You’re an assassin who has been traveling through the cosmos for ages now, living in the shadows and learning how to conceal your tracks.
You thought you are good at your job, and you are. Killing your targets under the cover of night and without any traces left.
You thought you are a genius until you met him.
Veritas Ratio. He is the first ever person to catch you red-handed and the first thing that crosses your mind is “that’s it. He’ll turn me in.”
Alas, to your surprise, he does no such thing. Ratio’s will to teach and guide outweighs his pity for those corrupt scoundrels on your hit list by far.
Thus, he spends the next years teaching you how to assassinate without guns or knifes, but rather the mastery use of the chaos theory — the butterfly effect, to get the job done for you and make your life so much easier.
Warnings: professor!ratio, student!reader, age gap, dom/sub dynamics, dubious consent, blow jobs, pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, degradation kink, doggy style, missionary, vaginal sex, sir kink, cervix fucking, and creampie
A/N: Is this basically literary porn (especially with a title like this)? Yes. Yes, it is. I do not regret anything. Lmao, I put a LOT of effort into this (more than I thought I would)
Also, maybe consider signing up for the 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦!!
Your philosophy professor is among the most conceited and arrogant people you have ever met. Whenever he gives a lecture, he refuses to slow down when asked and expects everyone in the class to understand what he has just taught. He’s an impossible teacher. At first, you were excited to take his class because it’s hard to get into (since you need special permission to attend). Not to mention his striking good looks, which at first captivated everyone. However, his personality did not make up for his good looks.
Your grade isn’t good, and you need a way to improve it. Dr. Ratio didn’t give any extra credit opportunities, but maybe if you meet with him, he’ll change his mind.
Please wait until after one class to speak with him. Usually, you would email him, but he’s not the most reliable with that, meaning cornering is the only practical way.
As everyone files out of the lecture hall, you walk over to him. His deep eyes look over the notes he showed earlier as he huffs a bit. His long fingers grip the thin paper as if he’s handling a soft feather. You’re starting to rethink your decision, but by then, Dr. Ratio had noticed you staring at him.
“Miss Y/N?” he asks. You look at his face, and his eyes watch your face change to one of embarrassment and insecurity. “Is there something you need?”
“Uh, I…wanted to ask…” Your nerves make it difficult for you to speak up. His expression shows boredom. His eyes tell you that time is precious. You take a breath, trying to gain some confidence. “I wanted to ask if we could meet to discuss some things.” Your voice was faulty, but you made your point. Dr. Ratio gives you a small smile.
“Is that right?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say more confidently. “I’m willing to meet at any point whenever we both have the time.”
“I see,” he says and leans back away from you. He thinks for a bit before saying something. “How about now?”
“Huh?” You’re shocked by his presumptuousness.
“I have nothing more today, so we can talk in my office now. If you’re free, I’d hate for you to miss your other classes,” he says. His eyes burned bright under his shaggy blue hair.
“I’m free now,” you reply almost meekly.
“Perfect. Why don’t we head to my office then?” he suggests. You nod and become flustered while walking behind him, following him. You didn’t expect him to agree just like that, not to mention you’re going to be alone with him in his office. He leads you up to his office and opens it to reveal a quaint little space. There are two bookshelves on the back wall, across from the door; a desk with two chairs that lean against the window; and a small sofa on the other side of the room, across from the windows. He uses his hand to gesture inside, which you do. You hug your bookbag and sit softly on the chair facing the windows. Dr. Ratio closes the door before sitting across from you at his desk.
“So, what would you like to discuss?” he asks, his hands clasped together on the desk.
“Well,” you start. “I wanted to ask if I can get some extra–” he cuts you off.
“I don’t give extra credit. I said that on the first day,” he says matter-of-factly.
“I-I know, but I really want to get my grade up and pass with a decent grade,” you plead. “I don’t want my GPA to drag down.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but–” you cut him off this time.
“Please, I’ll do anything. I really need to pass this class,” you plead still. He chuckles.
“You really should not use the phrase ‘I’ll do anything,’” he tells you. “It might give someone the wrong impression.” Your face grows hot when you realize the implications he’s talking about. You think about it briefly, concluding that no way would even work.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things…” You trail off, making the awkward silence even worse. You look down at the desk, contemplating how to drop his class without making it affect your transcript. Dr. Ratio eyes you for a bit; your innocence intrigues him. Your presumptuousness not only caught him off guard initially (in a good way), but now your lack of conversational expertise in his presence is amusing in its own way. He laughs again.
“How about this…” he gets up from his desk and walks closer to you. He stands right beside you before continuing. “You can try with everything you have to try and really convince why you deserve a higher grade, hmm?” Your eyes widen largely at his proposal. “And I mean everything.”
“I…” you can’t hear the shakiness of your words.
“Of course, you don’t have to, but who’s to say you’ll get a better grade?” he says, half joking. Everything up til now has seemed to be happening so fast. However, you do need this grade desperately. You look up at him, and his frame seems much taller now that he’s so close. Your embarrassment and cute demeanor really are quite something.
“What do you want me to do?” you ask. His gold eyes stare down at you, the cogs in his mind turning to figure out what he would like you to do first. After some deliberation, he figures it out.
“Why don’t you use that cute mouth of yours?” he asks. You look up at him with surprise.
“Al-Alright,” you agree, put aside your bag, and slowly slide off the chair onto the floor. You make eye contact with him again, and he gestures to you with his chin for you to do what to prepare. “Professor?” you ask meekly.
“Yes?” he replies.
“Shouldn’t we lock the door?” you ask.
“Smart idea, Miss Y/N,” he compliments, making you grow warm. He swiftly moves to the door and turns the latch on the lock. He notices your reaction to his compliment. “Oh? Like being praised?” Even warmer now. “How cute.”
He returns to you, and the tent in his pants makes you a bit nervous, but you are not turning back now. You take his belt off and unzip his dark blue pants, revealing his boxers. You cup his bulge and prepare yourself. Your professor lets out a husky breath when he feels your hand touch him. You move his cock out from his boxers and let his clothing fall to the floor. His cock leaks tiny beads of precum, and you lick your lips. You shift in your position, your thighs clenching. You look up at him as you begin to lick the tip. His gold eyes look down at you, his dark hair almost covering his eyes.
You swirl the tip with your tongue and watch his face grow red and his eyes close.
“Don’t tease me,” he mutters. “You’ve got to earn that good grade.” You hum in response, and the vibration of your mouth makes your professor shudder a bit. You open your mouth more and take his cock farther into your mouth. Your eyes prickle with tears as his cock reaches deep into your throat. You motion back, and his tip is at your tongue again, causing you to tease the tip again. You use your hand to jerk him off while your tongue is preoccupied. Your professor smiles darkly and clicks his tongue.
“You’re not going fast enough, darling,” he tells you. The pet name makes you wince. “Don’t make me fuck your mouth myself. I won’t be as gentle.” With his words, you find a new confidence and once again lower your mouth so his cock goes deeper. “That’s a good girl.” You moan at his words again and use your hand and mouth to begin a rhythm of going up and down his cock. His husk is breathing, and low moans are urging you on. The sound of his cock reaching your throat makes your head spin. You can’t help the moans that are coming from you.
“Jesus, fuck,” your professor curses. “Talented, aren’t you?” His head tilts back, and his hand grips the edge of his desk. You don’t stop your motions even when your spit begins to leak from your mouth and onto the floor. His cock begins to twitch within your mouth, and you know he’s about to cum. He grabs your chin and stops your mouth. He motions for you to open your mouth while you spit strings along his wet cock. Your hand pumps his shaft as he shoots his load into your eager mouth. His smile is dark as he inspects his cum in your mouth. “Swallow it,” he commands. You do so without any more prompting. Your throat stings while your seating position makes your thighs burn.
You catch your breath as you stand up. Your professor clicks his tongue again.
“You’re not done, you know,” he says. “I intend to take you in more ways than just one.” You didn’t expect him to say that. “Turn around and lean against the desk.”
You do as he says and lean your palms against the cold desk with your plush butt out for him. He fondles you before grabbing your shorts and panties and swiftly pulling them down.
“You take direction so easily, don’t you?” he asks from behind you, his words beside your ear. “Maybe you’re dirtier than I initially thought.” He moves his hand to the front of your body, traveling down to your exposed pussy. He rubs two fingers over your pussy lips, finding it dripping with wetness. He kisses your neck and holds your hip with his other hand, and thrusts his cock into you. You knock slightly forward from the shock, but your professor’s strong arms hold you steady. “My darling little slut.”
You moan, feeling his cock inside you and his hand on your clit.
“Pro-Professor,” you moan.
“Call me Veritas,” he whispers.
“Veritas,” you repeat. Hearing his name fall from your lips is almost like the perfect aria.
“That’s a good slut,” he says, and the combination of words makes you quiver. He moves his cock out of you and slams back into you with his waist clapping against your ass. You whimper at the feeling. Veritas wanted to get you used to his cock, but he wanted to fuck you so badly and make you his. He grips you tightly and begins his fast assault of thrusts. You cry out, feeling his cock going in and out of you at such a rapid pace. The sound of his snaps snapping into you becomes louder with every thrust.
As you moan loudly, Veritas curses behind you.
“Fuck,” he says. “You’re so hot and tight, shit.” He can’t help the moans that slip from his mouth either. “You feel so fucking good.” His fingers begin to circle your clit, almost to a similar rhythm to his thrusts.
“Ah! Ve-Veritas,” you moan. Your thighs start to spread to give his cock and hand more access to you. You seem to love his cock as much as he loves your pussy.
“Feels good?” he asks, amused.
“Mm! Fuck, yes!” you cry. He circles your clit faster, expert fingers playing the bundle of nerves easily as if he’s playing an instrument he’s all too familiar with.
“Want to cum, darling?” he asks. His thrusts shift, and he can hit a spot within you that weakens your knees.
“Ye-Yes! Please! Please let me cum!” you beg. His chuckle feathered your neck.
“Then cum all over my cock,” he tells you. His fingers pinch your clit, and your elbows shake. You quickly cum all around his cock, coating it sweetly. You loosen from his grip and fall to the desk under you. Your heart is beating a mile a minute with heavy breaths, and your pussy is still gushing your orgasm. Veritas admires your fucked out self. You shift your body so your back presses against the desk and see your professor’s expression. He is obsessed with how he made you feel and how you made him feel. You notice his hand is gripping his still-hard cock that is covered in your essence. His hair stuck to his forehead, giving him a glow. You want him even more.
You grab your top and force it off yourself. He watches you remove your clothing, eyeing you like his prey. You remove your bra just as fast, and he loves how willing you are. He leans down and kisses you for the first time. His fingers find your nipples and rub them, making you moan into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and begins to kiss your neck and shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling on his button-down shirt.
“Dirty, dirty girl,” he whispers. His cock slowly pushes into you like before. Your pussy quivers at the feeling of cock pushing through its overstimulated walls. He kisses you as he moves his cock to pick up a rhythm for you both. His kisses are wet and needy as his tongue explores your mouth with precision. You hum and moan as you feel Veritas reach deep into your pussy. His hands continue to grope your chest and pinch your nipples. He’s so good at everything. One of your hands finds his blue locks and clutches them desperately. You feel your body heat up from everything. He breaks the kiss once again as he moans in your ear.
“Ah, shit, your pussy’s so hot,” he says. “Fucking Christ.” You hug your legs around his waist, keeping him close.
“It’s all for you, sir,” you say between broken moans.
Oh. Sir? That changes everything.
“Call me that again,” he commands, and his thrusts cease immediately.
“S-Sir,” you mutter. He kisses you again. His hips move back up again, and every thrust kisses your cervix, knocking you back. The sound of your hips meeting and the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked fill your ears. More than your or Veritas’ moans. His pace becomes erratic, and his cock begins to twitch within you. His hands grip your body tighter as he chases his orgasm. He bucks his hips deep into you once more and cums hard inside you. His low moan resonates despite his mouth being preoccupied.
You both pull apart from the kiss to bask in each other’s afterglow. Both are looking into each other’s eyes. Still hardly believing what just transpired truly transpired.
After a few minutes, your professor pulls his cock out of your pussy, making you both wince from the loss. His cum drips and drools out of you when his cock is entirely out of you. He caresses your thighs and hips.
“Did I do well?” you ask. He chuckles before answering.
“Most certainly,” he replies. “Though if I’m being honest, I think a few more private sessions like this would benefit your grade highly.” You giggle.
This fic gets like barely the same amount of attention as my others (which I need to work on anyhow) but I lowkey just want to finish it and see where it ends atp.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5
Scenario: A very poor attempt to rizz up Ratio (tw for gun violence in this one btw)
Learning more and more about the inner life of Veritas had you feeling...rather small.
It was your own fault – locking yourself away in a room and writing some ‘grand’ novel did nothing for your social life. Every party and every club had been avoided with careful precision, given that in your own head, it never felt as if it would do much for you.
Sure, go talk to people who you didn’t know and who didn’t care to know you. Tell them your major and then listen as they tried to brag about their internship at the IPC or their research project that was going to do some random scientific bullshit. You didn’t even have the chance to share your stories or accomplishments; the moment you had brought up the arts, you were nothing to them.
Or worse, they were also in the arts. The snobbiest bastards in the entire university in your experience – it made you hope that they would suffer a brutal unemployment, as nasty as that thought was.
It was usually bullshit anyway. Those internships were nothing more than paper pushing and the ‘research’ they did usually added up to nothing. And the “poetry” they wrote was as deep as a puddle. But of course, you could never say that to their faces.
Veritas had been the exception.
While you only knew whatever he told you, it was obvious that he was actually capable of things he said he was. He wasn’t just a guy using words – deep into his heart, you knew that he was a nerd who was more than honest.
Sometimes he was a little too honest.
He seemed to know just about everyone; for one thing, he knew more than one stoneheart at the IPC. He also knew just about every single professor at the university, which really did add to his celebrity status. Even the dean liked him.
Although at the very least, he was kind of a bitch, so it made being around him more comfortable than you usually would be. There was a flaw he could find with nearly everyone – typically it was along the lines of calling them a moron.
And yet, he had yet to say anything straight to your face. From the one friend you could tell he had (or perhaps two, since Topaz seemed to know him quite well), he never had a problem throwing an insult while he was in the room.
He didn’t seem the type to say things behind people’s backs. So the fact he had yet to say anything to you was...interesting.
There was a chance that your only flaw to him was what he had found in your writing. Which made you want to jump off of a bridge if true – you liked to think that your writing was your best quality. It had been the one thing to get you through life; like the claws of a crab, it was your most honed weapon.
But if he had nothing else to critique on you, then there was a chance that he just didn’t care.
Dear the aeons you hoped that wasn’t true. That would make him seeing your bare ass even more weird. Yes you were not over that – there was a chance you never would be.
It made you dread seeing him in person again. Slightly.
Or maybe it was because you were being forced to socialize. Or because whatever party Aventurine had dragged you into attending was far more than you expected.
Veritas Prime was known as one of the greatest universities in the universe, and by god did some of the buildings show it. Some, not all, because in many of your classes you had more than a few complaints about the facilities. Moldy walls, broken ceilings… the list could go on.
But the ballroom was fully IPC-funded; some grant that was given some amber eras ago. It was a pinnacle of beauty, made by some of the best artists of that time.
Despite having been invited to these types of events before, you never really had bothered to attend. Which was your fault, given that self-isolation hadn’t done much for you so far.
Now you felt like a freshman marveling at the place – it was more like a feast for the eyes than just candy.
“Here’s the invite. You probably won’t need it, but just in case, ya’ know?”
Speaking of a feast, the guests here were certainly a feast for the eyes. While Topaz helped you look presentable, you were sure you looked nothing like her. She looked like she belonged amongst the social elite, already finding a woman she had to be friends with. They were talking like they were even forgetting about your presence. At most, they waved to you, their bobs swaying in sync.
You weren’t brought here to tag along behind her anyhow, but navigating the space had you feeling dizzy. There was just so much going on – there were several exhibits of all kinds, a crowd of what must’ve been half of the galaxy, and things that you had only seen in movies.
Plates of exotic foods and drinks were being waved around on golden trays. Some you could recognize – the expensive wines you would see in the grocery store, and the classic rich people food you would see on TV.
The event moved you around as if you were caught in ocean waves – you could see groups forming and people floating in between them, and the paths that were cleared were constantly shifting and changing as people found others to talk too.
From what you could pick up from the conversations, most of it was just bragging and selling.
Students subtly begging to work with scientists and companies, companies trying to sell some bullshit product or another to some other company, and the occasional conversation that was far too personal to be had in public.
They all spoke in bushiness speak, which had you feeling as if you were trying to translate a foreign language. If you hated the classmates of yours who spoke like that, then this was even worse. Your synethesia beacon was no help here, as you forced to listen to words that meant nothing.
What the hell was an assistant marketing data analyst anyway? Those were just words. There was no way that they actually meant anything.
You forced yourself to find ground. There was a spot by some popup art gallery – statues and sculptures, lying down a hallway where the crowd had started to thin out. Accidentally brushing your elbows against a few too many suits and dresses, you managed to find refuge there. The assistant marketing data analyst’s couldn’t attack you there – their stares and sneers were far too away from you now to affect you.
Right behind a statue of some mythical bird, you found a spot to breathe. There were still people passing by, but they had given you enough space to relax in your own personal bubble.
The smell of alcohol, strong cologne and sweat had finally left. Despite the event’s rich clientele, they were no different than a backyard punk concert. The smell and selfish attitude was rather similar, despite the drastic difference in language and dress.
With how bad it had been in only a few minutes, you were starting to convince yourself to just leave. Save yourself the social agony while the night was still young, right? There was even a convenient exit at the end of this hallway, less crowded and leaving you less likely to be seen by Veritas.
“I didn’t know you would be here.”
From a rather polite distance away from you, there was a familiar figure. Robin was wearing a dress just as fancy as the rest of the party, the difference was how it was trademarked with the usual colors and style the family would wear.
Pastel blues and purples were covering her, matching her hair and skin in a complimentary way. She was beautiful, as she always was. It made you want to eat glass tonight though, as you were sure that your makeup had already started to melt and flake off of your face. The mascara on your lashes was practically blinding you.
Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you felt as if you smelt like sweat and mold. You had put on whatever perfume you had gotten from the dollar store, but the smell of clean laundry and vanilla had faded quickly, instead leaving your skin smelling like dirty chemicals to your nose. The nervousness from the already large crowd hadn’t helped your case, making you sweat when you had only just got here.
“I’m just a plus one. It’s kinda last minute.” You kept your arms close to your side.
The ballroom was both too hot and now too cold, which left you feeling like a dirty pig wandering around in a show pony barn. In your mind, it was obvious that you did not belong here.
“Shouldn’t you be prepping for your performance?
Perhaps Robin was giving you space because she could smell you too. Or maybe you were dumb and overthought too much.
How the hell were you going to talk to Veritas when you were already such a mess? There was no way you were ever going to impress him in such a state. The fact you cared so much when this was such a stupid idea had you scowling at yourself.
“I would like to view the art as well. There’s much to learn.”
Gently, Robin took your hand. Hers were gloved and fit your hand perfectly between hers – it was a soft and warm embrace, tugging you to follow her along as she gazed at the statues. She had the beautiful dainty hands that reminded you that the writing callus on your knuckle and the small scabs that littered your hands stuck out more next to hers.
Obediently, you followed. It brought you away from the crowd and Robin was too much of a comforting presence to simply let go of. With the amount of time she was always studying, singing and working, this was a nice reprieve from your usual habit of being a socially inept loser hiding in your apartment.
She led you along, bringing you to a large statue, one that had been hidden behind the busts of famous dead men and the framed artworks that were obviously made by students. Most of them didn’t stick out – despite being an elite university, it was obvious that some of the work was only accepted because of connections or because they pandered.
Art pieces that didn’t really make one think of anything profound, in your own opinion.
However, as you walked through the gallery, one stuck out to you. A marble statue of two lovers – a man kneeling before a woman, his hands cradling the back her calves. It was rather intimate, with the both of them nearly in the nude and with a vulnerable facial expression carved onto the man’s face. His face was nearly pleading, something twisted into desperation, despite the way his hands barely graced along her skin.
The woman was facing away from him, staring somewhere off in the distance as her hands laid on the rock behind her. There was a book lying across her lap, face down as it nearly threatened to slide off and hit the man’s head. She did not appear to have that same pleading expression on her face, but mere indifference as she ignored the man at her knees.
And strangely enough, you found that there was an uncanny resemblance to both you and Veritas. Creepily so, actually.
While you found that you couldn’t relate to all of it – your body was not as...voluptuous, as the statue – but there was something about the face that seemed similar to your own. It was styled the same way to yours, the kind that you couldn’t replicate; the way your smile would look different during a candid than compared to a selfie.
The man looked exactly like Veritas, so there certainly was no doubt about that one. Down to the strong nose and happy trail, you couldn’t deny that the resemblance was truly uncanny.
“I wasn’t aware that Veritas would be showing his sculptures here.” Looking down at the artists name and sure enough, his name was plastered right there on a little placard.
While you had figured that they were lovers, the statue was simply titled “Longing” – no description, no artist statement. Just a simple title and an artwork to dissect.
One that featured you, for some reason. Or at least was crazily, coincidentally, just like you.
“We had an artist drop out. He was kind enough to allow us to use his works for this exhibition.” Robin filled in the information for you, noticing your interest with a keen eye.
You forgot. He and Sunday took a sculpture class together.
While there hadn’t been much evidence of it when you had been inside of his apartment, you could see that it would be a hobby of his. Although you didn’t expect that he would sculpt people – maybe a rubber duck or some sort of machine that he planned on building soon.
This seemed like a far more intimate view of human relationships than he had ever portrayed in his writing. At least, his earlier drafts. It was dramatic but also felt natural – the expressions and pose portrayed so much, really defining the word ‘longing’.
“This statue looks like me. It’s kinda uncanny.” There wasn’t a date on the statue, all you knew was that it was created this year. So the resemblance to you was truly bizarre. After all, you’ve only known each other for a few months. There was no way that he had managed to make this within this time, right?
Well, maybe Veritas could. But the fact that it looked like you was just strange.
Robin was literally right there, she made for a much prettier model.
“...you didn’t pose for it?”
“Nope. First time seeing it.” Robin fell silent after that. Your eyes glanced at hers and her face was...well she was certainly twisting it in a strange way. Not a look you would associate with her – she looked awkward, her eyes avoiding your own as her eyebrows twisted themselves into her forehead.
So she found this weird too then, didn’t she.
You put your hand to your chin, now contemplating. Either Veritas used a model that looked like you or stalked you.
While this seemed like good evidence for the latter, one issue was that when you had been inside of his apartment, there did not seem to be evidence of such a thing. No creep shots, no collection of hair or used straws, and well...it also just didn’t seem like him.
No way was Ratio a yandere. He was way too blunt about fucking everything.
But the idea of him staring at a naked woman….that wasn’t you….
You were not a jealous person. Especially over someone you weren’t even with. It was stupid to feel like you ‘owned’ Veritas when you were just friends….
And yet, it had your skin feel cold and your bones boiling. He was a grown man who could do whatever he wanted, it wasn’t like you could tell him what to do. But the feeling was unshakable; It was a deeply uncomfortable feeling.
More so than the thought of Veritas being some long, dedicated stalker.
That thought needed to be shook away. Veritas was not the type and even if he was, what would be so noticeable about you that he would even want to stalk you? The only time you went outside was for your workshops and lectures, and you weren’t pretty enough to get catcalled anyhow.
Which was a good thing, since it meant you could exist without blatant harassment just because of your gender, but in your sick mind you sometimes wanted the validation.
“You’re here as well?”
Aeons, speak of the devil. Aha must be coordinating this, because only they would find such cruel entertainment in a situation like this.
Or because it was horribly cliché. Seriously, these turn of events were becoming as boringly predictable as the bad fanfic people sent in your class workshops. Soon you’d find out that you were a princess and had powers.
You turned around to meet Vertias – he was in the suit you had seen in his closet, with stitched laurels that hugged his shoulders and a striking blue. The shoes he wore were likely the same he had gotten soaked in the rain, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that they had gone through such a thing if you hadn’t seen it first hand.
“I didn’t realize I was so easy to miss.”
The man huffed, shaking his head to wave off your words. He had some sort of product in his hair, as his hair stayed in place – it didn’t frizz up, nor did it turn into the wet curls that you wished he could keep. It made him look like he belonged among the sea of people, albeit in a rather plastic sort of fashion.
Still handsome, still perfect. But it did not look like Veritas. No, he looked closer to his plaster head than the man you had come to known.
“Nothing of the sort. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Aventurine’s dream date setup was…kind of awkward. You found it hard to look Veritas in the eyes, which were boring down onto you, so you instead forced yourself to look at the sculpture. Which had his face, which did little to help how you felt so strange at the moment.
“Sorry I didn’t say anything about it.” In your peripheral vision, you could see Robin walking away. She waved and then was gone – her dress and the feathers of her wings flying behind her with the swiftness of her feet.
The only presence by you at the moment was Veritas’, who was both too close and not enough. You could almost feel the warmth that radiated from his body, but yet it was not close enough to warm your skin, which had started to numb from the building’s strong AC.
And he had yet to say anything else. You could feel his stare – it was boring down on you, and you were scared to see the expression on his face. In your mind, you imagined disappointment. It was that little demon in your head that said: “You’re tolerated at best.”
It even gave the more terrifying thought that his face would be written with disgust. That he would smell your cheap perfume and strange dress and cakey makeup and think of you as no better than a little girl at a boy band concert. Your heels were not tall enough to make you sexy, instead just tall enough to make you put more effort into walking. And your dress seemed like it fit better on anyone else but you.
“You look good in a suit.”
The longer you stared at the sculpture, the more you realized that you could see how it was not entirely smooth – it gave the illusion from afar, but a careful look could see the small edges that existed. Like tiny scars, or the infinite edges of a circle.
“To you as well.”
Veritas had moved closer to you. His voice was right above your ear, close enough that if he leaned down he would be kissing the shell of it.
“Would you like to walk with me?”
Of course, without asking, he had already placed his hand on the small of your back. It was a light touch, the kind that would not fight you if you stepped away. It merely stayed there, waiting for your response.
Stupidly, you turned toward him, taking a look at his face.
Unlike the one he had carved out of stone, his natural face was quite something. It registered as something perfect on first glance, but the more you looked at him, the more things you noticed.
His cheeks had a natural flush to them, a light pink that stood out compared to his clear skin. It at least made him look more human, reminding you that this indeed was your Veritas and not some strange faker. And while his outfit was perfect, there was a small wrinkle in his collar, the corner tucking itself into his neck.
Carefully, you pulled your fingers around it. Slowly, you smoothed it down, tugging a little as you made sure the even both sides with one another so they framed his tie like a crown.
Now he really looked perfect.
“Can you tell me more about your art?”
“What would you like to know?” His hand moved a little, his fingers traveling down to your hip. There was more weight, as he subtly brought you closer to his body. He took a casual step closer, as if readjusting himself.
“You didn’t explain your piece. Just a title.” You could feel how Vertias’ suit jacket was brushing against your bare shoulder, with your body nestled into his armpit again, like the day you were in the rain. As he always was, the man was warm and you were cold. It made you hungry in a way you didn’t really know what to do with.
“It’s...this one I find rather difficult to put into words. I feel that doing so has me sounding like a poet.”
His face was staring at the ceiling, as if reading his own thoughts and trying to make sense of them. His amber eyes were moving – right to left, as if reading sentences that he had to translate into spoken words.
“The good kind or the cringy teenager kind?”
“And do tell me, what makes a good poet?”
When he looked down at your face, there was nothing you had expected to be there – no disgust and no discomfort at having to look at you. The flush was still there, now accented by a small smile that hugged his cheekbones. There was a shine in his eyes, as the golden light of the chandeliers made his eyes appear brighter than usual.
By the aeons, he was unfairly pretty. Nanook must have made him just so he could destroy you.
“Well, I would say a bad poet is the kind that is only words and nothing else,” Once again you were reminded of your classmates, who made you a little glad that they would end up as a starving artist. Even if you would end up there too. “The good kind is the one that makes you feel with the words. Deep meaning, ‘ya know?”
There was a poem that you wished would come to your mind at the moment. It had words that made you truly feel something – imagine a different, more beautiful world. But you were sure that you could not quote the words right and the title had simply escaped you in that moment.
“I’m kind of surprised about this piece. Your writing never really reflects emotions like this.”
You meant it as a joke. Just a lighthearted jab – the two of you had worked on his manuscript for months now. But his face made it clear that he did not take it as one. It had you cringe at yourself, watching as his eyes avoided yours now, instead staring at his work with his brows furrowed.
“Am I truly that incapable of expressing myself?”
“In words? Perhaps,” That might be one of the worst things to say in this situation. It was clear that part of what you said had upset Veritas, but you had no idea what. He was a confident man, particularly in his abilities, so a jab shouldn’t be so upsetting, right? “You can express concepts very well but I feel like you focus too much on being right.”
“What would make you feel then. When it comes to writing?”
“My preferences are trash, don’t take them too seriously,” The dirty fanfiction and novels you had piled in your room spoke for themselves. Literature was fun but it had nothing on some good smut.
Based on the look on his face however, it appeared that he didn’t really like that answer. He analyzed too much, and once again you felt the scrutiny that came with his gaze.
“But I think it’s more about being wrong. You have a strong sense of justice, and I think that clouds you from realizing that people can be wrong and yet still right.”
“...you mean this in a philosophical way, right?” The hand that had once been in his pocket was now on his chin, cradling it as he took his time to think through the words you said. Subtly, his hand squeezed your hip ever so slightly, the tips of his fingers pressing against your hip bone in a mindless way. It seemed that his mind was more focused on the argument he was writing in his head instead of the way he had touched you, making your face redder than it should be.
“One philosopher spoke of how people will understand their beliefs through the lens of what they know and understand about the world. Even if it can be viewed as wrong to most people, it is still correct to that person’s mind.” You spoke quickly, hoping to make your point clearer. If you didn’t speak now, then Veritas might plow through you with whatever argument he had started to cook up in his mind.
“I think I know what essay you’re referring too,” And of course he did. Only Veritas would know the old political essays you referred too off the top of his head. It felt like he was flirting with you when he did that; an attentive man really did make your knees weak. “I don’t mean this in a political sense, just as in… a people way.”
“I understand. I’ve never really thought of his work to be interpreted in such a manner.” His eyes turned back to you, and it felt so good to have them there; Veritas was truly thinking about what you said. You had to hold yourself back from jumping for joy in knowing that you had actually made a good, intelligent point.
It made you feel awkward though. You could feel how your leg nearly stomped involuntarily, while your hands had to make your natural shaking excitement into a more natural motion; instead of acting like a stupid, excited dog, you forced your arms to fold, your fingers tugging at the fabric at your armpits.
“Don’t I make a good philosopher?” Talking to Veritas made you a little too happy. Feeling smart was great but feeling smart next to him was a whole other world.
“...quite.”
The hallway was close enough to hear the noise from the ballroom; it was not as loud as standing in the middle of it, but it was a sort of ambient sound that allowed you both to have a comfortable silence. Both of your feet moved on their own, walking alongside Veritas’ as you simply enjoyed the moment.
People occasionally passed by the two of you, with their steps softened by the carpet. Even women’s heels were made silent, which made the rather intimate closeness the two of you had all the more.
You had walked only a few feet away from the ‘longing’ statue; now you were face to face with a life statue of Veritas, posed like the statue of David.
It was shirtless, although thankfully he put pants on this one. They weren’t hung low either, so his happy trail was hidden from the public eye. Not like it made you jealous or anything.
“Can I touch it?”
Staring at the thing had made you curious as to the texture. Would it be cold and smooth? Or just a little rough? Maybe it was slightly powdery.
“As long as you promise to be gentle.”
Slowly, you moved your hand; first you gave a testing poke at the statues wrist, seeing if it may jump at you in some way; Maybe it would fall down and shatter. It looked so life like you might’ve actually believed it was Veritas in the flesh, if the real one wasn’t standing right by your side.
Of course, the statue was just simply hard and cold. It was not perfectly smooth though; unlike a granite counter top, the statue had some texture. When you instead dragged your fingers across his chest, you could feel it; a dry texture, not powdery but more like a terracotta pot. You could feel how his muscles were carved in, your fingers dragging across the valleys of his abs.
Veritas was being true to life when he made this. Which made you want to eat him, because why was he so casually perfect?
The statues belly button was also carved, with a particular attention to the small details inside. You were getting a little too close to fondling it however, so you quickly moved up to his face.
As subtle as you could be, you took glances between the statue and the real Veritas. The statue looked nearly identical, besides being chalk white. The hair moved in the same manner, falling across his large nose; the eyes even had the cat-like pupil that Veritas had.
There were no lashes however. You could feel none as you gently pressed the tip of your finger across his eyes. Unfortunate, given how beautiful they were on the real Veritas.
Who by the way, was still holding onto you waist. He had not left your side during this, instead merely watching you. When you turned to meet his eyes, you could see that his face was becoming a few shades pinker. His thick brows had shot up on his forehead, causing wrinkles that were not visible on the stone-faced statue of him.
...did you make it weird somehow?
“You appear to be cold.” Veritas said this as if he didn’t look feverish. He always ran as hot as a furnace but right now you were sure that he was overheating – perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to stay so close to him. Stealing his body heat was nice but not at the expense of his own comfort.
“Oh...a little bit, yeah.” He had yet to move away so you took that as an invitation to keep your body touching his, nearly digging your hipbone into his side.
He didn’t seem to mind your closeness, anyhow. While his face was still pinkish, he didn’t dare to move even a centimeter away from you.
“It ought to be warmer down the hall. The air conditioning is not as strong there.”
Perhaps you had made him so uncomfortable that he was too scared to say anything about it. The thought was killing you, but you beat it away – Veritas was not the type of person to allow such a thing. He spoke his mind, even if it meant hurting a girl’s feelings.
Honestly, he either assumed everyone was going to be on the same step he was or would berate them if they did not try too. Since he had yet to tell you anything, then you were probably in the right direction.
Wherever Veritas was leading the two of you was…. somewhere. You had no idea where the hell he was taking you.
When before you would have a few passersby, now there was basically no one. The art showcase had ended, instead leading to one of those long hallways that the university was full of. It was a strange sort of liminal space. There were doors that led to rooms you hadn’t been in, and they were all empty. Dark, quiet and stale. And if it weren’t for Veritas at your side, you may have believed that the hallways stretched forever.
You were close to an exit – large, open glass doors, showing how your were both so close and yet so far from the main event.
As sneakily as you could, your eyes crawled up Veritas’ form. The man holding you didn’t seem to act any differently – this location was rather lonely, or perhaps intimate. If you were in a horror, this would be the perfect place to lure in a victim.
Of course, you life was rather too boring for that. Veritas wouldn’t kill you, even if the idea that he was some secret psycho stalker was rather enticing. It was an easier thought to swallow than the possibility that maybe….perhaps, he did enjoy speaking to you.
Because you couldn’t help feeling guilty for enjoying this moment.
You were stealing his time, surely. Veritas was here because he had important people to talk too – in fact, he was one of those important people that had guests tripping over themselves just to talk too. Surely there were people looking for him, wishing to discuss one scientific article or his research.
But instead of talking to them, he was walking around with you in empty hallways. You didn’t want to assume things, because you’ve come to learn that your assumptions on people’s thoughts were usually wrong, but….did he like you?
As in, enjoy your presence in the same way you did with his?
Aeons, you were thinking too much.
“I’m not taking your time, am I?”
“No, I quite like being next to you,” When he said this, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. Perhaps just for the moment, but you could feel how your body loosened at his words. Yes, you sounded like a boring protagonist in a teen romance novel, but you couldn’t deny just how good those words made you feel.
He didn’t view as a burden. At least, you believed that you weren’t for this moment. Tonight you weren’t a pig with lipstick on like you had earlier – no, this felt just the same when you were in the coffee shop with him, simply talking and sipping away as you both always did. If you were a dog you would be wagging your tail right now.
“This event is filled with dishonesty, so you’re a breath of fresh air.”
He brought the two of you to some old painting that sat abandoned in this hall. It was a portrait of some great man a few hundred years ago – his name sat on the placard, with a small paragraph telling the tale of his life.
The man’s face was wrinkled, although you could tell from the spots on his pale skin that he must have lived somewhere warm – perhaps he had moved later in life to a warm planet, after he had done his job with the intelligensia guild.
It was covered in dust, which showed just how much they really respected him. When you dragged your finger across the glass, you could see the difference – the dust was so thick that it had distorted the colors on the piece, making it appear duller than it really was.
“Dishonesty in what way?”
Veritas looked as if he was trying to choke without making any noise. He punched his chest, clearing his throat in a way to shake it off. But based on the way his eyebrows pinched one another, it didn’t seem as if punching himself had done anything to help.
His eyes looked the painting up and down, too fast to truly be noticing any of the finer details. His head was turning toward you however, as if he was trying to force himself to make eye contact with you in this moment.
“….many people only see accomplishments. But you see people for what they are,” Finally, he managed to bring his eyes to yours. They dragged themselves so slowly, as if looking at every part of you like you were the painting instead. “Next to you, I feel undeniably human.”
Rather awkwardly, he shifted his hold on you. He faced you fully, his hands now moving to take yours. They were both so gentle and yet firm, as he moved between squeezing your hands and simply cradling them like a kitten.
And you were right about the fever thing – his hands were sweaty and warm, and they felt far warmer than they should be. His face as well, as while earlier he had a healthy pink to his cheeks, now he was becoming almost beet red.
His breathing seemed heavy as well….
“At this moment I dare say that-”
The words died in his mouth.
Like a dying fish, he stared at you and said nothing. His lips parted, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as if he was trying to say words, but his tongue kept swallowing them instead. At one point you though that maybe he would finish his sentence, as his jaw lowered just enough to give the impression of words, but he quickly shut it again, a loud breath of air being the only sound between the two of you.
Quickly, his plaster head popped back onto his face like acne on a teenager. You couldn’t tell what had changed – you looked around, and you could see nothing that would cause such a reaction.
Given that his hands were still holding yours, there was not a whole lot you could do to break free from the absolutely bizarre moment that Veritas had created. You shook his hands, watching as his arms moved stiffly while still holding onto you.
It felt like forever in that moment. His mask was looming over you, now hiding the man who was just about to finish a sentence.
“I’ll return to you.”
And just like that, he left. One moment you were staring into Veritas’ eyes and the next you could feel nothing but sweat and cold air as he rushed away from you.
-
So, Veritas did say that he would return to you. Maybe finish his words, or explain himself for the entirely bizarre reaction he had just showed you.
But it’s been 20 minutes and still. Nothing. Not another appearance as you stayed in the hallway, your eyes merely gazing at old and dusty paintings.
You could have gone to the main event – maybe find Robin again, or try and see what Aventurine was up too. But you didn’t really have it in you at the moment.
People in general were just never your thing. So why would you bother talking to a bunch of people who did nothing but zap your energy and make you want to curl up in your bed even more?
Really, you wanted to just find Veritas again and pester him for answers. It was eating at you – unfinished sentences were never a good thing. At least, in movies and shows and books and all sorts of media.
When someone leaves an unfinished sentence, there was something that was going to happen. They leave without the warning they wanted to give, or only half of the answer as to how to defuse a bomb.
What if he had something so important that you may never figure out? When would be the next time you saw him again?
In order to calm yourself from the irrational train of thought you had gone on, you moved to stare at the windows on the large exit you had passed earlier. There were still people entering and gathering from what you could see – you could hear the festivities far away, but it did not entice you as much as you ought to have been.
There was also….was it a person?
Outside the doors, there was something walking through the bushes. The light was not as good as it could be, so you could only vaguely see the shape of a person peaking out.
They were dressed like a cowboy, but tonight wasn’t halloween so you had no idea why they looked like that.
And then, they fell. Hard. They tried to crawl out of the bushes but something caught – it led to a nearly cartoonish fall, as the person fell entirely flat onto their face.
“Are you okay?”
You pushed the door open, looking at the cowboy who fell. Despite the long hair, you could now tell this was a man – given the lack of a real jacket to cover them and the fact that they groaned like a man.
“Yea, just peachy,” He kicked off the twig he had tripped on, trying to stand up as fast as possible. It was a messy affair, as he nearly fell onto his elbows as the twig stayed stubbornly attached to the spurs on his boots. “So...I lost my invite and they won’t let me back in. See, I left my wallet in the bathroom and I gotta get it back.” Wow, what a terrible liar this man was.
Even you could tell that he was lying through his teeth. The awkward laugh and the way he awkwardly folded himself to your height said enough. He was like a big dog trying to make himself appear as small as a chihuahua – it looked a little ridiculous on a grown man.
Despite the terrible lie and the way he awkwardly moved, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care about his real intentions.
He was probably just another strange guy trying to meet a celebrity or some other important person. By the looks of him, the man didn’t come from here – in a way it reminded you of Veritas.
Who mind you, still hadn’t returned to you. It upset you a bit more than you ought to admit.
You took on big step away from him, holding the door open for the cowboy. His steps were bigger however, as he took his long legs and stepped up right to your face, leaning down to look into your eyes.
“Well, thank you little lady.” As if you were a dog, he pat your head, his cold mechanical fingers heavy on your scalp.
That was a detail you didn’t notice till now. He was a cyborg – almost entirely, as the only human skin you could see on the man was his face.
It reminded you of the story you were working on. A cyborg, a gruff man….but a cowboy on top of that? You couldn’t even conjure up the idea of such a thing, but here he was, right in the flesh.
His clothes were whorish and his body was almost entirely crafted out of metal. You wanted to memorize this so you could write it down later – there was so much happening with him, and you couldn’t help but feel insanely curious.
Men like him don’t come to planet Veritas that often. This man was clearly not an academic – he must have come from some planet far away, like Robin and Sunday were.
“….I know I’m quite handsome, but I fly solo.”
“Oh no, not that.” He probably thought you were weird for looking at him for so long, but he was equally as weird for standing so close to you this entire time. “Where did you get your arms? I’ve never seen a model like that.”
Nothing that you had seen in your research at least. Maybe you should ask Veritas, because this seemed like something that he would have experience with.
“Oh, uh….” He took a step back as if you had burned him. Inwardly, you cringe – being a cyborg was likely a touchy subject, and now here you were asking an invasive question. “They were a gift from a friend. Custom made.”
“That’s neat….”
“I’m going to head out now. Uh, thank you for the help sweetheart.” Turning away, he waved at you and walked away quickly. As if he wasn’t there at all, he turned down one of the many empty hallways and disappeared from your vision.
-
Once again, you were left alone. No cowboy, no Veritas, and no one else passing you by.
It was rather peaceful though. You had found a bench to sit at and started to write the important parts of tonight.
This was something you had picked up from your classes. When you had an idea, you found the notes app on your phone and started to write what you wanted to remember. So your hands started typing away; the strange cowboy, the loudness of the event, how Veritas held you throughout the night, how Veritas had cradled your hands so gently….
There was a lot of Veritas in your thoughts. There was so much that he had done to peak your interest that you realized that most of your document was filled with him.
Veritas, Veritas, Veritas….
You were getting annoyed with yourself.
In the distance, the party got louder. There were screams and pounds – they must have kicked it up a notch. Veritas was likely annoyed if he was in the noise….if he was there. Maybe he left the party all together?
How the hell were you going to get home? You had no idea where Robin was, and while you could maybe find Topaz, it was awkward to ask her for a ride back to your shit apartment. It was so far from campus and making her drive so far just to see the shit shack that you lived in was horribly embarrassing.
Aeons, why did you even agree to this. Did this really beat a night at home? You probably could have finished an essay or turned in one of your many overdue assignments. Maybe go back to sending your work to more magazines and see if there was a chance that anyone in the universe was willing to publish your story.
Even just thinking about it made you feel like a loser. You were like Cinderella, except instead of having a romantic dance with your prince charming, all you did was fondle a statue of him and watch him run away from you.
Veritas wasn’t really a prince charming, but it was close enough.
Jeez….maybe you should go find him yourself.
You put your head in your hands, squeezing the temples of your head with the heel of your palms as you tried to think. Tonight seemed worse than usual – large groups of people were really not your thing.
“Y/n? What are you doing out here?” A strong hand landed on your shoulder – gloved and slender, and when you looked up, you could see Sunday’s face looming above yours. He seemed a little out of breath, as the wings on his head were ruffled and his chest heaved with controlled breaths.
It looked as if he was running, and particularly looked panicked. His head was turning around, searching for something, perhaps surveying the area for something.
“Um. I figured it would be best to stay put.”
“The building is being evacuated. We need to move.”
“Wait-” Without explaining anything more, he pulled you up from your seat, walking before you could even think.
What you had thought was a loud party was really screaming. It hadn’t even registered to you from the spot you were in – it was only when you walked back to the party did you see the chaos that was unfolding.
As you passed by the art gallery, you could see paintings that were knocked over in a panic. With your small view of the ballroom, it was visible that it was a large panic that had occurred. There were missing heels and dropped purses, broken glass and splattered food all over the ground. People were clustered around the main exits, running to their cars or searching for friends.
“Robin is waiting for us at the east entrance.”
Sunday was not necessarily a tall man, but he was certainly taller than you. His steps were faster, which made it more difficult to match his pace with the heels you had on. You had nearly fallen twice, your ankles so close to rolling and dropping you onto the ground.
“Y/n!”
“Ah, I see,” While his face was appropriate for the occasion you were both in, his voice was not. There was a teasing tilt as Sunday watched Veritas approach. “You were waiting for your boyfriend, I take it?”
“This is an emergency.”
The look of complete and utter panic was not one you could predict on Veritas. While you would think it would be something similar to constipation, it was actually closer to his thinking face. He had his brows scrunched and his lips were in a tight frown, his face looking away as if to read his invisible thoughts.
Like a bird, Sunday had practically flown away the moment he had the chance. It was almost comical to watch how fast he ran – his halo was almost struggling to keep up with his speed.
It was a little too distracting. Like Sunday had done to you earlier, he was pulling you to run at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. You had nearly tripped him as your body fell uselessly against him in the haste.
“Can you walk faster?” His voice was frustrated, the tone he had when he was grading his student’s papers. He was looking at you so, his eyes looking you up and down in an intense fashion.
“Sorry, I don’t wear heels often. This is as fast as I can go.”
It was horribly embarassing. Here you both were, in what seemed to be a real emergency, and you couldn’t help but flop around like a dying fish. You were no better than dead weight.
You tried to force yourself to walk again. Veritas had let go of you, so you had sped up to overtake him.
Well. You tried.
For a moment, you felt as if you had fallen again. Although – Instead of falling right onto you face like you should have, meeting the cold hard ground face first – you found that your chest was awkwardly buried into Veritas’ shoulder.
Without asking you, he had thrown you over his shoulder, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was on your thighs, just below your ass.
It was hard to find your own balance. Like a scared cat, your hands were grabbing at his jacket, grabbing at the fabric and digging your elbows against his shoulder blades. You pressed half of your face against his shoulder, your eyes struggling to adjust to the world moving upside down and faster.
He really could be an athlete. Even with your extra weight added on, he still moved much faster than you could.
The hand that had been just below your ass was in a rather awkward place – to keep you from falling, Veritas had his fingers curled around your thigh, curled into the fabric of your dress.
“Your dress is short.”
“Is that why your hand is on my ass?”
“Would you rather expose yourself to the entire venue?”
You could hear from his voice a building panic. In your head you still hadn’t really understood the situation – there was something bad happening and everyone was evacuating…..but what the hell was it?
While your body was focusing on the weird discomfort of your position – the way the wire of your bra dug into your skin, how you could feel your ribcage press against Veritas’ body and the way his cheekbones dug into your waist….geez, you might not really mind dying right now if it meant that you would get to stay like this forever.
Of course, you never got to enjoy things for long. As quickly as he had picked you up, he had already moved to put you down.
You were both a good distance away from the building, although not too far from the growing crowd of confused guests. Veritas had kneeled down to put you on the ground, making sure that you didn’t break your ankles as you were forced to go back onto your heels.
Perhaps he was on the ground for a bit too long. His fingers were still curled around the end of your dress, and his eye level was just above your midriff – if he kneeled down a little more, he would see your underwear.
He pulled your dress down, thankfully. It had ridden up during the debacle, so he made sure to pull out every wrinkle possible to spare you some of your dignity.
As if you had any left. You were practically melting at the moment – this might have been the first time you’d been in physical contact with another human being since….you didn’t even know when. And standing there, just watching as he dragged his hands downward your body had you reeling.
“Good to see you two lovebirds.”
Veritas was so strange. Just like earlier, he practically became a different person. His mask popped back onto his face, hiding the blush and look of pure terror on his eyes.
Aventurine strolled slowly, as if he wasn’t part of the terrifying event that just happened. His smile stayed the same as before, although he had a weird shake to him. It was subtle, given that the moment he had seen your eyes watching, he threw his hands into his pockets. Now he walked with a sort of swagger, as if it was natural to act so.
Great. What a way to ruin the moment.
“I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other.” Sunday decided to doubly ruin the moment, with his freaky way of appearing silently behind you. Seriously, how long was he there? How much did he see?
Oh aeons….what did he see?
“We’re friends.” Aventurine stepped closer to Sunday in a way that felt….tense. Yes, very tense – he leaned in, with his face closer to the man while his legs were a good step away, as if ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. Reminded you of a horse weirdly – head outstretched in some sort of curiosity, but skittish enough to know not to get too close.
“Why didn’t you tell me Y/n?” With the way the man spoke, you couldn’t really tell if he was hurt or not.
There was definitely a history between these two. You didn’t know what, but you could practically taste the tension between them.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No, not really.”
-
It’s been almost a week since that night. But despite that, life felt as if it was both the same and yet changed.
Your schedule did not change – you went to your workshops, you did your dishes and did your laundry, and you did your homework. You would write until past midnight and would trudge through your day in the same usual way you had done.
But there was a subtle feeling that had begun to creep up on you. Every time you passed a corner or passed by a crowd, you felt it – there was that rush of adrenaline. As if you were a deer in a forest, you would find that your entire body was prepared to run. Somewhere in that night, the world had become a little bit clearer, as now the people whom you once ignored had become potential enemies.
Although still, you did not really change anything about your life. But change did chase you.
Veritas was also different since that night. In a small way – he would express more, smile a little more and would meet your eyes a little less.
Your meetings were the same. But there were these strange moments, as the touch that he seemed naturally inclined to do had suddenly ceased. As if you had burned him. There were some things that remained unsaid however, such as the way he had acted so strange that night.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.” The two of you were spending your monday morning together at a small corner of your campus. Your usual place at the library did not make you comfortable, given the crowd.
It was not all bad however. The little gazebo was rather romantic – the flowers were at the end of their bloom, but it did not make them anymore beautiful. They sang when the cold breeze would pass through them, and you could feel comfortable wearing one of your thick sweaters. It had sat in the back of your closet for so long, and it was unfortunate as it was one of the best pieces in your closet.
“...I feel like your female protagonist is a lot like me.”
This was something you had been meaning to confront. After seeing the statue, it had been hard to ignore the glaring issue with Veritas’ story – the fact that the character you had most fault with seemed to be based off of you.
She was an artist, and you were a writer. She would touch Veritas in the same way you had touched him – he had described multiple times the exact moments that the two of you experienced. The times you had cried in his arms, the warmth you two had shared, and even the feeling of skin on skin.
Throughout your time with him and with your complaints, you found that his character had started to mold itself in a shape of you.
“That isn’t a question.”
“Well. Is it on purpose?” You leaned in closer to the man. His face was almost buried in his book, his eyes pointedly avoiding yours in favor of the page he had not turned.
“I find you inspiring.”
The closest to eye contact he made was when he moved his eyes to stare to the side of you.
“How?”
“You are honest, brave, and willing to admit your faults.”
Slowly, his eyes trailed their way toward you. How unfortunate as the wind blew your hair in front of your face. You were too busy fighting your hair to see what expression Veritas could have made.
“Personable as well.” He leaned over to help clear your vision. He curled the strands around the shell of your ear, gently carding his fingers down your skull to keep it as tight as possible.
And it was made quite obvious to you now that he was seeing you. As in, really looking at your face – he had his study face on, the one he wore when it was something important to remember. His brows pitched and his irises shook a little, as if reading your face like a novel.
“Sounds like you’re confessing to me.”
“Why don’t you draw the conclusion?”
The world was coming to a still that moment. It was like the shock of being shot in the chest but without the pain. There was silence, your body fell completely still and all you could think about what Veritas’ eyes and the fact that you weren’t sure if you were breathing.
That was a scary thought. He wanted you to solve this? On your own?
The conclusion you were drawing was certainly not right…
How he had been so comfortable touching you, speaking with you, treating you as if you had known one another for years before rather than months. Veritas even let you call him by his first name, something that had been notably odd by every person who knew him.
The man really did like you. And he had thought of you before – he carved your body, he wrote down your bad jokes, and he had written how your bodies seemed to fit perfectly into one another.
Your face was heating up thinking about it. How you felt about was no mystery to you; no, cause it was a torture you went through every time you thought about something more. It was a war in your head whenever he would put his hand on your body, as you could only imagine if it traveled just a little further, or if his face came just a little closer….
Aeons. Was he being tortured the same way?
“So what are you doing this weekend?” You had no idea how to address that. How hopeless of you.
“Ah...I actually wanted to request something from you,” Veritas seemed weirdly satisfied with your response. You had addressed nothing, but his face seemed to glow. A smile spread on his face, his eyes crinkling alongside it. “There’s a series the university is doing on women and the arts.”
“I have something I wish to sculpt for it, but I need a model.”
“Like, naked art?”
“Only if you would wish too. I prefer to work as much as possible with the human form, but I understand if that makes you uncomfortable.” From the way he said it and the way he looked at you, it didn’t seem like he was expecting a no from you. The words were more for show, but the eagerness in his voice seemed as if he had a full expectation to see your body.
“You’ve already seen my bare ass, I guess it’s not much of a difference.”
The words left you cold because holy shit you just agreed to that.
-
“How are you guys smart when you’re so stupid?”
“What?”
“He self-inserted himself as your lover in his book. Is that not romantic?” Once again, you were having lunch with Aventurine. Once again, without your consent – he had bribed you with xianzhou-style noodles this time, which was both horribly spicy and amazingly delicious.
Although this time you were both in a private booth. It seemed that he was just as on edge as you had become, as he would shift his occasionally to scan your surroundings. Every person that walked into his vision was scrutinized, and every loud sound had him tense.
“That was literally a confession!”
“I don’t know!”
The blond in front of you had red lips and a creeping red face, burning as he continued to eat his spicy noodles. You probably looked no better, honestly.
“...he made a sculpture of me.” Not something he had come to explain to you yet. The fact it was made before he had known you, and the fact that he had never bothered to reveal it to you. How he had been cradling you in the statue as well…. “And asked me to pose for another one.”
He said it was about women. But was it exclusively women or was he going to self-insert himself into the statue again?
“...and get naked for it.” Dear aeons, thinking about standing naked in front of him was making thinking impossible. You were going to blame the blush on your face on the noodles.
There was a loud groan coming from Aventurine.
“Can you guys just fuck and get together already?” For added dramatics, the man gagged as if to vomit.
“Why does this concern you anyway?”
You threw a napkin at him – tearing it piece by piece, rolling it into a little ball and aiming the pieces toward his hair. He dodged each one, laughing a dry laugh as he did so.
“Playing cupid is fun! Also you guys seem to be allergic to the words “I love you” and it makes me sick.”
Once again he gagged. It seemed like he was more invested in your and Vertias’ affairs than either of you seemed to be.
“Also also. I promised you I would make this happen.”
“You haven’t really done much. Sorry.”
“Oh, so you didn’t like it when he was groping your ass at the party?”
So he did see then. And if Aventurine was paying attention, then that meant a lot more people saw it. Which really, why was that surprising? It was a large event and Veritas was a popular man…. Maybe someone even took a photo and posted it online, just like that time you had gotten pushed. Oh god.
“It was not groping. He was protecting my dignity.”
“Are you stupid or in denial?”
For a small moment, there was a slip. His eyes were not just dull and lifeless, but seeing through you, like looking out a window of a spaceship. They reminded you that you were not just existing in your head, but a real, tangible thing. That if he wanted too, he could reach across the table and touch you, like any other physical object in this world.
“...I don’t like that question. I will not answer it.”
That idea made you feel naked. If only you had a jacket to cover you up, to hide you from his gaze and to let you pretend that you were merely a spectator to the world, and not part of it.
For a long moment, a silence fell over the both of you. It seemed as if Aventurine was satisfied to let the conversation die – or perhaps was just lying in wait until he could press you again on the subject.
A perfect time to go back to your noodles.
“Since you’re here, I have a question I want to ask.”
“Is it how he feels for you?” Like a shadow person lingering just in the corner of your vision, the perception he had just revealed was whisked away. Now he had gone back to being a little strange and a little silly, his face upturned in a smile to reflect the image he wanted to portray. “Because oh I heard a lot.”
“Actually, this is about Sunday,” This was a total mood killer. The man seemed to be a sore subject, but it’s begun to really eat at you. The party really showcased it – Sunday was actually offended that you even were friends with Aventurine. He hid it so poorly, but it was obvious. “Why do you guys dislike each other?”
“It’s a business thing. But also he’s just kind of an asshole.”
“Oh. I’ve never seen Sunday like that.”
“He’s a dickhead.” Hissing those words with a smile, Aventurine went back to his own noodles. He still had the fortune cookie besides his bowl, taunting you.
“So why do you want to talk to him?”
“Not telling yet. I need to solve your problem first.” He spoke with a mouthful of food, somehow not choking as he shoved more in his mouth. It was like he was just as hungry as you were.
There was a small silence that followed. With the both of you engrossed back into your bowls, the conversation took a pause as you focused on chewing and grabbing the noodles correctly. You had terrible chopstick skills and Aventurine was using a fork and still struggling, so there was little judgment over the droplets of soup broth all over the table.
“...I have to get naked in front of him this weekend.”
“This is literally a dream set up, why are you upset?”
Were you upset? The emotion you felt at the idea was strong, but you weren’t sure if upset was the right word for it. Maybe it was regret, because now you had to follow through. Or fear.
Yeah, maybe fear. Your own emotions were kind of hard for you to understand, but it was probably fear. Being naked was scary, especially in front of someone that you found yourself feeling a lot around.
For everyone keeping up with this fic I love you all very dearly, as I read the last three chapters and they had so many grammar and spelling issues. and probably this one too. I should probably edit it cause holy shit what am I doing with the plot here
I'm going to try to condense this into like one more chapter (or maybe two because I seem incapable of shutting up) and then post a more polished version on ao3 lmao
Notes: Reupload from my previous blog. The prompt was something along the lines of 'the moment he realises he's fallen for reader'. If you don't know what a codpiece is, I suggest looking it up before reading this.
Tags: Dr. Ratio x gn!reader, codpiece mention, banter?, realising he's in love, fluff, 800 words.
Without hesitation, the book in his hand was closed and found a home atop the worn coffee table, his body twisting to glance at you in the kitchen. Surely, he had misheard you. There was no way you would-
"A codpiece, Veritas. Have you ever considered making one?"
The way heat flooded to his face made the wish to hide under a familiar alabaster head resurface, an urge not often felt in your company. It was frustrating really, somehow you always made him loose his footing, and what on earth could have compelled you to ask such a ridiculous question?
Wearing the piece around you would be too great a shame to not see clearly how the light warmed whenever it touched your smile, how gracefully you moved around the table with a tray of freshly baked scones, the crinkles around your eyes when you laughed. Always your eyes, attentive and light, ensnaring him whenever he sought answers from you, and he would let them without hesitation. That was a truth.
If perfection existed, it had to be contained within you.
"Well, have you? They have been very fashionable is what I've heard. I'm sure you could cause an uproar if you made one out of that mineral you like so much," amusement was clear from your tone, and as always your words were most likely carefully picked.
"Alabaster was simply fitting, I would hardly call it my favorite. You should know better than thinking me rash enough to act on your whims, I have no intention of causing any uproar at the University unrelated to my teaching material," a scoff left his lips before he continued, "and don't think I missed your little 'have been'."
He enjoyed these peaceful afternoons, as peaceful as any room could be with you present at least, but it was not unwelcome. What had started as a simple apology on your end, having ruined one of his books by accident, had quickly turned into a weekly occurrence when it became clear how much you both enjoyed what you'd taken to calling 'tea parties'.
Your company was refreshing, carefree but wise, and utterly without restraint when it curiosity took hold, the routine of your little gatherings were pleasant while still allowing ample room for variety in topic of conversation. Lately you'd begun requesting taking turns reading aloud to the other, which he had no problem indulging. A small chuckle slipped past his lips, carefully concealed as clearing his throat.
Upon lifting the delicate porcelain to his lips, it was impossible not to notice how your were grinning at him from across the table, already curled up and comfortable as usual. There was no reason not to inquire, the beaming look in your eyes having already summoned butterflies inside his body. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore how pleasant your company was, especially on days such as today where he'd showed up unprompted after work, yearning more for your voice than he did a long bath.
Or perhaps, inviting you home to bathe with him would've been the optimal course of action?
Oh that wasn't good. He shifted uncomfortably, one leg crossing over the other when blood gathered in an inconvenient place. That ridiculous garment you'd suggested would have been a blessing in his current predicament.
"You're clearly enjoying yourself, why else would you go to the trouble of brewing us a new type of tea for today?" He set his cup down, eyeing it with skepticism as he awaited whatever had you looking so giddy, the sight of your lips stretching in a smile enough to have his heart struggling to break free.
How he wished he could've cursed out loud then and there, how he had been foolish enough to go months without being able to identify exactly what the budding feeling in his chest was, was far beyond him at present moment.
"I fixed your book. It's not perfect, but I did my best, and bookbinding was a lot harder than expected, so it took a while… Sorry," there was such pride in your eyes that he could practically feel his heart about to burst.
With a slightly shaky hand, the lightheadedness from his arousal only intensified by the sheer disbelief as he accepted the leatherbound book. By no means had it been valuable before, holding neither monetary nor sentimental value, but as Ratio set it inconspicuously in his lap, he couldn't help but trace his fingers along the now slightly uneven spine, knowing there was only one thing he could ever treasure more than this.
Kinktober drabble; Ratio + impact play + afab reader
"Again," Veritas' voice is accompanied by a sharp smack to your already sore rear. "Go on, tell me exactly what you want."
You sniffle softly, squirming against your lover's firm thighs and the prominent bulge poking at your tummy. His hand feels warm against your ass, the soft squeezes a stark contrast to his unyielding request.
"I-.." His hand lifts in warning when you hesitate and you brace yourself for an impact that never comes, a shiver running down your spine in anticipation. "I want..."
Another spank.
Another sigh from his sculpted lips.
Another whimper from you.
"Do you not trust me?" His voice is softer now, almost insecure.
"I don't wanna think anymore today..." Heat rises to your cheeks at the admission. No matter how many times, letting go always felt daunting.
Veritas easily adjusts your body to sit in his lap, firm arms cradling you against his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead.
"My sweet, hardworking girl.. Just relax and let me take care of everything tonight."
Ratio is a big fan of doing sexual things while reading
Like, here are a few examples: fingering your sweet pussy while you read his latest studies, eating you out while you read your favorite fantasy novel, and fucking you while you read aloud his own works
Buuut doesn’t just stop there, he’ll have you suck his cock while he reads too! Your sweet lips wrapped around him while he pages through some of his favorite books is one of his favorite pastimes
Notes: Happy birthday, sweet @vynlrecord. Apologies for not having anything with your current fixation, I hope you still enjoy this ><
Tags: Suggestive, domestic fluff, light banter, 500 word drabble
Minors DNI
"Hey-" laughter cut off your protest, and you couldn't help the flutter of your heart as you caught sight of the subdued smirk on Veritas' lips.
The sun still sat low in the sky, warm hues of orange filtering through the curtains. You'd barely blinked sleep from your eyes when Veritas had practically rolled on top of you in an uncharacteristically brazen display, straddling your hips while singing in a quiet voice.
"You're making it exceedingly difficult to give you your first present of the day." The glint in his eyes told you to weigh every word. But it was early, and you would be lying if you said you weren't curious.
With a sigh of feigned resignation, you moved your hands from his biceps and got comfortable beneath him. You barely had time to word your acceptance before his velvety lips brushed against your cheek. No stranger to his affections, your eyes fluttered while he continued to press kisses to your skin, his broad palms resting atop your ribs, with an occasional finger finding its way beneath your top.
A minute or so in, you began to grow restless, carding your fingers through his hair and playing with the silken strands. Veritas had only just finished littering your face (your entire face) with kisses and had now moved on to your throat, every kiss growing a little more insistent in a way that sent jolts of heat through your body.
"Veri, what're you doing..?"
Sunset eyes met your gaze as he detached from your neck, "I would have thought it was quite obvious, dearest. I'm appreciating every last inch of you."
You inhaled deeply when he leaned back down to nip at the junction of your shoulder, catching the faint scent of spices from the kitchen. He'd been up early to prepare breakfast?
Your mouth watered at the thought, knowing his attention to detail most likely meant a small feast was waiting for you. "But it's taking forever… Isn't it a bit excessive?"
"Nonsense," he countered, the sound vibrating against your tender skin as he continued to make you squirm, ever so slowly moving towards your chest. "Perhaps my first gift to you is a lesson in patience?"
You writhed beneath him, breath catching in your throat when he squeezed your waist and pressed his half-hard bulge against your thigh. "Or perhaps, I wish to demonstrate how to show appreciation for the finer things in life, such as you. What better way to celebrate a masterpiece than by worshipping it?"
If heat had not already rushed to your cheeks, you were certain they had to be burning by now. "But Veri, breakfast…"
It was a weak protest and you knew it, especially with the way your legs had already parted to let him settle between them.
"Will be done in twenty minutes, leaving me plenty of time to take care of you."
Summary: An argument in the morning rubs you the wrong way. But had it all been a misunderstanding or did he mean what he said…
AN// Guys gays sorry for my absence I’m slowly trying to come back. I graduated so I’ll have some time to write a few works for yall. So while I try to get back, have this short domestic Ratio fic c: I’ve never written for him and prob won’t again, I just felt like rambling this out while building him xd
“Inadequate.”
An argument here and there wasn’t unusual to you while living with Veritas. He seemed to use them as a way to tease you, even when he didn’t strive to prove a point or attempt to win the argument. You’d started to suspect that he might have even somewhat enjoyed it when you could prove yourself to be correct. Which either way, was fine with you. He had his own ways of showing adoration towards you, even if a little odd.
But this morning felt different. The argument had been a lot more meaningless than usual. Not that any of the bickering in your usual mornings was somehow meaningful, but this one had left a bad taste in your mouth. In the end, you weren’t even quite sure if he’d been serious or not with the things he’d said. You had almost put it off for being some kind of morning crankiness, but then again he’d never been that way before. It must have been something else.
There wasn’t much time in the morning to ponder over thoughts like these, and that was probably the worst part of it all. You along with him had a job to do and maybe that would get your mind off of this. You could have just overthought the whole thing and it was just better to forget about it. Hopeful thinking.
“I’ll be hedging out. I’ll see you late for supper,” you’d called out while collecting anything necessary for the day. A rather mindless and automatic comment, to which you never really expected a reply to. You’d get a text from him by the time he’d left your shared space anyway, usually a request for said supper plans.
But this time he answered, “try to be on time” came from around the corner. You couldn’t see the man himself but the answer didn’t sit right with you. It was enough to make you muster up a “what?” as your expression contorted into a mixture of confusion and slight hurt. “When have I ever been late?” You asked almost straight after, speaking a little louder this time. You didn't have the habit of coming in late if you’d planned something with him. Not only because you knew he’d enjoy the scolding he’d get out of it, but also because you respected him and wanted to honor plans made with him. This also didn’t help your confusion of whether or not he was being serious. Was he actually irritated with you?
“You’re usually rather punctual, yes. Even if you may lack in other areas.” His voice replied, while what sounded like him collecting whatever he needed for the day. You weren’t sure if his words were meant to be chewed quite as much as you did. Perhaps it truly was your mind running on some kind of overdrive, and he truthfully wasn’t irritated. In that case, getting offended by whatever he said would likely upset him as well. But even if you said nothing in response to him, that didn’t stop you from wondering if you’d actually done something wrong. Maybe you’d performed a task differently recently and somehow lacked in the process, that’d be on you. It could even be that this whole thing had started because of that, which was upsetting to think about. Not to mention the time, which was already running out.
You grimaced at the thought of having to leave the conversation there. The want to get to the bottom of this was clawing at you, but so was the need to start moving. So your mind filled in the gaps for you, deciding on the possible reasoning. You’d somehow irritated him the day before and missed the chance to talk it out.
Taking a hold of the door handle, you paused for a moment. It was better to play it safe and at least apologise if this had been on you, that’d make you feel better. “I apologise if I was inadequate. I’ll see you later.” You called out before leaving, closing the door a little more hesitantly than intended. Wondering if you should have stayed to talk for longer but ultimately choosing to be on time instead.
As much as you’d hoped that would have solved the issues, something didn’t sit quite right. As the day passed the same thought kept spiraling at the back of your mind. Had you actually messed something up? It didn’t make sense for him to not just correct you on the spot, but what else could he have meant?
There had been nothing you could have done from work. Shooting out a text felt wrong in a way. That wasn’t how you wanted to settle this. After all, this had become an issue you felt like needed to be fixed properly. Yet as you stood by a familiar door there was hesitancy holding your hand back from opening the door and going to share supper with him. As usual of an activity as that had become for the both of you.
You weren’t quite sure if it’d been you who’d brought in the tense and oddly uncomfortable atmosphere or if it’d been there the whole time. But it lingered in the air while hanging your clothing, putting your things away and unloading the supper from the bags.
As much as a part of you had hoped that whatever had transpired earlier had blown over by then, that just wasn’t true. Not when you heard a subtle, “you’re late” from the living room. Freezing up for a moment before looking up from the food your eyes recognized Ratio as he came by the table. His eyes avoiding yours, inspecting the food you’d brought with you. Your brows furrowed before checking the time, there was no way you’d actually been horribly late. Sure, there’d been some extra work to get done but you had never stood him up. “No I’m not.” A simple reply after noticing that you’d been correct. Unless a minute or two over meant you’d been catastrophically late in his eyes. Which you would have teased him about if it hadn’t been for the tense atmosphere. But either way, there was no comment to your response, nor any smart comeback. Seemingly his interest in the topic had disintegrated, merely watching as you unloaded the supper onto the kitchen table. A somewhat calmer silence filling the air once more.
“Don’t act like everything is alright.” The oddly irritated, on edge voice of Ratio caused your eyes to move back over to him. Seeing the crease between his brows, frustration clear in the way he presented himself. Yet, as much as you wanted to lay down how you were feeling, the need to further that rare sight of pure frustration won over. “Elaborate?” You asked, voice held at a surprisingly calm tone. It took more than trained self control not to smirk at the scowl that’d formed onto his face. “Oh don’t play coy, the apology. Are you trying to taunt me instead of admitting you were out of arguments?” He replied, hands leaned firmly against the table. Clear that this had bothered him for a while now. This.
You paused, brows furrowing as your thoughts became jumbled. This had been the reason? The whole time you’d worried about him being upset with you, this had been it? “What?” The words left your lips with a faint tone, almost a whisper. You turned back to him, head lowered in confusion. A hint of annoyance for your own earlier assumptions seeping in. “I didn’t apologise because of that. I assumed I must have lacked in something I’d done and apologised in case you were serious.” And with that the tense atmosphere changed rapidly, a silence filling the air.
Ratio stared at you. Whatever words he may have held back for you, were now held back for good. The earlier irritation slowly melted away as the silence grew heavier, his posture easing out along with it. “You fool.” He leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A sharp sigh escaped him before he was able to formulate any other words. “You think I’d ever find you inadequate?” Ratio spoke from behind his hand, keeping his eyes closed as his mind processed the situation.
You blanked out for a moment after, a subtle frown making a home of your face as you realised the misunderstanding. Feeling worse about the fact that it’d seemingly bothered him too. Head lowered, you fidgeted with your hands to ease the upset. “I didn’t think you would until you mentioned it…” Which now that you were looking at it from a different angle made a whole lot more sense. Why would he ever say that to you…
By the time you looked back at Ratio, there was a hint of guilt on his face as well. Which in turn did not show in the way he replied. “I didn’t…I wasn’t referring to anything specific. Obviously I didn’t mean to offend you.” He huffed, as if having to force the last bits out of his mouth. “Right…I should have realised.” You replied. Not even aware how sorry you looked from his perspective. A major reason for why it was hard for him to even pretend he was still irritated for the waste of time this misunderstanding had been.
The now awkward silence was eating away at the both of you and it was apparent. You didn’t know how else to fix this and the food was getting cold. “Do you..still want to have supper?” You then asked, just to break the barrier that’d appeared between the two of you. A deep breath left him. He shook his head before sitting down, accepting the offer. You flashed him a subtle smile before plating the food, hoping this was a way to fix how the both of you were feeling.
The subtle sound of eating and cutlery hitting the plates filled the air. It felt a little more familiar than whatever had transpired earlier. But that peace didn’t last long. “Have you eaten today?” Came from Ratio. His voice didn’t hold the earlier irritation within it, but his tone sounded more forced than anything. “A little, it was a busy day.” You replied, not paying enough mind to his question to even look up at him, continuing to eat. Though that was just the reason you told yourself. To Ratio, the fatigue in your movements was clear, there was no doubt about it. Which in turn made him feel a little more guilty for the misunderstanding. Knowing it likely had strained you even more than him, even when working. And this concern did not go unnoticed by you. Only the lack of response was enough of a warning sign for an incoming order for rest. “But I’m fine, let’s just eat. Your food will get cold.” You chimed in before he could. It was clear to you he felt bad but typically for him, he was holding back after coming to the conclusion that it’d just been a mishap.
You stood up after eating, moving over to the sink to wash up the plates in silence. But to your surprise before you were even able to begin, Ratio stuck himself between you and the sink, effectively taking up the task. “Let me, you've done enough for today.” He said, back facing you as a blank wall. No arguments would move him from the task, already running the tap and washing the plates.
You were left with the words stolen from the tip of your tongue, nothing to be said anymore. You wanted to protest about this as some form of revenge, but the sight of him clearly trying to make up for what’d happened by helping you was sweet enough to make you give in.
There was slight hesitation in your movements before Ratio was able to feel your forehead pressing against his back, arms loosely draped around his waist. His movements froze for a fraction of time before he was able to resume washing the dishes.
There were no words, none were needed. Just the sound of the tap running into the sink, a somewhat rare domestic moment shared as he worked on the plates. In that moment it was almost funny to think of the whole misunderstanding, how troublesome something so small could truly get. And it was almost as if he’d read your thoughts when a calm comment came from him, feeling the rumble of the words against his back. “Feeling foolish yet, then?” He asked. You could almost hear the smirk forming on his face, even if it wasn’t visible to you. A soft huff escaped you, deciding to lean slightly away from him to try and argue back. “This was entirely your fault.” Ratio placed the last plate away at that, turning to face you at last.
He took a moment to assess your features before deciding on what to say. “I think you’re ridiculous for even assuming I’d think of you that way.” His tone was firm, almost scolding. And you were almost buying it, if it hadn’t been for his body which betrayed the poor man. His hands making their way to your lower back. “Do you know how long I had to think to find something I could have messed up?” You asked with furrowed brows, feigned irritation mixed somewhere in there. An attempt to hold your post. His brows rose as if the answer was too obvious for him to even voice. “You should have considered the obvious answer first.” He said, clearly having the upper hand in this argument. Though, it didn’t take him long to realise this was not the time to scold you for your way of thinking. After a moment of silence he spoke up again. “And..maybe I could have worded myself better.” He said, looking aside while giving you a slight head tilt, admitting defeat in that regard. And that might as well have been the best apology you were going to receive, which you accepted accompanied by a somewhat mocking chuckle.
Straightening your back, you reached to fix the pin in his hair. Noticing how it’d slipped down, looking a little out of place for his usually sharp exterior. Poor mad had been bothered by this just as much as you. “Yeah, maybe you should’ve.” You hummed, brushing his hair back in place. He didn’t react, but it was clear there was no more irritation left in his body. He appeared almost vulnerable as he leaned his head in slightly to help you. He’d never think that way of you, obviously.
