hey gorjous im just curious will you ever write for aventurine?by the way loveeee your works
rose-tinted glasses & the scent of you — aventurine
summary. you’re offered a chance to win close to a million credits. only issue is, you suck at poker. luckily, some blond man with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen comes to your aid.
notes. who is aventurine and no i will never write for him. it is 3:30am and i am now going to sleep goodnight!!!!
warnings. the dude your playing poker with is an asshole and says some strange things, i guess a bit of power imbalance, gn reader but referred to as ‘beautiful’ or ‘gorgeous,’ light cussing, i don’t know how to play poker and i fight the gods trying to write aventurine.
“So… tell me… what made you think you could win?”
The older man stares you down with those awful brown eyes. They flicker even darker than black itself in the low lights of the VIP room he’s dragged you into.
You glance up from your deck of cards. Your fingers are trembling. You swallow and tell the man, “I never even agreed to play this game with you.”
The man leans back in his chair. He merely rolls his eyes. The woman over his shoulder—and she’s a gorgeous woman. She looks much too young for him—giggles at his antics. She looks more like a prize than anything.
Your eyes snap to the man’s again. “And I don’t want to be your arm candy.”
“Oh, but that’s what you were made for.” The man yawns as if he could be doing anything else with his time. And he could have; he was rich. Filthy rich. He paid for women, cars, and every high end restaurant in this district that was under his name one way or another. All his. He could have been off on his yacht somewhere in the ocean for all you cared, sipping a nice martini.
But, no.
He’s here. And he wants you.
Some lowly office worker. You knew the gut feeling when you stepped into this casino, and you had ignored it. Now, you were kicking yourself repeatedly for it.
“Play.”
You almost consider throwing your cards down onto the table and storming out, but the room is closed off by two big burly men standing on either side of it.
And if you give up, he wins.
But he’s already winning, anyway.
“Play the game,” he repeats, this time firmer.
“I’m folding,” you said with just as much vitriol. You drop your cards onto the green velvet and swallow your pride.
The man hums with triumph, drops his deck—of course, a royal flush glimmers back at you on his pristine customised playing cards—and collects the chips in the middle of the table.
“That’s another round for me,” the man whispers across the table. “Another drink?”
You shake your head. The thought of him making you down even more liquor with him made you feel sick. “Can I leave?”
“‘Leave?’ It’s only round four.” The dealer takes the cards silently. Another woman. Her name badge reads ‘Jewel,’ though you’re sure that’s not her real name. “You said it was best of five.”
You look down at your hands.
They’re still trembling.
“This isn’t fair.” You try not to tear up, but your voice shakes, and it’s difficult to mask. Your hands continue to quake and your legs can’t remain still. You were sure he could feel the floor vibrating with how you bounced in your seat. “I can’t even play with these cards–”
“I hope you’re not suggesting I’m taking advantage of you, beautiful.”
Your face screws up at that.
He’s not cheating. How can he possibly cheat? You had elected the dealer yourself, per his request, and had been watching him like a hawk for the better half of an hour.
Your hands were awful every time. Not even a simple pair. Just random useless low valued cards thrown together, while the man opposite you seemed to have an endless amount of tricks up his sleeve.
Poker was luck based. Mostly. There was skill and strategy, but it was like detective work. You’re no professional, but the dealer has no idea what they draw for each player, and the chances of you being drawn a horrible hand twice in a row now was creeping up on you.
It’s all guesswork and mind games. Being a sleaze is this dude’s lifestyle. You work in an office answering phone calls all day.
You glance at the dealer again. She’s still shuffling the cards by hand, and she’s not looking at them either. There’s no possible way she could know what she is handing out.
You sigh shakily. “No.”
The man leans back in his chair.
Then, he glances up when the door opens behind you. The woman over his arm gets up and leaves.
At first you presume the man has called in another woman by the way his eyes light up.
His grin is wicked. “Mister Aventurine, you son of a bitch.”
He gestures to you and says, “you’re in luck. Maybe this’ll be your turn around. You’re going to need it.” The man leans back in his chair, suddenly smug.
You feel a hand brush along the back of your shoulder.
There’s a strong scent of clove oil and chestnut as the newcomer, Mister Aventurine, glides past your chair and over to the man’s shoulder.
You notice flicks of water on his coat.
“Evening, Keres.” His voice is just as smooth. “It’s raining hard out there.”
“Is it? I ain’t been out since this mornin’.”
When you take a proper look at him, he’s wearing clothing more expensive than all of your bills combined. That was real fur around his collar; you could tell from the organic coarseness of it, and the way the pattern was inconsistent and natural. The watch around his wrist was most definitely real gold with an emerald green face.
And hair is perfect, laid down flat, but with pieces fluffed out intentionally. Everything is done with purpose. He carries an air of confidence to him, and it only falters for a moment when he adjusts the black gloves on his hands.
He’s wearing rose-coloured glasses.
“Harassing the locals again?” Mister Aventurine asks playfully.
He’s talking about you.
You bristle in your seat.
“Hardly.” The man, whom you now know as Keres, leans over the table with an arm on the velvet. “This one’s gotten a little too excited at the prize money.”
“And how much is that?” Mister Aventurine finishes fixing his gloves before he stands up straight.
“A good seven-hundred and fifty thousand. Enough to pay the bills for the year and get yourself something nice, right sweetheart?” He raises a silver credit card he pulls from his pocket and waves it side to side. “All right here on this shiny, pretty card.”
You feel like a fish staring down a hook with worm bait stuck to the end.
He’s speaking to you again, but the question remains unanswered. Keres raises an eyebrow—and you would have considered him handsome if didn’t make you feel nauseous every time he spoke to you—and waits.
You say nothing.
Mister Aventurine is looking at you now.
You feel as though you’re being hypnotised. Though the colour of his eyes are left muffled by the rosy tint he wears over them, they’re so bright. There’s two colours you can barely decipher: some sort of light green and a deep purple.
And they’re beautiful.
“I take it you’re winning?”
Keres picks up his deck of cards for the dealer as she lays them out on the table.
You swallow as she deals out your hand next. You don’t even want to flip the cards. You already know it’s over.
By some miracle, you have to win this round.
Keres had gone easy on you the first round, calling your bluff and being wrong, since you told him you weren’t sure how to play, and he felt only the slightest bit bad he roped you into the game in the first place.
Now, he didn’t care.
“‘Course I’m winnin’.”
Your teeth grit behind your lips.
Dickhead.
You swallow and peek at your cards.
Huh. They’re actually not so bad this time around. Your hands had been awful for the last hour.
Mister Aventurine is still looking at you.
You try not to return his gaze. You keep your eyes glued to the table.
Mister Aventurine hums curiously.
You can still smell his perfume, and the delicious bottom note of vanilla musk, even as he stands on the other side of the playing table. If you weren’t in the position you were in, you would have asked him what he was wearing.
He clears his throat.
You glance up at him.
Then, he nods subtly at you, seemingly pleased. “Great hand, Keres, don’t you think?”
“The secret to winning is to remain humble, Mister Aventurine,” Keres reminds him.
You almost scoff.
Mister Aventurine’s lips tick up into a grin. “Is that so?”
Then, he tilts his head slightly towards you. It’s not enough to look awkward or out of place, but it’s just enough for you to notice the very small, and nervous tick of one of his gloved fingers by his sides.
He’s still staring at you.
And there, slightly warped from his curved lenses, is a rosy and mirrored reflection of the man’s cards.
For a moment, you look away, glancing at the security guards situated behind you standing in front of the door. Though you still could never make a run for it because both of them were triple your size, one of them was tapping away on his phone, and the other was leaning against the wall and staring off into space.
You turn back around.
Mister Aventurine merely raises a brow.
Keres notices that. “Taking an interest in my opponent, Aventurine?”
Aventurine does not move to address the man, too afraid he won’t garner the correct angle on his glasses again, but his eyes do flit in his direction. “Maybe.”
“Don’t use that charm just yet, sir. I’ve got a game to win.”
“Of course.” It’s a mere send off of his tone, as if he’s just carelessly thrown the words in to keep the man satisfied.
He’s doing this on purpose.
You glance down at your cards again.
Keres’ hand is good. It’s not amazing, but it’s good. It’s almost an even match, though the game is tilted slightly in his favour.
But, he doesn’t know your cards.
Neither does Aventurine. You think. Unless those freaky eyes grant him a sixth sense, and he can see through the card backs like an x-ray. That wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.
You exhale as steadily as you can, trying to slow your racing heart.
Then, you whisper, “if this is the final round, I’m going all in.”
Aventurine’s face does not shift. His lenses flicker in the lights, and for a moment you panic, convinced that the reflection is lost.
It returns a moment later.
Keres grins. “As you wish.” He slides all of his own chips into the centre of the table.
ೃ༄
You’ve confused Keres, that’s for sure. The round has been lasting a lot longer than he liked, and as he grew more and more impatient, he grew sloppier.
You’re not any good at this game. You’re not a genius strategist, that was for sure, but judging by the slight flinch in Aventurine’s face when Keres slammed his hands on the table, you could tell he was being run around the very table he sat at.
He’d first accused you of cheating halfway through the round, so much so that the security guards were ordered to pat you down for extra cards, and the dealer was escorted out of the room.
Then, Aventurine had rested a gloved hand to the man’s shoulder and reminded him, “calmness is the cradle of power, my friend.”
That barely calmed him down, but it was enough to seat the man again.
Now, Aventurine was not showing you his hand anymore, but you didn’t need it.
“I’m raising,” Keres whispers.
Aventurine’s eyes narrow suspiciously at his deck.
You swallow.
“Then I’m calling your bluff,” you mumble. You won’t fold. Not here. Not when you know you’ve won.
Your heart is racing.
There’s a small voice in the back of your head telling you that you may have overstepped. You may have grown too big in your own head.
Aventurine is staring at you, completely expressionless. He’s casually leaning against the back of Keres’ chair.
Come on. Come on, come on–
You grip your cards for dear life.
Keres drops his cards. “Fuck you.”
You sigh in relief and drop your own cards.
You bury your face in your hands and lean against the table on your elbows. You could cry. Oh, you could get on the floor and weep to the Aeons. You could give Aventurine a giant kiss on the lips.
Oh, thank the Aeons for blond men.
You didn’t have to worry about waking up in this man’s bed tomorrow morning.
Keres gets up, and as he does, Aventurine adjusts his posture and clears his throat. He says nothing when Keres passes him.
There’s a nasty whisper of a, “some lucky charm you are,” before the credit card is thrown into his chest.
Keres hits you in the shoulder on his way out. The security guards allow him through first before they both file out. They close the door to the VIP room behind them.
You contemplate leaving as well. You just desperately want to go home. It’s getting late, you think. You had caught a glance of Aventurine’s watch before, and the large hand was ticking towards nine o’clock.
“Congratulations.” It’s warm. It’s genuine. When you turn, Aventurine is holding out the credit card in front of him. “Don’t forget the ‘shiny, pretty card.’”
Your chest warms, and you feel this is the first time you’ve smiled properly in a long time.
You move closer to the man. “You…” You hesitate before the credit card, but Aventurine makes no move to pocket it for himself and leave. “I- I don’t know how I can thank you enough for this.”
You take the card and stare at it for a moment.
Then, you place it safely in your coat pocket.
Aventurine tilts his head, confusion scrawled onto his face as saunters past you easily to hold open the door for you. “Thank me for what?”
As he waits, he pulls off those rosy glasses and folds them neatly. He holds onto them.
Oh.
His eyes are beautiful. A light blue ring surrounds his slightly slitted pupils. A gorgeous rich royal purple wraps at the edges of his iris, bordered by a thick black ring.
You stop for a moment before you step towards the door, looking equally as confused. “The reflection? With your glasses?”
Aventurine looks down at the said pair in his hands. He then smiles, but it seems more to be polite and to entertain you. “Sure.” He shuts the door behind you when he follows you out.
You knit your brows together.
Then, it wasn’t intentional.
Or, he’s just really good at playing dumb.
You can’t exactly tell.
His grin spells mischief, however. “Would you like a drink?”
Your eyes flit towards the bar. It’s always fully stocked, and the bartenders are always lovely, but the idea of liquor in your already churning stomach makes you feel sick. “Oh, no. But thank you. I’m probably just going to go home.”
“Of course. It’s late.” Aventurine glances down at his watch. “I’d be more than happy to walk you to your car, if you’d like.”
You blink at him, only slightly dazed.
You felt as if you had just swallowed three shots of straight vodka.
Your legs feel unsteady for a moment, and you’re afraid you’ll teeter and fall flat on your face. You can smell his perfume again. It’s stronger now since he’s standing so close to you.
It’s almost humiliating how easily he sends blood rushing up your neck.
“I don’t- uh… I don’t have a car,” you murmur.
Aventurine blinks and takes out his phone. “Then I’ll call you a cab.”
“Thanks.” You clear your throat when his lips stretch into a smile again. Embarrassingly, you add, “you smell so nice.”
He laughs then, and you like the sound. He narrows his eyes playfully. “Thank you.”
As if it couldn’t get any worse, blondie then offers you his arm. You could’ve melted on the spot into a puddle of goo all over the plush red carpets of the casino.
The sound of slot machines, loud chattering, and drinks clacking together in toasts, drowns out the sound of your stuttered breathing and the roar of blood in your ears.
Aventurine greets one of the staff members on his way out. His arm linked with yours is gentle, more of a persistent comforting anchor than a leash to drag you around in.
He smells really, really nice.
Your face grows hot.
This is so bad.
It’s raining outside. The entrance to the casino is large enough to provide enough relief to city goers seeking shelter from the rain. The press of the heating from inside dissipate as soon as you step through the doors.
It’s freezing. The wind whips and sounds as though one thousand ghosts float through the air, lost to time.
You’re relieved the exterior roof keeps you mostly dry.
You shiver.
“They’ll be a cab for you in five minutes,” Aventurine says softly. He lets go of your arm. You ignore the disappointment you feel in your chest.
“Thanks.” You cross your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the cold as best you could. “You don’t have to wait out here with me.”
Aventurine looks at you strangely. “Well, it’s not like I’m doing much else.” He gives you a once over before you hear his clothes shifting.
This is so awkward.
You feel the foreign tickle of expensive and real fur on your neck.
You glance at him suspiciously before your shoulders are swamped in his jacket. It’s warm, warmer than anything you’ve ever worn from the velvety insides and his own body heat, and heavy with luxury.
Your heart stops when Aventurine hums, pleased.
Your hands shoot to the white fur on the collar to shuck it off and hand it back to him. “I’m fine, really–”
“Oh, please.” He waves you off gently. “You’re clearly freezing.”
“I’m really okay–”
“And would you look at that.” Aventurine straightens up and pushes his rosy glasses back onto his nose bridge. “Your cab’s early.”
You shrug off his jacket, careful with the expensive material. “Thank you so much, but–” He pushes it back onto your shoulders, following you to the car door. “Mister Aventurine–”
“I insist.” He opens the door for you. “You’ll freeze.”
You can’t imagine him standing around in a suit vest and a shirt is warm, either.
You say nothing about it. You practically fall into the back of the cab, shocked.
“Take it home.”
“‘Take it–‘” You shake your head. You feel like you’re dreaming. “I can’t take this home. This thing is worth more than the money I just won.”
But it’s warm, and it’s weighted in the most comforting way.
It calms your nerves.
“It’s nothing fancy. It was only around one-hundred thousand credits.”
“Are you serious–”
“Take it.” And he is serious. You can see your reflection in his glasses. “Please.“
His eyes are really, really beautiful.
You find yourself lost in them for a moment.
His back is slightly soaked from the rain. He barely notices it. His hand rests on your knee when you swing your feet into the cab.
You nod once, more to reassure yourself than anything. “Okay.” You look up at him. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it.” He offers you a gentle wave before he shuts the door and the car drives off.
He is cold. Frightfully so as you watch him shiver through the rear view mirror before he steps back into the casino.
As the cab moves, you relay your address to the driver and sit back in the seat. You feel like you can finally breathe, but when you do breathe, you only smell chestnut and vanilla, and it blurs and muddies your senses nicely.
You bury your icy fingers into the pockets of Aventurine’s coat, sinking into the neckline until the fur tickles your ears.
Your fingers come into contact with something smooth and cool, like glass.
You fish it out.
It’s a small perfume bottle. You pull the clear lid off of the tip of it and curiously smell the top. It smells exactly like him, the same perfume that’s drowned you for the last hour.
You don’t think you can get enough of it.
You feel only slightly guilty for digging around in this man’s pockets—and, unsurprisingly, you don’t find a wallet—before you fish out a pair of fancy looking golden dice with light green dots on the faces.
The dice, the perfume, and a small card. Not the credit card you won. That one is tucked away safely in your bag.
It’s a business card. His business card. His name, what you recognise as the IPC’s logo, and his phone number are written in gold lettering on the laminated white card.
You hum curiously.
Then, you fish out your phone and slowly type his number onto the screen.
You: thank u 4 winning 2night for me. & the coat. the coat is nice. x
Sent 9:56pm
Aventurine: You found my gifts! :0 Did you like them?
You: maybe. i did like ur vest btw.
Aventurine: You can have it next time ;)
You find yourself smiling. Your fingers tremble with excitement over the keyboard on your screen.
You: i’ll give u a kiss 4 it :*
Aventurine: Done, deal. Pleasure doing business with you, gorgeous.
You have a feeling your wardrobe will be full of his clothes in the not so distant future.
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