were like this with him. Being Okhema’s destined deliverer and a prophesied hero does not spare him any free time for casual leisure, and even if he was granted with it—you wouldn’t be available, with the rising threat of the Black tide, you were busy tending to the citizens. If not, you were patrolling the Eternal City till Curtain-fall hour.
You reach out to hold his cheek, before slowly tugging him down so you can peck his forehead. You admit that you had missed Phainon just as much as he had to you. Your mattress—the smell of mint and cleanly-washed fabrics has long forgotten his scent of sunbaked and woodsy aroma that seems to accompany his very person. You’d reminisce and yearn for the familiar sheets to smell just like the sun, so you can at least pitifully imagine Phainon’s presence beside you whenever he would embark on another mission outside of Okhema.
When you pull away you playfully poke his cheek. “You’re pouting.”
His face does not lift at all. “Do you truly insist on leaving?”
You pondered and while you did, Phainon traced his hand up your wrist to your palms, interlacing both your fingers together. His rough-hewn palms feel so warm against your own, comforting almost, like a blanket.
“I suppose I can be late…” Phainon’s wide blue eyes perk up. “But, if I get an earful from my superiors, I trust that Okhema’s deliverer will come to my aid?”
Phainon laughs, a honey-like and sweet kind. “You needn’t ask a second time, however I'd appreciate it if you reward me with a kiss on the lips, perhaps?”
You sigh heavy, though it sounded more like a playful huff of air. “You greedy man.” despite your outward mutter, you wasted no time to curl your fingers behind his neck and pull him into your embrace, slotting your lips with his like a perfect puzzle piece and the white-haired hero hums a pleasant sound, one hand cradling your torso and the other crawling to your caress the bareness of your thighs.
This is certainly gonna be a very long day for the two of you, wrapped around in each other’s embraces like this. But for once you simply enjoyed the company of his presence.
MYDEIMOS
When you realize the warmth of his slumbering chest against the bare of your cheek, your eyes flutter, his quiet breaths stirring you.
You paid no heed to your bird’s nest of a hair, instead when you lift your head, your eyes immediately hang over Mydeimos, quietly watching as his roughened face with a scrunched brow sleeps heavy, his melted peachy hair muse like a lion’s mane. You let out a quiet breath, at least for the most part, he seems to be at ease…
A brush of sound tickles your ears, and at the edge of the tent—you feel a presence approaching.
“My lor—“
You pinned your gaze with the person and lifted a finger to your lips, signaling him to hush. Hephaestion blinks, before realizing that Mydei is fast asleep. The man nods his head, finally understanding what you meant and slowly ducks under the tent, making himself comfortable in the open space beside you, and you let him.
You hear a relieved sigh beside you, “I was worried the events of yesternight would deter his slumber.” Hephaestion spares you a kind look, “I’m glad you are around to help him.”
You shake your head. “You praise me too much.” Then, you gather your legs to your chest. “It seems like you lacked sleep, Hephaestion. If you feel any pain, I could perhaps conjure up a remedy for you…”
“I’m doing alright, please do not worry about my health.” He gazes back at Mydeimos, this time his eyes fill with the subtle of blues.
“No one…” he starts, hesitates, then swallows. “No one would be sleeping at peace knowing that Perdikkas—“ though his rasp stops there, he needn’t continue further for you to understand what he meant, the surrounding air hangs heavy after his statement.
Since Perdikkas died yesterday, no one in the Kremnoan Detachment was resting properly, everyone was brimming with grief and you can still remember the warmth of his blood staining your palms, trying your very best to stop how he continued to bleed all over the ground despite your efforts to heal him like how he had taught you.
He’s shot with a poison arrow, you can only do so much at that time.
You lift a hand and cradle Mydeimos’ cheek.
“Our prince should not have to witness such a thing.” You murmur and the man beside you hums in agreement.
“But you are aware that he would face even tougher battles in the future, especially against King Eurypon.” Hephaestion says, “if that day arrives, i want you to support him like how you always have.”
You look at him over your shoulder, “what about you?”
And he simply smiles, but you understand him even with just a single glance. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it till the end of this journey, especially with Perdikkas gone and his illness seems to be catching up with him…
“Hephaestion…” at your reluctant tone, he reaches out to pat your head, it was to reassure you but you feel nothing but the crushing weight of sadness in your chest.
“I’ll still be here. Anyways for now, I will tend to other matters.” He proceeds to stand. “Are you gonna remain here?”
You spare Mydeimos a look, your gaze softening like crushed herbs on mortar and pestle. No one, not even Hephaestion knew what had happened yesterday when you had reluctantly announced Perdikkas to be dead, his chest no longer moving. At that moment, Mydeimos, the exiled prince had his back pinned straight and a crown of halo settling behind the pinks of his hair shading the campfire.
He was immediate with his commands, he had told Leonnius to tell the others of what had transpired, leaving some of the aftermath to Hephaestion as he softly touched your shoulders and told you to leave Perdikkas’ corpse to Ptolemy and Peucesta. Your hands had a slight tremor when they hoisted his body from your arms and Mydeimos had slotted in the space beside you, his rough-hewn palms gathered into yours as he brought it to his lips and kissed each bloodied fingers so tenderly.
“I…Perdikkas, he…”
“Shh.” Mydeimos hushes you, softly cradling the back of your head and lets you lean on his shoulder. He’d consoled you as you softly weeped, and sure enough the entire night bleeds over and the quiet campfire has been extinguished as everyone somberly heads to their own tent.
You, however, could not sleep after feeling your friend die in your arms. Just when you were about to take a stroll, you heard the softest of weeps coming from the main tent—Mydeimos’ tent.
You would have given him the privacy, but when you hear the crumbled sobbing of Perdikkas’ name leaving his lips you cannot help the sorrow from bursting from your chest. When you reach his tent and softly call out his name, he doesn’t not hide his suffering. Nor does he pull away when you enter and immediately pull Mydeimos in your embrace like how he had a few hours ago, his tears felt hot on your shoulder and you held your own anguish.
“Shhh, hush now. Mydeimos.” You were the one reciting words to him now, and Mydei lets his hands fall on your torso until he fell asleep on your lap and you continued whispering words to him until daybreak.
Hephaestion calls out your name and you break from your revery. He looks at you with quiet concern and you simply give him the sweetest smile you can muster, “yes, i’ll remain here until he wakes.”
The man does not question you any further, but the smile he sent your way was that of relief. He bids you a short farewell and leaves you with Mydeimos where you softly caress his bangs and press a soft kiss to his forehead. I’ll remain here till my last breath if I must, so you have a shoulder to cry on, Mydeimos.
ANAXAGORAS
There’s a strong scent in the room along with the soft rustles of pen against paper. Your first instinct was to utter his name, a drunken slur and a yearning’s call.
“Anaxa?”
Despite such a whispered breath, the sound of writing ceases, and if you were more conscious, you would have realized your mistake of not calling him by his full name like how he usually preferred it to be, except what touched your ears was his deep voice, a little monotonous but gentle nonetheless.
“Did I wake you?” Anaxagoras asks and you merely stir in the sheets, his side of the mattress is still warm and smelled just like him—the soft aroma of something fruity. You settle your gaze on him, who never left the comfort of his chair and messy desk, after such a sight you cannot help but be petulant.
“…you promised me you wouldn’t meddle with your research.”
“Did I now?” He asks but his eyes remain plastered on his books and research.
“Anaxagoras.”
“Fine, fine. I heard you the first time, no need to call me again.”
He finally closes his books and turns to your direction, for a moment your anger almost concludes, for the confident and spiteful sage that everyone was used to seeing was now wearing nothing but a loose, white dress shirt and pants, his dark cape and embellishments, tight corset and gloves had forgo and a button or two from his dress shirt is open, showing the bareness of his pale chest, the one where a deep scar in the shape of a star could be seen. It's something that he rarely shows others, others but you, you remember him telling you one time.
You turn away and exhale in frustration, more to yourself than him for ogling, but Anaxa seems to take it a different way.
“Are you mad at me?”
You ponder softly. “A little, but if you truly need to finish what you need to do, then I won’t stop you.”
Then he’d sigh like he had lost a debate, finally standing from his seat, his footsteps a sharp resound. “If you word it like that, how can I focus knowing you are indeed mad at me?”
You cannot help but poke him a little. “Oh? The famous, strict professor from the Grove, worried about how I would feel?”
Anaxa gives you nothing but a deadpan, when he finally closes the distance, he reaches out and squishes both your cheeks with his hand. “Consider yourself lucky that I gave you the liberty to do as you please.”
Then, you were caught surprised when he unclasps his metal tie, letting the softest strands of sugarcane hair fall over his shoulder.
“What…what are you doing?”
Anaxagoras stands there in front of you for a moment, as if asking himself the same question. Another sigh from him, then he spins around and plops at the end of the mattress with crossed arms.
“Go on, play with it.”
You stayed there, awestruck. “With your…hair?”
The chains of his eyepatch jingle when he spares you a look over his shoulder, his pretty eyes of boysenberry and mint casting you a look. “You wish to play with it, no? Don’t think I never noticed how you constantly look at it with itching fingers, now go on before I change my mind.”
You try to hide the grin from your expression, but despite having only one functioning eye, it does not go unnoticed by the professor—you smile, and it’s the type that lingers as an aftertaste in his mind.
You smile at him with such sweetness, and for a mere moment, he wishes to covet such an expression. Your musings and reactions had always fascinated him to such a degree and now he cannot stop thinking of how your fingers feel, combing through the loose silks of his green hair.
The last time he let anyone touch his hair was when he was a young boy, at that time he was no professor nor was he a conversationalist, underneath the tree of his home city-state where he tinkered with the mechanical bird, his older sister would fashion his short hair, picking at the leaves that dare to fall on his head and comb through his soft locks.
Anaxagoras reminisced this moment briefly, he hums and unconsciously finds his hand wandering behind to touch your knees, where his fingers gently caressed the skin there as you quietly worked on his hair into complex knots.
The room hangs with a comforting silence, where you both drink in each other’s presence without the usual snarky words thrown at one another. It doesn't take long before your mood has been lifted and Anaxagoras’ hair is set into two pigtails interlaced with magenta ribbons.
He sighs quietly for the umpteenth time amidst your soft giggles.
“Feeling better?” He finally breaks the silence, but despite such a loose question, there’s a tone of endearment hidden between those words. In response, you’d press a gentle kiss at the back of his neck, sending soft shivers down his spine as you softly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, laying your head behind his neck.
“Better, sorry if I sounded demanding and pulled you away from work.” You try to peek at him but he has already turned his head over his shoulder, aware of how close both your faces are.
Looking at him like this, you could’ve sworn there was a smile…
“Well, it’s not like it’s important work.”
“Then, do you wanna lay back down with me?” You pat the empty spot of the mattress, Anaxagoras raises a brow.
“What?” You asked.
“I would ruin what you made.” He points towards his two pigtails. “Are you fine with that?”
“I can always redo them.” This made Anaxa’s face sour. But he’d comply with your wishes, again and again he does, at first it was because he wishes to see those cute expressions from you—but now, he wishes more of you than ever before. When you both lay on the bed again and you seemed to drift to sleep first, Anaxagoras raised his hand to slowly caress your cheek.
And for once in his life, he’d sleep at ease, knowing that when he awakens, you’d be there to greet him with a smile.
