#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ︵ aventurine. ‿ little peacock.

[aventurineswife]

Hi! Another beloved parenting request (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

Basically the reader and the character(Aventurine, Sampo, Childe And dr.Ratio) have a 4 year old son who one night has a nightmare and asks both of them if they can sleep with them in the middle, In short the child sleeps with both parents. Take all the time you want with this, I mean it all! (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪

-💤🩵 anon

Safe Between Us

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Childe x Reader, Fluff, Domestic Life, Parenting, Comfort/Wholesome Moments, Nightmare Comfort, Soft Relationships, Family Bonding, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Mentions of Nightmares (non-graphic), Mild Emotional Vulnerability, References to Past Trauma.

A/N: Someone's a bit obsessed with a certain hydro character here ahem ahem, can't blame you if I'm obsessed with a certain gambler here ahem ahem 🧍‍♀️ also Renny is used for gender neutral term of parent since it would've been weird if the child called you parent

The quiet hum of the city outside your window was a faint backdrop to the stillness of the room. You were beginning to drift off to sleep when you heard the sound of small, hurried footsteps padding down the hall. Moments later, a little voice called out, trembling with fear.

“Papa? Mama/Dada/Renny?”

You sat up immediately, your heart clenching. Your four-year-old son stood at the doorway, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes brimming with tears. Clutching a small stuffed peacock—Aventurine's ironic gift—he sniffled.

“I had a bad dream,” he whispered. “Can I sleep with you and Papa?”

Aventurine, who had been lounging on the bed, glanced at the child. His ever-present enigmatic smile softened. “A nightmare, hmm? Well, dreams are just gambles in our sleep, aren’t they? Sometimes you win, sometimes you don’t. But tonight,” he said, patting the bed, “you’ve hit the jackpot, little man.”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrical explanation but moved aside to make room. Your son climbed into the bed, nestling himself between the two of you. Aventurine adjusted the covers with an exaggerated flourish, ensuring his boy was snug and warm.

“Tell me what scared you,” Aventurine said softly, his voice losing its usual playful edge. He reached out, brushing a few stray locks from your son’s forehead.

“There were… monsters,” your son murmured, curling against your side. “And they wanted to take me away.”

Aventurine’s smile grew tight for a moment—a rare crack in his facade. “No one’s taking you anywhere,” he promised, his tone firmer now. “Not while your parents are here.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to your son’s temple. Aventurine mirrored your gesture, his gaze meeting yours briefly. It was in these quiet, vulnerable moments that his guarded mask slipped entirely, revealing the man beneath.

As the three of you lay there, the child’s breathing grew steady, his fears banished by the warmth and love surrounding him. Aventurine murmured a soft, “Goodnight,” his hand lingering protectively on your son’s back. For once, there was no gamble, no risk—just family.

The air was cool, and the soft glow of the moon filtered through the curtains as you and Sampo settled into bed. His mischievous grin, as usual, hadn’t faltered even after a long day. But the peace of the evening was soon interrupted by the sound of your son crying out from his room.

Both you and Sampo bolted upright, exchanging a quick glance before hurrying down the hall. You found your four-year-old sitting up in his bed, his eyes wide with fear and tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey there, champ,” Sampo said, crouching beside him. “What’s got you so spooked?”

“I—I had a bad dream,” your son stammered, his small hands clutching the blanket. “Can I sleep with you and Mama/Papa/Renny?”

Sampo’s playful grin softened. “Of course you can. What kind of dad would I be if I said no to my favorite little guy?”

Carrying your son back to your bedroom, Sampo made a show of fluffing the pillows and tucking him in. “Alright, bud,” he said as your son settled between the two of you, “you’re in the safest spot in the world now—between two top-tier protectors.”

“Papa,” your son whispered as he clung to your arm, “are you sure the monsters can’t find me here?”

“Monsters?” Sampo chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Not a chance. Besides, if they tried, I’d outsmart them in a heartbeat. You’ve got a merchant dad, remember? I’d sell them some fake monster repellent and send them running!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. But it worked—your son giggled, the fear melting from his face. Soon, he was fast asleep, snuggled between you and Sampo.

Sampo leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple. “See? Problem solved. My charms work on everyone.”

The house was silent save for the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the shore outside. You were just drifting off to sleep when a tiny knock came at the bedroom door.

“Come in,” Childe called, sitting up immediately. The door creaked open to reveal your four-year-old son, clutching his blanket tightly.

“Papa… Mama/Dada/Renny… I had a bad dream,” he said, his voice shaky. “Can I sleep with you?”

Childe was out of bed in an instant, kneeling to scoop the boy into his arms. “Of course, little one,” he said, his tone soft and reassuring. “Nightmares can’t hurt you when we’re here.”

Your son nestled against Childe’s chest as he carried him back to the bed. As the child crawled into the space between you, Childe tucked the blankets securely around him. “What was the dream about?” he asked, brushing his fingers through your son’s hair.

“There were… shadows,” your son whispered. “And they tried to take me away.”

Childe’s jaw tightened briefly, but his voice remained calm. “Shadows, huh? Well, they don’t stand a chance against us. Your parent and I are the strongest team there is.”

He glanced at you, his eyes softening as he reached over to take your hand. “We’ve got him, right?”

You nodded, smiling. “Always.”

Your son’s breathing slowed as he relaxed, lulled by the warmth and safety of your embrace. Childe watched him for a moment, his hand resting protectively on the boy’s back. “I’ll never let anything happen to him,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

The soft glow of the night lamp illuminated your room when the faint sound of sniffles reached your ears. Moments later, your four-year-old son appeared at the doorway, his small frame trembling.

“Mommy/Daddy/Renny… Daddy… I had a bad dream,” he said, clutching his blanket. “Can I sleep with you?”

Ratio adjusted his glasses, his intense eyes softening as he looked at the child. “A nightmare?” he murmured, rising to kneel before him. “Dreams are merely the mind’s way of sorting chaos. Let’s bring some order to this, shall we?”

You smiled as Ratio scooped the boy into his arms, his scholarly tone transforming into something gentle and warm. “Come,” he said, settling the child between you. “There is no safer place than here.”

As your son curled up, Ratio placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Tell me what frightened you,” he urged.

“There were big, scary shapes,” your son whispered, his voice muffled against your chest. “And they were chasing me.”

Ratio nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, shadows. A product of fear and imagination,” he explained. “But fear loses its power in the presence of love and knowledge.”

Your son’s eyes fluttered closed as you and Ratio soothed him with quiet reassurances. “Sleep now, my little prodigy,” Ratio whispered, his hand lingering protectively on the boy’s back. “Your dreams will find clarity, and we will always be here to guide you.”

[sumerus-little-sprout]

Hes REALLY like papas friend.

Aww, thanks! And..and it was a joke! I'm not straight either.

Nobody's straight in this nation

Well, well, another blog, hm~?

“Collei” is it? Well hello there, dear.

Care to…make an acquaintance?

It will only be me, although…you have never met me, so I suppose that is no consolation. My apologies, possible-new-friend, I only find myself in want of something to do.

-@golden-luck-of-pure-curses

// Aven-Collei! Oooh, Col looking at his page then…I don’t know, impulsively asking him if he’s trans—or something? Up for it? Your choice on how! I need (/lh) my rp Aven to mention his trans-ness more often (am I too obsessed with it? …maybe)

Hello Mr....Person!

Mr. Aventurine! That's a...strange name! Are you asking me if we could be friends? Maybe not yet..lets just keep talking, and then I can decide! My dads told me not to trust random strangers on the internet after dad got scammed for a joke dictionary

[ultimate-blorbo-collector]

Imagine Aventurine with a fem s/o with much less colorful clothes because of the whole peacock thing. Peahens have black, brown, and white feathers with a little bit of blue/green on their necks, so s/o with a mostly black, brown, and white color palette with a necklace to match Aventurine would be low-key cool.

With this logic, though, masc s/o's gotta be just as flashy.

[blood-orange-juice]

Have you noticed how Aventurine has all the attributes of a proper epic hero?

Special Circumstances Of Birth, for example. If you look at world mythology, the hero is usually a descendant of a god or blessed by a god, and their birth is accompanied by some rare natural phenomena.

A tragic event forcing him to leave his home and shaping his goals.

An exceptional talent that comes naturally to him and separates him from other mortals.

The way he wins allies through skill and cunning. One of the best moments of 2.1 is when you realise IPC colleagues haven't thrown him to the wolves, they are rolling along with his insane plan. They trust him.

(this whole story he is, in fact, surrounded by allies and helped by them)

There's probably something else but I forgot.

Not usually a trait of an epic hero (usually required for a modern one though) but there's an ideal he strives to achieve. I loved his reason for joining the IPC.

Then there is that whole descent to the underworld thing. I'll be surprised if we don't see him again. And this is where it gets interesting.

I could brush this off as a hero's journey trope but, considering the illusory nature of Penacony, maybe he's more of an orphic hero than an epic one. He's also fragile and tragic in a very orphic way, unlike a proper hero.

Orphics believed in a cycle of reincarnation that could be escaped through their rites. The world was seen as a place of suffering and mortal goals as irrelevant.

Characters of Orphic myths do not return triumphantly from the land of the dead to smite those who wronged them. Their deities lose and are forever changed but get to move on in other forms (Persephone, Zagreus), their heroes acquire little apart from knowledge.

These are stories of surrender, acceptance, and transcendence and if any power is gained in the process it's through discovering or establishing different rules for the world and the characters themselves.

(oh, and probable ethymology for Orpheus' name is that it is derived from a hypothetical PIE root *h₃órbʰos — 'orphan, servant, slave'. now where else have I seen these words...)

It's so unlike the Hero's Journey structure described by Campbell and much more popular in modern media, where a hero gains a solution to the problem that pushed them to another world.

So I wonder in which form will Aventurine return. A hero who will set things right or a new genius loci of Penacony. Or an eschatological deity, perhaps.

Or maybe he's Orpheus himself and he'll come back empty-handed.

[honeykaes]

idk who needs to hear this but do not tattoo slave markings on your body????

[shrineofprophecy]

They have so much in common, bestiessss <3 @aventvrina

[elaticnary]

tag dump !! pt. 1

[yandere-sins]

Yandere!Aventurine who takes jewelry from corpses he stumbles over to give it to you.

Warnings: Yandere, Mentioning of Death/Blood/Bodies/Murder/Piercing his darling/Choking

Yandere!Aventurine who wraps his hands around the corpse's neck to measure whether the necklaces will fit you or not. He knows what size your throat is well enough, but he doesn't mind picking up necklaces that are a little too small. Just a little too tight so he can properly collar you. Bonus points if they have something dangling from them in the front with which he can play.

Yandere!Aventurine who doesn't mind the blood on the gold as he tears out earrings from the corpses he finds. It would be a waste to leave them, wouldn't it? You'd look so good with more gold dangling from your body. He chuckles to himself as he thinks about you in nothing but the gold he draped over you. And maybe his coat—if he's feeling frisky. Ratio might call him a peacock, but you'll be a piece of art if you'd let him decorate you as he pleased.

Yandere!Aventurine who checks every ring and brooch for inscriptions, clicking his tongue and trashing them when he finds any. It's wasted metal, but at least he can remove the gems from their settings. That should be just enough money to win you a new, prettier ring if he plays his cards right. One that he can slip on your finger and kiss reverently every time before he leaves.

Yandere!Aventurine who watches the dolled-up people swaggering around the casinos he visits, checking out their jewelry and searching for sets with real jewels that he can bring home. Not every corpse is dead, yet when he imagines what you'd look like in their necklace-earring combo sprawled out on his satin sheets. They die quickly enough, though, and he keeps a pile of jewelry cleaner at home, so you'll be none the wise where it comes from.

Yandere!Aventurine who sometimes doesn't bring food home, but at least he got a new piercing to put on your body (you'll learn to keep still after the first few he placed). He makes sure that one day, when you have learned to behave and cling to his arm no matter where he goes, everyone being so envy of what is his. He can't always win in a gamble, but how could he ever be a loser when he's got you, sparkling to the nines, all to himself?

[starcurtain]

Everyone on Twitter playfully dragging Aventurine for his crop top and track pants fit, and while I agree that this is hilarious and should be meme'd into oblivion, I also can't help but think that the Aventurine fandom as a whole should definitely embrace turning "He's kind of tacky, wouldn't know a subtle outfit unless it was picked by Jade, and wears bizarrely out-of-touch fits on his days off just because he personally thinks they look cool" into an endearing fanon character trait.

Because like, canonically? It makes perfect sense.

As a child, his family didn't have the luxury of giving him a wide variety of clothes in different styles or fabrics. He wore what he could get. Then, we're only ever shown adult Kakavasha wearing rags until joining the IPC.

We know from his character stories that he was kept extremely out of the loop on world news and mainstream media as a slave and literally wouldn't know anything about clothing other than seeing it on other people.

From the time he was a child, wearing whatever his family could pull together, to the time he became an adult prisoner wearing literal scraps, there was never a need or even reasonable opportunity for him to learn about fashion or the social pressures of "dressing to fit in."

The first thing he's told to do as a member of the Stonehearts is "Go pick out new clothes," and the next time we see him, he's wearing the most peacock-esque outfit possible. When Jade told him to pick out his clothes, he literally went in completely blind with no lessons on how to appropriately dress for any adult occasion at all.

While I do think that one of the first things Aventurine would have done as a new Stoneheart is research how to establish a certain "character" for himself and how to dress to give a specific impression, I also think that Aventurine would delight in finally, finally having the power to present himself exactly as he chooses--and that would likely be very strongly informed by an entire child- and young-adulthood growing up without a single social pressure to "dress normal."

Given that he never had someone to teach him how to dress in any modern intergalactic style in his formative years, I think that it makes perfect sense for his "fashion" sense to be extremely unique to him, with little outside influence except for being strongly based on what he knows best: the luxuries the Avgin people could gather from the deserts of Sigonia-IV.

Ratio accuses him of being "flashy," but Aventurine likely loads up all his personally-picked outfits with turquoise jewels, fur trim, and gold metal accents because that's what he grew up perceiving as status symbols and signs of prosperity. Of course he's flashy! Why would he not want to wear furs and jewels now that he has them?! What do you mean wearing six gold bangles is overkill with a t-shirt? No such thing as overkill, come on!

Topaz dropping the Star Rail equivalent of "You look like what would happen if Fashion Week was themed on the yakuza and the Roaring 20s at the exact same time" every other month.

"Well, I think it looks great!"

tl;dr: Aventurine can definitely do his research and blend his outfits into any scenario if needed, but when left to his own devices, he absolutely wears the most over-the-top and/or bizarrely unmodern and "I couldn't care less what is currently trending" fits because no one ever taught him fashion sense when he was growing up, he's finally got the autonomy to dress himself in whatever he thinks looks best, and he's still a little bit drunk on the opportunity to bath in the natural luxuries he longed for but could never have as a child.

Just sayin'.

[endlessdreamworld]

Under the Veil

An 18+ fic starring Aventurine X Fem!Reader as husband and wife. Minors DNI, sort of a continuation of the general headcanons post I wrote CW: infertility, A pretty harrowing dead dove do no eat flashback involving graphic depictions of sex trafficking, non con and SA for past Aventurine, as well as a brief mention of drugs. Wordcount: 4.5k

You felt grateful for your husband’s embrace now more than ever. It was warmth you desperately needed. It was security you didn’t deserve, not when you feel like you’ve robbed him of something he deserved more than anyone else in the world. Last but not least, it muffled your quiet sobs as you processed the reality you should have been expecting all along. After all, you and Aventurine have been actively trying for kids since the day you got married over three years ago. Something was critically wrong, but you both believed that this was something money could fix. You had already spent so much money crafting the perfect nest for all of the little ones you promised to bring into the world together. You promised him no less than half a dozen kids with eyes as bright and vivid as his and no one else’s. You weren’t one to ever break your promises, not until today.

A fresh wave of tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes and into your husband’s shoulder. You didn’t deserve to be comforted like this – not when you failed him so terribly, but you knew if you tried to pull away he wouldn’t have it. So instead you inhaled deeply, taking in his scent of today’s chosen cologne. You shuddered when you quickly recognized the smell of lavender. If anyone knew the first thing about scented oils it was the calming and anxiety relieving factors of lavender. Between the pacifying fragrance and the feeling of his sweater made from the cashmere of some rare creature, it was a matter of time before the tears finally stopped.

It was unlike Aventurine to wear a simple sweater as part of the ensemble of his outfit of the day given just how much fun he has peacocking around, but between the softness of the cashmere and the session of aromatherapy, his feelings on the matter of your infertility were obvious. He was fully prepared for this outcome and came deliberately equipped to ease you through the heartbreak. Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stroked your back until you found yourself kissing him back on the shoulder and the inside of his neck. After a few more deep breaths, you worked up the nerve to look him in his eyes. It was a relief to see them narrowed softly, exuding as much warmth as the day you both took your wedding vows. You felt lighter to see he loved you as much as ever. “I’m sorry honey,” you whispered into his neck. He gave you a squeeze, and laughed quietly. The soft melodic lilt tickled the tip of your ear.

You weren’t the same after receiving the news of your utterly barren womb. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes and you stayed in bed more and more. Aventurine was dying on the inside seeing you struggle like this, feeling entirely responsible for it. He’s always wanted to be a father, that much was apparent. He made it known countless times well before the talks of marriage. The Sigonian was quite good at dealing with the cards he was given both literal and metaphorical. It’s rare that he misplays so catastrophically.

Aventurine knew it would be no easy task to convince you how little this mattered to him in the bigger scheme of things, how it was you who was his everything. You saw through it all, the bravado, the bluffing, the bullshit. You barely had to try and you found the pathetic shell of a man beneath the fineries and you chose to dive in head first. It was a long and miserable road to get to a point where you were both happy.  The fact that you were even engaging in regular intimacy after everything he’s been through is nothing short of a miracle.

Sex trafficking and slavery go hand in hand, and the life of a ‘pretty slave’ in the hands of society’s upper crust was one of unparalleled shame. He, of course, was mostly transparent about how… well used he was. Your husband never gave you the full details of what happened, favoring to spin the lie of how ‘he forgot’ which he hoped would become the truth like the other half dozen lies he continuously spun. 

He wanted to forget his first time, auctioned off to a man who was no less than thrice as old as he was, lusting over someone who was still more boy than man. He wanted to forget how that predator’s chest hair felt against his back, how the sweat slickened curls made him squirm while they left their slimy trails along his flesh. Aventurine wanted to forget the feeling of the man’s palm on his cheek as he forced the Sigonian’s face into the pillows and lined up their hips. He wanted to forget the pain of the violation. Most of all, he wanted to forget the humiliation of his body’s own betrayal as the high roller stroked him off, the little mewls and groans that slipped through his traitorous lie spinning lips before he made a mess on the bed. He wanted to forget the feeling of blood laced spunk dripping down his thigh that night. It was no small consolation that he at least had long forgotten that face.

 He wanted to forget the taste of sweat and salt leaking from every cock he had to suck. He wanted to forget the shapes of them, the smell of them, the leers, the smacks, the feeling of strangers tugging on his hair. He wanted to forget the ‘parties’ his master rented him out to. He wanted to forget about the streaks of jizz on his lower back, how they wiped themselves off on him leaving hedonistic tallies keeping score of some sick game they played amongst themselves. He wanted to forget the drugs needed to perform when his body would no longer cooperate. He – “Honey, are you okay?” You asked him. He had been staring off into space for a while. Whenever he gets like this, it’s pretty obvious he’s stuck somewhere inside of memories he didn’t want to be shackled to.

Ah, even now you’re worrying about me? He thought, and tilted your chin up to give you a kiss on your cheek right below your eye. “Me? I’m fine of course but what about you?” He cupped your face. “You’ve been out of it for the past week. I’ve been worried sick you know?” Truth be told, he was giving you some space but he was always ready to come running when you were finally ready to share some of the pain you’ve been carrying lately with him.

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I think we should talk.” Oh those dreaded words he always hated hearing. You’ve almost never said them, only when your relationship was in dire straits and you needed something from him in specific. It’s been ages since he heard them.

“Right, I’m sure we do,” he said and sat down next to you on the couch. He faced towards you and rested his arm along the top of the couch. You reached into your bag and pulled out a few resources, but it’s hard for him to pay attention to what’s in your hands when all he can see are the bags under your eyes.

“I’ve been looking into some options for us,” you presented him with some printed documents regarding surrogacy services. “So you can still be a father and pass on the bloodline.” He grew utterly quiet, but you’re undeterred, “Or maybe you could sign up at a fertility clinic and see if you can be registered as a sperm donor. I know Sigonians aren’t exac-”

“Stop,” he cut you off. Your hands froze and clutched onto your well intentioned but foolish research. His fingers rubbed against the backs of yours, coaxing you into giving up those unnecessary papers. You acquiesced and let him shuffle them back onto the table. “We can go to other doctors, get a second or third opinion or whatever.”

It hurt to hear him hold onto hope like this because the chance of having your own children was slim to none. “But what if it just can’t happen?”

“Then it just won’t happen,” he smiled but you could see the pain in his eyes.

“I don’t want you to give this up, Kakavasha. I know how much your Avgin heritage means to you. I–” tears threatened the edge of your vision, and your husband shushed you. “I promised you I’d –” he put his index and middle finger against your lips, sealing them in a gentle hold.

“Ishla rhim,” he addressed you with the Avgin term of endearment meant only for the most intimate of moments. One would be lucky to hear it more than a couple of times in their life. “Let’s pray together, do you remember how? Or do you need a little reminder?” His voice is  as warm and sweet as his namesake.

“I remember,” you told him while lifting up the wrong hand.

He clicked his tongue playfully and retrieved the correct hand while kissing the other. “It’s our left ones. You’ll always see our commitment to each other when we pray,” he rubbed the pad of his finger along the skin of your wedding band seared into your flesh with the same ink that was used for his commodity.

“Right,” you nod and he kissed your forehead. You began to recite the prayer cautiously, “May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you…?”

He nodded, “That’s right. Don’t forget the part about keeping your blood eternally pulsing.”

You groaned, “You’d think I’d know the prayer by heart after all this time.”

He laced his fingers with yours pressing your palms flat together. “You do know it, but you’re feeling a bit nervous is all.” He squeezed your fingers together and peppered the backs of your fingers with kisses, one for each knuckle. “Your fingers are shaking. Let me take over.” He recited the prayer line by line, with you following along. Yet still, you didn’t seem to feel better and he could tell. 

The air grew heavier between the two of you, and you finally broke the suffocating silence. “I think we should look into alternatives just in case…” “I’m not interested,” he said, leaving no further room for discussion. “It was only ever going to be you and I.” It was unlike you to be so pushy. You were always so mindful of his needs and careful with his boundaries.

Just as you were about to try to find another angle, he leaned over you, effectively caging you against the back of the couch. “Wife,” he begins, his eyes were colder than you’d seen them before and there was a hint of desperation in the calm black depths of his pupils that made the vivid brights of his iris seem to glow. “I think you’d benefit greatly from being reminded of our wedding vows.” His eyes roamed from your eyes to your lower lip. He grabbed your chin and tilted your face at such an angle where he commanded every last scrap of your attention. “Because you seem to be forgetting the part about ‘in sickness and in health’ and that simply won’t do. How about we renew our vows, right here, right now, hmm?” Aventurine brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth. He nuzzled his face against yours, the caress of his long and full eyelashes finally pulled you from this pit you threw yourself into. You took a better look at him and saw that look again, that one a pet would give you before you closed the door on them before leaving for one task or another. It was that look that screamed ‘please don’t throw me away’ at the top of its lungs. 

How very thoughtless of you, ignoring what was right before your very eyes. You cupped Aventurine’s face with both of your hands and his eyes fluttered shut. Guilt twisted inside of your guts, knotting you in a way that made your stomach flip. It finally dawned on you just how bad of a spot you put his already tortured soul into. “I think I may need a reminder, but not here,” you patted the couch. “There’s not enough pillows.”

“Right,” he sighed in mock defeat, “What was I thinking?” Aventurine scooped you up as he rose to his feet. “Silly me.” Countless times you were the source of his comfort, his little slice of heaven molded into flesh and shaped into his home. Now here you are, in desperate need of comfort and it’s his turn to perform. The stakes have never been higher. He knew if he failed to relieve you of that all-devouring guilt of yours, then a part of you would never be the same and he was having none of it. Aventurine set you down in the middle of your marital bed and you started making quick work of your buttons. “Hey!” he called out to you in a pout, making you freeze. “Hi?” your fingers sheepishly fidgeted with the last remaining button that kept your clothes together.

Your husband approached the edge of the bed and sat down beside you. “That’s not how our wedding night went. This,” his fingers brushed aside your own as he ran the tip of his finger along the flat surface, “was my job. And you stole it from me. Guess we gotta change things up this time.”

Aventurine put his hand on your cheek and you took the opportunity to steal a little more from him. You pawed at his clothes before he had the opportunity to disrobe himself. He hummed in amusement, “Someone is very eager,” he mused, the corners of his lips curled up into that smirk of his that never failed to make you feel like a total mess. It did him well to see you perking up a bit. He playfully pushed you down onto the bed, “Roll over for me. I want to see you on your hands and knees tonight.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You rolled over onto your stomach, just in time to see Aventurine finish undressing. He threw himself onto the bed next to you and brushed your hair back, taking a moment to just… soak in the sight of you. Ages ago he’d lay down next to you, too scared to touch you, scared to make you dirty. You always took things slow, always left the floor open for every no he was brave enough to say. That’s why the talk of all of these ‘options’ felt so unnecessary.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You,” he quipped smoothly. It was clear his mind was elsewhere, but he seemed content enough so there was no need to press him on it. He weaved his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt before sliding his hand up the skin on your back. With his free hand, he popped open that last button you so graciously saved for him. Aventurine made quick work of the rest of your clothing and basked in the familiar sight of you. It would always only be you. He trailed his fingers down your back, leaving little paths of gooseflesh in their wake.

“That tickles,” you laughed quietly and rubbed your back against his exploring hand. As you went to roll over and swat his hand away, he held onto your wrist and kept you on your stomach.

“On your knees for me. Please?” He nuzzled the side of your cheek. This isn’t a position you took often, so it was tremendously exciting. You felt invigorated by the simple gesture of getting on all fours. Your husband placed a hand on your hip to savor the feeling of your skin and quickly clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Too cold.” He stepped away. You turned your head to see him fidgeting with the thermostat.

“It’s not that serious. I’m not cold, I’m lonely,” you whined from on the bed. He always doted on you so much, too much even – especially during intimacy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t understand it. His words from the day you finally bridged that threshold play inside of your mind on loop during times like these. “I’ve been embraced so many times before, but this is the first time I’ve been held.”

He laughed at how petulant you’re being, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it heartwarming. Aventurine returned to your side and placed his hand on your back once more. He slid the tips of his fingers past your hips, past your ass, until they settled around your already damp lips. He traced his fingers along your slit and felt your slick stick to his dexterous digits. Your husband knew your body well and didn’t even need to slip a finger in to know how easily you’d take two more. “Yes, you certainly feel very lonely.” The way he said it made you want to protest his teasing, but honestly? He didn’t want to leave you unsatisfied for any longer.

The bed shifted under his weight as he joined you. You bent your arms, your front half dipping low enough so you could feel your chest settle on those oh so familiar soft silk sheets. Your husband sighed in satisfaction as he settled his hand on your shoulder. The warmth of his hands radiated through the relaxed muscles of your back. Strands of his soft blonde hair tickled the side of your face before you felt his nose rub against the left side of your neck. He placed a tender kiss right on the same spot his commodity tattoo would be and you purred in turn, your hands already clutching at the sheets as you salivated in anticipation. Aventurine gave himself a couple of strokes before he nestled the head of his cock at the entrance of your snatch, the lips swollen and puffy from arousal. He smirked into the skin of your neck.

“Wow, I don’t even have to touch you anymore to turn your guts into tangled ribbons,” he whispered in such a sultry tone before running his tongue along the artery in your neck. Your pulse raced wildly against the damp muscle oh so deliciously. He loved driving you crazy like this, loved the way he could move your heart, loved the noises he was going to pry out of your sweet lips.

He was met with no resistance as he bore his weight down on you. The head of his cock breached your entrance before he carefully sheathed himself into you. A little sigh of delight huffed out of your partially parted mouth. You gave a light wave with your fingers as an invitation. Aventurine placed the palm of his hand over the back of yours, lacing your hands together. He gave you a light squeeze and finished bottoming out before kissing the side of your neck.

It was a bit surprising feeling him stop there, and you thought that maybe he changed his mind. Before you had time to overthink it, he murmured into your ear as a reminder, “We’re supposed to be renewing our vows, love.”

Oh yes, that’s right, you were already so cock drunk that you forgot that part. “Right, it was just the –” you felt the tip of the fingers of his free hand trail land on your sternum. They felt cold against your burning skin.

“Yes?”

“The standard ones, something classic.” It was so unbelievably hard to keep your head in the corporeal realm when Aventurine’s touch was propelling you to heaven.

“Right, I’m listening. I want to hear you recite them because I think you might have forgotten.”

“For bett-” he started to drag his fingers from your sternum to your navel, leaving a pit in your stomach. He felt your weeping cunt seize his shaft in a chokehold. Your voice pitched high, “better andpoorer.”

“For better and for worse,” he nipped your ear and trailed his fingers back up the center of your torso before they settled back between your breasts. You clamped down firmly on his hand in your own, an attempt at avenging your broken focus. “Come on, what was next?”

“For richer, an-” he dragged his fingers from above to further below this time, settling just over your womb. “Richer and for poorer.”

He placed a warm kiss on your temple. “Good girl,” he cooed, tickling your hair. “Next?”

Your tongue swiped at your lower lip and then spit out the next bit as fast as you possibly could before he had the opportunity to scramble your brains anymore than he already had. “Insicknessan-” You should have known better than to try something like this. The moment you committed to spitting out your wedding vows, Aventurine had already taken hold of your swollen clit in between his fingers. You stumbled, unable to hold your hips up for a brief moment. Not that it had any affect on your position with the way he was holding onto you.

“In sickness and in health, and don’t you dare ever forget it,” he threatened.

You shook your head and then laid it out one last time, “But what if this is it? What if we can’t have kids of our own.”

Your husband grew silent, and you’re afraid you broke the moment when all you wanted was to be considerate of what he was sentencing himself to.

“Then it’s very simple, isn’t it?” His thighs rubbed against yours as he rolled his hips. The way his cock grinds against your core makes your eyes roll back into your head. “I’ll be the last Avgin. The bloodline dies with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Aventurine holds you still as he rocks back and forth in a steady motion. He sounded so happy as he said it, and the last of this festering worry was stolen away from you. 

Fuck, he knew just the right thing to say didn’t he? It wasn’t fair. If only you could be half as good as he was but right now, all you could do was confess a sloppy “I love you,” into the mattress accompanied by a thin stream of drool.

He huffed a breathy laugh against your back, “Oh I know you do.” Cocky and self-assured, just the way you like him. Aventurine inhaled and lightly rolled his fingers, swirling your bead in pace with the soft rock of his body against yours. You sighed, you squealed, you sang – just for him. Oh how he loved to hear you, see you, smell you. He focused on those sensations as he tried to believe the lie he just told you. Was it a lie though, if it was one of omission? It’s not like he was lying to you outright. While yes, it was that simple, that this was what he wanted, he’d be lying if he didn’t say how painful the solitude would be.

But none of that was important, not when the scent of your shampoo tickled his senses, nor when he watched the wet spot near your face slowly grow from the steady stream of drool. It was some delightful proof of just how much you were enjoying yourself. He had you right where he wanted you, and although it was out of character for him to leave you hanging on the edge, there was something he needed to do for himself or rather for both of your sakes.

“I’m going to grab something to make things a bit more exciting,” he kissed your forehead before carefully disentangling himself from you. Aventurine had enough kink for a lifetime after all of the subjugation he went through so he didn’t own what he was looking for. A substitute would do. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time nor the last time that he would hide behind his wealth as a shield. He retrieved his favorite necktie, and swirled it proactively. It was some unintentional good planning on his part that he’s spent countless hours on sleight of hand tricks. He needed the practice now more than ever. If anyone would be able to spot his facade slipping, his fingers shaking and unsure, it would be you – his chosen life partner. “Here, let me put this on,” he said as he wrapped the makeshift blindfold around your eyes. A tool, a misdirection, a temporary respite.

Aventurine rolled you onto your back and you were none the wiser to the forlorn and broken expression on his face. He needed to cry, to mourn the family you were supposed to have. The nursery he’d disassemble by himself for your sake. He couldn’t worry you, not when you needed the comfort more, when he knew what it was like to feel small and helpless as your body betrayed what you wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult to pass his tears off as sweat, his shaking voice as swells of his own pleasure. Of course he felt good too. Everyone is more comfortable at home. He saw your fingers twitching in his peripherals, a tell that was far more consistent and obvious than the frenzied fluttering of your insides. Yes, now would be a good time.

Your husband crashed his lips against yours, a calculated act of theft as he stole your cries of ecstasy right out of your throat. Some might call it slimy, some might call it cunning, he called it commitment as he used the tortured screams of your climax to mask his own erratic breathing and whimpers of heartbreak. You fell still beneath him and hummed in satisfaction. Your fingers peeled off the blindfold, and you could finally get a good look of his smiling face. He thanked Gaiathra Triclops for giving him the strength to pull himself together so he could face you with a proper smile instead of that hollow one you’d see right through in a heartbeat. “I didn’t know renewing our vows could be so fun,” you beamed up at him, a smile as calming as the moon. He found himself nuzzling into your hand. “Romantic right?”

You laughed and nodded enthusiastically beneath him. “Wanna get cleaned up?” You gave his cheek a squish.

“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Your life together carried on. This was just another point in time, one he wouldn’t deem as suffering no matter how painful. As a gambler he weighed the risks and rewards of every encounter, every interaction. Every move was calculated, every word was said with purpose. Who knows? Maybe Mama Fenge would bless him with a miracle. After all, as the fortunate boy born on the day of Kakava he was blessed from the moment he was born. All in, he didn’t even need to remind himself as he helped you wash your hair, relishing in the smile on your face, one you gifted him with today and tomorrow and every day to come.

[bunni-v1]

Aventurine NSFW Headcannons

🍓This took me so long to get done, and I'm not 100% satisfied, but I wanted to get these out. There's so much I left unsaid, and I feel like if I kept going it would never stop. So enjoy the very basics of what I feel Aventurine is like in bed. Smaller posts are coming in the future so I can take time to work on the genshin stuff I have coming, alongside requests I plan on doing a full fic for <3

Tagging: @the-original-skipps (mwah mwah, just for you pookie)

Tw: Mentions of past sexual assault; Aventurine has unhealthy views of sex; Aventurine's past; NSFW; Pretty vanilla ngl; grammar errors

Info: Aventurine x Reader; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

MDNI

-Aventurine and sex do not mix well – at least, not at the start. 

-Much like love, he has a very jaded view of sexual intimacy. He was (heavily implied to have been) sexually assaulted by many different unsavory types when he was younger. His body wasn’t his own then, and the sex was brutal and unkind – something he hated.

-As he grew, both in stature and into his title of Aventurine of Strategems, his hatred of sex turned into something different. It was still hatred, he hated the act more than anything in the world most times, but he realized his body was good for something.

-Aventurine was an attractive man, despite his eyes being a less than savory feature to most people. His body was lean and lithe, his clothes and hair perfectly styled and trendy, not to mention the air of mystery he had drew people in like moths to flame. 

-All of it was crafted by his own two hands, of course. He was attractive because he wanted – no, needed to be. So, he made sure he was, of course, no one would do business with him otherwise.

-Pretty as a peacock, you could hardly tell he was once a slave or a dirty Avgin boy.

-He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the body he so hated being born into was a good business tool when he needed it to be.

-People really will do anything to get off, and as much as it disgusted him to do such depraved things, he would do whatever he had to to get what he wanted.

-He’d scrub his skin raw in the shower afterward, trying desperately to get the smell of sex off him. Hoping that if he scratches hard enough the ugly purple bruises will wash away with soap and water. They never do, and they leave him feeling vile until they fade.

-Regardless men, women, monsters – he really didn’t care what he was fucking so long as it got him what he was looking for.

-That’s what sex is to Aventurine, a transaction. He scoffs at the idea of it being anything more than that. Sex was rough and sweaty and all kinds of disgusting, how could anyone derive pleasure from that? You fuck, you cum, you say goodbye. Simple. As. That.

-Ah, but, then again you come along and you just love challenging his worldview don’t you? With your pretty little eyes and your sweet, comforting words. You always make him question himself. It would be annoying if he didn’t love you so damn much.

-Your first time with him is… incredibly unpleasant. It’s not as though he doesn’t account for you or your wants, but there’s a disconnect. He’s too… pliant and yet all too controlling. First times are rarely good, but this felt alien. Like the person you were with was not your beloved Kakavasha, but some strange man taking his place for the night.

-He’s doing things he thinks you want, he’s saying sweet words he’d whispered to hundreds of other partners, it’s all that he thinks you need, what he’s decided in his head that you’d like, rather than something that comes from knowing you.

-He doesn’t ask, he just gives and takes and then it’s over. It’s unfulfilling and empty, leaving you with a dull ache in your chest.

-He doesn’t even offer you or himself aftercare, and you find him scrubbing his skin red in the shower afterward like he was trying to rid himself of any trace of you.

-It makes you feel terrible. Like you’re some whore he’s picked up off the streets and not his long-term partner with whom he’s shared some of the darkest parts of himself.

-You cry into those expensive satin sheets, ruining them with your sniffling. It’s quite the sight for Aventurine to walk back into.

-He expected you to be asleep, or at least resting in some capacity, but crying? His heart sinks as he rushes to your side, then somehow falls further when you tug yourself away from him.

-He’s perceptive enough to realize that he had been the one to put you in such a state, but he didn’t really understand why.

-When he’s able to calm you enough to get you to talk to him, you’re able to explain that you felt so disregarded. There was no connection or love or care from him, did he not feel you were worthy of sharing that in moments of intimacy?

-That makes him sick. Never in a million years would he want to make you feel as though he does not love you, despite previous behaviors. You were his whole world, part of the reason he continued to exist. How could he ever make you feel unworthy of him?

-He nearly spirals there, but your tears are enough to remind him that he is not the one who needs love and reassurance. So, always eager to learn and grow with you, he asks you what you believe sex should be like… and it’s quite different from what he understands.

-You describe it like an extension of yourself. A means of intimacy and trust a level deeper than words and affection can get you. You are vulnerable during sex, you are at your weakest and you are sharing that with the person you love. It’s the most intimate thing you could do with a person, and while it can be fun and it can simply be because it feels good, it can also be because you love the other person so deeply you have no other way to express it.

-Aventurine finds the definition to be rather naive, but you had always been a bleeding heart. (Which he, regardless of if Kakavasha or Aventurine was leading charge, would give anything to protect). Yet… Kakavasha likes it. Kakavasha wants to do that with you, he wants to show you how much he loves you, he wants to hold you even closer and share such sweet nothings with you.

-He tries to toss it out initially because if he thought about it like that he would have to confront himself. Look that trauma in the eyes and acknowledge that, once again, you’d proven him wrong in a way he was annoyingly not expecting.

-But as the days go by and you slowly begin to become physical with him again, he wonders fondly how it would feel. Taking his time with you, he means.

-He couldn’t help but wonder how nice it would be to really feel your skin under his fingers. To kiss every inch of you, to hear you sigh his name like he crafted the heavens with his own two hands. Ah, Kakavasha won again, it seems.

-So he goes to you, like an apologetic puppy, and he apologizes for how terrible he was. How he reflected and regrets it, and he wants to try again and let you take the lead this time. 

-Despite everything, you say yes, and you allow him this second chance to redefine his worldview yet again.

-Aeons it’s life-changing sex. 

-Slow, careful, and all kinds of intimate. He’s still on top because he could not trust even you to be on top. He needed that control. But he listens to what you need, and he finds he’s very good at servicing you. Just as good as he is at spoiling you with his riches.

-You guide him to kiss you deeply, tongues tangling in a tango to a tempo only the two of you could enjoy. You show him how to leave love bites that make his spine tingle. How different parts of your body make you feel different kinds of pleasure. He gets to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste your very being on his tongue, and swallow the angelic cries of his name.

-It’s a kind of intimacy and affection he’d never been afforded in his life. A vulnerability he hadn’t expected himself to enjoy, and yet as he sobs into your shoulder at his release, he finds himself wanting more.

-It becomes a problem, really. One taste of it and you have both your sweet Kakavasha and the hardened businessman Aventurine absolutely addicted. In the privacy of his condo, he can lust after you all he wants. You would never deny him the pleasure of freedom, though you would tell him no after the third night in a row for your aching hips. (He will draw you a bath and book you an appointment at the finest spa he can get you into for the next day.)

-In his office, or during a meeting, or talking to the Doctor, however… that’s a problem. He wasn’t supposed to like it that much, but that intimacy had him aching through his expensive slacks. 

-He thinks about it all the time, and he’s taken to locking his office doors and keeping the blinds shut airtight for more than half the day. He hopes no one notices how many bathroom breaks he takes during meetings. He tries his best to forget the boner he popped in front of the esteemed doctor talking about finances.

-You literally have him addicted to being in love with you, it’s quite the conundrum you’ve found yourselves in… but, would you really ever want to change that? He’s very good in bed after all, so it can’t be that bad.

-Aventurine is a switch-leaning top (so sorry Aventio shippers), and I say this only because he does not like relinquishing control. Especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially with his past traumas, he would rather be in charge than trust you and have you hurt him.

-He softens up significantly as time goes on, and he is more willing to allow you to service him how you please, but he never really gives up his control. There’s always a reminder that he has the say-so in what does or does not go.

-That being said he is very giving, without having to be asked he will happily do whatever you need of him. It’s just in his nature to service, those pretty little moans are all the payment he needs.

-I won’t lie and say he isn’t a tease, though. He’s incorrigible, actually. He loves to tease you, be it with his words or his actions, he loves getting you squirming beneath him.

-He’ll mumble against your throat how needy you are for him, how you’re already so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten past your clothes, how cute you are when you’re so needy for him. His fingers will graze you with such feather-light touch you’ll whine at him, and he always coos at you like a needy little thing – as if he isn’t the one tormenting you.

-He’s a fan of edging, which just comes with the territory too. He spends hours of his time building you up to your orgasm, crooking his fingers and swirling his tongue so you’re right there, and then he’ll pull away leaving you crying for more.

-It’s all worth it when he does let you cum, though. The orgasm shaking the very foundation of you, sticky fluids staining yet another pair of satin sheets. 

-That’s not even mentioning his dick, which he is just as talented with. It’s slim, the same shade as the rest of him, with an upward curve that rubs against your g-spot so very well without him having to try.

-It fits so snugly inside, and if you watch closely you can see the effect you have on him as his perfect poker face cracks just a little. He loves to feel you from the inside, it may be one of his favorite things in the world.

-You are warm and squishy and so very accepting of him, conforming to the size and shape of his member like you were made to do so. Like you were made for him and him alone, it’s a deeply romantic thought that he would scoff at if he were in a less hazy mindset.

-He’s rarely rough with you, preferring to show you how much he loves you more softly, though he can be rough upon request.

-Sometimes if you get him jealous enough he’ll be rough on his own accord, but never uncaring or unloving. Even when he has you face down, ass up he makes you feel like the most precious gemstone in the entire world.

-He likes sex slow and long, preferring if it is dragged out across multiple sessions with sweet nothings and gentle care between the breaks. 

-However, he rarely has the free time for such things, and as such he gets very good at making the most of the time that he does have.

-Because of his high sex drive, quickies are common, but they are no less fulfilling than the long sessions he enjoys having. 

-He’s adept at getting you to cum in under five minutes with his fingers, he can do it in two with his tongue thrown in, and that’s usually fast enough for him to quickly get off and get back to what he needs to do.

-Unfortunately, he isn’t the kinkiest guy. He doesn’t like tying up or being tied up, he’s not a fan of power play, roleplaying seems to turn him off (again, not a fan of power play, which a lot of scenarios include this), no hitting or degrading, and pretty much anything that could remotely involve hurting either of you is a no from him.

-He thinks for a while he’s fine with it, and he is willing to try anything once, but it only takes him one time to realize he does not like physical or mental pain. It’s not sexy, it’s traumatizing and he won’t be convinced to try it.

-He does, however, really enjoy you wearing lingerie. Lacy ones dotted with expensive stones are his favorites. Frequently you’ll find a set sent to you in pretty packaging with a little note telling you to ‘enjoy your present.’ Meaning, he wants a picture of you in it ASAP.

-Also a fan of seeing you in his clothes. If he spots you lounging about in his shirt after a long day of work, he’ll be all over you like a helpless puppy.

-Cockwarming you when he works from home is a favorite of his, liking the way you wiggle and squirm as he combs over documents. His poker face really is something impressive, you have no clue how he’s re-read the same sentence ten times as you clench around him again.

-Office sex is unlikely, purely because he doesn’t like you being anywhere near IPC headquarters if he can help it. But if you do stop by for some reason, the likelihood of him bending you over the desk and fucking you raw is about 99%. He does miss you a lot during the day, after all, you can’t shame him for indulging in his favorite treat after so long without it.

-He just truly, deeply loves you. Once he begins to have a healthy relationship with sex and associate it with you rather than the horrors of his past, it’s nothing but loving and delightful. He takes the whole idea that it is an extension of his admiration for you very literally, and showers you in his affections through sex.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ ALL OR NOTHING. yan! aventurine / gn! reader

it's a nice feeling to finally be on the winning side, feigning fairness when all the winning cards are in his hand. but it's not like you can fault him for cheating. after all, you who has nothing chose to challenge him, the one who will gain everything.

( overarching theme of sl4very, anim4l cruelty, anim4l death, bl00d, graphic description of violence, hinted obsessive behavior, im unoriginal and stole kafkas spirit whisper for reader ) + 7.5k words

"It's just a bet," he suggests, as if this gamble won't cost you your everything. "Juuust a bet. Exactly what are you so scared of?"

He sits laid back in his plush velvet chair, twirling a cocktail as he enjoys the finest luxuries in life. He is clad head to toe in the finest clothing, dressed like a peacock waiting to impress. You, on the other hand, feel more like the peahen— dreadfully drab in your rags and no choice but to watch as the peacock flaunts his feathers. You are knelt on the ground, but your eyes show no submission.

"I'm not crazy, gambler," you bite. "I know the IPC. They are full of shit. And you, Aventurine." Your eyes set on him with hatred. "You're the smelliest of the lot."

Aventurine, the gem of lies and luck, sighs dramatically. "Pup, you know I don't like it when you're so vulgar, y'know? I'm giving you a chance at freedom, so you ought to at least treat me at least a little bit nicer. I'm not the one who shackled you, so I don't understand what the aggression is all about."

"You're the reason why I'm here in the first place!"

"No, Jade was." He presses a finger to your lip and you'd bite it if it weren't for the annoying bind you were under. "Jade came across you and thought you and your talent would make for a nice gift. You were a gift and I'm just the receiver. So don't go barking up the wrong tree, pup."

"So." He leans back into his couch and shoots you a sly grin. "Up for round one?"

You are lost.

The meaning of Paths and their symbolisms are lost on you. You don't care for Aeons— no one on your home planet was. You were busy diving in dumpsters for a scrape of food, tricking your 'friends' into sacrificing themselves for you, and killing whatever was left of your humanity just to make it to another day. You walk on no Path but yours.

You don't even know which way you're going. So you are lost.

You think Aventurine is lost too.

He has every detail of his facade practiced. His gait is relaxed enough to not be intimidating, but not sloppy enough to be called out as bad posture. He talks in a smooth voice that eases fools and makes enemies wary, his smile is charming to sway the opponent into another gamble, his hair is fixed to frame his pretty face, and he chooses words that cannot be turned into loopholes. He is Aventurine. But he is not himself.

He does not care for the Preservation, but he rejects the Elation. He is on his own Path too, but he knows the destination he must reach— his 'End'. In that way, he is different from you, because you know not your journey or your ending. Still, he is just as lost as you.

But he makes a darn good show of not seeming that way. Right now, you watch as he throws the dice on the table, and the whole table watches with bated breath as they turn. A six and one— he lost the bet to the other's six and five. They cackle gleefully as they collect their earnings from Aventurine. They have chips upon chips on their side of the table while Aventurine's winnings are cut in half.

"I think I'll call it a day, pretty boy," the gambler cackles, greedily eyeing his earnings and possibly dreaming about the cash he's made tonight. "Even a gambler knows when to call quits, right?"

Aventurine pouts. "Aww, so soon? C'mon, the night's only begun! Who knows, play another round and you might just end up with more money than you have right now~"

The man laughs again, obviously not fooled by his pity act. "Boy, I'm not as addicted as you are. I know when to stop instead of letting you bleed me out dry." But Aventurine isn't fazed; rather, he snaps his fingers and you lower your head as you step to his side.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? [Y. Name], be a dear and persuade this gentleman into another round with me."

A glow of your eyes. Then you fix the man with an eerie gaze as you say, bright and clear, "Hey, you: Play another round with my master."

As if in a daze, the man's eyes cloud over and sit right back. Another round later Aventurine wins all his losses back and more, leaving the other gambler's side naked and bare of chips. The man is barely out of his stupor when he realizes what just happened— that he's fallen for a trick and now he's ended up with no money to even cover his lodgings— but you and Aventurine have sauntered out of the casino doors by the time he's begun cussing you out.

"Ha! That was fun." Aventurine shrugs off his jacket now that you're in the car and raises an empty champagne glass to you. "You're a good partner, [Y. Name]. Honestly, that Spirit Whisper of yours is such a nice trick. Just like that Stellaron Hunter, right?"

"... Kafka?"

"Yes, her. Enigmatic woman, isn't she? A bit ironic how those with such a powerful ability ended up as slaves. Her as Destiny's, and you as... mine." He gives your collar a little tug and you growl in warning, but you inch closer to him anyway. "So. Gambling. You up for that round?"

You scoff and grin at him with all teeth and no mirth. "You really think that a Cornerstone would bet on their slave's freedom?" Aventurine's own grin grows wider. "C'mon. Even Pteruges-V has better lies than you."

"Ah, right, your homeworld. No wonder you're so brazen all the time, even to your superiors. I forget that fear is a foreign concept to you people. Still," he raises your chin with a finger. "If you're so fearless, why not bet on a gamble? It's not like you're scared."

"There may be fools from my planet that you can trick with that taunt, peacock, but I'm not one of them. I'm fearless, not stupid. And with the way you're so eager to involve me in this bet, I'm beginning to suspect that you need this more than I do." You push him away. "So, no, master, I won't indulge you. I'll bide my time and look for an escape. Just like I've always had."

"And what?" He looks at you from behind his sunglasses. "Will you kill me to gain that freedom?"

You flash him a sharp grin, now amused. "Of course you'd think that, master."

The smile on his face is wiped clean. You really are a brazen thing, you.

Jade has always mentioned how soft Aventurine is on you. A dog of your attitude should merit a little more disciplinary action and even the good Doctor has told him this once or twice after seeing your arrogance despite the collar around your neck. "Your dog bites more than it deserves," Ratio scoffed while you made an action of biting him behind Aventurine. He frowned in displeasure. "You ought to make it learn a lesson or two."

"Now, now, doctor," Aventurine had laughed. "Not everyone shares the same sadistic tendencies as you." An image of you collared and shaking on your knees flashes through his mind, and he finds himself gulping. Ratio looks at him like he doesn't believe him.

It's not like he hasn't thought of it, of chaining you to the wall and starving you so that you learn that your attitude has its consequences. You shouldn't bite the hand that feeds you, not when he's been so good to you. But that... that was exactly the line of thought his old master had. That wicked man who put a brand on him and sullied his hands with his wretched man... he couldn't risk turning into a monster like... that.

Aventurine is weak. Unable to let go of past sentiments and memories, he makes it up with his grand display of bravado and high-stakes gambles. He gambles even as he spoils you, laughing at your audacity and even rewarding you for it sometimes, not knowing whether you'll leave him or if you'll stay with him. It is a gamble indeed, but you were worth every risk.

"What do you think of me, [Y. Name]?" The cityscape beyond the window is glowing with Pier Point's nightlife, and his suite provides him a good view of the world beneath him. He glances back at you, stirring his coffee for him. "Your dear master Aventurine. What do you think of me?"

"Annoying, stupid, a fool, an addict, and pathetic." You don't hesitate to badmouth your master. "You lie too well, you think that luck of yours will never run out, and you try to be someone that you can't."

"And who is that someone?"

Your eyes flash. "Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who isn't afraid to admit his weaknesses and hope that things get better."

"I didn't peg you for an optimist, dear pet."

"Hmph. That's not optimism. I may not know what exactly fear is, but I know that what is holding you back isn't it. You do not fear things, gambler. You stake it all and bet on something so intangible as luck. That can't be fear."

"Then what is it?"

The stare you give him sets his heart off, looking straight into his eyes and giving a grin so devilish and knowing like that facade of his never mattered in the first place.

"You're a coward. A plain, old coward. Nothing more, nothing less."

That conversation had always popped up in his head in the most inconvenient of moments, especially when he was about to get some sleep. His heart beat faster every time he recalled that knowing gaze of yours, invading where he didn't want the world to see and baring his soul right before your very eyes. His facade doesn't work on you.

He could care less. You were the one person he didn't want it to work on, though he'd never admit that out loud.

This meeting with the other Ten Cornerstones could not interest him any less, and it seemed to be that way for the others too. Jade is saying something on behalf of Diamond, again, and everyone is busy doing their own thing. Only Topaz seems to be the one paying at least some attention, and even then she gets distracted by Numby from time to time. Aventurine glances at the clock.

He wonders how his pup is faring while he's away. Ecstatic, perhaps.

"— All evidence leads to an underground network that is scattered among numerous planets, though thankfully all of them are within the same galaxy. I'll be forwarding an email to you all with a detailed report on each of these. Just know that most of us will be likely deported to these countries to break up the—" In the middle of Jade's tiresome monologue, the security alarms start to blare and two officers slam through the doors with looks of urgency. One of them scans the room until his eyes land on Aventurine, and they quickly approach him.

"Sir!" They say, desperate and alarmed. "Your do— I mean, slave! They've– They've escaped!"

Surprise streaks across the faces of the Ten Cornerstones, even Aventurine's. He collects himself when he catches Jade's knowing smile and chuckles to himself.

"Well, I guess this is the master's consequence for not disciplining their pet."

Did he really think you were fucking stupid? Taking on a bet for your freedom... what a bunch of bullshit. He can proclaim about how much he loves a fair gamble, but you know that's only reserved for the people around the table. You are his slave, the one he demeaningly calls 'pet'— you don't have the chance to make your own dealings.

"Halt! In the name of Qlipoth, you better stop while we're giving you a chance." These IPC henchmen were slowpokes, the lot of them. You weave in and between salary workers, crashing trolleys full of wares and coffees and hopping between levels just to shake them off their tracks. By golly, they might be incompetent but Aeons damned they were nothing but persistent.

"Ha, the Devil Hunters were more annoying than them," you mutter to yourself, skidding around the corner only to come face-to-face with two IPC henchmen. They raise their polearms to strike, but with a chilling grin stretched across your face, you say: "Hey, you: Jump."

You don't look back to see whether they made the seven-floor drop.

This reminds you of the nights you spent back in Pteruges-V: making fools out of the prissy rich, jumping across buildings to shake of the Hunters, and using whatever you had to make things go your way. Not everyone had Spirit Whisper, but those who had made good use of it and you sure as hell wouldn't miss a single chance to use it.

Your mind runs with plans as you continue to run away. Maybe you'll find a nice ship to stow away on, hopefully, one that leads to a nice planet that isn't so stuffy and rigid. Maybe like Homberto-σ, out of sight from the IPC and where everyone minded their own business.

For what felt like forever trying to shake your followers off, you finally came to a stop when you realized that only the sound of your footsteps could be heard in this labyrinth of hallways and corridors. Finally having shaken them off, you sigh as you climb up the stairs to the rooftop. 'Just jump down and sneak off to the nearest hiding place you can find.' You tug at your collar and scowl. 'When I escape, not even this collar will matter anymore. Not when I'm somewhere they won't reach me.'

You've escaped so many life-or-death situations before. Escaping slavery is no different.

"Slave [Y.Name], subordinate of Cornerstone Aventurine, you are surrounded!" A voice blares through a megaphone the moment you step onto the roof deck. You hiss as multiple glaring lights settle on you, shielding your face from them and the helicopters' onslaught of wind. "Surrender now before we are forced to take extreme measures."

Through the gaps of your fingers, you can barely make out the men in black pointing their guns at your head, the red hot of the laser making you a point-blank target. You click your tongue. Those bastards tricked you into thinking you were safe. Fuck. You couldn't even be mad. This was all on you.

"Oh, little pup. I guess I really should have listened to them when they told me to discipline you." Aventurine's seedy voice sighs behind you, smirking as he nonchalantly strides up to you. "Did you really have to do all this instead of taking the bet? Do you really hate the thought of playing with me, hm?"

"Fuck off."

"No can do, little one, you know how much I'm obsessed with you, right?" He chuckles, catching your chin between his thumb and index and forcing you to look into his eyes. Those Sigonian eyes are covered by the cloudy purple of his glasses, but even you can tell just how much he's enjoying this mess you've put yourself in. "You know I don't have a need for your skill. I could easily persuade anyone without trying, but I still let you stick around. Pup, I can't just back away from you when you know how much I want you."

You smile darkly. "That's cuz you're a sicko who likes tugging on the chain instead of being in it."

Those pretty eyes of his darken for a moment, embittered by the snarky comment at his past, before his hands trail down to your collar, hooking it with a finger and pulling on it. "Dear, while I usually have the patience for your tirades, I'd rather not do it today. You've humiliated me enough in front of the entire Corporation. So—" Pulling once again on your collar, he starts to lead you to the door. "— Let us depart without much hassle, okay?"

Humiliation sears your nerves like a hot metal, a warning growl eliciting from your mouth as he continues to tug you away from the rooftop. Close, you were so fucking close. Here you are breathing in the fresh night wind, a jump away from freedom, but then these IPC idiots all had you fooled. You don't care how many bullets will embed themselves into your skin, all you just needed to do was get away from this grip Aventurine has on you.

You grab the wrist pulling on you, yanking him towards you. His eyes widen before narrowing again, as if not believing that you still had the energy to fight like you don't have red laser points on your forehead. "[Y. Na—"

"Hey, you: S—"

You couldn't even get another syllable out. Your collar beats a few pulses before it starts squeezing your neck, crushing your windpipes and forcing you down on your knees as you choke on your blood. It sears hot around your neck and you collapse writhing on the ground as you sob and gurgle on your screams and congealed blood.

'WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY ME—' You can only curse and scream inside your head as you painfully thrash on the cement. '— A BILLION BASTARDS IN THE WORLD AND IT HAD TO BE FUCKING ME.'

Darkness is pushing in on you and the pain is making it too hard to go on, but you've always been a fighter. Even if you think that your squirming is pathetic and futile to the onlookers, you continue to tug and pull on the collar like you have a chance. Your ears are ringing and your eyes are too fucking blurry to see with, but the fight doesn't die down.

Aventurine places a soft palm on your hair. Even through the tears stinging your eyes, you can barely make out the faint expression on his face. Damned fucking bastard, damned Signonian, hypocrite and the fucking devil—!

He even has the audacity to look sad for you, as the light slips away from your eyes.

The first round is simple. Play a round of poker with him.

Aventurine hums delightedly as he shuffles the cards with clean and practised movements, looking right at home at the dealer's table he has sitting in his suite. You blankly look at the cards, not even an inch of a reaction from your side. He chuckles as he deals your cards.

"C'mon, look alive, dear." It's almost like he genuinely wants you to cheer up. "Look, I even poured out alcohol for you. It's not everyday that you get to taste Pier Point's most exquisite wine!"

You continue to stare blankly. You haven't given up yet, of course not, but... you can barely bring yourself to move.

When Aventurine is done dealing all the cards, he leans back on his chair and studies his opponent, just like he always has in the past. If you were acting normally, this would have been an easy win. After all, you always wore your heart on your sleeve and abhorred being told to control your emotions. You acted the way you felt— you curse when you anger, you boast when you're feeling smug, and you press your lips together and blush as he praises you for another job well done.

But now. Well. Bandaids cover the seared marks on your neck as well as your head after you've slammed it against the pavement during your delirious fit on the rooftop. Your arms are littered with purples and blues, the aftermath of a disciplinary session that went on throughout the night. Despite the abuse that Aventurine has (rightfully, in his mind) dealt to you, he had made sure to tend to you afterwards.

Settling your head on his lap, combing through the strands as he placed an icepack on your bruises. He hummed you an old children's rhyme from his home planet as you lay limp across the couch. You could barely move, mind unable to process the pain and despair of having an inch of freedom being ripped away from you. He had wiped away the tear that would fall from your eyes.

You couldn't feel comforted at all.

"This will be the first round out of four. Today, we'll make this a bit simple. Five quick rounds of Indian poker. If you're confident that your card is higher than mine, you can bet as much as you like. Not confident? Fold, and that won't count as a round. Loser has the lower card." He raises his glasses to his hair and smiles at you. "Understood?"

"Understood," you grunt. "I'm not a fuckin' idiot."

Aventurine only smirks. It irritates you, but you don't have much fire in you to snap at him.

The room is silent save for the clinking of chips against each other. The two of you cast a chip to the middle of the table. You raise your card to your forehead.

You cast two more chips. Aventurine casts three. You stare at the printed picture on his card and throw in another chip. He throws in another five. You frown.

"Fold."

"Ah~ You should've been more confident in yourself!" Aventurine chuckles as he begins to shuffle the deck to deal another round. You scowl at the Ace of Clubs in your hand, mocking you at your relinquished defeat. "Is a little intimidation all that's needed to make you submit? You weren't this docile before."

"Shut the fuck up and let's play again." He decides to stifle his laugh for the sake of your nerves.

"Raise." Your win, six of hearts to three of spades.

"Raise." Your win, queen of spades to jack of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been Aventurine's, ace of spades to king of spades.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, eight of clubs to six of hearts.

"Fold." Could've been yours, queen of hearts to 10 of clubs.

"Raise." Aventurine's win, nine of clubs to seven of spades.

Aventurine's practiced hands thumb through the cards as he begins to rearrange them again. His glass wine is almost empty, while yours is untouched. The man knows that you don't drink, so why would he...?

"Last round before one of us wins," Aventurine's voice lilts as he throws you your card. "How about we make it exciting? No one is allowed to fold this round." You frown at him but don't say anything. You cast another chip to the table, and he follows suit.

He has a 10 of spades pressed to his forehead, and your fingers dig deep into your skin.

'Oh please, there's other cards higher than a 10.' You remind yourself, but you gulp down your dry throat as your vision zeroes into his card. 'Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Anything. Please.' Aventurine notices your hurried breathing and smiles knowingly. You gulp whatever cowardice is rising in your throat and throw another chip.

"Raise." Fuck it. If this is the last round, then let's just ball.

He cocks his head, finding the motion unnecessary in this last round. But he sighs with a smile and plays along, casting his chips into the fray, "Then I'll raise too."

"This is the last round," you say, more so to remind yourself.

"Yep." He leans forward on the table and the fluorescent lights cast a shadow over those alluring eyes. "Nervous?"

'How could you say that? How could you taunt me like that? When you were just like me?'

You strengthen your resolve and glare up at him, the fire lighting back up in those blank eyes. "I hope you go to hell."

You throw your card to the middle, with the rest of the chips.

Jack of Clubs.

Aventurine cocks his head at you, smiling as usual.

"Congratulations, pet."

One would expect that Pier Point was the peak embodiment of wealth and luxury, being the base of the Interastral Peace Corporation. But the brightly something shone the darker its shadows.

Aventurine just so happened to like those shadows, even shrugging off those fancy clothes of his just so that he could find solace in those sleazy bars and play rounds of poker with dead-eyed salarymen and recently fired hopefuls.

The surroundings didn't fare any better. Amongst the dying neon lights, Pier Point's worst neighborhoods featured a just as nasty environment. Drunkards lying beside dumpsters with shattered beer bottles around them, cats hissing at each other in a fight for survival, and abandoned children peeking at them around the corner as they lay in wait for an opening.

Aventurine has shedded his elaborate peacock coat in favor of a simple white button-down and slacks. Despite the simplicity, he still looked out of place amongst the rags, though it made people think of him as a fearless idiot rather than run away at the sight of the IPC's elite.

"Mmm, that robin is indeed very plump," the blonde idiot remarks out of nowhere. "Quite out of place for this kind of area."

You pay him very little attention, mindlessly kicking the broken half of a bottle with your heel. It bumps into a smelly bastard who shoots you an irritated look, but quickly cowers when you return it tenfold. "Maybe it's been feeding on the leftovers of you prissy IPC folk," you spat, taking a look at the fat robin for yourself.

He takes no notice of the slight towards his kind and instead cocks his head at the cat slinking around the corner. "Well. Its health has attracted a rather unwelcome predator." He turns to you, with a mischievous smile. "How about we make this round two? Who will die first, the cat or the robin?"

Seriously? You were betting your freedom on something as stupid as this? You consider the cat— snarling, insipid thing, balding and thin as a stick— then the robin, tweeting fearfully at its perch on the graffitied wall. "Am betting on the cat. Could eat the fat thing while you go on another gamble."

He laughs, sliding on his shades as he walks into the seedy bar. "Then I have no choice but to bet on the poor robin. Let's have some fun before we see the results of our bet."

The cat is lying on the ground, heaving its last few breaths. Its yellow eyes are barely peeking out from its eyelids, probably delirious and starving in its last moments. You poke it slightly with your foot.

It meows pitifully. You instantly feel bad.

It might just be the ugliest thing you've laid your eyes on, but even the ugliest creatures deserve some sort of companionship in their last moments. It hisses weakly when you draw your hand close, but it can't do anything but relent as you stroke its hairless head. It purrs a bit, ragged and breathy, but the heaving of its ribbed chest slows as it relaxes.

"Don't do that," you murmur. "Just... just be quiet. It's okay."

The quiet steps of leather shoes stop beside you, and Aventurine watches on in silence as you comfort the dying thing. His gaze moves from the cat to the robin, still perched on top of the wall with his fat little chest and beady eyes. It hasn't moved from its position at all, just... staring and staring.

"So—"

"I know," you murmur, focus still on the poor thing. "I know, okay?"

The fat robin chirps again, tittering with its mocking chirp, before it flies away into the sky.

Your cat closes its eyes shut, and its skinny chest finally slows to a stop.

Aventurine stays with you for a while as you find a nice spot of earth to bury it.

No matter how much you want to believe your preconceived image of the blonde gambler— irresponsible, materialistic, money-wasting— you can't just make up lies about him in your head when all of his missions end on a win for him. Right now, he's heading for another mission in a galaxy far away again. And like always, he's dragged you along whether you like it or not.

"Come on, you like sightseeing other planets!" He laughs on the space warp going there. "Makes your blood pumping, scouting out the possible planets you can run away to."

"If I can run away," you grumble, not wanting to acknowledge him as you stare out the window and into the starry expanse of galaxies and space. This sight has always unnerved you— a reminder of how small and insignificant you are. How small and insignificant this collar hand on your life.

"It's not like you to be such a downer," he huffs. He pats the empty seat beside him. "Come, come. Drink with me. Ah, but no alcohol though. Don't want you trying to bite my entourage as soon as we get off." He's referring to the time that you had two sips of the lightest alcohol the ship had in stock before you absolutely wasted and decided that running away to the next planet was a good idea.

You grunt but sit on the floor next to his feet. He doesn't dare to correct you but only regards you with amusement before handing you a glass of sparkling water. You've always had this weird insistence of maintaining your master-slave status quo, despite abhorring your status as a slave. You followed his commands to the tee no matter how dangerous but refused to budge whenever he insisted on treating you like an equal.

"Don't get me wrong," you had snapped at him angrily one time. "As long as I'm in this stupid collar, I am not your fucking equal. So don't go around treatin' me like one, got it?!"

"You got the briefing, right? I'll be dismantling an underground operation on our next planet, so I'll be making good use of your Spirit Whisper." You sip your drink and make no reaction. "I'm sure you have no complaints about that, right?"

"Like I have a fuckin' choice."

He laughs into his cocktail. "Right. How could I forget?" Your eyes narrow into slits when he threads his thin fingers through your hair, but you don't make any move to remove them. "Unfortunately, this isn't an operation that I can just charm and gamble my way through, so you'll be doing a lot of heavy lifting. But so long as I have you, my dearest pet, I'm sure we'll be done before we know it."

You fight the urge to give into his tender touch, massaging your scalp as he combs your strands, though your eyelids are drooping now. He chuckles fondly when you rest your chin on the sofa, right next to his thigh. Adorable, how easily you succumb to the smallest of physical affection.

"Just take a nap," he hums. "We'll be there before you know it."

Aventurine's lavish outfit is a stark contrast against the nitty and gritty environment of the gambling den the two of you are staking out right now. Some of the men leer at him when he passes by, their faces painted by sweat and malice, and the promiscuous women bat their eyes at him with painted-on sweet smiles. No one bats an eye at the collared servant trailing behind him.

You try not to wince as you accidentally make eye contact with another slave, them kneeling on the ground with only rags to cover them and you have the luxury to look away as you grip the sleeves of your ironed button-down. You decide to just fix your eyes on Aventurine's back for the rest of the journey.

The next room you enter— less room to be honest, and more... coliseum-y— features a fighting ring where the crowd cheers on two dogs circling each other under the fluorescent spotlights. The other one, bigger and scarred, is baring his teeth while bearing a deep red gash across his body. The smaller one is shivering but giving the same energy back, snarling in intimidation while also sporting a noticeable limp. Despite the darkness of the room, you don't miss the way Aventurine's face contorts into disgust as he looks at the fight and surveys the crowd of spectators.

"Disgusting," he murmurs. You don't say anything back, though you doubt he could hear you amidst all this cheering. You used to bet on dogs too, back in the day. It was quick and easy money, and you had better things to worry about than the fate of some mutt.

While you're focused on the pathetic dog show in front of you, he steps to your side and nudges you with his elbow. "Willing to bet?" He asks, eyes focused on the show. "As our third round."

"From the look on your face, I thought you hated this kind of thing."

"I do, but I'm not putting money in the pot like the rest of them. This is strictly between you and me with no money involved." He turns his gaze to you. "So, what about it?"

You study the dogs. They've been circling each other for a while now, and the crowd's been growing more and more agitated by the lack of fighting. You think of the dogs you've bet on before, how the smaller ones had just an equal chance of success at winning as the bigger ones. Unconsciously, you tug at your collar. It matches perfectly with the stupid dogs down below.

"Bet," you huff. "I'm taking the smaller one."

You don't know why. It'd make sense to just bet on the bigger and badder, but maybe it's that ferocity in his eyes even if it's overshadowed by the growling menace that has you feeling for it. It's stupid, you know, betting your freedom on a hunch and emotions. But...

If it could have a chance at winning... then why can't you?

...

... Are you destined to die, just like it?

... Are you destined to die as a slave for another IPC slave?

... Will your death be just as morbid and pathetic as the mongrel, his innards spilling onto the pavement while the winner is pulled away by the collar, with no prize but another day of freedom?

This is round three out of four. You've only won one so far.

The very next round could kill you. Could completely sign away your freedom.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Why'd you have to go feeling sorry for the stupid shit? Why'd you have to empathize with its futile fight? Why'd you have to go see yourself in it? Now you could very much share its fate, dying pathetically serving for people who never cared about you in the first place.

Shit shit shit shit shit. The pressure of the bet has always been at the back of your mind, niggling at your brain. But now you can feel its heavy weight squeezing around your heart, in perfect rhythm with the phantom choking of your collar. If you don't win the next, you could very much—

Something light touches your shoulder and you lurch back like you had been stricken there. It disgusts and scares you, sending both repulsion and fear through your body like maggots wriggling into your system.

With a faltering outstretched palm, Aventurine's eyes widen behind his glasses. He sees something on your face, enough to make him bite down whatever cocky shit he has to say, and turns his back towards you.

"Let's go," he says, just barely audible above the crowd. "We still have a mission to complete.

"This is some silly joke of yours, isn't it?" Aventurine maintains his cool facade, but even then there is disgust in his tone as he speaks to Jade. "Giving a slave to another... you must think this is hilarious."

"Amusing, maybe, but this little one is too precious to let loose in the wild." Jade strokes your head, and while you curse in warning, you don't move to attack. "A user of Spirit Whisper, a rarity even among those in Pteruges-V. Don't you think it'd be better if they served the Amber Lord rather than going back to their pretty crimes?"

"Then give them to someone else." Aventurine turns his back on you and Jade. "Since when did I need help closing a deal?"

"Well, I just thought that you were lonely."

"And you think gifting me a slave of all things would help me?"

"Oh, just give them a chance. I'm sure you'll like this one. Look." Jade raises your chin with a finger, lifting your bruised face to the light. You shoot her a glare, plotting murder in your head, but you don't try to fight back. You might have tried once, probably, and learned your lesson. "Don't you love the fire in their eyes, even after being collared and brutally beaten?"

It is sick. It is sick how Jade can just easily muse about your past abuse to his face. To him. It is sick how the IPC thinks that Aventurine would even be happy about this... gift, let alone accept it.

"I appreciate the... thought." Jade smiles at the barely held back distaste in his voice. "But I'd really rather not."

"Oh, I see..." Jade hums, tilting her head to scrutinize you. "But no one else will accept you since you're too feisty for their liking. So I guess..."

"We'll just have to kill you."

Your face pales. Aventurine has never been quick to turn around.

"Fine. I'll accept," he says with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. "I'll accept your gift, so just..." He sighs, massaging his temples and waving Jade off. "Go away and let us be."

"Is this some sort of savior complex you have going on?" Despite being a slave, you haven't really learned how to hold that spiteful tongue of yours. Half of the fault lies with Aventurine, seeing how he's never bothered to scold you for it. He looks away from the reports in his hand and smiles at you.

"Oh, whatever do you mean, my dear pup?" Your bitter scowl is pushed down even further at his sweet tone and you scoff.

"I mean," you say, gesturing all around you. "You never scold me, you give me good food, you do all these nice things for me. You don't beat and lash at me like others do. Are you feeling sorry? As one slave to another?"

"Personally, I've never heard of a slave complain about treating this well."

"It's weird." You frown. "It's weird and creepy. All these niceties yet I can tell that you don't even mean half of 'em. Your heart isn't in it. You're just doing it for the sake of being nice. So I don't get it." You cross your arms and lean on the couch, deep in thought. "If you don't even mean it, why even bother?"

Aventurine hums, studying your silent and pondering figure before returning to his papers. You don't follow up your complaints with anything else, and the two of you are left to stew in the silence.

... Why even bother indeed?

"Last round and you only have one win, pup." His sickly sweet voice croons, tapping his perfect nails on the table as he watches your expression. "Are you excited?"

Normally you'd bite back, but today you thickly swallow. The looming sense of doom continues to hammer into the back of your skull, spiking your nerves with every beat and shaking your senses. You can barely feel your fingers. You can barely feel except for the fear coiling around your heart.

"... Yes." You can't even barely say a syllable.

Through the rushing blood of your ears, you can barely make out the sound of your master rummaging through something. Something metallic clicks into place and he slides it to the center of the table. You will yourself to look up—

A shiny revolver lies on the table.

A surprised cry elicits from your mouth and you jolt back. The sight of a weapon is enough to startle your poor nerves now and even more so the expectant look glinting in Aventurine's eyes. He smirks and leans forward.

"How about I make an offer you can't refuse?" Not that you were in a position to do so. "Since this is the fourth round, how about we go all in?"

"Russian Roulette. Whoever wins stays alive—"

—And the other lays dead in a puddle of their own blood.

It goes unsaid, but the moment you locked eyes with Aventurine, it was clear that the both of you were thinking of the same thing. You could ponder upon why the Aventurine would stake his own life over something so trivial as your freedom, but you aren't thinking anymore. All you want is your freedom. All you want is to get away.

You don't think further as you wrap your fingers around the handle of the gun and press it to your temple. You pull the trigger. Only a clean click follows, the chamber changing cases. You slide the gun over to him.

He calmly picks it up and slots it to his temple too. "Why are you so desperate to get away from me, pup?" He cocks his head. "I would give you everything you ask for, should you just ask. I treat you with care and as a friend. Is being with me so bad you'd put your life on the line for your freedom?"

He pulls the trigger. Nothing happens. He slides it over to you.

"Even if you go back to your old life, what would be the point? You'll go back to stealing whatever you can off nobles, treating your fellow street rats like fools and pawns before dashing off to your next victim. Would that give you happiness? Fulfillment? Is that the life you prefer instead of being next to me?"

"Sh... Shut up." You sound drained, but he presses on.

"You can have it all, in the price of a collar. Does it not sound good enough to you?"

'Why... Why of all people is he...'

"Do you really hate being owned by me?"

"Why are you..." You choke on your words, grip around the handle trembling. "Why are you saying those things?"

Aventurine has never seen you cry. Not once. Not even when he had to punish you for running away. You could be weak and beaten, but you never willingly cried. But now...

He raises a hand to cover his smile.

"I thought... I thought you of all people would understand." Tears drop to your lap and your hand lowers the gun from your temple. "The pain, the humiliation of being a slave, of being owned. It doesn't matter how nice you are to me. I just want to be free. Shouldn't that be enough?"

Silence overtakes the room as Aventurine takes in the unfamiliar sight before him. Here you were, his greatest treasure, the most vulnerable than you ever were. Sobbing and weeping with a gun in hand, the pressure of the bet finally getting to you.

He moves. "... So this is it? For your pride?"

You wince, looking at him in betrayal. "You... I thought you of all people would at least understand..." You stay silent, the words forming on your tongue but too afraid to sound them out. Then your expression twists into anger, then resolute determination, before you wipe away your tears and glare at him like you always did. "I was wrong. You're scum. Just like the rest of 'em."

The moment the head of the gun points at his head, the collar clamps down and chokes you till your throat cracks and bleeds. The current of electricity crackling your nerves is just as painful and torturous as last time, but you grit your bloodied teeth and press the gun further.

Aventurine looks dazed, staring up into your bloodied face. If you weren't in such agonizing pain you would have laughed at how stupid he looks.

"[Y. Name]..."

"I hope you go to hell," you hiss through the bloody pain. "And I hope that when I get there, I'll never have to fucking see you again."

You pull the trigger to that beautiful face of his, but nothing happens once again. Fuck. It falls to the ground as the pain overwhelms you and you finally stagger. It lays among the specks of blood on the carpet, along with its empty... case...

Your eyes flick to Aventurine, still caught off guard and staring at you with wide eyes. Hesitantly, he reaches out to your convulsing body and cradles your head. "[Y. Name]..." He says, still sounding dazed. "Why would you..."

"Fuckin'... coward..." You grit out. "I was right... from the very start..."

Aventurine watches as you succumb to the pain and collapse in his arms. Despite being unconscious, the collar continues to shock and choke you, and more and more blood spouts from the side of your mouth and into the carpet. He tries to wipe it, despite it continuing like a fountain, before giving up and stroking your hair as the pain continues to intrude on you in your sleep.

"I know," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your eyelid. "You know it as well as me." He presses a kiss onto the other.

"You were never a bet I was willing to wager."

[lilylovestowrite]

We all know that Aventurine's love language is definitely gift giving! So I would like to request aventurine spoiling his s/o with so much money and gifts. At first reader was thankful and also flustered with all of the gifts he provided for her, but later reader started to become annoyed cause he's been spoiling them too much, so one day they decided to text aventurine about this matter. They only just called his name and he already thought that they needed money so he sent the money. Reader was surprised at first but then got annoyed and decided to scold him in the chat (to which aventurine didn't take them seriously and even teases them, finding amusement with his lover's anger) make this a playful banter between the two and at the end, aventurine decided to meet up with them to pamper them, but this time, with affection ✨

MUST BE FUNNY, IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Aventurine x GN! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You decide to confront your boyfriend over his overzealous spending habits. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I love Aventurine SO MUCH. I want to hold him and cherish him but I think he deserves to be thrown down a flight of stairs because he’s such a brat. I am so normal about this man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

‘I saw you eyeing this crystal swan the other day. When you and I get married, I’ll buy the whole store and decorate our venue with them if it’s to your liking- Kakavasha’

You are going to kill your boyfriend. 

You are going to kill your boyfriend over a Swarovski Swan on your bedside table. And thirty bottles of the same Dior perfume you wore once around him. And every piece of designer clothing he’s gifted you. And that one time he rented out a whole cruise ship just to play tag with you over a moonlit river. Well, perhaps not the last one. You liked the idea, the execution? A little overkill.

But this? Overkill can’t even begin to explain how much Aventurine has been spending on you recently. Just before you started dating, he would regularly spoil you with large bouquets of your favourite flowers and a few lovely pieces of jewellery. It was sweet at first: you remember blushing and hiding your flustered face behind your palm, only for him to kiss your hand and usher it away. “Stop, you look super cute when you’re flustered,” he’d say, but now, a deep pit of shame hollows the joy out of every gift he gives you. He gives, and gives, and spoils you, but what do you have to offer? 

You do appreciate his gestures, and it feels lovely to be kitted out in the finest gossamer, or the softest of silks. The aroma of expensive perfume smells less chemical-ly and manufactured compared to your old bottles. There isn’t a day that goes by where your flower vases in your house aren’t filled with high-end flowers. It’s affection, sure, but, you wish he didn’t feel as if your love is something to be bought. 

With Aventurine, you have to be careful with your communication. He may play off other people’s rude comments about his origin or his affiliation with the IPC. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. But you know how much he cherishes you, and you don’t fit into the bracket of ‘other people’. If you seem too dismissive of his efforts, you fear that he may feel rejected. Picturing his sad face drooping makes you only want to let him coddle you, but you can’t allow this to happen anymore. You ponder your text carefully, before hitting send. 

You: 

Kakavasha. 

Peacock <3: 

My love? 

Are you upset with me?

I’m so sorry, let me handle it. 

Oh, wow. That was a quick fix. You sigh in relief and put your phone down, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the covers. Another ping erupts from your phone, and the notification nearly makes you turn around and sob. 

Peacock <3 has sent you 1,000,000 Credits

You: 

STOP SENDING ME MONEY

I’M NOT YOUR SUGAR BABY FFS 

So much for being ‘careful with your communication’, but 1,000,000 credits is insanity! Does he think he can buy you off? You sigh and watch the text bubbles load as he types. 

Peacock <3:

Darling, what do you mean?

I want to spoil you! 

And if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll make it up to you!

You:

Then. Maybe. ASK

‘What’s wrong?’

BEFORE SENDING ME A SHITLOAD OF CREDITS

Peacock <3:

What’s wrong, angel? 

You reread your messages and realise how aggressive you're coming off, so you decide to talk to him face to face. Surely, his suave tongue and pretty face won't distract you from the matter at hand. Right?

You:

Let’s call.

You have started a call with Peacock <3

“Kakavasha, stop sending me money!” You hiss the second he picks up the phone. It’s the early morning, and hues of liquid sunlight paint your lover’s skin in light gold. Streaks of light coming through the blinds of his window shine through his gorgeous eyes, turning them translucent like opalescent marble. Aventurine gives you a tiny lopsided grin, the same one that creeps onto his face when he’s plotting something, and you don’t like it one bit. “

“How else am I supposed to show my adoration for you?” His silken, honeyed voice echoes through the phone. You have to stop yourself from giggling at his lovely voice, the cadence rising and falling masterfully, all perfectly orchestrated to let you listen to him instead of arguing. 

But you don’t take the bait yet. 

“I don’t know, maybe spend time with me?” You reply, but you can’t conceal the blush on your face when you realise that he’s only just woken up. His light blond hair is tousled and one of the cat cakes stretches on his lap. Although Aventurine dresses to impress, it’s the domesticated, sweet mornings where he truly shines. 

“I do spend time with you. We went to see the Opera just three nights ago!”

“Without money being spent, Kakavasha. I want a simple, romantic date. No renting out hotels, no extravagant jewellery, and no mariachi band like that one time-” 

“In my defence, I was completely wasted-” He interjects, giggling softly at the memory of planning a lovely beach date after consuming wine like water, and then ordering a band on a whim.

“You were barely awake, I drew a moustache on you.” You muse. Watching Aventurine’s face morph into an angry pout, like a kitten, makes you emit an ugly laugh. 

“That was you?” He gasps, clutching his heart with faux sorrow. Dramatically falling back on his black pillow, his golden locks are spread. Aventurine’s half lidded gaze and light pink blush makes you want to crawl into bed next to him and trace patterns into his hands, and his lovely eyes would-

“Don’t distract me from the matter at hand! Please stop spending on me, sweetheart. I’m not saying I don’t like your love, I want it! Just not in such an excessively materialistic way, you know?” 

This comment breaks Aventurine’s suave attitude. He blinks at you through the camera, positively perplexed. His eyes are wide and shocked, resembling that of a deer tasting cardboard. “H-how else am I supposed to show my love for you?” 

“Well, how do I show my love for you?”

Aventurine’s eyes look up, trying to recall: “You hold my hands,” he lists one on his fingers,  “listen to me when I speak, you support me through hard times,” he smiles warmly at you, flashing a toothy grin that makes his nose scrunch up cutely, bring back pebbles that remind you of me…” A devious smirk makes its way into his face and you prepare yourself to interject: “and you bite my as-” 

“Enough!” You reprimand him, but your tone is soft. “See? I don’t buy things for you to feel loved. You’re much more than a bank, even if other people don’t make you feel that way.” Suddenly bashful, Kakavasha looks away from you. Perhaps unused to such affections, he hugs the cat cake on his lap closer to his chest. 

“I just want to give you the best of the best.” He replies defensively, and you sigh softly.

“You are the best of the best, Kakavasha.” 

“Then,” his voice cracks in an attempt to hide his shyness, “let’s meet up at your place. Let’s stay inside and watch a movie? I hear that’s a popular date idea.” 

“Perfect. My door is open, we can do face masks and-” The call is interrupted by one of the cat cakes jumping on his head, causing him to tumble off the bed and clutch onto the sheets for stability. Instead, his finger hits the end call button. You giggle softly. For all of his cocky displays, Aventurine, at his truest form, is just a little bit of a dork. 

Said dork knocks at your door, dressed in a lovely black dress shirt and his white pants. You suddenly feel a little self conscious, in your bunny slippers and oversized dress shirt. But the way he hugs you and lifts you off the ground slightly for a kiss, it makes you feel like a national treasure. You waddle your way onto the couch, still hugging, and collapse into the plush cushions.

“So, what movie are we feeling today?” Aventurine pulls a blanket over the two of you, and your eyes brighten with an idea. “The Great Gatsby?” 

“Mm, tragic ending. No. Let’s hold that thought.” He leans over and gently pries the remote out of your hand. “Instead,” he kisses your nose and pushes you into the couch a little more, “let me show you even more ways I can show my affection for you.” He whispers, and captures your lips for a deep kiss…

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

Million dollar man

How does your life by his side look like?

General masterlist

Being Aventurine's "Lucky Charm🍀" includes:

🎰 Always staying by his side. If he has to attend business meetings you sit next to him, when he goes to parties with his coworkers you are his plus one, during his gambling sessions you sit on his lap and cheer on him. He is never seen without you.

🎰 If he finds himself in tough situation, Aventurine holds your hand for good luck. It calms him down rather than giving him additional luck (he doesn't care, he has plenty of it already) but it doesn't stop him from calling you his Ladybug, Shooting star or Goldfish. Usually he shortens it to Goldie. He kisses your hand before making his move in games, makes you blow on dice before throwing it or allows you to pick which numbers you bet on.

🎰 Aventurine shares his monetary gains with you with no restrains. "Don't worry about anything, just spend" - that's what he says, letting you know the tab is on him. He is happy to finally be able to take care of those dear to him after being so powerless for years. Providing for you, keeping you safe and well fed makes him feel like he does a good job as a man.

🎰 You are always dressed in the most expensive clothes, not even the ones from high-end fashion brands, he wouldn't like you to accidentally match outfits with any other woman in the room. All your dresses are made for you exclusively, tailored by best fashion designers from the most delicate fabrics.

Your jewelry matches his, gold with aventurine stones. There is one necklace you never take off, golden peacock feather with green stone in place of it's eye. Aventurine gave it to you as a reminder, so you never forget you belong with him.

🎰 He shows you off on every occasion, posts you on social media and proudly introduces you to his work colleagues. Because of that you sometimes assume that he invest so much into your looks, cosmetics and clothes just because he wants to flaunt his wealth, but this couldn't be further from truth. While he enjoyed jealous looks from another men he pampered you solely for his own viewing pleasure. He would never choose a woman based on what others think about how his partner should look like, if he keeps you by his side it's because you're exactly his type and not because he thinks you would make him look more expensive in other people's eyes.

🎰 He makes you count his money while you sit on his lap. Of course there's too much for you to reckon, stacks of coins in front of you seemed to only grow. Aventurine adores that concentrated expression on your face, the way you lick your lips with the tip of your tongue and scrunch your nose. He loves how you switch from common language to your native one when you count, especially if you have regional accent, and he just sometimes needs to hear your voice. You speak in steady, slow rhythm, quietly mouthing numbers and his heartbeat slows down to match that pace. Aventurine finds it meditative.

🎰 He's afraid that you aren't aware of how precious you are to him. He knows it's very hard for him to be vulnerable after years of being abused and constantly keeping his guard up, so he might seem emotionally detached even with all the money he throws at you and physical affection he baths you in.

The last thing he wants is you thinking you're just a pretty little thing attached to his arm like an ornament. So he tries to show you his love without confessing it directly. He shields you with his own body during fights, he makes time for you no matter how busy he is, he remembers every little detail about you from your favourite food to the size of your shoe, listens attentively to everything you say and frequently does little acts of service.

He ties you shoelaces if you struggle with it in hurry, gives you his jacket when it gets cold, reminds you to hydrate yourself, scolds you if you skip a meal and takes care of every problem before you even mention it to him. His beautiful, unique eyes always find you and watch over you, under his protective gaze nothing will be allowed to harm you.

[aventurineswife]

Aww, no more Yor!Reader? Well, I guess it would have been overdone eventually. 😅

How about I share an idea instead about Reader acting as a lawyer/legal consult for Aventurine? (Bouncing off of my friend’s recent obsession with lawyer characters lol.)

So, Reader is a lawyer studying the laws of various worlds. Their work laptop is full of legal texts and documents, which they use to keep track of information gained and help make sure Aventurine doesn’t step too hard on someone’s toes. coughsunliketopazonbelobogcoughs

Reader is also partially the reason why Aventurine was able to get away with attacking the Astral Express — by taking his and Ratio’s witness accounts of their “meeting” with Sunday and the power of the Order being forced on Aventurine to brainwash him on threat of death within 17 hours. (I know I saw a post pointing out how Sunday basically broke diplomatic immunity by doing this, tho I can’t remember who. 🫠) Who can say for sure that Aventurine threatening to detonate a Stellaron wasn’t the result of (him struggling against) the Order influencing him? Reader can even point out that if the Family tried to go after Aventurine, Sunday’s actions coupled with the Family’s lying about death being impossible in the Dreamscape would be grounds for a counter lawsuit.

Emphasis on Reader partially being why Aventurine got away with his gamble. Even without Reader being Aventurine’s lawyer, the IPC’s got a fuck ton of money. 😅 Reader being there just makes things a lot faster and more convenient.

Reader’s pissed about Aventurine gambling his life like that, tho. 💀

“I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL WHEN DEALING WITH [ACHERON] AND WHATAYA DO?! YOU GET FUCKING HAM-SLICED AND YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE!!!!! 💢💢💢”

“Objection! Gambling with Your Life is Not a Legal Strategy!”

Summary: You find yourself grappling with the aftermath of Aventurine’s latest reckless escapade—one involving ham-slicing, black holes, and intergalactic legal battles. As his ever-resourceful and exasperated legal advisor, you’re left to clean up the mess while Aventurine, the ever-smug gambler and IPC executive, teases you with his charm. Beneath the banter, a glimpse of sincerity from Aventurine leaves you questioning whether there’s more to him than his reckless bravado.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Crackfic, Lawyer!Reader, Dubious Morality, Fluff and Angst, Overworked (and probably underpaid or not) Reader, Banter and Wit, Slow-Burn Romance (implied), Reader Yelling at Aventurine (deserved tbh).

Warnings: Mild language (Reader vents a lot), Legal jargon overload, Brief mentions of violence and manipulation, Reader and Aventurine arguing, Crack-level absurdity in legal scenarios, Aventurine's traumatic backstory hinted at but not deeply explored.

A/N: Thank you for your understanding 🙏💖 and I hope you like this! This may be a bit ooc and I mostly have forgotten a lot of things so yeah🧍‍♀️

You glared at Aventurine from behind your laptop, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you typed out yet another damage control memo. The smug blond executive lounged across from you in his plush office chair, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. His perpetual grin was as infuriating as ever, even with fresh bandages peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

"Really, darling," he drawled, twirling his peacock-feather earring, "I think you're overreacting. Things turned out splendidly, didn’t they? I'm still here, the Stellaron didn’t detonate, and Sunday's little 'dream empire' has a massive PR disaster on their hands. All thanks to your impeccable legal wizardry, might I add."

You slammed your laptop shut with enough force to make him flinch. "Splendidly?! You were HAM-SLICED, Aventurine. HAM. SLICED. And then YEETED INTO A BLACK HOLE! Do you even comprehend how many laws of physics, ethics, and basic sanity you violated in a single day?"

He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "But you saved me, didn’t you? My charming legal champion, swooping in with airtight arguments and enough loopholes to make the Family’s lawyers cry."

"Don’t you dare flatter me right now." You jabbed a finger at him, your other hand pointing to the stack of legal briefs on your desk. "Do you know how hard it is to defend you when you keep pulling stunts like that? I had to argue in front of three intergalactic tribunals that Sunday's Dreamscape Order literally brainwashed you into threatening a Stellaron detonation!"

Aventurine leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And you did it flawlessly. Honestly, I should hire you full-time. Leave that dusty legal research behind and become my personal strategist. Think of the fun we’d have!"

"Fun?" you repeated, incredulous. "FUN?! Watching you gamble your life away every other Tuesday isn’t my idea of fun, Kakavasha."

His grin faltered for the briefest moment at the mention of his real name, but he recovered quickly, standing and striding over to your desk. "You know I can’t resist a good gamble," he said softly, his voice unusually earnest. "It’s who I am. But having you there… knowing you’ve got my back? That’s the only reason I can keep playing the game."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. "That’s… disturbingly sweet," you muttered. "But it doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re reckless, irresponsible, and—"

"Charming?" he offered with a wink.

"Infuriating," you finished, swatting his hand away as he tried to steal one of your pens. "Now sit down and let me finish drafting this counter-lawsuit. If Sunday or the Family tries to come after you again, I want them buried so deep in legal hell they’ll be begging for the black hole treatment."

Aventurine laughed, a genuine, unguarded sound that made your chest tighten in a way you refused to examine. "You’re one of a kind, [Name]. I don’t deserve you, but I’m keeping you anyway."

"You don’t have me," you shot back, ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck. "I’m just here to make sure you don’t get sued—or sliced—again."

"Of course," he said smoothly, settling back into his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. "But I’ll win you over eventually. It’s only a matter of time."

You rolled your eyes and reopened your laptop, trying to focus on your work. But as you typed out another legal argument to shield Aventurine from his latest bout of insanity, you couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely unbearable.

[gay-dorito-dust]

From HSR men, who is most likely to wear clothes that you’ve knitted or crocheted for them if you were their S/O?

Argenti would wear near enough anything you’d crocheted for him, he didn’t care if it was well made or had a couple of loose ends, he will wear it either way and with the upmost pride.

He treated anything you made him as though it were priceless treasures that could never be replicated as anything made by hands that weren’t yours didn’t hold the same sentiment.

He sings your praises so much and so often that many thoughts you’ve woven your gifts for him out of pure gold rather then the standard wool.

Them: it’s just a knitted rose cardigan, what’s so important about it?

Argenti: it’s not just a knitted rose cardigan, it’s a knitted rose cardigan my beloved had woven with their own hands with nothing but time and patience on their side, so it would be best to respect their craft for what it is.

Them: and what’s that?

Argenti: art

Aventurine could buy pretty much anything and yet the most priceless things in his possession were the things you’ve made him by your own hands.

He will try anything and everything you’ve made in the past and wear it as though it was apart of some latest fashion trend. He wears your hard work with pride and appreciation for the talent you possess.

You were possibly the only person to think of him whilst making clothes and little crochet trinkets that he now fiddles with his left hand whenever he was scared midst a high stakes gamble.

Aventurine doesn’t allow for anyone to touch the things you’ve made him, no matter what their relationship to him is as you made those things for him and him alone, that and he didn’t want others to tug on it roughly or handle it heavy handedly to the point it ruins the crochet peacock you made him.

The clothes and items you made for him along with anything else were his comfort items that he’s grown a deep attachment towards, and he would always try to keep them in pristine condition. You’ll never catch him without something you’ve made on him.

Welt Yang loves and cherished everything you e made for him and will always have it on him at all times whenever he needed to feel your presence close by when you’re apart.

It puts both his heart and mind at ease.

He wears the scarf you made him religiously but the moment where he had to engage in combat, he’s carefully peeling it off of him and tucking it away safely to prevent it from getting damaged.

He didn’t feel it was right to wear the scarf you spent hours working on during combat, where it would take one wrong move and ruin the whole thing.

Other than that Welt always wore anything you’ve made him as a silent expression of his thankfulness for you and the effort you put into everything you made. He loved them all equally, but nothing topped the dark brown/beige scarf you gifted him first.

The scarf had become a prominent article of clothing of Welt’s that it would become a main staple of his usual outfit, so much so to the point where people would easily recognise it’s absence should he ever take it off. That’s how often he wears it.

Gepard loves the sweaters that you knitted for him and would wear them no matter the weather.

It could be warm as shit and Gepard would still be wearing your sweaters regardless. Not because he felt as though he was expected to wear it, but because it had become his most favoured piece of clothing.

Serval and Lynx would mention about how he never seems to part from the light blue sweater with white snowflake deigns on it, and would ask whether or not this had anything to do with you; only to bear witness their brother’s face become red as a cherry as he attempted to find any excuse that would evade him of any answer all of their teasing.

He fails and his sisters -mainly serval- tease him restlessly for being puddy in your hands.

Gepard was more often seen in his armour due to his job but the moment he gets to be rid of it after a long day, he immeditly puts on the sweater you made for him and let’s out a audible sigh of relief as he then burrows his face into the soft, breathable fabric.

If anyone had asked where he go the sweater from he’d scratch the back of his head and say that the sweater was one of a kind, before adding on that you were the one who made it for him.

Needless to say it didn’t take much for any to know just how much he adored the sweater, from the way he spoke fondly, to the soft caressing the light blue sweater between his thumb and finger. He wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think he was.