axolotsofluv

[axolotsofluv]

the brightest star- dr. ratio x reader

synopsis: your beloved husband bringing you some comfort after a rough day. hurt/comfort (i think?).

warnings: possibly ooc ratio, but i think he would be very soft and sweet to his s/o! so none!

word count: 545

author’s note: this is set in a modern au! hope you enjoy! <3

taglist: @axolotsofluv, @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @corvies, @sheyfu, @threnodians, @sswrillya, @strwbrydreamz, @chokifandom, @sillyseraphie, @riaruu, + @m1ckeyb3rry! lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

today could not get any worse. first it was spilling coffee on your shirt, then you got yelled at for something that wasn’t your fault. next thing you know, lunch rolls around and you forgot your lunch. whatever, the shitty day made you lose your appetite anyway. your husband typically messaged you during lunch, since somehow and some way you had the same lunch time. but he didn’t message you today. you couldn’t lie- it stung a little bit. surely it doesn’t get worse, right?

wrong.

following lunch, two coworkers snapped at you for no fucking reason. and because you were the professional you were, you kept your very not work-friendly retorts to yourself and just kept dealing with your day. and right before you left work to head home, your headphones died. and typically this wouldn’t be a problem, but today was just so overstimulating that this was the final straw. 

so when you finally reach your shared home, you’re a bit shocked to see Vertias’s shoes by the door. odd, he typically doesn’t arrive home before you. he’s in the kitchen, prepping your favorite meal. he turns around to face you, and you swear the troubles of the day almost wash off. almost. he comes and greets you by the door, pressing a short and sweet kiss on your forehead.

“you’re just in time, my love. i’m almost done cooking your favorite meal for dinner.” he looks over at you, and the tears start ebbing in your eyes. Veritas looks at you, a bit confused.

“what’s wrong, love? talk to me.” he asked.

and the tears let themselves out like an overflowing dam. you rushed into his arms and just cried. Veritas looked down at you and simply held you. sometimes words didn’t need to be exchanged. after a few minutes, your sobs turned into hiccups and then said hiccups subsided just enough for you to talk to your husband. 

“i spilled coffee on myself first thing in the morning, got yelled at by a coworker, forgot my lunch, and then two other coworkers snapped at me for something that wasn’t my fault. you didn’t text me at lunch, either…” you admitted the last part a bit shyly. your husband’s eyes widened a bit. 

“i’m so sorry, my love. i completely was sidetracked at work today and didn’t get to message you before your break was over. but i figured coming home early and prepping your favorite meal would make you feel better. i figured you had a bad day when you walked in. you’re typically much happier and cheery. i was quite concerned. please don’t hold back your feelings from me,” he said. you nodded, and part of you swooned at his words. for an arrogant doctor, he sure did know how to make you feel better. he was so kind and gentle with you, you wondered how his coworkers wouldn’t like him. he leaves your side and puts two plates of food on the kitchen table and grabs your hand and leading you to eat.

“come, my love. let’s eat. and while we eat, you can tell me all about your troubles. it’s the least i can do as your husband.”

he really knows how to make your day better, huh?

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[axolotsofluv]

the brightest star- dr. ratio x reader

synopsis: your beloved husband bringing you some comfort after a rough day. hurt/comfort (i think?).

warnings: possibly ooc ratio, but i think he would be very soft and sweet to his s/o! so none!

word count: 545

author’s note: this is set in a modern au! hope you enjoy! <3

taglist: @axolotsofluv, @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @corvies, @sheyfu, @threnodians, @sswrillya, @strwbrydreamz, @chokifandom, @sillyseraphie, @riaruu, + @m1ckeyb3rry! lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 

today could not get any worse. first it was spilling coffee on your shirt, then you got yelled at for something that wasn’t your fault. next thing you know, lunch rolls around and you forgot your lunch. whatever, the shitty day made you lose your appetite anyway. your husband typically messaged you during lunch, since somehow and some way you had the same lunch time. but he didn’t message you today. you couldn’t lie- it stung a little bit. surely it doesn’t get worse, right?

wrong.

following lunch, two coworkers snapped at you for no fucking reason. and because you were the professional you were, you kept your very not work-friendly retorts to yourself and just kept dealing with your day. and right before you left work to head home, your headphones died. and typically this wouldn’t be a problem, but today was just so overstimulating that this was the final straw. 

so when you finally reach your shared home, you’re a bit shocked to see Vertias’s shoes by the door. odd, he typically doesn’t arrive home before you. he’s in the kitchen, prepping your favorite meal. he turns around to face you, and you swear the troubles of the day almost wash off. almost. he comes and greets you by the door, pressing a short and sweet kiss on your forehead.

“you’re just in time, my love. i’m almost done cooking your favorite meal for dinner.” he looks over at you, and the tears start ebbing in your eyes. Veritas looks at you, a bit confused.

“what’s wrong, love? talk to me.” he asked.

and the tears let themselves out like an overflowing dam. you rushed into his arms and just cried. Veritas looked down at you and simply held you. sometimes words didn’t need to be exchanged. after a few minutes, your sobs turned into hiccups and then said hiccups subsided just enough for you to talk to your husband. 

“i spilled coffee on myself first thing in the morning, got yelled at by a coworker, forgot my lunch, and then two other coworkers snapped at me for something that wasn’t my fault. you didn’t text me at lunch, either…” you admitted the last part a bit shyly. your husband’s eyes widened a bit. 

“i’m so sorry, my love. i completely was sidetracked at work today and didn’t get to message you before your break was over. but i figured coming home early and prepping your favorite meal would make you feel better. i figured you had a bad day when you walked in. you’re typically much happier and cheery. i was quite concerned. please don’t hold back your feelings from me,” he said. you nodded, and part of you swooned at his words. for an arrogant doctor, he sure did know how to make you feel better. he was so kind and gentle with you, you wondered how his coworkers wouldn’t like him. he leaves your side and puts two plates of food on the kitchen table and grabs your hand and leading you to eat.

“come, my love. let’s eat. and while we eat, you can tell me all about your troubles. it’s the least i can do as your husband.”

he really knows how to make your day better, huh?

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[axolotsofluv]

Why are we still here... just to suffer?

hsr uploaded a video in cn bilibili where phainon invited and introduce the trailblazer to his home and share tidbits of his early life then he took them to the dock and asked them to hold his cape(?) or clothes (?) (im not too sure here guys 😭) because he's going into the water to catch some fish for trailblazer. then he fell into the water with a yelp LMAO and he successfully caught them and he had to lie down in the wheat field waiting for his clothes to dry. I KID YOU NOT THERE'S SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER???? OWNXNDKAIAIA

then phainon started to talk about his dog and he immediately noticed there's a wheat ear/grains on trailblazer's face, he asked them to close their eyes so that he could help remove it and trailblazer went close to him????? then that's it

his precious smile 🥹

here's the link if anyone wants to watch it: b23.tv/sXgvkKS

though i think you guys need cn bilibili app

[axolotsofluv]

what did u think about the 3.4 quest!!!

I haven't finished the current quest yet but judging from people's reactions, and seeing some spoilers...

Yeah... I don't think I'm gonna continue it right now. I'm gonna have exams next week and I don't think I need the additional stress ಥ_ಥ

Have u finished it? If yes... Are you okay, friend? (；∀；)

[axolotsofluv]

Bro my Phainon is crazy 😭🙏

He fucking did 33K dmg and he's barely built 💀 (I still have to build my Anaxa and the others)

what did you feed him? 33k for an unbuilt unit? I'm jealous 😭😭

Then again, as he should 😔👏👏 what's the point in suffering thru millions of cycles if you can't even deal decent dmg smh /lh

Now, off you go! Build your scholar and your other non-phainon units 🫵😄

[axolotsofluv]

━━━━━━ in destruction and desolation ⟢

♱    |    thirty-three million, five hundred fifty thousand, three hundred thirty three cycles, and the one time you let phainon marry you.

𖤝 including  ⠀! ⠀phainon          ◟          𖤝 warnings ⠀! ⠀spoilers for the new 3.4 trailblaze mission-ish, phainon and you are married here, angst, no beta we die like polluxia

❝      tags     ⚜     .   if you'd like to be tagged please send me an ask off-anon or interact with this post!!

“phainon, what is it that you wish for?”

years ago, phainon would have answered with utmost confidence. “i’d like to open an antique shop!”

the reply came out smooth and hurried, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask him that particular question for centuries. he’d beam at you, all glistening white teeth with a slight chip because he tripped over some crates. you’d chuckle. because phainon’s dream of being a shop owner somehow never made sense — but when he said it like he’s so sure it would happen, you’re left speechless and mindlessly nodding to whatever plans he had.

a quaint shop in a bustling city. not unknown but not quite out in the open like the other stalls. the walls would be painted a light blue or gray, shelves would be lined up everywhere like soldiers guarding a palace. antiques from both of your adventures will line up every wooden platform. phainon will welcome the patrons with a smile, dressed in drapes he stole from you because you once teased him for not having any sense in fashion (because in his mind, you were the image of what it meant to fashionable, and what better way to showcase that he was yours than by wearing the garments that showed off your beauty?). and you’d manage the counter, boringly writing down the day's sales, and lecture him for not choosing a more practical job.

phainon would laugh, reach for your hand over the counter and playfully wiggle his fingers in a motion you found weird when you try to dodge his grip. and he’d pout. all his upper muscle slouched on the wooden counter, covering your important papers as he whines, “[name] doesn’t love me anymore!”

and like clockwork, you’d flush to the tips of your ears in embarrassment. you’d smack his face with a rolled up piece of paper, but it does more harm than good. he caught your wrist — strong enough to make you pause but also enough for you to slip away if you really wanted to. but you never do. and that big grin on his face as he rounded the counter is the biggest piece of evidence. you could try to yank your arm back and make a run for it. but as the cogs in your mind were swirling, phainon pulled you closer.

“now you’re trying to avoid me!” he exclaimed. “do you really not love me anymore?”

you take a shaky inhale as you peered up at the man that towered over you. in your frustration of missing that scrawny crybaby from your village, you jabbed a finger at his throat. the sudden shock of your actions has him choking on air and you let out a triumphant huff. you quickly regretted it though. because when you try to take advantage of his distracted state and slip away, a strong arm lets go of your wrist to instead wrap around your waist. now, to your absolute horror, you stand with your back firmly against phainon’s chest.

“come on now, that wasn’t fair.” he whispered lowly into your ear. his warm breath trickled down to the very fibers under your skin — rattling your existence with goosebumps as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck.

“phainon, we are in public. have some decorum.” you huffed out in mild annoyance, but your tone carried no real malice. in fact, phainon took it as an invitation to pull you impossibly closer and continuously whisper a question you’d never think he’d remember.

“what about you [name]? what do you wish for?”

“...”

“i see…”

though you made no verbal reply, phainon understood. he always has. 

“do you think we made a difference?”

“i’d like to think we did,” you’d reply in an instant. maybe too quickly, but you’d digress from the topic if you mulled over it. the shop had turned quiet. no knock at the front door asking if you’re still open. no laughter from the children playing outside. not even a single breeze came to greet the wind chime phainon got for your birthday. it was dead silent. even when the afternoon sky unnaturally bled into dusk, the evening felt dead silent.

you exhaled, ghastly white hand tracing slow shapes on phainon’s arm that remained secure around your waist. through the dimly lit room where you can barely make out the figures of antiques, the ceiling from the floors, from yourself to the warm body behind you — one thing remained constant.

“you never told me where you got this ring from.”

phainon chuckled. his chin resting on your shoulder as his hand cradled your own. a calloused index finger and thumb traced over the gold band on your ring finger. “of all things you can ask, that’s what you come up with?” he teased. but there was little warmth in his voice.

“would you rather ask what cycle we are in now?” 

“...”

“i thought so.”

“you’re unfair.” he mumbled into your shoulder. “i just wanted to be with you — even if it's just in one cycle. is that too much to ask?”

you’d normally say yes. 

across hundreds of centuries — of over thirty-three million, five hundred fifty thousand, three hundred thirty three cycles — you have not given phainon a single chance to be with you. not until now, that is. but even when he ignored the call of destiny, phainon still found himself in the golden city of okhema — not as a hero, but as a lovesick fool who just opened a shop with his lover.

“how many centuries has your injury gone?” you asked, leaned more into his touch as the cracks on the walls began to form. time was running, but surprisingly, you didn't panic. you simply let phainon hold onto you tighter, the fabric on your shoulder felt damp.

“i don’t even know,” he replied, broken and airy. like the last bits of oxygen had been stolen from his lungs and rendered him unable to have one final breath — forced to stay in stagnation where he transcended over any mortal and watched as others died at his feet. 

“phainon,” you called out. a hand rising to plant itself atop his head, caressing his unruly white hair. “what is it that you wish for?”

“but i already told you.” 

“that’s only one of the many wishes you have,” you remind him. “and don’t lie to me. i remember them all.”

surprisingly, he laughed. “you seriously want me to believe that you remember every little wish i make?”

“why not?” you quipped with a raised brow, a challenge. “during your sixteenth, you wished for more sheep at the village so we can have more wool to make clothes. during your hundredth, it was for a better water system because you’d often wake up with your shoes soaked from a leak. during one hundred and twelve — or was it thirteen? — that was the first time you—”

“i wished to marry you. yeah, i remember that one.” he buried his face deeper in the crook of your neck. “how could i not?”

“do you believe me now?”

phainon chuckled again in disbelief. his white hair swayed with the way he shook his head and tickled your cheek. after agonizing minutes of being wrapped in his arms, you’d assume he wanted to mesh you both into one being — one rib to the next, one half for a heart, and a dream that’s always been shared even after thirty-three million cycles.

he finally lets you go after he pressed one final kiss on your shoulder. like magic, phainon no longer wore the clothes he had stolen from your wardrobe. he wore nothing at all — only the cracking of his chest, molten gold, and deep blue.

“i always hated it when you saw me like this,” he confessed. his once delicate and calloused hand had been replaced by coatings of dark matter and divine gold. “when you first saw me, you called me a monster.”

“well what did you expect from me?” you asked in exasperation at the memory. phainon only chuckled as the cracking sounds of the wall grew louder and louder. but you ignore it. how could you find it in yourself to look away when phainon, for the second time, kneeled before you on one knee, his lips ghosting over the finger with your ring.

“i don’t regret it, you know,” phainon murmured into your knuckles. “as long as you’re in it, i can’t find a reason to regret anything. so thank you, for giving me a chance to at least marry you — even if it was a little short lived.”

“everything is short lived when it comes to you.”

you hate this. 

the eerie silence. the waiting. the goodbyes that will be repeated over, and over again. how your voice shakes, the sadness in phainon’s eyes — you hated it more than the pain of having to be buried by the man you loved the most for over thirty-three million cycles.

“don’t cry. it’s going to be okay,” his got off of his knee and stood at his full height. a careful hand unhurriedly wipes away the tears that escaped your perfectly masked face. phainon pulls you closer, his hand still planted at your cheek, as he pressed another final kiss on your lips. this one lingered for a little too long as a loud boom resonated in the distance. 

phainon was the first to pull away, and you hated how you tried to chase after the taste of home.

“i have to go now.”

you hold onto his hand — tighter than yesterday or any of your previous cycles. “i know.”

phainon smiled and pulled you into a final kiss before planting another to your forehead, “let’s meet again.”

“hopefully under different circumstances this time?”

he chuckled and nuzzled your cheek, “under different circumstances. or any circumstance, actually. you know i could never last without at least you once a day.”

“i love you,” you murmured as he pulled away. phainon summoned his sword and left through the decaying front door, but not without throwing one final glance.

“i love you, too, [name]. more than the universe.”

“what about you [name]? what do you wish for?”

the answer was pretty simple. as the sounds of battle raged on outside, as your lover screamed in pain, and as destruction bloomed like spring flowers, you simply sat back down where you normally would in your quaint antique shop. you skimmed through your important papers, and watched as your figure dissipated into small bubbles of light.

“all i’ve ever wished for is for phainon to finally be happy. that will never change.”

© 𝓵ysarion 2025 — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #𝟑❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨]

a/n: i wish my schedule isn't so packed. I've been finding myself wanting to write something outside of ratio (ahem phainon ahem mydei ahem) for once, but unfortunately, that might have to wait. hope you guys aren't fed up with my nonstop ratio content (￣ε(￣)

taglist: @strawbairicake, @naenaex0xx, @silvermah. Anyone who wants to be added, just let me know :D

synopsis — a collection of anonymous accounts testifying Ratio's unusual behavior.

Ratio enrolled himself in a tutoring program. He was assigned to three students, all whom were closely acquainted with each other, from a private high school. One day, the trio were out shopping when they spotted Ratio together with you. Curious, they all tried to tail you both while being as discreet as possible. They got close enough by hiding behind rows of clothes, putting in more effort into their impromptu espionage than their entire academic careers. With their curiosity piqued by how chummy you both seem with each other—by chummy, they actually mean touchy, they prolonged their spying. Eventually, they stumbled across a gold mine of a scene when you were both browsing through the formal wear aisle. One of them managed to pull a successful stealthy maneuver to get even closer and wasted no time devoting their full attention to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

It started with you examining a rose gold satin dress, only to recoil with a frown of discomfort at the low neckline. Your attention shifted to another dress basked in a particularly lovely shade of blue, only for your face to pale at the amount of cutouts. You turn to Ratio and mumble something about wanting to look for a dress somewhere else. 

His response? He perused through the selection and unhooked the dress with the least possible coverage. “This would suit you remarkably.”

The three students could barely contain their shock as they heard his reply. This side of Ratio was one they had never seen nor expected from someone who would display repulsion at the slightest hint of stupidity. You'd think he would deem himself above such flirtatious advances. He even had the audacity to sport a complementary look of contemplation when he said that, as though he had arrived to that conclusion after thorough consideration.

You were effectively silenced by the sheer embarrassment his words evoked from you, and you ended up opting to swiftly spin on your heels with the intention of walking away from his teasing. Ever the observant man, Ratio caught your arm and ushered you to his side, meeting your whine with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Forgive me. While I do mean every word, I realized that the comment might be of poor taste. It isn't my intention to make you uncomfortable." He grasped your shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Allow me to retract my statement and correct it.”

He cleared his throat with a deliberate show of suspense and inclined his head to peer down at you.

“You, my dear, would look best in that.”

Your gaze followed where his finger pointed at.

The students weren't able to take a proper look at what he was pointing at before booking it out of there the moment they heard one of them involuntarily letting out a high-pitched squeal. Once they were a fair distance away, their friends asked her why she got all worked up all of a sudden, and said friend raised her finger in the direction where Ratio had pointed.

Their eyes widened at the sight of a wedding dress displayed in all of its elegant glory at the store across from them.

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #𝟐❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨]

a/n: amphoreus wrecked me. Here's more of ratio to help everbody cope! Reblogs and comments are super appreciated! Also, I'd like to apologize in advance because updates might be slow from here on out. College is horrible, surprise surprise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy it ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

taglist: @strawbairicake, @naenaex0xx, @silvermah. Anyone who wants to be added, just let me know :D

synopsis — a collection of anonymous accounts testifying Ratio's unusual behavior.

One of Ratio's classmates saw him sitting together with you on a bench tucked in one of the secluded corners behind the faculty building.

His body was facing forward, legs crossed, fingers interlaced atop his perched leg. Beside him, you were seen practicing your presentation. Your hands moved in circles, aiming to supply an imagery for what you were painstakingly trying to articulate. Eventually, you lost your flow, and your seamless explanation came to a screeching halt. Your eyes flickered to Ratio's, and your nervousness caught up to you, manifesting into physical reactions visible in your clenched fists and shallow breaths.

Much to the classmate's surprise, Ratio compromised his comfortable seating position and angled his body to better face you.

His hands clasped yours as he urged you to take deep breaths and collect your thoughts. He stayed that way for a long while, and in the midst of his placating gesture, he even made sure to place a hand on your thigh to cease its subconscious bouncing. The two of you exchanged words that were inaudible to this passerby, but just when they felt as though nothing else could surprise them, Ratio grasped your hand with both of his, encasing it like a swaddled blanket, and urged you to redo your presentation. You were halfway into your presentation practice, and his hands hadn't parted from yours.

The classmate left shortly after, their reasoning being that the scene felt too intimate to intrude on.

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨]

a/n: I might post scenarios more often now as opposed to regular shortfics due to my hectic schedule so apologies for that. But even then, I still love to write for this man when I have the time. I also remember that taglist is a thing here so... would anyone like to be added? Let me know and pls enjoy (〃^∇^)ﾉ

It has become a daily occurrence for Ratio to be teased by his coworkers about how utterly smitten he is with his spouse and how he's always giving them the gooey eyes. To nobody's surprise, he retaliates with indignation, so his co-worker pulls out the big guns (read: documented evidence). A phone is shoved into his face unceremoniously, and he is forced to watch as the screen exposes his behavior. 

It was taken during one of their get-togethers that someone begged him to attend. And since he didn't want to expend any precious energy socializing and being chummy with the others, he brought his wife, the approachable and friendly one of the two. You had a blast getting to know his friends from his workplace (“they're not my friends,” he had retorted) and familiarizing yourself with how they perceive him in a professional setting. One thing led to another, and you ended up spewing out anecdotes and recalling memorable moments with him, eventually settling on the topic of how you two met and got married. Ratio saw this coming from a mile away by the way everyone around him buzzed with unadulterated curiosity and enthusiasm, and yet—foolishly, like a man bewitched and ensnared beyond salvation—he listened closely to you. When you recount how he asked you out for the first time, he increased the proximity between you. You were so immersed with your story from the first time he brought up marriage that you fail to notice him becoming glued stuck to your side like velcro. You gushed over your wedding dress to the giggling research beside you, unaware of the violet-haired genius withdrawing a deep intake of breath at the memory of seeing you in that stunning garment for the first time.

Ratio watches as his face in the video morphed into an expression he knew he would never ever wear in front of his fellow peers and students: head inclined towards you, eyelids dropped in a way that softened his sharp features, his arms crossed yet expanded just enough for his elbow to touch yours, and a ghost of a smile caressing his face. Everyone could feel how visceral his yearning was—see it even. He didn't even realize he was wearing his emotions that openly.

You come at the inopportune moment and see this peculiar interaction unfolding, and without a moment’s hesitation, his colleague saunters over to you with said video. When you set your eyes on the screen, your face illuminates with glee, fondness, and awe—amazed at how you could miss such an obvious expression of love from him. And oh so foolishly, Ratio fails to control himself from making the same expression as the one in the video. 

Now, his refutation holds no power against his colleagues’ relentless teasing. The esteemed, stoic and austere Veritas Ratio besotted with his spouse? Without a doubt. The mounting pile of evidence in his colleagues' phone gallery can disprove any pleas of denial.

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #𝟏❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨]

a/n: hello everyone, how is your day going? I'd like to introduce a mini series/collection that I have in store for ratio, depicting unnamed individuals sharing their experience witnessing his dynamic with his s/o, aka you. This is purely self-indulgent and serves as an outlet for the scenarios that have been plaguing my head. I hope you enjoy them. Please excuse any mistakes, whether it's my grammar or characterization of ratio. Any questions about this are more than welcomed. Happy reading ヾ(^▽^*)))

synopsis — a collection of anonymous accounts testifying Ratio's unusual behavior.

An undergraduate working alongside Ratio was introduced to you. It wasn't an out-of-the-blue affair. Ratio hung around them quite often that they were probably the closest thing he has to a friend (sans you, naturally) and this bond was further reinforced due to them being in the same faculty program. The first thing they thought when they saw you was that you're his sister, but when they fail to see the resemblance—and well, stumbling across you both sharing a brief peck—they 've long abandoned that perception. This person confessed that they thought you were student there like them, but it turns out you went to a different university. You didn't even live close to their university.

While they aren't one to discriminate based on education, they couldn't suppress the shock upon finding out that a high caliber scholar like Ratio, who has no qualms pointing out idiocy and mediocrity, had romantic relations with you. What's more is that you two were more or less polar opposites in terms of attitude. He's critical, cynical, repudiates anyone who gets close to him with superficial motives, and couldn't stand the mere sight of idiots (hence the alabaster head), yet you're laid back, easygoing, willing to befriend just about anyone, and struggle to understand even the most basic topics that Ratio studies. Even so, he holds you in such high regard that if he were some kind of program, you would be a VVIP subscriber in possession of all the exclusive privileges. 

One day, they gathered the courage to pose a question to him that roughly translates to: just what do you see in that person? Their speaking mannerism must've given away their underlying bafflement, since Ratio shuts down the question with a click of his tongue and, in his own eloquently brusque way, tells them to mind their own business. They've seen you hang around Ratio quite often, so it was easy for them to form the opinion that you're clingy. Clingy and cheerful, which are traits that they didn't think he would be fond of. This time, Ratio dignifies them with a response. "That's precisely the issue. You don't think."

And just like before, this notion was dispelled when they overheard you telling Ratio to socialize more without your presence, to which he responds with: “I'll keep that in mind. But do know that I won't stop extending an invitation for you to join me.” 

“Oh, c'mon. You should hang out with other people more. What would your peers think if they only ever see you with me?” 

“You are sorely mistaken if you think I have even a speck of regard for their opinions.” 

They conversed with you more following that discovery and threw the questions they've always wanted to ask Ratio at you, taking comfort in the fact that they don't have to fear being pummeled by a chalk projectile or have their confidence incinerated by his scathing words. 

“Do you ever face judgment for dating him?” They started. You responded with a nonchalant nod.

They took your expectant stare as permission to proceed. “And are you bothered by it?”

You cupped your chin with a hum. “A little? Who wouldn't be discouraged by such negativity? But…” The undergrad perked up. “At the end of the day, does it really matter? I know Veritas isn't a shallow man. I won't torture myself with ‘what-ifs’ or doubt just because people can't understand what he sees in me.”

The more they talked, the more this person became aware of just how prematurely they had judged you. You might not have any PhD under your belt or any noteworthy innovations, but in your words: “everyone has a part to play. Veritas has a passion in education and the gift to support it. I have neither. Why pursue something I have no interest in? Besides, aren't diplomas and titles supposed to be concrete evidence of one's competency in their respective field? If so, there's no need for me to undermine their values and liken them to jewelry people hoard just to flaunt them, is there?”

They were starting to see why Ratio could connect with you. Your words, while devoid of his characteristic elegance, resonates with the same brand of wisdom and self-assurance that he carries. Unwilling to bend to people's expectation, acknowledging one's strength and desires, the slight jab at how the world of academia is not that far apart from people vying for prestige as opposed to improving livelihoods.

The mold that incarcerated their capacity to understand you as a person disappeared. Now when they see you and Ratio, they perceive you as you truly are. Someone who's sincerely proud of him as a scholar and as a person. Someone willing to set aside their misgivings over a complex study just to grant him a personal audience. Someone who doesn't reduce him to this unidimensional depiction of an untouchable deity among man, but rather a person with the ability to aid humanity's progression and the earnest intention to see it through. Someone with the guts to rein in his acerbic words when they begin to stray beyond the boundary of what's acceptable. 

For the longest of time, this unnamed student had always seen Ratio the same way most people do—a genius scholar, no more and no less. But as they watch the aforementioned person gaze at you with a spark that shines brighter than when he looks at math equations, they knew that their mindset was in need of a revision. At the end of the day, not even Ratio can stand to resist the lulling notes of love.

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐥❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

a/n: My fixation on this man is no joke. I think I might organize my blog in the future, tinker with my previous posts a bit. Just so that it'll be clean and consistent. Here are more crumbs for the ratio nation. Please excuse any writing errors. Enjoy (^._.^)ﾉ☆

synopsis — the curiosity of Ratio's fellow colleagues are piqued when they see him greeting the arrival of a woman in the rain.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❥ pairing: veritas ratio x reader

❥ tags: humor, romance, fluff, domesticity, rain, acts of service, established relationship, ratio x reader

❥ song inspo: this will be (an everlasting love) by natalie cole

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

The first crackle of thunder dawns onto the gray sky. A canvas once splashed in a vibrant blue hue now benighted by the overcast clouds that heralded a promise of howling winds, torrential rainfall, deafening thunderclap and a potential power outage that would forcibly reel people out of their plane of escapism to face the true horrors of reality.

Ratio finds himself immersed in conversation with a couple of his colleagues. The topic doesn't deviate much from their field of specialty, an idiosyncrasy that clings to them like a second skin—the insatiable ache to always engage in academic discourse no matter the time or place. As much as the doctor often laments about the influx of idiots in his workplace, there are a few moments in between the mediocrity when an idle conversation is shown to have yet blossom into a fruitful exchange.

Researchers and staff members trickle in and out of the establishment, carrying with them an air of haste untouched by the turbulent gloom of the weather. Everyone resume their activities as usual, paying no mind to the rain rapidly pelting the pavement nor did they bat an eye when a burst of light emerge in stripes from above.      

Ratio makes himself comfortable in the couch stationed near the receptionist while his colleagues follow suit, occupying the seats across from him. Terminologies and technical terms flow from their lips in surges, pooling into a fountain that will no doubt confound any passersby. As engrossed as Ratio looks with the conversation at hand, the two men with him can still pick up on the discreet glances he throws at the entrance, as though awaiting for a particular arrival.

"Doctor, forgive me for prying, but is something on your mind?"

Ratio shakes his head, remorse adorned in the lines of his frown and furrowed brows. "Not at all. Apologies, gentlemen. It is not my intention to appear absentminded."

The easygoing one out of the crowd raises a hand in dismissal. "Oh, no. We're not upset, doctor. We were just wondering if you're waiting for something. A letter, perhaps? You seem to receive them often."

Again, Ratio shakes his head again, schooling his expression into his default mien of refined composure. "It's nothing. Let's continue our discussion, shall we? You were just about to elaborate on the mechanisms behind one of your recent projects."

"I would be more than happy to indulge in your curiosity, but should we move elsewhere? The break room, perhaps. It might provide for a more conducive environment than here in the lobby," another suggests and is swiftly met with a chorus of agreement. Except it isn't unanimous, as noted in Ratio's pointed stare at the automatic sliding doors.

The chatters turn abysmal at his distracted state. The stretch of silence dispels his deep rumination, and with a dignified cough, Ratio redirects his attention back to his entourage. "Please, you may go ahead. I'm still... waiting for someone."

If Ratio isn't as abstinent as he is towards public emotional outbursts, he would have burst into laughter at the expressions on his colleagues' faces that all embodied different forms of surprise.

"Waiting for... someone?" One of them parrots back with a bewilderment reminiscent of their early days as a naive, clueless student before becoming a renowned expert in their field.

To this, the erudite doctor hums affirmatively.

The group of colleagues share a look with one another, engaging in a telepathic dispute regarding who would be chosen—or in other words, sacrificed—to ask for elaboration with the high chance of being castigated for their nosy tendencies.

Eventually, the easygoing one concedes. "A-And... Who is this someon—"

Divine intervention befalls onto this willing volunteer as Ratio disregards him entirely, standing up with an unusual disconcerted demeanor. The group devotes their undivided attention to the scurrying figure of Veritas Ratio as he passes the front entrance and grasps the shoulders of someone clad in a raincoat. The umbrella in their hand is extricated, cast aside like a pesky gnat swatted away. Ratio's hands lower the hood, and the sight of a woman nearly sends one of the older ones in the group into cardiac arrest. 

As if the sight of Ratio within close proximity to a woman isn't mind boggling enough, the group takes notice of the woman's appearance, her bare feet, a plastic containing a pair of clean shoes in one hand, and a gray insulated lunch bag in the other. The bits and pieces of information they procured via observation is solid enough to conclude that whoever this mysterious woman is, she weathered the dreadful conditions, risked getting herself sick and struck by lightning, all to deliver someone's lunch. 

"Would you mind telling me why on earth you're walking in the middle of the rain?" The volume of Ratio's voice put even the heavy downpour to shame. 

"I promised you I'd bring you lunch," the woman responds with a nervous chuckle, raising the bag for emphasis—or perhaps to shield herself. 

Not even she is immune to the doctor's scathing personality. 

"I can see that." He guides her to one of the few remaining chairs that were unscathed from the ferocious attack of the torrential rain, his hand pilfering the insulated bag from hers as he makes sure she is properly seated before finally resuming his reproachful tirade. "But that does not explain why you travelled all the way here without a vehicle."

She opens her mouth, but the doctor is quick to interject. 

"No, don't think that a cheeky response will ameliorate this scenario nor will it distract me from the issue at hand. Yes, I brought the car with me, but last I checked, you can order a ride with your phone." 

Left without ammunition, the woman slumps in her seat. 

The weather does little to assuage the tension, merely serving to heighten the severity of Ratio's ire as lightning strikes the sky with impeccable timing. It's as if the heaven above is attuned to this genius' emotions and decides to enact the simmering aggravation at the sight of her having to brave the storm for no good reason. 

"So?" He prods with crossed arms. 

"The price tends to spike up in rainy weathers," she murmurs. "Not to mention, the demands for cars become high as well so either I have to wait a long time to get someone to accept my order or I have to raise the price to have my order prioritized."

Ratio's eyes narrow into slits. "That doesn't answer my question. Why didn't you do it? If you're required to spend more money than usual, then just do so."

"But the money—"

"—is something I have enough of." His glare intensifies exponentially at the flimsy rebuttal of a resource that he deems is far from scarce. It is only when the woman glances down sheepishly does he let the scorching embers of his previous annoyance gradually flicker into oblivion. "Listen... I appreciate your sensibility and aversion to excessive spending, but this is unreasonable. In a bid to maintain your frugal stance, you would risk travelling by foot with nothing but your raincoat and a single umbrella to combat the weather and temperature."

"I took a bus here. I didn't walk from home completely," she mumbles out. The retaliation flees her lips like a frail defense of a cornered debater. What is she even thinking? Actively engaging in a dispute with the man who religiously participates in educational discourse with numerous individuals who share his perspicacity.

Sure enough, those sharp amber hues narrow in disapproval, and if his raised shoulders denote anything, then it's definitely a sign that he's ready to tear her argument apart.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "And yet here you are. Drenched. Trembling like kitten dumped in cold water."

A diminutive noise resembling an apology flutters from her downturned lips. 

As the last traces of anger dissipate, Ratio finally regards her with clemency. "You act as if I don't provide for you." Crimson-gold irises scrutinize the stray droplet cascading down her cheek, the sight compelling him to brush it away instantly with a gentle swipe of his thumb. He lowers himself to meet her eyes, his body assuming a kneeling position.

Ratio's colleagues, who are still very much eavesdropping on the conversation, tune out the interaction that follows. The drastic shift in his attitude fries their brains to the point of causing static noise to fill in their heads—a medium utilized to conjure theories, conflate ideas, and bring said ideas to fruition now pushed to disarray when they see the notorious sharp-tongued scholar acting so... tender. The woman's expression contorts into one of bewilderment, and despite not being able to make out much of her words, they're able to use context clues to surmise that she must be fussing over Ratio dirtying his slacks.

The brief intimate moment fizzles out quickly though, as any traces of tenderness on Ratio's face evaporates.

"Now, take out your phone and order a cab." His tone reverts to the default strident tone he often uses, and he can be seen tapping away on the phone in her clutch. "There. Confirm it. No, I will not accept your protests this time. I have the money; use it."

"O-Okay..." Her finger hovers above the screen, but it doesn't match the speed in which he expects her to move. 

"Don't you dare stall, [name]. Confirm the order. Now."

"I am, I am! Here! Look, it's confirmed!"

A colleague snickers at the spectacle before him, watching the woman frantically fidgeting with the phone while Ratio supervises her from behind. "Now, why does this look like a hostage situation?" He takes a slow sip of his coffee.

"I'm pretty sure this is how the doctor normally acts." Another shakes their head in commiseration for the frazzled woman who is now being on the receiving end of what appears to be an on-brand tongue-lashing from the Veritas Ratio. 

A snort is all they got in response, accompanied by another slow sip.

"Does this mean you're not going to accept my lunch?" Ratio tears away his gaze from his blatantly eavesdropping colleagues to spare her a glimpse, catching the dejection that floods her face.

He shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I might not be keen on your method of delivering this meal, but that doesn't mean I will waste perfectly good food."

Hearing that, the woman gives him a slow nod. His palm that lays on her knee acts as a thawing agent to the frigid surface of her skin. With a smile now adorning her visage, she tucks her fingers under his hesitant ones, silently urging him to set aside his inhibitions. Their gazes meet briefly, and oddly enough, Ratio is the first one to shy away with a visible gulp.

Before the moment can blossom any further than that, a vehicle pulls up to the front of the lobby, and Ratio takes it as his cue to escort the woman to the door. His colleagues decide that there is enough surprise for the day, when they happen to catch her waving at Ratio without signs of stopping even after the car has moved. She's already out of sight before anyone can articulate the confusion her very presence evokes. 

Ratio returns to the assembly of wide-eyed spectators, the lunch box in hand, with a countenance that seems lax enough to be labelled as "bliss".

"We have dawdled long enough. I don't have anymore business here, so let's move to the break room at once, shall we?"

"Uh..." One of them reclaims their composure before they can even formulate anything coherent. "Dr. Ratio... Forgive me for being forward, but who was that?"

This august genius, undeterred by the opinions of common people and unswayed by the menial desires of men, ever so austere yet ever so snide, turns to the one who voiced that query. 

"My wife." Then, he strides away. 

No one left with a cardiac arrest that day, but someone did leave with hot coffee sprayed on their face. 

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭❞ [𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 𝐫. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨]

a/n: just something random that came to me suddenly. I feel quite proud of this one. I made some last minute edits though, so i hope it didn't come out too bad. I might make a compilation for these kinds of scenarios in the future :P

Ratio, while not entirely impervious to the news and happenings that circulate the internet, never once entertained the thought of making a social media account. The idea of creating one—knowing full well that it would most likely be used at a frequency less than the fingers on his hands— was initially suggested by his peers; however, it only came to fruition when you were the one to urge him. Even after he caved in to your relentless pestering, the account collected dust over the years. Its primary use was akin to that of a digital bulletin board for events and lectures held by scholars of great renown; which, to say the least, are things only he took full interest in. The monotonous pattern of his content painted a picture of someone duty-bound to their role as an academic participant and contributor that most people stopped paying attention to his account activity. That mundane streak came to an end by the time he graduated with his fourth PhD.

He reposted your story on social media in that plain account of his that was usually devoid of personal trinkets.

It was a simple picture of him embracing you from the side while your hands were occupied with his mountainous collection of bouquets from both peers and admirers alike. That picture alone was enough to cause a shockwave within the academic sphere, namely his university, but there was more to it. A meticulous observer managed to uncover a secret that would indubitably change how the world perceives this unyielding, rigid genius. On the bottom right corner of his story was a deliberately shrunk sentence, one that read: “Fields such as science and mathematics come hand-in-hand with the concept of a 'constant’—thank you for being mine."

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩❞

a/n : hello, everyone. Sorry for the long period of inactivity. I had exams, unfortunately, so I tried finishing this whenever I had some downtime. I only briefly skimmed it for errors, so sorry if this came out bad. As they all say, no beta we die like the amphoreus characters

synopsis — you take a fall while you're asleep. Talk about falling asleep “literally”. Fortunately for you, your significant other is present to help you with the pain.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❥ pairing: veritas ratio x reader

❥ tags: romance, fluff, mild injury, comfort, domesticity, soothing, established relationship, married, ratio x reader

❥ song inspo: lay down beside you by carl storm

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

In the dead of night, all life submerges into the plane of slumber, following the lead of the descending sun. The moon reclaims the spot of the sun, ushering in a multitude of scintillating dots into the darkening horizon to create a mesmerizing backdrop spanning across the inky canvas. Once the individual specks of glowing globules have taken their position among the empyrean stage, the moon casts its light onto the earth and beckons the crepuscular life forms to emerge from their shelter and attend as silent spectators to the refulgent symphony of celestial bodies.

A stream of light finds their way between the cracks of a curtain, sifting into the space of a bedroom and merging with the tranquility. The quietude is further punctuated by the steady rhythm of breath, unsynchronized yet in tune all the same, from the two figures laying under the bed cover. Ratio faces upright in his slumber, hands placed on top of his torso, in a position that embodies the same rigidity that seemingly always shrouds his form whenever he's awake. You, on the other hand, flaunt little to no grace with your arms sprawled above your head in a poor imitation of the iconic Superman's pose and your legs stretched out. If that isn't enough proof of your restless tendency even when your consciousness is submerged in the depths of slumber, your body rolls over to the side as though dragged by an intangible thread of an unseen puppeteer. Unsurprisingly, once your body tips precariously over the edge, gravity wastes no time doing its job and dutifully hauling you down to collide head first with the cold floor.

A solid thump resounds.

Ratio breaks his posture and regains his cognizance by a feasible amount to groan at the obtrusive noise. His head rotates towards the source of the noise.

It is only when a whimper pierces through the calmness does he eventually jolt awake.

His head peeks over the edge of the bed to assess the noise, and he finds you curled on the ground, placing a hand on your temple where the point of impact is probably felt the most to allay the dull throb. You have your head ducked down, and it doesn't require a significant degree of neuron activation to sense your distress.

"[name]?"

His softened voice is swallowed by the silence with no signs of reciprocation.

He tries again.

This time, the silence offers him a couple rounds of sniffling and a shaky exhale.

Your head finally raises from your makeshift curtain of obscurity, but your eyes are still shielded from view.

"I-I'm okay. Just... Just a minor bump." The tremor in your voice isn't lost on him. And the way you swiftly brush the length of your arm across your eyes discloses the depth of the situation that you seem hesitant to reveal.

Perceiving you in this state churns his stomach to no end. Your voice that usually echoes jubilance and liveliness, now taking on a cracked quality, rattles him more than he can admit. The rejuvenating warmth of a morning sunbeam dampened by the overcast dark clouds, shrouding the world with an unforgiving coldness. That reflects just how you appear to him at the moment. A frown that seems to not fit within the curve of your face; it does not belong there, nor should it ever be.

“Look at me.” His hand seizes your wrist in a gentle grasp. 

Your hand doesn't budge. 

“[name].” 

A whimper meets his staunch tone. 

Finally, he changes his approach, allowing his innate stern demeanor to wash away as he meets your obstinacy with a calming caress right where your pulse thrums under his thumb.

“Look at me… please.”

And at long last, the hand on your face draws away like a window curtain sliding aside to make way for the long awaited ray of warmth. 

“There you are…” His thumb resumes its steady rhythm on your wrist, his intonation subdued out of the rare magnanimity of his heart. 

Your body slouches, and the tension riddling your frame ebbs away like the flow of the ocean tides. “S-Sorry… I didn't mean to wake you up.” You cast your gaze down with a quiet sniffle.

Ratio shelves away his disbelief at your sheepish behavior towards him—your husband, mind you—and redirects his focus on the source of your trouble. Twin flames of amber hue are kept trained on the side of your head that you continue to rub and soothe all while wiping away the slowing flow of waterfall down your cheeks. Without any prodding comments, he helps you climb up the bed. 

“Don't apologize. Instead, tell me. Is it painful? Why are you crying profusely?” 

His tone exudes the usual crackle of his strident mannerism, an educator demanding answers to a quandary in a bid to dispel confusion, yet his touch conveys a different emotion. His palm hovers over the area of your head that your hand cradles, and he presses down to carefully pry it off before resting over it. He looks to the side and focuses on feeling any abnormal bumps or possible bleeding, and fortunately, comes up with nothing.

“You seem to be uninjured.” He assesses, making sure to continue providing you with gentle solace by rubbing it in the same circular motions as before. “Do you feel extreme pain? Please, don't withhold any information. This might be indicative of something severe internally–”

“No, no, no…” You grasp his wrist frantically, running your hand down his forearm with a gentleness that mirrors his, hoping his mind won't jump to the worst case scenario. “No, beloved… I'm just… I was just startled by the fall. And when I woke up, I felt pain, and… and I guess the combination of that and the shock got me to cry. It's not that painful, I promise.”

Ratio doesn't sound convinced, and honestly, you couldn't blame him. Imagine being woken up to the sound of your spouse crying on the floor. That alone is enough to paint a picture of an accident taking place while he was unconscious, and it doesn't help that he was roused abruptly from a deep sleep with nothing but grogginess and the empty space beside him where you should've been present. 

“I'm okay now, Veritas.” You reposition his palm to rest against your cheek, the pain having simmered to a dull throb. “Really.”

A flicker of tenderness crosses his countenance. That stoic veneer that most people have learned to associate him with chips away bit by bit, until he bares himself to you completely, all softened eyes and  upturned lips.

“You worried me,” he mutters as he untangles his hand from your grip, inducing a momentary burst of disappointment in you, before placing it right back on your temple where you fell. The way he glides all over the nearby area, eyes narrowed in undivided concentration as if to thoroughly check your head for any faint swelling. He refuses to accept your words as is without an examination of his own to verify your reassurance. He'll be damned if something terrible does happen to you in the aftermath of this paltry accident all because something slipped past his radar and managed to fester into something worth concerning over. 

Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you did something of this nature. You do have a track record of undermining the severity of an issue that pertains to your own well-being. 

“Veritas… I really am okay,” you whine, but there is no annoyance accompanying it. Any traces of tears left on your face are gone, and so is the tremulous frown.

He keeps his hand on your temple, not letting up in his rigorous search for bumps or unneeded substance oozing out. 

This time, a giggle emerges from the depth of your throat. “Hey…” You tilt your head to the side ever so slightly. “I'm okay, Veritas. I'm okay! You don't have to keep touching my head.”

There is a perceptible tinge of relief that floods his face, and he eventually concedes by ceasing his inspection. 

“Forgive me. I don't want to be remiss in detecting any possible issue.” He raises his other hand to comb through your tousled hair, following a pattern akin to a drifting stream. The weight in his heart dissipates when he beholds your blissful face and the way your locks cascade onto the bed, the place you belong to in this moment of peace.

“I'm okay,” you whisper, voice brimming with gratitude and a whole lot of affection. So much so, Ratio feels like his skin has been hit with a warm breeze that precedes the arrival of spring. “Thank you, Veritas. Sleep now. You have class to teach tomorrow.”

He simply responds by moving his hand from your temple to slither around your neck, pulling you closer and closer, whilst the other hand hangs over the slope of your hip. He only stops once your body is enveloped whole by his arms in a cocoon of comfort, a safety net to prevent a repetition of what happened. 

You're swaddled with a sense of warmth that's familiar and alleviating altogether. You aren't a stranger to these moments of vulnerability and furtive intimacy; when his gaze is bereft of his customary, smoldering judgment and his touches are the furthest thing from sparse or fleeting. But each and every time he bestows this gentle treatment upon you, you are always reminded of the privilege you now hold after that one fateful day of exchanged vows—the delegation of his profound devotion to you along with granting you the title of his sole eternal muse.

You deplore having your movements restricted during your sleep, let alone being caged in a manner that not even your limbs can flail around. Yet, Ratio puts that notion to rest with just a single embrace. You can't determine whether this dilemma arose due to your incapability to adhere to a principle or if that sharp-tongued genius has stellar persuasion skills on top of his already remarkable set of intelligence and talents. 

Regardless of which explanation adequately rationalizes your shift in preferred sleeping habits, you know with full certainty that you don't want to be anywhere else right now. 

“Thank you…” You duck your head and plant your forehead against his lips as lightly as possible, failing to pick up on the upward movement of his lips and the way his eyelids crack open just a tad bit. 

As your arms find purchase around his torso, the tranquil, crepuscular hour concludes its intermezzo, allowing the symphony of nature to lull you back into a restful sleep. 

And when your breath evens out, Ratio opens his eyes.

He exercises immense care when he adjusts his position, regarding your sleep as a matter of paramount importance. His head tips over to catch a good look at your face. The minuscule smile that greets him among the stillness of your content visage is enough to erase any vestigial uneasiness. 

His lips collide with your forehead with nimble force before he finally joins you in his descent into the realm of dreams; his conscience sailing along a peaceful ocean of reassurance, knowing that the stormy clouds have dispersed and the wilted petals of his flower have blossomed anew. 

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨❞

a continuation of my first work, this one being taken from your pov. Thank you for the likes and reblogs on the first one. It warms my heart to see it was received well. As usual, please forgive any writing errors here. Enjoy! (*n´ω`n*)

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❥ pairing: veritas ratio x reader

❥ tags: humor, romance, fluff, domesticity, ratio x reader

❥ song inspo: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) by james taylor

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

➷‌ You waking up in the middle of the night to check on Ratio and finding him asleep leaning against the headboard. While exercising utmost care, you remove his glasses along with the book on his lap and place them by the nightstand. You snuggle back into the sheets but not before pressing a brief kiss on his temple‌

➷‌ Asking him to teach you how to clean his plaster heads, only for him to come home one day to find them all polished and practically glinting from the light‌

➷‌ Wordlessly and discreetly taking the side near the road when you're walking together, this action garnering a dry chuckle from him and a low, husky "how chivalrous"

➷‌ Opening a snack and offering it to him without taking a bite first. Doesn't matter if the snack is something you eat on a daily basis or one you've secured after hours of endlessly searching from store to store, this man has a set of special privileges as your partner, and one of them includes being able to get the first bite

➷‌ Writing down a short note on an origami and folding it into a paper crane before leaving them in random spaces in his study room for him to find‌. Once, he discovered one inside his drawer and the note simply wrote: hi handsome mwah mwah :) He rolls his eyes at the immature message, but he keeps it in his pocket anyways

➷‌ Waking up after a fulfilling sleep and seeing Ratio getting dressed for the day, wearing that familiar assemble of clothing that is elegant, regal, and daring altogether. Disregarding the vestiges of weariness clinging to your bones, you scramble out of bed to help him garb each piece of attire. The flowing white sash draped over his shoulder, the gold owl mask hanging on his shoulder blade, the blue robes he sports over the tight black attire that shows just enough skin for you to question whether it was appropriate for work—your hands arrange every accessory and fabric to emulate a semblance of propriety that reflects the nature of his calibre. Moments like these are the highlight of your day. You get to enjoy the sunlight pouring in through the gaps of the blinds and spend the morning in a quiet, intimate manner before eventually parting for work

➷‌ You consider yourself to be on the frugal side, but when it comes to Ratio, that financial principle crumbles like cookies. The rows of jewelry lined up near the bakery you frequent that never once pique your interest all of a sudden becomes ten times more tempting the moment an important event comes up. As much as you justify that it's for your partner and that it's something celebrated annually, a part of you still wilts at the notion of giving up on purchasing the item you've been wanting to buy for a long time in favor of gifting Ratio something nice. You present it to him the moment he returns home from work, and he freezes up. His stoic veneer tenses and falters before ultimately assuming that tempered gaze of gratitude you've grown accustomed to. And just like that, you're left with zero grievances

➷‌ You temporarily forgetting your lack of athleticism as you run towards a department store teeming with discounts, the first section you visit being the men's as you browse for anything on sale that fits Ratio's preferred style of fashion

➷‌ Whenever he has the time to pick you up from work, you would stop by a full length mirror to fix your appearance, patting down awry strands of hair, brushing away imaginary dust, and erasing any signs of creases on your outfit, wanting to look good for him‌ before finally greeting your lover outside the building

➷‌ Gushing over his muscles and comparing them to the marble sculptures you often see in art museums. You wrap his arm around your shoulders to emphasize just how safe and comfortable they make you feel, but a single thought goes unspoken: Something about him—his beauty, his presence—just can't be captured fully by even sculptors of great renown and immaculate prowess. A sculpture won't be able to do justice to his mere being and splendor. Luckily for you, the real deal is here with you now

➷‌ You make it a habit to compliment him on his research/workout progress because you know that when he thinks you aren't looking, he lets his lips quirk up just a bit‌ at the comment. Even geniuses like him aren't immune to heartfelt praises tailored to point out traits that they're most proud of

➷‌ You can be flippant at times, cracking (terrible) jokes during a serious moment. But if you ever see Ratio solemnly shaking his head at your attempt at alleviating tension with humor, you will shut your mouth, no questions asked. The jokes take a back seat, and you settle beside him, mirroring his pensive expression and allowing the quietness to spread. The last thing you want is for Ratio to think you derive joy from his troubles

➷‌ You've known him well enough to know that he doesn't mean anything malicious when he calls you a dunce. But when you do something that causes him deep distress, he'll ramble about how short-sighted your judgments are, how idiotic it is for you to assume that it's okay to make him fret this much. Perhaps under normal circumstances, you would've retaliated, but Ratio just appears so thrown off, so disturbed, his composure incinerating before your eyes that all you can do is clasp his trembling hands and apologize for worrying him‌

➷‌ You tend to either clutch on his sleeves or hug his arm. It's your preferred way of staying close to him. In some occasions, your hand would weave through the crack between his side and his arm to slip into his coat pocket, withdrawing the moment you think the coast is clear. But then he rains on your parade by telling you to put his wallet back

➷‌ Stealing his cologne and spraying it all over your clothes when you're in a clingy mood. It gets worse when he's away on a business trip for months on end, so the bed (room) usually ends up smelling like him by the time he returns‌

➷‌ Slightly bumping your head against his as a gesture of affection whenever you get the chance. This gesture carries a nice balance of love and playfulness that you decide to keep doing it to him. It makes your heart flutter whenever he does it back. Sometimes, it feels like you're both goats gently headbutting each other, but you try not to dwell on that thought too much. The imagery might make things awkward

➷‌ Breaking off a chunk of food and immediately handing the biggest one to him‌. That mint colored popsicle that comes with a twin set of sticks? You haven't been able to break that thing in half equally so far, but you generally don't mind letting Ratio claim the one with the most portion. He says that it's unnecessary, but if him gently pinching your cheek is anything to go by, he isn't opposed to the special treatment at all

➷‌ You both make the time to reconvene after clocking off from work. You won't say much to each other as the day had worn you both to the bone, but even then, you still find the opportunity to extricate his bag from his hand and playfully nag him for overworking himself. It's a hypocritical move on your part, yes, but it's a tactic you often employ to make sure he won't pry his bag off your grip‌

➷‌ When you're out eating seafood and decide to indulge in some crustaceans. It's difficult enough extracting the soft meat from inside the tough layer of skin, even more to crack the shells to get it. So, once you've managed to scrounge up a decent amount of meat, you transfer it to Ratio's plate. He protests, of course, but you don't stop. "You shouldn't give everything to me. I didn't come here to enjoy the food by myself." He grumbles after promptly swallowing the piece you offered. You respond by giving him even more

➷‌ Being his #1 fan through and through. At some point, you and him came to an agreement that it would be best if you didn't attend his award ceremonies too often because you both know that the moment his name is announced, you'll bounce off your seat and give off a thunderous cry like a football fan whose team had just won. Disruptively supportive, as he likes to put it. And unabashedly so, because when people ask you if dating someone with an intelligence that surpasses yours by a staggering amount makes you feel inferior, you just give them an incredulous look. "He's done so much for the world of academia and the progress of humanity itself. How can I be anything but proud?"

➷‌ Entering the sanctity of his personal study room and plopping down on the floor beside the chair he's seated on, a plushie in your lap as you rest your head on his thigh. He stiffens at the contact, asks you what you're doing, before eventually resuming his task and leaving you be. You bear no intentions of distracting him from his task so you remain stationary where you are. The night wears on, and you soon fall fast asleep, only stirring when a hand lays on your head

➷‌ Showing constant interest in the process of his publications, posing queries about how the idea first came to be, why he chose that particular topic, and even asking for explanations about terms and phrases that are foreign to you. Because of this, it is now a common occurrence for Ratio to come marching towards you at random times with his tablet and reading his draft for his upcoming article. You don't understand half of what the content is about, but in this moment, your attention belongs solely to him

➷‌ There's a folder in your phone gallery dedicated to miscellaneous items relating to Ratio. The order of his books, the manuscript he composed last minute when a spark of inspiration struck him, the golden laurel headpiece he often adorned laying discarded on the bedroom floor, a screenshot of a digital invitation to a nationwide seminar as a guest speaker, the bathwater brand he favors most, and even some rare pictures of him that he took in front of mirrors as per your request. While you like to take the time to create different folders for certain categories of pictures, you personally don't mind a bit of clutter in your phone. But when it comes to him, everything has a semblance of order. If you scroll down enough, one might even see that you had some of his stuff sorted based on dates

➷‌ Ratio takes you out on a spontaneous date to your favorite restaurant and to the beach. You're puzzled, and that feeling only amplifies when he randomly tells you to catch the apple he tossed. You're left pondering over the possible implications that this whole thing entails, but until then, you aren't interested in using up brain energy. You do, however, reach into your bucket to sift through the loot you amassed from mindlessly frolicking around the beach. A shell emerges into Ratio's line of vision, a perfect blend of colors with a defined conch shape and boasting a surface devoid of cracks—undoubtedly the best looking one in your pile. He raises his brows curiously when you hold it out for him, and you simply smile. "My favorite shell for my favorite person."

➷‌ Waiting in line at an establishment during a particularly busy day, and you're both left to your own devices. Without much to do to endure what might be an hour long wait, you take out your earphones and tuck the left one in Ratio's ear. After relinquishing the piece with the best sound quality, you also hand over your phone to him, allowing him free reign over the music being played. You plop your head on his shoulder as your consciousness slowly drifts off to the blissful melody of your wedding song

[axolotsofluv]

❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮❞

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing here in tumblr. I'm still unfamiliar with the mechanics so forgive me if the format looks a bit plain ;-; This is also my attempt at challenging myself to write romance and capture intimate, domestic moments without excessively using kisses/hugs. Please excuse the writing mistakes here. Hope anyone reading this enjoys! (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❥ pairing: veritas ratio x reader

❥ tags: humor, romance, fluff, domesticity, ratio x reader

❥ song inspo: to the bone by pamungkas

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

➷ Him spooning you and covering your ears during a thunderstorm knowing how sensitive you are to the startling noise

➷ Extending a hand towards you out of reflex whenever you're seen bounding towards him, as though ushering you closer and not allowing a single millimeter of space to fester between you

➷‌ Him immediately sliding over his meal of choice to you when he catches you openly staring at it. You point at it and sweetly ask him if you could have a bite, and when he complies, he doesn't take it back until you are satisfied

➷ His firm tone when he chastises you for picking the cheapest option on the menu, repeating the phrase he often uses in situations like these: "I'm paying. Now, perish those thoughts and choose what you truly want". As you place your order, he notices that your current option was the second cheapest meal on the menu. This stunt garners his disapproving stare, and you eventually cave in from the pressure and order what you really want

➷ He doesn't partake in PDA often, or much at all, but people aren't oblivious to the way he tends to shift most of his body weight towards you when you're around just so his skin can make contact with yours or the way he seeks out every opportunity to touch you, whether it's a simple shoulder tap or a poke at your forearm (bro must have you within at least a meter radius, further than that and he'll pull you closer to him)

➷ ‌In the early stages of your relationship, he noticed that you frequently hold his bag for him, which was a gesture more commonly practiced by men. Not wanting your considerate gestures to go unreciprocated, he now takes the initiative to carry your belongings for you whenever you're out together. His arms now serve as a multifunctional tool for you to either hang your belongings on or latch onto when you're afflicted with a sudden bout of neediness

➷ Never turning down an opportunity to touch your hair. He sees a leaf on your hair? His fingers are already working on removing it. Not only that, but he goes the extra mile by also brushing your hair. He sees a few stray hairs sticking out? His palm swiftly mats it down with gentle, methodical swipes. You wonder why his hand lingers for more than a minute, but you make no attempts to stop him ‌

➷ Your arms are his stress ball. Whenever he catches you doing something cute, be prepared to have your upper arms seized and squished to oblivion. He's done it so often to the point that it developed into a habit. It wasn't until one of his acquaintances pointed it out did he realize it had long gone past the point of habit and into the territory of involuntary behavior. He'd do it even when he's ticked off by what you did/say that at this point, the line between cuteness aggression and sheer aggression is blurred‌

➷ Reflexively holds your hair back whenever you lean over something, especially food. He can tell when it's about to happen by the spark in your eyes and by the time your body tips over to gain a closer look at the object of interest, his lithe fingers shoot out from their previous position at breakneck speed to prevent the falling strands from getting dirty

➷ Those lips that are prolific in spouting soul-crushing, confidence-tearing remarks become pliable crescents whenever you speak. Even if the contents of your mindless ramblings are something he deems nonsensical, inane, and even outright idiotic, a smile will inevitably worm its way up his face. Additionally, as much as he enjoys teasing and berating you (lightheartedly), there is nothing that sates his senses more than your gleeful laughter every time he comes up with a clever quip or a bestows you with adulations. He's not one for sugar coating, but he'd be lying if he said your mirthful reactions aren't enough incentives for him to start doing so

➷‌ Always knows instinctively whenever you're confused by a term or saying, by that pursed lips of yours and the way you stare up at him with a distraught look as if fearing that admitting your incomprehension will garner his or his peers' disdain. When he spots these telltale characteristics of befuddlement, he will draw himself closer to your ear and explain to you in a voice as smooth as silk, yet as soothing as the nightfall breeze, with words meticulously formulated to aid you in obtaining a general scope of what's being discussed. Your apologies are met with a swift rebuttal as he assures you that it was best to be forthcoming about one's lack of knowledge than to feign understanding

➷‌ Him being extra careful with his words when you need his candid input. He goes the extra mile to mince his words when he would usually show no hesitation dishing out insults like flyers. You would ask him for his thoughts on an outfit, and he'd reply "do you want me to be completely honest?" At this point, you had resigned yourself to an inevitable fate of being on the receiving end of his critical and straightforward dissection as he picked on each and every visible flaw, supplying concrete alternatives to mitigate the mistake but not before bashing you for your poor taste. To your surprise, however, he actually... held back? Instead hearing something like "even the most mediocre of minds know not to go for this color scheme. Pray tell, is your goal to be presentable or a laughing stock?"; he goes: "The color of your top clashes with your shoes; perhaps, you can try this instead." or even something simple like "That won't do. You can achieve more with this instead."

➷‌ Watching a movie together and he sees your quivering lips, hears a whimper, and catches the indignant wipe of your eyes. With a sigh, he opens his arms for you to leap in to and make a mess of his freshly ironed shirt

➷‌ "Tell me why!" You angle an imaginary mic at his face, watching closely and expectantly. He breathes out an exasperated sigh, mutters something about your maturity, and then finally says the following line with a delivery somehow more monotone than gal gadot: "ain't nothing but a heartache..." It takes a year off his lifespan every time you initiate these spontaneous karaoke sessions, but he supposes that having the lifespan of a mosquito is worth it if it means seeing you burst into a fitful laughter

➷‌ As much as he finds solace in the moments shared between him and you, Ratio also relishes the times he is able to enjoy a good book and delve in his own ruminations. However, in the rare instances you show even the slightest bit of interest in what he's keeping himself preoccupied with, he'll scooch over to make room for you. No words are exchanged or needed. The moment you accept the silent invitation and the proximity amplifies, Ratio's arm rests around your shoulders like a seat belt securing you to his side before you both eventually embark on an academic journey together

➷‌ There's nothing that robs him of his composure more than when you say "thank you" and bat your lashes at him, playing coy. It sends his heart thumping wildly and engulfs his face in a disarming sense of warmth. It makes him weak—he knows it, you know it. He chases that high by making himself available whenever you're immersed in a task that he knows will require his assistance

➷‌ It's public knowledge that Ratio's productivity and looks can be ascribed to his habit of waking up early. He utilizes the time to read a page or two from his book, exercise, gather his bearings, and prepare himself a balanced meal for breakfast before he would eventually tackle his arduous day-to-day routine as both an educator and a scholar. But now, his morning routine undergoes a bit of change. The steaming cup of coffee becomes two cups. The table is occupied by two separate plates instead of one. And once all that is done and over with, he goes back to bed to wake up his other half

➷‌ You run to him, frantic, acting like the apocalypse is nigh, frazzled and distraught beyond words and he just points to the vanity without a single scathing comment, unfazed to the point of blase. You grab your missing phone with a hop in your step and thank him. The next time you do it, he just goes, "have you tried looking in the drawer?" Wallet found, breakdown averted

➷‌ When he laughs at your jokes (he actually doesn't; on a good day, the most you'll get is a faint, airy snort while the second best is just a blank stare) ‌

➷‌ When he puts his book down, tucks a bookmark between the pages, and ultimately relinquishing his source of entertainment to listen to whatever you have to say, trivial as he may claim it is

➷‌ When he calls you by a term of endearment and doesn't shy away from regarding you with light touches in front of people, despite being fully aware of how this would impact his professional life. This impact being employees gawking at him for actually having a love life, close peers teasing him for being a sap, and even a few brave students approaching him to offer him their best wishes (and surprise because, as a brazen student of his once said: "someone as prickly as him can get together with someone? damn")

➷‌ Even in the aftermath of a recent conflict, he keeps the door to his study room unlocked. He might not say a word to you due to his lingering annoyance, but at the end of the day, he wouldn't (correction: could never) turn you away if you come looking for him

➷‌ Gaining the doctor's interest is a monumental achievement as he is someone with a penchant for knowledge and discoveries that most people will take years to understand. Yet somehow, a simple text from you is all it takes to keep his attention riveted to his phone. If anyone ever sees his vision glued to his screen as though he has just seen someone solve simple addition incorrectly, they'll know who's responsible

➷‌ When he takes you out to your favorite restaurant and brings you to the beach at evening to watch the sunset, knowing how much this kind of scenery soothes your soul

➷‌ When he tosses an apple towards you while you were off collecting seashells, only for it to land on your lap, earning a dissatisfied grunt from him as he chides you for not catching. He retrieves the apple and tosses it again. You try to play it cool when you manage to catch it the second time, but it's hard not to get giddy when you see him with the biggest smile on his face

[axolotsofluv]

I'll be going on a self reblog spree guys, sorry in advance for the inconvenience ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠

[axolotsofluv]

「𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨!」

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