for all that anaxagoras’ students think he is a tyrant, he thinks you are the bigger menace though he would be loath to admit that to anyone. no one would believe him, anyway. you are charming and pretty, a favourite amongst all the students at the grove of epiphany.
it is only around him that your impish side begins to show. he’s asked you about it many times, and each time, your answer is the same: “you’re so prickly, anaxa. loosen up a little!”
he’s quite sure loosening up doesn’t entail you distracting him from his work. he scribbles down his notes furiously, keeping his head down and his eyes fixed firmly on the notebook in front of him. he cannot lose. he mustn’t, or whatever small thread of dignity he has left will snap—though the outcome is hardly ever something horrible. it’s the opposite, truthfully.
he mustn’t lose focus, because if he does, he’s not sure he will ever stop falling into your little trapdoor of mnestia’s creation. he wouldn’t ever want to, and that’s the biggest problem, because anaxa is greedy.
he is greedy for knowledge, and he is greedy for you. you seem to constantly take advantage of this.
if anaxa were to lift his head and tilt it to his right, he would find you leaning against his desk, a cheeky smile playing at your lips. he knows you will tempt him with those eyes of yours, always dancing about with joy, or your fingers, trailing over his arm and coming to rest on his elbow.
“are you really going to ignore me?” you whisper right by his ear.
anaxa swallows down his reply, dipping his pen into his inkwell. your answering laugh rings like a silver bell, soft and tinkling.
anaxa stiffens when he feels you press your lips to his earlobe, before you trail down and kiss the side of his jaw. your lips leave sweet blossoms in their wake, or so it feels to the researcher—especially when you dip your head and kiss his cheek next. he sets his pen down.
“i don’t have much of a choice in the matter, do i?” he mumbles.
“you don’t,” you say, laughing again. “it’s good you realised early.”
you place your hand under his chin and turn his head to the other side, where you press a kiss to his other cheek and trail down. when anaxa tries to stop your attempts by gently covering your mouth with his ink-stained fingers, you kiss his palm. he concedes defeat, and brings a hand to the back of your neck so he can kiss your lips easier.
#42. distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead. requested by anon!
Anaxa has not been able to feel or even breathe this freely in years. It's quiet except for the gentle whistle of the wind. You're sitting down together on the grass in the middle of a lush green field. You gently, but sternly had to force Anaxagoras to leave his stuffy lab to finally take a breather. And it works like a charm. He finally seems to relax, all thoughts in his head growing quiet, his mind giving up on complicated matters and just enjoying your calm grounding presence. The type of presence he has always yearned for, but has lacked for years in his life until you appeared.
Throughout the field there are scattered daisies like small stars littering the night sky. You can’t resist the urge to pluck one and twirl it a bit in your fingers to admire it. It’s pretty, but pales in comparison to the beautiful scholar sitting next to you. He currently seems to be zoning out, focused on the scenery, so you turn to him to scan his features and remind yourself how lucky, yet deserving you are to have such an extraordinary person in your life.
Then, purely by instinct, you decided to place the dainty flower in his hair, behind his ear. Adding pretty to gorgeous, a little star swimming in his seafoam hair. Of course Anaxagoras immediately notices and has the audacity to scoff a little while reaching to remove it. However one look at your calm gaze and serene smile have his hand retracting instantly. He reprimands you for flattering him needlessly, but doesn’t comment on the slight childishness of it all, so it’s safe to say he appreciates the gesture nonetheless. Realising you’ve somehow managed to make Anaxa weak for all your small spontaneous acts of affection over the years makes your heart grow even fonder. With that in mind you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, then lean on his shoulder and swear to continue being both his biggest weakness and biggest strength going forward.
i had a thought about anaxa,,,, like,,, imagine ur coworkers at the grove and only really talk in passing but he finds out that you also have a fondness for dromases and he like comes and like, passive aggressively asks you on a date (that he swears ISNT a date) to go and feed and pet the dromases at the workshop,,, like just hanging out with anaxa and a dromas,,, it's so good (this isn't necessarily a request but if ur willing i think it could be a cute little oneshot ehe)
Anaxagoras x GN!Reader
A/N : i LOVE this and i LOVE you for sending me this. to those who enjoy my writing (if there even are any out there), please feel free to send me requests/thoughts! in fact, i ENCOURAGE you to. Sorry if this wasn't up to your expectations !! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤
"Indifferent."
Such was the claim that most people would argue of Anaxagoras's character- yet the sight infront of you proved anything but. His eyes were glinting with a sort of excitement in them, yet his cheeks were slightly flushed. Despite that, he looked at you intently- the offer that he had extended lingering in the air.
To the furthest extent of your knowledge, the two of you were merely peers- interacting in passing or whenever duty demanded it so. He respected you yes, but Anaxagoras regarded you as nothing more than a co-worker. Consequently, you were left in a state of stunned disbelief at a sudden and abrupt invitation to visit the dromases together.
He had caught wind of your fondness for dromases when he overheard two students leaving your office.
"Did you see Professor Y/N's dromas collection just now?" one had exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise.
"Yeah, it's insane!" the other replied, nodding enthusiastically.
"I never knew they fancied dromases!"
"In all honesty, me neither."
This casual exchange, filled with surprise, reached Anaxagoras, prompting him to mutter 'dromases?' under his breath. The two students turned towards Anaxa's murmurs, realizing his presence.
"Ah- uhm... Hello Professor..."
In response, Anaxa merely mumbled to himself, then abruptly bursted into laughter and proceeded to walk away.
Next thing he knows, he's standing before you, about to extend an invitation to go see the dromases with him. The two of you stood in silence, aside from the chatter of students nearby mingling in the air. Unfortunately, you decided to take the initiative and be the one to kickstart the conversation, as you both had been staring at each other for a bit too long.
"... Good day, Professor Anaxagoras. Is there anything you require from me?"
"... Yes. I have heard of your profound admiration for dromases, and frankly, I must say, I wholeheartedly endorse it. It is truly invigorating to encounter a kindred spirit who shares the same enlightenment regarding the magnificence of dromases."
You tilt your head, smiling. "Is that so? I think I have indeed heard from others that you had a soft spot for dromases."
"Well, I do. That is why, I have come to invite you to visit the dromas workshop with me."
A pause.
"Huh?"
"It... It is not as though you have more pressing matters to attend to, correct? I mean, who would not wish to witness the majestic dromases? They are awaiting someone to acknowledge their grandeur. I suppose if you prefer to spend your day adhering to your mundane routine, that is entirely your prerogative." He scoffed, turning away from your gaze.
...
"Are you asking me out on a date?" You inquired in a slightly teasing lilt.
"You-" He paused, restraining himself from expressing any impolite remarks towards you. "Hmph. This is not a date; it is merely an invitation to jointly appreciate the wonders of Amphoreus. It presents an opportunity to exchange insights... However. if you prefer to refer to it as a 'date,' then I shall acquiesce."
You laughed softly. And titans, he didn't know why your laugh sounded so sweet- but it did. He quickly shot that thought down, internally cursing himself.
"I jest. I'd be delighted to visit the dromases with you!"
He immediately showed a change in demeanor, with a subtle smile emerging on his complex. "I am very pleased to hear that. Thus, we shall proceed to the workshop without delay. This instance." He haphazardly turned and walked away, mumbling multiple things under his breath and expecting you to trail him.
At the workshop, the two of you fed and pat dromases left and right. And yet, the whole time, Anaxa's one eye kept drifting towards you instead of focusing on the dromases before him.
"Did you know: The dromas language has thirty-two different regional variants." Anaxa stated at some point in time.
"I actually do infact know!" you exclaimed.
"... Neat." He mumbled, a small smile plastered on his face (one that he tried to wipe away, to no avail).
Throughout the day, you two shared facts about dromases with eachother, and Anaxa found himself enjoying this more than he had anticipated it. You were very knowledgeable regarding dromases, and actually had extensive experience with them. Consequently, you shared numerous narratives about these creatures with Anaxa, who listened with great enthusiasm.
At the end of the date (heh), Anaxagoras walked back to the Grove with you with a content grin on his face.
Safe to say, expect you'll be doing this quite often with him from now on. Don't worry, he'll make the time.
A/N : I'm sorry if it turned really ass towards the end. I was desperate to go to sleep but i really wanted to finish this for you ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
ʚɞ So I'll be the loser in this game, I'll be the bad guy in this play ʚɞ
Pairings: Anaxa x Reader
Summery: A genius child in the Grove of Epiphany had no one but his sister to call his companion. Children played, gossiped, laughed— as he watched out of everyone's gaze. Yet, you had glanced at him, smiled at him. He yearned for it— that look, that laugh. But how could he? After the news that you have become a priestess, become everything he opposes?
Tags: Angst, childhood friends, forbidden love, priestess!Reader, implied fem!Reader (they're js called a priestess, u can change it in ur mind), yearning, one-sided love
A/N: im so scared to post this i will jinja kill u Tumblr, anyways everybody slime @anaxasfavsoulmate, they hate on my wife daily 😡 also new layout 🤤
The Grove of Epiphany had always been quiet, a sanctuary of green shadows and soft sunlight that filtered through the trees. When Anaxa was a child, he often sat beneath the high branches with a book or a half-finished invention, fingers smudged with ink and gears scattered across the mossy ground. The other children called him “weird,” “too smart,” or worse, but he didn’t mind. Mostly. He would watch from the edge of the tree branches, his sharp eyes following the games and laughter with a strange, longing curiosity.
And then, one day, he saw you.
You were bright, impossibly bright, like the sun had chosen a small body and wrapped it in laughter. Even when the other children ignored him, even when his small gadgets failed or his words tumbled out wrong, you had glanced his way. That glance—simple, fleeting, yet radiant—had been enough. It had been enough to make the hours of solitude in the grove feel like a pale prelude to something vital.
Driven by a desperate hope, Anaxa had poured all his cleverness into creating a small contraption for you—a little mechanical bird that fluttered when you wound it. He had presented it with trembling hands, heart hammering as he watched your eyes light up with delight. You had smiled, gently, as though you understood him, and then moved on to your games without a thought. But he had not moved on. That smile—so soft, so full of life—etched itself into him like a permanent mark.
Years passed, and the world darkened. The Black Tide claimed his sister, the only other light in his life. The grief left him hollow, and yet, beneath that hollowness, a small ember endured—a yearning for something new to guide him, something to make him whole again. That ember, inevitably, became you. The longing stitched itself into every calculated thought, every quiet plan, every cold expression he allowed the world to see.
So when the news reached him—that you had been promoted to a priestess at a temple, devoted to the gods he so defiantly opposed—he could barely breathe. His hands clenched around the edges of his coat, nails digging into the fabric as if the material itself could anchor him to sanity. You, worshiping the Titans, kneeling at the feet of beings he had spent a lifetime opposing… how could he still desire you? How could his heart betray him so completely?
He tried to push it down. He tried to harden himself. Among the other Chrysos Heirs, he maintained his usual composure, frowning at those who dared approach too closely, keeping his distance even from friends. And yet, in the dead of night, when the rest of the world slept and the moon spilled silver across the empty Grove, he found himself wandering toward your temple, longing for a glimpse, a smile, a fragment of the warmth he remembered.
He found you once, kneeling in the soft glow of candlelight, chanting with a serene composure that made his chest ache. You hadn’t noticed him—of course you hadn’t—but the way the light brushed your hair, the way your voice carried softly through the halls, it was enough to make him ache with a longing that had no reason, no logic.
“…Anaxagoras,” a sharp whisper of your voice echoed behind him the first time he approached too closely. He froze, heart thudding violently. You stood with your hands folded, expression stern, eyes full of the venomous words that the priests had whispered to poison your ears. “You shouldn’t be here. You… you’re nothing but a defiance to everything this temple stands for.”
He wanted to say something clever, something sharp in return, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he only let his frown deepen, and in the silence between them, he let himself be seen—not as a scholar, not as a defiant heir, but as the boy who had once crafted a gadget just to make you smile.
“I… I only wanted to see you,” he said finally, voice low and rough. His hands twitched slightly, fingers brushing the edge of the stone column behind him. “That… that is all.”
You shook your head, lips tight. “You have no right. You—” You stopped, swallowing hard as a faint tremor betrayed the tension beneath your words. “…You don’t belong here, Blasphemer.”
And yet, he could feel it, faint and fragile, that tiny crack in your resolve. A hesitation. A thought that maybe, despite all the walls the temple and its doctrines had built between you, you remembered something of him. Something of the boy in the Grove who had dared to hope.
Anaxa stepped closer, though only an inch, careful not to violate your space. His voice softened, almost inaudible: “I want… I want you to see me. Not the Blasphemer, not the Heir, not the man they paint me to be. Just me. As I am.”
You looked at him then, eyes flickering with conflict. Hatred, duty, resentment—they all swirled, yet beneath them, unspoken and forbidden, lingered something else. Recognition. A memory of a smile that had once held warmth beyond reason, beyond logic.
“I—” you began, then faltered. The silence stretched, heavy, aching.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back, to don again the mask the world expected. “…I cannot ask more. But I will wait. I will wait… until you can see me without the weight of their words.”
And even as you turned to retreat into the temple, he remained rooted to the stone floor, heart wrung dry by longing, yet stubbornly alive with hope. A cruel, impossible hope, but hope nonetheless—that one day, the smile you had given him as a child might return, untainted, just for him.
The Grove of Epiphany waited silently behind him, shadows stretching long across the matted bricks, a witness to the impossible, aching love of a boy who had grown into a man too careful, too proud, yet hopelessly and entirely undone by the light that was you.
in which you vent and open up your feelings to anaxa... (just read this if youd feeling down or something this is very fluffy and comforty)
A deafening silence seeped into the atmosphere, thick and oppressive, as soon as you shared your troubles with Anaxagoras. The air felt heavy, as if the very walls were closing in, muffling your words and emotions. Thankfully, the stillness shattered like glass when his mellifluous voice cut through the tension.
"Thank you," he murmured, his head dipped slightly, as if he bore the weight of your burdens.
"Huh?"
"It must be difficult," he paused, his brow furrowing with empathy, "to bare your soul like that. And to me, of all people." He stepped closer, his presence both calming and reassuring, while you instinctively shrank back, feeling vulnerable. With a gentle sigh, he raised his hand, resting it softly atop your head, a gesture of comfort. "I am not one for platitudes," he remarked, his tone cold, but not exactly apathetic, "but allow me to share this with you."
The lights above hummed gently, its buzz the only thing interweaving itself through the short silence that followed.
"You are an exception." He- albeit uncharacteristically- uttered with surprising tenderness, his hand still cradling your hair. "Take pride in that. Of all people, I choose to acknowledge you. You transcend the mundane." He leaned in slightly, his eyes piercing. "In a world so often draped in dullness, your light shines with an intensity that cannot be ignored. Embrace it. Do not shy away from the brilliance that is you." he continued, his voice a low, intoxicating whisper. "My love for you transcends Mnestia and Cerces. It is a love so profound that it shatters the very essence of romance, and a love so immense that it transcends all logic and reason."
His words begun to come to a slow halt. Gently, he enveloped your entire being in a tender embrace. His arms were icy- strikingly cold- but they brought an unparalleled warmth, a sensation you had never experienced before. The detached and indifferent blasphemer was now cradling you in his hold. Then, he released you, placing his hands on your shoulders, his forehead resting softly against yours, only muttering one sentence:
"I will always be right beside you, beloved."
a/n: ohmygod im so sleepy ಥ‿ಥ i hope you enjoyed thank you so much for reading i love anaxagorassasaagagagsggagagagagaggaa
ʚɞ Hold on, and hope that we'll find our way back in the end ʚɞ
Pairings: Anaxa x Reader
Summery: Receiving a gift from Professor Anaxagoras on white day! (based on the official art desc)
Tags: Fluff, White Day special, shopkeeper!Reader (can yall tell I love this trope), fake idgafer Anaxa
A/N: wasn't going to write for him bc he alr had an art, then the devil ( @anaxasfavsoulmate) whispered into my ear and told me to do it 🤫
The laboratory smelled faintly of metal and parchment, faint whiffs of ink lingering among the glass beakers and stacks of carefully annotated notes. Moonlight light slanted through the tall windows, illuminating the precise lines of charts and equations that littered the desk. Anaxa hovered over a small, neatly wrapped box, his expression the picture of quiet calculation.
He had spent hours—perhaps days—preparing this gift. It wasn’t elaborate in a flamboyant sense, nor was it particularly flashy. Instead, it had been subjected to the rigor of his mind: a careful study of the variables, a calculation of optimal density, texture, and even scent. Deviating from the immutable production protocols found in the manual, he had introduced a host of unknown variables, each accounted for meticulously. The result, by his own cold yet precise estimation, was perfect.
Yet standing now in front of your shop, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous. The equations and hypotheses that usually governed his every action seemed useless. The box in his hands felt absurdly fragile. Even the act of walking toward you had been rehearsed in his mind dozens of times, each step carefully considered.
“…They should like it,” he muttered under his breath, brushing a strand of hair back from his forehead. “Statistically, it meets all conditions for approval.”
The little bell above your shop door chimed as you emerged, carrying a basket of fresh pastries. Your eyes met his, curious and warm, and something in the precision of his posture faltered. He straightened instantly, forcing his expression back to its usual calm neutrality.
“Good morning,” he said, voice measured. “I… have something for you.”
“For me?” you asked, tilting your head with that easy, radiant curiosity that made him pause mid-step.
“Yes,” he replied. “…For White Day. You gave me sweets on Valentine’s Day, and I have determined—through logical extrapolation—that it is proper to reciprocate.”
You smiled faintly, stepping closer. “That’s thoughtful of you.”
Anaxa offered the small box, his hands steady but slightly tense. He had practiced this gesture countless times in front of the mirror, calculating the optimal angle for presenting it, the minimal distance to ensure it appeared neither too formal nor too casual. The equations said it was perfect—but when your fingers touched the box to take it, he felt a shock that no formula could predict.
You untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside were confections unlike any you had seen before: smooth, almost glassy in texture, subtly layered, and shaped with a geometry that was precise but elegant. You lifted one carefully, letting your fingers brush the surface.
“It’s… fascinating,” you whispered. “What’s it made of?”
Anaxa inclined his head slightly, watching you with eyes that were always calculating yet somehow softer now. “The texture is the result of a precise ratio of components,” he explained, tone clinical yet with a faint trace of pride. “I have verified the outcome through repeated trials. Optimal firmness, optimal sweetness, optimal melting point. Statistically, it should be entirely satisfying.”
You laughed softly, a warm sound that made the scholar’s pulse, for the briefest moment, feel slightly less orderly. “Optimal? That’s very… you.”
He allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Efficiency is preferable to excess.” He paused, then added quietly, “…But my goal was not merely statistical satisfaction. I wished it to convey… regard.”
Your gaze softened, and you lifted one of the confections, tasting it carefully. The flavor was subtly layered, the texture unlike anything you had experienced—smooth and firm, almost ethereal.
“It’s… amazing,” you said, smiling warmly. “You really thought of everything.”
Anaxa inclined his head, modest despite the precision of his calculations. “I did not wish it to be otherwise,” he said. “…I hoped it would please you.”
You held the confection between your fingers, eyes meeting his. “It does. More than you could know.”
For a moment, the meticulous scholar allowed himself a rare lapse in composure, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Good,” he murmured. “Then my calculations… are validated.”
“And your thoughtfulness,” you added gently. “That can’t be measured by any formula.”
Anaxa tilted his head, contemplative, then offered the smallest of bows. “…Acknowledged. I will… strive to maintain this standard in the future.”
You smiled, holding the gift close. “I think you’ve already exceeded it.”
And for once, the equations and protocols were irrelevant. The act, the care, the quiet affection—all of it spoke more clearly than any calculation ever could.
You laid on your shared bed, one of his arms effectively wrapped around your neck while the other held his book upright. You stole his pen just before bed, shoving it in your pocket with a not-so-discreet grin plastered on your face.
Of course, now that you were in position, you slowly withdrew the pen from your pockets and began doodling on his inner arm cradling your neck. While Anaxa already knew what you were doing, he merely sighed and shifted slightly to give you a better angle.
After a while, you drew a mutlitude of things - ranging from dromases, to algebraic expressions, to chemical formulas... The list goes on forever! Hearing you snicker and giggle at the work of art, Anaxa finally withdrew his arm to see what sort of cruel mutations you had done to his poor appendage. Sure enough, he was met with a whirlwind of your silly little doodles across his inner arm. A smile breaks out on his face.
"You drew the dromas's face inacurately. The proportions are uneven. The eyes are positioned too closely together. And they're slightly oversized." He noted, his words blunt but carrying warmth that was only shown to you.
His gaze shifted from his arm to you, closing his book and placing it on the nightstand beside him. He then proceeded to roll over snd face you fully, that smug smile still sewn on your complex.
He pinches your cheeks. You flail. "You're lucky I love you." he scoffs, "and that you're cute."
Much, much more beautiful than any other persons' he knows of. Just when he believed his day had reached its pinnacle upon catching a glimpse of you, your radiant smile effortlessly shattered that notion, revealing an even greater joy.
Its vivid warmth easily rivaled the bright, beaming sun's, yet the solace it brought to him was equal to the tranquility of the moon. Each time your lips lifted up into even the smallest hint of a grin, he wanted nothing more than to lean into it and capture your lips in his.
He wondered how such a valuable sight emerged from such trivial gestures, but he wasn't complaining. You smiled when he gifted you something, when he took you somewhere, when he sat next to you, when he conversed to you - everything.
And yet, he is clueless on why - no, how - you were still smiling in this situation. Wrapped in his embrace, a dark hue of crimson red gushed from your chest, cascading down to pool on the ground below you two, staining his clothes in the process. The air was thick with debris and anguished cries, intertwining in a haunting symphony that seemed to mock the fragile moment between you two.
And yet, you still smiled.
Unfortunately, the warmth of it had been washed away by the events that had occured, and... By his tears that fell on your face. Or was it your tears that rolled down your cheeks? Maybe both of yours.
Nevertheless, he gently cradled your body that whose life was fading.
It began from your limbs, they slowly grew cold, reminding him of a winter that he had spent with you previously. Only difference now is that, the joy he felt from before was replaced with heavy, profound despair. Then it reached your eyes, their shine slowly dulled until it was completely extinguished. Those orbs that gazed at him with adoration. With hope. With love. Until finally...
Your smile finally lost its ardor.
It was still there, yet... it also wasn't. He could've, should've prevented this. But he failed. And the price he had to pay?
You and your beautiful smile.
comments are appreciated !! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊
a/n: i was feeling sad and therefore and i decided im bringing everyone down with me. laughs hysterically
