#veritas ratio fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlaswav · 5 months ago

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CATACLYSMIC ☾

INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.

Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.

With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence.

He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.

Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.

Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.

God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.

“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face.

Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.

His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’.

If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough.

“Have you found it?”

You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster.

You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.

“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”

“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”

Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself.

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.

How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write.

Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)

He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project.

The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project.

The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts.

“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”

You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.

Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect.

Statuesque.

His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul.

“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning.

You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.

“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s not good, either.”

You scowl at him.

“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand.

You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.

“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”

You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had.

You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself.

Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings.

His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him.

You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow.

You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman?

“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils.

“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance.

You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist.

Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light.

“It’s deplorable.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair.

“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”

You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh?

“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name.

Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either.

You were so wrong.

More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero.

He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.

Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious.

“Ratio.”

He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”

“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”

“Are you going to stop looking down at me?”

The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?

“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”

You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”

You glare at him. Your chest stings.

He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”

“Why?”

“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”

Your eyes widen.

“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”

You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”

“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”

You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction.

“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”

“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”

His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer.

The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it.

He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant.

You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”

“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”

“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”

“Jackass.”

“Change it.”

You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks.

“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching.

“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”

“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”

“Then learn.”

“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”

“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”

“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”

“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”

“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”

He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line.

“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”

You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research.

Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands.

“I’m done.”

“Show me.”

You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully.

Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines.

But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.

He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light.

“It’s good.”

You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”

“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”

“Huh?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What potential?”

He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy.

You happened to be the one exception.

“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”

“You think I have potential?”

“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”

He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile.

Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas.

—

The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors.

He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such.

But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom.

You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns.

It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions.

You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was.

He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once.

He hated it.

It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him.

Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you.

“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it.

“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”

You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back.

With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again.

But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble.

The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation.

You wanted to slap him.

Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?

You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class.

You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you.

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Tutor me please.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”

“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”

He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”

He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”

You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”

He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”

He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.

But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you.

It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself.

When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door.

You were a picture to behold.

Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head.

You were messing with him again.

Two could play that game.

“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”

“What, like alcohol?” you huffed.

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.

He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be.

His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation.

It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?

“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”

“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed.

“You’re too smart.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“Smart ass,”

“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”

You groaned. “Where?”

He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief.

“You understand?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”

“I won’t. Now get out.”

“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge.

Remarkably, he pulled out two beers.

“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”

A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Wipe it off then.”

A frown. His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall.

“Drink and leave.”

“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness.

“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand.

“I do.”

“Are you lonely or something?”

“No, people are irritating.” Like you.

“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.

“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”

“If you say so.”

Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass.

One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath.

“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.

“What was that?”

“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so. He squints at the ground.

He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.

“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”

“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you hate me?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then why are you like this?”

Your eyebrows raise.

“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”

“...Sorry?”

“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”

You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south.

“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes.

“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.

“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”

“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”

“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”

“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought.

“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else.

As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall.

You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze.

You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?

“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.

“You tell me.”

Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices.

He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast.

“You’re a siren.”

“Am I?”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”

“I hate you.”

“Really?”

“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”

“Are you a masochist?”

“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”

“How? Why?”

“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”

“Are you normally this analytical of people?”

“No, which supports my point.”

“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”

“No. I hate you for it.”

“Let me go then.”

He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door.

“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it.

“Polar opposites.”

“I mean who am I to you?”

He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space.

“Veritas?”

“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.”

You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this.

He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”

“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”

“Night.”

Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill.

written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024

633 notes · View notes

n0tamused · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! If requests are open, I would love yo request something

Would you be willing to write about Ratio comforting his s/o who's mental health is not the greatest (by which I mean awful)

Head canons, a little drabble, whatever you're most comfortable with

- 🦐

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN reader, angst, turns to fluff, overworked and stressed reader, depression. Hope you enjoy this shrimp anon!<3

Words: 2275

Rises of the moon

‘I will not come in today, I’m sorry. I am still not well enough for work, but hopefully tomorrow I will be.’

You stared at the message yet to be sent, the phone feeling like a brick instead with the weight of it pulling you down into the ground and into the abyss. Talking was exhausting, yet sending the message seemed like an even more arduous task to complete. Your reputation waited, and you’d throw it away simply because you couldn’t type out a sentence good enough to send, a sentence that could save you some questioning and some dignity?

Like a trap door your mind opened beneath you, your worst critic and the source of the distress. You felt like you were falling endlessly and hitting rock bottom all at once, making days and hours converge together until nothing but dust blinded you alongside your tears.

‘I will not come in today. I am still not well enough for work, hopefully tomorrow I will be.’

The letters stared back at you.

‘Good morning, I will not be coming in this morning either, my health is not yet improved for the work environment. With kind regards- (Y/n)(L/n)’

Send, just send it, send.

Before you can look at the message once more your hand grips the phone hard enough to press into the button at the side, making the screen go dark and after that you don't try to turn it on. Instead, you curled up on your side, your bed feeling like spare traces of comfort you could still grasp on with your phone getting lost amidst the blankets and pillows you hoarded up around you. Sleep had evaded you this night as well, overtaken by more important tasks of weeping over imperfect papers and reports. It’s been three days, today is the fourth. How much longer will they take that sorry excuse before they bring your integrity into question? You didn’t want to know.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow will be better (I’ll pretend).

After what felt like hours of laying in your bed, hoping to outlive the rumbling of your stomach, you finally dragged yourself out and roamed your home for some more, glancing at the trash can full of crumpled papers and the broken glass cup you accidentally pushed off the table the night before. Opening your fridge you could only relish in the cold breeze that licked up your neck and face, but the food held within looked no more appetizing than the night before. You stood there for a while longer, waiting if suddenly, by some chance, you may get a craving for a slice of cheese or perhaps a pepper instead.

Around half an hour later your ears were grated by the sudden ring of the bell, which snapped you out of whatever damp thought you had at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone - matter of fact, you told your close ones you needed space and time to heal from the ‘fever’ you told them about.

Yet when your heavy feet delivered you to the door, you couldn’t say you were surprised by who was behind them. Greeted by the sight of damp purple hair and coral eyes, heavy with intent to get dry, you could only clear your throat before Veritas spoke up for you.

“I got your messages this morning. Quite late to send such notices for work, wouldn’t you say?”

“..What?” you blinked owlishly at him, completely lost for words.

“Hm, what? You sent me messages you were feeling unwell, multiple of the same as well.. I thought it would do us both well to check in on you” Veritas stood looking down at you, letting all the cool air in as you remained glued to the door like a statue, heavy lidded eyes and ears struggling to process what he had said. You were sending the messages to your boss - but in your anguished stupor you have sent them all to him instead. The malicious feeling came back underneath your ribs and stabbed right up, and you could see Veritas’ eyes widen upon seeing your face morph into a frown-pout.

“Here, let me in, will you? You don’t want to get even more sick, or get me sick as well?” he tried to urge as gently as he could, walking in when you stepped aside and putting down a grocery bag for just enough that it took him to take off his shoes. His umbrella was put in the corner, sopping wet and letting you know it was still raining. You stood stiff in the hall, shoulders wanting to push up to your cheeks while your hands crossed at the wrists down in front of you. You sighed quietly, watching him as he straightened up, looking over at you.

With a step he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching up already as he said “Come here..” and his palm pushed gently against your forehead. His touch was warm, and from how close he stood you could smell the damp smell of rain and autumn leaves. It was refreshing.

It was a quiet moment as he assessed you in the entry hallway. “Doesn’t appear you have a heightened temperature at all, but we’ll confirm that in a bit with a thermometer, just to be sure. Hmm.. you do look pale though. Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Not yet, I was just about to make something” You smoothly lied, not wishing to bring more shame by allowing him to look sad or worried or angry at you if you told the truth.

“Good. I’ll make you something. Now, don’t just stand in the hallway, come inside. You act more of a guest in your home than I do..” he motioned with his hand while taking a step to the side to let you through, urging you to come by, and when you did his hand found its spot at your lower back as if to guide you in. He hummed something softly in his throat, no certain melody but it was a small sign of his focus, and perhaps the liberty he found in your home. “Would you like to sit down here, or be with me in the kitchen?” he asked and you can’t help but gawk a little with the way he addressed you so gently, warmly, all while you felt slimy and ready to crawl out of your skin.

“With you, I’d like to be with you in the kitchen”

He nodded, his eyes mellowing further as he motioned for you to come with him, his grocery bag rustling as he lifted it up to set it on the counter. You slipped into a high chair at the kitchen island, watching as he pulled out a whole chicken, celery, onions and carrots. In his orderly fashion he sorted them out in a line before him, and by now he was quite familiar with the placements of things within your home and had no trouble finding the plates, the cutting boards and the rest of the ingredients. He washed his hands before handling the ingredients directly.

“Can I do something to help?” you muttered after the lump in your throat felt so huge, nearly about to pop out of your mouth. Sitting idle did more harm than good, it showed in your shoulders and eyes. Veritas looked your way and shook his head, coming a bit closer until he could lean down and plant his lips to your forehead warmly, letting his lips linger a moment longer.

“You can sit there and relax, I got this” he told you in a softened tone, going back to his cutting board.

Veritas was no fool, he never was, and especially not with you. He knew this was no fever, even if he did end up making you stay still as he handed you the thermometer to check again after he let the chicken cook in a pot along with the vegetables and herbs, standing next to you until that fateful beep sounded over the simmering and bubbling water. No fever.

While the chicken was cooking, making the smell waft in the air in delicious waves, Veritas opened you up to conservation, small talk mostly until you relaxed further, distracted by the endless flow of words. He told you about what happened in the time of your absence, and what he has been up to with the Guild and what shenanigans his student did too. The last topic got a giggle out of you, and Veritas seemed to glow at the sound. He smiled too, along with you.

Hunger seemed more natural and welcome now as a bit more life returned to your joints and you rose from your seat to pace around the kitchen, still tired but more.. alive, just that - alive. Alive and comfortable. You would occasionally glance into the pot, narrowly missing the gust of steam that jumped up from the pot.

“Should be done about now.. let me see... hmm” Veritas nudged against you over the stove, wearing kitchen mittens and removing the pot off the heat, and you promptly turned it off and watched what he did.

Veritas had made this recipe once before, when you really did have a fever. ‘Healing chicken vegetable soup’ - he said it was called, a recipe he seemed to recall from younger years of his childhood. You wanted to learn to make it and try to make it, but it would seem he never got sick or that he let you do it. This dish was his in truth.

What came of his meticulous work was a delicious plate of soup with cut chicken meat, not a bone in sight. It was soft on the throat, although you ended up adding a bit more seasoning for your own tongue while Veritas dined on the soup as it was. He was slow with it, bent on observing you eat.

“I assume that it is to your liking?”

You nodded, mouth full to respond.

“Good. I am glad of it. Sometimes you have to take the back seat to get the joy of life, no matter how long you remain in that station it will be well worth it once you get back into the driver’s seat” He told you, hoping to get to you without addressing the matter directly, knowing it may result in more harm than good and your mood was just beginning to look up.

“Yeah… I know, Veritas. Yet having spent so much time at the head of it all, taking the back seat feels like a punishment” you managed to say after nearly scalding your throat with how eagerly you swallowed your bite, wanting to converse with him.

“It is not a punishment, especially not when you know you need such a change in perspective. You’re doing yourself a misdeed by rooting yourself to the place that drained you in the first place”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Pft- now, don’t be so brazen with me after letting me see you so wilted” he bit back quickly, but he held no actual malice, only wasn’t prepared for your rebuttal. He cleared his throat and took a sip of the tea he prepared for you both. Veritas was human too, and you knew of his own trials and errors more than anyone else - of course he felt the same, but you didn’t need to force him to admit it.

You smiled at his jab, scooping up more soup.

“Wilted? I have to thank you for the nourishment then, I am already feeling more.. revitalized” you told him and your look softened his own when you looked up at him. Color seeps back into your cheeks, and you don't wobble in your step or stumble. Your bones felt like bones again, not air.

“I will take your thanks properly once you really feel better.. until then, I’d prefer if you ate well and actually took some of the advice I gave you.. I may have not said it but your message did worry me greatly..”

The words made you slow down in your motions and you looked at him in silent apology now, but he once again beat you to speaking. “Imagine - I had to cancel my classes. What will my students think now?”

“They must be thinking it’s the end of the world”

“Hah” His pearly whites show as he grins at your words and you nearly imitate him, but you smile regardless with what energy you got back. He is leaning back in his seat, arms crossed in an almost boyishly fashion, relaxed. “Perhaps, but I can easily make up for a missed class. Let them think what they will.. May this even get their mind spinning a little bit more if my absence is so heatedly understood”.

By the time you were done sharing jabs and words, you had eaten more than you expected. The warmth of the tea and soup brings sleep to pull at your eyelids, beckoning you to close them. Veritas noticed you nearly nodding off at the table and was quick enough to come up to your side, hand on the opposite shoulder from where he stood.

“It is time you go get to bed”

Had you had any more strength, you would have said you needed to get to working on those papers, but the memory of the same was lost in the night before, and all you could think of how comfortable the pillow will be when your heads falls onto it, and how warm Veritas’ arms will be when he lays down next to you.

A/n: the recipe is actually a greek recipe ehehhehee, I wanted a little easter egg

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verinarin · 11 months ago

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 | 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬’ 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 (๑>◡<๑)

Perplexing, is a word he would use to describe her.

Completely and utterly perplexing, her every action bemuses him. It is so chaotic yet calculated that it would make one question the motive of such an act. To illustrate this, he draws an example from her exploits yesterday.

The sun graces its warmth towards the halls of the Intelligentsia Guild as he walks across the open corridor, structured with vines that wrap around its doric pillars. It’s common to meet a fellow scholar during the walk, then he sees her basking gracefully underneath the soft light that the sun provides.

Her delicate features complemented beautifully as she stared at something, something that he was eager to discover. Slowly he walks towards her, pondering on the endless possibilities that he could encounter. What renders one so much so that it left one’s lips slightly parted, a sign of astonishment.

He draws closer only to see that the object of your astonishment is nothing.

Literally nothing, the object that paints her face look so alluringly bewildered, is literally nonexistent.

“May I ask what has garnered your interest so much that your lips parts themselves?,” he asked her from behind, keeping a close yet respectful distance. She turns her face around, a zephyr gently caresses her hair as she looks at him with the same expression she had.

“Hmm, I was just admiring the lighting,” she stated like it was a simple concept to grasp. But not to him, not in the slightest.

“Pardon ?,” he pressed further to the stranger, ignoring his crass behavior.

“I was just lost in the scenery, is there anything wrong with that ?,” she asked with her fingertip pressed against her lips, inadvertently showcasing how soft and plump it is.

“A quite wasteful use of time,” he argued, she simply replied with a soft laugh as she extended her hand and introduced herself. Her name suits her, he thought to himself at the time.

He shook her hand as he introduced himself, “Veritas Ratio,” she restated his name, somehow the way his name leaves from her lips sounds like an attempt to seduce him. He knows it wasn’t, but he can’t help but to catch it that way.

“I read about you a week ago. Wow, a famously well-decorated scholar has found interest in my usage of time, how peculiar,” she teased, from then on she had unintentionally bewitched his heart.

How vexing.

#☆彡veririnwrites #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio fluff

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sleepynoons · 5 months ago

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dr. ratio x gn!reader, sfw, not beta read

cw: explicit language

notes: college!au ratio is scrumptious + i love trying new characterizations of such a well-written character. some emotional angst regarding insecurities + never feeling good enough. platonic btw, though feelings spark at the end. also, requests are now open – please read all of my acc + request rules, which are linked in my nav. finally, repeat after me: YOUR HOBBIES DON'T HAVE TO BE YOUR JOBS.

YOU HAVE got to be shitting me.

you gawk as you stare at the student across from you. piercing eyes, gold laurel accessory adorning indigo hair, apron crisp and clean – why the hell is the veritas ratio here?

you’re a simple student. day and night, you’re studying to pass your classes and working a part-time shift as a barista at a local café to scrape in a little bit of extra cash. the difference between you and ratio is more than the distance between heaven and earth. the only time you ever interacted with your college’s “legendary genius” was at a study review session for one of your classes that he happened to be a teaching assistant for.

the first ten minutes of the session were wasted because ratio was criticizing the hell out of another student. to be fair, the latter was acting like an asshole. you had overheard some of the snarky comments they made about ratio as you all were waiting outside the classroom. but ratio was equally, if not more, biting and ruthless as he made comeback after comeback after comeback. you didn’t have a good opinion of him either. and so, you snuck out of the review session and never attended one led by ratio again.

you try to shift your expression into a more amicable one as you sit down next to him. out of all the places to meet him again, you would have never predicted it to be at your favorite pottery studio.

it’s fine, you think, it’s not like he knows who i am.

you’re not good at pottery – mediocre at it, at best. but the feeling of the wet clay against your hands, how pliable and cool and malleable it is, is soothing. even the sheer act of throwing a ball of it onto the wheel is stress-relieving. you frequent this studio once every few weeks or so, and it’s become something of a third home to you, a place that you can run away to really at any time.

ratio has accolades in the arts as well, especially renowned for his sculptures, so pottery doesn’t seem too farfetched. yet you’ve never seen him here before.

you’re deep in thought, until a steady voice interrupts with a call of your name.

you perk up, looking around. another call of your name. there’s no one else in the vicinity besides you and ratio.

you squeak in surprise. “oh! yes, um, hi, ratio! what’s up?”

ratio’s response shocks you. he asks, “i am having trouble with pulling the sides of my bowl up. would you mind showing me how to do it?”

what. ratio needs help – and your help at that? you quickly pull yourself together, though, because you’d rather not get berated by him.

“y-yeah, sure,” you acquiesce. “what are you trying to make?”

for the next hour or so, you guide ratio through the very few basics of pottery that you’ve become acquainted with. of course, ratio catches on very speedily, but contrary to your initial impression of him, he listens with rapt attentiveness and asks questions only when necessary. the final result is a round bowl with scalloped edges.

during your next visit to the studio, which is a week later, you run into ratio at the entrance. you both nod politely in recognition, remaining in silence as the studio manager helps the two of you set up. this time, ratio does not reach out to you. you notice that ratio creates another of the bowl he made (and you helped with) last week.

you don’t visit the studio again until a month later. midterms season plus additional shifts at the café because a coworker had quit without a two-week notice took up all of your time. yet, here ratio was again, already throwing as you settle at your station.

it’s weird, really. when and why did ratio pick up pottery? no one else on campus seemed to know – indicative by the lack of gossip regarding the genius –, and after a brief exchange with the studio staff that you’ve become familiar with, they thought he was simply a new frequenter.

you’re suddenly feeling courageous. maybe it’s because of the accumulated stress from the past month or the lack of caffeine, but regardless, you’re feeling bold enough to initiate conversation with ratio.

so you start easy, to seem casual. “hi, ratio,” you chirp, even adding in a small wave to appear extra friendly.

he glances up and nods before concentrating back on his work. you take that as your cue to get started as well.

after half an hour, from the corner of your eye, you see ratio pause his wheel and stretch, judging and evaluating the progress he’s made. you notice that he’s making something new, a wide plate with a shallow rim.

“nice work,” you offer.

“thank you,” he states.

you sigh. now, you’re just getting irritated. going about this in a roundabout way is clearly not working.

you set down your tools and stare right at ratio. “i’m curious,” you ask, “why pottery? i’ve never seen you here.”

“you’re not here often either.”

you groan internally. of course he’s focused on the trees instead of the forest. “i come often enough to know the other regulars, and you were definitely not one of them up until a month ago.”

ratio breaks away from his work and looks back at you. even though you’ve seen him in person a few times now, his eyes always manage to glimmer so beautifully that they steal your breath away. “is one not allowed to pick up a new hobby? or are your conceptions of a so-called ‘genius’ limited to that of a naturally gifted workaholic?”

you have to think for a moment before responding. ratio seems rather uncomfortable with the term “genius.”

you muse, “maybe. you’re the closest thing to being a genius that i know, and you seem to be winning awards all the time. that can’t be possible if you’re not working hard all the time. but… it’s good to know that pottery’s just a fun activity for you.”

he asks, “is it for you?”

“yeah, i think it is.” you smile, though it’s more for yourself. “look, i’m not particularly gifted at anything, not even at pottery. but that’s fine because you don’t have to turn your hobbies into work.”

“i don’t agree with you.” you tilt your head in confusion, slightly wary because you don’t want to debate or argue. ratio continues, “the notion of separating work from hobbies is clear, but claiming that you are not particularly gifted is unnecessary self-deprivation, no? i’ve seen your work from class, and it’s very obvious you have certain strengths.”

you roll your eyes and scoff. “that doesn’t mean i’m talented at anything. everyone has strengths, that’s true, but it’s not like i’m doing anything impressive enough to get on the front page of our university newspaper.”

ratio states your name, but it sounds more like a stern rebuke. “i don’t take pride in being called a genius.”

“why? because you didn’t get nominated last year?”

he corrects, “for the past few years.”

the genius society, the most prestigious nonprofit in the world, offers a scholarship program that selects and nurtures the brightest college students globally. despite all of the research and leadership ratio has contributed, he has never once been accepted, let alone waitlisted, for the program.

you think you have a better idea of the kind of person ratio is. maybe he’s more like the sun to your earth, more tender-hearted and relatable than you had assumed.

“make sure the clay is evenly distributed in the center of the plate,” you note. you know he doesn’t need empty words of sympathy or comfort.

“i will.”

the two of you work until you’re both done; he finishes his plate and you a medium-sized soup bowl because you had accidentally shattered the only one you had.

before you leave, though, ratio calls out to you. (you notice you like the way he says your name.)

he says, “please, call me veritas.”

you chuckle and nod. (he notices he likes the sound of your laugh.)

“i’ll see you soon, veritas.”

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generalsdiary · 10 months ago

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09:07 am

gn!reader x Dr. Ratio

warnings: none

word count: 600~

a/n: pure brainrot, not beta read, jamming to sparkle’s theme

description: you do his eyeliner, drabble (fluff)

„hold still“ you dictate under your breath, your hand holding his chin in place.

he sighs. „I am very still-“ „yapping means you are not being still, I'll mess up the line, Veritas“ causing a glare from him. your other hand was resting on his cheek and attempting to make a perfect red line on his eyelid.

it looked... good enough when you were done. you moved your hand away, placing the brush on the nightstand and relaxing your posture. „there“

Veritas brings a small mirror to check your work, „hmm... I've done better. of course I do it every day“ his eyes leave the mirror and catch you glaring at him, „it was a bonding moment, Doctor Ratio“ your tone of voice revealing sarcasm and a hint of annoyment.

„that doesn't clear you away from criticism, especially if you wish to improve.“ his hands pull you back onto his lap, his eyes, the color of an eternal sunset, turning soft, „which would be good for you, you could then do it more often.“ Veritas smiles showing the gentle reasoning to his somewhat harsh sounding words. his swift change in behavior catches you slightly off guard.

„so hot and cold“ responding in a teasing tone.

„ah, I'd say I'm more hot than cold right now, aren't I,-“ his hand cups your chin, „my dear?“

a smile is apparent on your face, as is the eye roll, „and cocky it seems“ making him scoff at your words and look away. „don't worry Veritas, that is one of the reasons I... tolerate you“ you communicate those words in the form of a kiss on his cheek. Veritas' expression relaxes, his eyes closing.

„who's the hot and cold one now?“ his voice but a mere whisper. „unlike yourself, that isn't one of the reasons I like you.“ he waits for a response, patiently scanning your face to see if you'll try to guess. „then what is?“ guessing game isn't worth it at this moment, Veritas very obviously has a specific reason in mind and you feel excited to hear it.

„your kindness. and tolerance, towards... idiots“ to him, those words are completely true, despite his aloof character and at first glance rude behavior he cares a lot. he made sacrifices that benefit… well the whole universe; solving an energy crisis, creating serums, fixing centuries-old issues, and to him, most importantly, he continuously tries to make knowledge available to all people. of course, Ratio would appreciate those same qualities in his partner, not seeking a ‘genius’ necessarily, but rather just a humanitarian, sensible person.

Veritas' words don't fail to make you laugh and ruffle his silky soft violet hair, „and you! are my favorite~“ you exclaim proudly, with a shit-eating grin on your face, knowing he will react to the provocation.

„oh?“ he smirks as well, his hands moving from your sides to your back, he lays back and pushes you with him, making you gasp sharply. „what was it- I didn't catch that, what am I?“ he teases, his voice playful.

„an id-“ Veritas doesn't let you finish your thought, his lips crashing against yours, and when you start enjoying the kiss and the sweet taste of his lips - he pulls away, keeping it painfully short.

„hm... you were saying?“ his hand goes to the back of your head, rubbing your nape.

you frown, how dare he limit the kisses, „an idio-“ once again Veritas doesn’t let you finish the thought, pulling your lips onto his again. you can't help but chuckle and softly mumble between your lips meeting, „my favorite~“, „you mean the only one“, a laugh bubbles up your throat, even in a joke he wants it to be factually correct… or is it a hint of jealousy? doubtful, he isn’t a jealous man to your knowledge. food for thought perhaps.

„yes, the only one.“

#hsr #honkai star rail #star rail #dr ratio #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio fluff #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio x reader #doctor ratio fluff

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moineauz · 10 months ago

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Dr. Ratio despises garbage TV. However, when it comes to you, he can make exceptions.

"Oh! A new season's coming!"

Veritas sighs, placing the dish in the sink as he follows you from the corner of his eye. Night had well fallen over your shared home and the remaining aroma of dinner lingered in the air.

"And I thought you detested the lead character?" he mused askance.

"Well- I can put that aside," you concluded, "besides, I need to know if they will be together."

Veritas observes you gently: the occasional strand of hair in your eyes while your wool sweater scrunches with each movement. You raise the remote to the TV, clicking the TV show on like you had every Friday night the two of you spent together.

"( Name )."

"Yes dear?" you answered plainly, your eyes glued to the TV as the opening scene began.

Veritas stealthily ambles behind you while your mind focuses on the show. Gradually, Veritas lowers his head, kissing your neck tenderly.

You turn your head, a wide bright grin plastered on your face, "What is it Veritas?"

"You do know I hate garbage TV right?"

"Oh of course I do."

Veritas rolls his eyes comedically and you giggle lightly, "But you still love me regardless, right dear?"

Veritas then presses a kiss on your lips- effectively shutting you up before muttering gently, "Yes, I undoubtedly do."

masterlist

double post??? i've had this thought that veritas will absolutely watch the most trash tv for you only. he'd be the kind of person to watch either highly acclaimed tv shows or documentaries. also i have not written fluff in awhile...

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio #veritas x reader #hsr veritas #hoyoverse #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio fluff

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mythophosfox · 11 months ago

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Dr.Ratio x Student!Reader

Word Count͟͟͞͞➳❥ 6.6k (One-Shot)

Reader is gender neutral !afab // Not proofread

A/N͟͟͞͞➳❥English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar errors. I've never properly written NSFW before as I'm violently Ace. I'm also more used to writing longer stories so I apologize if anything feels rushed. I've tried my best. This is purely self-indulgent

Cw ➳❥ age gap (reader is 25, Ratio is 30), porn with plot, dubcon?, P in V, masturbation, mutual pinning (they’re in denial), slight OOC, Cunnilingus, licking, Dr.ratio being mean, Ratio being referred as Veritas(towards the end), mentions of private parts, softcore porn, soft dom, kinda slow burn?,

Summary ➳❥ When you arrived at the academy, you immediately caught the eye of Dr.Ratio. The genius felt both amazed and irritated by your methods.

Dr. Ratio was thought to be free of carnal emotions. The man pried himself on being free of idiocy, free of impulsive thoughts and actions. Everything he does is meticulously planned. From the way he teaches to the way, he bathes in the evening. He was known to be one of the strictest and hardest teachers in the guild, his class barely making the 10% pass mark. Not only did you need to figure it out yourself, but you had to prove you wanted to learn. His reputation was kept up carefully and preceded him. Even though he wasn’t liked by the majority of students in the academy, everyone knew better than to disrespect him. He’s earned his attitude, to everyone’s misfortune.

Every day was the same for Dr.Ratio. The same idiotic student asking the same idiotic questions, the disappointment he felt towards his coworkers, and the stability of his reputation keeping its ground. Only when you arrived, that his foundation start to crack. You weren’t special at first, simply a new arrival to the academy. Your attitude was over-optimistic and light-hearted. He hated the way you were carefree about your teachings. It didn’t take long for him to indirectly target his attitude towards you. For what you had in personality, your intellect deceived it. Every time he came at you with an impossible equation or theory, you would calmly come out with multiple answers, no matter if they were wrong or not. He’d berate you for your ‘’stupidity’’ as he said it. You stayed unfazed, simply stating:

-’’ You can’t succeed without failing, that is the process of learning.’’

He was both annoyed and somewhat impressed by your calm, carefree answer to his berating. He scoffed before leaving you alone for that day. The interaction gave you some attention from classmates who were more afraid of him. Over the next few months, you became more popular with the students in his class, even tutoring some of them. You had a more gentle approach than Ratio when explaining material to your fellow students.

Ratio heard about your little tutoring work and decided to observe from afar. He stood away from the table you and the student you’d be helping that way were seated. His plaster mask was on his complexion to hide his expression, helping him concentrate on the work you were doing. He listened as you talked calmly to the student who was having a hard time. He was expecting you to just give the answer away, like any other idiot would to make another idiot shut up, but you didn’t. As the student looked distressed from the assignment, you stayed optimistic asking questions to direct the student in the right direction without giving them the right answer. You listened to the student as they spewed an egregious amount of terrible theories. You never lost your cool, explaining the equation as much as you needed to. When the students apologized for being stupid, you shushed them.

-’’ If you were stupid, you wouldn’t give me answers in the first place. They may be wrong, but it proves you’re thinking. You’ll figure it out soon or later.’’ Your voice was soft, caring and hushed down. A bold contrast to Dr. Ratios's class.

Ratio witnesses the interaction with a seemingly blank face. He didn’t understand how you were able to deal with so much idiocy. You had potential, potential wasted on helping idiots. Nonetheless, a part of him was impressed by your patience and stable emotional state. He didn’t necessarily agree with your methods, thinking you were too soft, but credit is due where it’s due. He left the premises with a wandering thought.

The next class with him arrived and you sat in your usual spot. It took a while for everyone else to arrive. Once everyone was seated, you all waited patiently for Dr.Ratio to arrive. To everyone's detriment, your teacher arrived with an enormous pile of papers. He slammed the stack on his desk making a loud slamming noise before he turned towards the blackboard to write today’s plans. Everyone groaned as the words ‘’surprise test’’ appeared on the board. Some students started to freak out while others just sighed in exhaustion. Ratio wasn’t going to make it easy for you huh? He took the plaster mask off of his face and placed it on his desk before facing the class. He looked unimpressed by everyone’s reactions.

-’’ Today, we’re going to see if you have been listening so far this semester.’’ He beamed loud enough for the whole classroom to hear. ‘’ You have an hour, no more no less, to answer these questions.’’

The whole class reluctantly mutters a ‘’yes, sir’’ as Ratio starts handing out the papers to each student. You reached out to your hand to take the papers. When it was your turn you carefully grabbed the papers but it resisted your pull. Ratio wasn’t letting go of it until you looked up at his eyes. He was staring you down mischievously, piercing your gaze with his gold, crimson eyes. The fainted grin on the corner of his lips. You felt your heart skip a beat as you helplessly stared at his face. He let go of the paper when your gaze reached his.

-’’ I expect better from you, y/n.’’ He states coldly, before continuing his route.

You were left speechless and flustered. You had to force your heart from skipping too many beats. You always thought your teacher was good-looking. You thought his attitude would be enough to throw you off, but your feelings were speaking otherwise. When the test started, you tried your best to concentrate, but the image of his eyes gazing into yours was making your brain overheat. Somehow you manage to write down mostly acceptable answers. You didn’t know how you kept your cool through it all. Not only was the test unprepared, but it was challenging. You could hear the discouraged sighs of your classmates. An hour passed and Ratio hollered the students to put their pens down. As he collected the paper, the tension in the classroom escalated. The students weren’t happy and it showed. When it was your turn, Ratio took your copy out of your hand. He gave it a quick look, frowning but scoffing and placing it on the pile. Well, that’s encouraging.

When every copy was collected, Dr.Ratio announced for the class to be dismissed, to which every student ecstatically ran off. You sighed in relief, ready to walk home and relax. As you pack your bags, a voice disturbs your thoughts.

-’’ y/n, stay here, I want to have a word with you.’’ Ratio exclaimed loudly.

Some of your classmates gave you apologetic looks, feeling bad for you. You gave Dr.Ratio a look, annoyed at the sudden order. You reluctantly sat back down on your chair. By the time everyone left, you were all alone with him. He took his sweet doing whatever he needed to do. You decided to bring out a book from your bag, reading meticulously. After a while, you looked up from your book to find Dr.Ratio grading the papers in front of you. Was he seriously going to make you wait here until he finished grading the entire stack? You sighed, aggravated. You look back down on your book, reading for what felt like hours. Suddenly, a slam in front of you breaks your concentration. You put your book down, only to see a graded paper in front of you. It’s a failed mark. You thought it was your copy until you read the name.

-’’ That’s not my name.’’ You stated calmly, staring up at the man towering over you. Your heart jumped again, but you kept composure.

-’’ Good to know you can read.’’ He says with a scoff on his face. ‘’ Your tutoring student hasn’t learned it seems.’’

You widen your eyes slightly, it was indeed a classmate you tutored the other day. You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at Ratio. How did he-

-’’ I saw you trying to tutor him, it was excruciating to watch.’’

Oh, that’s how. You winced at his with an air of confusion. Then it clicked in your mind. The sudden test happened the day after your tutoring session. Did he seriously prepare an entire test because he felt disdain at your attempt to help your classmates?

-’’ Did you create this test to prove me wrong?’’ You mutter, slightly aggravated.

He looks at you for a while, his eyes piercing deep into yours. You couldn’t help but think how pretty he was even with his dignified attitude.

-’’ How perceptive of you.’’ He grinned, amused by your reaction. ‘’ I wanted to prove to you how unproductive your methods are.’’

Your eyes widen, taken off guard by his bold confession. You couldn’t keep a snarl off your face. He has all the right to be unreasonable with you, but not with people who struggle to understand his teachings. So what if you were softer than him? So what if you had a more empathic approach to teaching than he did? You were more emotionally driven than him, but what is the issue with that? It made you feel some anger at the thought. If it wasn’t for the way he made your heart skip beats, you’d have the courage to tell him off then and there. Unfortunately for you, you folded way too easily to his expression on you. He observed your expression closely, a smirk appearing as he noticed your change in composure.

-’’ That is all, you are free to go now.’’ He says waving you off.

You were left speechless, was he serious? This righteous, prideful asshole. You backed your bag without a word. You were fuming at this point. Hurt and baffled. You stormed towards the door, Ratio watching you leave. You opened the door with force before turning around to face him. ‘’ Just because you’re smart and handsome, doesn’t mean you have the right to bash people on the ground!’’ You exclaimed with a poisonous tone before leaving the room, letting the door slam shut behind you.

Your sudden outburst amused Ratio, before realizing what you’ve said. A look of surprise flashes on his face.

…Handsome?

You arrive at your apartment, throwing your bag on the floor, ready for this day to end. You shower, make dinner and watch the news. Blissfully unaware of what you’ve done. It’s only when you read your book in bed, the clock ticking slowly that you suddenly realize. Oh god, Oh no, You’ve just called your teacher, the man you unfortunately kinda have the hots for. You press your hands on your cheek, red from the sudden embarrassment. How were you going to face him tomorrow now….

...

The next day, you dreaded his class the entire time. You couldn’t concentrate on your other classes with the sheer anxiety you felt. Throughout the day you kept trying to rationalize yourself. Maybe he didn’t hear you. Maybe he did but simply ignored it. Maybe he’d just ignore you for the end of time now, which was honestly the better option for both of you. You couldn’t date him even if you wanted to. He was your teacher after all. Yes, the age gap wasn’t outrageous, but nonetheless. You both knew better than to succumb to these feelings, right…?

It’s finally time for your class with Dr.Ratio and you couldn’t be more dreadful about it. You take a deep breath, composing yourself to ask like everything is fine. You enter the classroom, happy to see you’re not the only one who has arrived. You sit in your regular spot, taking out your notes. The class fills slowly. Hours seem to pass as you anxiously await Ratio to enter and start today’s lesson. You still felt insulted by his game yesterday, the feelings mixing, confusing you further. You couldn’t wait to see him, as much as you dreaded his presence. Your thoughts wander, visualize his eyes, his hair and his chest. Wait, What? You shook your head, brushing the thought off. No, you could let yourself have a crush on him. At this moment, Ratio enters the room, bringing the class to a hush. He looks at the students in front of him, with an air of disdain. His gaze suddenly jolts towards you. Your heart jumps again, unable to tell the emotions behind his eyes. He sighs coldly, turning towards the blackboard to write down today’s subject. -‘’ Today’s lesson is about the basics of combinatory. Do not disappoint me.’’ He states. You couldn’t help but feel as if that warning was targeted at you.

The class ended, and you’re putting away your notes and pencils. You have tutoring planned for after class. Considering the subject you were freshly taught, it wouldn’t be a surprise if multiple showed up. You hurried your pace, rushing towards the door. Before you were able to leave, you felt a strong hand take hold of your wrist. The grip itself was firm, but not too harsh. You looked back in surprise to see Dr.Ratio next to you. Your thoughts exploded, anxiety rising. Did he hear what you said? Did he not forget? You try helplessly to hide the flushed expression on your face, hoping it won’t throw him off. He towers over you, his expression blank, his eyes devouring yours in interest. You gulp silently as you slowly meet his gaze, unable to avoid his muscly chest in the process. He squints his eyes in response.

-’’ I-Is there an issue professor?’’ You manage to murmur out. His grip on your wrist loosens. He gives you a seemingly unamused look.

-’’ Mind if we…discuss before you head toward your tutoring?’’ He asks coldly.

You gulp silently, surprised by this impromptu proposition. You accept reluctantly. A smirk appears on his face. He leans towards you slightly.

-’’ Wait here, while we wait for the crowd to leave.’’ He states with an expressionless look on his face.

Dr.Ratio watches you as you head back to your seat. He watches you as you sit down nervously. Unbeknownst to you, he’s been thinking about your words all night last night. He as always found you attractive from a distance. You’re even more beautiful from up close. The ways your eyes shine, and the way your cheek turns rosy from his attention. Unfortunately, he wasn’t here to fulfill any type of fantasy. Actually, he was going to break your heart. A teacher-student relationship is less than ideal, and you both had a reputation to keep. You weren’t hard to read, especially for a genius like him. Although the thought of making you cry gave him a pit feeling in his stomach, it was the best for everyone. To shatter your wishes, whether you knew they were impossible or not. Keeping you at a safe distance even if it meant never having a chance to rebuild any kind of interaction with you ever again.

His gaze goes back to you once everyone has left. The class is silent as he locks the door. He doesn’t anyone to barge inside, making this hard moment harder for you. He was going to shatter you after all. He walks slowly towards his desk, the sounds of his shoes and your breathing echoing through the room. He calls you over. You put away the book you’ve been reading, awaiting him. You sit up and approach him as he leans on his desk. You stand in front of him, feeling minuscule.

-’’ What do you wish to discuss?’’ You ask, avoiding his gaze.

Ratio studies your face carefully, feeling his dedication falter now that you’re close. He gives you an unamused look, which raises your anxiety. He sighs. He raises his hand, about to speak before you cut him off.

-’’ If it’s about my outburst towards you yesterday, I apologize!’’ You exclaim, your cheeks were rosy from embarrassment. You bow to him in respect.

Ratio is caught off guard, staring at you with widened eyes. You manage to blank his thoughts for a few seconds.

-’’ I shouldn’t have lost composure in front of my superior, I take full responsibility.’’ You continue. Your heart squeezes when you hear him scoff.

Dr.Ratio looks at you still bowed, a conflicted look on his face. He couldn’t help to think how adorable you looked, but he couldn’t help to also fear his feelings towards you. He was here to break your heart, to make you run away from him, but your sudden apology caused his brain to stop for the first time in forever. He finds himself wanting two things at the same time. He wanted you, your lips on his, but inside he fought those thoughts. He couldn’t. It would be unjust for you. He couldn’t let himself play with such a fragile dynamic. His rationality was slowly losing its grip on his conscience.

You stayed bowed, awaiting a scolding or any kind of punishment, but it never came. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

-’’ Stand up y/n.’’ He says, guiding your shoulder up.

You meet eye-to-eye with him again. You notice a change in his expression. He looks embarrassed and conflicted. You decide not to comment on it. Your face flushes from the sight. You both stare at each other like this for what feels like an eternity. After a while, he takes his hand off your shoulder.

-’’ You are forgiven. Go home.’’ He says almost sheepishly.

You nod slowly, taking a few steps back. You could cut the tension with a knife, as you slowly take your bags and head for the door. Ratio watches you. His gaze never leaves your body. When you leave his class without a word, he sighs, dejected. He wasn’t able to break your heart.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧NSFW Past This Point✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It's the next day, and although today was free, you couldn’t stay inside. As you walk around the guild station, your mind wanders to the events of last night.

When you finally went home after the tutoring session, you couldn’t get Ratio out of your mind. Before bed, you were unable to dissipate the tension inside your body. Shamelessly, you ended up stimulating your clit with your fingers, imagining they belonged to Ratio instead. Pathetically moaning out his name softly out of your lips.

You snapped yourself back to reality, hoping to forget that shameful night. You couldn’t keep fantasizing about him forever, it would hinder your studies, He was way out of your league anyway. He’s your superior, not your classmate. Yet, you couldnt wrap your head about how he acted with you yesterday after class. He was acting strange as if he had more to say. Maybe he felt something that day too? You quickly shake those thoughts away. You end up walking through the academic district, finding a bench to rest on. You quietly observed the trees and the plants around you, enjoying the calm.

Dr. Ratio walked out of his office, plaster mask on his face. He was growing increasingly infuriated at the lack of concentration he was getting. His mind is still on the adorableness of your expression when apologizing to him, unable to decide if he can embrace you or not. You bring out the worst of him, the carnal desires that he so hopelessly tries to avoid in the name of intellect. He leaves the premises, deciding to take a well-deserved walk, surely some fresh air will bring him back to his senses. As he walked through the academic he thought about how his life as been out of balance since you appeared. Your body, your mind, it makes him go insane. He couldn’t keep his gaze off of you in class and it frustrated him. He can only hope to keep his distance from now on. Ratio knew you somehow had some form of attachment towards him. This game was getting more and more dangerous. This isn’t something you’d want so carelessly. Something suddenly caught the corner of his eyes. He turns around and sees you sitting peacefully on a bench across from him. His mind reels. He sighs heavily in frustration, his rationality thrown out of the window.

Your eyes are closed, breathing deeply to enjoy the fresh air. Your mind slowly calms as you find yourself free of thoughts. Unfortunately for you, fate had other plans. You feel the bench shift in weight, someone has sat down next to you. You open your eyes only to be welcomed by Dr.Ratio himself. He sat, his legs slightly spread his profile face to you, His mask was on as he stared in front of him. He doesn’t speak for a while, as if he’s ignoring you. Your mind goes haywire once more, flashbanging you with thoughts of last night and recollections of yesterday’s events. You visibly blush, turning the back of your head against him. Tension sets above the both of you, and an uncomfortable silence sets in.

Your body lit a flame inside of you, once you desperately tried to distinguish. You wanted him, there was no denying it, yet you couldn’t find yourself to admit it.

Ratio finally looked at you, witnessing your overwhelmed behaviour. He called out your name, to which you turned to face him. Behind his mask, Ratio’s eyes widened slightly. Your face was flushed, frustrated. He looked away from you once more, covering the mouth of his mask as if he was pondering. You looked at him curiously, your mind reeling. He groans heavily before grabbing your hand and dragging you away from there. You’re forced to follow him close behind, you try to free yourself from the grip, but he won’t budge. Ratio enters the building with you and barely throws you into his office. -’’ Hey! What the hell!’’ You shouted as he shut the door and locked it behind him.

The mask made it impossible for you to read his emotions or his intentions. He approached you angrily, making you back up until your ass eventually bumps on his desk. Your arms reach behind you, gripping at the edge of the desk to hold yourself. Ratio stands in from of you, towering over you. You stare helplessly at the blank-faced mask. He leans towards you, preventing you from running away. -’’ Confess to me.’’ He blurts out, seemingly unfazed. You widen your eyes, a gasp leaving your throat. -’’ I- Excuse me?!’’ -’’ I know how you feel about me, you’re not hard to read. Quite easy actually. So confess, let me reject you, and we can move on and forget anything ever happened.’’ You stare at him appalled. A mixture of embarrassment and need curling inside your stomach. You felt insulted by the hurtful words, but you found yourself questioning what he meant. If he knew how you felt from the start, why pressure you like this? It’s not like you were planning to confess. You were ready to let these feelings die, so why was he so insistent to reject you in person? It clicked. Heat rises to your face. -’’ You feel the same.’’ You blurt out, sounding less surprised than you intended to.

Ratio’s body tensed. He should’ve known that you would’ve figured it out. You were one of his top students after all. He sighs, unwilling to let this get out of control. -’’ Even if I did, it would be detrimental to the both of us.’’ He murmurs. -’’ I happen to be aware of the same consequences.’’ You whisper, your words rolling out of your tongue.

Your needs starting to exceed your reasoning. The memories of the sins from all night plaguing your mind. The way moaned his name and the way you yearned for his touch. Something has never felt so forbidden to you. Yet, your core felt like it was on fire. Ratio noticed the gradual fissures in your expression. He leans in closer, irritated by both you and the way his body yearned for the same things as you.

-’’ Are you aware of what would happen if-’’ You cut him off, placing your lips on the lips of the masks. You stayed there for a few seconds before pulling your head back, waiting for a reaction from him. Behind the mask, Ratio’s eyes widened. His face felt hot anf his reasoning shattered as soon as he felt the pressure on his lips. He takes a step back from you, waiting to see if you’ll run. The longer you stayed still on the edge of that desk, the more his restraint was crumbling away. He removes the mask from his face. His eyes were furrowed, piercing deep inside your gaze. His face was reddened and startled by your bold move. An almost unperceivable grin on the corner of his lips. Your eyes never left his as he placed the mask on the corner of his desk. He leaned back. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at you or not. His lips would graze yours if you moved an inch.

‘’ Not a word about this outside this room. Understood.’’ He whispered dominantly, his breath leaving shivers on your skin.

-’’ Not a word.’’ You whispered shakily, barely holding on to your conscience as it melted in front of him.

-’’ Damn you.’’ He groaned, placing his lips hungrily on yours. Your mouth collapsed onto each other, months of attraction crashing in this moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Ratio lifts you slightly, placing you on the top of the desk. His hands wander on your back, making you gasp. Ratio takes the opportunity to evade your lips with his tongue, exploring its every crevice. The kiss lasts for a while until Ratio breaks it. A soft moan escapes your lips as he trails kisses from your jaw to your neck. His hands trail back to your chest, slowly unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt revealing your bra and breast. He moves his kisses to your collarbone.

-’’ Fuck, Ratio…’’ You whimpered.

You feel his hand grab your chin as he pulls off of you to look into your eyes. He seemed to enjoy the view, a grin at the edge of his lips.

-’’ Veritas. I order you to call me Veritas in private.’’ He commands you.

You don’t find the words to answer, but you nod eagerly. Satisfied by your obedience, Veritas places his lips on the skin of your collarbone, bruising it slightly where no one would see. A low whine opens your mouth. You could feel his grin on your skin as you sweetly sang for him. He moves one of his legs between yours, passively rubbing your core, making you whimper more as he continues to bruise your skin. He pulls back, observing his canvas with a satisfied expression. Your eyes were watery from the fire burning in your core, and your cheeks were now a deep crimson. You looked pathetic to him and he reveled at the sight.

-’’ Look at you, is this what you wanted.’’ He purred, leaning back next to your ear. His hand slipped inside your bottoms, rubbing on the wet fabric of your panties.

You simply whine as an answer, letting him do as he pleases with you. He stops teasing your folds to swiftly pull off your bottom clothes. Leaving you with only your panties on. His lips find their way back on yours, devouring your mouth once more. He goes back to teasing your folds with his hand while the other trails its way to the clips of your bra. With a swift movement, he unclips your bra, pulling it off your body to reveal your bare breast to him. He escaped you with a pop, making you whimper at the sudden loss of heat. Without rest, he teases your nipple with his tongue. You moan softly at the way he treated your body, your head melting from the arousal you were drowning in. Your panties were now wet and sticky from the stimulation. A low chuckle escapes his lips at the sound of your blissful noises. He separates his lips from your nipple, making them perky from the chilly air.

Veritas traces kisses down your waist to the inner of your thighs. Your body shutters at his touches, boosting his ego as he sees you melt before him. His thumb draws a circle on your clothes cunt, drawing sweet honeyed mean out of you. Your whole body felt hot, your core twitching at the pleasure he was giving you. Veritas scoffs at the slick on your panties.

-’’ You’ve been thinking for a while, haven’t you?’’ He growls, dangerously close to your soaking folds. The vibration makes you whimper lowly in your throat. ‘’Be a darling and take that thing off.’’ He purrs, slipping a finger under the fabric and stretching it before letting it go, slapping against your skin.

You exhale heavily, raising your thighs towards you. You push your underwear away with your head, undressing your cunt in front of him. His eyes glisten with hunger and lust. He can’t help to lick his lips, witnessing your glistening cunt. The gesture makes you embarrassed, causing you to close your legs together slightly. Veritas frowns, grabbing your thighs with his hands, and spreading them. You choke a gaps, feeling the cold air.

-’’ That’s better.’’ He chimes.

His words made you hotter, feeling more slick pooling down your cunt as he eagerly place a kiss right on your clit. You shutter, unable to move your thighs out of his rough grasp. Ratio starts leaving small pecks around your cunt, teasing you as you struggle to keep yourself together. He left a long lap with his tongue between the folds of your cunt as a warning. You barely catch your breath before he dives in, finally devouring you as if you were his last meal. A loud moan escapes your lungs, resonating in the room. Your noises decorate the room as his tongue makes its magic on you. Veritas knows how to make you feel better than you could ever imagine. He closes his eyes as he fucks your hole with his mouth, tracing circles around your folds with his tongue. He takes his time, making you feel your edge as your back collapses on his desk, spread like a piece of art only he can savour. Your juices drip down his chin as he continues to taste your essence. You were about to reach for his hair before he let go of his grip on your thighs, leaning away from your cunt. The filthy display of his chin covered in your slick twist a knot in your core. Your needy walls clench at nothing, making you desperate for some sort of release. He gazes at your expression, like a predator in the middle of devouring its prey.

-’’ Take those legs and hold them there darling~.’’ He whispers, lous enough for you to hear.

You took no time to fulfill his request. You held your thighs close to your chest, freeing his hand to properly treat you. Veritas goes back to lapping at your cunt. He slowly inserts two fingers into your soaking cunt, getting a whine out of you. He pumps them in and out of you at a slow pace, building up your high. Your breaths are erratic, and your mind is completely blank apart from the pleasure you’re receiving. Soon after, Veritas leaves a few kisses on your puffy and reddened clit, giving it a suck from time to time. The sensations make you shiver. Your skin jolts every time his mouth pleases your clit. You mewl pathetically as he curved his fingers, applying pressure to your g-spot. Veritas separates his mouth from your puffy to give you comforting kisses on your inner thigh. He fastens the pace of his fingers, driving you to the edge of insanity. As soon as you clench his fingers, so close to your release, he pulls his fingers out of you. You muffle a cry, the knot in your core loosening painfully. Your body is begging for friction, something to fill and stretch you.

Veritas gets up from his knees, whipping your fluids off his chin with his arm. A pleased grin appears on his face as he watches you lay mostly bare on his desk. You shuffle your weight slightly, feeling exposed by his gaze on you. Your hand is still holding your thigh against your perked-up breast. He leans over you, pressing the clothed prison of his hard cock twitching near your cunt. He forces the fingers he use to fuck your pussy into your mouth. You instinctively suck on them, rolling your tongue on his fingers to lick them clean. He pulls them out with a satisfied look on his face.

He gently holds your cheek within the palm of his hand, moving your face up so that he’s able to plant a soft kiss on your lips. He pulls back, a line of slick connecting you both. His gaze has softened momentarily, observing the now visible hickeys on your shoulder and collarbone.

-’’ You are a magnificent display of art.’’ He whispers, his lips gazing at yours.

You didn’t have the strength to muster an answer, only holding back a soft whine. Veritas chuckles deeply, trailing his back back on your cunt, giving it a few teaseful slaps. You squeal, feeling your hole clench at nothing. You could feel the twitches of his begging cock on your inner thigh. Veritas gets off of you to free himself from his trousers, never losing eye contact with you. His eyes glisten at the thought of fucking you right there on his desk. You shiver in anticipation. His member almost bounces out of his boxers, aching in search of relief. You stare in awe at the display in front of you. You raise your hand towards your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. Once free of cloth, he leans back towards you, his member sloppily grinding on your cunt, soaking itself in your slick. You gasp at the sudden pressure on your core. Veritas takes hold of your wrist, moving it away from your face to reveal your flushed erotic expression. He hums, pleased with the view. He places a firm kiss on your jaw.

-’’ You’re beautiful.’’ He chimes with a heavy breath.

He positions the tip at the entrance of your cunt, applying minimal pressure to prepare you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, placing slow and sloppy kisses. You choke a cry, wanting nothing more but for him to spread you. He answers your cry, plunging slowly inside avoiding breaking you. You gasp at the fullness as he hisses in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around his back, keeping him close to you. Your pussy clenches around his length as he penetrates you.

-’’ You’re so damn tight, you haven’t done this a lot haven’t you?’’ He scoffs, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

You look dazedly at him, and a few tears drop at the edge of your eyes. He kisses them off softly. You bring your arms around his neck, urging him closer to you as he starts moving his hips into you. Your hands find their way to his cheeks, pressing your lips on his and he melts into it. You both deepen the kiss between stifled moans. The obscene noises of wet skin slapping were melodic to your ears. Your pussy clenching desperately on his cock as he gradually quickens his pace. Veritas takes hold of your leg, spreading them further to fuck you to his liking. His thick cock hits all the right spots, giving you pleasure in the form of friction. He breaks the kiss with a raspy groan, feeling himself succumbing to his high. He raises his upper body, sweat dripping off of his muscles. With a hand, he pushes back the damp hair sticking to his forehead. Such an appealing view brings you close to the edge. He looks inhumanly attractive, like a statue made of marble. He seems to read your mind as you carelessly stare at him in awe. A chuckles escapes him, as he uses his now free hand to apply pressure on your neglected clit. You mewl at the sudden stimulation, but you welcome it, your legs shaking erotically. Veritas continues to fuck you, reaching deeper into you. His thumb rotates gently around the swollen clit. You feel the tip of his length barely kissing your cervix. The knot in your core tightens more and more, feeling like it’ll burst. At this point you can only shutter pathetically, exhaling gibberish begging for Veritas to let you come. Veritas is more than happy to let you, as he continues to bully your clit, slapping his cock deep into you. He grabs you waist, strong enough to leave bruises, slapping your body harshly on the base of his cock. The base of his leg now lines with a white ring of filth. He leans closer, whispering with a honeyed tone, his breathing erratic and hot.

-’’ You’re going to come for me now, right darling.’’

-’’ Ugh~Ah~ p-please fill me~’’ You manage to beg in between hot breath and the mush your brain has become.

Veritas titters breathlessly, amused by your fucked-out behaviour. He wasn’t expecting you to beg for his seed inside of you so easily. As much as he was honoured by the proposition, he was conscious enough to know this wasn’t a good idea. He kisses your sticky forehand gently.

-’’ I’m sorry, maybe next time.’’ He whispers. You feel the knot inside of you ready to burst, moaning loudly with tears in your eyes. Veritas purrs praises next to your ear, encouraging you to come on his cock. He licks a tear dripping down your cheek. The knot snaps, causing your body to vibrate vigorously under him. You grip his back with your hands, leaving marks with your nails. Your cunt clenches tight on his cock causing him to let out a single moan. He releases his grip on your thighs to hold you, guiding you through your orgasm. You whimper softly, your head buried in the crook of his neck. He suddenly let go of you, forcing a cry out of your sore throat. He pulls his cock out of your cunt to pump it with his hand. Veritas moans a swear as he lets his release splatter all over your stomach and chest. His warm come glistening on your skin.

You stare at the ceiling, unable to formulate any kind of thought. You stayed still on that desk for what felt like hours until you felt a humid rag cleaning the filth off your body. You lift yourself with your elbow, witnessing Veritas cleaning you up. In your daze state you call out to him. He turns his head towards you with a soft smile appearing on his face. He’s now fully clothed, his hair still moist from all the sweating. After finishing your clean up he leans to press a kiss on your cheek.

-’’ Let’s get you clothed, darling. We need to discuss some things.’’

You nod slowly, not sure if you understand his words. He gently lifts you from the desk, making sure you're sitting comfortably. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tenderly. He huffs affectionately, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

-’’ Let stay like this a while…’’ You murmur.

-’’ alright.’’

This is bound to be an interesting semester.

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euthymiya · 7 months ago

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society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

#rivs writing.#dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio fluff #veritas x reader #veritas x you #veritas fluff #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff

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pearlywritings · 2 months ago

Text

New day - same you

synopsis: morning routine with them and other sweet moments

pairing and characters: Argenti, Aventurine, Blade, Boothill, Dan Heng, Gallagher, Gepard Landau, Jiaoqiu, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Sunday, Veritas Ratio (separately) x reader

tw: established relationship (marriage/dating), fluff, halovian!reader in Sunday's, halovians have back wings here, foxian!reader in Jiaoqiu's (and his part is written before 2.5)

word count: ~4k words

Argenti

With Argenti it almost feels like competition - who's going to be the first to awake and marvel in the morning beauty of their sleeping lover. He, with his flashy but sincere words and loving kisses all over your wrists, and you, with your soft touches and quiet murmurs of the declarations of love.

The fog of the dream is hard to fight through this particular morning - Argenti stayed up way past midnight to fix the “One and Only’s” engine and practically fell into your embrace after the shower, worming his way under your lax arms. His body clock, however, is sending alarms to his brain, pushing him to wake up, stimulating the thought of opening his eyes and having a blessing of witnessing your angelic face.

Which is gone as soon as it appears. You, awake, and still holding your lover in your arms, tug him a bit closer and let his face nestle into the crook of your neck. As a fellow Knight of Beauty there is no hate in your heart for the broken engine that kept Argenti busy tonight, but it doesn't mean you can't dislike it and let him sleep a bit more. It's not like you two are rushing anywhere.

When your tender hand is laid upon his head, lovingly patting and threading fingers through the heavy locks of crimson hair, the knight feels bliss. His mind is sedated and willingly enters the gates of another dream, just as sweet as your presence.

This morning you may not have your share of compliments, breaking the little ritual, but it's more than alright. After all, the beauty of the proper rest is a nice alternative.

Aventurine

No matter what day it is - Aventurine is always the first one to wake up. An occupational hazard, if you could name working for the IPC this way. However, the one of the Stonehearts despises leaving the bed without you, and even more despises waking you up before your alarm clock goes off.

Aventurine is a busy man, who is used to starting his days with calls and messages, managing to have at least three little ‘meetings’ throughout his morning routine. And he can’t have you waking up from his voice taking a sharper edge in the conversation with one of the partners. So you reached a compromise - you sleep with earplugs and he gets to hold you in the morning while on the phone, waking you up with some nudges and kisses once the time comes.

He loves to see your sleepy but absolutely lovesick eyes after he pulls you out of the dream and lets you rest onto his chest with his arm around your body a bit longer, until this exact call is over.

Then you’d take your sweet time in the bathroom and then, as you are cooking breakfast and he is on the phone again, the man would cling to your back with his chin on your shoulder and one arm wrapped around your waist. Then he’d keep talking with you on his lap, keep talking with his hands busy with the dishes, keep talking as you pack his and your lunches. He’d be having the fourth or the fifth call by the time you are all dressed up and smoothing some invisible creases on his clothes, but he’ll always put the caller on hold to get his ‘good morning’ with a kiss and ‘have a wonderful day’ with another kiss.

But don’t be fooled - he does all that only because you explicitly expressed that you don’t mind. Just one word of yours - and he’ll swiftly finish the call, turning off his phone and giving you so much attention that by the time you both leave for work, you're gonna be affectionately sick of him.

Blade

It’s ten more minutes, the swordsman reminds himself after a quick glance at the wall clock and back to your sleeping figure. Nowadays, the Stellaron Hunter doesn’t deny you the request of staying in bed with you even if he can’t sleep normally and stays awake many hours through the night. After some nagging from you he even stopped getting in bed with his clothes on, opting for the sleeping pants and shirts you’ve bought for him to match most of yours.

Blade is leaning back on the headboard with a pillow squeezed in between as one hand, wrapped in bandages, resting on his thigh, while the other is carefully caressing the side of your head. It’s hard to believe that someone is able to snooze so peacefully next to a man like him, let alone, pressing their face into his thigh with arms wrapped around his leg.

And ‘peace’ is what Blade cherishes the most during the mornings spent with you. He makes you feel safe. You make him feel relaxed. His body next to yours is the fruit of your successful worming into his heart, your body next to his is his sanctuary. The man’s mind is at ease and he more often than not falls into the light slumber, dreamless, yet lacking nightmares too.

You crinkle your nose under the more prominent touch of his fingers across your face, and Blade stiffens. It’s still three minutes more, he doesn’t want to wake you up earlier than that. Yet at the same time, something inside him is burning with the strongest yearning of seeing your eyelids sliding up and the prettiest drowsy eyes looking up at him with so much adoration, that his heart starts bleeding like pierced.

The Stellaron Hunter looks at the clock again. One more minute. Maybe tomorrow morning he’ll let you both sleep in. Maybe it’s because you are not in any of the upcoming scripts. Or maybe it’s because he’d like to try cuddling once more.

Boothill

When in his travels, the cyborg doesn't sleep in the usual sense of this word. The correct way to describe it would be ‘recharge’, hiding somewhere in the secure corner, not even lying down, just sitting comfortably enough and letting his systems cool off and eyes plus brain rest.

When he is back home to you however… He literally starts whining and complaining if you take too long to join him in your shared bed.

Boothill always asks you to sleep in panties/shorts only. Not because he is a pervert (though he indeed can touch or lick or suck a time or two), but because in his absence he missed the heat and softness of your skin so much, that he immediately takes the little spoon position, burying his face into your chest and keening on the feeling of your fingers scratching his scalp and playing with his hair.

He loves falling asleep to the tender thumping in your chest, and even more so he loves waking up to the very same sound. It reminds him that he isn't alone in this world, that even with all the losses he experienced he still has someone to adore and treasure. He always hugs your waist a little tighter upon awakening and presses a long kiss to the valley in the middle of your chest, closing his eyes and focusing on the deep breaths you release. It feels like heaven. It is home.

Plus, he loves your confident morning behavior, when you don't bother putting on a shirt after getting out of the bed and walking around the house still mostly bare, playfully swatting his hands away when he reaches to you with grabby motions. Well, given he sometimes walks around completely naked, he has nothing to accuse you of.

Dan Heng

Dan Heng isn’t particularly fond of you sleeping in his room. Not because he guards its contents akin to a dragon that fusses over its treasures or because he doesn’t want your body pressed close to his, no. Simply because his ‘bed’ is hard. And, admittedly, the mattress is not big enough to fit two people comfortably.

But you, oh you, are always so sweet about it and reassure him that you love the close proximity it brings, and that you are ready to deal with the slight body ache in the morning, understanding that Dan Heng himself is more at ease while staying in his own ‘den’ (he is working on it).

Mornings usually start with you on top of him - even in his unconscious state the man still worries about you, so he’d rather have you use him as a pillow (and, as you once teased him, he’d use you as a weighted blanket). Next, you’ll be swift to leave his side, throwing his coat on and quietly tiptoeing to the kitchen.

Usually, by the time you return, your boyfriend is already awake, but still staying under the blanket, waiting for you. He gratefully accepts a steaming mug with a calming herbal tea and you peck his cheek, flopping next to him with your own mug in a hand. You are sitting quietly, shoulders touching and knees bumping, while you are sipping on your drinks and chasing away the remnants of sleep.

Dan Heng smiles when you wiggle your feet under the blanket and put your head onto his shoulder, and as he turns his head to kiss the top of yours, securing a tender end to your special morning ritual, the man thinks he is indeed healing. And that’s what he cherishes about mornings with you most.

Gallagher

Gallagher takes extra long showers in the evenings after his shifts, because he doesn’t want to bring the smell of alcohol, cigarettes and anything else of the bar’s patrons to your bed. He doesn’t want you to grimace first thing in the morning and push him away, complaining about the stink. He’d much rather have your body tightly pressed against his, maybe face squished into his chest, arm thrown over his waist and legs stuck between his.

Gallagher loves just lazing in bed with you, as you are both awake. Loves rubbing his cheek against yours and hearing you reprimand him lightheartedly for the stubble. And yet, you never move away, welcoming his big palm resting on your hip, fingers lightly digging into fat and dragging you even closer to him.

Today you, however, throw a leg over his body and swiftly climb on top, immediately settling onto his chest like many times before. It’s because you know he has a night shift and you don’t plan to let him go until at least lunch. And your lover is strong, he can throw you off using just one arm or by simply turning his body under yours, but he does none of this, all because he absolutely adores your little sparks of possessiveness.

His heavy hand lowers onto your head, gently ruffling your hair, to which you grumble, poking his side with a single finger, only to scratch him lightly with all five a second later. Oh how deliciously he shivers and even a following pinch to your ass is unable to wipe a pleased smile off your face.

He’ll tell you stupid stories from the night before at the bar, share the worst jokes his patrons slurred and admit the teasing Sioban put him through once again, because ‘the old dog was glancing at the clock, counting the minutes till running home to you’. And you’ll be laughing. And he’ll be laughing too.

Gepard Landau

The Captain of the Silverman Guards is obviously the man of schedule. He wakes up at the same time, he wraps up his morning routine in the same period of time, and he leaves the house at the same time.

Every morning the man is trying his hardest to get out of the bed as sneakily as he can, because otherwise there are chances of waking you up and his heart cries when you follow him around wrapped in the blanket while whining that it’s so cold to be out of the bed and his warmest embrace (yes, you’re sometimes faking it, but come on, your golden retriever of a boyfriend is warm and comfy to cuddle with).

Can never deny you, when you squeeze yourself past him in the hot shower, explaining that yes, you are cold, and yes, it’s saving water (obviously not to admire your handsome lover and steal a couple of morning kisses from him).

You are still sleepy as the water is gushing on your body, which is held in place by two strong hands on your hips. Gepard can’t take his eyes from your cute droopy expression and smiles softly when you lift your head to let the water splash against your face. He doesn’t like it when you sacrifice your sleep in the mornings, but he can’t lie to himself that he loves spending these moments with you either. He gently brushes your wet locks away from your cheeks and forehead, leaning down to plant a small peck on your chin.

A cheerful ‘hooray’ is coming out in bubbles due to the water getting into your mouth, but you don’t care, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest instead. Oh Qlipoth, let this poor man be not that obvious with the raging blush from the new mark blooming under his uniform while leaving the house

Jiaoqiu

Waking up with the rays of rising sun to throw on an embroidered robe and get to the kitchen to cook another delicious breakfast for you and him is indeed a pleasurable and relaxing part of the healer’s morning. However, much more than that he enjoys wondering in his head who’s going to wake up hugging whose tail the evening before, just to arise the next morning and see if his guess is right.

Opening his fanged mouth in a big yawn and squeezing still shut honey golden eyes even more, Jiaoqiu starts his day with a nice full body stretch. Something soft gets into his mouth and immediately jerks, provoking an abrupt puff of air released from the male’s lungs. There is a dissatisfied mumble somewhere close to his collarbones, and when heavy eyelids slide open, the foxian catches just the swift motion of your ears pressing back against your head.

He can't help but smile softly, leaning down and kissing the top of it (his own pink ear slightly twitching as you quietly murmur in delight), then moving back and looking down to assess your sleeping positions.

Face to face and legs tangled together, your bodies lay closely to each other. With your nose buried into his neck and arms wrapped around his frame, Jiaoqiu, to his greatest disappointment, notices both your tails peacefully resting on the mattress behind your backs.

What a pity… Now it means you won't be helping him comb through his fur to make it look presentable and he won't be doing the same to you… Unless…

As the clawed hand carefully reaches behind you with a clear intention to mess up your tail and sly eyes crinkle in mischief, Jiaoqiu is truly ready to start his morning routine even to the extent of your complaints.

Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan is a true connoisseur of soft things. He has the fluffiest carpets back at home, silkiest fabrics for clothes, his bed is like one big white cloud, and his pet is a lion with a huge mane. Not to mention his beloved, who has the softest thighs to nap onto in the whole universe (he has never compared to others, but he is a firm believer).

The General has been having trouble waking up in the morning for a while now. Alarm clock? Ignored. Mimi’s nudges and complaining groans? Ignored too. Your loving voice and tender kisses all over his face? Careful, he is the Dozing General, not the Weak one - you are very much at risk every time to be dragged back in bed in your husband's embrace.

And that little fight you put up every morning to get him from under the blanket and send him off to the bathroom is his favorite part. Just like today.

If anyone was to walk into your bedroom, they'd see a strange image of your strained form being hunched and jerking backwards, trying to rip your arm from an iron grasp, and just a single hand visible in the mess of pillows and blankets, holding onto your wrist and trying to pull you back onto the bed.

You swear, the man hasn't even opened his eyes, relying solely on his other sharp senses to effortlessly catch you when you tried to flee after kissing him good morning.

It's pointless to remind him of the meeting today - he'll get there in time either way, but you still try to hold your ground and win this fight of stubbornness.

Jing Yuan laughs, when with a loud gasp you fall onto his swiftly sitting up figure and are immediately thrown back onto the bed with his sturdy body pinning yours underneath. He loves the heat of your face he feels when his cheek is pressed to yours. He adores when you wiggle under him, refusing to admit that this display of his strength didn't leave you hot and bothered. And he is absolutely smitten when eventually you let out a long exasperated sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders, admitting your defeat, agreeing to sleep for a little bit more.

Loucha

The merchant is too used to the feeling of loneliness in his travels. Getting out of a hardly couple-of-days-familiar bed, grabbing a pin from a nightstand table to fix a quick messy bun and, swiftly stopping by the bathroom to freshen up his sleepy face, the man drags his feet to the kitchen.

Oil is sizzling in a pan, as the man throws the cut vegetables in it, grabbing a spatula. He is barefoot, still in his sleep wear and long locks of golden hair hanging in messy waves to his shoulder length. It’s the sight that is hard to resist, and as much as you’d love to keep watching your lover, so uncharacteristically unkept and cozy, the need to get closer to him gets too strong. As your arms encircle his waist and lips press to wherever you can reach, Loucha doesn’t fight a soft smile. Yes, on some of his trades he’s on his own, but your presence is such a sedative to his soul and mind.

You ask him what he is cooking and he answers, letting you duck your head under his arm, so you could see for yourself, and then offers you to choose something extra if you so desire. Giving him your response, you immediately suggest helping, but he declines, carefully prying one of your hands from his stomach and lifting it to his lips, murmuring how he doesn’t want your pretty fingers to get all tired and dirty in the very morning.

But you are a little stubborn, so when he lets you go, you stay behind his back and reach for a simple jade pin, heroically holding the whole mass of his hair, and take it out, letting the heavy waves cascade down his back. The fingers he’s just been so worried about, bury into the locks, brushing out the knots, dividing in parts and then twisting them one around another, collecting his hair into a nice, but simple braid.

The merchant is used to spending his mornings alone. But admittedly he loves you being by his side and your adorable little gestures much more.

Sunday

It is a well-known fact that the halovian has OCD and his prior commitment to the Order only proves it more strongly. Admittedly, ever since he’s been released from Gopher Wood’s clutches and left Penacony, he’s been getting better: less paranoid, less twitchy, more forgiving to not only ones around him, but himself. He’s been working on abandoning some of his habits, going as far as styling his clothes in a kind of mismatched yet still smart manner. And still he’s having a hard time not to fuss over his appearance.

While sleeping, Sunday is restless. Having been sharing a bed with him for a long time, you’ve been a witness to all - thrashing from side to side, kicking off and then dragging back the blanket, both head and back wings flapping in sleep, messing equally his feathers and hair (sometimes yours too).

And sometimes, Sunday wants to cry. It’s so intimate, it’s so sweet, it’s something he was used to doing on his own, but here you are - doing it for him, cooing lovingly and pressing tender kisses to the smaller wings protruding from the back of his head, making them tremble slightly and the milky skin of his cheeks - flash with crimson.

But you are understanding. You are gentle, when you offer the miserably looking man your hands and tug him out of the bed, walking him to the huge mirror and asking him to sit down in front of it. Your hands are soft and careful, as they are grooming his wings, rearranging the feathers correctly, removing broken ones, fluffing up the beautiful plumage that reminds of the night sky.

And you trust him to do the same for you! His hands are shaking, his breath is hitching while you keep encouraging him to clean up your wings after sleep, being nothing but patient as the morning sun arises.

The ex-head of the Oak Family used to say that patience is a virtue, but in the dawn glow of your bedroom it turns into his paradise.

Veritas Ratio

No matter what your sleep schedule is, Veritas is always the first one to wake up. Sitting up he reaches for his nightstand drawer, tapping the phone’s screen to stop the alarm clock’s ringing. His other hand automatically reaches for the black-furred critter, nestled onto his lap, to gently pat its soft ‘shell’, receiving a quiet content chirp. Once done with the phone, the man turns to the other side of the bed, reddish-pink eyes lowering to your still sleeping form, with another critter snoozing under your arm. One more is spotted at the end of the bed.

Every single morning Veritas witnesses the same view - well, maybe your sleeping pose is different, or the placement of your ‘cats’ on the bed, or how much of the blanket you've either stolen from him or on the contrary thrown at him… still it's always you, him and your recently adopted pets.

And every single morning your lover can't help but take some minutes from his work out session and dedicate them to simply sitting in bed next to you, observing, doing his own little research. Today he notes how you've moved slightly onto his part of the bed, head occupying both yours and a small part of his pillow. Then his gaze moves downwards, noticing the covers being pulled down your waist and feet peeking from under the blanket. That's so you - feeling stuffy and hot yet still moving closer to his body.

Carefully, not to disturb you and give a couple of more minutes to rest, Veritas bends down and kisses your cheek, testing another hypothesis of his - would you smile in your sleep, upon feeling the touch of his lips on your skin?

He is surprised, when you open your eyes, staring back at him in a haze. Sensing your awakening, the orange critter practically zooms from under your arm, then onto the man’s pillow and off the bed, disappearing somewhere in the hallway. But he hardly pays attention to it. No, his eyes are glued to yours and that sweet smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth as you reach forward to circle his neck with your arms.

Yes, his thinks contented, closing his eyes, another hypothesis of his has been proven right.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #argenti x reader #aventurine x reader #blade x reader #boothill x reader #dan heng x reader #gallagher x reader #gepard landau x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan x reader #loucha x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday x reader #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail fluff

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rninies · 8 months ago

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✮ plush heaven

౨ৎ veritas ratio x reader. fluff, gn!reader, reader has a slight obsession w plushies (it's totally not self indulgent haha) — wc: 395

notes. back w another ratio fic hi

"veritas, look at this! isn't this a cute doll?" you asked, shoving your phone in front of his face. your phone showed him a picture of a doll you've been eyeing for quite some time now.

instead of veritas giving you his usual smile and 'yeah, it's cute', he frowns. "another one? you have so many on the bed, and not to mention the special drawer for your plushies is going to be full."

"but this is a cute one!" you whined. "look at how cute this bunny looks! and the color!"

veritas's eyebrows twitched. "oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch."

you gasp dramatically. "what the hell, veritas? over a plushie?"

"i want to be able to sleep peacefully at night without any plushies blocking the space between you and me." veritas's frown deepens at that thought, which makes you laugh.

"you're that jealous over a plushie?" you laugh, setting your phone down. "well, they are indeed more soft than you, cuddly, and the perfect size to hug." the teasing tone in your voice was enough to make veritas let out a huge sigh.

"shut up." veritas says before standing up from the couch to go grab a drink. the mischievous glint in your eyes did not disappear, instead it shines even brighter knowing that he did not refuse your request in buying the doll.

"so can i buy the doll?" you asked again, standing behind veritas as he drinks from the glass. "i promise it won't take up your space in the bed! i'll still cuddle you! you're my number one cuddle pillow." you give him a big smile, trying to convince him to let you buy it.

veritas sighs in defeat, giving in. "fine... how much is it?"

veritas freezes when you hug him and only stares at you when you run back to the couch and place your order.

he smiles softly, sighing. maybe he will allow you to keep buying these plushies you love so dearly just to see that big and cute smile on your face.

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pearlymel · 6 months ago

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That boy is mine.

୨୧ Summery: hsr men and their love languages.

୨୧ Including: Aventurine, Jing Yuan, Sunday, Veritas Ratio, Argenti.

୨୧ Warnings: none. Gn! Reader, All fluff, just the hsr men spoiling you like how you should be spoilt.

♡︎ Aventurine— receiving gifts.

“Err, Aventurine? This is the fifth diamond bracelet this month.”

“Today is a special day.”

“You say that everyday…” you whisper to yourself in amusement while your fingers brush over the expensive material sealed around your wrist. You try not to sound disappointed because—you’re not really disappointed but rather confused or guilty for him spending so recklessly with you.

Upon seeing the guilt he knew so well etched on your face, he quickly steps closer, “It looks pretty on you, which is all the reason i need.” He teases, his hand snaking towards your lower back. “You didn’t complain about the shoes and necklace I bought you,” he shrugs with a grin plastered on his face and you shake your head in return.

“I appreciate everything you do to me, i just dislike it when a lot of money is wasted.” You gently scold him but he brushes it off with a laugh.

“Darling, you need to stop thinking like this. Money was meant to be spent.” He playfully flickers your forehead, before gently caressing the spot with his thumb.

“How can i ever spoil you back, hmm?” He grins at your question, his thumb that was caressing your forehead moves to your chin. Holding it with a firm, yet gentle grip. “I told you, silly,” he murmurs, leaning forward to bring his face closer to yours. “All you have to do is be cute, and give me a kiss every once in a while.”

“… is that it?” Your figure almost slumps at his too simple requests. From now on, you’d try harder to shower him with all the kisses and affection.

“That’s all it takes. Your cute little reactions and your pretty face are more than enough to spoil such a simple man, like me.” He says, his hand slipping down to your waist, pulling you closer. You take ahold of his face with your hands, pulling his face to give his lips some attention, his hand tightening around your waist “will this suffice?”

“I’m a bit greedy, one more.” He whispers, and you press your lips against his again for another chaste kiss. “Again,” he says in a bit more demanding tone this time, taking over the lead and kissing you even deeper, trailing his lips along your jawline then a final kiss just below your earlobe. Your whole face burning just from simple kisses.

“I will get you anything you want, everything you desire,” he whispers against your neck, “A yacht, a penthouse, jewels, whatever you want. My only condition is you stay with me, and make those cute little noises when i spoil you.”

“Cute little noises?” You squint your eyes at him, pulling back to see him, “you mean.. my surprised expressions?”

“Exactly like that. The soft gasps, wide eyes, and adorable smile.” You grins while taking you in a crushing embrace and you only laugh back at him.

♡︎ Jing Yuan— physical touch.

You suddenly can’t breath when the general came home particularly clingy today. Big arms preventing you from escaping his hold with his lips not leaving any spot untouched on your face.

“Missed you today,” he would whisper in his thick raspy voice, hands roaming around your body with strands of his hair almost covering your face, “my pretty spouse.” His voice is muffled from his face buried in your neck.

“You’re the clingiest man i know.”

His suddenly stopped for a moment, expression darkening slightly, “you know other men?”

“Ohh, the most jealous one too.” You chuckle when he shoots you a pout, sometimes you could imagine him looking like a big sad lion.

“Not that I’m complaining.” You press a tender kiss to his forehead, and just like that, his shoulders relax and his golden eyes seem to shine just a bit brighter. “Was work harsh on you today?”

Jing Yuan let out a drawn-out sigh, "Exhausting is more like it," he replied with a tired smile. "Still need to train Yanqing later tonight per his request,"

His expression softened as he looked down to meet your gaze.

"I've been looking forward to this time with you all week." He hums, resting his head on your chest and your hand immediately finds its place on his hair. Jing Yuan smiles as he feels your delicate fingers take out the red ribbon from his long, white hair, letting it cascade down to his shoulders.

"I should call in sick tomorrow," he grins when he hears you quietly chuckle, beginning to lean on you as your fingers worked through his hair.

“Is this the general of the luofu?” You decide to tease him a bit, his rough hands squeezing your thighs in return. “No, this is just your spouse now. All putty for you."

♡︎ Veritas Ratio— Quality time.

Ratio was sprawled on his stomach, a large book held in his hands. He was so engrossed in the content that he didn't even hear you enter the room until you jumped onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” You simply ask as you make space for yourself next to him, He turned his head to glance at you for a second before returning his attention to the page.

"Reading a book on advanced mathematics," he replied, his voice sounding a bit distracted. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

“Oh the boring stuff.”

"Boring? Excuse you. This stuff happens to be quite fascinating. Not everyone can appreciate the complexity and beauty of mathematical theory, you know."

Your brain goes short circuit at his explanation, and you shake your head instead. "You can read your amazing stuff to yourself while i... Maybe brush your hair?"

Ratio couldn't help but scoff at your suggestion. "Brush my hair, really? What, do you think I'm a doll or something?"

But secretly, the idea of you running your fingers through his hair had a certain appeal to him. He shrugged nonchalantly, feigning indifference.

"Fine, go ahead. Do with my hair whatever makes you happy, I suppose."

"Yay," you immediately grab the brush from your drawer and gesture him to lean back against your chest, and he immediately obliged. Melting back against your chest while holding his book to his lap. “I love you,” you then whisper and he only hums in return.

You huff at his silence, "I thought you were going to say something like 'oh i love you to the moon and back!' or 'i actually don't love you'." You say in a mocking tone.

Ratio chuckled again, shaking his head in mock annoyance. "Oh, so you're expecting some sappy, romantic cliché, are you? Sorry to disappoint you, darling."

He reached up and gently poked your forehead with his index finger. "I don't think I could actually say something like that with a straight face. I have standards, you know."

Then you tug his hair gently with the brush, showing your annoyance, making him gasp. "Hey, careful with the hair," he protested half-heartedly, feigning irritation. "Do you want me to go bald before I'm thirty?"

"At least you look pretty now." You hand him a mirror to show him the creation you've made on his hair. Tiny braids.

“Aeons, what have you done to my hair?”

"I made an artwork, thank you very much."

He took another look at his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to examine the braids in his hair from different angles.

“Artwork, you say?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Looks more like a bird’s nest, if you ask me.”

You blink twice at his words, "Wait, what if birds actually lay their eggs on your hair?" His smirk vanished, replaced by a look of mock horror. "Oh gods, please don't give them ideas," he said, you both quickly start unbraiding his hair.

♡ Sunday— Acts of service.

“Is this better, love?” Sunday asks softly when he took off his coat to drape it around your shoulders instead, and you nod your head. He wouldn’t want his beloved to catch a cold now.

Both of you decided to go on a walk in penacony as a date, just to enjoy each other’s presence for the night.

He wraps a protective hand around your waist, moving to walk on the side of the street while you were safely walking on the sidewalk.

“I wouldn’t ask for anything more.” You smile brightly under the light poles. "I’m relieved to hear that, darling." Sunday replied with a pleasant hum, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as you leaned into him for warmth. He smiled at your laugh, finding your happiness to be such a joyous sight. you had always been such an angelic being in his eyes; just the sight of your smiling and laughing was enough for his heart to flutter madly in his chest.

"careful, dont trip. watch your step."

You step to the side just in time to avoid tripping over a few rocks, giving him the sweetest smile, "Always caring for me, my love."

Sunday felt his cheeks flush ever so faintly at your smile. The soft feathers of his wings grazing his cheeks in a failed attempt to hide the redness. Your sweet personality and mannerisms tugging at the strings of his heart in an almost dizzying manner.

"i cant possibly let my angel hurt themself on our date, now can i?"

It was your turn for your cheeks to flush at his words. Your tried turning around to avoid him seeing your face when your hand landed upon a bush of flowers.

You carefully pluck the crimson one before handing it to him, "for you,”

He took the flower from your hand and twirled it between his fingers, admiring the pretty, crimson hue. he tucked it behind his ear, the red complimenting his hair nicely.

he chuckled in amusement. “it's beautiful. how did you know red is my favourite colour?"

"Is it? Last time i gave you a blue shirt and you said it was your favourite colour." You laugh, plucking another flower to tuck it right at the fluttering wings next to his ears.

“Hmm, everything you give me is my favorite. That’s only fair.” For some reason the way Sunday talks, makes you believe for sure that you’re definitely safe with him.

♡ Argenti— words of affirmation.

“I cannot get enough of you.” he murmured against your hair. It’s quieter than usual now with his presence, which is something you don’t hate either.

"You flatter me with your words, darling." You whisper, feeling protected around his arms, with your head resting on his chest where you could listen to his heart beat rather quicker than usual.

"And you flatter me with your presence, my love," Argenti replied, his voice a deep and velvety rumble. His hand rose to gently brush a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering on your cheek for a moment too long.

The steady rhythm of his heart seemed to pick up its pace as it thumped against his chest, a subtle giveaway of his growing excitement. "You make my heart beat faster than it should," he confessed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Your words always manages to make me fall head over heels for you.” You say dreamily, taking a few on his red end strands of hair to twirl with. He laughed softly, shifting his position so he could look down at you. He gently tilted your chin up, his thumb gently grazing your jawline.

"Where do I even begin? Your beauty is without equal, a sight so captivating it robs me of my breath every time I lay my eyes upon you," he whispered, his voice soft yet filled with affection. "Your intelligence is like a rare gem, sharper than the finest sword and just as precious. Every moment spent with you is a treasure, my love."

You shift in your place a bit to take a good look at his face, and you only see gentleness and sincerity behind it.

“I lied, my skin might burn from all this sweetness.” You admit, pressing your chin against his shoulder.

Argenti laughed again, and you might think it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He gently wrapped his arms around yours, "Seeing the effect I have on you is a sight more beautiful than any sunrise," he purred, voice dripping like honey, his hand now moving to glide down your neck, fingers tracing patterns on your nape.

"I will never tire of making your skin burn, my love. Each blush and shiver you give me only adds fuel to my desire for you." His thumb traced circles on your nape, and you could just sleep right here.

“I never thought I would be this… desire-able?” You mumble, the hint of insecurity showing, making him sigh.

"Nonsense,” he tightens his arms around you, “The way you move, the sound of your voice, the way you look at me... it drives me to the brink of madness. I find myself craving you at all hours of the day, constantly longing for your touch, your presence alone is enough to make me weak in my knees."

You frown at his words, relaxing right here, in the arms of your lover, “you’re too precious.”

“Likewise, darling.”

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail fluff #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #sunday #sunday x reader #Veritas Ratio #veritas ratio x reader #ratio x reader #argenti #argenti x reader #honkai star rail x reader #fanfic #hsr men #hsr x you #honkai star rail

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n0tamused · 2 months ago

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HELLO I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT I REMEMBERED WHAT THE REQUEST WAS ABOUT ok here we go

How do you think Ratio would be with a really touch-starved s/o but hides because they're too shy?

Maybe Ratio would notice whenever he would touch reader but not really understand if something's wrong but the reader on the inside is freaking out like "omg omg he's touching me act cool act cool"

But the eventually it gets so much that Ratio asks what's wrong, and reader tells him, and maybe after that reader finally sets free and is very touchy (hugs, touches, and bites) with Ratio to the point that even he gets a bit flustered

Thank you in advance 🙏

— 🦐

A/n: Hii! Thank you for stopping by again and leaving the request. This time it came in lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Contents: Dr. Ratio x GN Reader, fluff, both of y'all are touch starved, headcanon format

-Busy schedules and fleeting touches seems to be the best descriptor to your current state of relationship with Veritas. The former was always there, both of you were busy in truth, and those times you got to yourselves were all the more precious. The latter was something you were trying to branch into something more, yet felt too scared to do so.

-Perhaps the word scared wouldn’t be the best word to use, but it felt so unnatural to want it, yet wanting it all the same. To hold him and be held, to hold his hand and kiss his knuckles, to snuggle up to him on the couch or to rest your head on his shoulder and read off the pages he was reading. It never was a necessity, but rather a small, aching itch underneath your skin

-And under your skin is where it stayed and boiled and cooled down and ached. At times you’d flush at the thought of all these sweet things happening, but when it came to acting upon them, not only were you tongue tied but also incapable of movement by the looks of it

-At best it could be annoying

-Both of you advocated for clear communication, no beating around the bush and no nonsense, so why haven’t you brought this small need up to Ratio? He’d surely understand. In the end, he was human as well, and you knew that better than anyone else. So what’s holding you back?

-You can’t find the answer to that question. You leave it to the back of your mind.

-While PDA isn’t something high on Ratio’s list at all, he indulges in small touches behind closed doors much more than one may think. If you’re sitting together on the couch and you’re close enough, he’d have your legs over his lap and he’d run his hands up and down your shin, sometimes soothing the knots in the muscles of your legs, other times his hand just rests there. He moves you out of the way by placing his hand on your hips and moving you carefully to make more room for him to pass by, this often happens in the kitchen in the early mornings where you’re still droopy eyed and sluggish. Other times its him brushing the tips of his fingers across your jawline before sleep, or when he is walking past you he gives you a deep, much more tender look - a warm look. He smiles with his eyes more than anything..

-There were times you thought he was wordlessly asking for you to hold his hand, but you summed that up to your own selfish desires and not something he wanted. You were clearly imagining things.

-But as time went on, Ratio couldn’t get it out of his head - your odd behavior when he did indulge in more intimate sides of the relationship. The flush of your cheeks, the uncharacteristic nervousness, the widened eyes, the sudden jumpiness and the fidgeting of your hands and shuffling of feet. To some extent it worried him, and to a greater extent it confused him. You were clearly flustered, but what if there was something underlying, fear perhaps? Now that worried him..

-As soon as it began to gnaw on his mind he asked you about it. ‘What is wrong? Is something wrong?’

-Oh, if you could flush harder you would. The world seemed to get another mute for a few heartbeats, and then that mute began to stammer and trip over words like they were speaking for the first time in a millenia.

-You want more affection but don’t know how to approach him? Touch-starved?

-Why didn’t you just.. say so? -He is more mind boggled about that than anything else. He knew you were touch starved, he knows you, but the reason he never went out of his way to give you too much affection is because he was still feeling around the boundaries of your relationship, didn’t want to make your comfortable and he didn’t want to taste anything unknown to him as well, not yet. He loves you, but he won’t rush the relationship.

-After a lengthy conversation about intimacy, pda, cuddles and snuggles, the proverbial knot of tension in your body dissipated, the tension lessened significantly.

-So you indulge yourself now, still somewhat shy and new to openly showing affection, but he never turned you down unless work called and he needed his alone time. He always held your hand back, patted your head, kissed your knuckles, hugged you longer, and more often now - you found your head in his lap much more frequently, his hands combing through your hair, massaging your scalp. You began leaving fleeting kisses over his jaw or cheeks, and the first time you did it he earned a faint blush across his cheeks. It was just surprising, he said as he coughed into his hand.

-He almost glares at you to steel himself when he sees you standing next to him with that signature look in his eyes that says you’re about to smother him in some quick kisses. It’s a jest of course, he loves the affection though - he’s still getting used to it all along with you.

-You will find yourself getting kissed much more often too, around the house or even in public - although that is much more rare - but he’d kiss your cheek or forehead, hug you and squeeze you and chuckle when you release a huff at how tightly he hugged you. ‘You’re squeezing me’ - ‘Is that a complaint?’

-It will take time in order for the blush on your cheeks to not choke you when you go to him and show him affection, but it doesn’t need to go away. It is cute, you think, how your heart flutters and feels at ease now whenever he reciprocates the affection. Although he'll take longer to get to those bites of yours. He does return those as well, for your information.

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espikola · 7 months ago

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Fun fact if you ever feel embarrassed remember: in Czechia we have a bush that always blooms on Easter and it’s rich and gold so it’s blossoms look like someone’s tears or like rain just like Klimt painted it and I adore it so much. It’s called zlatý déšť which means golden rain in English. I thought it would be cute to write that on that aventurine poster drawing since whenever you win a jackpot golden coins start to drop out of the machine. So I added it, posted it, it already had over 1k likes when someone on twitter started laughing at it. I was like what is their problem so I googled what it means in English and I almost got a heart attack. Idk where yall even learn these phrases bc I gen thought golden rain is a name of the bush plus a name of a chemical experiment. I wholeheartedly apologize to everyone who saw it on twitter that day because I swear I did not know golden rain, such a beautiful name, is a name associated with urinating on someone during the woowoo in English

#ratiorine fluff #ratiorine fanart #ratiorine #hsr dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio #aventio fanart #aventio #aventurine #hsr aventurine #hsr #hsr fanart #dr ratio fanart #raturine #is that the ships name bc it’s really funny

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earthtooz · 10 months ago

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cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader

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generalsdiary · 11 months ago

Text

a stupid bet (part 2)

gn!reader x Dr. Ratio

part one here

warnings: kissing, suggestive themes, occasional curse words (?)

word count: 6k~

a/n: didn’t expect so many of you to like it, so here’s part two, I knew which way I wanted to take this – and no it isn’t smut like some might assume. two adults with a complicated situation such as this would behave a tad differently, this ain’t a movie after all. but it was fun writing, a bitch to edit it, I hope you guys like this one as well, I am quite pleased with how it turned out. not beta read (we get snapped like Tingyun), if he is ooc this has been written before he became playable ((doubt there will be another part btw))

description: the aftermath of the bet, how the new dynamic functions, stubborn and arrogant attitudes with the fear to show emotions underneath it, all the while yearning for each other (fluff) yes they are communicating, this ain’t miscommunication trope, DW

It is the same day. Late at night with the workplace practically empty, you are finishing up some work. Being in a high position of power means also late hours, you stand up to stretch from sitting for hours.

It is quiet, everything seems still and desolate, with only the occasional sounds of machines, the soft buzzing of the lights, and the occasional Ruan Mei’s creation passing through.

You’re not alone to your surprise. Another figure also stands up to stretch, you aren’t aware of the presence until you hear the low sigh.

Veritas Ratio was still here, also finishing up work, just like yourself. Both hardworkers it seems… You two have a lot more in common than either of you would ever care to admit.

Upon acknowledging each other's presence he simply says. “Oh, so you’re still here as well?”

You nod, not finding the words to say, plus small talk is pointless in your mind. To which he nods back.

“Mind if I ask what kind of work you’re still working on at the time of night?” He tilts his head, you don’t know if it is cockiness in his voice or actual curiosity. On the other hand, he should also be very aware of your area of work.

“I’m done- about to head home~” You avoid the question, the simple rivalry and some sort of defensiveness still existing.

“Huh.” He ponders for a moment. “We’re both here, we’re both almost done and we’re both also heading out? It seems we’re more similar than I thought.” He makes a lame joke, to which you cross your arms and stare him down with a raised eyebrow as if to ask ‘Seriously?’.

You do answer, more of a scoff, “Perhaps” as you turn off the screen. Then the irony of the stupid attempt at the joke also brings a smile to your face. You don’t even notice it.

He also slightly smiles, realizing the stupidity of it, “Well… I mean, we’re already here at this late night. We could also just go ahead and leave together if it is alright with you?”

You nod, not thinking much of it, “Sure, c'mon.” You two exit the building.

He happily follows you out and you both soon exit the large lab building and walk out into the dark and chilly night. You weren’t aware, or maybe you didn’t notice the weather conditions being added to Herta’s space station. You two walk, all alone in the dark of late night, with only each other’s company to keep you warm.

He looks over to you, as he whispers. “Seems so peaceful and calm here, doesn’t it? It feels as if everyone has vanished from the station with you and me only left standing. Some life of the scientist huh?”

You nod at his words. Noticing your silence, it didn’t feel awkward, more tired, full of confusing thoughts and comforting silence. He continues, “How about we just keep walking without saying anything else? Let’s just… let’s just walk together and enjoy the peace of this… artificial night.”

“Sure” You didn’t mind his suggestion, walking beside him and feeling tempted to hold his hand.

He also gets an urge to hold your hand and even, hold you close. This quiet, late night has always made him feel at ease and rest, and this moment is no exception. In the darkness, it feels different, the way you two interact and behave.

You break the silence. “I’m still shocked we kissed today” to which he chuckles softly.

“I could almost say that I was surprised too. It didn’t feel like just any old kiss, it felt… like there was so much more inside it. A sort of intensity, a spark, that I couldn’t shake off for a long time. Almost as if my body felt as though it could simply melt from that kiss. It took me a bit to focus on my work again today.” He dryly chuckles.

You laugh softly at his analysis, “It appears someone liked it a lot.” And also avoiding the thoughts of it. He laughs softly at your tease and whispers, his voice a bit more tender and sensual. “Oh, I definitely liked it. I liked it a lot. It was as if I could hear some sort of music playing in that kiss. It was as if the very notes that this melody was composed of was just for that single kiss… that was the impression the kiss left on me…”

You smile, “Interesting” Is he actually truthful or mumbling nonsense? Who could know? You two bump into each other while walking and your nostrils fill with his cologne again today, just like while you were kissing and you sigh.

He also sighs and feels a sudden urge to wrap his arm around your waist, to take you in towards himself. He barely holds back the urge. “Interesting would be an understatement. You and I really must share a similar taste,” his voice goes lower, “but I can say one thing. I don’t think there was enough of our… closeness and the kissing.” He has more thoughts about this, yet quite unlike him he decides to keep them to himself, the thoughts of how your lips feel like they were made to just kiss each other and only each other, and perhaps meant to walk together in these quiet night station hours… He sighs softly, his mind turning into just nonsense.

It certainly is pleasant to be walking during these hours, and his words make you ponder over your thoughts and possible bubbling emotions. The calmness is unlike most other places, yet this peaceful atmosphere keeps you calm with which you also feel a bit of temptation. Feeling like you want to give in, want to take his hand in yours… Be close to him.

You both walk slowly, wanting perhaps to be closer to one another, your hands bumping into each other as you walk. Your bumps, as well as every other accidental touch and brush, only seem to tempt you further.

When your fingers brush against his you move them away like you got burnt, it feels like a zap of electricity, they feel too hot, too cold… like fire. And you wonder… gods why do you just want to hold his hand and get burnt? It seems as if those accidental touches are now turning even more intentional. You both keep the slow pace, perhaps both enjoying the feeling of being this close together and not wanting it to end.

Silence befalls you two once more. You don't know what to say. Stuck in a quiet and silent moment, as your bodies brush against each other with each step. Shoulders bumping, fingers brushing. Gravitating closer, you can feel that gentle heat of his body. There isn't much you two can say at this moment – you should just let this peaceful, calm, yet sensual and tempting moment speak for itself… a moment like this is worth more than any words could ever describe. Although this is more like a set of moments, rather than a single moment. Time feels like it is speeding by, seconds running yet it also feels like it has been slowed down.

„Veritas,“ You say his name softly. At the sound of your voice, he turns his head a little bit and looks right at you through the faint night lights. The look on his face seems to be filled with longing and passion, a look on his face that seems to be waiting for you to complete whatever sentence you were trying to say. He seemed quite eager to hear what you were about to say. His eyes looked as if they were burning with passion. Or perhaps you just imagined it all and he was merely waiting for you to speak, but you had his attention.

„You said you wanted to get to know me,“ you're looking ahead while walking, „yet we walk in silence.“ You try to slice the silence, the tension and thoughts of how he smells and how warm his touch would feel filling your mind, so you try to make conversation.

He nods and chuckles softly as you make this observation, „The truth is… it's just that I am enjoying being so close to you that I'd rather keep walking like this for a bit… I just…“ he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, „I just want to feel you next to me without having to speak a word. And to also be honest…“ His voice turned to a whisper. „…I'm feeling a bit tempted. The quiet and the... silence of the night making everything feel so much more sensual, I'm having a hard time resisting…“

You look up at him, hoping your cheeks aren't shaded pink, „Resisting?“

He is fast to answer, „Resisting the temptation… I want to kiss you again… I want to feel that warmth again. Your perfume is driving me insane… I just want to get lost inside of you with every kiss… with every touch…“

Veritas' words leave you in shock, he is completely frank, and blunt. Your thoughts scatter at his eagerness. You offer a small reaction. „Oh…“

He chuckles silently to himself at your surprised reaction, he is getting slightly out of hand, out of his usual stoic self, leaning closer while walking to say, „I mean, we could stop here and just enjoy these feelings with each other. No words are needed. I believe the quietness and the silence have just really been making everything feel so much more… as I already said, sensual. So I ask you, dearest, would you like to continue walking together as we are, or would you like to let these feelings finally get the best of us, and just… kiss?“

You stop walking and look up at him. You smirk, „You don't have a lot of self-control with indulgence now, do you?“ You tilt your head when you say these teasing words. Then almost like karma, an artificial draft blows past you two, his cologne filling his senses, making you close your eyes while it returns you the what happened earlier that day before you open your eyes again.

Veritas' eyes light up when you point out the lack of self-control but he can't help but chuckle softly. „You don't know half of it. It has been eating at me today, seems like a dam of suppressed… thoughts burst through. And they seem to be getting better of me the more and more we stand like this. I do apologize for my eagerness, it is improper… Would you really like to know just how hard it has been to hold back from simply kissing you?“ He adds the last sentence as if he is saying a secret, whispering it softly.

You smirk, „Oh, do tell me~“ Barely hiding the way his cologne almost had you swept off of your feet. Of course, he sees your reaction, just how much of an effect he seems to be having on you right now. You can feel your body just wanting to sway towards his, wanting to feel his touch, his warmth.

„Oh, where should I begin“, he does his analysis as a doctor, „My breathing has been feeling… hot and heavy… it's almost as if my heart rate has been rising faster than normal, or perhaps the fact I want to embrace you with every fiber of my being right now. But don't make me start listing the symptoms.“ He ends with a smile, to which you smile back. You'd never normally do that, you wonder what is it about this late at night?...

„Well, a mere hug is innocent enough, Veritas“ You smirk, teasingly and continue walking now. He laughs at your words before speaking, „Indeed it is. But the problem I find with this so-called 'innocent hug' is that it would inevitably lead us into the unavoidable action of you and I embracing tighter and tighter until a point where our hands may wonder and- let me not ramble, but“, he whispers into your ear, „A hug is just the beginning. Would you still like such an 'innocent' act of a hug?“

He is right, and you know he is. You try hard to not imagine it as he speaks, struggling to hold the thoughts back, to try to ease the tension you tease. “Overthinking~” You shoot him down and walk, avoiding anything upfront and making it obvious to the clever man as to why. You know he is as desperate as you to touch each other, feel, hold hands… And confused by it.

“My dear friend”, the nickname icks you the wrong way, but you ignore it, “I have quite the knack for figuring things out. And I can easily see that you want to hold me and embrace me too, but you seem to want to tease and want to be teased. Would you like to tease you a little bit?” He smirks, reading you like a book and recognizing the weak spots he can aim at.

“Oh, Veritas please don’t tease me, I don’t take it well. And, also, I assume then the innocent hug would be a bad idea.” You answer honestly rather than putting up a strong front that would crumble in mere seconds.

He is amused at your sudden concern about being teased and has an amusing tone of voice, “Alright, alright then. I promise to not tease you… well… not too much. Yes… no hug for us. It would lead us to do more… well, it would lead us down a very… not so innocent path.”

You two continue walking at a rather slower pace, you get the feeling of just how close the two of you are getting, bodies moving almost in sort of a sync, every little sway that one of you makes is seemingly replicated by the other. It is as if all other movements have faded away, except for the two of you walking together silently in the darkness.

Your fingers brush each other making you sigh. The touch of your fingertips is felt through the fabric of clothes. You become aware of each other's breathing in this silence. It all drives you insane, why do you want to hold his hand so badly… it makes you sigh again. It appears your fingers brushing has the same effect on him, your hands gravitationally shifting towards each other, as if trying to come in contact with each other, you can barely resist and you can tell Veritas is struggling not to just take your hand in his. More bumping, the desire to hold hands feeling like a natural response at this point, yet you don’t. “Veritas…” You quietly sigh.

The sound of your sigh sends shivers down his spine, turning his head to look at you, and his face is readable like a children’s playbook right now. His desires are, the same as yours. Maybe you’re both too prideful and too scared, to be honest with each other.

“We are almost where I live.” You gesture with your head, telling him the walk will end soon. You now brush your hand against his on purpose, the feeling of getting burned makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow then…”

He nods and you two stop near your place. His mind wishes for an embrace but you two decided against that, his eyes scanning your body as if wishing he could keep this view of you in his head. “Good night.”

People are much more honest at night time, especially if tired, the walk was something… You sigh when you enter your home, feeling frustrated, the chemistry between you two is insane, but your pride, much like his, is too big. Both without the courage to make the next move. Playing this back-and-forth game, with neither of you being willing to take the leap of being the one to start it. Kissing can be discarded always, but if someone states their feelings… with both of your arrogant personalities and your ‘enemy’ like history… well it isn’t an easy thing. So for now, you both go your separate ways, yet wishing you were in his arms, you and him laying alone in bed.

The thought of him keeps crossing your mind. You are thinking of him as you crawl into bed, feeling the weight and warmth of the blankets surrounding you. As you lay there, you think about how it felt to walk beside him. Imagining how it would feel to sleep beside him, feel his body next to yours. Sleep overcomes you, dreams end up being of him.

The night passes by and another work day begins. As you walk into your workplace you can see Veritas walking to his desk, right across yours. He meets your eyes for a moment, it is obvious that last night left both of you shaken up and still confused… which is an understatement, to be true to the fact, both scared, tension still hanging in the air between you two.

Occasional rumors about the people who saw you kissing feel annoying to you but you divert your attention to work. Both focused on work in your own separate bubbles, time passes by quickly. Yet your mind doesn’t clear up, not with all the hushing and whispering of your co-workers in the background. Everyone seems to be chatting about this supposed ‘romantic attraction’ you have to each other, while you two pretend nothing happened yesterday. You make an effort to not even glance at him, at his indigo hair which just makes you wonder if it would feel as soft with your fingers going through it- no, you stop your thoughts.

Feeling tired from a few hours of work and your mind distracting you with memories and scenarios you get up from your desk, intending to walk outside and get a break, catch some air. Your work building has experiments of installing new weather conditions on the station getting performed on it, so you look forward to the artificial wind on the rooftop.

While you walk away, you hear footsteps, someone had the same intention as you. Following right behind you.

Outside you find a spot without anyone, yet the footsteps follow close behind. You slowly breathe in, and the air feels fresh, the experiment might be successful, but it sure feels real. You turn around to see who followed you to ruin your break and time alone.

When you turn, you find Veritas staring right back at you. You both wanted to get away and walk away from all the noise. His face is neutral, but his eyes are soft while he tries to figure out your mood, and your thoughts. The tension fills the air again, especially since he is the one person who wouldn't help with all the thoughts you had of him.

„Morning“, you say simply, standing a few steps away.

„Good morning to you too.“ He nods, tilting his head slightly, „Did you also want to get a break or some… space from everything?“

„Needed a break, yeah.“ You nod back.

Attempting to turn the conversation about work his tone sounds formal, „The work can be exhausting, stressful… especially when people keep… gossiping“, he gives you a knowing look, „and everything.“

„Sleep well?“ Your voice is also formal, yet soft, not as loud as it would be if you asked him while inside.

„I'll admit“, he chuckles, „I was having a few interesting dreams last night, but other than that, I slept nicely. How was your rest last night?“ You notice how this isn't something a co-worker or a close colleague would just say to one another. You both were behaving differently, dancing on the line, on the edge of it.

„It was alright.“ You keep it simple, as silence falls again. The silence could be cut with a butter knife when the air feels thick, tension growing as you keep staring at each other. How did years of disliking and rivalry turn into this… tension after the bet and the kiss? Well, more than one kiss, but that's beside the point. Both prideful, so prideful. Like cats, predatory cats, so carefully circle their prey, but not sure if the prey is poisonous yet. Both are in the same boat, feeling the same way.

You sigh, „Veritas, I'm-„, you exhale „frustrated, but… prideful. Like you.“ His gaze was still on you when you spoke, his eyebrows raising at your words. Both struggle to get any words out regarding the matter, yet the electricity between you two is too strong, too powerful. You feel a pull towards him, and you look away.

Veritas stares at you for another few moments, before looking down to clear his mind.

„You're awfully quiet“ You complain and move away a few steps.

At this point, he also struggles to contain it anymore. His chest filled with a strange feeling of some sort of anxiety at wanting to say something yet holding himself behind. Even as you walk away from him, he calls your name, making you turn around. „Wait-„ He looks almost vulnerable, yet it could be the experiment's artificial sun making you imagine things. You make a few steps closer, raising your chin, „Yes?“

„I wish to ask you something“ He speaks softly.

„Ask.“ You look at him, a strong wind blows and you both move closer to the wall of the building, the entrance to the rooftop area, now a step or two apart.

Standing closer you can almost feel the heat of his body, it makes you tremble for a second – or is it just your imagination playing with you? He leans closer, and you also feel the desire to lean in close to him as well. He is about to say something when rain starts falling heavily and you both move under the entrance's rooftop, your bodies close to each other. So close, so close… your face a breath away. He exhales shakingly. You make an observation, a wrong one, „Why are you nervous?“

He chuckles a little bit, „Quite the opposite actually. Just finding the words for the question.“

You deadpan, „Ask then.“

The wind blows stronger moving the direction of the rain falling and you two move even closer together. The proximity makes your mind hazy, struggling to find words. Upon moving closer and the sudden temperature drop you feel the heat between your bodies, the strong wind now blowing the rain right over you. The feeling of electricity makes you both lean in closer while your hair and clothes get damp from the rain. The rain cooling you down, your breaths mingling and you curse under your breath.

Almost like you could read his mind you find the words for the very thing on his mind, „Why are we like this?“

“I… we’ve been like this ever since… well we’ve been like this for years. I feel so drawn to you…”

You tsk at his words and look away, your voice full of complaints, “I can’t get you off of my mind since the bet, your… cologne, and your- our kissing… Why the hell do you smell so good?” You furrow your brows.

He chuckles when he hears talk about the bet, making his cheeks blush a soft pink, and laughs a bit when you mention his scent.

You sigh, continuing your complaining, “And it doesn’t help that you’re so goddamn attractive and the fact that despite our hatred we know each other pretty damn well, so all this… tension…” Your words make the man chuckle warmly. He nods, agreeing that you are very familiar with one another, also feeling attracted to you. Veritas looks at you curiously.

Even after the intimate moment in the hallway yesterday you both still hesitate. You sigh, thinking of more things to complain about while he smirks at you and remains quiet.

He wonders, maybe it was more than a bet, maybe an excuse to actually get close to him, he will ask you more about it in the future. You both hesitate now, staying quiet with something just on the tip of your tongue.

You narrow your eyes, “You’re surprisingly quiet for a man who always had something to say about me.” To which he chuckles, very much aware of how right you are. He always had something to pick on about you. But now, he can’t help but smile at you silently. You curse at him softly, “Cat got your tongue?” He laughs even more, the proximity making him speechless, he looks down shaking his head slightly in amusement while you shake your head and look behind him. The tension fills up, cold rain hitting you, the desire to kiss rising. You both turn to face each other and your lips brush accidentally, just barely. You can feel your own heart beating faster when you slow your movements, almost like freezing upon the soft brush. It all feels overwhelming as you both fight the desire to kiss. You sigh and look down.

While you’re focused on resisting your urges, he moves closer. The two of you are breathing heavily, you can feel his breath against your lips, the heat of his body. You observe the way he drifts closer, but his hands remain at his sides. So proud, so hesitant.

You look at each other, the final drop about the overflow everything, you want to reach out, and his hands are formed in fists to hold back his wish to touch you.

You curse and meet his gaze, “I can’t- I… I am not a patient person, Veritas” You say sternly before meeting his lips. This time it feels as if the tension of years that passed is getting released. You both press up against each other, the heat rising. The kiss feels like it will be a longer one, your hunger to kiss him only growing while the rain pours down your back. Your hands move up his chest, over his soaked shirt, feeling the muscles of his torso, one hand moving to his damp hair pulling him closer even.

He turns pushing you gently against the wall, pressing his body into yours almost offering protection from the rain and the wind, unhelpful, you both keep getting watered down like dried plants. Not that you two would notice it that much at this point. The rain is pouring down on you, washing away your worries. You breathe in, his scent swimming around the air, making your mind foggy, both desiring to be even closer to each other. His hand stays a moment on your hips before moving to your back, pushing you into him, the proximity between you two nonexistent.

You pull away, creating a tiny distance between your lips, mumbling, “Sorry”.

He shakes his head softly, but his eyes are on your lips, they’re wet from the rain, like his. He breathes heavily, attempting to catch his breath. You look at each other, the loud rain falling the only sound.

Feeling like your actions spoke louder than words you don’t say anything more than that. He notices, chuckles, and speaks, “I know our… history. I may have never admitted myself but I always found you so… insanely clever, strategic… hot- and all of our good and bad conversations, moments when we behaved as friends- and moments when we were behaving as enemies… I- I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it- that, there might be something below the surface.”

And he was right, you two from yesterday played this back and forth, of talking and making out to prove points, and stating your confused feelings and thoughts, yet still held back. It is difficult, the fear that he might turn around and smirk, mock you for believing his actions, saying it was an experiment or something. It is very obvious that he is experiencing the same fear. Your walls are up high, and so are his. The never-ending pride, arrogance, strategy- move planning, what is the other person thinking… Is this another of his tricks… are you playing a trick on him? Too many years of lending a helping hand, or giving a snarky comment as a bully would. Of course, you would both be on edge, on the edge of control to not jump each other's bones, on the edge of misbelief, on the edge of calling him a liar. Because would you even dare imagine such a thing? You and him… him and you… It sounds good, feels right and feels wrong, feels strange, and feels like it was always meant to be- yet it doesn’t. So you both stand tall, defensive, and wishing for the other's attention. Hoping to recognize the truth and escape the lies.

He whispers, “This rivalry seems like it was an excuse to stay close, which at this moment-“, he smirks, leaning closer, “I don’t mind at all, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head, whispering back, “I don’t know anything anymore”

It is painfully attractive the way he leans above you, his nose next to yours droplets of water dripping down it and falling to your lips. It feels intimate, that one droplet… you lick it off of your lips, and his eyes are glued to the action, inhaling slowly. He gathers himself and whispers, “May I propose a goal? A tool of discovery? A new goal, to sway off of rivalry, a goal of keeping ourselves united and closer than ever, and of helping each other become the best we can be and be the best we want to be for each other?”

You smirk, easily reading between the lines, “Are you asking me to date you?”

Veritas chuckles under his breath, every word spoken softly, no need for any loud or even normal volume, “Yes… yes, I am… it may be ridiculous, but I just… can’t deny the strength of…”, he makes a small break, finding himself at a loss of proper words, “us.” He looks up, “Imagine it… how brilliant we are together. Yes, I could ramble on about a ‘power couple’ of sorts and intellect and how smart we are, but I just want you. I don’t care about that, I love your genius, and the way you work and behave- it is extremely attractive I might add.” He smiles, and continues, “In this moment, I just want you, I want to keep you close, stay close to you, I want to see us and where we would go, would we work…”

You fidget with his fingers, thinking it all over, the cold water cooling you down and the passionate kiss you had moments ago moving away from your mind. Going out, to get to know each other isn’t a bad idea… but you know so much, years of him, years of Doctor Veritas Ratio and his habits. If anything you already know his flaws, as well as his virtues. This leaves only one option you’d do, “I may find myself agreeing to a new goal, Veritas Ratio.” He smiles at your words, but you still feel uneasy- like this is a dream you will wake up from and you are again being snarky to each other, the thoughts don’t help so you say more to yourself than to him as he says, “Thank you-“, interrupting him, “Oh, hush now” and crashing your lips on his again, to drown the thoughts.

This time the kiss feels slower in a way, deeper, passionate. He cups your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. It is almost sensual, the desire still clings onto you two, below the surface, an eternal dance between attraction and emotions, fast making out and slow meaningful touches.

You dare to take your hand in his, he swiftly gives you a small squeeze, and slowly separates your lips, with your bodies still pressed against each other.

Looking at him it feels strange to think he is taken, moreover that he is taken by you. He is yours… well, and you are his. He leans in kissing you softly once more, and you feel both of your desires rising again- “Veritas”, you mumble against his lips. He clings onto you even more, truly lacking the mentioned self-control in moments like these, you catch your breath, separating from the kiss, completely soaked with rain now. “Just because we are at the top of the food chain doesn’t mean we should abuse our power and take too long breaks.” You say in a normal voice, it is very much so unlike either of you to behave such a way, and he probably got carried away.

He laughs softly, nodding to your words. Pulling slightly away to give you some space, the wet clothes making you stick together makes both of you laugh, and he gently tugs his shirt away.

A couple of moments of silence pass, his hand caressing your cheek, gazing into your eyes, not trying to read you like he usually is, it looks like he is almost… adoring you.

Soon enough you two return to work. When asked about why you’re soaking wet- you call out the weather experimenting on the roof, to which people nod in understanding or the reckless ones dare laugh.

Later that day, again you two are the last to leave, and you walk, again, just like the night before. The night is quiet, there’s a cool draft when you exit the building, you both walk in silence, there are not a lot of words to say, and there are too many. At least you’re now together, each other’s. Your hands bump into one another.

You sigh, not wanting yesterday’s walk to repeat, and take his hand in yours, making him smile. It may all be complicated and confusing, but this feels right. You will take it slowly, this… everything. His thumb caresses your knuckles and you two walk with more ease, bumping less into each other.

When you reach your home you both stop, “Good night, Veritas” You say softly, releasing his hand, your mind does wonder how his body would feel warming up yours, would he hold you tight, would he snore… You chuckle at your thoughts. Similarly, to you, he wonders how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you tightly, your bodies pressed against each other the entire night. You keep staring at each other- “You won’t say good night back?” You tilt your head, teasing, knowing he is thinking about something.

He laughs gingerly, raising an eyebrow and shrugging, “I wasn’t quite sure if you finished saying your goodbye yet, since you were… hmm… staring at me” He smiles brightly, happy with how he phrased it. “But yes, good night. It was nice walking with you. I shall see you tomorrow.” He reaches for your hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it while making eye contact, you step closer and kiss his cheek, whispering, “Sweet dreams, Veritas”.

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