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bechloesupercorp · 2 years

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How presumptuous of her.

The crowds were thinning, chaos waning, with the rhythmic plunk thwap of weapons and fists. Her trusty bo staff rested in her hand, gliding smoothly through the air in search of its next victim.

Taking stock of her sisters, her gaze shifted to Ava, my love, adoration gracing her lips. Hands on knees, Ava's eyes lit up as she noticed her admirer. The beginning of a wide grin stretching over her-

Her face dropped. "BEA-"

It happened so fast. A sharp pain searing her side as a Tarask appeared, watching its claw swipe, sending Ava flying with a single sweep. Cruciform sword dangling in the air as it slipped from Ava's grasp.

Beatrice saw red. Piping hot furor running through her veins, charging towards the Tarask. Ducking under a claw as it swiped at her, she scooped up the sword, a sharp thrust straight through its heart, a feral scream ripping itself from her lips.

She didn’t even wait to see it fall, sliding to her knees at Ava’s side. Her eyes were shut, a trail of deep crimson dripping from Ava’s lips.

“No, no, no, my love,” she begged, watching blood mix into the dirt. “Stay with me Ava,” she breathed, ignoring the pull at her ribs as she cradled her lover. “In this life, Ava. In this life.”

— — —

She felt numb. The lights were too bright, floors squeaked with each step. Blood clinging to her skin, some not even dry yet. Beatrice had been a patient person for as long as she can remember. Just a child, back straight, alone, outside the cold doors of government offices. She’d learned fast.

But now, under the glare of hospital lights, this isn’t patience. It’s torment. Tension running a line down her back, bloodstained hands wringing in the stilted silence. Her side ached, sometimes stabbing. (“I just pulled something,” she’d protested, four hours ago, when Lilith tried to haul her into a consulting room.) Twenty hours. Twenty hours, since Ava was rushed away, weak, gasping breaths and the Halo in her back, devoid of light. So she waited, missing the slow saturation of her tactical habit, red droplets beading along the hem.

— — —

Fuck. It got me good. Ava groaned, eyes fluttering open. Her entire body ached. But that didn’t matter, as a hot hand rested in her own, tight but gentle. Strange, she thought to herself. Bea always ran cold.

"Bea," she croaked, cotton filling her mouth.

Glazed brown eyes shot up, wobbly landing on her face. "Ava," the sister warrior sobbed, tear tracks clearing lines through the dust coating her face.

She blinked drearily, squeezing the hand clutching hers to comfort, sheer exhaustion threatening to shut her eyelids. "I love you."

"I love you too." A warm trembling hand lingered on her cheek, and Ava leaned into the soft caress. She could hear the shaky breaths, like Bea was trying to restrain herself, holding in all the emotions that threatened to overwhelm.

"I'm okay Bea," she promised, a beat passed, relief diffusing into the air. "In this life."

"In this life," Bea echoed, a dazed look in her eyes. Her head bobbled slightly with each breath, swaying softly with each sluggish blink.

Ava furrowed her brows, not missing the subdued, almost slurred, intonation of her best friend's voice. Nor the pallid skin tone she was sporting.

"Bea," she mumbled, carefully grasping her wrist, stilling her lover's burning hand.

"I'm fine," Bea insisted, stubborn as ever. But the lethargy persisted.

Fatigue weighed heavy on Ava's face, and Bea could tell. "Go to sleep, darling," she murmured, almost keeling over to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be here when you wake." The heat radiating off her lips set off faint alarms in the back of Ava's head, but her eyes slipped closed on their own accord.

— — —

And she was. The second time Ava woke, just a slight twinge in her muscles, Bea was asleep, slumped partially over her lap, hands still entwined. A fond smile sprouted on her lips at the sight. She must have been exhausted.

Tenderly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from the girl’s pale forehead, her fingers grazing the skin instead. Scorching currents ran under her touch. Alarms blaring in her head as she sat up, jostling the girl as she did. Bea stayed still.

“Bea?” she called, panic clenching her chest.

Silence.

“Beatrice!” she ordered, shaking the limp form. Please wake up, please wake up. Bea’s head just lolled, pale lips parted by strained gasps for air.

“Bea!” she screamed, Halo pulsing as she turned her over.

A giant bloodstain bloomed over the blankets, a deafening trickle dripping to the floor.

— — —

Muted beeping echoed in her ears. A deep ache reverberated through her body, drained. Hushed voices slowly came into focus, with soothing familiarity. Good, her friends are okay.

She pried her eyes open, blinking blearily, She shifted her head, needing visual proof that her family was safe and healthy.

“Guys, she’s awake.”

Familiar faces entered her vision, filled with worry and relief.

Lilith, naturally, was the first to go, scoffing, “You’re such an idiot, why didn’t you tell us you had a gaping wound.” But the soft kiss to her forehead betrayed the truth. I could have lost you.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, trying to ignore the throb in her side.

“Like hell you are,” Mary retorted, leaning over to pull her into a hug.

“Language,” she chided weakly, grabbing the hand resting by her side.

Tears sprung to her eyes when she met Ava’s bloodshot ones, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “In this life, darling.”

Ava sniffled with a watery smile, and Bea pretended to ignore Lilith’s fake gag and the way Camila vibrated at the promise.

Mother Superion lingered protectively in the doorway. Her sisters settled around her, and she knew. She was safe, surrounded by family.

She could rest.

#a real ending for once!!#mmm sleepy time #sister beatrice #ava silva #avatrice #warrior nun #lilith villaumbrosia #shotgun mary #mother superion #sister camila #boink scribbles #hcs

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nvuy · 4 months

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doctor, doctor — veritas ratio

summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.

notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.

my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.

warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.

“Hi, Doctor.”

Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.

“Yes. Good evening to you.”

Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.

You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”

You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.

Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.

“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.

Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”

You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”

You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.

“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.

“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”

Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.

“I want to play chess.”

“I’m busy.”

You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You only stared at him expectantly.

“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.

Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”

You took another sip of your drink.

Then, you blinked. “Yep.”

Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.

You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.

Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”

You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”

The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.

*ೃ༄

“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”

As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.

Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”

You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.

No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.

“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.

“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”

“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.

When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.

Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”

“Winning.”

“You are not winning.”

“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”

Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”

Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.

He lost.

Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”

“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”

“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”

“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”

“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”

“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”

“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”

The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.

The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.

You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.

Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You looked offended when he pulled back.

You whined. “What was that?”

“Your reward,” he argued.

“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.

It was working.

You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”

“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”

“Fine.”

This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.

Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.

When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.

Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.

“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.

To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.

Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.

“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”

The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.

Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”

His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”

“You are horrible.”

Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.

He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”

The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.

His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.

It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.

Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.

Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.

“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”

Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.

He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.

He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”

“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.

“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.

The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.

He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.

Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.

Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.

His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.

His heart stopped.

“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”

Too late.

Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.

The damage had already been done, however.

Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozen, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.

Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”

Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her hair.

Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

You waved. “Hey, queen.”

Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.

You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.

“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”

He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.

“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”

“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”

“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”

Veritas rolled his eyes.

Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.

It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.

You found it sort of hot.

Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”

His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”

"Aww."

"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."

Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”

When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#( aka ‘is anybody gonna match my freak?’ the fic. )

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