I Have The Disgusting Ability To Wear The Same Shit For Long But Reverie Walks Around Serving Cunt, Its

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

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

Yandere!Anaxa x Reader

Scratch. Scratch.

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

And then, Anaxa sat down beside you.

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

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

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

“Then don’t slow me down.”

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

“Then let’s not waste time.”

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

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

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

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

“I can feel you staring.”

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

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

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

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

“…See you tomorrow then”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, you carried on.

At least, until he collapsed.

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

“Anaxa—”

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

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

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

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

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

Beside you, Anaxa stirred faintly in his fevered sleep.

You shook your head, refocusing on your work.

It wasn’t your problem. Right?

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

“…You stayed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go rest” you instructed simply.

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

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

You turned, heading home without a second thought.

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

His plan had succeeded.

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

It had been worth every moment of discomfort.

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

After all, there was still more to do.

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

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

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

“Yes?”

You squinted. “Were you even listening?”

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

“…Not entirely” he admitted.

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

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

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

But right now, his mind was full of you.

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

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

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

His jaw tensed slightly. How frustrating.

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

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

But the truth was far from that.

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

---

Anaxa was absent the next day.

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

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can handle a walk home.”

“Stay the night. It’s safer.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then—

The news broadcasting on the TV got your attention.

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

You frowned. Perfect timing.

“It seems you have no choice.”

“Alright, fine. Just for the night.”

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

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

It was… neat. Impeccably so.

Not surprising.

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

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

Fate must have been on his side tonight.

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

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

“I’ll make something to eat.”

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

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

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

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

“You should sleep.”

“Yeah, I probably should. I’ll just—”

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

“That’s unnecessary. It’s your bed.”

“You’re the guest.”

“That’s not—”

“Are we really arguing about this?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment.

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

Another hum.

Then silence.

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

For a long moment, he simply watched.

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

This—this was rare.

With one last glance, he closed his eyes.

Tonight, at least, he could rest easy.

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need a break.”

“What?”

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

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

“Why not?”

“You don’t exactly scream ‘relaxation’”

“I’m not a machine, you know.”

Debatable.

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

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

Anaxa smirked. “The park.”

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

The unfortunate reality?

The sky had other plans.

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

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

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

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

“Come on.”

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

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

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

“Oh? Now it’s my fault?”

You huffed, exasperated. “Yes. Absolutely.”

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

“How long do you think this will last?”

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

“I suppose we’ll have to find out.”

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

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

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

You should have known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to argue. You really did.

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

Somewhere in the middle of the night, you stirred.

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

Anaxa was lying next to you.

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

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

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

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

“…What are you doing?”

“I was going to—uh, move you.”

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

“…Fine.”

Resigned, you gave up and lay back down.

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

It was a day off.

For once, you had the luxury of sleeping in.

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

Your head was resting against Anaxa’s chest.

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

“…Going somewhere?”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

----

The next week flew by in a blur.

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

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

This meant one thing: no more group work.

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

You were fine with it.

Anaxa, however, was not.

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

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

It was unacceptable.

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

Which meant—he would have to change that.

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

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

The professor wanted to see you.

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

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

"Is something wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Finally here?"

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

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

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

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

Except it wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

"Since when?"

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

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

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

"I don’t—"

"You do."

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

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

But he had already anticipated that.

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

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

"For what?"

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

"That’s a low move, even for you."

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitated.

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

But… was he wrong?

You sighed.

"Fine..."

----

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

That was too easy.

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

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

And he did.

It was just one step closer.

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

It started with one mistake.

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

But then it happened again.

And again.

Your academic performance began to plummet.

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

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

This… this wasn’t just random errors.

Something was wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t pinpoint what.

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

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

“You’re overthinking again.”

You flinched slightly at the familiar voice.

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

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

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

“Can you check it for me?”

“Of course”

The more you struggled, the more you needed him.

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

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

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

It was easier to rely on him.

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

Every page was about you.

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

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

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

Every detail was written in precise, calculated handwriting.

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

You needed to leave.

Now.

"Going somewhere?"

"I—I need to—"

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

"I—I’m fine...I just…"

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

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

When you woke up, the notebook was gone.

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

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

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

The notebook. The pages. The proof—

But there was nothing.

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

That’s all it was.

Been seeing a disturbing amount of Pro-ED content on my FY so I’m going to counteract this with this:

YOUR F/O LOVES YOU! No matter what you eat! They love your rolls, your curves, your belly! They’re apart of you and love it all AS MUCH as every other part of you! It’s all beautiful to them!

self shipping is like the biggest act of self love. it genuinely feels so healing. like yes I deserve love. yes I deserve a happy and fulfilling relationship. yes this 300 year old cryptid would smooch me.

anaxa/goras/ 🌌

why is my moot marrying someone I dont know… how do I know this person can treat you right.. They didnt pass the trial..

Im actually in shambles…🥀🥀🥀

@ellaaa505 and I are now married.

this is how we met, cute isn’t it?

Romance time

I hope yall think of me when you see anaxa guys🥀🥀

has this meme been done before? most likely

he’s such a hear me out idc I want him

VALENCRINGE

Lazy rushed entry for the Valencringe contest!! I need those rainbow cubes... STAT!!! Truthless Recluse and matching Shadow Milk costume when I get you. Ohh when I get you WHEN I

oh how I love her…

then there is the blue jester idk/j

Everytime Scaramouche/Wanderer is depicted as a fuckboy an angel FUCKING EXPLODES AND DROWNS IN ITS OWN GUTS

um hi this is a super quick lazy doodle but i think he's so neat

gonna be so honest, i havent played hsr in 6 months but this guy got me back into it