Aventurine and Ratio meet for the first time in high school, and they’re inseparable. But when Aventurine is invited to join an exclusive school club — the Ten Stonehearts — while Ratio is left on the sidelines, nursing a secret feeling that goes beyond friendship, their bond begins to fracture… until it breaks completely.
Three years later the balance has shifted: Ratio shines while Aventurine feels adrift. But history tends to repeat itself, and when a reunion brings them face to face, the past is never buried.
A HighSchool/University!AU - set in a modern retelling of “Honkai: Star Rail”’s world
Rating: E
Chapter: 1/4 - Singspiel
Words: 10k / 40k
No archive warnings apply
Main tags: Top Dr. Ratio / Bottom Aventurine | Hopeful Ending | Sexual content | Sex with feelings | Soft Dr. Ratio | Aventurine is bad at feelings
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(This is Part I of Anthology, a Ratiorine series of short stories I might include in my own fics in the future.)
Aventurine returns home from his work by bus. He has a call with Ratio.
Or, on cat videos
Now the shift is over, and outside the air is soaked with the smell of rain, and some people run under the arcades while others snap their umbrellas open; slash, cries the puddle under the heel of an old woman clinging to a young girl’s arm. Click. He’s forgotten to ask Ratio what kind of onomatopoeia he might use to describe the leaf-in-the-wind chirring made by the lighter’s faint flame.
No, the taxi won’t wait for him. It’s probably stuck somewhere in traffic, and he wants to smoke and walk, walk in the rain. It was raining in Sigonia when his sister’s scream tore open the horizon, as if calling on the Goddess Gaiathra, whatever his name was at the time.
Sometimes he thinks he’ll forget his own name when nothing makes sense anymore. He’s close to that point, he’s sure. The thought chases itself around his skull, deafening: that nothing makes sense already, if he just tilts his head and looks through the scattered puzzle pieces. Words lose their meaning when you repeat them too many times. Maybe the same thing happens to the meaning of everything else, more broadly. And with names, too.
In the grand scheme of things, he’s just a fleck in the universe. Lucky, barely—a fleck in the universe.
Slow steps, heavy, automatic, stubborn. What exactly is he running from? Last week Ratio was here, carrying an umbrella, shielding him. He wants to feel the drizzle on his cheeks, at least a little. What’s it like to take public transport? To do normal-person things, like studying for a degree? What’s it like to talk on the phone with a father, a mother, a brother? What’s life like when you’ve guessed right about everything, made the right choices, been the genius—like Ratio says?
His appearance is foolish, but that way of living attracts him. He plays a game: today nothing equals nothing.
Cold air replaces a sticky, almost gloomy warmth. The bus floor is smeared with muddy footprints and the air in here smells more like asphalt than outside. Confused faces, lost in the void, chasing the gleam reflected in the window. Aventurine stays standing: he wants to look at all of them. The bus isn’t even half-full. On a student’s phone: cat videos, scrolling. Cats are such wonderful creatures.
“Hello? Aventurine?”
“I saw the missed call. What’s up?”
On the phone, Ratio doesn’t sound very convinced.
“Where are you?”
“On the bus.”
“The bus…?” A pause. “You?”
“What, me?”
“Never mind. Listen, I couldn’t say it earlier because you caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to react, and honestly you didn’t seem that sure when you said it. I’d rather talk about it face to face. I want us to keep this thing going too.”
“Fucking?”
“No—not… not sex. It’s different for me. And maybe for you too, you just don’t realise it.”
“Alright. Yeah, maybe it is for me too.”
“Can I come to your place?”
“Sure. Yeah, come over.”
The bus doors open onto the neighbourhood, where he recognises the communist graffiti scrawled over the IPC logo. One hop and he’s off. The rest of the walk to his building is like the frost on a windshield at dawn.
In his mind the vivid memory is not Ratio’s words, not the rain on his cheeks, not the old woman’s heels hitting the puddle. Not the cigarette he stubbed out right after lighting it again, not the stink of alcohol in the pub on Saturday night, not the breath of the drunk who assaulted him; not Ratio’s hands on his hips.
Vivid is the cat he saw on that girl’s phone screen.
He collapses on the bed with his jacket still on. I’m there in half an hour, Ratio’s message reads—forgotten as soon as he reaches the first, then the second, then the third cat video.
Veritas pauses, breathing into him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Keep going.”
“You like it?”
“Does it look like I don’t?” And then he kisses him again.
It is a body all his own, steeped in bitter nihilism and in vain hopes; yet still, it is his. And Veritas makes sure he knows it, even as their mouths meet open and insistent, tongues searching, and Aventurine understands when the only thing left to do is to clasp him tight, legs around his hips, arms over his shoulders.
— 🖋️
A HighSchool/University!AU - set in a modern retelling of “Honkai: Star Rail”’s world
Rating: E
Chapter: 3/4 - Adagio - End of ‘Entr’acte’ (next is an Extra)
Words: 30k / 40k
No archive warnings apply
Main tags: Top Dr. Ratio / Bottom Aventurine | Hopeful Ending | Sexual content | Sex with feelings | Soft Dr. Ratio | Aventurine is bad at feelings | Friends with benefits
[Made for myself and myself only… I have a nicotine addiction]
--- 💨
If he were to trace the beginning of his smoking habit, he would start with the most obvious thing: the first time, like everyone else, he tried smoking a cigarette from the filter.
— how stupid. Well, perhaps failing to understand the operating principle behind a tabacco and nicotine bomb would have stopped him from lighting it in the first place. If that had happened, who knows how his lungs would have been preserved.
The second problem: Aventurine is an addict.
He has tried everything, but he mostly likes Marlboro Gold Packs and Lucky Strikes (the latter for the name, obviously). Lately he has started buying pouches of loose tobacco, not for the price—it is clear he doesn't care about spending a lot on cigarettes, though even if he did, he would smoke anything.
Tobacco, weed, hashish—the latter, without a shadow of a doubt, only if he is at home: he has already had the experience of being high in a public space, and it went terribly.
The very act of rolling a cigarette, of putting in just a little tobacco to make the hand-rolled cigarettes as thin as the barrel of a gun… the act itself already brings him pleasure, making inhaling smoke and therefore ingesting nicotine secondary actions. The point isn't the tranquility he feels when he smokes a cigarette, but the ritual he has created through them.
He smokes a lot when he is stressed, sure, an instinctive action, and he also smokes when he doesn't need to because the problem is that he likes smoking as much as he likes fucking. Smoking is part of his daily life and all his actions, and when he is having sex, lighting a cigarette becomes a must.
With Ratio, for example, he longs to ride him while looking him in the eyes. The smoke disperses around him like clouds of thought, accompanied by occasional moans of pleasure. He doesn't know that Ratio is haunted by the sight of his eyes glowing in the dark, amidst those clouds of smoke. Smoking kills, that much is true, but the way Aventurine looks when he does it makes him as sublime as he is dangerous.
Naturally, Ratio tells him to quit smoking.
What stops him from smoking inside the house isn't so much the stench or the obligation to open the windows, whether he has an ashtray or uses the coffee mug that always accompanies them; his cats are the problem. He isn't stupid, he is aware that secondhand smoke is harmful, and he has no intention whatsoever of passing it on to the creatures he loves most in the world.
So, at least at home, he started navigating the world of e-cigarettes.
Depending on the price, there are different strength levels of nicotine. He had no problem buying liquids with 24mg of nicotine. This way, without the tobacco, his head hurts more and his throat less, but he can fix the former with a painkiller, whereas against cancer there is only one remedy. Death.
“The total amount you spend on e-cigarette liquid, added to the packs of cigarettes, filters, and rolling papers—setting aside weed, which is another story—is enough to buy a hardcover book. You know that?”
That is what Ratio told him. Aventurine responded with a laugh, because in truth, the real reason is more complex to explain.
If he didn't smoke, those fifteen minutes of morning ritual, coffee in hand, which allow him to be alone and start the day, wouldn't exist. If he didn't smoke, there would be no moments carved out for himself. If he didn't smoke, he wouldn't even possess that fleeting satisfaction of slowly killing himself by his own hand, without the intervention of a corporation, an enemy, or a doctor.
At least this death, he can still decide for himself.
[An AU in which Aventurine is a the lead photographer for Veritas Ratio’s — the most featured boxer of the decade — boxing matches as per his agency’s request. Set in a modern retelling of Honkai: Star Rail]
TRIGGER WARNINGS
- Mild sexual content;
- Blood;
- Mild use of violence.
📸;
The click of the camera shutter chased the splatter of blood that caught his glasses and the tips of his ash-blonde hair. Aventurine took a step back, instinctively raising a hand to shield himself a beat too late.
On the canvas, panic erupted instantly. It took three burly men to hold the boxing champion back—barely enough to arrest the last of a dozen punches driven into his opponent’s nose. By then, his knuckles were drenched in crimson, his gaze painted with a sharp, petulant ferocity.
Aventurine stood frozen, breath hitched, eyes wide. Beside him, his assistant was trying to pull him away by the arm—"Let's get the hell out of here."
"Freeze!" the trainer's shout cut through, followed by a cacophony of jeers, screams, and mocking laughter. As for the opponent, he must have passed out cold.
He couldn't move. He watched the world unfold in slow motion: first Ratio, wrestled down by the men and escorted from the ring, then the trail of blood that followed in their wake. He had stepped into the ring without gloves, intent on destroying that man with his bare fists. Just another day's work for the most sought-after boxing champion of the decade.
"Hey, you. Take the spare gauze to the medical staff."
The *why* of it all still eluded him. Prompted by his own volition, Aventurine moved, dropping his camera gear and glasses into the equipment box. He ignored his assistant’s frantic questions. He only stepped into the locker room when he was absolutely certain Ratio was alone.
Click.
With the door locked, he looked at Ratio from behind. The champion was hunched over his blood-stained fists, his bare torso mapped with a stark, undeniable web of scars.
"What do you want?"
"I came to bring you gauze," Aventurine explained.
"Playing doctor now, are we?"
"Just making sure you’re alright."
"I’m fine," Ratio snapped, his tone laced with acid.
He turned, and their eyes finally met. A shiver rippled down Aventurine's spine. Taking a breath, he walked around to face him, finally sitting down by his side.
"You’re going to be suspended for what you did," Aventurine stated. "Was it worth it?"
"I don't know. He was getting on my nerves," Ratio said, holding out his hands. "He kept spouting bullshit about me."
Aventurine looked up, freezing with the gauze suspended mid-air. "Like what?"
Ratio didn't answer. He simply stared at him. Then, down at the gauze. "Your hands are cold."
Small and delicate, Aventurine’s hands cradled those of the boxing champion. Gripping them tightly, Ratio hoisted them up until the back of the photographer's hand rested a mere two inches from his mouth. Even his lips were bleeding—chapped, and utterly beautiful. Aventurine thought back to Ratio's battered appearance, to the blood that had ended up on his own glasses and hair. And he smiled. Before Ratio could kiss his hand, Aventurine pulled it toward himself, mirroring the gesture.
Tilting his head to the side, he slipped his tongue out, brushing it against the tips of the bloody knuckles. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and raised his eyes, making sure not to miss the slightest flicker of a reaction. As the fighter's expression turned uncertain, a smirk carved itself onto Aventurine's face, and he began to lick.
A metallic tang flooded his mouth, sharp and laced with the bitter sting of sweat. It was clear Ratio couldn't bring himself to stop him. The champion's grip tightened around his hand, and the more Ratio pulled back—however involuntarily—the more Aventurine pressed forward, straddling his way along the bench.
A distinct erection was tracing itself against Ratio’s shorts. It was only then that he shoved Aventurine back. A soft whine escaped Aventurine, caught somewhere between pleasure and discontent.
"You’re... sick," Ratio muttered, touching his own hand as if to cover it. "Stay away from me."
But his breath was ragged. Aventurine's smirk widened, and he gripped the edge of the bench, grinding closer.
"You're no better," Aventurine murmured. "You thrashed that poor man because I fucked him, didn't you?"
Ratio flinched. With a swift, violent motion, he stood up, stormed out, and left Aventurine alone, slamming the door behind him.
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“You have the softest lips,” Aventurine murmurs between kisses, the tone light, casual. “You even kiss well. A genius, like always.”
Veritas believes the opposite. His lips tremble, but when Aventurine wraps his arms around his neck, his fear seems to fade away. His best friend moves slowly, giving him a chance to get used to it. Aventurine may be a virgin, but Veritas thinks, albeit reluctantly, that he's not his first kiss. He knows kissing isn't just passively pressing lips together; it's opening the mouth and rocking the head from side to side while relaxing the jaw. Kissing means melting. It is the ultimate form of cannibalism.
A HighSchool/University!AU - set in a modern retelling of “Honkai: Star Rail”’s world
Rating: E
Chapter: 2/4 - “Accarezzevole”
Words: 20k / 40k
No archive warnings apply
Main tags: Top Dr. Ratio / Bottom Aventurine | Hopeful Ending | Sexual content | Sex with feelings | Soft Dr. Ratio | Aventurine is bad at feelings
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i collaborated with enigmaticfool on ao3 on a new ratiorine work! i made some art and they wrote a lovely fic to go along with it, which you can read here.
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