#yandere Anaxagoras

[zeyris-daydreams]

// mind the tags.

Being with Anaxagoras was no different than being a carefully placed test subject ; or rather, a carefully placed observation subject. He was a chrysos heir full of denial, but the fate didn't waltz around him, and so he met you.

Aglaea, as the one who strode in footsteps of romance titan, was fitting for the cause; Anaxagoras did not agree to her ideas(of an arranged marriage) on a whim, after all. A man like him does not leave things up to a chance, and you certainly weren't worth the gamble. In your eyes, this was arranged and spontaneous—a coincidence that you were the one.

He was far different than Mydei or Phainon in this aspect; Anaxagoras was entirely neutral towards his "fate". For him, to believe in a predetermined outcome was to create it from the threads with your fingers; a self fulfilling prophecy—he equated it to causing a war from belief that said war would come to pass.

People always strive for familiar and the safe, and sometimes—in efforts to prevent a catastrophy, they themselves cause it. Anaxagoras never left things for a chance and he never allowed well-timed coincidences to poison his mind either.

Given his observant and encompassing nature, very little evaded his sharp eye—

He cradled your face in his hands, tilting it. The feeling of discomfort was there, subtle enough yet present by the furrow of your eyebrows, or the soft trembling of your lip.

Anaxagoras didn't merely appreciate you, to be with him was to be under a scientists watchful scalpel—and he dissected you like a subject fitting for his blade. "Anaxagoras—" the name slipped from your lips, and yet you could not follow it up with anything.

His head tilted, and you could feel his stare pierce through your skin, right into the muscle, where he split it to reveal the bones and the bare and the nerves and your mind. It was only his look, and yet it felt like something far more violating.

"Yes?"

You swallowed, but before you could say anything Anaxagoras leaned up close, his lips gently brushing against your cheekbone. "Your eyebrows are uneven."

Despite how many times you've had this conversation, it seemed he did not relent. Then again he learned since then—that you did not appreciate his observant nature as much as you claimed to do. "It's cute."

If you were to do the same to him, he wouldn't care. Because frankly, Anaxagoras did not comment in bad faith. The little things that made you, be you, he wished to pick apart and lay out on the table—he wanted to study you, what makes you be you, what allows you to exist.

Your eyes narrowed in irritation, but most of all the feeling of an intrusion—a needle so thin it pricked right underneath your skin, and you could not tear it out.

The sage's face moved back, his thumb lightly brushing against your jaw. His 'inspections' felt more intrusive than appreciative, and it was easy to conclude the statements to carry a negative connotation. Then again, this was merely how Anaxagoras was—he commented on every step within his research field, and he commented on every step now.

He opened his mouth more than necessary before as well—the feeling of his hands on you in a heated moment between husband and wife, soured by the "Your breasts are uneven." that slipped out of his mouth. The way he ran his fingers down your body other times, voicing his observation of a mole he hadn't seen before. The slow stroke of Anaxagoras' finger down your nose, humming of it's shape.

Anaxagoras had to be observant, and regardless of what you assumed of his comments, it did not change the nature of them. You were still you—the one he had picked out. The one unknowing to the nature of the choice he made. He wanted to chisel out his mind in your shape, to commit everything to memory—was he a good sage if he could not do as much?

Things had to be shaped—that's why Anaxagoras did not believe in fate. He did not believe in prophecies nor predetermined outcomes, because with his mind and hand, he woven the threads that bound you to him. This was not a fate's play, and he would refuse to let it reap the praise for his own labour.

You were his because he made it so—do not let the idea of a 'fated meeting' fool you. Alas, you were not privy to the concept.

[Mydei] [Phainon] [Aglaea in writing…] [Full masterlist]

[ariichive]

LONG AWAITED

anaxa returns to the city of okhema with one goal in mind.

yan!anaxa x gen. neutral reader.

tw: slight yandere, 3.1 main story quest spoilers, kidnapping kinda, not proofread :'), phainon appearance

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

the air of okhema felt unidealistic as anaxa quickly turned away from the white haired chrysos heir, who's eyes held admiration and a hint of nervousness. anaxa could not blame phainon for being on edge, after all it's been some time since he's traveled far from the grove of epiphany; the tension with aglaea only intensifying.

phainon wasn't just worried about anaxa's distaste towards the dressmaster, but the fact a certain beauty happened to reside in okehma; one anaxa had a growing obsession with that aglaea had informed him about.

the scent of earth and lingering incense clung to the air as anaxa strode ahead, his pace brisk despite the weight of his thoughts. phainon hesitated before following, his fingers ghosting over the embroidery of his sleeves—a nervous habit he'd never quite shaken. the streets of okhema were alive, yet there was an undercurrent of unease threading through the revelry, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

"...professor anaxa, with all due respect, you should probably go rest." phainon said nervously as he watched the annoyance grow on the professor's face he didn't put any effort in to hide. anaxa brought a hand up to his head, already feeling his headache increasing.

"still as unrelenting as ever," anaxa said more to himself than phainon (who knew not take that as a compliment).

phainon shifted on his feet, uneasy under the weight of anaxa’s sharp gaze. the professor’s silence was rarely comforting; it carried the weight of words unspoken, of conclusions already drawn and judgments already made.

“if you keep straining yourself like this, your mind will falter before your body does,” phainon tried again, forcing his voice to remain even. “and considering how much you pride yourself on your intellect, i imagine that would be a rather devastating blow.”

anaxa exhaled through his nose, a slow, deliberate gesture that conveyed both irritation and restraint. “you assume exhaustion is a state that can be remedied by mere rest. a rather reductive view.” his fingers pressed against his temple, as if attempting to physically restrain the inevitable onslaught of thoughts. “the mind does not cease simply because the body demands reprieve. if anything, it accelerates in retaliation. an unfortunate contradiction of existence. now then, i must be on my way. more time spent here entwined in aglaea's threads is less time spent with my [name]."

“if something happens—”

anaxa halted, turning just enough to glance at phainon from over his shoulder.

“then it will be because i allowed it.”

and with that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving phainon standing there, uncertain if those words were meant to be reassuring or a quiet promise of inevitability.

anaxa moved through the streets of okhema with a purpose, his every step measured, his every breath steady. the air here was thick with incense and candle smoke, curling through the alleyways in a way that made the city feel almost dreamlike. he ignored the idle chatter of merchants, the distant hum of music, the eyes that lingered on him longer than necessary.

his destination was clear.

past the winding streets, through the stone archways laced with ivy, beyond the courtyards filled with marble statues of nameless gods.

his mind churned through the possibilities of the night—outcomes, variables, countermeasures.

but then, as he neared the threshold of that familiar estate, he felt something tighten in his chest.

a presence.

not phainon. not aglaea.

you.

his fingers curled slightly.

the moment he stepped inside, he would no longer be professor anaxa, the ever-stoic scholar with a mind sharpened like a blade.

no, within these walls, he was something else entirely. something raw. something that could not be defined.

nothing about the outside of your residence has changed in the slightest. your same favorite greenery blooming by your door, the half broken pillar you have yet to fix, and even the familar sense of longing deep in anaxa's heart.

you were in there. goodness, how long has he deprived himself of your beauty?

with an almost shaking hand and a crazed smile, anaxa's hand slowly made its way to knock. one swift, sharp, knock.

the sound echoed in the still air, sharp and deliberate. anaxa’s fingers lingered against the wood for a fraction longer than necessary before he pulled back, exhaling through his nose in a measured attempt to steady himself.

he had rehearsed this moment in his mind countless times—constructed dialogues, crafted perfect syllables, envisioned every possible reaction you could give him. but now, standing here with his heart drumming an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, he found himself at war with something far less logical.

and when the door creaked open, revealing you—bathed in the glow of sunlight, as breathtaking as ever—he felt it.

that intoxicating, maddening sense of possession.

how could he have ever let himself stay away?

meanwhile, you were in utmost shock seeing the familiar face of an old friend standing outside your door. "anaxa!" you were quick to take his hand and pull him inside. "y-you're okay," your eyes were quick to scan over his body for injuries.

you heard about the bustling news around okhema, the fall of many at the grove of epiphany by the newly announced flame reaver. with the news of no survivors being found, you were immensely relieved to see anaxa.

anaxa allowed himself to be pulled inside, though his expression remained unreadable, save for the flicker of something unreadable—relief, amusement, or something far more dangerous—when he felt your hands on his.

“of course, i’m okay,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he watched you scan him for injuries. “you underestimate my ability to persevere.”

but there was something strange in the way he spoke. something distant.

the warmth of your concern should have soothed him, but instead, it only deepened the ache inside him. you were still the same—soft, caring, unguarded in your worry for him. and he?

he still had this dark desire within him.

you, however, seemed oblivious to the turmoil beneath his carefully composed exterior. you cupped his face gently, your thumb grazing the sharp line of his jaw. “you’re burning up,” you whispered, concern lacing your voice.

anaxa let out a breathless chuckle, a sound devoid of humor. if only you knew.

“it’s nothing,” he dismissed, though he didn’t pull away. “simply the remnants of a journey longer than intended.”

your frown deepened. “you should rest. whatever happened at the grove… it must have been—”

his hand shot up, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not harshly, but with enough force to halt your words. his grip was steady, calculated, yet there was something almost desperate in the way he held you.

his thumb brushed idly over your pulse, feeling the steady rhythm beneath his fingertips. a scholar by nature, anaxa had spent years studying patterns, deciphering truths from the subtlest details. and right now, your heartbeat told him everything—your worry, your hesitance, your trust.

trust.

his jaw clenched. did he still deserve it?

slowly, as if realizing the intensity of his own actions, anaxa loosened his grip, allowing his hand to drift away. “forgive me,” he murmured, his voice softer now, yet no less heavy. “it seems exhaustion makes a tyrant of me.”

you didn’t move for a moment, your eyes searching his, looking for something—an answer, perhaps, or reassurance.

maybe it was cerces playing a trick on him for his lack of belief in the gods. her former yearning for mnestia seeping through into him, enhancing his already deep need for you.

he took a slow, deliberate step closer, as though drawn by an invisible force, his presence closing the space between you without any words spoken. his eyes searched yours with an intensity that bordered on desperation, yet his expression remained calm, composed, almost as if he were fighting against something larger than himself.

“do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice a quiet rasp.

feel what? you wanted to ask. the tension in the air, the pull of something darker than you understood.

but instead, your breath hitched, something shifting within you as you stood there, uncertain whether to pull away or step closer. you couldn’t tear your eyes from his—this man, your old friend, your anaxa—but now, the person standing before you felt like something different altogether.

and suddenly, the truth was clear in the depth of his gaze.

he wasn’t here because of what had happened at the grove. he wasn’t here for the tragedy.

he was here for you.

and he wasn't going to leave without you.

“[name], you feel it too right? the gods won’t be here to save you either.”

[heliosunny]

Lucky Egg Anaxa? Unless someone has already requested it

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Anaxa x Reader

The Lucky Egg Dispenser was tucked in the corner of a bustling shopping district, wedged between a neon-lit café and a magic supply store that specialized in beginner-friendly spell kits. You had walked past it dozens of times, always amused by the ridiculous concept—spend a few credits, get a mystery egg, and see what hatches. Most people treated it as a harmless novelty, something fun for kids and collectors.

But today, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you stopped in front of it. Before you knew it, you had inserted the required amount and turned the crank.

With a soft chime, an egg rolled into the collection tray. The display screen above flickered with a message:

Congratulations! Your egg will hatch in 3 days. Take good care of it!

Three days? Most of these eggs were just decorative trinkets with tiny charms inside. This one… felt different.

Tucking the egg carefully into your bag, you exhaled.

Three days.

The egg sat on your bedside table, warm and pulsing like a second heartbeat in the quiet of your apartment. It had been two days since you got it from that stupid Lucky Egg Dispenser.

At first, you thought it was just some novelty, something that would crack open to reveal a mechanical pet or a glowing stone. But this thing… it felt alive. You caught yourself staring at it more often than you’d like to admit, your fingers hovering just above the shell, feeling the faint warmth it gave off.

What was going to hatch from this?

"Guess I'll find out tomorrow."

The next morning, something was different.

The egg had grown warmer. The glow had intensified, flickering like a candle on the verge of going out. You reached out, fingertips brushing against the shell. The moment you touched it, a sharp crack split the air.

You jerked your hand back.

Another crack. Then another. The shell was breaking apart, jagged lines spiderwebbing across its smooth surface. You barely had time to react before the egg burst open with a sudden flash of light.

And then, he was there.

Slumped on your bed, half-covered in shattered shell fragments, was— a person. Or, at least, someone who looked like a person.

His hair was damp, strands clinging to his face as he slowly pushed himself up. His single eye locked onto you, intense and piercing, while the other was covered by a dark, ornate eyepatch.

"You’re mine now."

"...What?"

"You picked my egg. You waited for me. That makes you mine. Obviously. The name is Anaxagoras by the way."

You opened your mouth to argue—but his gaze pinned you in place.

"Tch. You look surprised." His tone was blunt, unimpressed. "What, did you think you were getting a pet? Some tiny, harmless thing?"

You had no words. None at all.

"Doesn’t matter." He stretched, rolling his shoulders as if testing his own body. Then he turned to you again.

"You’ll take care of me, won’t you?"

There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just the unshakable confidence of someone who had already decided the answer.

You said nothing.

Just stood there, staring at the strange man who had just hatched from an egg on your bed like this was normal.

Nope.

Not dealing with this.

Slowly, carefully, you took a step back. He tilted his head, unimpressed.

"Running away?"

You didn’t answer. Just kept backing up until you reached the door to your room. Your fingers found the handle, twisted it, and I slipped out, shutting it behind you. The lock clicked into place.

You stood there for a second, listening.

Silence.

Maybe… maybe he’d disappear if you left him alone. Maybe this was just some weird, elaborate illusion. A trick of the mind. You’d go outside, take a walk, come back, and your bed would be empty. The egg would be gone. Everything would be normal again.

With that thought, you grabbed your coat, shoved your hands into the pockets, and left the apartment.

The city was the same as always. The hum of magic-powered trams, neon signs flickering in the afternoon haze, people moving through the streets. You walked like nothing was wrong, like today was just another normal day.

Stopped by a café. Got a drink.

Browsed a bookstore, ran your fingers along the spines of titles you weren’t planning to buy.

Took the long way home.

You didn’t check your phone. You didn’t think about the locked door. You didn’t think about the man who definitely wasn’t real still sitting in your room.

At least, you didn’t think about it until—

"Why do you look so surprised?"

There he was.

Standing right in front of you.

Same hair, same eye, same outfit he had hatched in. Like he had walked right out of your apartment and followed you the entire way.

"I’ve been following you" he said, tone completely matter-of-fact.

"Wha—"

"You didn’t notice?" He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "That’s pathetic. If you can’t even sense when you’re being followed, you’re clearly incapable of protecting yourself."

"Well?" He crossed his arms. "Aren’t you going to say anything? Or are you just going to keep pretending I don’t exist?"

Your brain was still trying to catch up.

He was real. He was standing in front of you, completely unfazed, like it was the most natural thing in the world to hatch from an egg and then casually stalk you through the city.

Before you could react, a gun materialized out of thin air, appearing in his grip. No incantations, no dramatic movements—just instant manifestation.

BANG

You flinched hard. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed through the street, causing a few distant heads to turn. But before panic could set in, you noticed what he had aimed at.

A fly.

Or at least, what used to be a fly. Now it was nothing more than a tiny burnt mark on the pavement.

Anaxa exhaled, looking mildly annoyed as he lowered the gun. "Sorry. It was annoying."

You just stared at him.

Then at the gun in his hand.

Then back at him.

"You—" Your voice came out strangled. "You just shot a fly."

"Yeah. I did." He blinked at you, as if waiting for you to say something less obvious.

You ran a hand down your face, trying to process. "You shot a fly."

"And?" His eye flicked toward you, utterly unimpressed. "You should be thanking me. That thing was buzzing near your ear for at least five minutes. It was bothering me."

You inhaled sharply. "You shot a fly."

"You’ve said that three times now. Are you broken?" He narrowed his eye slightly, scanning you with what almost looked like genuine concern. "Did your brain short-circuit? That’s unfortunate. I just got you, and you’re already defective."

You just gaped at him.

He sighed, shifting the gun between his fingers before it disappeared—vanishing just as easily as it had appeared. "Anyway. Let’s go."

That snapped you out of it. "Go where?"

"Home." He gave you a look like you were the weird one for asking. "Obviously."

You took a step back. "I don’t even know you!"

"That’s not true. You know my name. I’m Anaxagoras. You’re mine." He tilted his head. "And you’re not very smart if you think I’m letting you wander around alone when you clearly can’t defend yourself."

You blinked rapidly. "I—"

"Case in point," he continued smoothly, as if you hadn’t even tried to argue. "You didn’t notice me following you for half the day. You flinch too easily. And you look so unguarded it’s almost laughable. What if someone else had found you before I did? You’d be dead by now."

You exhaled sharply, gripping your temples. Your brain was fried. Completely and utterly fried.

There was a man—a man who hatched from an egg—standing in front of you, casually materializing and firing a gun like it was nothing. And now he was acting like you were some helpless child who couldn’t be trusted to walk outside alone.

This was too much.

You needed a reset. Something normal. Something grounding.

Food.

Maybe if you sat down and ate something, your brain would start working properly again.

You grabbed Anaxa by the wrist before he could start walking. He tensed slightly at the contact, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you. "What?"

"We’re eating first" you said, already dragging him toward the nearest restaurant.

"Eating?" His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t resist. "We can eat at home."

"I am not going home with you yet. We are going to sit down somewhere, I’m going to eat something warm, and you are going to—" You glanced at him, realizing you had no idea if he even needed food. "—do whatever you want, I don’t care."

Anaxa made a soft tch sound, clearly unimpressed, but let you pull him along anyway. "Fine. But if this is some attempt to delay the inevitable, it won’t work."

You ignored him, spotting a small ramen shop on the corner and steering him inside. The place was cozy, filled with the rich, savory scent of broth and fresh noodles. You picked a table and sat down, finally letting go of his wrist.

Anaxa sat across from you, looking around briefly before his eye settled back on you. "You look less stupid now."

You sighed, rubbing your face. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were about two seconds away from mentally shutting down," he stated bluntly. "Now you look like you can at least function."

You scowled but couldn’t even argue. He wasn’t wrong.

The waiter came by, and you ordered your food. Anaxa didn’t order anything, just resting his chin on his hand as he watched you with that same unreadable expression.

You drummed your fingers on the table. "You’re really not gonna eat anything?"

"I don’t need it," he said simply. Then, after a pause, "But if you tell me to, I will."

You frowned. "That’s… weird."

"No, it’s not."

"You just said you don’t need to eat."

"I don’t." He tilted his head slightly. "But if you want me to eat, I will."

You stared at him. "That’s even weirder."

He shrugged, unimpressed.

The food arrived, and you dug in, hoping the warmth of the broth would help ground you. Anaxa, true to his word, didn’t touch anything. He just sat there, watching you, like he was analyzing every move you made.

It was unnerving.

"Can you not stare at me like that?"

"No."

"...Why?"

"Because I want to."

You groaned, shoving another bite of noodles into your mouth. This was going to be a long meal.

You sighed, slurping up the last of your noodles, and set your chopsticks down. The warmth of the broth helped, but it didn’t magically fix the fact that there was still a man who hatched from an egg sitting across from you, staring like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Anaxa hadn’t moved once. Hadn’t blinked much, either. He just sat there, elbow on the table, chin resting on his hand, eye locked onto you.

It was weird. Unnerving. You needed a distraction.

Dessert.

You got into another place, ordered something sweet, hoping the sugar rush would give you enough energy to deal with whatever the hell this situation was. When it arrived—warm, fluffy pastries drizzled with syrup—you picked one up and took a bite, savoring the taste.

And then you looked at Anaxa.

Still watching.

You sighed through your nose. “You’re really not gonna eat anything?”

"I told you. I don’t need it."

You narrowed your eyes, then, on impulse, grabbed a piece of pastry and held it up to his mouth. “Then just chew it. For my sake.”

He blinked, seeming vaguely surprised. “You’re feeding me now?”

“You’re the one acting like a guard dog,” you muttered. “Might as well feed you.”

For a second, you thought he was going to refuse. But then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward and took a bite straight from your fingers.

…That was weirdly intimate.

But before you could dwell on it, Anaxa started chewing.

And kept chewing.

His mouth was still full, but you pushed another piece at him, and he took it without hesitation. Then another. And another.

It was ridiculous.

His usually sharp, composed expression was ruined by how much food he had stuffed into his mouth. He was chewing mechanically, like he wasn’t even used to the act, but he didn’t stop you from feeding him.

By the time you were down to the last piece, his cheek was slightly puffed out from everything he had crammed in there.

You tried to hold back a snort. “You look stupid right now.”

Anaxa just gave you a blank look, still chewing.

Then he swallowed everything in one go, setting his elbows on the table. "Are you satisfied now?"

You shook your head, unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day.”

"I fail to see how that was funny."

“You chewed for a full minute straight.”

"And?"

You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last bite for yourself.

At least now he wasn’t just staring.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling a little more grounded now that you’d had a full meal. Maybe warm food did help. At least, you could think a little clearer now.

Anaxa, meanwhile, had finally stopped chewing and was watching you with that same expression.

You exhaled, finally letting reality sink in. This wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t an illusion. This wasn’t something that would disappear if you ignored it long enough.

You did hatch something from that egg.

And now he was here.

And judging by how he had been acting all day—stalking you, critiquing your survival skills, eating just because you told him to—there was something deeper at play.

“So. What are you?”

Anaxa raised a brow. “That’s a stupid question.”

“No, really. What are you? I get that you came from the egg, but what does that mean? What does that make me?”

At that, he tilted his head slightly, watching you like he was reevaluating something. Then, without a word, he lifted his hand.

A faint glow flickered between his fingers, and something materialized— A thread. No, not just a thread, something more like a bond. It shimmered in the dim lighting of the restaurant, thin but undeniably real. It stretched between his hand… and you.

“So” you muttered, “the egg really did choose me.”

"Obviously." He flicked the thread lightly, watching how it pulsed in response. "The moment you turned that crank, it was decided. You’re my master. This bond is proof of that."

“Master?”

"That’s what I said."

You stared at the glowing thread, then back at him. “So… what can you do?”

Anaxa blinked, caught off guard by how fast you got to the point. “You’re not even going to question it?”

“Would it change anything?”

He considered that for a moment. Then smirked. "No. It wouldn’t."

“Exactly.” you muttered. “So? What can you do?”

His smirk widened slightly, amused by your directness. He let the thread fade and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table.

"Many things."

“Like?”

"Fight. Kill. Protect. Track. Destroy. I can eliminate threats before they even think of harming you. I can ensure no one so much as looks at you the wrong way. I can wipe out anything that stands in your path."

“That’s a lot of violence.”

"Is that a problem?"

"I don’t need a walking weapon."

"That’s unfortunate. Because that’s what you got."

You exhaled, looking at him for a long moment. "Alright, then. If you’re mine, then I should be able to make requests, right?"

"That depends on what you ask."

“Good,” you said, finishing the last sip of your drink. Then you locked eyes with him. “Because I think we need to set some ground rules first.”

Anaxa blinked again. Then huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh. "Fine. This should be interesting."

A few days had passed since Anaxa hatched, and while you were slowly getting used to having him around, he was still ridiculously overbearing.

You’d barely gone anywhere alone—if you so much as turned a corner without telling him, he was suddenly there, watching, waiting, making sure you weren’t about to get yourself killed. It was suffocating.

But also kind of funny.

Because for all his sharp instincts and deadpan remarks, Anaxa wasn’t exactly used to regular human behavior. And that gave you an idea.

A prank.

Something harmless. Something just to see how he’d react.

So as you walked side by side down the street, you subtly reached for the ice-cold bottle of water in your bag, already planning to flick some at him. Just a little—nothing crazy.

"Don’t think about it."

You froze.

Anaxa hadn’t even looked at you. He was still facing forward.

Your grip on the bottle tightened. “What.”

"You heard me."

You frowned. “Did you just—read my mind or something?”

Anaxa finally glanced at you, looking unimpressed. "No. I simply predicted your next move."

“…Excuse me?”

"Your expression changed three seconds ago, which means you had a new thought. Your hand moved slightly, signaling intent. And given your recent behavior, it's likely something irritating." He sighed. "I’ve already accounted for every possible action you might take in the next five minutes. Trying to surprise me is a waste of time."

You gawked at him. “That is insane.”

"No, that is intelligence." He smirked slightly, just enough to be infuriating. "You should try it sometime."

Your jaw dropped.

Oh, it’s on.

You weren’t sure how, but you were going to catch him off guard one day. Even if it took years.

You had tried. So many times.

You planned. You strategized. You executed.

And yet, every single prank attempt on Anaxa had ended in humiliating failure.

The moment you so much as thought about messing with him, he knew. It was like he had a built-in prank radar, and no amount of creativity or misdirection could fool him. He would predict everything.

You threw a pillow at him? He caught it without looking. You put salt in his tea? He smelled it instantly. You tried to trip him? You ended up tripping instead.

At this point, you had no choice but to admit defeat. For now.

So you gave up on pranking him and focused on something else: a dungeon run.

It was a routine thing. You ran dungeons occasionally to rack up points, earn some cash, and hone your skills. Anaxa had been glued to your side since hatching, but this time, you left him at home.

Not because you were scared of bringing him—he was probably the best bodyguard in existence—but because you needed to do something on your own.

You headed out with your usual party, braving the stormy weather as you entered the dungeon. It was a decent run—some challenging fights, some good loot. Nothing too crazy.

But what you didn’t account for was how long it would take.

By the time you and your party emerged, the rain had gotten worse. Heavy drops soaked through your clothes, chilling you to the bone. And, of course, you had forgotten your umbrella.

So you huddled under one of your party member’s umbrellas, standing very close to stay dry. Maybe even a little too close. You laughed at something they said, nudging them playfully, completely unaware of anything unusual—

"You're awfully comfortable with them."

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

Turning sharply, you found Anaxa standing just a few feet away, completely unfazed by the downpour. His hair was slightly damp, but his expression was the same as always.

In his hand was your umbrella.

“...Why are you here?”

"You forgot this." He held up the umbrella, his voice calm. But then his gaze flickered toward your party, who was still standing close. "And I was curious."

Your party members exchanged glances, sensing the tension in the air. One of them awkwardly cleared their throat. “Uh… is this a friend of yours?”

Anaxa didn’t answer. He just watched you, waiting.

For what, you weren’t sure. But the storm wasn’t just in the sky anymore. It was standing right in front of you.

You let out a quiet sigh, feeling the weight of Anaxa’s gaze on you even as you turned back to your party.

“Guess I’ll head home. See you guys later” you said, waving them off.

Your party exchanged looks but didn’t question it. “Yeah, see you. Don’t let your friend glare us to death on the way out.”

You shot them a dry look but didn’t bother defending Anaxa. Mostly because… yeah. He was definitely glaring.

Without another word, you took the umbrella from his hand, popped it open, and started walking. He followed silently, his footsteps perfectly in sync with yours.

The walk home was… tense.

Not that he said anything. If anything, his silence was worse. Normally, Anaxa was either making sharp remarks, throwing blunt observations at you, or predicting your next move like some smug, all-knowing entity.

But right now?

Nothing.

By the time you got home, his hair was damp, strands clinging to his face from the rain. You frowned, tossing your wet jacket aside before turning to him. “Sit.”

Anaxa raised a brow. "What."

You crossed your arms. “Your hair’s wet. I’m blow-drying it.”

He blinked once. Then, for whatever reason, exhaled through his nose like he found that amusing. But he did as you said, sitting down without complaint.

You grabbed the hairdryer, plugged it in, and stood behind him, fingers threading lightly through his hair as you began drying it.

Still, he said nothing.

You huffed, ruffling his hair as you worked. “Alright, what’s your deal?”

"What deal."

“You’ve been quiet this whole time.”

"No, I haven't."

“Yes, you have.” You fluffed his bangs to dry them faster. “You’re usually the one lecturing me about every little thing I do. But now? Silence.”

Anaxa remained still, letting you dry his hair.

You sighed. “Look, if this is about the dungeon thing, I was just doing my job. That’s all.”

"I know."

…That was it?

You frowned, turning the dryer off and running your fingers through his now-fluffy hair. He still hadn’t moved.

But something about the way he sat there—the way he let you do this without a single complaint—felt off.

Like a storm had passed, but the tension still lingered in the air.

Even after everything—the rain, the silence, the weird tension—you and Anaxa somehow ended up bickering before bed.

It started with something stupid. You didn’t even remember what exactly, but it spiraled into another one of your usual back-and-forths.

"You should be more aware of your surroundings."

“I was literally fine.”

"You were unaware of my presence."

“Because I wasn’t expecting you to stalk me in the rain like some horror movie villain.”

"A lack of expectations leads to vulnerability."

You groaned, flopping onto your bed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Anaxa.”

His eye twitched. “Anaxagoras.”

“Anaxa.”

"Anaxagoras."

“Anaxa.”

"Anaxagoras."

“Anaxa.”

"Anaxa—"

Silence.

You blinked.

Anaxa blinked.

You stared at him. His expression remained eerily neutral, but you could see the moment he realized his mistake. His jaw tightened just slightly, and he looked like he was mentally rebooting.

Slowly, painfully, his eye closed in resignation.

“…Fine.” His voice was low, grudging. “But only you may call me that.”

You grinned in triumph, stretching out on the bed. “Good.”

He exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms as he stood near the doorway. His usual sharp gaze flickered toward you, but this time, he didn’t say anything else.

Not even when your breathing slowed.

Not even when sleep pulled you under.

You fell asleep easily, comfortably.

Anaxa, on the other hand, remained wide awake.

His eye lingered on your peaceful form, watching, thinking. Even as the room settled into silence, he made no move to rest.

Instead, he simply stood there, keeping watch—like he always would.

You woke up feeling well-rested—until you turned your head and saw the towering pile of books stacked haphazardly around your room.

What. The. Hell.

You groggily sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to see more books. They were scattered across the floor, some open, some closed, some stacked so high they threatened to topple over. The smell of ink and old paper filled the air.

And right in the middle of this chaotic mess, Anaxa sat calmly on the floor, flipping through yet another book.

You stared at him in horror. “What… is all this?”

Without looking up, he turned a page. “Books.”

You inhaled sharply. “I can see that, Anaxa.”

"Then why did you ask."

You groaned, pushing aside a book that had somehow made its way onto your bed. “Where the hell did you get all these? We don’t own this many books.”

"I retrieved them."

“…From where?”

He finally looked up, "From various sources."

That was not an answer.

Your headache worsened as you stared at the sheer number of books surrounding you. Titles about history, science, politics, philosophy, technology—some about this world, others about subjects that made your brain hurt just looking at them.

Wait.

Your stomach dropped. “Don’t tell me you—”

"I read them all."

Your jaw dropped. “In one night?”

"Yes." He closed the book he was holding and grabbed another from the pile. "Most of them were inefficiently written, but I extracted the necessary information."

You pressed your palms against your temples. “That’s not normal.”

"Neither am I."

You groaned, glancing around at the literary apocalypse that had consumed your home. “Please tell me you at least plan on returning them.”

"No."

“ANAXA—”

You inhaled deeply, staring at the absolute disaster of books flooding your home. You couldn’t live like this.

So, naturally, you went for the most drastic measure possible.

“I’ll burn them.”

Anaxa, still flipping through a book, barely spared you a glance. “No, you won’t.”

You grabbed the nearest book and held it up threateningly. “Watch me.”

That got his attention.

Before you could even think about setting it on fire, Anaxa moved.

One second, you were holding the book. The next, it was gone—snatched from your hands so fast you barely even registered it. He tossed it back onto the pile like nothing happened, his gaze sharp.

"Do not." His voice was firm, not angry, but absolute. "You lack the authority to destroy knowledge."

“I lack the patience to live in a damn library.” You glared at him. “Clean this up, or I swear—”

Knock. Knock.

Both of you froze.

The air in the room shifted instantly. The argument forgotten, tension replaced it. You exchanged a look with Anaxa. He was already on alert, his body subtly shifting into a more defensive stance.

You exhaled, stepping toward the door. “It’s probably nothing—”

"Wait."

But you had already turned the knob.

The door creaked open, revealing a figure standing just outside—a man draped in a dark cloak, his face shadowed. Something about him felt wrong.

Before you could even greet him, his hand moved.

BANG.

A gunshot rang through the air.

The man jerked back, staggering. He didn’t fall—just hissed, clutching his side before his eyes flicked toward Anaxa.

Anaxa, who had already drawn a gun, his aim perfectly steady, his expression cold.

The man clicked his tongue and, without another word, ran.

You barely processed what just happened before Anaxa stepped forward, his eye narrowing as he watched the figure disappear into the streets.

"Tch. Coward." He lowered his gun but didn’t put it away.

You swallowed hard, adrenaline still rushing through you. “…What the hell was that?”

"An attempted murder."

Your heart was still pounding, but something caught your eye—a small object glinting on the ground.

You bent down, picking it up. A badge.

The design was strange—an unfamiliar symbol etched into the metal, a twisting shape that made your head hurt if you stared at it too long.

“…Anaxa” you called, turning it in your hand.

He glanced down, eyeing the badge. Then, recognition flickered across his face.

"I’ve seen this before."

You blinked. “Where?”

"One of the books." He turned away, stepping over the scattered mess of texts he had dragged into your home. "This symbol belongs to a cult. A rather peculiar one."

A cult? That explained why that guy felt so… wrong.

You frowned. “What kind of cult?”

Anaxa picked up a book, flipping through the pages until he landed on the one he wanted. He held it up, showing you a faded illustration of the same symbol. “They believe in the revival of an ancient being. One that is expected to bring the world to a ‘new state.’”

“Define ‘new state.’”

"Destruction. Rebirth. The usual nonsense." He snapped the book shut. "They offer human sacrifices to fuel their goal. An inefficient and foolish method."

You exhaled sharply, gripping the badge. “Why would they come after me?”

“They weren’t after you.”

“…Then who?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the badge again, then at the scattered books around him.

"They may have sensed something about me."

That alone was unsettling. If he was their target, then what exactly did they know?

----

Tracking them down wasn’t difficult.

Anaxa was efficient. Between the books he devoured and his own unsettling ability to predict outcomes, it didn’t take long to find their gathering spot.

A massive, ancient tree stood before you, its gnarled roots twisting through the earth like veins. The air was thick here, charged with something unseen.

“This is the place” you murmured, gripping your weapon.

"Naturally." Anaxa stood beside you, his stance casual, but you knew better. He was ready.

Shadows flickered beneath the tree’s canopy. The distant sound of hushed voices reached your ears.

“So. What’s the plan?”

He smirked slightly, rolling his shoulders.

"We do what we must."

And with that, you both stepped forward, disappearing into the darkness.

Anaxa moved like a force of nature.

One moment, the cultists were gathered in their eerie chants, their cloaks blending with the shadows beneath the great tree. The next, gunfire rang out, and bodies crumpled before they even realized what hit them.

"Pathetic." Anaxa’s voice was cold as he reloaded effortlessly, stepping over a fallen figure without a second thought. "They waste their lives on delusions."

You weren’t paying much attention to his massacre—you had your own job to do.

Slipping through the chaos, you avoided direct combat, focusing instead on the scattered documents and maps tucked away in makeshift altars. The more you could find about their leader, the faster you could end this.

Because in the end, that was the goal.

Not revenge. Not heroics.

Just peace.

You weren’t interested in whatever twisted faith these people had. And neither was Anaxa. He wasn’t fighting out of righteousness or hatred—just cold efficiency. Every bullet he fired, every movement he made was meant to erase the problem.

Because problems like these?

They got in the way of your life. His life. Your shared, quiet, normal life.

You rifled through some notes, eyes scanning messy handwriting about their leader’s whereabouts. Not far. Just deeper into the forest, a hidden ruin beneath the roots of this very tree.

You turned back to Anaxa just as the last cultist standing let out a strangled gurgle, collapsing to the ground.

“Find what you needed?” he asked, as if he hadn’t just slaughtered half a cult.

You nodded, holding up the documents. “Yeah. Their leader’s underground.”

"Then let's be done with it."

The underground ruin was exactly what you expected—dark, damp, and crawling with the last remnants of this cult.

You and Anaxa moved fast, cutting through whatever was left of their resistance. It wasn’t much. The ones left behind weren’t fighters—they were zealots, clinging to their faith even as they died screaming.

Eventually, you found him. The leader.

A gaunt, hollow-eyed man draped in ornate robes, standing before an altar, his expression eerily calm despite the carnage surrounding him.

"You are too late," he murmured, his voice carrying through the chamber. "The cycle will begin anew. The great one—"

BANG.

Anaxa shot him in the leg without hesitation.

The man let out a choked scream, collapsing onto one knee. His breath turned ragged, but his eerie smile didn’t falter.

"You cannot stop what has already been set in motion," he rasped. "Sacrifices have been made. The gate—"

Anaxa was in front of him in an instant.

You barely saw him move. One moment, he was standing beside you; the next, he had grabbed the man by the front of his robes, yanking him up with ease.

“I am not interested in your nonsense” Anaxa said, voice eerily calm. "You have wasted my time"

Before the cult leader could respond, Anaxa's hand—no, his fingers—sank into the man’s chest as if the flesh and bone were nothing. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as Anaxa pulled his arm back, widening the gap in the man’s torso as though he were tearing paper apart.

You watched as the cultist’s chest cavity split open, ribs snapping under Anaxa’s grip. A hollow, gaping wound remained where his heart should’ve been.

The man let out a wet gasp, eyes wide with shock, before his body twitched and fell slack.

Anaxa let go. The corpse hit the ground with a dull thud, utterly ruined.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. “Well. That’s one way to do it.”

Anaxa shook the blood from his hands, not even sparing the body another glance. "I took the most efficient route."

Of course he did.

You stepped past the corpse, glancing at the ruined altar. Whatever ritual they had planned—whatever insane goal they were working toward—died with that man.

Anaxa turned to you, wiping the last of the blood from his fingers.

"Shall we go home?"

By the time you got home, exhaustion was hitting you hard.

Your legs ached, your head pounded, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed and not exist for a few hours.

But then—

You opened the door.

And there they were.

The mountains of books Anaxa had hoarded still sat in your home like a damn dragon’s treasure pile.

You stared at the disaster before you, something inside you snapping.

“Nope,” you said, voice flat. “I’m done. I’m burning them.”

"No, you’re not."

“I am.”

"You are not."

“I am, Anaxa. I swear to every god and force in this world, I am setting fire to this damn mess—”

Before you could even think about moving toward your lighter, Anaxa appeared in front of you in an instant, his hands gripping your wrists, effectively stopping you in place.

You struggled, glaring up at him. “Let me go.”

"No."

“Anaxa.”

"You lack the capability to properly organize this knowledge. It is better under my possession."

“Oh my god, I don’t want to organize it, I want it gone—”

Anaxa leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “You are being irrational.”

Your breath hitched, and suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was.

His grip on your wrists was firm, his fingers pressing against your skin—but not painfully.

“You hoarded like, a hundred books in one night. I think that’s way more irrational than me wanting to burn them.”

"Incorrect. My actions were logical. Yours are emotional."

“Oh, shut up.”

You yanked one of your hands free and jabbed his cheek with your finger.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there. You glaring, him staring. His hand was still wrapped around your other wrist, but he wasn’t holding it too tightly anymore.

"You are amusing when you are frustrated."

You groaned, dropping your head against his shoulder in defeat. “I hate you.”

"No, you don't."

Damn it. You really didn’t.

----

After all the chaos at the dungeon, and the strange cult, you figured your friends deserved something for always having your back.

So, you decided to cook for them.

The problem? You weren’t exactly a master chef.

But thanks to someone’s obsessive hoarding, you had plenty of resources to learn from.

Anaxa had finally cleaned up the disaster he’d created—mostly because you forced him to by threatening to burn everything again. You even bought shelves so he could actually store his ridiculous book collection instead of letting it take over your floor.

And now, one of those books—a cooking guide—was in your hands.

You flipped through it, scanning the recipes. “Alright,” you muttered. “Let’s do this.”

Anaxa, lounging nearby, raised a brow. “You are attempting to expand your culinary skills?”

“I’m testing out different dishes for my friends” you said, already gathering ingredients. “Since they always help me out.”

"Logical. It is good to maintain positive social relations with allies."

You shot him a look. “You could just say it’s a nice thing to do, you know.”

He smirked but said nothing.

What started as a simple plan quickly spiraled into something bigger.

Every day, you tried a different dish, experimenting with flavors and techniques. Some turned out amazing. Others… well, let’s just say there were a few disasters along the way.

And Anaxa?

He was your official taste tester.

At first, you weren’t sure if he’d even care about food. But surprisingly, he gave some of the most detailed feedback you’d ever heard.

"Too much salt. The texture is acceptable, but the flavor balance is slightly off."

"This one is adequate. Not outstanding, but not offensive to the palate."

"Interesting. The layering of flavors in this dish is commendable. You are improving."

And sometimes—when you made something really good—

He would go completely silent after taking a bite. Then, after a long pause, he would just say, "More."

It was almost funny seeing someone as composed as him get that into food.

After a week of testing, you finally decided on the perfect dish.

A warm, comforting meal—one that was simple yet flavorful, something that would make your friends feel appreciated.

You set the final plate down in front of Anaxa, watching as he took a bite.

A pause. Then, he gave a slow nod. “This is the best one.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I think so too.”

----

Peace never lasted long in your life.

Not because you were reckless. Not because you sought out trouble.

But because trouble always found you.

And now, with Anaxa by your side, that fact had only intensified.

The cult wasn’t the last problem you faced. Far from it. Strange anomalies began surfacing—events that defied logic, creatures that shouldn’t exist, distortions in reality itself.

At first, you thought they were just isolated incidents. Freak occurrences. But after the third time you and Anaxa had to deal with something that shouldn’t be possible, you realized this wasn’t a coincidence.

Maybe that was the reason he was sent to you in the first place.

"You attract chaos" Anaxa had commented once, standing over the remains of a creature that had melted into nothingness after you defeated it.

You scoffed. “I attract chaos? What about you?”

"I am the solution to chaos."

That was debatable.

But as time passed, and the two of you continued dealing with these anomalies, you started to notice something unsettling.

If Anaxa had ended up with someone else—someone dangerous—

What would have happened?

Would he still be this person in front of you? Cold, blunt, but genuine? Or would he have been twisted into something else?

You weren’t naïve. You knew people would kill for power like his. The thought of him in the hands of someone truly evil made your stomach turn.

But he wasn’t with them. He was with you.

And despite the chaos, despite the exhaustion, despite the endless stream of bizarre encounters—

You didn’t hate this life.

You glanced at Anaxa, who was casually flipping through a book, as if the two of you hadn’t just fought some reality-warping entity an hour ago.

Yeah.

This life wasn’t so bad.

[leilawanderingaround]

Imagine Phainon abandoning his duty as the deliverancer for your cause...

They said geniuses hailed from the grove are nothing but a bunch of people who have lost their mind. One of them includes you.

The one who has angered the gods- they called you. Only it was enough to make Phainon curious. Surely you can't be that bad.

Arrogance, ambitious, heartless towards others, obsessive with forbidden knowledge. They scorn your existence, wishing for your demise yet follow your every order. Because they know it was the only way for you to stay alive.

"They shouldn't be alive to begin with"

"It was only by Cerces's grace that they still stand."

"The black tide failed to take back its creation again I see"

He imagines you to be this cold and fearsome leading figure, similar to that of Aglaea. But to his surprise, you were very... what to say... skittish?

You ignore him despite his ongoing attempts to talk to you, choosing to stay silent whenever he asked a question. Walking past him whenever you two cross paths. Or often locking the door of your study so he couldn't go in, and is even willing to skip meals just to avoid him.

"Reckless genius" he scolded inside his head as he found your door remained locked again during dinner time.

It's not like he come baring any ill intents. While yes, it's Aglaea's order to gather information. He doesn't plan on violating any rules or put anyone in harm way.

He just wished to learn more about you.

Anaxa- one of the few that you tolerate enough to barely talk to due to similar beliefs, have many time told him to drop it.

"They is not the type to bend easily. That idiot would rather die than have a proper talk to a Chrysos Heir like you" the sage said. "Best not to bother them..."

Too bad Phainon's patience has run dry at this point.

______

"So you found it..." Phainon could feel the gun's barrel pressed against the back of his head. The hero stays frozen, hands gripping the scroll tightly. His mind reeling from the information he just learned from all the scrolls inside your study. " I told you not to bother them. And you choose to ignore my warning"

Anaxa could feel the cold sweat running down his spine. He knows that the chosen ones have been sent here by the golden seamstress to find information about you but he never expected that he would be this reckless to just break in entering in board daylight, choosing the only day in the week when you weren't there to confront him.

"Did you know about this?" Phainon's voice sends tremble down Anaxa's arm. The sage swallows roughly before nodding.

"I am their partner in crime after all..." Anaxa said. His finger pressing slightly on the trigger but not enough to fire. He would like to avoid murder the deliverancer if possible. But if he insists on tattling to his allies, Anaxa wouldn't mind going down with him today just to ensure that you stay safe.

"All for you. Only for you." The sage thought as Phainon turn around. He wouldn't have anything if it wasn't for you. It's only right if he returns everything to you, for you.

"So you are saying that all we have been doing is all futile." Phainon's mind began racing. How many times did they do this? How many people have suffered and died just to continue this cursed cycle to continue? Has all he has done have been for naught?

"That I can't say..." Anaxa let out a breath he had been holding. The sage doesn't know the full extent of your research on the prophecy after all. You're not very willing to share, even with him- your closest confidant.

In a flash, Phainon turned around and promptly knocked Anaxa out cold on the floor before wending out of the room to find you. The one who could answer all of this.

_____

You knew he would come, you were waiting. Your arms crossed in front of your chest. You let out a sigh as the hero steps into your house after breaking the door down.

He stand in front of you, staring down. His blue eyes missing its usual warm gaze. Phainon's hands come to your shoulders, squeezing hard enough to bruised.

You have to stop yourself from groaning as you stare at him. Your heart beats like crazy inside of your ribcage.

" It doesn't matter" you thought. You could just start over the next cycle. And you won't fail again. But for now, you are willing to die.

Instead of the strike that you were hoping for, Phainon pull you closer, hugging your form. His hands trembling with unknown feeling.

"What do you need?" He ask. "To stop all of this... To safe everyone"

You were bewildered. What's happening here? You try to use your hand to push the hero away yet he hold you even closer, close enough that it was hard to breath properly.

"You need the core flames right? I will take them for you. I will bring you whatever you need. After that, we can get out of this together. Out of this cursed world..."

That day Phainon- the deliverancer disappeared. And someone don the mask of the Flame Reaver appeared.

[dreamdazedworld]

Okay, Anaxa brainrot that I’m going to start writing about just after I finish writing this……

“Ridiculous. In a world full of lies, I am the only truth.”

This.

This goes so well with Yandere! Anaxa like he would definitely make his darling believe that whatever he says is always the truth and never the lie, so he tells darling that the world is not a safe place to wander right now, and that he’s only trying to protect them by locking them up- in which, darling listens to.

With more information about him, the image of a manipulative Yandere just matches so well with Anaxa, well, Anaxagoras, as he tells the others to call him (he only will ever let his own darling call him that and nobody else, even if he acts like he hates it on the outside *wink wink*).

[madthetruemad]

Hey hey hey 👀 I love your pregnant!fem reader x yandere Anaxa( yandere mydei and yandere phainon) its so cute 👍.

Suddenly, I thought about fem reader as Anaxa's younger sister , do u think she will be allowed by Anaxa to call him just Brother Anaxa (in English language) or Anaxa onii-san(onii-sama, in japanese language) .

In my opinion Axana will allowed her to call him Anaxa, because she is his sister(the only family member he has) but, What about your opinion? Will Anaxa allowed to call him just Anaxa or not?

And Imagine if he knew that, Phainon and mydei and maybe both of the Astral express crew (dan heng and caelus) fall in love with her 💀, he will Overprotective brother mode on.

But, she just oblivious about their feelings towards her.

I really like about Anaxa as the type of Overprotective older brother 🤭✨

Hi hi! I'm glad you like it 💞

I think Anaxa would definitely let his little sister call him brother anaxa or maybe even drop the name altogether and call him brother or big brother! Especially if she is super young. (Anaxa definitely seems like the doting type in that sort of situation to me.)

When she gets older, i can also see Anaxa letting her just call him "Anaxa" as like most siblings do when they grow up they drop the "brother/sister" title and just call their siblings by a name or a nickname. And Anaxa? I bet he'll get sad when his sister stops calling him big brother and just calls him by name. And when she calls him "Anaxagoras"? Oh he just about has a heart attack as he scrambles to tell her to just call him "Anaxa"

Like... "please sister, Anaxagoras is what all those lowlifes who believe in prophecies and titans call me."

Will get grey hairs if his sister continues to call him Anaxagoras.

If he learned that Mydei or Phainon has a crush on his sister, he is 100% making them prove that they are worthy. But of course the tests he provides will be impossible to complete so he just pulls out his gun and tells them to start running. He will never let either of those two get close to his sister. Especially if one of them sucks at math-

As for dan heng and caelus, he is physically and mentally crying. Those two heathens will never be worthy of his sister's hand especially the one that likes to dig through trash-

You have blessed me with big brother/overprotective anaxa brainrot, thanks 🌸 (I'm grateful, this is such a great idea!!!)

[heliosunny]

Hello!!

I absolutely loved your Phainon x Siren and I was hoping you could do something like that with Anaxa as a pirate, and he finds Siren!Reader washed up on the shore. I feel the eyepatch that Anaxa has really feels like a pirate. Only if your comfortable with it!!! Thank youu

Yandere!Pirate!Anaxa x Siren!Reader

The salty wind whipped through your tangled hair as you gasped awake, throat raw and lungs aching. Waves licked at your bruised form. You had been washed ashore, the storm dragging you from the depths against your will. The sand clung to your skin, and exhaustion weighed down your limbs like chains.

“You’re awake.”

You forced your blurry vision to focus. A man stood above you, dressed in the garb of a pirate.

“You’re a siren, aren’t you?” he mused, crouching down to your level. His fingers reached forward, brushing against your cheek. You recoiled. “Not so strong now, are we?”

“Leave me be.”

He chuckled. “Oh no, no, no. I don’t think I will.” He pulled out a rolled-up map and tossed it onto the sand before you. “See this? It leads to something I desire. A treasure—one that only a creature of the sea can help me find.” His smirk widened, “Call me Anaxa. Help me, and I’ll let you go.”

Your stomach twisted painfully, hunger clawing at your insides. You could barely think, let alone negotiate. “…I can’t even move” you admitted, glaring up at him. “I’m starving.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he stood. “How inconvenient.” He turned his head slightly, calling out to one of his men. “You. Come here.”

A burly pirate stepped forward, confused but obedient. “Captain?”

Without hesitation, the man raised his pistol and fired. The deafening crack split the air. Blood sprayed across the sand, and the pirate crumpled, dead before he hit the ground.

Your kind had seen humans kill before, but this? This was different. There was no hesitation. No remorse.

Anaxa nudged the lifeless body toward you with the tip of his boot. “Eat.”

“You… you expect me to—?”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, “I need you strong. So eat.”

Slowly, you leaned forward. Your sharp nails dug into the fresh corpse, and the moment the scent of blood filled your senses, your instincts took over. You feasted, feeling warmth return to your limbs, your power thrumming beneath your skin once more.

When you were done, you wiped your mouth and stood, stretching out your limbs. Your body shifted, your tail receding, scales smoothing into soft skin. In moments, you stood before him, human in appearance.

Anaxa let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

You crossed your arms. “You have my strength now. But we need to talk about my freedom.”

He grinned. “Oh, I’m all ears.”

And thus, the real negotiations began.

The deck of the ship was alive with movement, men scrambling to their stations as the ocean stretched endlessly around them. The ship—The Black Hydra—was a monstrous vessel, her black sails cutting through the wind.

You stood at the bow, eyes locked on the horizon. The sea spoke in whispers only you could hear, the currents shifting like threads of fate beneath the ship. The treasure Anaxa sought was hidden deep within the heart of the ocean, protected by treacherous tides and creatures far worse than men. But you knew the way.

With a deep breath, you raised your hand, feeling the pulse of the water below. "Head northwest" you called over your shoulder. "The current will carry us faster there."

The crew, hardened pirates with weathered faces, exchanged glances before turning to their captain.

Anaxa stood by the helm, arms crossed over his chest.

"You heard them," he said, voice smooth but edged with command. "Northwest. Move it."

The crew obeyed, and as the ship adjusted course, the men slowly gathered around you.

"You’re somethin' else, ain't ya?" one of them chuckled, nudging your shoulder. "Never thought we'd have a siren on board!"

"Aye," another grinned. "Captain must think you're valuable if you're still breathin’."

You smirked. "Guess I'm just lucky."

The crew welcomed you easily, intrigued by your abilities and charmed by your wit. You spent the day surrounded by them, guiding the ship, teaching them of the sea’s secrets, and sharing stories of the depths. You hadn’t laughed this much in a long time.

But not everyone was pleased.

That night, Anaxa stood by the map spread across his desk, tracing the inked lines. The lantern’s glow cast shadows across his sharp features.

“You’ve been getting too comfortable” he said without looking up.

You raised a brow. “And?”

“I don’t like it.”

A scoff left your lips as you pushed off the doorframe, stepping further into the room. "Oh, forgive me, Captain. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself while leading your ship in the right direction?"

Anaxa’s jaw ticked, and in a blink, he was in front of you.

“You’re not one of them,” he murmured, “Don’t act like you are.”

"Then what am I?"

His fingers wrapped around your throat—not enough to choke, but enough to make his point. His grip was cold, like steel. "Mine."

"Is that so?"

"Don’t test me, siren. I don’t share what belongs to me."

The air between you crackled with tension, a dangerous game neither of you wanted to lose. Finally, you reached up, prying his hand off your throat.

“I’m not your possession” you said, “I’m your guide. Nothing more.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You turned to leave, but before stepping out, you glanced over your shoulder. "I suggest you get some sleep, Captain. We’ve got a long journey ahead."

And with that, you shut the door behind you, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

----

The air was thick with tension. The waves had been calm, the stars glimmering above like watchful eyes, and yet, the moment the haunting melody reached your ears, you knew.

Sirens.

Your kind.

A shiver ran down your spine as the crew, oblivious to the danger, continued their duties.

“Where the hell is Rook?” someone shouted.

You whipped around, panic seizing your chest. One of the younger crewmates—Rook—was no longer on deck. A splash echoed through the night, and your stomach twisted.

He had been lured.

Without hesitation, you bolted to the edge of the ship. The sea below was dark, but you could see shadows moving beneath the surface, circling.

They wouldn't let him go.

Cursing, you dove in.

The moment you hit the water, the ocean swallowed you whole, dragging you into its familiar embrace. Your body shifted instinctively, gills forming, tail emerging as you propelled yourself downward.

Rook was sinking fast, his body limp, his eyes half-lidded in a trance. Three sirens circled him, their forms eerily beautiful, their laughter bubbling through the depths.

One of them turned to you, recognition flashing in their expression. "You’ve forsaken your kind for them?"

You gritted your teeth, surging forward. "Let him go."

Another siren, her smile sharp as a blade, tilted her head. "Why should we? He came willingly."

"He's under your song. That’s not willing."

They only giggled in response.

You had no time for this. You lunged, grabbing Rook’s arm and kicking off the seabed with all your strength. The sirens shrieked, their claws slicing through the water, trying to pull you back. A sharp pain seared through your side as one of them slashed at you, but you pushed on, breaking through the surface with Rook clutched in your arms.

“HELP!” you choked out.

The crew scrambled into action, ropes thrown, hands reaching. Within seconds, they hauled you both up, and you collapsed onto the deck. Rook was alive, barely conscious, but alive.

Your limbs trembled as you dragged yourself upright. Without a word, you shifted back, legs replacing your tail, soaked clothes clinging to your form. You staggered toward the quarters, needing dry clothes and a moment to breathe.

But you didn’t make it far.

Because the moment you stepped into Anaxa’s room, he was already waiting.

And he was furious.

The door slammed behind you, and before you could react, a hand gripped your wrist, yanking you forward.

“The hell was that?” Anaxa’s voice was sharp as a dagger.

You ripped your arm away, scowling. “I saved your damn crew member, that’s what that was.”

“You led them to us.”

“What?”

Anaxa stepped closer, towering over you. “You heard me. They wouldn’t have attacked if you weren’t here. The moment they saw you, they acted. Coincidence?” He scoffed. “I don’t believe in those.”

Rage flared in your chest. “Are you serious right now? I nearly died getting Rook back, and you’re blaming me?”

“We don’t have accidents on my ship. Only betrayals.”

“If I wanted them dead, I wouldn’t have jumped in after him!”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. His gaze burned into yours, sharp, assessing. Then, in a move so fast it stole your breath, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You listen to me, siren. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust anything that sings men to their deaths. You may be useful, but if you so much as think of crossing me—”

You slapped his hand away, “You don’t scare me.”

“That’s your first mistake.”

A tense moment passed, the sound of the waves outside the only thing breaking the silence.

Finally, you turned toward the wardrobe, stripping off your soaked shirt without a second glance at him. “I don’t have time for your paranoia.”

Anaxa lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before chuckling. “Sleep with one eye open, little siren.”

Then he was gone.

The tension between you and Anaxa hadn’t lessened since that night. If anything, it had only grown worse. He didn’t trust you. You didn’t care.

Because soon, none of this would matter.

The treasure was close.

You stood at the ship’s bow, gripping the rail as you gazed at the horizon. The island loomed ahead, its jagged cliffs rising from the sea like broken teeth. Dark clouds churned above it, the scent of rain in the air. Everything about it screamed danger, but you had led them this far.

One last job. Then you’d be free.

"You look deep in thought."

“Just making sure we don’t wreck before we get there.”

He chuckled, stepping beside you. "How noble of you."

You shot him a look. "I do owe you, don't I?"

“I never said you did."

Liar.

The crew had grown fond of you, but Anaxa? He was different. He wasn’t pleased with how easily you had integrated. He kept you close, but not in a way that felt protective. And now, with the treasure near, you knew you had to leave before the chains tightened further.

“I assume you plan to leave after this" Anaxa mused, as if plucking the thought from your mind.

"What, you think I want to stick around?"

“You’d be a fool to think I’ll just let you walk away.”

You inhaled slowly, gripping the rail a little tighter. "We had a deal."

"Deals change."

"You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you keep talking to me."

You rolled your eyes, "Just focus on getting us to shore. We’re almost there."

Almost free.

You had always known where the treasure lay.

It was no myth, no lost legend. It was real. You had seen it before—long before Anaxa had ever laid his greedy hands on that map.

And you knew the truth he did not. This place was not unguarded.

The cave was massive, stretching endlessly into darkness, the jagged walls glistening with moisture. The air was thick with the scent of salt and something else.

The moment Anaxa and his men stepped onto the cavern floor, you felt it.

A shift in the water. A ripple of something stirring.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl vibrated through the cave.

The Kraken had awoken.

Tentacles as thick as masts crashed into the cavern, sweeping men into the abyss. The screams of the dying filled the air as the beast thrashed, its enormous form barely visible in the flickering torchlight.

Blood and seawater mixed, the treasure—golden and glimmering—half-buried beneath the carnage.

And in the midst of it all, you saw your chance.

The moment Anaxa was occupied, you turned, slipping away into the shadows. The cave had hidden paths, tunnels leading to the ocean beyond. You could escape.

You took three steps—

And then a hand snatched your wrist.

Your breath caught as you whipped around, only to meet his eye burning with fury. Even with blood splattered across his face, even with his crew being slaughtered behind him, he still had his sights locked on you.

“You little—”

You shoved him, twisting free, but it was too late. The Kraken let out a monstrous roar, its tentacle slamming into the rock above, causing the cave to collapse.

The force knocked you off your feet.

Everything spun—water rushed in, bodies were crushed, the world turned upside down.

For a moment, there was nothing but blackness.

When you awoke, your body ached all over. Your head was spinning, and the unmistakable scent of him filled your lungs.

You were in his quarters.

Trapped. Again.

Your wrists were bound—loosely, but enough to remind you that you had failed.

The ship swayed gently, the distant sound of the surviving crew moving about above deck.

The treasure. The Kraken. Anaxa.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door creaked open.

He stepped inside, still wearing the evidence of battle—his coat was torn, blood streaked across his face, some his, some not.

“Thought you could run?”

You didn’t answer.

He walked closer, boots echoing against the wooden floor. “Not very smart, siren.”

“Let me go.”

He laughed. “Oh, no.” He leaned down, caging you between his arms. “After what you pulled?” His hand brushed against your cheek mockingly. “I should kill you.”

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Then why don’t you?”

His smirk widened, but his grip on your chin was bruising now. His voice was a whisper, filled with something far worse than anger.

“Because you still belong to me.”

Anaxa watched you like a predator. You were still catching your breath, mind racing for a way out, when he reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A small, glimmering object.

The moment your eyes landed on it, your blood ran cold.

It was a piece of coral—not just any coral. A deep crimson shard, carved with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly in the dim light of his quarters. A cursed relic.

Where the hell had he found that?

“I see you recognize it.”

You forced your expression into something neutral, but it was pointless. He had already seen the truth in your eyes.

“Funny thing” he mused, rolling the shard between his fingers. “I was hoping for gold, power—something to make all this bloodshed worth it. But instead, I find this.” He held it up. “A siren’s leash.”

“You were planning to leave me behind the moment we found the treasure, weren’t you?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Anaxa sighed dramatically. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

He crouched in front of you, holding up the coral shard between two fingers. “Do you know what happens when I break this?”

Of course you did.

It would bind you. Completely.

Siren magic was tied to the ocean—fluid, untamed, and free. But there were objects, ancient relics, crafted by those who feared your kind, designed to chain you to a master. If he shattered that shard, you wouldn’t just be trapped on this ship.

"I could keep you forever, you know. No more running. No more smart little tricks."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

His fingers tightened around the coral.

If Anaxa truly shattered that shard—if he truly owned you—then you’d rather throw yourself into the sea and let it swallow you whole.

Anaxa held the cursed shard between his fingers, twirling it lazily as if it meant nothing—when in reality, you knew it meant everything.

Your freedom. Your will. Your very soul.

He had no idea what kind of power he was toying with.

You gritted your teeth, wrists still bound, muscles tensing as he loomed over you. He liked this—the control, the power.

He liked you under his boot.

“You’re being difficult” he murmured, “You know, siren, I’d rather not break this.” His thumb dragged lazily over your bottom lip, “It would be so much easier if you’d just—"

Your patience snapped.

With the last of your strength, you lunged forward.

Your forehead slammed into his, knocking him back with a sharp curse. You twisted your wrists, pushing past the burning pain as your claws—half-shifted in desperation—ripped through the bindings.

Before he could recover, you grabbed the shard from his hands, digging your nails into his wrist as you did.

He hissed as blood trickled from where you scratched him, “Oh, you little—”

You didn’t let him finish.

With a fierce shove, you pinned him to the floor, straddling his waist, the cursed shard now in your grasp.

Your chance. You could kill him now. Break free. Take the shard and destroy it before he could ever use it against you.

But—

You hesitated.

For one brief, fatal second.

And that was all he needed.

A sharp yank at your hair sent you reeling backward with a gasp. Before you could react, he flipped you over, slamming you down against the wooden floor.

A rush of air left your lungs as his weight pressed down on your back.

Your fingers clenched around the shard, refusing to let go—until he pried your wrist back, nearly snapping it, forcing the cursed object from your grasp.

It clattered onto the floor, out of reach.

You struggled, thrashing beneath him, but it was useless. He was heavier, stronger, his grip unrelenting. His breath was hot against your ear as he pressed his body flush against yours.

“I didn’t want to do this” he said, and you hated the way his tone almost sounded… regretful. His fingers trailed along the sensitive skin of your neck, ghosting down your shoulders in a mockingly gentle touch.

A shudder crawled up your spine as he reached your ears, brushing over them with slow, deliberate strokes.

Sirens were creatures of instinct. And he knew where to touch, where to exploit.

“You could’ve just worked with me” he whispered. His lips almost grazed your ear. “I would’ve given you anything.”

“Liar!” you spat.

“Fine. Maybe not anything.” His fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. “But I would’ve made it easier for you. I could’ve treated you well.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

As if sensing your resistance, he let out a soft sigh, his free hand trailing down your back. “You really are stubborn,” he mused, “But I don’t mind breaking you.”

You felt him shift, and then—

crack

The sound echoed in your ears.

Your heart stopped. Because you knew exactly what it was.

The shard. It lay shattered in his palm, crimson fragments glinting in the dim candlelight.

A sudden, unnatural warmth coiled around your limbs, sinking into your skin. Your muscles locked, your body stiffening as an invisible force coiled around your very soul.

Anaxa sighed, tossing the broken pieces aside like trash.

“Now… you’re mine.”