#Anaxa

[havanillas]

i think we should draw anaxa as sans more often

[leisomnium]

the blasphemous scholar 🌳✨

[threnodians]

@zzzenos

just a sketch

[22ayla21]

Imagine Amphoreus men who's very close to reader (and is secretly inlove hoho) but because of an incident that happen they thought they lost reader before they even had a chance to confess, but they suddenly came back, very much alive!

I was thinking about reader as part of kremnoan detachment to mydei's, then a childhood friend from aedes elysiae to phainon's and someone from the grove to anaxa (you can easily tell which incident i was talking about here hehe)

That's all thank you!

The Return of a Ghost from the Past

He thought he had lost her before he could even confess, but years later, he found her alive and well.

The rain poured as if the sky was weeping for those long taken by war. Mydei stood on the edge of Okhema, watching his people slowly settle into their new home. Kremnos was left behind—along with its bloody traditions and shadows of the past. But the shadows of the past never truly go away.

He pulled up the hood of his cloak, hiding his face from the wind, and headed down the winding streets, where the scent of fresh wood and wet earth still lingered. Okhema was different—warm, full of life, unlike the harsh Kremnos. Here, no one feared each other, no one plotted for power.

And yet, even here, in a foreign land, his past found him.

Her voice echoed like a long-gone day.

"I never thought I'd meet you here, Mydei."

He froze. That voice. Clear, ringing, but imbued with the same weariness as his own. He slowly turned around.

She stood before him—as defiant as ever. The face he remembered in minute detail had changed slightly—sharper cheekbones, scars that weren't there before. But the eyes... Those same eyes that once looked at him with the confidence of a comrade, and then disappeared in the bloody chaos of war.

"...You're dead," he breathed, unable to find other words. She smirked, crossing her arms.

"As you can see, I'm not."

Years of training, iron self-control—all vanished in an instant. He stepped forward but froze, unsure if he had the right to touch her.

"I... I looked for you. I mourned you."

"And I survived," her voice softened. "I woke up among strangers, weak, with no memory. I returned to life—but not the one I had."

Mydei clenched his fists. He wanted to ask why she hadn't looked for him. Why she hadn't come. Why she left him in the dark. But he knew the answer. War left no room for farewells.

"I should have told you... back then," he looked up at her. "I loved you."

She froze, then smiled—softly, sadly.

"I know."

Mydei took a step closer, and this time she didn't pull away.

Anaxa always considered himself a man of logic, but even logic couldn't help him accept the loss. She disappeared the day the Dark Current engulfed everything. Many scholars were scattered, and he was left among the survivors, not even able to reach her. He thought he had lost her forever.

He never got to tell her.

Now, some time later, he and the remaining scholars lived in Okhema—a new home, a refuge after the fall of the Grove of Muses. The world was no longer the same, but they tried to live on as best they could. Anaxa immersed himself in research, allowing himself to believe that reason would conquer chaos.

But, as it turned out, fate had something more than cold acceptance in store for him.

He saw her by chance.

That day, he was walking through the market stalls of Okhema, lost in thought. And suddenly, his gaze caught a familiar silhouette. Hair, gait, even the habit of lightly touching her chin when she was thinking.

It's impossible.

But his body moved faster than his mind.

"…You…" The words caught in his throat. She turned around.

In that moment, his whole world seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened, and her face reflected shock.

"Anaxa?"

That voice. So alive, so real.

And he didn't think anymore. He didn't analyze, didn't look for a logical explanation. He just stepped forward and hugged her tightly, not giving her a second to disappear again.

She froze in his arms before returning the embrace.

"I thought you were…" she swallowed.

"And I thought I had lost you," his voice was hoarse, barely holding back too many emotions. "How? How did you survive?"

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes.

"It's a long story. I... I fell into a rift. I woke up far from where the Dark Current caught us. I was found and cared for... but there was no way back. Until I found my way to Okhema."

She spoke, but he barely heard the words. Because the only thing that mattered was that she was here. Alive.

He looked at her, and only one question spun in his head: should he tell her now? He had carried it inside for so many years, allowing time and loss to extinguish the fire that once burned in his chest. But now that fire burned brighter than ever. And he wasn't going to lose her again.

Phainon never forgot her.

Memories of childhood, of the village of Aedes Elysiae, where he grew up under the care of his grandparents, were warm but also filled with pain. Because on the day the Dark Current fell upon his home, he lost everything. He lost his family, he lost Cyrena... and he lost her.

She was his friend, the one he shared his dreams with, the one who laughed at his antics and supported him when he stumbled. He never got to tell her how he felt. He thought he had his whole life ahead of him, but fate decreed otherwise.

When he became The Chrysos Heir, his heart didn't let go of the pain of loss. He vowed to cleanse this world of the threat that took his home and loved ones. He saw darkness, burned it with the light of his will... but the past could not be returned.

And then, in Okhema, he saw her.

Amidst the human bustle, somewhere in the distance, for just a second, he noticed a familiar silhouette. Phainon stopped. His heart skipped a beat.

No... impossible...

He couldn't help but follow her. He pushed through the crowd, not caring about the path, ignoring those around him. His mind screamed that it was a mistake, that it was just a trick of his consciousness, which had been searching for her face among strangers for so many years.

But when he was close, when her eyes met his... the world froze.

"You..."

She had changed, matured, but her gaze was the same. She looked at him first with confusion, then her eyes widened in shock.

"Phainon?"

He couldn't speak. His throat was dry. It was unreal, impossible.

"But how... You... you're alive?"

She stepped towards him, and he, as if in a trance, reached out, afraid it was an illusion, that she would dissolve like all his dreams. But her fingers touched his, warm, real.

"I thought I had lost you..." his voice was hoarse, full of emotions he had been trying to suppress all these years. She shuddered, and her lips trembled into a smile.

"And I thought I had lost you..."

They stood there, amidst the noisy city, not hearing a single sound around them. Years had passed, but they still remembered each other. And perhaps now he would have a chance to say what he never got to say back then.

[zinccie]

someday there will be peace. but now you’re dead

[rot-to-the-core]

i need them to interact. do you see the vision

[anaxacannibalau]

“Demised indeed.”

The Demised Scholar

[heliosunny]

Ooh so I had a dream that Anaxa was my academic rival. He was relatively standoffish so I figured he disliked me since we only spoke when necessary. I didn’t mind since that meant i could do my introvert things and focus on research. But when we were forced to work together he slowly and methodically over time showed his true colours as a yearning yandere 😳 like he was obsessed but super cunning!

I’m excited to see what he’s like in game! Lol

Yandere!Anaxa x Reader

Scratch. Scratch.

The steady rhythm of pens against papers filled the research hall, a quiet symphony of intellect in motion. The air was thick with the weight of concentration, punctuated only by the occasional murmur of scholars trading theories, the rustle of turned pages.

And then, Anaxa sat down beside you.

You didn’t react immediately. He was always like this—silent, only engaging when necessary. If he had his way, the two of you would exchange no more than a few words, and that was fine with you.

Except this time, there was no avoiding him. Collaboration was mandatory.

“I don’t like group projects” he said.

“Then don’t slow me down.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “If anything, you’d be the one struggling to keep up.”

“Then let’s not waste time.”

The first task was simple: gather the necessary data, record findings, and return for analysis. Simple in theory, at least.

You had expected this to be a tedious affair, given Anaxa’s usual standoffish nature. Instead, you found yourself standing slightly behind him, quill in hand, watching as he effortlessly extracted information from people as though it was second nature to him.

With scholars, he was sharp and direct, threading his questions in a way that made them eager to prove themselves. With common folk, he was almost… charming, casual yet undeniably persuasive. You had seen him argue in academic settings before—blunt, efficient, never wasting words—but this was different.

You, in contrast, played the role of a secretary, silently noting down everything while he worked.

“I can feel you staring.”

You scoffed and focused back on your notes. “I’m just writing.”

By the time you had gathered everything, the sky had long since darkened.

“Here,” you said, handing him the notes. “We can continue analyzing everything tomorrow.”

Anaxa took them without a word, his fingers brushing against yours.

“…See you tomorrow then”

The next day, Anaxa arrived as usual. But something felt… off.

The way he sat down, just a fraction slower than normal. The faint rigidity in his posture, as if he were forcing himself to act as though nothing was wrong. But you weren’t blind.

You turned slightly toward him, frowning. “You’re warm.”

“I didn’t realize you made a habit of checking my temperature.”

You ignored his teasing and pressed the back of your hand lightly against his forehead. The heat radiating from his skin was undeniable.

“You’re burning up” you muttered. “Why are you even here?”

“I can handle it,” he replied smoothly, pulling back from your touch. “We have work to do.”

You gave him a look but didn’t push further. If he wanted to be stubborn, fine. It wasn’t your problem.

So, you carried on.

At least, until he collapsed.

One moment, he was beside you, the next, his hand slipped, his quill clattering to the floor, and before you could react, he was tipping forward.

“Anaxa—”

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. He was burning. The room buzzed with hushed voices, but you barely registered them as you adjusted your hold on him.

“You idiot” you muttered under your breath, shifting your grip.

The school nurse didn’t seem particularly alarmed—apparently, scholars pushing themselves to the brink wasn’t uncommon. Still, she instructed you to stay with him until he woke, citing that you were his research partner and therefore the most convenient choice.

You sighed but didn’t argue. It wasn’t like you were going to waste time.

Settling into the chair beside the infirmary bed, you placed your research materials on your lap. If you had to stay, you might as well be productive.

Beside you, Anaxa stirred faintly in his fevered sleep.

You shook your head, refocusing on your work.

It wasn’t your problem. Right?

By the time Anaxa stirred awake, you had already finished reviewing and organizing the research data.

“…You stayed?”

“The teacher asked me to” you replied, stretching slightly from your prolonged stillness. “Lucky for you, I got everything sorted while waiting. You don’t have to worry about today’s work.”

“I see,” he muttered before sighing. “I’ll make it up to you. I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”

“It’s fine. If it’s you, you would’ve finished it without needing my help anyway.”

He huffed a small laugh at that, shaking his head slightly. “Still. Let me repay you somehow.”

You didn’t bother arguing further. If Anaxa wanted to do something in return, he would, regardless of what you said.

The walk to his home was quiet, the evening air carrying a gentle chill. He insisted he was fine, but you weren’t about to let him wander off after collapsing just hours ago. At least not until he was behind his own door.

When you reached his residence, you stopped at the threshold, waiting for him to step inside.

“Go rest” you instructed simply.

Anaxa leaned against the doorway, tilting his head at you with something unreadable in his gaze.

“I will,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

You turned, heading home without a second thought.

The moment the door shut behind him, Anaxa exhaled, letting his carefully constructed mask slip just enough for a glimmer of satisfaction to creep in.

His plan had succeeded.

A fever induced on purpose, a minor sacrifice to buy uninterrupted time with you. To measure your worth.

It had been worth every moment of discomfort.

He wasn’t fully recovered yet, but that didn’t matter. He felt good. Good enough to return tomorrow.

After all, there was still more to do.

The next day, Anaxa arrived in class looking perfectly fine. Or at least, that’s what you assumed.

As you went over the next steps of your research, he sat across from you, quill in hand, but his usual sharp attentiveness was… lacking. His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if his thoughts were miles away.

You frowned, tapping your fingers against the table. “Anaxa.”

“Yes?”

You squinted. “Were you even listening?”

His lips parted slightly as if to deny it, but judging by your unimpressed stare, he knew better than to lie.

“…Not entirely” he admitted.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Alright, I’ll explain it again. This time, try to keep up.”

Anaxa nodded, but as you began your explanation once more, his mind refused to cooperate.

Focus. That was all he needed to do. He was no stranger to deep concentration, to immersing himself in the pursuit of knowledge.

But right now, his mind was full of you.

The way you gestured slightly while explaining, the way your brows knitted in mild frustration, the way your lips moved with certainty,...

I should pull myself together. This research is more important. It’s an opportunity to prove myself, to push boundaries, to—

But then there was you. You, who sat right in front of him, completely unaware of how maddening you were.

His jaw tensed slightly. How frustrating.

By the end of the day, Anaxa had agreed with nearly everything you proposed, his input far less argumentative than usual.

You had chalked it up to discomfort. Maybe he was still feeling unwell, maybe he hadn’t fully recovered from the fever, maybe he was simply tired.

But the truth was far from that.

It wasn’t his discomfort that affected him—it was you.

---

Anaxa was absent the next day.

Instead, one of his acquaintances approached you between classes, delivering his message: “Anaxa said to come to his place for today’s work.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

To his credit, working with Anaxa was nothing short of effective.

Most groups would still be figuring out the framework of their research, yet the two of you were already halfway done.

It was almost funny—should you be relieved that you had been paired with one of the top scholars, or irritated that it happened to be him, your long-standing rival?

Yet, oddly enough… these past few days hadn’t been unpleasant.

Maybe, just maybe, he was only unbearable when he was off on his own, doing things his own way. When he worked with you, the process was smooth, methodical, efficient.

After class, you made your way to his home as requested. Anaxa had the workspace neatly prepared, his focus unwavering as you both spent the evening finalizing key points. Hours passed without notice, the ticking of the clock drowned out by the steady rhythm of progress.

When you finally checked the time, you realized it was late.

You gathered your things, stretching slightly. “I should get going.”

Anaxa, who had been reviewing some notes, didn’t look up immediately. “It’s late,” he said, as if that was reason enough for you to stay.

“I can handle a walk home.”

“Stay the night. It’s safer.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then—

The news broadcasting on the TV got your attention.

…Due to unforeseen incidents, residents are strongly advised to avoid traveling at this hour. Increased security presence will remain active throughout the night…

You frowned. Perfect timing.

“It seems you have no choice.”

“Alright, fine. Just for the night.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, “I’ll get you something to drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at his unusual hospitality but didn’t comment. Instead, you took a slow glance around his home, properly observing the space for the first time.

It was… neat. Impeccably so.

Not surprising.

In the kitchen, out of your line of sight, Anaxa exhaled slowly.

He hadn’t expected his plan to work this perfectly. Sure, he had anticipated a high chance of you staying if he played his cards right—but to have the news itself provide the final push?

Fate must have been on his side tonight.

As he prepared your drink, his mind wandered—as it often did these days—back to you. The way you worked seamlessly alongside him. The way you challenged him without hesitation. The way your presence had become an unshakable fixation in his thoughts, leaving no room for anything else.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

This night was an opportunity. A rare chance to further deepen the dynamic between you two.

By the time he returned to the living room, his expression was composed.

You glanced at him as he handed you the drink. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Despite the circumstances, the night carried on as usual. Research, discussions, debates—it was a cycle you had grown accustomed to. But tonight, something felt… different.

Every now and then, Anaxa’s hand would graze yours when reaching for a paper. His shoulder would brush against you as he leaned over to reference something. A brief touch at your wrist when handing you a pen.

You weren’t sure if it was intentional or simply a consequence of working so closely, but every time it happened, it sent a strange awareness through you.

“I’ll make something to eat.”

The meal was surprisingly good—not extravagant, but warm and filling. You finished quickly, eager to make more progress.

By the time you looked at the clock again, it was terribly late.

Too late to be working, really, but neither of you were the type to leave things unfinished.

It was only when exhaustion started creeping in that Anaxa finally spoke.

“You should sleep.”

“Yeah, I probably should. I’ll just—”

“I’ll take the floor. You can have the bed.”

“That’s unnecessary. It’s your bed.”

“You’re the guest.”

“That’s not—”

“Are we really arguing about this?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, glaring slightly at the sheer stubbornness in his tone.

In the end, you reluctantly took the bed, if only because you knew Anaxa would not let this go otherwise.

Though the bed was comfortable, sleep didn’t come immediately.

You turned slightly, peeking over the edge to see Anaxa lying on a mattress on the floor. His eyes were still open, faintly illuminated by the dim light in the room.

“We should see the professor tomorrow,” he murmured, “Get their input on our progress.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment.

“We’ve gotten further than expected. Not that I doubted it.”

Another hum.

Then silence.

He waited for you to respond again, but when nothing came, he tilted his head slightly—only to find you already fast asleep.

For a long moment, he simply watched.

The even rise and fall of your breathing. The way your features softened in sleep.

This—this was rare.

With one last glance, he closed his eyes.

Tonight, at least, he could rest easy.

----

You should’ve known nothing would go in your favor forever.

When you received the professor’s feedback, the document was marked with more corrections than you anticipated. Whole sections needed restructuring, some data needed refinement, and a few parts—ones you were sure were solid—had to be completely rewritten.

Your fingers tightened around the papers as you skimmed through them again. This wasn’t bad per se—you still had plenty of time to make adjustments—but the sheer volume of work made your mood plummet.

Anaxa, on the other hand, remained unreadable as he flipped through the notes.

“You look like someone just told you the world was ending”

You shot him a glare. “Forgive me for being disappointed that we basically have to rewrite half of our research.”

“We have time. Figuring these out now is better than later.”

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temple. He wasn’t wrong. You just weren’t in the mood to hear it from him.

Before you could dive back into overanalyzing the feedback, Anaxa leaned back in his seat, regarding you with a slightly tilted head.

“You need a break.”

“What?”

“Let’s go somewhere else. Relax your mind.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Relax? With someone like you?”

“Why not?”

“You don’t exactly scream ‘relaxation’”

“I’m not a machine, you know.”

Debatable.

But still, as much as you hated to admit it, maybe a distraction wouldn’t be the worst idea. You had been staring at research papers for hours, and your frustration would only make it harder to focus.

“…Fine,” you muttered, standing up. “Where did you have in mind?”

Anaxa smirked. “The park.”

The idea was simple: a quiet walk, fresh air, a moment away from academic stress.

The unfortunate reality?

The sky had other plans.

What started as a slight drizzle quickly turned into a full downpour.

You and Anaxa were still several minutes away from any proper shelter when the rain came crashing down. Neither of you had thought to bring an umbrella, and within moments, you were both completely soaked.

“Great,” you muttered, shaking off excess water from your sleeves. “Just great.”

Anaxa, to his credit, seemed unbothered, running a hand through his now-drenched hair before nodding towards a nearby structure—an old, empty bus stop.

“Come on.”

You didn’t hesitate, dashing under the small roof, though the wind still sent cold droplets clinging to your skin. You shivered slightly, rubbing your arms for warmth.

Anaxa glanced at you, his own clothes dripping, before casually undoing the top buttons of his soaked shirt.

You looked away. “You couldn’t have checked the weather before suggesting this?”

“Oh? Now it’s my fault?”

You huffed, exasperated. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Despite the misfortune, there was something almost ridiculous about the situation. Just you and your rival, stuck in a downpour, drenched to the bone, forced to wait it out together.

“How long do you think this will last?”

Anaxa leaned against the cold metal pole of the bus stop, his eyes glinting in amusement as he smirked.

“I suppose we’ll have to find out.”

The rain didn’t let up for nearly half an hour.

Eventually, when the skies finally cleared, he walked you home.

You were tired, cold, and utterly done with the day—but what you didn’t expect was that this little misadventure would come back to bite you.

You should have known.

Between being drenched in the rain and already being exhausted from research, it was inevitable. By the next morning, you were miserable.

Your body ached, your throat was scratchy, and just lifting your head felt like a monumental effort.

With no choice but to stay in bed, you barely had the energy to process the fact that someone was knocking at your door.

You dragged yourself up, shuffled to the entrance, and opened it—only to see Anaxa standing there, holding a neatly compiled stack of papers.

“…I see you caught it” he mused, stepping inside uninvited.

You groaned. “You—this is your fault.”

“Perhaps. But don’t worry—I’ll take responsibility.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that until he set down the papers, rolled up his sleeves, and immediately started doing everything in your place.

He cleaned up, cooked a warm meal, fed you, and before you could protest, tucked you into bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You wanted to argue. You really did.

But the warmth of the blanket, combined with exhaustion, made it impossible to resist sleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you stirred.

Your fever had gone down slightly, enough for you to shift around without feeling like your limbs weighed a ton. But as you turned, you noticed something… off.

Anaxa was lying next to you.

For a moment, you thought you were imagining things. But no—he was actually there, asleep beside you.

You had no memory of this happening. Did he stay to keep watch? Did he lie down and accidentally fall asleep?

You sat up carefully, intending to move him to a proper bed, but—he was heavy.

Before you could figure out what to do, he stirred.

“…What are you doing?”

“I was going to—uh, move you.”

Anaxa exhaled softly, closing his eyes again. “Too late for that.”

“…Fine.”

Resigned, you gave up and lay back down.

When you woke up, there was no alarm. No rush to get up.

It was a day off.

For once, you had the luxury of sleeping in.

But as you stirred, you realized something far more shocking.

Your head was resting against Anaxa’s chest.

Your mind went blank for a second before you carefully, very carefully, tried to move away.

“…Going somewhere?”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

----

The next week flew by in a blur.

You and Anaxa polished your research, made the necessary revisions, and finally handed it in.

The results came back excellent. High marks. Praise from the professor. A complete success.

This meant one thing: no more group work.

You were relieved. No more Anaxa. No more of his annoyingly efficient work ethic, no more subtle brushes of contact, no more unexpected moments of domestic care.

You were fine with it.

Anaxa, however, was not.

The moment the research project ended, Anaxa felt a strange, suffocating emptiness.

No more long nights of working together. No more excuses to linger at your place. No more seeing your little expressions of focus, frustration, or amusement at his dry remarks.

It was unacceptable.

You might have been fine with moving on, but he wasn’t.

Which meant—he would have to change that.

He needed a reason for you to come back to him. A reason you couldn't ignore.

A few days later, you received an urgent message from a faculty assistant.

The professor wanted to see you.

You went to their office, only to be met with a look of concern.

"I need to speak with you about your research paper" the professor said.

"Is something wrong?"

"There's been an issue. A section of your research was flagged—it seems there's a discrepancy in the data. Anaxa was the one who noticed it and reported it. He suggested reviewing the findings together."

A discrepancy? But that didn’t make sense! You had double-checked everything. Hadn’t you?

"Since you two worked on it together, I’d like you to resolve this matter with him before we take further action," the professor continued. "He's already waiting for you in the library."

With no other choice, you left the office and made your way to the library.

When you arrived, Anaxa was already seated, flipping through your research.

"Finally here?"

You sat down, exhaling sharply. "I heard you found a mistake."

He tilted his head slightly, tapping the paper with his fingers. "It’s subtle, but yes. A slight inconsistency. I figured we should fix it together before the professor takes further action."

You frowned, leaning over to read where he was pointing.

By the time you were finished, there were no remaining "errors" in your research. The professor thanked both of you, and that should have been the end of it.

Except it wasn’t.

If anything, Anaxa had wormed his way deeper into your life.

You started noticing it in class—the way you kept running into him more often than before.

He always sat near you now. Always seemed to already be there whenever you arrived. You just noticed the way he casually pulled out a chair beside him and glanced at you, as if it were already decided you’d sit there. The way he always had an extra copy of the day’s notes, ready in hand before you even asked. The way he spoke about things he shouldn’t know about—little details about your schedule, your habits, things you were sure you hadn’t told him.

It was as if he had memorized your life without you realizing it.

One evening, you were packing up after class when Anaxa leaned against your desk.

"You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?"

"Why?"

"Because," he said smoothly, "we’re going out."

"Since when?"

"Since now," he replied. "I already planned it."

"You didn't even ask if I wanted to."

"You would’ve said no. I’m not giving you a choice," he added, tilting his head slightly. "Not when you spend so much time avoiding me these days."

"I don’t—"

"You do."

"I’ve been generous so far," he murmured. "Letting things happen naturally. But I think I’ve waited long enough."

You weren’t going to agree. That was your initial instinct—to push back, to tell Anaxa you had better things to do.

But he had already anticipated that.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it sound like a secret only for you.

"Come on," he murmured, "You owe me."

"For what?"

"For catching your mistake in our research. You wouldn’t want an academic scandal, would you?"

"That’s a low move, even for you."

Anaxa just smiled, "Is it?" he said, "Or is it just a reasonable exchange?"

You scowled, but before you could say anything, he continued.

"Besides," he added, "you’ve been stressed lately. I can see it."

"You barely take breaks," he continued, "Always pushing yourself, overworking, barely sleeping. It’s a wonder you haven’t collapsed yet."

"I’m just looking out for you," he murmured. "A little outing won’t kill you."

You hesitated.

Logically, you knew he was playing you. He was twisting the situation to make you feel obligated.

But… was he wrong?

You sighed.

"Fine..."

----

Anaxa left the classroom that day with a sense of satisfaction coiling deep in his chest.

That was too easy.

A little pressure, a well-placed guilt trip, a carefully crafted excuse—and you caved.

You always acted so guarded, so wary. But all he had to do was find the right buttons to push.

And he did.

It was just one step closer.

One step closer to making sure you’d never pull away from him again.

It started with one mistake.

At first, you thought nothing of it—just a lapse in focus, a careless slip. Everyone had bad days. Perhaps you had been tired, overworked, or maybe distracted. It was bound to happen.

But then it happened again.

And again.

Your academic performance began to plummet.

It made no sense. You were always meticulous, always double-checking your work. But now—now your answers weren’t what you remembered writing. Numbers and formulas were off. Essays you swore were polished came back with errors you had no recollection of making.

You frowned at your latest assignment, your hands tightening around the graded paper. A sinking feeling settled in your gut as you stared at the corrections—mistakes that didn’t feel like yours.

This… this wasn’t just random errors.

Something was wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t pinpoint what.

The frustration began to eat away at you, leaving you restless, anxious, and second-guessing yourself.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you placed your assignment on the desk in front of you. Another disappointing grade.

“You’re overthinking again.”

You flinched slightly at the familiar voice.

“I don’t get it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I checked everything. How did I mess up?”

“Maybe you’re just tired,” he said. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

That had crossed your mind before, but… something still felt off.

“Can you check it for me?”

“Of course”

The more you struggled, the more you needed him.

At first, it was small things—him offering advice, fixing your mistakes, guiding your hand. But over time, it became more than that.

He was always there, always soothing you when frustration built up. Reassuring you when doubt clouded your mind.

"You can’t keep going like this," he murmured one evening, after yet another failed attempt at solving a problem. "Let me take care of it."

It was easier to rely on him.

You didn’t notice at first, but others gradually became distant.

The subtle way he redirected conversations, the way your interactions with classmates grew shorter and less meaningful. Like he had woven an invisible web around you—one that no one else could penetrate.

And by the time you realized it, it was already too late.

One evening, as you sat together reviewing notes, Anaxa spoke casually.

"Everyone else is unnecessary," he said, flipping a page with ease. "Only we matter."

----

One evening, while Anaxa was out, you found his notebook.

At first, you assumed it was just another research journal. But as you flipped through the pages, your blood ran cold.

Every page was about you.

Your schedule, your habits—things he shouldn’t have known.

What time you usually woke up. What days you skipped meals. What places you went to alone.

And then— How long you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Every detail was written in precise, calculated handwriting.

Your hands shook as you clutched the book, realization slamming into you like a tidal wave.

You needed to leave.

Now.

"Going somewhere?"

"I—I need to—"

"You look pale," he interrupted, "Are you feeling unwell?"

"I—I’m fine...I just…"

Before you could finish, a sharp prick bloomed against your skin.

"You’re just exhausted. You need rest."

When you woke up, the notebook was gone.

Anaxa sat beside you, his expression calm, almost concerned.

"You were having a nightmare" he murmured, brushing a hand over your forehead.

"You were muttering in your sleep," he continued, "Tossing and turning. It must have been… unsettling."

The notebook. The pages. The proof—

But there was nothing.

"Don’t worry" Anaxa whispered, "It was just a dream."

That’s all it was.

[soarien]

anaxa

[birdsofpasssage]

[threnodians]

@zzzenos

Huge fan of how they gave this guy a bigass gun

[maplleaf]

Time

Anaxa x reader

Tags: angst, sweetbitter

Note: Hello kitty pajamas girl or goth femboy? Hmm decisions decisions. The goth femboy is one of the...you know, shit's SPICY .

Jokes aside, i love him. Idc if he gets nerved 100 times, i will roll for him and his lc

The words most people first know about a certain sage of the Grove is to call him by his full name of Anaxagoras, even so no one seems to take it seriously. The man himself doesn't even correct people most of the time.

So the question remained, why even bother telling people to call him by his full name?

If they ask Tribbie, she'll smile and tell them to ask him themselves. If they ask any of the chrysos heirs, they'll tell them to ask Tribbie. Don't even bother asking Lady Aglea.

If someone asked him that head on, he'll scoff and shove away the question. Then he'll see those people leave disappointed before letting out a sigh as a memory comes to mind.

"Anaxagoras."

The young student looked at the other, who suddenly called his name. Both of you were shaded under the thick and heavy leaves, only traces of light managed to hit your face, but leaving him completely in the dark.

Back then, everything was simpler. The biggest worry he had was the next test. He remembered clearly reading a book you recommended to him, even if it's fiction.

"Why do people not call you by that?" you asked, leaning back against the thick branch.

Anaxa's brows furrowed in confusion, "have you heard me getting called by a different name?"

A groan escaped your throat, "That's not what i meant." You adjusted your seating, letting your hair fall messily in front of your face and blocking your eyes. "They call you Anaxa."

The other still held a confused expression, even his eyes squinted for a moment. "Because that's my name," he answered before adding with a deadpan tone, "Or are you that braindead you do not know the definition of a name...?"

You scoffed, kicking his crossed legs. "Asshole," a satisfied smile crept its way into his lips as he heard you.

"I mean, Anaxagoras is such a cool name. Like," he saw you made a grand gesture wigh your hand, looking at him swith stars in your eyes. "Anaxagoras! A genius in Amphoreus!" You then deflated, and your gesture became sluggish. "Anaxa.... a genius of Amphoreus..."

He saw your smile widen as you laughed. "See, it's so much better. You should capitalize on it."

Anaxa listened and watched your antics closely. It's strange, truly. How could a person wreck his usual habits so easily? He knows he has a test tomorrow morning, but here you are in the hidden depths of the Groves with a novel in his lap just because you said it was good.

"Whatever," he scoffed. Going back into his literature.

Ever since then, you started calling him by his full name. Even asking others to do the same. Anaxa didn't care much since people were usually hesitant to even talk to him, making it hard to offend him with a simple thing like names.

As more time passed, and his achievements rose. There would be this one scholar beside him, always keeping him grounded.

Anaxa, whilst he does sometimes get annoyed by the antics, likes that simplicity. He had to deal with prophecies, gods, and powers uncomprehended by mankind; but there was this aspect of life that remained the same. That remained simple.

He remembered asking you once. It was right after meeting Aglea and having a talk about the prophecies.

The leaves shaded him completely, in contrast to you, who was basking in the sunlight. He held a blank book in hand, the pencil creating strokes that slowly resembled a person.

In the middle of the quietness, he asked; "In this world of Titans and Demigods, what are you most scared of?"

He knew compared to him. Objectively, you were an ant in history. You're not a chrysos heir, and you had no connection to the Titans. Your achievements were recorded within the Groves archives, but nothing that would make non-scholars recognize your name.

With your simplicity comes uncertainty.

He heard you humming before answering; "Time."

Anaxa stopped his movement, before locking eyes with you. The bustling sound of the Grove sounding louder for a moment, but your voice sounding clear amidst it all.

"I'm scared the longer i live, the more i will forget. That either the world forget me wholely or i will forget everything," you answered further before chuckling. "Just the concept of it all feels so terrifying."

Anaxa subconsciously analyzed your expression. It held fear but also hope. He saw your eyes twinkle for a moment before looking up at him.

A smile still on your face as you stated. "That's why, promise you won't forget me, Mr. Anaxagoras the Demigod."

Anaxa remembered thinking back on your statement and nodding. He shrugged away that uneasiness in him; "i promise."

Your hand then lowered his book, seeing the results. A sketch of your face in charcoal pencil, every detail perfectly captured. "You sure this is for an assignment? Could've passed off as a modeling debut for me."

Anaxa rolled his eyes, snatching the book back and smacking your head lightly with it. "As if anyone would like that."

He heard you scoff, rubbing the spot but holding a wide smile. "You still love me, Anaxagoras."

Anaxa didn't reply at that.

When he heard his fate was 'incomplete', he had chalked it off as being related to his experience with death. But that day, a new revelation hits him.

'It was unpreventable.'

'There was nothing you could've done.'

'It was an accident no one foresaw.'

The more he heard those words, the more he felt his sanity slipping with each syllable they uttered. He was wary when you were assigned an assignment regarding the Time Titan. He was even more concerned when he was met with silence during the day of your supposed return.

He took a few moments to process after Tribbie had checked up on your research site per his request, only to see her empty-handed with a sorrowful expression.

At that second, the numbness of death felt like relief. An indescribable feeling of heaviness weighed down in his chest as realization sunk in, and all he could do was take it with no way of escaping.

There was the urge to scream, cry; anything. But he couldn't, too frozen to react.

He felt his heart and soul being split apart in two, a pain deep within him but at the same time feeling numb in disbelief. A feeling of... regret?

There were so many things to do, but he didn't. All in favor of what? His ego, pride, in order to find the right time?

His mind went back to Aglea's words after his meeting with her that day. This path isn't meant for the faint-hearted, that every Chrysos Heir will go through hell and back.

There were ways this could've been prevented. He could've done something. Even if it was an accident, it's by all means not an excuse for death.

Tribbie could recall the distraught hidden behind his empty expression. "If you need something... we're here for you."

Anaxa, despite his mind being suddenly broken into pieces, replied. "Can you bring them back?"

Her silence was enough for him.

To say a part of him died that day was an understatement. For a moment, his beliefs shook as he thought on his prophecy.

The thought of you being in his prophecy as the reason for his 'incompleteness' brought him comfort for a moment. Maybe a part of him wanted to believe that this really was out of his hands. But he shoved that thought down deep, the same way he chose to shove any guilt he could.

Anaxa didn't want your legacy to be tainted with his name, so he chose to only speak of your achievements.

Even as hundreds of years passed. He couldn't bring himself to forget any part about you. Your mannerisms and likeness were slowly getting picked up by him like a ritual.

Maybe that way, it was like you were still here. Just not with him. He was like a desperate man adjusting his life just to feel a semblance of your presence. Whether it'll be your naming habits, the books you read, your favorite spots, anything just to make it bearable.

Even so, even if he still insists on others to do it, knowing you were the only person who willingly does it brought him... comfort.

"Don't call me Anaxa, call me by my full name. Anaxagoras."

The last habit he picked up is one he insisted on doing himself.

If you're looking for the professor, you might find him sitting under the leaves that shaded him. A blank notebook in hand as his pencil sketches out your portrait. Another habit he picked up is his way of remembering your features. Something he refused to let happen years or even decades after.

That's what he thought, at least. A horrifying realization entered his mind as his pencil stopped in place.

"What did their eyes look like?"

[liricanoir]

[22ayla21]

I know you don't accept requests at the moment but I would like you to keep this idea in mind for a future post and I would really enjoy reading it. My idea was the following, partly related to what you already posted, that MC wanted to play a joke on her husband by going to kiss him and then leaving him wanting more and so they go after her. Well my idea is this: And this time the wife makes want/craving the husband, want to do "that" (you know what I'm talking about. Which involves using the bed and intimacy) showing off in a lingerie set ❤️‍🔥(To avoid inconvenience, it is better if the children are not at home at that time)

I can't wait to see how will mydei, Anaxa and Phainon react 🤭

Test of Patience

The wife decided to test her husband's patience by sending the children to visit friends.

The day began as usual. Mydei, as always, was busy with his affairs, and his wife with hers. However, from the very morning there was something in the air... special.

She was near him more often than usual, casually touching his arm, his shoulder, the back of his head. Her smile was soft, but there was a barely noticeable light in her eyes. As he read, she leaned over him, and her breath slid down his neck. She did not say a word, just lingered for a moment and left, leaving him with a barely noticeable tension in his body.

At breakfast, she ran her fingers along the rim of her cup, looking at him with an expression that made his throat dry. Then, as if by accident, she settled down next to him, pulling the hem of her dress a little higher than usual, showing off her smooth skin.

As the day went on, things only got worse. She appeared and disappeared, leaving behind a light scent of her perfume. Several times she passed him in new lingerie - lacy, thin, so seductive that his own self-control began to crack at the seams. She did not say anything directly, but her look said more than any words.

Mydei tried to concentrate on his work, but it was useless. Each time she appeared, it was a test. He felt a fire flare up in his chest, his hands clenched into fists every time she passed by, touching him completely innocently, but in such a way that his patience faded.

In the evening, she made the final blow - she came up to him, slowly ran her fingers along his shoulder, leaned towards his ear and whispered something barely audible, but so provocative that his body trembled.

Patience snapped.

He grabbed her wrist, pulled her towards him, pressing her to himself with strong arms. She just smiled, satisfied with his reaction, knowing that she had achieved her goal.

The house was theirs. The children were staying with friends.

This night belonged only to them.

His wife was especially playful today. In the morning, as soon as she entered the kitchen, her gaze was full of daring hints, as if she knew that the day would be full of intrigue. She gently touched his shoulder, saying with a light laugh that "today will not be an easy day." With every word and movement, she seemed to draw him into an invisible trap, leaving his thoughts confused and scattered.

When he was just getting ready for work, she, without looking up from her cup of coffee, approached him, almost imperceptibly sliding her hand along his back, then her fingers played on his neck. She looked innocent, but her look said a lot. Stroking turned into a light touch, and he could no longer focus on anything except her touch.

Throughout the day, her behavior only became more daring. She joked that maybe in the evening she would arrange a "present" for him. And the way she raised an eyebrow when, brushing against him, she accidentally touched his shoulder, and her hand gently stroked his arm. Every look, every step she took left a tension in the air that made it increasingly difficult to control herself.

But the most exquisite moment was when she returned to their bedroom and opened the closet doors. Easily, almost by accident, she showed him her new underwear. Delicate lace and seductive fabrics that left little to the imagination. She almost held it out to him, smiling her sly smile, as if to say: "Is this what you want?"

Anaxa clenched his teeth. He could feel his patience melting with each of her gestures. She had long known how to flirt with him without giving a final answer, playing with his desires. And now, when she slipped past again, his gaze became so sharp that she, feeling his tension, sat down slightly.

When the children left, the house became their personal territory. All these little hints, her words and looks left him no chance. He could no longer stand her playfulness, and as soon as she was in front of him, without even having time to utter another impudent remark, he could not stand it. The thin line between patience and passion was finally crossed. She did not even have time to understand what was happening, as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him. All her playful phrases, gestures and hints finally led to the fact that he could no longer hide his desire. She was like his riddle, which he solved - and she gave him everything he dreamed of for so long.

She knew what she was doing. From the first glance in the morning, from the light touch of her fingers on his shoulder, from a fleeting smile that promised more than it should have. It was one of those days when she wanted to play. Phainon felt it from the first minute, but he still had no idea what exactly he was getting himself into.

As he sat at the table, immersed in reading some documents, she, as if by accident, came closer, leaned towards him, touching his cheek with her hair. The warmth of her breath touched his neck, and her voice sounded soft, almost innocent:

— You are so tense... Maybe you should take a break?

He looked up at her, and a spark of mischief flashed in her eyes. She quickly turned and left, leaving behind a faint scent of perfume.

The whole day passed exactly like that. She passed by him, leaving light touches - sometimes sliding her fingers along his wrist, sometimes lingering a little longer than necessary. At one point he caught her pretending to casually adjust her stocking, exposing her thigh too ostentatiously. His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

She laughed to herself, knowing that she was building up his tension. She deliberately lingered in front of him a little longer than necessary, or pretended to accidentally brush his foot under the table.

By evening, she had finally finished him off.

When he entered the bedroom, she was standing at the mirror, trying on new underwear. The dark blue lace lay perfectly on her skin, emphasizing all the lines that he loved so much. She looked at him through the reflection in the mirror, slowly turning, allowing him to examine her from all sides.

“Do you like it?” she asked, as if not noticing how he froze. Phainon felt something break inside him. All the self-control he had been trying to maintain all day crumbled in one moment.

He took a step forward. Then another. She didn't move, only raised an eyebrow, waiting.

And the next moment he had her pressed against the wall, his breathing heavy, hot, his eyes full of desire. She only had time to laugh hoarsely before he leaned in to take the last of her teasing grin with a kiss.

[tanimil]

they gonna kiss i guess

[pheleszev]

Amphoreus Boys