Latest Posts by hinakamiya - Page 7

— FELL ON BLACK DAYS

AVENTURINE X FEM! READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 9.5k

WARNINGS — spoilers for penacony’s storyline, enemies (??) to lovers, slowburn fr (it gets good i promise) mentions of genocide, mentions of child exploitation (not explicit), weapons & violence, smut, fem anatomy reader, sub!aventurine, mentions of traumatic events, one bed troupe

SUMMARY — Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — AHHH i love aventurine so much he made me write again <333 i will defend this man to the end of the earth i swear. also holy word vomit, this is officially my longest piece!!

“BREAKING NEWS: Reports incoming that the International Peace Corporation has been seen with an employee suspected of Avgin origin from the planet Sigonia-IV. All habitants from this world were thought to have been wiped out or lost to the galaxy, so the appearance of this mysterious individual has grasped the attention of–”

The broadcast slowly fades into the background, overtaken by the synth and snare of a song that lightly shakes the ground at your feet. 

Sometimes you’re better of dead–

“Oh, you think you’ll be an asset? You’ll have to learn to make tough decisions on the go here if you want to succeed, so tell me…”

There’s a gun in your hand, it’s pointing at your head–

“You want to help this clan? Help claim this world and rid it from the remaining filth that roams?”

There’s a piercing screech amidst the bar, the high pitched wail of the speaker blasting the music fighting against the volume. A few seconds pass before the song picks back up again, a few lyrics skimmed through.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option? (How much do you need?)

In a West End town, a dead end world, The East End boys and the West End girls–

“...”

“Before your initiation, you must make a prayer to the winds and mountains. Do you swear to devote your thoughts and beliefs to them, and reclaim the glory of Sigonia-IV?”

We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past

Here today, built to last–

“I swear.”

The bass fades and you’re left standing amidst a crowd of chatting people, some high on buzz, others passed out beside the restroom. Your eyes slowly fix forward, coming to a halt as the masses shift in formation, curving in a circle around the biggest table in the casino. Lined with forest green felt and red chips, hands bang against the surface joined in a cry of frustration. 

“God damn it. This is rigged!” A player screams, hot-faced and teeth grit. “YOU!”

He stomps his way around the table, stopping at the dealer’s chair, failing to gain any attention despite the magnitude of his boots on the floor. In retaliation, the man takes a fistfull of the dealer’s hair, spinning him violently around and grabbing the collar around his neck.

Seldom have there been times where you didn’t see him in this sort of setting, a man with glasses that carried the same orange tint as the drink in his hand, die mounted between his fingers as he speaks with a wealthy patron. His words weave like velvet on a fine tailored suit as he invites you to play a game of chance, and before the game has even begun, you’ve lost.

His name is Aventurine, and, just as his reputation precedes him, the corners of his lips turn upward as you enter his field of view. He is never one to be down on luck.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to exit the casino. The drinks have riled you up a bit too much, and I’m afraid you’re no longer sober enough to keep playing.”

The smell of outlandish alcohol hits your nose in a foul wave as he turns, rudely shrugging your hand off of his shoulder. 

“And who do you think you are? Protecting this weasel like that.” You take a step back as he advances, completely abandoning his grip on Aventurine as his gaze focuses on the emblem tailored to your shoulder. “You’re in on this scam too, aren’t you? Fuckin’ IPC, always looking to take money from people.” A sizable crowd has gathered at this point, and with that, guards are quick to stand at your side. You tilt your head to the side, extending a hand to gesture at the coat draped over his empty chair.

“You may gather your things and leave now, sir. Refusal to comply will result in you being forcibly removed.” 

A few more seconds of seething stares pass before he grumbles an insult toward you and rushes to gather his things, attempting to push the guards following him away. You sigh, turning to the dealer, who is now comfortable in his chair, feathered hat placed neatly on his lap as he shuffles the pool of cards pushed his way.

“Alright folks, now that’s over with, how about another–”

“Mr. Aventurine unfortunately won’t be able to join you all this round.” You quickly cut him off, laying the newly layered deck of cards onto the table. “May I have a word, please?”

The blonde takes a glance between you and the rest of the patrons at the table before nodding, allowing a charismatic smile to decorate his face as he slides the cards forward. 

“Of course. Miss Antonia, would you please find another dealer to step in for the remaining games?”

He gathers a kind nod from a nearby waitress, before turning to follow you outside of the casino. As the door opens, strong drafts of icy wind blow against your face, and you hear a shiver from behind.

“Sheesh, couldn’t we at least have talked inside? I didn’t come prepared to stand in the cold…”

You send a look his way, and Aventurine’s hands rise, lips pursed in faux apology. He pushes his glasses farther into his nose bridge as you lean against the casino’s exterior wall, shielding yourself from the chill. It’s clear he’s not taking you seriously, stifling out a yawn and rubbing his eyes before he even spares you a glance.

“Here to lecture me about the, wait…” His eyes suddenly narrow, honing in on your uniform. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, watching as he taps a few fingers against his forehead, thinking. The talisman of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department sits firmly laid into your uniform. A smoothly carved onyx, inferior to the cornerstone you know he possesses and certainly lacking in power. His eyes linger on the stone for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head back up.

“Never seen that stone before..” He says after a few seconds, voice substantially lower. “What rank are you?”

His gaze is opaque, on guard. You resist the urge to bite your lip, figuring lying in this kind of situation wouldn’t be the best decision. Subconsciously, you bring a hand up to your stone, adjusting your coat flap before bringing it back down. 

“P39.”

His eyebrows form a sharp line, but his lips remain flat. The lens behind thick shades linger on the stone, burning into the lights that reflect off of the darkness. He’s never seen someone who isn’t a part of the Ten Cornerstones wear something like this, so who are you?

“If you’re here to try and convince me to do something, I’m not interested. I’ve had enough orders drilled into my head since I came to Jarilo-VI.”

His forefront is confident, but you can see the hand that lingers at his side, struggling to stay put. It reeks of mild uncertainty, and a lack of security. He doesn’t feel safe when he’s not in control.

“I’m here to tell you that your assignment’s changed.” Your response is straight and to the point. There’s no room to betray any underlying feelings of guilt you may have from years passed. “You’ll be with me and my team, we’re going to the Loufu in three days to sort some business out. I suggest you finish your deals here before we go.”

“Well then.” Aventurine clicks his tongue, mild annoyance riding the smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s acquaint ourselves then, shall we? You must know who I am, so please allow me the pleasure of returning the favor.”

A small passage of frosty air rises into the atmosphere as he breathes, hand extending in formality. You take it, slowly shaking, taking in the defensive rise of his shoulders. It seems he has zero tolerance for strangers.

“Nice to meet you, Aventurine. They call this stone the onyx.”

–

The Interastral Peace Corporation only takes workers to be strong-minded and just as toughly willed. In the Strategic Investment Department, greed is a virtue, and wanting nothing but it all is a prayer. Those who earn their spot as a cornerstone will stop at no means to chase their desires. 

Aventurine values risk, but he always loves to have control in his corner. Without control, the chips in his hands are of no use, and his bargains crumble beneath him. 

A gambler's true nightmare, sitting right between his eyes.

Your relation to him is a true mystery, despite all of the digging he’s been doing after arriving at the Loufu. Despite the numerous deals you’ve closed together, he still fails to know anything about you, other than the fact that you have quick wit and fascinating knowledge of the universe. He won’t dare approach you directly, his inhibitions are too high and he knows too little.

However, there’s something off about you and that stone of yours. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.

“Does the IPC really need that many funds to perform a vitality check on the Sky-Faring Commission? From what I remember, this is nearly triple the amount of last year’s fee.”

“Well, Helm Master, from what our reports say, you had agreed to the accumulation of interest based on reports of safety in the Loufu. Based on recent events, there has been a substantial raise in alarm concerning the safety of the citizens here. We hope you can understand.”

Aventurine unfolds his hands, sliding a glossy black dossier over to the woman known as Yukong. After skimming over the first page of analysis, she sighs, and places her hand over the cover.

“Is it possible that we could touch bases on this later this week? I need time to look over these documents and discuss them with my team before making any decisions.”

Biting back a groan of exasperation, you nod, politely shaking her hand and bowing your head when she stands. What you thought was going to be a quick excursion of debt collecting had turned into two long weeks of debate, and you’re starting to lose sleep. After Yukong exits, you run a hand through your hair, allowing the flow from the outside to flood your ears..

You can admit, the place they chose is certainly impressive in its theatrics, blooming with tall fountains of pristine water and a live band of foxians playing classical music on a mahogany stage. 

After a few minutes of jotting down notes you find yourself leaning against the bar’s edge, elbows cool against smooth wood. Your thoughts swirl like the vibrato of the woman singing a cover of a local song in a language unknown to you, but it’s calming, and you begin to itch with the desire to order a drink.

The waiter polishing glasses near you seems to pick up on your wants, quietly gesturing with her hand that she’ll take your order.

“A Rose in Rain, please.”

She makes your drink at an astonishing speed, sliding the glass next to your hands with a smile. You stare at the royal blue liquid sitting at the rim, contemplating if the hangover will be worth it.

Aventurine eyes the finger that rests along the base of the glass, humming quietly to himself. He figures there’s no better way to get to know someone than through a few drinks.

“You gonna drink that or keep staring at it?”

You turn your head, watching as he slides onto the barstool next to you. He raises his three outer fingers, ordering a small glass of Wintry Garden before turning to face you.

It’s been a long month with the Cornerstone. His approach remains restricted, evident in his snippets of sarcasm that he still doesn’t trust you. Your situation is… unusual, so you tolerate it. However, there still lies a fear within that he’ll go deeper than what’s for his own good.

“Do you usually drink? Or are you afraid to spill your guts?”

His words drip with conviction, blindly accusing you with the corners of his mouth tilted upward. It’s been too long, and he still doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than the stone you wear. He needs to flip this in his favor, fast.

Aventurine’s fingers drum against the bar’s edge as he picks up his drink, taking a small sip. The slight tilt of his head inclines you to start yours too, drinking half of the tall glass in one swig. His eyebrows raise in surprise when the drink hits the table, taking all but a few seconds to completely down the entirety of its contents, a resounding clink following.

When you don’t rush to finish your own drink, Aventurine chuckles, crossing his arms as he turns to face you fully. He’s eyeing you, daring smile plastered on his face.

“What, scared?”

He’s challenging you. And it works, since your drink is empty and you’re ordering a second round in a matter of seconds. Fizz sluggishly bubbles down your throat, followed by rich spots of thick, clear syrup.

A few drinks is all it takes for you to begin feeling lightheaded, pressing a palm into your eye to try and alleviate the nausea. Aventurine is at least 6 drinks in, setting down his next with an exaggerated sigh. Raising his hand for another, he lightly dings his glass against yours, the scent of redsunset sauce high on his breath.

“Let’s talk, Onyx.” He remarks, placing his hands on the table as the bartender comes over. “What’s the real deal with you? How come I haven’t seen you anywhere in the IPC and you show up in my faction one random day?”

You cough, attempting to clear your throat before you answer. It’s tough to keep your resolve with the amount of alcohol in your system.

“Maybe you’re just not perceptive enough, I’ve always been around.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like your answer. Another drink down.

“How many years have you worked for the IPC?”

“Almost 4 now.”

“What’s the entrance project that got you into the Strategy Department?”

You hesitate, and he grins, satisfied. This interrogation is going as planned.

“Well then? I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, unless you’re more dangerous than you seem.”

It’s your turn to down a drink, wiping a small trace off of your chin as you think.

“Izumo.” You answer, short, watching as his fingers clasp tighter around the glass in his hand. Surprise.

“You really expect me to believe that?” He scoffs, a tinge of fire evident in his voice. “No one goes to Izumo any more, not after the slash.”

“You’d be surprised at the sheer amount of people that go to Magatsu no Morokami to uncover history. The IPC has their eyes set on valuable relics left behind from the war.”

He leans forward, dangerously close to your face. Past the thick orange lens of his aviators, you can see the irate spark in his eyes, alight with a plethora of shades you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not wise to lie to your superiors.”

You back away, sliding your card across the counter to the bartender. The moment Aventurine gets up to follow, you stop in your tracks, holding a small drive in his direction. You have some tricks up your sleeve, too.

“You’ll change your mind.”

He pauses, slightly bent over in a stupor of alcohol. 

“Best keep your cards close to your chest, Aventurine. Snooping in places you don’t belong bodes bad fortune.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, he takes the drive from your hand, leaning back onto the bar’s surface, eyebrows knit in thought. The world is suddenly too loud and amidst a flurry of harmonic bellows and blinding lights, you disappear. 

—

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGY INVESTMENT DEPARTMENT HQ | ONE MONTH LATER

“I guess I should apologize.”

Several weeks of absence. You look up from the papers on your desk, watching as Aventurine places your drive back on your desk. He straightens back up, waiting for you to respond.

“Understandable.” You answer, finalizing a document with a quick signature. “I would have had my apprehensions too.”

“Still do, but it’s better to work with someone you tolerate, right?”

You look up. He shrugs, eyeing the papers you have scattered around.

You had given him a flash drive with your report on Izumo, or, at least, a report on it. Sometimes things are left best buried. Still, Aventurine is certainly not stupid, and you know that. The final version of the report is vague and full of small incidents that contrast the planet’s true history There are inconsistencies, but he seems a little less hostile for the time being.

“Whatever you’re hiding from me, I intend to find out in due time. But I can’t do that if we’re at odds.” A hand is extended your way, held a little less straight and professional. “Let’s just try and hate each other a little less, huh?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his hand and shake it for the second time. Aventurine smiles at you, a little less pointedly, but still on guard.

“Friends it is, then.”

His grip tightens slightly at the proclamation, leaving your veins seared and eyes wavering. As if you just made a deal with the devil. Your gaze drags along the fancies of his coat, figuring this is just another gamble he’s won. Something closer to certain death; the passion for it intrigues you.

Sooner or later you’ll suffer the consequences of a lie, you tell yourself. There’s no good outcome when striking up an agreement with a gambler, especially one like Aventurine.

Especially when the gambler is holding a knife to your throat.

The blade is cool, barely holding back from your trachea. Leather gloves hold a fistfull of your hair, shoving you down onto the filing cabinet you were sifting through moments before. Your eyes dart around, only able to see the edge of his shoe pressing against your ankle and the papers you dropped scattered across the floor.

“Just as I thought we were getting along.” His spits, words slithering around your chest and settling around your neck. “It was only a matter of time before you slipped up.”

Confusion spreads across your features, and Aventurine scoffs. His shoe digs deeper into your achilles, and you stagger against the metal. 

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Your words come out choked, gasping for air against Aventurine’s hold.

“That man, the one you had a long conversation with at the meeting tonight? You two seemed to get along.” Aventurine’s breath runs short out of anger, grip scalding against your skin. “You know him, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, tracing the night’s events back several hours. You only recall shaking two men’s hands, one being the esteemed Doctor Ratio’s, and the other the reason why you were down in the IPCs archives. He was dressed nothing short of what a gentleman would wear, offering you many commending words as he spoke of the recent inflation concerning the astral economy. However, you didn’t miss the brilliant stone embedded in the shell of his tie, reflecting vibrant colors you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. And neither did he.

“Pretty stone isn’t it?.” Aventurine continues, pressing your hands against the wall you’re shoved against. “I’ve seen it a lot throughout my lifetime, but I’m sure you know that already. Silly me, forgetting how easy it is to conceal them.”

He reaches for your shoulder, and you push back, using the slightly stagger of his feet to grab the blade’s edge, violently smashing your head into his and spinning him around. His blade traded for your stone. 

“I’d like to know…” His fingers flip the stone around, taking in the colorless mass, like a void amidst the stars. With a quick swipe of his hand, a lighter is held to it, engulfing the black in a dance of pale fire. Aventurine shakes the rising smoke off of him after a few moments, and your eyes narrow.

“...Why you have this?”

Turquoise meteorite, a brilliant blue stone infused with veins of a green just as bright. A kind of beauty that could only be found on Sigonia, tailored in a way only an Avgin could. The crafter spoke of a tactic that could hide the stone’s true color, while keeping its spirit alive with you still. 

Blood drips from your hand, staining your clothes a deep crimson. Gritting your teeth together, you slice a sleeve of your dress shirt off, slowly wrapping it around the wound. 

Aventurine stands, still, fury riding his waterline. His glasses sit beside his feet, hues of purple and blue wavering in the dim light. His hand slowly clenches, in and out, smoothing the cooled piece over his palm.

“What now, Katican?” His voice is quiet, gently ricocheting off of concrete walls. “Came to settle one last score, fulfilling your dream of tracking down the last Avgin? Oh, I bet you’re itching to use that knife right now.”

You step to the side, shaking bloodstained papers off of your feet. The knife drops to the ground, scraping cruelty against the ground as you kick it to a corner far out of your reach. A sharp intake of breath follows, and he steps back.

“I’m no Katican.” Your tone is low, locking eyes with Aventurine, his gaze darts from the knife to you. “The stone was a gift from an Avgin I saved during the second extinction.”

The air is stale, prickling with fear as you pass. Aventurine stands tall, but you know all too well that his greatest fear has come alight in this very room. The thought of coming face to face with a Katican chases him in his nightmares each dusk, a terror looming over his head akin to a raging storm. For once, he’s speechless, completely dumbstruck, mind racing to comprehend all that you’ve bestowed upon him. So little said, yet so great a burden unveiled. 

You would be right in telling him that such information is better left buried. Yet Aventurine knows only how to shatter the destiny that calls for him, and monumental change has left in its wake.

He opens his mouth to speak, yet words fail him. The hand holding the stone sits slotted behind his back, holding on to it as he would a birthright. A piece of his past that would never bless him again, sitting in the shade of Sigonia’s darkest nights, mimicking a color that does not belong to it. He wants to scream, take his knife and shove it so hard into your chest that it comes out on the other side. 

“I am on your side, Aventurine. I always have been.”

After forcing himself to swallow, he straightens up, but you’re already gone.

Distantly, a heavy thud hits the floor.

–

TUMBLEWEED, SALSOTTO.

“I’m Daisy, here this morning with Tumbleweed’s daily weather report. As usual, there’s sun about. However, a rude awakening is coming at around 6pm, as a pretty hefty thunderstorm is coming our way. Make sure you carry your umbrellas! And remember, as our beloved Fleetworld Marc says, thunder only happens when it’s destined.”

Destiny. The word lingers in your head as a pang of hunger hits your insides. Placing your last suitcase beside your bed, you set off for your hotel room’s kitchen. Reaching over and opening a cabinet, you groan when it reveals itself to be empty. 

Shrugging your coat over your shoulders, you pocket your room card. However, when you open your door, you’re quick to step back, feeling your heart rate spike instantly in shock. 

“Uh…” You take a few short breaths, regaining your composure. “Can I help you?”

The man standing before you is no other than Aventurine, chin receding as he looks at you with evident confusion.

“Can I help you?” He retorts, flipping his hotel card up to the light. “This is my room.”

You pull the exact same card out of your pocket, and the two of you share looks of bewilderment. After reading over the numbers on your card for what felt like the 50th time, Aventurine sighs, long and drawn out. 

“Well, this isn’t what I imagined when the front desk told me they could fit a room in for me.”

“I’ll go ask–”

You’re cut off with a swift wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother, I already did. They’re fully booked for the next week.”

Before you know it, both Aventurine and his bags are heading into your… your room. Exhaling, you mutter a quiet “okay..” and follow him inside. However, he’s quick to stop you once you make it past the bathroom, exaggeratedly pointing toward the wall to your right.

“This has to be some kind of joke, right?” Aventurine laughs, pulling his glasses off as if attempting to see better. 

His gaze is fixed on the bed sitting across from you. The single bed, accompanied with a single nightstand and a TV. In that moment, you both share a second groan, and Aventurine palms his face.

“I’ll figure this out.”

In a matter of moments, he’s gone, suitcases set haphazardly on the ground beside you. After a few minutes of thought, you head to the bathroom, soaking your hands in cold water. A brief inhale follows the icy chill that drags over your face, and you silently curse destiny. 

A few hours pass before Aventurine returns, shirt slightly ruffled, annoyance clearly displayed upon his features. The click of boots melds into the soft step of socks as he enters the kitchen, and you silently pass a bowl of fried rice you had been able to scavenge from a local grocery store over. Running a hand through his hair, he nods your way, sliding into the stool across from you and stopping the bowl with his fingers.

“As you could have guessed, there are zero people in this whole building willing to switch rooms with us.”

“Ah, yeah. Tourists are usually snobby.”

A hum signifies his response. Silence encompasses the room as a blanket would, save the soft clangs of silverware on bowls. You fix your gaze on the granite countertops, following intricately woven lines of mixed stone and drawing patterns in each section you come across. Becoming so immersed in the cracks, you don’t even notice when Aventurine passes you twice, once with his bowl, and once without. Seconds turn into minutes as you stare at the sheet of stone, only taken away from thought when he returns to the table, dressed in a black set of silk pyjamas. 

“What’s your story?”

Your eyelashes flutter, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Raising your head, you push the now cold rice to the side and glance at the man across from you, fingers interlocked in wait. 

You’re shocked at the simplicity of it. The lack of accusations are a breath of fresh air when it comes to his words, typically cold fronted and dripping with malice. You would expect him to be angry still, perhaps even worse, giving that you lied, but you can feel the genuine curiosity lingering within. He seems to want to understand.

“I joined the IPC when I was young, almost ten years ago.” You start, fighting the urge to snap away from his gaze. “In my second year, word was out that there was trouble on Sigonia. It was thought that the IPC had it under control, but everyone knew there was something else coming.”

You pause. Aventurine remains quiet, attentive.

“I took it upon myself to convince my superiors to send me to Sigonia, despite their warnings. But… the work we did there, it wasn’t enough. I could help no one under the bounds of the IPC, so I sought out the Katicans. No more bounds. I was on the inside, where I could do things my own way.”

“Such lovely people, weren’t they?” He questions, apathy leaking from deep within. “Didn’t have a single care in the world other than themselves. They wanted to see everything burn, the women, children.”

“I have never seen a deeper hatred than what lies within them.”

You stop, again, toying with your fingers. Aventurine’s silence beckons you to proceed.

“I could only help so many, and they all ended up dying anyway. There was no escaping them, they were ruthless.” Your voice trails off, shaking your head slightly at the recollection of dark days in the wasteland they call Sigonia. No horrors match the ones that took place there. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, any of you. And still, you’re alive.”

A word softly chants in your head. Destiny.

“Ever since I was born, I knew what was made out for me was never good.” Aventurine says, a hint of irony in his voice. “I fell on black days without knowing what it was like to live on the other side, and it’s been like that since.”

Flashes of your past mix in with current thought. You remember them, the Avign children, clinging to scraps of life even when it was evident their lives would soon end. Their eyes, just as brilliant as his, drowned by crashing waves, yet afloat on the prayer of hope. You imagine Aventurine was just like them, and you understand. Anger breeds and it seethes.

“How do you control it?” Such a simple question, yet so many answers. 

“I put it all into risk. Every single last bit of it. I gambled, and I won.” His pointer finger gently hits the table, and he raises his hand to wave it through the air. “I survive, and I bet again.”

“A bold motto, I must say.”

A small smile graces his features, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Luck seems to be on my side.”

You look to the side at the sound of a crack, noticing that rain has started to fall. The sky is obscured by deep grays, and the rumble beckons you to the sliding door separating you from the balcony. The crash of drops on concrete is soothing to your ears, bestowing a peace upon your heart you’ve failed to find for a while now. The serenity thickens as Aventurine steps to your side, the hues in a ring of his eyes reflecting the storm outside.

“I didn’t rain much back then.” He muses, gaze following the slow drizzle of fallen streaks on the balcony’s edge. “A privilege I can keep alive, now that I see it so often.”

You look to the side, meeting Aventurine’s eyes halfway. The corners of his lips turn up as he looks past you, covering his mouth as he stifles a yawn.

“Almost forgot about the bed.” He laughs, running a hand over his lower face. “You can have it, I’ll be okay on the floor.”

“Absolutely not!” You counter, head tilting in defiance. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“That would be extremely impolite of me.”

“As it would be for me…”

“Will you please just sleep on the bed?”

“I brought extra pillows! I’ll be more comfortable than you on the floor.”

Aventurine stops, sending you a half lidded look. You walk over to your suitcase, swiftly pulling the two large pillows you packed out, holding them at your sides. He walks over to you, snatching a pillow out from one of your arms before walking toward the bed.

“Or, how about this?” He shoves your pillow on top of the hotel provided one. “We put the extra pillows on the bed, and we both take a half.”

You purse your lips, and shrug in reason. After patting your pillow into place, you climb onto the bed, turning on your side to ensure you’re only taking up half of the bed. 

As you land on your other shoulder, you nearly touch noses with Aventurine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising in a teasing manner.

“It’s not often someone gets the chance to be this close to me.”

You groan, tugging the coarse blanket to your chest as you flip to your front. Stifling a few chuckles, Aventurine turns so his back is facing you.

Within a few minutes, quiet snores begin to drift through your ears. You sigh, and roll your eyes. And yet, only peace visits you in your dreams.

–

There have been few nights of your stay in Salsotto without rain. You’ve grown accustomed to the melodic pad of morning to the erratic roar of the night. This night is different, however, as dew is high in the air but the clouds of the afternoon are white, tainted with swirls of pink that bode better weather. 

You fumble with the pearls on your neck, carefully positioning them so they rest on your collarbone. All IPC events require a clearance of wear that is above the standard grade of formal, nothing short of extravagant, explaining the fine tailored suit you wear over your dress. Ivory on cream, a palette that bodes well when making business deals. 

Heels click on pavement, Tumbleweed’s National Museum in sight. Golden lights cast the establishment in an elegant glow, and the stream of classical cello welcomes your ears as you approach. Welcoming smiles are given your way as you enter the building, and you start a long night of shaking hands and business chatter with the esteemed mechanical aristocrat Screwllum. 

Leisure chats of the Genius Society’s next project flow in and out of wine chutes, with gentle opera joining new deals of funding. Another hand shake bodes your farewell to a philanthropist from the Herta Space Station, and you take a seat at one of the tables nearby, attempting to gather your thoughts. Sipping on a glass of sparkling rose, you start jotting down tonight’s business proposals onto your phone.

“Having fun?”

You look up, offering a smile toward your temporary hotelmate as you pull the chair next to you back.

“Was wondering when I’d run into you, Aventurine.” You say, clinking glasses with the blonde. “How many deals have you clinched tonight?”

“More than you, I bet.” You scrunch your nose, folding your arms after sliding your phone his way. Aventurine takes a look through your notes, smile expanding on his face as he progresses.

“...And it seems I would be right.” He exclaims, holding up two full hands. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the natural charm.”

“Mhm. Super natural, and not annoying at all.” You quip, earning a light jab in the shoulder.

Your past two weeks with Aventurine had proved to be an easier feat than you had thought. Beside the snoring (that you had learned to tune out), he had served as a good source of company, squandering your worries of lingering grudges as you spent more time around one another. You were grateful he had the will in his heart to see the reason behind what you had done, although you were a little surprised to see that he had forgiven you with such ease. 

Now, to you, he seemed to be an easy soul forced to carry burdens that were undeserving of him. 

“Hey.”

You’re roused from your thoughts by the gentle tap of Aventurine’s foot against your heel. He cocks his head, and you’re suddenly aware of the soft serenade filling the room, sung by an artist famous for this piece.

“Let’s get our minds off of business for a while. Care to dance?”

He straightens his jacket before standing up, beckoning you to do the same. You accept the hand outstretched, threatening to roll your eyes as Aventurine lays his other on your back, guiding you to the floor.

“Trying to show off?” 

Aventurine slowly spins you into a shroud of spotlight, laughing when your eyes go wide from the precision of his arms slowing you back down. 

“Of course.”

A look is shared between the two of you, and the dance begins. You recognize the piece, Seid Umschlungen, Millionen! (Be Embraced, You Millions!), and fall into a sort of waltz, slow, quick, slow. Your feet move in a symphony of chirping violin and cello vibrato, swirling carefully around other dancers as you step from box to box. 

The music quiets in a moment of repose, and you slow, winding your hands around his neck as you sway, in wait. 

“What’s with the long face?”

The question catches you off guard, as you weren’t aware that your thoughts had reflected off of your face. Lips pursing, you wonder whether taking the chance and ruining the moment is worth it, but the question nags deep within, festering like a cancer that will not cease until it is freed. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Strings echo and rise; Aventurine fits a hand behind your back before spinning you into dance. His eyebrows are furrowed lightly, as if your question had caught him off guard in some sort of way, but you both knew it was coming. Trust is an uncertain entity, not easily won or wagered, never certain in whether it’s attained or lost. Forgiveness is a trial for trust, and within inquiry lie a question of deeper truth that never made it to the surface

Do you hate me, Aventurine?

There have been many times in the passing days where you’ve been questioned about your time in Sigonia-IV. A test to determine whether your actions deserved merit. Recounting stories of countless lives you worked tirelessly to save at the risk of your own. Gallons of blood stained on your hands from the guilty, those whose karma ran the empty river beds of the desert red. 

So much, and yet nothing at all. It’s as if life is out to play some game of twisted fate, as you see all of the lives you could not save in the man right before you. The brand slightly hidden by his collar and wispy blonde, jewelry glittering at his wrists, irises that shine in the darkest of nights. Bewitching, yet so alive. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He says, after some time. “You did a brave thing, I would be a fool to condemn you for it.”

Elation. It’s the feather touch of his hands, graceful in the way they dip you, nearly stopping time as you lay suspended. Your eyes lock, and you nearly drown in the glow of lavender and maya that stare back. Slowly, you feel one of his hands leave your back, dipping in his suit pocket and coming to rest in your vision. 

“Their memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.”

You’re lifted to stand, and, amidst a rather slow spin, Aventurine pins the turquoise meteorite you’d thought was long gone onto the span of dress fabric above your chest. The resounding smile shared is trust.

You twirl and sink until the song comes to an end, stopping in a hold of hands and interlocked legs as orchestra is overtaken by voice. In the midst of fading spotlight, your breath evens out, and you find yourself following the gambler’s hand to escape the noise, elbows brushing on a balcony railing as you stare out into the fading daylight.

The sky is tinged with the baby blue of afternoon, arising into a deep interweave of violet and blush. A small, red casino chip flips between Aventurine’s fingers, rolling to sit between his pointer and thumb in short pauses.

“Got any tricks up your sleeve, gambler?”

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, invigorated by the rise of your lips, challenging, daring. The game you propose has risk, but what is life without taking leaps blind? Aventurine is sure he can see you now, after all.

With a flip of the chip and a wave of his hand, the red disappears, and a cool sensation lands firmly on your lips. His face is inches away from yours, fingers gently pressing against the chip that severs the distance between you.

“There are tricks to any risk, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

You raise your hand, sliding the chip from your mouth and palming it. When he doesn’t move, you tug on his collar, chin tilting upward to press your lips to his. The sensation is warm, gentle, as if you tread on ice that threatens to shatter. Honey sears your tongue, and you revel in the touch of his lips, soft as the velvet of his tie.

The moment is all too short, yet your mouth feels numb as you break away. In a moment of silence, you take the hand that sits lightly clamped around your wrist, sliding the chip in his palm and closing his fingers.

“I think I’ll be gambling a lot with you, Aventurine.”

His face moves closer, and you look down for a moment, noticing the hand that sits behind his back.

“I look forward to it.”

–

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGIC INVESTMENT HQ | TWO MONTHS LATER

Knock, knock.

“Coming.”

The door opens in fluid motion, revealing a room cast in gloom, tan shade, blinds drawn. 

“Hey, Aven.” You sigh, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde’s cheek. “Long day?”

“Long day.” He mirrors, offering to take the stack of papers off of your hands. You accept, slipping into the chair across from his desk. “Are you done for today?”

“Mhm.” 

Aventurine sits in his desk chair, shrugging the navy coat he sports onto the back. You stretch your arms behind your back, watching as deft hands undo the cross hatched tie representing the cornerstones from his collar. As he sets the piece down, his office phone starts to buzz, and he groans.

“Hello, this is Aventurine… Uh huh, what time?” He draws circles into ebony, holding the phone to his shoulder as he reaches for a notepad. However, as he clicks the pen in his hand, he nearly drops the phone, clearly startled. “Can you repeat that? Si- okay. I’m coming.”

In a flurry of movement, he stands, tie and coat snatched. 

“We have to go, right now.”

His tone is impatient, brimming with anxiety and unwilling to contest. You blink a few times before following him out of his office, grabbing his coat to hold onto as he fits his tie back to his shirt. The walk is silent, save a quiet “thank you” when you hand the coat over and the click of shoes on tile. Your nerves rise as you move, watching the way he frets with his gloves, tugging on the ends repeatedly. 

In a matter of minutes, you arrive at the boardroom of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, stopping at the edge of the table as Jade turns around, followed by a concerned looking Topaz.

“Ah, Aventurine. What a surprise, I was sure not to include your name in the list of attendees tonight.“She sends a look to the white haired cornerstone, before directing her gaze to you. “Unfortunately, ranks below P40 are prohibited from attending this meeting. Guards, please see her out.”

You push against the guard that seizes your wrist, but are unable to resist as more come to his aid. After having the door shoved in your face, you’re dragged to the hallway outside of the meeting hall, forced to sit in wait. 

30 minutes. Another 30. An hour before the doors open, with Aventurine first, Topaz following close behind. He rushes past you, eyes on the ground, gone within seconds. Concern etches your features as Topaz runs up to you, lips pursed in distress,

“Aventurine-” She pauses, hand on her chest as she catches her breath. “Please go after him. You’re the only one that he’ll see now, after what just happened.”

“What happened?”

At your inquiry, she shakes her head, nodding her head toward the direction Aventurine took off in.

“It’s best you hear it from him. But, please, go see him tonight, he needs someone who’s close to his heart.”

Worry is quick to seep into your features, but you nod. A quick visit to his office and you’re off, taking the next jet off of Pier Point, to Klimt Republic. Weaving through streets and bullet trails full of life, you arrive in the heart of Klimt just two hours later, standing on the penthouse floor of an apartment complex worth more than the entire block you’re on.

Knock, knock.

Silence. You hesitate, and knock again. 

The shuffling of feet hit the floor, and you wait in anticipation, hands firmly at your sides as the noise stops. After a few moments, the door slowly opens, and you sigh in relief.

Aventurine stands, slightly hunched against the doorframe, hair disheveled, eyes red and irritated.

“Aven, what happ-”

A pair of hands seize your wrist, tugging you inside and slamming the door behind you. 

“Not now.” Your eyes widen at the plea in his voice, whole with a basal need that makes your chest tighten. “Please, just, make me forget about it right now.”

He looms over you, yet the shadow he casts is the antonym of threatening. Fear reeks off of him like vodka, as tears brim on his waterline. The feeling spreads to your skin like wildfire, and you feel him shake as you take his face in your hands, breathing shallow and scared.

The first taste of his lips is sweet, but the salt of his tears is quick to sink in. Clumsy and trembling, your bodies rock and hit walls as you make your way to his bedroom. You throw his coat to the side as he does yours, pushing him down onto his bed as you break for air. 

Aventurine’s hair flows out around him as he falls onto the mattress, shrouding him as a halo would. You chase after him, littering his neck with soft bites that elicit soft groans from the skin beneath. You unbutton half of his shirt before diving for his collarbone, reveling in the whines that respond as you nip and bruise. 

His hands reach for your pants, and you stop him before he can reach for your panties. 

“Ah-ah, hands behind your head.” Your voice pools out smooth, running a hand down his shirt. “Just relax and let me take care of you.” 

Gently pinning his hands above him, you let go, and he complies. You reward him with a kiss, messy and careless, pulling a string of saliva between your lips when you leave them. Your free hand pushes hair out of his eyes while the other works on the zipper of his slacks, watching as his fingers lock together as you apply pressure.

A shudder leaves Aventurine’s lips as you pull his boxers down, hand gently running along the length of his dick. Teeth tug at lips as you spit on your hand, working at his cock while running your free fingers along your folds. His neck lifts up as your hands move faster, and you grin, choking the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth at the display before you.

A sight like heaven, an angel laid out for worship. Aventurine’s skin is coated in a soft sheen of sweat that shines in the dim light, hand laid over one eye whilst the other remains barely open. Under the mix of hues that resemble wild fields of flowers, blush coats his cheekbones, a light to the darkness that blooms on his neck. The vulnerability of it makes your heart soar, and you feel a fire ignite in the depths of your being that fails to stoke.

The hand that toys with your clit lifts, prodding at Aventurine’s mouth as you lower yourself on his cock. Muffled whines vibrate around your fingers, and you moan at the fullness that envelops you. You swirl your fingers in his mouth, biting on your cheek as his tongue wraps around them, sucking on the sweet taste of you. 

His hands abruptly reach up, fingers winding and tangling in hair as they pull you down, replacing fingers with lips. The sensation is hot, as if an unquenchable balm has set your skin alight. 

“Feel good?”

“What kind of- ughh- question is that?” 

You clench around him as if it's instinct, and Aventurine calls your name as he would a prayer. His moans are akin to song, divine in melody, alluring in a way that shuts your mind off from anything else but him. One of his hands leaves your hair, fingers clumsily clamping around your own, holding you like fine china. 

The stretch of his dick does little to quench the hunger within, you crave more, a devout worshiper crying a hymn of need. Your motion becomes erratic, a twist of limbs and friction that siphons tears that streak down your cheeks, falling to mix in with the sweat on your lover’s face.

“Gonna-” Aventurine chokes on his own words, eyes shut harshly as he blinks back ecstasy. “Cum.”

Your words are lost to you, only managing to groan in response as Aventurine pulls you back to him. His lips seal over yours in a searing kiss, arms winding around your back to hold you still as your orgasm shakes you. White light flashes through closed eyes as you spasm around his dick, mixing with the cum that leaks inside of you. 

The room is quiet, save the howling wind of night and the dance of unstable breath. Blankets shuffle as you drop to Aventurine’s side, allowing him to drape your discarded shirt over your bare chest. Time seems to cease as you meet his gaze, touch serene as the plains of distant worlds as he encourages you to come closer. You accept, eyes closing for a moment, feeling the warm fan of his breath over your nose.

“The IPC is funding a project to excavate Sigonia.” The silence breaks, peace shatters and your eyes snap open. “Turquoise meteorites are rare, so they’ll scrape the whole planet dry until every last piece is gone.”

Your face falls, corners of your lips pulling downward. Aventurine’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly already accepting the fate of the planet he calls home. He refuses to look your way, eyes focused somewhere past you, the sorrow spreads and leaks into your soul as it opens further. A place so full of hatred and loss, yet a place that he will never be able to let go of. It burrows within the deepest neurons, refusing to snap and forget.

“You have to say something, Aven.” You pull at his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll help you.”

“The IPC doesn’t have time to listen to Avgin.” He sighs, hope stale on his breath. “Not even if it's the last one alive.”

You still, fingers falling to rest against his cheek. Aventurine’s eyes close, brows furrowing lightly against pale skin.

“Sigonia will fall, and only Kakavasha will remain.”

Defeat. It seems that what events occurred in that meeting room left no room for conversation. Guilt flows through your veins like it’s replaced the red, and your chest aches, latching onto the horror that no doubt holds sovereignty in his head.

Kakavasha. Blessed by the heavens yet cursed by the living world. Such a beautiful name that deserves no hell it endures. 

Amidst the quietude, Aventurine’s hand slithers under the blankets, latching onto your wrist. He traces skin, knuckles brushing against your own, coming to rest intertwined.

“Can we try something?”

You nod, and your hand is slowly lifted to the air, palm against palm between your chests. You’ve seen this motion back on Sigonia, yet it’s always remained distant to you, and the words echo in obscurity. 

“I’ll go through it once, and we can do it together.”

You nod, once more. Aventurine closes his eyes for a moment, reciting a prayer lost to you in time.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

A brief pause passes. You sigh in unison, and lock eyes. A voice whispers within the depths of your mind, and you smile.

The memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

As the last words drift off of your lips, you bend your fingers, slotting them between his. Aventurine shares your sentiment; hope flashed in the gentle smile that graces his lips. Your eyes wander, and notice that a single tear trails down his face, disappearing into his skin as it rolls.

Outside, you hear the crack of thunder. You pull Aventurine in, and in your clutch, the downpour begins.

–

Some months later…

The chatter of voices on the phone rouses you from sleep, rubbing a hand over your eyes in annoyance as you come to. Light spills through drawn curtains and open glass doors, filtering the room in hues of honey and hazel. 

“Mhm. Alright, I understand. Let’s schedule the interview for today.”

Songs of canaries and mourning doves flow through the air, and you sit up, raising a hand to block out the sun’s gaze. Aventurine sets his phone down on the bedside table, stifling a yawn with his hand. You roll onto your side, hand propped up onto your chin as you soak in the sight of your lover.

His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, bangs astray and cast into his eyes. Only the top button of his sleep shirt is buttoned, leaving lean, sun kissed skin on display. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You hum, knowing full well tonight has been one of the worst nights you’ve slept yet. Aventurine sees right through you, but chooses to say nothing, opting to pull you forward so half of your body drapes over him.

Today Aventurine leaves for Penacony. And, seeing as he was called in for a meeting, he’s probably leaving even sooner now. 

He seems to read your thoughts, offering a comforting peck to the corner of your lips in apology. Your hands card through his hair, head resting against his collarbone. 

You have your apprehensions about Penacony, having heard whispers on the streets of mysterious disappearances of people in the world’s famous dreamscape. The IPC has had a limited number of run-ins with the family, leading you to assume a recent grounds of suspicion has arised, and Aventurine was chosen as the solution. In his eyes, it’s just another gamble of life or death.

You’re roused from your thoughts by a tap on your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” His words do little to soothe you, but you listen regardless. “The risks I take are always foolproof.”

Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

His phone rings, and the two of you groan before he gets up and tells the person on the other line that he’s on his way. You watch from his side of the bed as he throws his clothes on, grabbing two packed suitcases from the side of the bed before bending over to give you a kiss. The touch of his lips is bittersweet, nearly taunting as it is over before it even begins. You peck him again, running a hand over his hairline to straighten his bangs.

“Be safe out there, Aven.”

He smiles, so radiant it rivals the sun and all that it shines on. You think yourself blessed to see it survive.

“I will. Luck is always on my side.”

And he leaves. You turn to the window, awaiting the rain.

— a reason. ft aventurine

— warnings: slight cursing and violence and spoilers for the new hsr quest

— author's note: this is very long and very much a giant word vomit. first work in hsr is aventurine, i fear favoritism is real.

‘everything happens for a reason.’

aventurine has never felt so sick and tired of that phrase. something about it makes his fists clench from beneath the table and stomach flip and twist uncomfortably from within.

if everything happens for a reason, then what was the reason behind his clan’s massacre? what was the reason for the stirring in his guts whenever he looked in the mirror? what was the reason behind all of his fortune now turned to misfortune?

aventurine hated not knowing the reason.

“and this pretty thing,” jade motioned towards you by her side. standing motionless, back straight and all. “is [name]. be sure to play nice, aventurine.”

what was the reason behind your new recruitment? better yet, why were you placed as his new assistant? the last time aventurine checked, he was doing perfectly fine. steadily climbing up his rank with his risky gambles and bargaining skills. he couldn't wrap his head around it so he just sighed and accepted it.

“thank you for always looking after me, jade.” his voice carried evident sarcasm but the woman only smiled and pushed you towards his direction. he had to physically stop himself from recoiling from the action and gave you a smile.

“it's a pleasure to meet you, [name].” he held his hand out for you to take. you were hesitating, aventurine noticed. but after a few seconds you slowly slid your hand into his and gave it a firm shake. “the pleasure is all mine, mr. aventurine.”

the blonde man held onto your hand for a moment longer before slipping it away and tucking it behind his back. he surveyed your form making you want to squirm under such a gaze, and he noticed.

“let's be good friends.”

—

working with aventurine was strange, not that you didn't expect it. you spent the past six months running around the IPC from one office to another carrying mountains of papers and constantly picking up calls from the communication device in your ear. other times, you'll be out and about trailing aventurine like a lost duckling when you need to accompany him to missions that require him to be physically present.

honestly, working for the stoneheart will eventually give you an early death from a heart attack. not only is his risky gambling habits very concerning, his way of speaking wasn't exactly everyone's cup of tea. more often than not you’re needed to play as a peacemaker, the middle ground of negotiations to prevent any physical fights from starting.

but it wasn't as bad as you'd assume. you clock in around 9 in the morning and clock out at 5 in the afternoon. sometimes if certain tasks require you for overtime, you'll clock out at around 8 or 9 at night max. all the work aventurine assigns to you aren't all that difficult to handle as well. just simple reports that need to be proofread so he won't have to read over them multiple times, scheduling interviews, picking up calls and informing him of his new missions, and if the situation calls for it, you play as a spy to gather information.

overall aventurine was a good boss.

today was like any other tuesday morning. you clock in just before 9, get your coffee and another cup for your boss, pick up the last reports from the strategic investment department, and then make your way into aventurine’s office to brief him on his schedule.

his office was on the fancier ends, no surprise there as he was one of the ten stonehearts. your shoes clicking when they met the marbled floors, your eyes skimmed through the reports, trying to guess which proposal will be approved or disapproved. when you reached a familiar door, you fixed your hair and readjusted the insignia pinned to your vest. an aventurine stone, just like your boss.

you knock thrice -short, short and long- before you hear a muffled voice tell you to come in.

“good morning, mr. aventurine.” you greet with a slight bow as normal. “as punctual as ever, [name].” raising your head you nod towards topaz’s direction in acknowledgment before making your way to his desk. “here are all the reports from the last mission. i’ve read through all of them and made sure everything is in order.” placing the papers on the table, he dropped the ones in his current hand before taking the new ones, all the while, you place down his coffee which he gladly took.

“you aren't overworking them, have you, aventurine?” topaz inquired, crossing both her arms over her chest. “what kind of boss do you take me for friend? a bad one? i can assure you my assistant is in good hands.” the blonde man chipped in, his fingers flipping from one page to another as you busied yourself trying to organize the scattered reports on his table. feeling topaz's gaze, you give her a slight smile and nod, confirming that aventurine is in fact, wasn't a good boss.

she just sighed and shook her head. motioning for you to come over, you look to aventurine who gave you a nod in turn. you walked towards topaz -feeling the searing stare of aventurine burn through the back of your head- as she took out a flash drive and handed it to you.

“this is the recording of the last meeting in regards to the mission you're tasked with. since you were still in pier port, we started without you.”

“how cruel of you, to start such an important meeting without even waiting for me.”

ah yes, the pier port incident. you smiled wearily as your shoulder slumped when you remembered what happened. you shake your head in amusement of the memory.

“thank you topaz,” you break the silence, like you always do. “i’ll be sure to look over it today.” she smiled at you in appreciation before turning her back on you and waving goodbye.

“well, that was all i came for. catch you two later.”

once the door clicked shut and the sounds of footsteps getting fainter and fainter, you took it as a sign to turn back to your boss who was already looking at you.

“is something the matter, sir?” you ask. he took off his glasses with a hum and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. “be sure to give me a summarized report of the meeting before you go home.” you nod and take a seat on the couch in his office and boot up the laptop on the coffee table. you've always wondered when it suddenly appeared in his office, you were 98% sure it wasn't there when you first started working but aventurine always said that's it been there the entire time.

you shake the thought out of your mind and shift into work mode. hours seem to pass by in the blink of an eye before you heard aventurine call out to you. “i’m sorry mr. aventurine, i'm afraid i didn't hear you.” you heard him sigh and repeat his question. “i said, why did you join the IPC? actually, no, that's not what i want to know.”

when you looked up from the laptop in front of you, your boss had taken a seat across from you. you felt your heart thumping in nervousness.

“what exactly did you do to pique jade’s interest?”

frozen. you felt frozen on your spot. fingers stopping midway from pressing onto the keys. those beautiful eyes you've slowly grown accustomed to seeing unfiltered from his glasses, they make your heart and pulse beat in an unfamiliar rhythm.

“i come from a well-off family.” you start, suddenly feeling conscious of your background. “my parents have worked closely with the stonehearts, i suppose miss jade wanted to continue the diplomatic relationship between my family and the IPC.”

“is that the reason why you're here now?”

you simply nod even though you weren't so sure if that really was the reason.

“let me ask you another question.”

letting out a startled noise when the laptop in your lap suddenly close with a gloved hand sitting on top of it, you stare at aventurine's purple eyes that had rings of teal, something so uniquely him that you couldn't help but get lost in them. he took the laptop from your grasp and set it on the coffee table as he leaned both his arms on his legs.

“do you like working under me?”

the question caught you off guard and it showed with how the corner of aventurine’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. hiding behind a closed fist and clearing your throat, you pray that your voice wouldn't waver as you answer.

“i do.” you peaked towards his directions and he didn't seem satisfied with your answer so you list out all the reasons why you like working with him. “despite your… questionable habits, i’ve come to grow used to them as time goes on.” a fond smile made its way to your lips when you dug around your mind trying to find your memories that had aventurine in them, only to realize that he was in all of them.

“i’ve come to enjoy all your little shenanigans in missions.”

“i'll have you know, calling your boss’ plans “shenanigans” could lead to your bonus being cut by a few percent.” he huffed like a child as he decided to just sit back and cross his arms over his chest and raise his chin at you. you chuckle at the action and continue.

“ever since i was a child, i have always wanted to travel the cosmos. but since i’m the only child to my mother and father, my childhood, teenage years, and now adulthood is centered around business and trade. going out on missions with you to different planets, they heal that little part of me that wished to travel.”

“but sometimes, i truly believe that you want me to die from a heart attack.” you hear him snicker from under his breath as he fixes the watch on his wrist. “i know that as a gambler taking risks is just a part of it but aeons, do they scare me to death sometimes.”

“if i knew you cared about me so much, maybe i would tone it down a bit!” there was a playful undertone to his voice as he talked to you. you let out a laugh and shake your head. “no offense sir, but i sincerely doubt that.”

“you wouldn't be the boss i've grown accustomed to if you didn't do your risky gambles.”

something flickered in aventurine's eyes, you were sure of it. but before you could find out what it was he suddenly stood up, putting on his usual glasses and giving you a closed eyed smile.

“well, that was all what i wanted to ask you.” you wanted to ask something in return, but you never had the chance to even get a word out when he was already halfway out the door. “be sure to finish that summary before the day ends. leave it at my desk as usual.”

and just like that, the office door clicked shut.

—

“if i told you the reason, that'd be the same as revealing a trade secret.”

aventurine remembered jade's word. how could he not when they repeated in his mind like a broken record.

after he left his office, it felt like he suddenly went back in time. it just had been roughly a month after you were given the position as his assistant and aventurine wasted no moment at the end of that friday afternoon to dash in jade's office and ask her the question: why were you his assistant.

aventurine scoffed at jade's response while she only smiled. clicking his tongue in annoyance as the woman led him in circles when he kept asking. what was the reason? was it that hard to answer?

the next few days weren't necessarily the best. he was like a walking ticking time bomb, ready to blow up at any second. everyone in the IPC kept their distance from him -not like they didn't keep their distance to begin with, some started whispering among the hallways about his potential termination after a very big gamble he almost, almost, lost. what ticked him off the most, was you.

he felt so frustrated at you because why were you so damn perceptive. those past few days, the papers that were messily and hastily thrown on the giant table in his office were suddenly organized into neat piles, all held together with different colored paperclips and a sticky note of when each pile was due to be submitted. how every morning you wouldn't fail to knock thrice at his door -short, short and long- at exactly 3 minutes before 9 in the morning with two cups of coffee in your hands. or the times where you would take one good look at him and start lighting up the candles in his office that you started buying for him because you noticed he'd be slightly less stressed when the room didn't smell like fear and insecurity.

what he hated the most was even after his little temper tantrum the past few days began to subdue, you still continued your almost doting actions towards him.

when did he start anticipating your methodical knocks 3 minutes before 9? when did he suddenly grow disappointed whenever someone knocked on his door and it wasn't you? topaz had suddenly grown confused when he suddenly came into the meeting room with a cup of coffee in his hand and when she asked about it he would simply say, “well, my darling assistant bought it for me!”. the multiple scented candles in his office that burned too quickly so at the end of every month he'd have you go out and buy some more.

when did he start using his left hand -the hand he left bare from rings, the same hand that shook in fear of losing- to guide the small of your back away from the crowd whenever you would accompany him to missions?

when did he start taking off the glasses that hid the eyes he wanted to sell to someone else?

it was so confusing yet so simple at the same time. aventurine had grown fond of his little assistant. he has grown fond of you. and that was all there is to it. after all, why would he go out of his way to get that customized brooch that you wear every single day when you come to work if he hadn't. how his chest would swell with pride whenever you spoke with higher positioned officers in the IPC and how they would avert their gaze because of the pin on your vest.

and he knows that you know of his sudden change in demeanor. you just never say a word for his sake. how he went from being a distant and acquainted boss to a friend. an actual friend. and that was supposed to be it. he did say in your first meeting that you should be good friends, but how was he supposed to keep his words after the little stunt you pulled at pier port?

it was a simple mission, negotiate and get the upper hand, nothing more and certainly nothing less. like any other mission, he was accompanied by you and some other people under the IPC. everything was going smoothly until one of them just had to open their mouth and talk shit about his already dreadful past just because he had forgotten to put on his glasses. he truly has grown a bit too comfortable with you around, and he didn't like it.

“what's a sigonian scum like you doing in the IPC? why don't you crawl back into the hole you came from?”

he just sighed. shaking his head, hiding his left hand behind his back, shielding it away from everyone's gaze as it shook with anger, disgust, and the tantalizing question of why.

why did he have to go through this?

and then you did something out of the ordinary.

the sweet assistant of aventurine suddenly pulled out the gun situated on your hip and pointed it directly to the man’s forehead, a deathly glimmer shining in your eyes as your index threateningly ghosted over the trigger.

“if you do not take back what you said just now, i won't hesitate to put a bullet or two in that empty skull of yours.”

then you started walking, and he started backing up. you didn't stop until the man was standing on the edge of the port, one simple push and he'd be drowned in the vast icy oceans. that is, if he wasn't already drowning in the fury of your eyes.

aventurine felt his body move in instinct. his left hand holding your wrist and slowly putting it down at your side. he gave a half assed apology about your behavior and ushered you to your original destination. this time, he kept his hand on your back, specifically near the gun on your hips to make sure you didn't point it at someone else.

“do they always speak to you that way?” you ask barely above whisper. eyes strained one the road you were walking one while his bore into your very being. “i’ve grown used to it. be sure to not point that gun of yours to any potential partners, m’kay?” to prove his point, he tapped the gun on your hips with his finger and you just sighed. a simple yes stumbling past your lips before being enveloped by silence.

aventurine was sure. he was very, very, sure that was the last nail in the coffin, and the answer to the question he's been asking.

the entire day, you stuck by his side. glued to the fucking hip and no one dared to utter a single word about him. the meeting went smoothly and when everyone was preparing to go home, he called you over and said:

“that stunt you pulled earlier, stays between us, alright, friend?”

and you simply nod in understanding.

you carry your bags onto the ship to take you back home only to be taken aback when aventurine comes to steal it away from your hands. “take it as thanks for earlier.” he remembered that look of shock before it turned into something else -what it was he didn't know because you turned away before he could even fathom what of it made his stomach do flips.

even when he came to drop off your things at your personal room, he found himself lingering by the door. watching you unpack your things as he stood idly. you would eventually turn to him and ask if he needed anything more, and out of curiosity he asked: “why did you point your gun at that man?” he will never forget the look of puzzlement on your face when he asked.

“because he said something unpleasant to you. as your assistant, i can't allow others to simply trample on your name.”

he spent the night staring up at the ceiling while laying on his bed. your words mingling in with jade's in his mind, trying to fit the two like puzzle pieces to ease the racing of his heart and uneasiness of his mind. he didn't like assuming things. a conjecture such as this would cost him too much, but tonight he indulged himself in the thought.

picking up his phone and messaging jade, he laid his forearm over his eyes and sighed.

“this room smells horrible…” he muttered. the strong scent of chlorine made his mind spin. making him miss the scented candles you had slowly but surely placed inside his office. he'd grown so fond of them that he'd bought some of his own to place around his home. “ah… i think i'm screwed.”

—

it has been approximately 3 system hours since you arrived in penacony, and roughly a few system hours before aventurine's eventual demise.

topaz had just finished speaking with the trailblazer and their companions. when they had left you stood next to her and stared at the giant prison turned hotel.

“you… don't seem too worried.” topaz said, you felt her gaze but you didn't turn to look at her, instead you just gazed into nothing. “it would be a lie if i said i wasn't worried.” you were most definitely worried, terrified even. no matter how many times aventurine does his high risk gambles, you will never get used to it, not when it causes ghostly hands to squeeze at your heart at the sheer thought of him losing. the thought of losing him.

“but i trust miss jade's judgment. i trust aventurine.”

roughly a day before his departure to penacony, curiosity got the best of you and you stuck around the meeting room in secret when aventurine stayed behind.

“what can i do for you, aventurine?” jade's voice slightly echoed in the empty room. your hands slightly shook in fear of being caught, but you were just so curious about what has been going on with your boss that you couldn't fight the urge to eavesdrop a bit. “oh nothing much. i take it you received my message?” you assumed the woman nodded because aventurine continued. “i must admit, your little plan worked. but is it really necessary?”

jade stood up from her seat, her heels clicked on the marble floor and aventurine followed her until they were by the door.

“well, it's better to stay safe than sorry. and besides, this doesn't count as a complaint, right?”

you heard him chuckle. somehow, even though you hid behind a pillar you felt his stare bore into your being. you could almost imagine those purple eyes that had rings of teal in them that made you weak in the knees.

“no, not necessarily. i could never consider it as a complaint.” he took a moment before asking another question. “but i want to hear it from you, friend. why did you assign [name] as my assistant?”

“it's rather simple really,” jade replied. “you need a reason to leave penacony alive, no? i simply made it easier for you.”

you? the reason for aventurine's will to live? it seemed rather silly. how you, a simple assistant, be so much of importance to someone like aventurine, but with how topaz came to hold the hand that gripped the brooch he had given you, you thought otherwise.

this half a year you've been working with him, you like to think that you've gotten to know him very well.

how when you stood beside him as he sat himself in another gamble, he would always lay his left hand on his lap, fingers curled into fists so tight you were afraid his palms were bleeding.

how he always hid his “weaker” hand behind his back in dire situations to hide his fear.

or when he would always take off his glasses in his office whenever you were there. and that laptop you were 98% sure wasn't there when you started working? aventurine apparently got it specifically for you so you could work in his office.

but what you were most sure of was:

“aventurine doesn't make deals he knows he won't benefit from. he'll win, he always does. he'll come back, i know it.”

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear. for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

We love Aventurine [Reshares are much appreciated <3]

May I request Aventurine going through a lot after his girlfriend broke up with him out of fear? He barely eats, he can't sleep, and keeps having dreams if her. One night, he goes to her house and, after a long talk (with lots of tears), they get back together.

A/N : Anonnn why are you so mean to him :((( *proceeds to write a 2,5k words long worth of tormenting Aventurine* also this might turn darker than what you were expecting so please do mind that you shouldn't read it if you don't feel comfortable!

Warning (please read) : I gotta be honest this is pretty fucked up, please MDNI, probably graphic, self loathing, self blaming, insecurity, alcohol, drugs, detailed description of self destruct, obsessive behaviour, psychological trauma, manipulation, slight mindbreak, happy ending

You, leaving him in the middle of such a lovely day surely wasn't in his schedule back then. You came to him that afternoon, eyes swollen and your figure trembling like crazy. He had just finished his paper before he stood up abruptly, heading straight to the door of his office where you stood there unmoving. 

.・゜゜・

“What happened to you, dear?! Let's get you some water-” He was about to bring you out of his office before you quickly shook your head. You held the hem of his fancy coat to prevent him from going anywhere. 

“I have something to say,” He stays right in front of you, his Sigonian eyes focusing on your pitiful state. 

“Let's end it here.” Aventurine cannot believe what he had just heard. 

“End what, to be exact? If it's the movie site subscription you've mentioned last week, then we can upgrade it to-” You throw him a troubled expression, as if unsure of yourself but your speech says otherwise. 

“End this relationship. I can't keep up with you, Aventurine. Whether it is a space I needed or if this whole relationship is just not working, it could be both.”

“Wait- you can't be serious! Let's talk this through,” his confident tone breaks in an instant, his lips quivering. He tried to hold your hand in his, but you pulled it away from him. You whispered a small ‘no’ before turning your body to leave him. 

“Was it me?” you feel horrible for him but it's for the best. You continued your step as he followed right behind you like a lost puppy. 

“Please, you can tell me anything! Is it my wrongdoing? Just tell me- I won't get mad, I can fix it! Look, just stay here for a little longer and let's try to figure something out- is it my gambling addiction? Or I could erase more of my upcoming schedule to spend more time with you- wait, no, is it that you're mad at me for always teasing you? Was it the way I rarely came home on time- am I too overbearing? Do you not like anything from me- point it out to me-” Words poured out of his mouth like waterfall, his head feels heavy and his thought is a jumbled mess. Aventurine tried to recall anything in his memory that might make you sick of him. He tried to make a reason within his coherent thoughts to pinpoint on why you might leave him so suddenly. The man had his own concerns towards how he feels like he isn't doing enough for you. After all, you're his everything. He'd do anything, anything to keep you by his side and he meant it. Aventurine trusted you with his whole life so whatever came out of your mouth, he would do it without any hesitation.

The moment you stopped on your tracks, his mouth immediately went shut. 

“It's not you, Aventurine. It's not your fault and I hope you understand. So please… stop following me, okay?” 

.・゜゜・

Since then Aventurine felt like his whole world had been flipped upside down. He stands right where you told him to stop following you, not moving an inch even after you were long out of sight. His buzzing phone inside his coat didn't move him a bit as if he's a mere wax statue. He can't feel his legs. Or feel anything at all at this point. Only when his assistant came to grab him back on track, he reluctantly left his previous spot. 

Calling him a goner was an understatement. 

This man is beyond salvation. The first few days of your absence were still tolerable as his brain is still digesting your departure. His consciousness thinks that you're still around and he can bump on you anytime. That very small habitual thing kept him at bay for such a short time and by the time he realized that you're not coming back for good, he snapped. 

Aventurine tried his best to keep his work on time, traveling here and there, managing things as usual, but it gets too much real quick. It's his job, isn't it? 

Truthfully speaking, his life was such a mess before you came and you've made him human in every possible way. You were so close, he loved you so much, you loved him so much, every day passed with you was always better than before. Ahh… Aventurine needs to get this stinging wound off his chest if he needs to do anything. He's too scared to call you, or to text you, even. He was sure that the sole reason why you left him was himself. He cannot possibly burden you further, no? You've been so so generous to even spare your heart for him. To shower him with your attention you gave him. Even if you were to strip his wealth off him, he wouldn't think it'll be enough for him to repay your deeds for every system hour you waste on him. 

It was always like this. The moment Aventurine comes home to his supposed shared apartment, he frantically rummages through your closet to grab… anything you've left there. He pulled one of your comfy shirts with care to bury his face in it. He's glad that it still has your lingering scent. How long has it been? One week? Two weeks? He can't even count. He tried to cope so hard without you but he doesn't even have the strength to actually reach out to you in fear of pushing you even further from him. If he's being rational and, as you said before, gave you space, surely there are still chances? 

Aventurine plops himself to his bed, not even caring about changing his clothes. He hugs your clothes close to him while he's inhaling it like his life depends on it. Well, his life might be. Your remaining scent was the only thing that can calm him down to actually sleep. At least even with your usual spot beside him vacant, where he cannot examine your peacefully sleeping face anymore, he still has some part of you left with him. 

So what happens when he doesn't have any more things revolving around him? 

Aventurine tried to find any remaining clothes or items you left to might still have your scent in it only to find none. He bit his own lip, hard. His head is getting dizzy. Maybe he still has those homemade jellies you've made inside his fridge! He brings himself to the kitchen only to find none. Ah, right, when did he last eat a decent meal? He didn't know. He has been savoring the remaining things you've cooked inside the fridge. He often came home late so you've managed to make some meals that'll last some time being frozen or kept. He had been only eating off it when he really, really needed it. When will he actually get a taste of your cooking again? Even as a gambler, he wouldn't dare to guess. 

He groaned in frustration at the fact and fell down to his knees. His head is hammering so bad he feels like he needs to take it off him. 

So what will he do if there's nothing left? 

Aventurine stumbles his way to the cabinet he rarely touches with you around him. A full bottle of vodka could probably help him. He chugged the whole thing carelessly, anything to get him off this lonely feeling. His head felt like it was full of knots which kept him from forming any rational solution. He should start to consume those cheap pills that helped him through his early IPC days. Whatever it is inside it, it helped him through things. Maybe if the dosage isn't enough he could use a more potent one. Anything to keep his brain working. He can’t at least lose his job, right?

To those who have seen Aventurine a lot, they will notice how his form deteriorates so quickly. His skin got paler, eyes unfocused, and his seemingly permanent business smile was barely there. No one is there to actually keep an eye on him. Even his oh so silent bodyguards got concerned about him. They’re probably worrying about their paychecks, but it still counts doesn’t it? Man doesn’t even get to sleep, he just continues drinking and drugging himself until he passes out. The amount of time passed while he’s unconscious should be enough to count as sleep hours. It will be bad if this keeps on, but Aventurine couldn’t worry less. As long as his work is done, right? 

Everyday he looks at his one and only pinned chat. Your contact. There has been no single chat coming from you, so he assumes that you really did leave him for good. You don’t even use any single credit inside the banking app connected to his account. Did you delete it off your phone? You probably did. He knows too well that your presence in his life cannot be bought with any amount of credit possible. Aventurine didn’t want to bother you, he really did, but he has been long past his breaking point. He types on your chat, hands trembling so wildly over such simple text.

“Help me”

—

Everything felt like a blur. The moment you agreed to help him, he flew to your place in an instant. Aventurine knocked your door desperately, only for you to open the door shocked at his miserable state. You pulled him to your couch. No words were exchanged until you came back to him with some water and snacks. 

“I need you back,” His voice shakes, hands too unstable to do anything. He can finally see you again. You shushed him, not wanting him to talk before taking some of the drink you gave him. What happened to him?

“I can’t keep this going- please, tell me what I did wrong, I know I’m not the most flattering lover, but if there’s anything I can do to have you back- I’ll do it” his words are frantic, fat tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You feel like a knife just stabbed you right in your heart. Was it you who made him like this? 

You sit beside him, hugging his trembling form. He quickly reciprocates your gesture, his tears finally spilled as he sobbed at the feeling of your warm embrace. You didn’t know it’ll be this bad.

“You did nothing wrong, my dearest… Aeons, what happened to you?”

“Then why did you leave me…?” It was a complicated story, really. Seeing him in such a pitiful state wouldn’t be a proper time to explain everything. You stroked his back to soothe him, opting to offer him some meal to at least let him recover first. He nodded eagerly at the suggestion. It’ll be a cute sight to see him clinging to you, refusing to leave your side while you walk around the house to prepare him some dinner. If he wasn’t this utterly traumatized. 

You managed to let him eat to the fullest and take some shower while changing to one of your oversized shirts. He looked so happy you couldn’t imagine what happened to him during your absence. You took him to your bed, Aventurine is now nice and clean. 

“So now you’ll tell me?” He asked you, looking so innocent in contrast to the state he came here earlier. You sighed, positioning yourself beside him. 

“I would, but seeing your concerning eyebags, I think it’ll be better if you sleep first?” He thought about it for a moment. You sensed his hesitation so you opened your arms for him. 

“I promise I won’t leave you. You trust me, don’t you?” and that sealed the deal, he jumped right to your embrace. It didn’t take him long to sleep in your arms. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The moment he woke up, seventeen hours later, you were sitting next to him while scrolling through your phone. Aventurine couldn’t be more happy. Seeing him now awake and refreshed, you wasted no time to answer his questions. 

Apparently a certain group of IPC executives were giving you misinformation about how he loathed your presence, as if he was forced to keep you beside him, but he was too occupied with work so he couldn’t really do anything about you. They said that it would be better if you initiated the breakup. Your presence had made him less productive, too many unnecessary leaves, and you’re one of the reasons why he always came home late. They said that it was because he doesn’t want to see you so early during nighttime. You wanted to shrug the idea off but they had a point. He always came back late. And they do spend more time with Aventurine than you are. They worked together since you haven’t met him. You wanted to trust Aventurine for not being such a person, but with how you know him, he is great at masking his expression. He can control his appearance as he wishes like an autopilot and you’re sure to think that he could’ve done it to you too. 

Every lie they told you was perfectly tailored to the point you actually believed them. Hence why you looked so bad when you came to his office that afternoon, you were contemplating with yourself as well. The moment you’ve left him, there are no chats from him, which on your side confirms that he is indeed sick of you. You wanted to ask him about how he’s doing but you didn’t want to burden him. You’ve been using his credits for your needs as he asked to, the amount of gifts and dresses he gave you weren’t a laughable amount. You’ve done so little compared to him, and to have people he’s close to shoving the fact that you’ve been nothing but a hassle to him? Not to mention how powerless you are compared to them to actually do something about it. Mind Breaking. 

A long silence enveloped the both of you as you finished your side of the story. It could’ve been prevented by a vocal communication, but he wasn't to blame you for whatever happened. He could feel his rage form at the thought of you, going through such layers of manipulation just for being there beside him. But who is he kidding, of course lots of people would pay a hefty sum of credit to watch his downfall. Now with things clear from your side and his, Aventurine knows where to collect his next debt.

To be honest I am quite surprised that I haven’t receiving any yandere aventurine asks so I might do one myself later <3 If you want to support me please tip me on ko-fi so I can buy noodle packs HEHE, or commission me (I can do any hyv characters! I have other fandoms as well, you can just ask away) and Thank you for reading!

pre-relationship stage with them

characters - Gepard, Aventurine notes- gn!reader, pining, light angst but mostly fluffy, a bit of hurt/comfort. I love blonde preservation men okay. no beta we die like the economy in my country

Gepard

Poor poor Geppie.

He pines so much. Treats his love for you like a tender flower. Even his feelings for you is something so precious to him, he's happy to simply be in love with a person like yourself.

I feel like this poor man willd try so much to do everything for you without giving away how deeply he cares and how intense his feelings are.

"Aw, lil' Geppie, you care about y/n so much!" "I- I do not. I mean, of course I do! But- There's nothing surprising about it. After all, it's my duty as a Captain to care about every citizen. And, of course, it's my duty as a friend" to care about them.

Sure, Gepard. Sure.

He would never say something like this to your face though. After all, he simply can't lie to you.

Oh but how he adores you. His face literally lights up when he sees you, the most gentle smile blooms on his face when he watches you doing even the most trivial task.

Tries to act like his usual self around you but it's pretty evident to everyone that you're his weak spot.

Would gently scold you if you would ever put yourself in danger or break any rules.

If you would get seriously hurt would actually lose his mind. Would blame himself even if the situation has nothing to do with him. Beats himself up, asks for your forgiveness and does his best to help you.

Despite the popular belief that he would prioritize his work over his beloved, I don't think it's true. Sure, he takes his duties seriously, but he would always find time for you. Would make sure to see you at least two times a weak, would answer your texts and calls. If you need him, would certainly be right by your side. Even if it means he would have to work overtime later.

Tease him a bit and he's all red. Doesn't try to stop you though, secretly adores your attention.

Would be oblivious to the fact that you like him back. Like. Really dense about it.

He's just so used to giving, to protecting, he simply doesn't expect anything in return. He has silently accepted the fact that you may never love him back, but he will be there for you regardless of it, no matter what.

Plus, he feels like he may not be the one for you. Like you need someone who doesn't have to constantly put their life in danger, who can always be by your side, who won't break your heart. Because he's painfully aware that each fight may actually be his last. That he may not come back to you.

Speaking of that. He would make sure to say a proper goodbye to you before every battle or expedition. Nothing too sappy or depressing, he doesn't want to make you worry, after all. Would probably tell you to take care of yourself, to sleep well and to eat healthy food lol. He really just wants to make sure that he got to see you before heading straight into the battle.

If you're a Silvermane guard as well, would restrict himself even more, not wanting to use his position or to be pushy. However, would still be worried sick, even more so. Would still talk to you before every battle, asking almost begging you to be careful.

Loves giving you head pats.

Generally the goodest boy. Just make sure to make the first move because otherwise he would be satisfied with just being your loyal puppy.

Aventurine

Good lord.

This man is such a mess.

Be ready for a mindfuck but not because he's manipulative towards you or something like that but because there's so many layers of trauma in him.

You have to be patient with him okay.

I feel like pre-relationship stage would be so confusing to him. He had flings in the past, okay? Short ones, meaningless. Something to distress, to feel another person's touch, to feel some sort of connection, no matter how shallow it is. He knew he uses those people and that those people use him in return. Not once he asked them to be gentle or caring.

But with you it's so different. Doesn't matter if your relationship started sexually and developed into something more or if it was mostly platonic/slow since the beginning. He still feels something. And he's not sure if he likes it.

Sometimes it feels so good to be seen, to be addressed as a person, not just as a tool. But sometimes it scares him. After all, this man hasn't been vulnerable with anyone for a long, long time.

I'm sorry but I feel like he would try to pull away from you a bit when realizing how much you actually mean to him.

Oh but he will crumble if you reach out to him, okay? He simply can't ditch you like that, not when you see him for him and want him for him.

Even if it's scary.

Would slowly relax around you. Don't expect him to open up easily but still, the more time you spend together, the more his cocky mask will slip away.

Will randomly and out of the blue tell you small details about his past. You two may walk down the street together and he will see something that reminds him of Sigonia so he will share this memory with you.

It may be the smallest thing but it means a lot to him that you listen. Even this tiny moments of vulnerability are hard for him.

On the more positive note, he's so fun to be around. Would tease you and cling to you all of the time. If you tease him back, he would pretend to be offended but would actually enjoy the playful banter a lot.

Just don't tease him too much about him becoming more and more clingy with each passing day.

Spoils you rotten. New clothes, jewelry, watches, shoes, anything you may want or need. He still can't quite get rid of this idea that you have to be convenient for someone to be valuable. It's not like he's trying to buy your love but... Maybe subconsciously he does. Once again, be patient. This man is so used to the fact that all of his alliances are build on mutual benefit that it's still hard to accept that you're really here for him.

Spoiler even when he will feel more stable in your relationship and his mindset will turn more healthy, gift giving will still remain one of his love languages.

Just like Gepard, would care greatly about your safety. He may be careless about his own life but never with yours.

Loves, loves, loves physical contact. As I said before, gets very clingy, putting his arm over your shoulder or tugging on your sleeve. If he's feeling down, would crawl to you side and subtly brush his shoulder against yours or lean to your side. He may still have his confident smile but those small gestures show that he wants you to be the one holding him this time.

Invades your personal space a lot actually. Texts you constantly too lmao.

LOVES SILLY NICKNAMES. Would call you his dearest darling in the sweetest voice during the most inappropriate time and then laugh at your reaction. Would settle for something more casual like "baby" when he's not trying to be a pain in the ass. Still tries to play it off as something teasing. Deep down yearns to call you this without having to pretend that this is just a playful banter between two friends.

Oh and he would dance around the topic of dating, throwing hints but never having the courage to ask openly. So good luck with him.

request // celebrations of your and aventurine's birthday :) written with gender neutral reader in mind, fluff ! :) perhaps his final gift for you may be considered ooc by some, but I truly and firmly believe in sentimental, romantic aventurine with all my might <3

* last part in your birthday's celebration, I left an open space so you can imagine the place that may be important or romantic to you in some way, so I don't ruin the moment, eheh :3

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

• Aventurine's birthday

as mentioned before, given Aventurine's rather rough childhood, he never got to experience the perks of being a child or having his birthday celebrated. Truthfully, he rarely got celebrated as a person given his roots, so it's quite an unfamiliar experience for him overall. Due to that, he doesn't expect anything from you. He doesn't daydream about it simply because he doesn't even understand what birthdays are all about. Anything he wants, he can get now, so it's really not a big deal to him

however, contrary to his beliefs and mindset, you have a lot of ideas. You are aware that there isn't really a gift you can buy that he didn't already get for himself long time ago, so your main focus becomes the celebration of him and pouring your love out by preparing a huge surprise!

he is an intelligent man, but he tends to be slightly naïve around you - that, combined with his genuine disinterest in his birthday makes your plan go smoothly! You plan out for weeks in advance, making a deal with Topaz and a few other of his coworkers to surprise him at work in order to start the day in good spirits and get most out of it. They promise that they won't mention anything about you as you behave like his birthday isn't a big deal to you either - all while preparing a huge surprise for him at home

he texts you at some point, telling you about the surprise his coworkers threw for him. From the tone of his message, you can tell that he was, in fact, pleasantly surprised, however you ignore a message as you begin to put up decorations of all sorts. You mostly go for peacock colors as they do represent celebrations, pride and happiness. You tape balloons in green, blue and red colors all over your shared apartment, making it much more vibrant and beautiful. You use golden balloons to spell out "happy birthday", taping them on the biggest wall in the living room <3

you bake him a cake after going through all sorts of recepies, finding the tastiest one based on the ratings - a huge chocolate cake in a heart shape with strawberries on the edges. You spell "I love you" in a white frosting, admiring your good work for a moment before putting it on the table so he sees it almost immediately as he enters the apartment <3 You add one candle as he is turning one year older, but it's also more sufficient given the nature of the cake

gifts were a tricky part, but you managed to find something that he doesn't have, yet it might be meaningful to him. You get a custom pair of golden rings, one having engraved "pride" on the inner part and the other having "love" engraved in order to always remind him that he is your pride as well as your love. Aventurine does have a lot of rings, but none of them are truly sentimental in any way, so you hope that this will be up to his taste while also having parts of your heart on them <3

then, you nervously wait for his arrival. He should be home in a couple of minutes and each minute feels a year long. You are slightly worried about his reaction, but you hope for the best as you closely listen for the footsteps. Finally, you hear the key going into the lock as your heart beats out of your chest, hand quickly reaching for a lighter to light up the candle and place the rings in front of the cake

"Hey babe, I sent you a message, have you-"

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Rinnie, happy birthday to you!" you sing happily, clapping your hands as your body trembles with mixture of excitement and nervousness. Aventurine remains still, hands filled with bags of gifts from his coworkers, gaze rushing throughout the room. He blinks a few times, lips parting a bit as you rock your body back and forth, trying to subside the anxious nerves.

"I don't know if you mind.." you finally speak up in a insecure tone, unsure of his thoughts at the moment. He quickly drops the bags on the floor, embracing you into a tight, such a tight hug, slightly lifting you up in the process.

"Why did you drop the bags?! Topaz got you an expensive watch!" you say panicky, but quickly return the hug with a soft chuckle.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you..!" Aventurine whispers into your ear, gratitude and excitement evident in his tone as he gently twirls you around, finally putting you on the ground, even though he still keeps you close. He slowly leans away, eyes admiring you, then the cake, then you again.

"How did you know about the watch?" he raises his eyebrow, tone suddenly more serious, but a soft smile spreads across his face as he gains a nervous reaction out of you.

"Ahh, don't mind that! The candle is going to melt away completely, time to make a wish!" you point at the cake, voice a mixture of nervousness and happiness. He just gives you a knowing look, gently kissing your cheek, then your nose, your forehead and finally placing a soft kiss on your lips.

you sing him a song again before he blows a candle that was barely even holding up, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered to him right now, but you. When he sees the gift you got him and hears your messy explanation of the meaning behind it, he just embraces you into a tight, warm hug again. Immediately after, he takes off his usual rings and puts the ones you got him, making you kiss them so they hold more of you in them. He won't tell you that when you are away from each other and he misses you, he might just kiss the rings himself <3

you spend the rest of the day enjoying together, but Aventurine makes sure to tell you how much this means to him as it truly changed his perspective on things once more. Now, he looks forward to celebrating his birthdays, even gaining a bit of playful cockiness as he jokes how he deserves a prince treatment for every single one of them. But, what he truly believes in and feels deep in his heart is exactly what he wished for while blowing out a candle - he wishes to keep growing old alongside you as your laughter and sweet song welcomes him every next birthday <3

• Your birthday

Aventurine is less of a stay-at-home surprise for your birthday. He is probably more excited about it than you are, truth to be told. Which can be confirmed by the way he anxiously waits for midnight to give you all the gifts as well as the endless kisses and birthday wishes!

as soon as the clock turns midnight, he is on top of you, embracing you in a bear hug as he places kisses all over your face. He will be a bit cheesy and dramatic about it, repeating "It's my baby's birthday!" over and over again as he rolls you around in the bed, keeping you tightly hugged with him <3

as soon as you manage to utter words of gratefulness as soft giggles sneak up in-between, he jumps, quickly going to a place where he was hiding all the presents for you! Now, be prepared, because he can and he will get you every single thing you mentioned in past 6 months or so, no matter how absurd, no matter even if you aren't interested in those things anymore :3

he will eagerly wait for you to open them, praising your shocked expression each time you open a gift, only to be met with some things that you mentioned perhaps once, with not even giving it remote importance at the time. Books, electronics, clothes, shoes, mangas, jewerly, equipment - truly anything you may have even thought about is yours now :3

before you get a chance to scold him, as he knows you probably will, he runs out of the room, leaving you alone for a couple of minutes. You did know that he is extra, but as he walks back into the room with a cake that has 3 levels - you truly see how extra he is. You have to remind him that it's only the two of you, so he should bring some to his coworkers when he goes to work. Your idea is met with a harsh scoff, you do own a fridge and this is your cake in your favorite colors and flavors - therefore, no one else gets a taste! (besides him, of course)

then, he sings you a song while lighting up the candles, softly admiring how pretty you are, especially when you are all mushy and happy. He makes a joke that you have nothing to wish for when he is right in front of you, which is most likely the truth, however you roll your eyes at him, not wishing to feed his already well-fed ego. He cuts a piece of cake after you made a wish and the two of you enjoy it in comfortable silence, gazing at one another from time to time, while smiling tenderly <3

you finally go to sleep after endless vocal pours of Aventurine's appreciation and love for you. You tell him that he truly could be an actor in some ancient romantic drama given the way he speaks, but he only takes that as a compliment. On the serious note, listening to him telling you what he admires the most about you (which is everything) all while going into great detail while describing your personality and how wonderful you are, does indeed melt your heart. There wasn't a better thing to hear before going to sleep, so you express your gratitude to him in your own way as you slowly doze off while his warm body keeps you close <3

contrary to falling asleep in such a soft, loving way - you are awaken by Aventurine almost pulling you out of bed at 8am. He talks too fast for your ability right now, all you understand is how you need to get up and you have places to be. Can't a person get a bit more sleep during their birthday? In Aventurine's book - nope. So, you get up feeling a bit grumpy as you get ready for the day you knew nothing about

the whole ride, Aventurine holds your hand tightly, his body quite literally busting from excitement as you try to keep your eyes open. First stop - IPC! Everyone got gathered together by Aventurine to throw you a huge birthday surprise. They know it's 9am, but being an IPC worker required some odd schedules, so they do apologize to you. Meanwhile, your sweet boyfriend goes around and tells everyone how it's your birthday! They...know already. So, naturally, as planned, everyone go up to you to wish you a happy birthday, giving you small gifts and presents, every single one quite thoughtful !

you enjoy spending time with them as no one really pressures you into talking or doing anything special unless you wish to, so you feel pretty comfortable and happy. It wouldn't be bad at all to spend your birthday here with lots of interesting people, good food and laughter, but next stop awaits as you learn when Aventurine grabs you by your hand and tells you it's time to go :3

you spend rest of the day visiting all of your favorite places with Aventurine. Libraries, amusement parks, museums, galleries, shops, cafés, reasturants, fields, game rooms, sport event(s) - whatever you may have ever mentioned of liking and everything that he knows is quite dear to your heart will be visited throughout the day. He takes a lot of pictures of you, his heart melting each time he sees a big smile on your face as you point out something that holds a meaning to you <3

finally, he takes you to a place where you kissed for the first time. It's warm, the breeze is sweet on your skin as there aren't any people to be seen.

"This is actually the gift I wanted to give you the whole day, so I hope this is the right space to do that." he says a bit nervously as he takes out a big book of a sort out of one of the bags he was carrying around.

You gaze down, taking the heavy book, opening it with a slightly hesitant move, only to be met with photos of yourself. You keep turning the pages, noticing written dates at the corners of each. What really catches your eye are small hand-written notes by each one, describing what was happening at that moment and how Aventurine felt about it. Further you go, you also notice pictures and stickers of your birth stone, birth flower and an actual dry flowers being kept safely between the pages. Aventurine would get you flowers all the time and you thought whenever they would dry that he just threw them away, but he kept them in this little photobook of his love for you.

Least to say, your heart turns into a pool of warmth as you keep turning the pages, being met with more and more love, quite literally nothing but the pure love. He did add a couple of more "embarrassing" moments, but it didn't matter because everything he did for you, he did out of love and wish to make you feel as appreciated as you make him, not by using materialistic things, but rather something that comes from bottom of his heart and is made by his own hands.

His collection, just like his love for you keeps on growing every next birthday of yours that you spend together.

SFW alphabet w/ Aventurine plz? 👀

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!! Thank you for the request and I hope you liked it,

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

As much as he’s clueless about this, I think the most familiar form of affection is by spending you his credits! No matter how much he had, he worked hard to get his way to his position no. So I think he’ll spend unnecessarily huge amounts of credit to show that he really is smitten with you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think he never had a real friend before, so, yeah. At first, of course he would think that you’re there just to strike a deal with him. You played along with him and it turns out that you genuinely wanted to befriend him?! He’ll be very happy about it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The moment he knew that he could cuddle you any time possible (if you allow it) you could tell that he’s ecstatic. His favorite position will be him and you facing each other while he buried his face on your neck. This way he could feel your heart beating, your breathing close to him and it might help him to feel human. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I’m not sure about this since this man is all about risk and adrenaline, so it’ll take a very long while for him to actually think about settling down. I like to think that he could cook tho! His early years in the IPC forced him to make the simplest, cheapest meal he could afford (he had to get creative!)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he isn’t fond of the current relationship, I think he’ll treat it like a losing bet and before you know it, he has blocked you since there is no further need to dwell on a failed business. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

To be honest, referring to the previous HC, he’s probably scared about this. Not because he feels like he wouldn’t be able to hold on his own words, rather that if you were to leave him the moment he already had these thoughts, it’s so over for him. As much as he likes risk, he still doesn’t want to be on the losing end :(

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Man plays poker for a living and does magic coin tricks with his hands so I’d like to say that he’s gentle with his touch. He will never raise his hands on you, but emotionally? He’d be as gentle as he can with you since he’s not familiar with displaying his true feelings. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He carves physical touches. He'll do it any time possible, I can even see him surprising you with a hug from behind! He surely is touchy.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

A VERY, VERY LONG WHILE. The concept of love is highly foreign to him, so the moment he has spent enough time for you to learn it, it’ll be a very genuine one :(

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He cannot describe the feeling but he feels really icky when he sees you spending some joyous time with someone else. He’ll suddenly transfer some credit to your personal account multiple times to get your phone buzzing and you’ll instantly remind yourself of him or if you’re close by, he’ll simply tell you that he needs your attention.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His favorite part to kiss you would be anywhere as he most likely wanted you to know that he likes all of you! But he personally likes to be kissed on the cheeks since it’ll make himself all flustered, his cheeks heathen up by the mere contact of your lips. He likes the tingling sensation!

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I MIGHT BE DELUSIONAL ON THIS ONE!! (as if I weren't a delusional lad on a daily basis) BUT!!! Spending the rest of his life treated like trash and having his own parents left him since his early ages had him a soft spot towards struggling children and he’ll help them with what he knows best (giving them credits) :(( but I think he’ll hate the brat type or overly spoiled children so he’d rather not be around one.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a very busy man, most of the time he came back late and left early for work, but ever since he met you, he’ll definitely use his power as a higher up so he could come a little later to thoroughly enjoy the breakfast you’ve made specially for him <3

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Nighttime will probably be his favorite part of the day, since he gets to come home to you and you’d be there with him through his routines even at bed. You’ll most likely fall asleep before him, and he took his time admiring your peaceful sleeping face.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He doesn’t like feeling vulnerable so it’ll take him a long while to reveal himself, take your time with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Man had a poker face as his default expression. He is indeed very patient, he’s used to being fueled to anger by other people so he’s used to it actually. It might be impossible for you to actually anger him, but if it’s about you? Someone messes with you to the point you cry or come ranting at him? It’ll apply otherwise <3

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He cherishes every little detail about you!!! He most likely remembers your preferred taste in meals, or how you like to wear your clothes. If he’s out without you and he sees something that you might like, he’ll most definitely take it on a whim!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

I don’t think he can decide :(( Every minute spent by him is worth every credit possible, and it applies to you. He likes every single second spent with you, even if it’s just you rambling to him about your day, the way you smile when he can finally meet you after his long stressful day of work, you mentioned it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

There are numerous people that are probably seeking his downfall, which resulted in him staying alert most of the time. Rather than how he likes to be protected, it is most likely him who is trying his best to protect you in any way possible.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

THIS IS THE 1 (ONE) THING HE’S GREAT AT AND HE WON’T MISS ANY CHANCE TO SHOW HOW MUCH YOU TRULY MEANT TO HIM!! He’ll put a huge amount of effort into scheduling your perfect dates, or any customized gifts you’d like, heck he won’t mind if you clearly ask him for things, like “Aventurine, can I have a new set of paint for my birthday?” and he’ll probably buy it for you the next day while he used all of his capability to make formulate you the best thing he had in mind for your real birthday present <3 (with this being said, he would probably had a heart attack if you said that the best gift for you is his presence all along)

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Gambling is one of the bad things that he’s addicted to, but since he actually put thoughts on every one of it, you didn’t really mind. Man had calculated every single detail about his plans and gambling is just one of the fun ways to put it in. Your real concern would be him with alcohol :( he could drink an inhumane amount of them if one of his perfectly tailored plans didn’t go well only for him to pass out and wake up with a horrible hangover by morning. One time you cried at how he fainted in the living room and you couldn't bring him up to a warmer place so you brought your blanket just slept with him on the floor and it broke him. If so, he’ll probably try to not do it again.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He literally mentions and points out how his clothes are very expensive, so it’s safe to say that he likes being seen at his best!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

After all that time he had spent with you? It’ll ruin him like BAD bad if you were to leave him, so yes, he’ll be very lost :( 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I like to think that he’s actually very silly and had random improper or stupid questions in mind, like, “Have you ever wondered if crabs think that fishes could fly?” but he never actually say it to anyone until he was comfortable with you and he get to say every silly things he had in mind <3

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he wouldn’t like to be pushed around :( he’ll be very uncomfortable if anyone pushes him to spill how he’s actually feeling or what’s inside his mind, it’ll mess him up in the head (but he’s so good at pretending that it didn’t shake him and he’ll end up lying to shoo that person away) ((man would probably hate therapy)). 

Z = Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

Knowing his past and all makes me think that he’d be a light sleeper. At times, he’d wake up because of nightmares and such, but he never really talks about it with you :(( You can lightly tap his shoulder when he’s asleep and he’ll probably be awake instantly. He’s in constant alert mode.

There are a little more amount of request I had left so I think I'll open it again if I had finished it all! Thank you for reading <3 (I hope I am NOT being TOO delusional)

While I can totally see the toxic side of a relationship with Aventurine, I'm so down bad and soft for him and in love with him that I want him endlessly happy so may I interest you in the healthy version of dating Aventurine...? 👀

I haven't seen anything of him past the conversation he has with Ratio in his hotel room but I HAVE had him spinning around in my head since his very first leaks so I have too many thoughts about him unfortunately.........

I feel like his main love language is physical touch. I can see him having all the love languages tbh but his main feels like physical touch. He just feels like such a physically affectionate person who'd wanna drape himself all over his partner or the other way around. But considering how shit his social life and life in general is, he most definitely hasn't had physical affection reciprocated like. Ever.

So a partner who initiates physical affection with him even prior to establishing a relationship would destroy him methinks. Thanking him for something and then you jump into his arms to hug him tightly... When's the last time he's been hugged? Especially in such an affectionate manner??? Never!!!!!! His brain would shut down, he wouldn't process that he should hug back and when he does it's too late, you've pulled back and he already misses the warmth.

A partner who holds his hand?? ESPECIALLY in public??? It's clear nobody likes him and his reputation precedes him and everybody is space racist to him, so a partner who's unafraid to show him off like he's the greatest prize they could have would also destroy him methinks. He'd definitely adore PDA, but again, single and sad lol. So if his partner is down for PDA, Aventurine is the happiest bc he gets to indulge in his partners affections 24/7 AND ALSO SHOW THEM OFF?? flex that even someone like him could be loved??? Absolutely!!! Your designated seat is always his lap and he always has an arm around your waist or your shoulders and he will always shamelessly kiss you anytime he wants and you return all of it back and make everyone within a 30k mile radius feel single as fuck.

I can imagine once he's entirely comfortable with his partner, he is SUCH a gentleman. Shoes untied? He's getting down on one knee to fix it for you, caressing your leg softly and planting a kiss near your knee before standing back up. No he doesn't care if he gets his precious white pants dirty. No he doesn't care if any camera caught that and there'll be an article with his name in bold next day. Tired?? Will carry you bridal style. Out shopping?? (and he'd definitely love taking you out on shopping sprees) will carry all your bags. Anything!!

He slowly finds himself turning into husband material even if he has not been an ideal husband type ever. He'll find himself wanting to cook a nice meal at home for the two of you, likes having you sitting on the counter looking all pretty while he works and giving him kisses as thanks every now and then, or likes surprising you with it when you come home.

Starts memorizing your orders at restaurants or cafes, will always automatically just go and order your favorites.

Begins to refer to most plans with 'we'. It just comes out naturally. "This is a difficult mission to manage, but we can find a way around it". We. Even if you're not involved in his work in the slightest. You two are intertwined entirely to him.

He never officially asks you to move in. All he knows is one night you slept over and then slowly it became a regular and his house is becoming filled with more and more of your items, starting with your toothbrush then your towels then some spare clothes and now you practically live there. And he's so happy at how natural and comfortable and not awkward it feels. Nothing forced.

Speaking of spending the night, the first time you two shared a bed was insane to him. Being held so tenderly, with so much love and care and warmth.. All things he's so unfamiliar with. He almost couldn't handle it. His favorite sleeping position is either burying his face in your back while spooning you or having his face buried in your chest. He likes your warmth, your heartbeat, your hands stroking his hair and the other wrapped around him, he doesn't care how much of a baby these positions make him look like. He's comfortable and he deserves it.

Showering together was something he wasn't keen about until one time it happened and you washed his hair and he almost cried. Gentle hands rubbing his scalp and stroking his hair and lathering the soap so calmly, he could have died right then and there. Then washing his body with equal amounts of care. He'd never been taken care of that way. He started wanting you there for every single shower, throwing excuses like "I can't reach my back I need you to wash me!" or "my hair felt softer when you did it I don't know how so you have to do it!"

His future is uncertain. But he finds himself looking at your ring finger and wondering what wedding ring cut would look the best on it. Sees you with kids and thinks it'd be nice to have that. But it's a step he's far too afraid to consider taking, with how dangerous his work is and how the rug could get pulled from under him at any second. He'd never want endanger you or a child. Those are things for an incredibly far future, but the thought of possibly dying and not ever having it saddens him.

As for his gambling, as predictable as it is... You're his lucky charm!!!!!! But also his self-control. You pull him out of it when he starts betting a little TOO much, and you switch his drink with water when he starts getting too drunk too. You manage him without suffocating or restricting him, he'd appreciate it.

If you ever visit him during work hours at the IPC, he'd be the happiest. Just an IPC secretary coming to tell him he has a visitor who claims to be his partner and he's almost flying out of his chair like "let them in let them in!!!". Poor anyone around, because you will not be spared from Aventurine's kisses. He doesn't care who's there. In fact, if Topaz or Dr. Ratio are there, it's even better. He'd like to silently rub it in. And If you made him lunch and had come to drop it off???? He may actually just ask to marry you,, being taken care of is something he loves. Something he could get used to.

His job requires things to get dirty often. He's told you the details but you still stay. He sometimes wonders if you'll eventually snap out of this daze and realize what you've gotten yourself into. See his true colors and hate him and leave him. He thinks the day he came back home covered in blood that wasn't his own would be the final straw. But it somehow wasn't. He came fully expecting you to scream, yell, get angry, get upset, break up with him and leave. But you didn't. You just gave him a sympathetic look before dragging him to the bathroom. You tended to any injury with love, took his clothes off with care. Put what can be washed in the washing machine and threw what couldn't be to the side. Got him in the shower and helped clean him up. Dried his hair afterwards and got him in bed. Told him he should rest, he must be tired. Why do you still love him?? He's no good. He took someone's life today and you're worried about whether or not he's tired??? He won't ever understand what you see in him. But he's so grateful, he'd want to keep repaying you for your love.

And his birthdays.... If you throw him a surprise party, he'll cry. For sure. Does this guy look like anybody remembers or celebrates his birthday? He probably spends them getting wasted in some bar after blowing a couple of millions on a gambling table. A cake, decorations, gifts... You'd make that day special. Like a birthday should be.

He'd feel more and more like a human with you. Not like an object that can be used and discarded when no longer useful. A person. With feelings.

He'd get jealous. Cry in your arms. Say "tell me I'm yours". Begging for reassurance.

"You don't belong to anyone. I love you" you'd answer. And he'd break.

He doesn't know what it's like to not be owned. A slave. He doesn't know what it's like to be loved. Unconditionally.

He thinks you deserve better. But he can't let anyone else have you. So he becomes better.

Sorry this is soooo incredibly long and self-indulgent but I've been so obsessed for MONTHS this is so much pent up thoughts.... I'm so Normal about him <3

Yes you may absolutely interest me in a healthy relationship with Aventurine and I think every Aventurine fan needs to read this immediately-

The part about him coming home after a ‘work related incident’ had me SCREAMING oh my gosh

Like yeah coming to terms with the fact that Aventurine hurts people would be REALLY hard but you love him enough to trust him???

He definitely strikes me as the type who literally cannot imagine receiving anything without giving so to have someone just openly show him so much kindness without expecting something in return is literally shaking his world??

And yes physical touch Aventurine is so real- I have another ask proposing touch-starved Aventurine and that. Yeah that makes sense. Him counteracting that by being So physically affectionate just makes sense to me haha. He’s very in denial that he’s touch-starved haha…

Thank you for the food, I ENJOYED IT A LOT💕💕

Kat

STILL WITH HEARTS BEATING

alhaitham x reader ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, insecurity issues, fear of vulnerability, hurt/comfort, selfship coded a/n: a vent drabble, so everything is super self indulgent + based on me lol

“tell me atlas. what is heavier: the world or its people’s hearts?” — darshana suresh

although he prefers to keep his nose buried in a book, alhaitham is still as perceptive as ever, taking note of all the minuscule changes in your demeanor, even whilst you don a mask to stifle your woes.

he sees it first in the wistful sighs scattered amongst your too calm breaths, in your crafted smile, too practiced to be natural, and the strained words that fall too heavily out your lips, each in a race to prove that everything is normal and fine—that any anomalous behavior might only be the ramifications of an exhausting day.

your name rolls so naturally off his tongue, as he reaches out to you, catching your wrist before you can disappear into the bedroom and sleep away your swallowed emotions.

“are you alright?”

he asks out of courtesy, but to him, the signs are clear as day: the sharp inhale and slow exhale as you rally to fabricate another facade, chin tilted just a smidge too high as you turn to face him, dull eyes glistening with the remnants of unshed tears, forced to retreat by the winged flutter of your lashes.

to him, the signs are clear as day that you are not, that you are only putting on a brave face, something which he finds odd within the threshold of your shared home.

“just tired is all,” you reply, speaking in half truths. after all, it's exhausting trying to keep up appearances when all you wish to do, is to curl into yourself and rot into your bed.

you flash him a quick smile, small and devoid of warmth; a lame imposter to the very one he’s grown so terribly fond of.

he repeats your name, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern at your empty words. filled with even emptier spirit, he notes.

nonchalant, rehearsed, refined—and yet, he can hear the melancholia that spills into your tone. see the downward twitch of your lead-laden lips and the watery shift of your eyes as you avert your gaze in self-consciousness.

“you don’t have to hide from me,” he murmurs, and you want to believe him, want to believe that you’re brave enough to lay down your defenses, that you can trust him to hold your porcelain heart in his hands without threat of endangerment.

you open your mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out as the words turn to bile in your throat. to swallow the bitter liquid, or to spit your heart out and lay it bare for him to see. for alhaitham, who is more than just an akademiya giant, but a cornerstone of sumeru itself: brilliant and brave, kind in spite of his unconventional displays. the sun who shines by the heat of his own radiance.

his moon, he calls you. and yet the moon does not glow; the moon whose only light is a reflection of the sun.

you purse your lips, internally willing yourself to believe that these tears will not spill. it'd be egregious—like coughing up blood when you too have a reputation to uphold, a certain presence to be perceived. for even the moon, who shines by grace of borrowed light, is steadfast in its quiet elegance.

“it’s fine,” you insist, “really.” it’s heavy under the weight of your pride, but at least your heart is safe here in your chest, isolated and tucked away.

you push until he relents, relaxing his grip around your wrist. good, you think, he's given up. but then why does it so painfully squeeze your heart in a way you cannot convey—like a hair-lined fracture upon your brittle bones.

but alhaitham is no fool; he intends to prove he’d catch you before you can shatter, freeing your wrist, only so that he might pull you into his arms instead. there is no shortage to the vast infinity of words he can say, but matters of the heart have never been his forte… and so he hopes that his actions might speak more profoundly than his words.

the sudden impact blows your eyes wide with surprise, tears already threatening to spill from the solace of just his embrace. there are no sounds other than his steady heart and even breaths, no scent besides the faded woody fragrance of his cologne. it's safe here, cocooned in his arms, and you think that for a moment, perhaps everything is and will be fine.

you relax against him, basking in his warmth, as you rest into the crook of his neck, absentmindedly staring at the patterns on the floor.

“you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, “but please don’t hide from me.”

your hands, pressed flush against his chest, curl into themselves, relieved that he cannot see the tears welling in your eyes. he does, however, feel that first crystalline droplet that slides freely down your cheeks, melting into the fabric of his clothes as more follow. alhaitham runs his fingers through your hair, while his other hand hugs you by the small of your back, holding you ever closer. the occasional sob racks your body, silent and reluctant, but it’s a start.

a heart is a complex web of earnest emotions, floridly woven into secrets he cannot fault you for keeping locked away in a vault. perhaps one day, you’d rely on him, let him in to share the burden. and if he should be so lucky, perhaps you'd deem him worthy to be your home, so that you might rest with him, without armor. as for now, he’ll gladly cushion your fall, give you a soft place to land.

in the night’s dark embrace, the moon’s milky light paints patterns through the stained glass window of your bedroom, and behind you, your lover’s arms stay wrapped around your waist, holding you close beneath the blankets.

“… alhaitham?” your voice is delicate, spun from silk amidst the quiet of the night.

“hmm?” he peaks an eye open at the unfamiliar use of his full name.

“if I ask you something, do you promise to answer honestly?”

“I don’t see any reason not to.” The low vibrations of his tone tickles your skin as he replies with a kiss to your shoulder.

“am I…,” you hesitate, voice wavering as you contemplate whether words whispered into the wind might write itself into stone. “am i… enough for you?”

the seconds seem to stand still, as if all the world and even the sky itself, were holding its breath in bated anticipation.

finally, a creak cuts through the silence as the bed shifts alongside alhaitham, who now hovers over you, his body and arms trapping you in between. the intensity of his gaze prompts you to look away, but he reaches for your chin, holding you gently so that you have nowhere to look, save for his technicolored eyes.

enough for him? is that what you were upset about? what a shame, he thinks.

“If you could only see what I see,” he murmurs, with a kiss to your forehead. his moon, his stars, his entire night sky, who guides him in the dark.

“intelligent, intuitive, independent,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and down your neck in between each word. “outspoken and fiercely strong. beautiful, capable of anything…”

alhaitham glances up, only satisfied once the insecurity is dispelled from your features, replaced by an absolute reassurance.

"… which I knew from the moment you made me fall completely in love with you."

he peppers your face with little kisses, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, almost embarrassed. “haitham…”

alhaitham pauses at your first genuine smile of the night. “I mean every word. you’re more than enough, just as you are. and no one can should be able to take that away from you, so…”

he rolls back into bed, pulling you with him as he goes, so that you might drift to sleep with your head rested atop his chest, listening to the steady tune of his heart, as it sings to you in your dreams.

a/n2: this was actually vry therapeutic but i did not intend for it to get this long, and so i m a bit embarrassed (don’t perceive) however if u have made it this far, as always, thank u for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

Working late

Bonus:

— just thought about sharing these here because why not? I'm not TikTok famous so maybe it could blow up here right.

— GRADUATION | c.ai // polyspeak.ai

— RIVALRY TO LOVE | c.ai // polyspeak.ai

— EX-FRIEND | c.ai // polyspeak.ai

—

11:33 p.m

—

You found him curled up in bed, unmoving for quite some time.

He arrived home, but said nothing. He shuffled out of uniform, carelessly abandoning piece by piece of his gear on various surfaces, carelessly draping his jacket over the closest chair.

He had enough mind to at least settle his utility belt and weapons on the desk in your shared bedroom before shuffling to bed, climbing into the mattress with so much as a slow, heavy exhale.

You had witnessed this since the moment he came home, feeling the tension shroud your shoulders before he even as entered through the door. Along with his angry episodes, which he kept out of your way around ninety percent of the time, every once in a while, you’d be witness to a violent slip up.

You followed behind the giant man like a scared puppy, stopping at the bedroom doorway just in time for him to turn on his side, his back now facing you.

He hasn’t moved for a fair hour, rendering you nervous rather than relieved he wasn’t angry. An hour full of checking up on him, wondering if he was ready to eat or talk. Anything.

He said nothing, as per usual, but answered your concerned question via raising his arm out, extending his hand out with an open palm. Would you like me to stay with you?

You settle your arms around him from behind as best you could once you slip into bed, enjoying the warmth that radiated off his back when you held him.

Just like before, Jason said nothing, broad shoulders rising and falling as his heavy lidded gaze nearly caged his eyes behind long lashes, vision long since unfocused after hours of reckless thoughts and dangerous intentions he’s always battled with after patrol.

His eyes close fully, a short, defeated exhale leaving his nose. Still, he doesn’t move, not even when he feels your soft, small hands cradle along his sides, caressing him in a largely limited embrace.

You’re always worried when he gets like this, but your options in soothing his pain were limited.

Your vigilante, your hero, your Red Hood, who refused to acknowledge your presence. Never intentionally.

You wanted nothing more than the man who stole your heart and gave it back but promised to hold it.

Jason Todd; your boyfriend, your big, red cuddly bear, your gentle giant sweetheart.

You wanted to be a strong shoulder for him to cry on, but in this case, you blamed your tensed up morning shortly followed by a series of severely unlucky events.

A short tremor of his shoulders caught you by surprise, making your head raise in question after settling behind Jason for nearly eight minutes. After a moment of waiting, to your dismay, you hear a small shudder from the exhausted man you held in your arms.

It broke your heart once you pinpointed those signs all together, realizing what Jason had been doing this entire time since he arrived home.

A ball of tension grew hotter in your throat, your eyes flushed so full with tears.

His teary, glistening eyes opened upon hearing your tiny hiccup, his head shifting up from its concave perch along your pillow to meet your gaze. His own heart ripped into two at the pitiful little attempt to stop yourself from crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, small fingers involuntarily clasping along the hem of his grey shirt for a second or two.

When Jason approached the border of tears, his mouth didn’t curl with a strong lip quiver. Instead, his brows furrowed, his eyes nearly squinting in a pitiful attempt to make the tears halt and retreat.

All will to fight left him once he got home, himself included.

Now, all that flooded his heart was an overwhelming, bitter guilt, forcing him out of his melancholy to register the woman who’s bed he laid on for nearly two hours.

He shifts completely, encasing you in his warm, heavy arms, stroking back wisps of stray hair to peer down at you with worried, furrowed expression.

Were you scared? Were you scared of him getting angry and violent? Images of your terrified face after such an episode were burned into his mind, and a face full of tears was at the top of that crude list.

“No, no,” Jason insists as he puts up a battle once more, fighting back what tears he could. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t.. I— Shit, I didn’t mean to—“

His voice fails, his tone trembling in seconds. His own attempt at rebuilding his crumbled walls failed, leaving cascades of fluttery dust over piles of pebbles.

“M’sorry,” Jason mutters to you, sniffling noses brushing against each other. “Didn’t mean to make you sad. Don’t.. Don’t cry, babygirl. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” your whimpering tone persists, feeling his fingers cradle the back of your head, smoothing down your hair while yours cling to his shirt collar, insisting that you could handle his pain, shoulder it with him.

His mood swings were never his fault. His death was never his fault. His moments where he shut down entirely, leaving you completely powerless to aid him from the shadows, any of it, all of it, wasn’t his pain to shoulder in general.

You wished you could take it all away, but you believed you could only do so much.

“I don’t know how to help you,” you tremble as you admit to him, watching his brows curl downwards in further distress to your confession, your eyes glassy with grief bordering on defeat.

“I want to help you, Jason. I do. Please, tell me how.”

You only knew what he shared with you in the past, so you understood enough. His complications with himself, the curse of hyper individualism rendering him towards a plethora of self doubt, no matter how much he wanted to defy it. He just didn’t know how.

You wanted to be strong for him, but feared you weren’t as tough as you wanted to be.

Jason didn’t want strong, even though he knew you were. he wanted permanence, superglued stability on both of your behalf.

His hand cradled your head against his shoulder, taking in the sweetness of your hair, the warmth of your body dressed in one of his loose fitting shirts, curtesy of you stealing his clothes every evening.

The echo of your heartbeat keeping you alive long enough for you to adore him, to cherish him, to love him like no other he had ever felt before. This returns him towards his quiet tears, but unlike before, he allows himself the freedom to express himself more.

Grief included.

“You just being here… helps, okay?” Jason whispers, cradling your face in his warm palm. “That’s it. That’s all you need to do. Just… don’t leave. Please.”

Please, don’t leave me alone.

Your fingers instantly trail up towards his cheeks, catching his tears in the cradle of your palms. For a moment, your guilty, defeated expression shifted towards one he recognized instantly.

Strong, filled with a temporary determination he recognized many times before when you refused to give up. You refused to give him up.

Those were the eyes he fell in love with, belonging to the woman who desired to help him. His sore heart ached at your persistence, craving that just as much as your eagerly awaiting love.

His shoulders shake, his breathing grows raggedy, shortly cut and uneven. A few of his tears caught along the strands of your hair, the rest seeping down onto the very same pillowcase that harbored most of tonight’s anger and frustration.

His head settled against your chest, relying on your strong heartbeat to keep him submerged in pure sleep. His heavily scarred hands remained stagnant around your waist, thumbs lightly swirling along bare skin while yours settled to comb through his inky, tussled locks.

For the next hour or so, you held one another, cradling each other as the tears long since run dry, leaving two tender bodies submerged in a thin veil of slumber.

Crying together was the last thing on both of your minds tonight, but it’s the most Jason had ever felt accidentally understood, especially now as he refuses to let go of his anchor.

Seen, heard, recognized, loved.

Alive.

I'm BEGGING for a continuation of the drabble where Reader breaks up with Jason

Thinking of him injured and alone after almost dying is killing me 😭

this got more serious than i intended lol but i hope you like it anon! finally there is resolution!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw jason almost dies, hints of self destructive behavior, guilt, communication (i am forcing the batboys to be good communicators!!!), injured jason, dick being the bestest goodest big brother.

pt 2 to this

****

It's extremely stupid for you to be out this late, but if you hadn't left tonight, you'd probably never leave. And you needed to leave. You can't sustain whatever you and Jason had.

Asking him to quit would've been unfair, and you know he won't do it. This city pulls him back in every time.

"Where ya headed?" the cab driver asks. He doesn't look too shady. He'll definitely overcharge you, but at this point, you don't care. You just want to go home.

"Gotham Heights." You don't give him the exact address, but someplace close enough.

It's begun to rain. You try not to think about how you just left Jason. You turned off your phone as soon as you closed the door; you know he's probably calling like crazy, but as soon as you answer, you'll go back.

And you can't.

You blink back tears. You can't keep watching him throw himself into worse and worse danger. Jason fights crime like he'd sooner let it kill him. One day, it will.

The car pulls up to a stoplight. You're dozing; it's nearly eleven o'clock after all.

Suddenly, something lands on the hood. You jump, heart dropping.

"What the fuck?!" the driver squawks.

Nightwing perches on the hood of the cab. He lightly taps the windshield.

"Evening. Mind pulling over?" he asks pleasantly. "I'm actually their designated driver tonight."

"Nightwing!" you snap, hot with anger. "Get off the car!"

"You shut off your phone and left," Dick says, those white lenses zeroed in on you. His tone is cutting. "He's losing his mind. You know we don't go dark."

You close your eyes briefly. "We almost lost him, 'Wing," you croak.

"So your instinct was to leave?"

"Alright, that's it! Get outta the car," the driver says, unlocking the doors. "Fuckin' crazies..."

Dick opens the door for you and tosses a roll of twenties on the seat. The cab speeds off. You wrap your arms around yourself as he guides you to the sidewalk.

Several emotions cross Dick's face, before he lands on one. Sympathy.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

Your face crumples. "He died, Dick."

"I know," he says, holding your elbow. "I was scared too. But he's okay. He's the toughest guy I know."

"How am I supposed to keep him alive?" you ask desperately. "I can't."

Dick frowns. "That's not your job. I wouldn't expect that of you, and I know Jason doesn't either. None of us do."

You press your palms to your eyes and start to cry for real.

"I just want him to be okay. Every time he goes out, I think it'll be the last time I see him. I love him too much to lose him, Dick."

Dick hums. "Have you told him this?"

You shrug, wiping your eyes with your hand. "Some of it. I-" You wince. "I yelled before I left. He was being so nonchalant about it, and I know it was so I wouldn't worry, but..."

"I know. He can be a real pinhead about some things, but Jason's on it when it counts. He loves you a lot, and I think he'd want to know you're feeling this way."

You rub your eyes so hard you see shapes. "I don't know, Dick. I don't know if I can tonight."

Dick sighs sadly. "Alright. Look, I'll take you home. But can you at least tell him you're okay? He called me up, terrified. Said he dreamt you were in an accident."

Nightmares. The guilt triples.

You turn on your phone. Ten missed calls and fifteen unread texts pop up.

[10:38pm] Baby please come back

At least text me you're okay

I messed up, and you can leave, but at least tell me you're safe

[10:42pm] I'm calling Dick

Sweetheart don't get into a car

[10:43pm] Please don't I have a bad feeling about it

Call me please

You sniffle and tap on Jason's contact. The phone rings once before he picks up.

"Baby? Hi, hi. God, fuck. Are you okay? Is Dick there?"

Jason sounds wrecked. His voice is raw like he's been crying. Tears start to build up in your own eyes.

"H-hey, Jay. Yeah, I'm okay. Dick is here."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have scared you. Shouldn't have been reckless. I won't do that again. I won't patrol alone anymore. I'll-I'll work with Batman again. I called him just now. Told him I'd be at the Cave next week."

"Jay, don't force yourself to work with Batman for me," you say, your stomach a pit. "I don't want you to do something that'll make you miserable."

It's been better, lately, Jason's relationship with his family. It's not perfect, but then again, you wouldn't expect a family that dresses up in Halloween costumes every night to fight crime to be perfect.

"It won't!" Jason says. "Look, B and I have our differences. That's for damn sure. But I'm not so mad about it these days. And I should be safer. You were right. I want to come home to you, sweetheart, I do. If that means working in a team, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever will make us both happy and safe."

You squeeze your eyes shut. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner, Jay. I should've been."

"Oh." Jason sounds heartbroken. You can imagine him running a rough hand through his hair right now, tearing through the strands. "No, no, no. Baby, my love, listen. I don't blame you for any of this. That's not your responsibility. It's my job to keep myself alive. And Leslie's, once in a while. But I don't expect that from you. Never from you."

It's quiet for several moments. Then Jason speaks again, tone timid.

"Have I... did I make you feel that way?"

"No, you didn't," you say, opening your eyes. "Not directly. But... I don't know, Jay, I've just felt like there's nothing holding you back some days. You fight like you're fighting something inside of you." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I don't want it to burn you out for good."

Not again, you don't say.

Dick bows his head, and suddenly, you're there, watching them lower Jason Todd's body into the ground.

"I won't let it," Jason whispers. "I won't. I'm sorry I did this to you. Made you feel like this. I only ever wanna be good for you. I'm-I'm trying to be good."

Your lip trembles. "I wanna come home, Jay."

Jason makes a desperate sound, like a wounded animal. "Please come home, baby. I don't want you to leave. Wanna hold you so bad."

"Okay." You nod at the phone and look at Dick. "Can you take me home?"

He smiles, small and hopeful. "Of course."

****

Jason nearly tears the door off of its hinges before you can knock. He's probably been listening for your footsteps all evening. Your throat tightens.

"Hi, baby, hi, hi," Jason says, bracing himself against the doorframe as he pulls you into a hug. "Missed you so much. Love you so much. I'll be better, it'll be better. I promise."

You kiss his shoulder and bury your face in his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat. A-live, a-live, a-live, it says.

"Thanks, Dickie," Jason murmurs into your skin.

"Sure thing, Little Wing," Dick says, and you think he might sound a little misty-eyed. Sentimental sap.

"Thanks, D," you say softly, and Dick squeezes your shoulder.

"Get some sleep, both of you."

"You first," Jason says, and Dick laughs on his way out.

You help Jason inside, tucked under his arm, and this time, he lets you guide him to the bed. He allows you removal of your shoes and jeans before tugging you in with him.

"I'll be better," he vows, and rolls you over so you're face-to-face. "I promise."

"I believe you," you say, thumb brushing over his salt-streaked cheek. "I'm sorry I went dark, sweetie."

He shakes his head. "'S okay. Well, I mean, it's not, but I understand. I just want you safe. And here. But only if you wanna be here. I won't force you."

"Of course I want to be here, Jay," you say, kissing his cheek. "There's no place I'd rather be. I just... I want us to live."

Jason swallows and nods.

"I'll live. I will. For both of us."

how about Jason with the prompt "text me when you get home"? the one time they forget/fall asleep before sending the text and Jay loses hid mind. rushes over expecting them to be dead but they passed out on the couch as soon as they got home

really superbly SCRUMPTIOUS prompt Aud. I love protective jaybird 🥰‼️ thanks for sending something in 🫶

jason todd x gn!reader. worried protective snuggly jason. no warnings really, ya boy is just paranoid and madly in love with you 💓

request something! I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

As soon as you get out of your last class of the day, your phone rings.

You answer it, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fish in your bag for a couple of bills. You're already walking to the train station.

"Hi, snookie bear," you say into the phone, slightly delirious with hunger and sleep deprivation.

Jason snorts on the other end. "That's a new one. Hey, baby. Y'heading home?"

"Indeed I am."

"Need a ride?"

You wait and listen. Eventually, you hear the sounds of hitting and grunting in the background. You roll your eyes—only Jason would be in the middle of a fight and then ask if you need a ride home.

"No, I'm okay. It's not dark yet. Plus you sound busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," he says immediately. "And it's gonna get dark in an hour. Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jay," you say gently. "I'm sure. Don't worry about me. I'm going straight home."

You're already at the station. There's a good amount of people, students and workers alike. The university is in a relatively okay part of town, especially during the day. You're not worried. It's not like you traipse through Crime Alley on your downtime.

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath. "Just—just be careful. Text me when you get home."

You note the hint of worry in his tone. Maybe this week has been particularly saturated with crime. Jason tends to get a little overbearing about your safety when he's had a tough week. You know he had go down to Blüdhaven and help his brother—with what specifically, you don't know.

Most of the time, you're sure you don't want to know.

"I always do," you say. The train pulls up to the station. "Ooh, train's here! I'll talk to you later. I'm thinking of ordering takeout. Too tired to cook."

"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. Love you. Lock your door."

You roll your eyes fondly. "Yes, Jay. Love you too. Bye."

You hang up as you step onto the train. You pull your headphones out of your bag and shut your brain off during the ride. By the time you get off the train, you've lost hope that you'll be doing any work tonight. You're absolutely wiped out after three back-to-back classes.

It's still light when you get home. You lock the door after you get in, the habit ingrained into you, and dump your bag onto the couch.

Takeout is a no-go. You're hungry now and about thirty seconds away from passing out on the couch.

You change into your home clothes, eat a granola bar, and call it a day. You'll eat more later.

You turn off your phone to bar any annoying notifications and fall into bed, eyes closing immediately.

****

The sound of your deadbolt being teared off its chain wakes you up. You flinch and jump awake, trying to blink through sleep. Your mouth is dry from how hard you slept, and your eyesight is slightly blurry from the sudden flood of moisture.

Your bedroom door swings open, and suddenly you're pulled into warm, heavily muscled arms. You hug back on instinct; you'd know the feel of your boyfriend anywhere.

"Jay, h—"

"You didn't text," he says, voice shaking. "You said you would. I was—I thought you were—"

You tense, guilt knocking into you.

"Shit. Jason, I'm so sorry. I meant to, I was just so tired..."

Jason pulls back to look at you, hands still on your shoulders. His expression is stern.

"I'm gonna pick you up from now on. When are your late days?"

"Jay, no, GCU is across town. You can't possibly pick me up three days a week. That's too much! What about patrol?"

"Somebody else is out at this time," he says stonily. "Crime Alley can wait an hour while I get you home."

His eyes blaze green, a side effect of the Pit. You can tell he's putting every effort into keeping a lid on the worry and fear and anger over your silence.

"Jason." You cup his face. "Honey, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't text you. I'm sorry I worried you. But your adrenaline is spiked right now, Jay. Everything feels magnified. I don't need to be picked up. I was perfectly safe coming home. Okay?"

He shakes his head, holding your wrists. "Anything could've happened. I was so—fuck, baby, I was so scared. I-I checked the station footage and the traffic cams, and I didn't see you after you cut through the park, and I thought—I was sure you'd—"

Jason pulls your arms around his neck and buries his face into your shoulder. He supports you by the backs of your thighs, tugging you into his lap. Then he clings tight.

"Oh, Jay," you murmur, petting his curls. "I'm alright. This end of Gotham isn't so bad. And I know you'd have found me even if something had happened. But nothing did."

"Can't lose you," he chokes out.

"You won't lose me, honey," you say. "You keep me safe."

He trembles in your embrace. You kiss the shell of his ear and continue to pet his hair.

"Let me pick you up tomorrow, at least," he pleads. "We'll get dumplings at that place you like. You barely ate anything when you came home."

"Okay, Jay," you say, because you know he needs that reassurance. He won't relax without it. "That sounds good."

You keep stroking his hair. "Y'wanna order in now?"

"In a minute."

Jason lays you both down on the bed. He throws a leg over yours and pulls you into his chest. It's now that you see just how much tension is locked in his shoulders. He's exhausted.

"Jus' wanna hold you for a bit," he says, lips resting on your shoulder.

He's drowsy, the adrenaline finally ebbing. You close your eyes and snuggle into his arms.

"You can hold me for as long as you want," you say, threading your fingers with his. "I'm not going anywhere."

Learning to Love Slowly Chapters

AO3

Summary; Just you and Jason learning to love each other, and the small moments in-between.

Chapters

1- Pride and Prejudice and Hair 2-Seven-Eleven Karens and Pinky Promises at 3 AM 3-Google and Hand Holding 4-Cookies and The Butler and The Girlfriend 5- Push-ups and Hoodies 6- Slushies and Happiness and Pizza 7-Book Recommendations and Jane Austen 8-Gotham Mornings and Daydreaming 9-Text Messages and Older Brothers 10-Cookies and Folded Clothes 11- Seven Days and Movies 12-Fate and Ass Grabbing 13-Time and Love and Flowers 14-Mistakes and the Illustrious Mister Pennyworth 15-Death and Scars 16-Kisses and Long Showers 17-Robberies and Grandmas 18-Honeybee Girl and Nightwing 19-Just the Two of Us and a Kiss 20-Thunder Storms and Cold Hands 21-Baths and Bruises 22-Birthdays and Selfishness 23-Dad and Long Lost Smiles 24- Dresses and The Strongest Man in Gotham 25- Jason's Girlfriend and The Dark Knight 26-Touching and Hair 27-Sherlock Holmes and Reading Habits 28-Wet Dreams and The Real Jason Todd 29-Pickles and Thick Thighs 30-Roy Harper and Windows 31-Jaybeans and Big Macs 32- Spiders and Vigilantes 33- Lingerie and Halloween 34- Deep Breaths and Brownies 35-Loofas and Killer Croc 36-Thanksgiving and Shut Up Tim 37- Charles Dickens and Approved Transactions 38-Thick Thigh King and Leather Jackets 39-Blankets and Okays 40-Batcaves and Dead Robins 41-Wrapping Willies and Getting Silly 42-Ice Cream and Little Brothers 43-Corvettes and the Iceberg Lounge 44-Emotional Maturity and Weird Men 45-Phone Calls and Roses 46-Your World and His 47-I'm Yours and Hickeys 48-Jane Austen, Alexandre Dumas, and Hentai 49-Stake-Outs and Civilian Partners 50-Strip Clubs and Cuddles at 3 AM 51-The Little Things and Bernard 52-Midnight Calls and Fantasies 53- Fire and Frustration 54- Positions and Pillow Talk 55- Circus Acts and Stitches 56- Right Spots and Peace 57- Mr. Wayne and His Sons 58- Masks and Confessions

Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗

I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗

aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!

this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:

****

"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"

Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."

The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."

"Bats."

Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.

"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.

"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."

"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"

"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"

"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.

Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.

He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.

"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."

The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.

"Fiancé?!"

"You're getting married—"

"When was this—"

"Who are—"

"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."

"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."

"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"

"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...

Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.

"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."

Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.

"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"

"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"

"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."

****

Your head is on fire.

It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.

You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.

Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.

Yeah. This is not good.

"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.

"Mike, we sent—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.

Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.

"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."

A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.

"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"

You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.

Mike sneers and waves the gun around.

"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."

"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"

Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."

You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.

Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.

"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.

He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.

You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.

"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"

"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.

You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—

Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.

"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."

"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"

"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."

You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—

The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.

"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.

"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."

"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"

The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.

"No!"

But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.

You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!

"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."

You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.

"B-bomb!"

His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"

The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.

"Let go," he says.

"Wh—"

"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."

And then he lets go.

Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.

Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.

"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."

Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.

You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.

You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.

"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."

Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.

The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.

You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.

"You saved me," you say.

"I always will," he says. "Always."

"Are either of you injured?"

Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.

"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."

Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."

Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."

"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.

Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.

"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.

"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."

He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.

You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.

Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.

Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."

You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.

Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."

Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.

"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"

"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.

Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.

"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."

He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."

"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Little Wing, c'mere!"

Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.

"Now that's adorable," she says.

Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.

"Thank you," he says.

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"For bringing him back to us."

You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"

"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

57-Mr. Wayne and His Sons

You and Mr. Wayne looked up from your respective books at the sound of yelling, sharing a glance before looking at the library doors.

“You son of a bitch! You tell her, and I’ll kill you.” That was Jason’s voice clear as day, you’d know it anywhere, and it was coming closer. Within seconds, the doors to the library burst open and Dick strode through ready to say something. Before he could even get a breath of air out Jason was on Dick from behind tackling him to the ground. 

“I told you to shut up,” Jason said, putting Dick in a not-too-tight choke hold. 

He reached up to pull his brother’s hair in response, yelling out, “I have to show you what Jason has on his phone—!” Suddenly, Dick was calling his younger brother every name in the book as he had taken a hefty bite of his arm. 

Book forgotten, you propped yourself against the arm of the couch, looking down at the two scuffling around with a grin on your face. Bruce was already getting up with a loud, tired groan that would be heard from any worn-out father to head over to his sons. They didn’t stop their fight upon his approach, still yelling incoherently while pinching and pulling at each other. 

“You’re adopted,” Dick yelled. 

Jason scoffed, “We’re both adopted, you dickhead!”

Bruce bent down and pinched their ears, halting any motion from them. Giggling, you watched as Mr. Wayne pulled them up to their feet, scolding them like Alfred would. Both declared the other of starting it. 

“He’s—he’s mean, Dad,” Dick declared, pointing at Jason. 

Jay scoffed, “What are you, asshole, five?” 

Bruce let them go, eyes narrowing, “What’s this about—”

“Jason has a—” Before he could answer, Dick was having a hand smacked against his mouth. 

“Dad,” Jason said, looking at Bruce. The way his face turned to surprise for a split second, he hadn’t meant for that to come out. “He’s trying to share my personal shit.” 

Bruce hushed Dick before he could say anything in his defense, reprimanding him for invading his brother’s personal space and trying to embarrass him in front of you. His eldest was already defending his actions like he was nine again, pleading with him that it wasn’t that serious of a secret. 

“Didn’t think invading person space really applied to you since you have tracking devices on nearly all of us,” Dick snapped.

You quietly asked, “Does that include me?”

“Probably.” 

“No!”

“You better not be tracking my fucking girlfriend.”

Bruce was quick to explain that tracking his children during patrol was very different and that he would never go as far as to track them outside of the mask. Not anymore, anyway. Jason rebuffed the comment by saying that was far from the paranoid father he knew. 

You interrupted before it could turn into an even bigger fight, “We’re getting off-topic, what is it that you don’t want to be shared with me?” 

Jason sheepishly moved from Bruce over to you, taking out his phone to show you while he whispered in your ear. Your face turned red as you looked away, flustered. 

“Yeah, we’ll talk about that later.” You said. 

Bruce admired how the two of you looked like two kids so in love, while Dick groaned. You excused yourself and Jason so you could take about exactly how this came about.

Once the library doors closed, the scolding that Bruce gave Dick could be heard from down the hall. Still, it was nothing compared to Alfred's. 

—DOUBT [ alhaitham x reader ]

doubt— what a confusing emotion.

alhaitham x f!reader | wc: 1.8k+

warnings: angsty on alhaitham’s end but overall pretty fluffy, idk what part of my brain this came from, part of a series but can be read as a standalone!

Alhaitham very rarely feels unsure of himself.

With everything he does, he calculates it carefully, weighing the pros and cons, contemplating if the risk is worth it, and finding which action is the most appropriate— he’s consistent with the way he acts and is confident with the measures he takes. All he needs is his brain; if he can logically use the process of elimination, he can logically assess the best course of action for any situation.

Except for when it comes to you.

He walks back from his washroom to the main dining area, only to find you chatting up a storm with Kaveh; you had offered to walk him home from work since the two of you had gotten off at the same time, and he excused himself to freshen up— he assumes that Kaveh got home from his workout just in time to find you at the table.

“Haitham,” You beam at him, waving at him to come over, and he can physically feel his heart soften, “You didn’t tell me that Kaveh was your roommate!”

“It’s not really something I like to tell people.” He mutters, and Kaveh shoots him an offended look before turning back to smile at you. From his angle, he looks like a two-faced weasel. Alhaitham sits down at the table, making a point to sit next to you instead of his roomate.

“He acts like I wanted to be seen here either,” Kaveh grumbles without malice, “Should've told me he had someone over!”

“Kaveh was just telling me about his studies around Gurabad’s Ruin,” you grin at the man sitting next to you, “Kshahrewar sounds so different from Haravatat.”

“In a bad way, I assume.”

“You’re just pissed that Haravatat is just as boring as you are,” Kaveh glares at him, and his eyes flit to you, “Y’know, it’s never too late to switch Darshans! You’d fit right in.”

“I think I’d rather die than go back to study at the Academy,” You raise your hands in innocence, a nervous chuckle playing on your face, “I did my due time.”

“You’re always welcome to join me!” Alhaitham clenches his hand, he swears Kaveh side-eyes him with a smirk on his face and he feels something bubble inside his chest, the bastard is doing this on purpose— “There are tons of runes down there, you’d love it!”

“I would love to, but Gurabad’s Ruin is way too far away,” You shudder, your legs ache just thinking about it, “The trek through the sand sounds like a nightmare.”

“It's also dangerous, stop being so irresponsible, Kaveh.” Alhaitham cuts in rather irritably, “Not everyone has a Vision, you have to think about the rest of society too, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your architecture projects.”

He pauses, feeling the unsettling silence befall the table. Your body is turned towards him, your eyes wide in both wonder and concern— Kaveh has the gall to laugh as if Alhaitham just said the funniest thing in the world, “Who pissed in your cereal, Haitham?” He makes sure to enunciate his name, “Didn’t know Gurabad’s Ruin was a sensitive subject, my bad.”

Alhaitham bites the inside of his cheek to not say anything he know he’ll regret with you there, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I should go,” he gets up, the chair squeaking as it scrapes against his floor before his eyes flicker to yours, “Have fun, you two.”

He storms out of his house a hurry, feeling a wave of nausea wrack through his body as he slams the door and makes his way down to the pavement that lines the exterior. His heart clenches when he pauses, turning around against his better judgement— Kaveh always complained that his choice in furniture and decor is ugly, was he right? What would you prefer? He takes a few steps back, his eyes wandering the outside of his home (Could it use flowers? The hanging ones or the ones planted in the ground?) before his front door clicks open and you rush out of his house. You squeak when you realize he's right there, slowing your velocity a little too abruptly, tripping over your robes before you steady yourself right in front of him.

“Hey,” you manage a small smile that clashes your worried expression, “What happened in there? Is everything okay?”

Alhaitham's mind hurts, the question that's been burning in his mind searing fire into his skull, he has to take a deep breath to think clearly.

“I asked you before, why do you like me?”

Your smile freezes, you never thought that question would be the one to come up.

“…Because you’re smart?” You mumble unsurely, your hand fidgeting with your robes. Just as he had asked before, you answered, hadn't you?

“So is the rest of Sumeru.”

“…You’re pretty.”

“That doesn’t really say much, does it? What, am I funny to you too? Is it just the “handsome, funny, and smart” qualities that do it for you?”

“Alhaitham.” You warn him sharply, and he flinches despite how much he wants not to.

“…I just need to know,” he closes his eyes to deal with the ache he feels in both his heart and head, “Rationally, what it is that makes you have romantic feelings for me.”

It was a thought that consumed his mind ever since he and you had gotten involved in that matter, and he feels as if it's eating him alive, tearing into his brain matter. It's not like he's wrong (he knows he's not, not when he's spent so many sleepless nights thinking about it), you really could've chosen anyone your heart desired and they'd be bound to fall for you.

You make enough money on your own (not that you'd ever be the type of person to be after his Mora), your status in the Akademiya is high enough that being in a romantic relationship with him wouldn't raise it all that much, it's not like he's an extremely kind person like Tighnari, he's not humorous like Cyno (at least Cyno tries), and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as academically gifted as Kaveh. Honestly and rationally, a small part of him thinks you'd be better off with Kaveh, he's far more outgoing than Alhaitham is, his genius is unparalleled, the two of you have been friends since you were students, you—

“Are you jealous?” Your question is blunt, and Alhaitham can't help but admire you more, even in his distressed state.

He likes this about your relationship, you rarely ever hold back what you're thinking even if it might be against your better interest— it helps him, he thinks, it helps him understand how he's feeling, it helps him understand how you're feeling, surfacing those hidden emotions and social cues he can somehow never seem to get.

“Maybe.” He admits, his eyes shifting to the concrete. He's not sure whether it's jealousy or insecurity, most likely a mix of both, but they're rather similar in his mind, meshing together into doubt.

Doubt— what a confusing emotion. It's a small seed before his mind brushes past it, and he can't help but nurture and grow it, just like all of his other thoughts. Ugly and childish emotions aren't above him, and he's only human afterall, he knows he can't be expected to not be above it despite how often he tries, and yet, it's so incredibly disappointing when he lets it slip through.

“I like you because you're Alhaitham,” you reply with the same amount of confidence you've had this entire time, which is very little, “I'm not sure what to say.”

He gets it, he really does. He likes you romantically the same way, but the difference is that you're you, and he's just him.

“...I think the thing that caught my attention was your lack of ambition.” You admit, in hopes that it'll lift his perpetually unsatisfied expression, “I like people with a lack of ambition.”

It's Alhaitham’s turn to be caught off guard now, his mind wandering to all sorts of places with the new piece of information you so kindly fed him. What did you mean by that?

“Hey, don't be so sullen,” you tease him, mimicking the words he told you a few weeks ago, “Shouldn't you just be happy that we're together like this? You don't have to be a researcher all the time, you can be human too.”

“Researchers are human.” He huffs, one hand reaching to brush his hair from his forehead.

“You sure don't act like it.”

The mood finally lightens, and you step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing him gently. He’s about as stiff as a board, and you giggle. “Hug me back, Haitham,” you lean your head on his chest, “You'll feel better, trust me.”

He gingerly follows your order, one arm wrapping around your upper back and the other near your shoulder.

"Just so you know," you close your eyes, "I'd never go for someone who insults Haravatat. In his neverending quest to piss you off, he forgot that Haravatat is my Darshan too."

"Calling me boring is fine but calling Haravatat boring isn't?"

"The difference is that you're actually boring."

He sighs while you laugh, burying your nose into his chest. The sun is low in the sky, yet, he doesn't feel cold.

“Why are you attracted to those without ambition?” He can't help but ask, it's odd, especially for someone of your stature, wouldn't you like someone that shares the same passion as you?

“Sumeru is a dangerous place.” Your voice comes out softer, and he takes into account the recent events with the Fatui— “Powerful people with that sense of ambition are what make it all that more terrifying.”

He thinks back to the betrayal that Khajeh and his actions caused to the entire Darshan of Haravatat, the shock it must’ve been to those who were unaware of the corruption of their sages, and by extension, the government that they not not only part of, but were also upholding. A part of him irrationally regrets being in the heat of the action with Azar and the Traveller instead of being with you, but he supposes the way you sink against his body means that he’s made up for it.

Touching you doesn’t send electric sparks up his spine anymore, no, it pulsates heat and warmth through his entire body, and he pulls you closer to him. His head rests on yours and he lets out a huff of contentment, closing his eyes— it feels far more intimate than anything he’s ever done before, but he feels like he’s never been uncomfortable with you— strange and foreign, maybe, but never uncomfortable.

“Kaveh is staring at us through the doorway,” he mutters lowly as a not-so-sneaky Kaveh ducks behind the frame, “Would you like to go back?”

“Kaveh will be fine,” you smile impishly, “Besides, you’re the only one who can hug me like this, wouldn’t you like to show him that? Just to put your mind to ease?”

Alhaitham doesn’t feel that doubt that plagued his mind anymore, and he feels like he’s breathing in fresh air for the first time. A smile makes it's way onto his face as he realizes that he doesn't care what Kaveh thinks anymore, that your relationship is perfectly stable, and that the front of his house is fine the way it is. He doesn’t mind letting you think the seed of doubt is still there, though, not when your body is willing to mold against him so perfectly.

“Yes, yes I would.”

“he’s breathing in fresh air for the first time” and he’s just sniffing y/n’s perfume like a mad lad 😔 reader's line about ambition is based off of heongyeon from mr. queen!

ALSO good news i just got a computer after being without one for months and i’m typing so fast so we’re def hitting that one oneshot a week goal thank god

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door. 

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column. 

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound. 

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask. 

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh. 

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt. 

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it. 

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham. 

"How'd they get you?" you ask. 

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to. 

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?" 

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference. 

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly. 

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes. 

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded. 

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away. 

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself." 

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood. 

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink. 

"Can I crash here?" 

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him. 

"What're you doing?" you ask. 

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines." 

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say. 

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again. 

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common. 

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love. 

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain. 

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say. 

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel. 

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?" 

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach. 

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask. 

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold." 

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead." 

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light. 

"You're tired of me," he says. 

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."  

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't. 

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit. 

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes. 

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly. 

"I'd be tired of me." 

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.  

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say. 

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck. 

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask. 

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise. 

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst. 

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you. 

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow. 

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city. 

"I wanna try to use the door," he says. 

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming. 

"Then I'll leave it unlocked." 

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。underneath the stars (looking for a sign)

synopsis. al-haitham thinks waking up beside you feels like a dream—well, until it doesn’t

— word count. 4.1k (how did a drabble get here sobs)

— contents. pining al-haitham, honestly it’s mutual pining lol, gn! reader, implied one night stand, consumption of alcohol (both reader and al-haitham) reader is a matra, al-haitham is acting grand sage, it’s basically the “avoid my crush after i accidentally sleep with him until he corners me” trope lol, confessions, brief angst and then a happily ever after, fluff, not proof read—this was entirely written on tumblr drafts through mobile app. yeah. we raw dogged this bad boy lmaoooo

— notes. if you knew. how many wips i have with him. you would be astounded :,) he’s all that matters anymore

al-haitham wakes up to a bed much softer than his, red flag number one. there’s also a weight on his chest, red flag number two. red flag number three, however, doesn’t make itself apparent until he opens his eyes and sees you.

oh. not good. you’re covered in the sheets, but you’re clearly…topless, and a quick glance at his own torso tells him he’s also not clothed. oh. double not good.

but there’s also a small voice in his head that’s cheering and patting himself on the shoulder—he’s managed to fall into the bed of the very person he’s been quietly pining over for months, what more can a guy possibly ask for?

but unfortunately, his mini celebration in his inner thoughts is disrupted when you open your eyes at the disturbance from his movement—and before he can get even one word in, you shriek. rather loudly, too—it makes him wince at the sound (he’s always had sensitive ears.)

“what are you doing here?” you gasp, “and why haven’t you got a shirt—wait. why haven’t i got a shirt on?”

“well, it seems—”

“you slept with me?” you gasp again, cutting him off as your face twists in disbelief, “while i was drunk?”

“i was drunk too,” he points out, frowning at the accusations. al-haitham is a respectable man, and more importantly, he cares about you too much to take advantage of your inebriated state like that. “it was a two way street.”

that seems to calm you for…approximately two seconds before your face twists in horror again.

“al-haitham,” you wail his name in despair, slumping onto your mattress in defeat, “this is the worst thing we could have done. do you realize that?”

oh. you regret this—the voice in his head suddenly stops cheering. it deflates, in fact.

worst thing. is this really the worst thing? al-haitham thinks you both have always gotten along rather well, and he’s always taken your slightly stuttered words and nervous chuckles as a testament to holding the same attraction he holds for you. but maybe he was too quick to assume you feel the same, and your words now feel like a boulder on his chest. they’re heavy. soul crushingly heavy, in fact—but he keeps the blank expression on his face ever so easily.

“yes, it seems a bit inappropriate for coworkers to have an entanglement,” he agrees after a moment, making you whine at his word choice.

“you don’t have to call it that,” you huff.

then, out of sheer curiosity (and absolutely nothing else), you take a quick peek from the corner of your eyes at his chest. in your defense, his shirt leaves practically little left to the imagination, and when else will you get the opportunity to see his (very impressive) chest? a peek won’t hurt.

you’re thoroughly impressed when your eyes catch his sculpted pecs. his eyes are thoroughly unimpressed when they catch your gaze.

“well, what would you like to do about our predicament?” he asks flatly.

acting uninterested is the hardest part, he realizes. here, you’re within reach for his arm to curl around you, and yet somehow, there still feels like there are miles of space between you in the sheets. it’s a bitter reality, he thinks, one that stings a bit more than he’s ever really imagined.

al-haitham has witnessed lots of rejections in his time. whether it’s at the akademiya where he is the unfortunate witness of a rejected confession, or in novels he reads of unrequited feelings. he however never thought he’d land himself in the same situation—even if he hasn’t technically confessed to you yet. but your reaction definitely feels like one, and he’s smart enough to deduce that if he did confess, you wouldn’t take too kindly to the idea.

sure, it’s a bit unprofessional for the acting grand sage to have a relationship with one of the akademiya’s top matra that he works with rather frequently, but al-haitham is only the temporary grand sage. technically, after this, he will be going back to being the scribe who makes himself scarce on a regular basis. and it’s not very unprofessional for the scribe and a matra to be romantically involved, he’d like to argue. most people meet their significant others through the akademiya in the first place—why should he be any different?

but one glance at your face tells him you’re rather unhappy with this situation. he thinks he can hear a crack where the boulder resides on his chest.

“i think you should leave,” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lip, “and don’t say anything about this to anyone. especially not cyno.”

“noted,” he says blandly. you turn away, letting him have the privacy to rise out of bed and dress—which he does as slowly as possible, just to drag out the feeling of being in your bedroom for just a while longer—before he says clears his throat. “i’ll be seeing you,” he says.

“sure,” you nod awkwardly, “see you at uh…see you at work.”

with that, he walks out of your bedroom, and sees himself out. as soon as you hear the front door shut, you turn and scream into your pillow—the same pillow that happened to be under al-haitham’s head for the entire night, the same pillow that smells like his shampoo.

you think for a moment how you can never wash this pillow case again—and then, when you realize just what you’ve thought, you scream again.

you might just be entirely screwed.

—————

“and where have you been?” kaveh is waiting in the kitchen as soon as al-haitham enters.

great.

kaveh has a talent for making himself available to chatter away into al-haitham’s ear on the most stressful of days. whether it’s to greet him with complaints about having no help with cleaning after a long day of work, or to bang on his office door and demand an explanation for rejected funds as he does paperwork, or to ask where he’s been after he’s been wounded rather harshly by the one person he’s ever felt romantically inclined for, kaveh is always there at the worst possible timing.

leave it to kaveh to sour his mood more.

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” al-haitham mutters, grabbing the glass of water on the table and chugging it to help with the slight hangover he nurses—it’s evidently not his best morning in more ways than one.

“hey, that’s my glass,” kaveh scolds, “get your own.”

“it’s actually my glass. from my grandmothers set,” al-haitham corrects his roommate, “and i pay the water bills. so it’s my water too.”

“you—” kaveh shakes with frustration. it would pull a bit of an amused grin on al-hairham’s face if he wasn’t in the worst mood possible. “nevermind,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “where were you—wait, is that a hickey?”

“no,” al-haitham says instantly, pulling his cloak higher to cover his neck—but kaveh beats him to it, reaching over and inspecting his skin. he seems to light up as soon as he realizes it is, in fact, a hickey on al-haitham’s neck.

“it is a hickey,” he grins gleefully, gasping in sheer disbelief that al-haitham seems to have some sort of life outside of work and home, “this can’t be. did you pay someone to get into bed with you—”

“just because some of us can afford such services doesn’t mean we indulge in them,” al-haitham grumbles, which earns an offended gasp from the blonde, “and i’m not obligated to tell you where, or with who for that matter, i was—”

“was it a certain matra?” kaveh grins knowingly, cutting him off.

the mere mention of you must make his face fall—which is new, because al-haitham has always been good at hiding his emotions on his face. but kaveh seems to have realized he’s overstepped, because his smile fades just as quickly as it comes.

“it doesn’t matter,” al-haitham mutters, “it was a mistake.”

“a mistake? but you’ve been pathetically pining for months, anyone with eyes can see—”

“i’ll be going to work now,” al-haitham cuts kaveh off, “make sure you pay this months rent on time.”

with that, he turns, making his way to his room to shower and then be off to the akademiya—where he equal parts hopes he doesn’t see you, and equal parts hopes he runs into you just to catch a glimpse of you again.

—————

you haven’t seen al-haitham is six days—correction: you’ve avoided al-haitham for six days. admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult seeing as he is the acting grand sage, and you do need him to approve of your reports from recent investigations—but then you remember how six days ago, in the darkly lit corner of the street on your way home, you both kissed.

(and yes, it was a drunken mistake—neither you nor al-haitham value public displays of inappropriate affection between coworkers, but that doesn’t erase what happened.)

perhaps it would be easy to laugh it off as an impulsive action the both of you took while being under the influence, but then you both stumbled into your house. and then your bed. and then a kiss turned into more…and then next thing you knew, you’ve been awakened to a very unclothed (but still very handsome) al-haitham next to you in the mattress.

you should be mature and face him—people can sleep with people and not let it mean anything, proper adults would simply brush over this and never look back. but al-haitham is a bit of a difficult scenario.

he’s handsome—painfully so, with those sculpted muscles and those soft strands of hair that fall perfectly over his face. but more than he is easy on the eyes, he’s a charming individual. at least to you—you think the majority of the akademiya would have to disagree.

but al-haitham is kind, he greets you properly, holds doors open for you, and he often notices when you’re tired just by looking at you before giving you extensions on reports. he’s caring, you can tell because he’s helped people more than once, and while he claims it’s for the sake of his own convenience so he can avoid extra trouble, you know that he doesn’t have the heart to turn away from those that need him. more importantly, al-haitham is disciplined—it’s something all matra such as yourself can appreciate.

he seeks out knowledge in the most moral of methods, he never crosses limits or abuses power even when he holds the ability to, and he never takes advantage of the authority he may hold over others.

he’s wonderful, you can’t help but think—and admittedly, his hands also have very attractive veins that make you sweat a little. but that’s not the important part, of course. the important part is how perfect his character is, if you take the moment to understand it. and you like to think you understand it—much more than most at the akademiya.

except romancing the akademiya’s grand sage isn’t the best look for a matra—especially if you want to climb up the ranks soon. you don’t want rumors spread to undermine your hard work…or worse, be accused by the general mahamatra of taking your position as the grand sage’s lover to your advantage for work gains.

cyno is a strict individual—you’d hate to get on his bad side. and just as you think about how awful it would be if he got the wrong impression, he walks right up to you.

with that serious look on his face—why does he always have that serious look on his face?

“grand sage al-haitham requests you in his office,” he says. you don’t detect any suspicion in his voice, and it seems like a perfectly normal statement, but that’s the thing about cyno. he’s too good at not letting his movements be read, too good at cornering caged animals before dragging them by the ankles out in the open, exposed and vulnerable.

you gulp. “did he say why?” you ask, “i’m a bit busy.”

“no,” cyno shakes his head—and then he looks at you oddly, “you don’t seem busy.”

“well….this report won’t write itself,” you chuckle nervously, which only makes his brows furrow in confusion.

“wasn’t that due two days ago?”

fuck.

“yes….but al-haitham gave me an extension.”

“he seems to give you a lot of those,” cyno points out, unimpressed.

well, that’s great, you think. surely, there is no other matra as good at losing composure and making things more obvious for themselves than you.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” you say quickly—which isn’t the worst excuse, seeing as you’ve hardly shown your face at the akademiya for the last few days.

cyno seems to buy it too, because he nods in understanding before giving you a concerned look. “you shouldn’t push yourself, you know,” he lectures, “being sick snot fun.” you blink, and he looks thoroughly amused with himself. “get it? because when you’re sick, you might have a runny nose? snot? and—”

“right,” you nod, “i’ll be seeing the grand sage now. i wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

at least you know cyno has not made any….inappropriate assumptions if he’s making jokes, as painful as they might be. you’re not sure if you’d rather face al-haitham or continue to listen to the general mahamatra’s interesting sense of humor, but the closer you get to the grand sage’s office, the more you want to turn back and find cyno again.

but you’re an adult, and adults do adult things sometimes, and sometimes they’re not the most ideal, but the only way to handle such situations is the adult way—to be mature and not let things get in the way of being professional. easy enough.

at least, you hope.

—————

“you called for me, grand sage?”

ouch. al-haitham has now been reduced to grand sage, not just al-haitham. he looks at you for a moment, and he tries—really, he does—to seem unbothered, but his brows crinkle before he can stop them.

“i did, yes,” he says, looking at you.

you look lovely—which, you always do, even when you’re nervous. he can tell you are because you have that habit of chewing on your lip when you’re nervous, and he hates that he makes you anxious enough to do that right now.

al-haitham has always hated the gap between him and everyone else—not because he enjoys being close to others, but because it’s burdensome to always seem like a pretentious asshole. being interpreted as one over the years has left him quite numb to what other people think….but that’s not the case with you, unfortunately. he wonders if you’ve ever thought he was an asshole, or if you’ve ever felt that he acts like he’s better than you are. he hopes you’ve never talked to him and thought he’s condescending like kaveh insists he is—he hopes you find value in his honesty and find him insightful.

he thinks you might have at one point, if the way carrying conversation with you is so easy is of any proof. it feels natural, talking to you. your voice is smooth, especially when it reads over mission reports to him in his office. your laugh is even smoother, though—it’s soft, and honeyed, it sounds like something he’s been missing his whole life.

everything about you feels like something he’s been missing his whole life, like he was born to be with you by his side, and he’s been empty without you all along.

you clear your throat, handing him papers as you pull him from his thoughts and say, “here is the report for that last investigation,” you say quietly, “i apologize for the untimeliness. it won’t happen again—”

“that’s not why i called you,” he cuts you off.

al-haitham is a straightforward man. he’s watched many confessions, and he’s read about many confessions, and he’s even thought about how his own confessions might go should he ever find someone he finds interest in.

but this isn’t interest. al-haitham is not interested in you—he needs you. to call this a confession might be incorrect, he thinks for a moment, because this almost feels like he’s about to plead for you to give him a chance.

“oh,” your voice is small.

you think you have an inkling of an idea of what he’ll bring up, and you contemplate running out of his office and begging cyno to tell you a few more of his jokes….or a few dozen….maybe a few hundred to be safe.

“we should talk about that night—”

“well, there’s not much to talk about,” you say simply, “you and i are consenting adults, and we happened to be heavily under the influence, which caused a lapse in judgement. it’s a bit unprofessional, sure, but as long as neither of us say anything, and as long as we manage to keep a professional atmosphere between the two of us, there shouldn’t be any—”

he cuts off your (rehearsed in the bathroom mirror many times) speech as he clears his throat. “i….” the words are caught in his throat.

for a lifetime of straightforward honesty and blunt words, it seems like now of all times he can’t seem to speak.

“you…?” you motion for him to continue.

“i enjoyed it.”

you sputter. his eyes widen as he stumbles over his words when he realizes what he’s really said.

“grand sage,” you gasp, “i think that’s hardly appropriate for—”

“n-no, i meant i enjoyed you,” he says quickly, making you furrow your brows.

“and what does that mean? because—”

“i enjoyed being with you,” he croaks. it’s a good thing kaveh isn’t here to witness this, because as a self proclaimed expert at love (which al-haitham would have to disagree), kaveh would have an absolute ball watching this. “i don’t….i would prefer if we didn’t pretend nothing happened,” he mumbles, “if you feel the same, that is.”

everything about al-haitham is hopeful. from the way his eyes watch your every movement as they stare at you, to the way he clutches the pen in his hand tightly in anticipation of your response, he’s hopeful. you can tell.

you can tell he’s hopeful you’ll say yes, that he’s hopeful you’ll say you feel the same way as him, that he’s hopeful he’ll see you again in a setting that’s not just for work and mission reports and investigation details.

he’s hopeful you’ll say yes to his pleading eyes and fill that empty spot beside him that’s been empty for far too long.

and it feels like swallowing lead when you sigh heavily and watch the hope crumble.

“al-haitham,” you mumble, “this wouldn’t be very wise, you know?”

“and why’s that?” the hurt in his face is almost tangible.

he’s not foreign to rejections, he’s witnessed them his whole life. he watched that haravatat scholar that declined the amurta one outside of class that one year. he read about that main character that found self respect and declined the toxic love interest in that novel he read last summer. he’s declined his own fair share of confessions by random scholars that stare a bit too long at his chest and arms for his liking.

but for some reason, he never imagined it to feel like this. like being with your for one second longer might just burn his skin, but being away from you might leave him cold and numb. al-haitham thinks that if you walked out that door, you might just take every bit of warmth he’s ever known from him—but sitting in front of you, in front of your sorrowed expression and sympathetic eyes….it might be too much heat for him to handle.

“well, you’re the grand sage, and i’m a matra—”

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “it’s temporary. i’ll be back to being the akademiya’s scribe in a short bit.”

“but people talk,” you insist, “and i’ve worked hard to be a respectable matra, and i wouldn’t want anyone to think i’ve slept my way to the top. plus, the general mahamatra is technically my boss, and he’s very strict—”

“the general mahamatra and i drink at taverns together quite often,” he says pointedly, “he’s well aware of how i feel.”

“you told cyno?” you gasp, shooting him a sharp look, “i asked you specifically not to—”

“he’s known of my feelings before that night,” he assures, “evidently i’m not very subtle.”

“well,” you hum, biting back a smile, “no, you aren’t.”

he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “you’ve known?”

“al-haitham,” you chuckle, eyeing him fondly. something about the way your smile is so bright makes him clutch his pen tighter. “you aren’t the most social, you know. but you always have something to say to me.”

“that doesn’t always mean anything,” he mumbles, blush rising to the tips of his ears.

he’s endearing this way, you decide—when he’s flustered and almost pouting and flushed a bright shade of pink. you think for a second that maybe, if you kiss him for a bit in the comforts of his office, no one will ever have to know.

“but it does, doesn’t it?” you tease.

“and if you’ve indulged it all this time, am i safe to assume it means something to you too?” he asks, raising a brow.

you should say no. sleeping with the grand sage and kissing him in his office and maybe even going on dates and possibly holding hands is hardly a good look—but the scribe….well, maybe the scribe is a different story.

“ask me again when you’re the akademiya’s scribe,” you say, biting back a smile, “perhaps my answer will be different then.”

“i see,” he nods, biting back a smile of his own, “i suppose the grand sage isn’t everyone’s type, huh?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i suppose not. but the scribe….well, he’s rather charming.” you walk up to him, lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you mumble, “i don’t mind waiting for the scribe.”

“well, lucky for you, you won’t have to wait too long,” he hums.

he watches you leave his office—and then he decides that when he clocks out at five pm sharp later, he’ll go straight home, tell kaveh that he is, in fact capable in the field of romance, and demand this month’s rent.

—————

BONUS:

“haitham, we’re out of eggs,” you pout, poking your head out of the fridge, “will you bring some on the way home today?”

“we would have eggs if kaveh didn’t use all of mine,” al-haitham grumbles, glaring at the blonde who gasps in offense. 

“and you help yourself to my beer, don’t you? i deserve a few eggs,” kaveh huffs. 

“well, make sure you pay this month’s rent on time. we’re going to buy some more furniture for our room.”

this time, kaveh turns to you in disbelief—you find it amusing how he seems to still find it improbable that anyone would like to spend longer than five minutes with al-haitham, let alone share a bedroom.

“are you really sure you want to do this? what could you possibly see in him? he’s the most aggravating individual i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to,” kaveh eyes you in concern as you walk over and press a soft kiss to al-haitham’s forehead, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the scribe and making you giggle. 

“he is a bit aggravating,” you agree with a teasing glint, pinching al-haitham’s cheek as he scoffs, “but i think he’s just nice to me because i sleep with him.”

“that’s gross,” kaveh wrinkles his nose, “you had better not be doing anything i can hear from my room—that would be traumatic. although, it must be more traumatic for you,” he says with sympathy.

“if you don’t like it, you can simply move out,” al-haitham, shrugs, wrapping an arm around your waist. as much as you love your boyfriend—and you love him quite a bit, you can’t help but mourn the fact that constant bickering will now become a staple in your daily routine. 

“are you threatening me?” kaveh gasps before he turns to you with his finger pointing to al-haitham, “do you see? this is your future, i hope you know that. he’s much more unpleasant to live with, i’m warning you in advance—don’t say i didn’t try.”

“well, i’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior for me,” you grin, eyeing al-haitham playfully as your fingers weave into his hair, “otherwise, i’ll have to come sleep in your room when i’m mad at him.”

you think, for the first time ever, kaveh and al-haitham seem to agree on something as they both share a look of dread at your words.

pov: you write 3.8k words of build up for a plot just so you can write the bonus scene 😭

no bc literally i meant to write this as a drabble just so i could write the bonus scene bc i thought of it and giggled but then the plot just kept going and now we’re at 4.1k words like w h a t

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MAD — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. alcohols consumption (drunk! al-haitham), post argument, fluff, ft. kaveh a real one for dragging home a heavy ass muscle man

al-haitham is good at holding his alcohol—at least, he is unless you’re in the middle of an argument. if you’re both arguing, then he seems much less likely to stay sober.

tonight for example—you open your bedroom door when kaveh (not so quietly) awakens you with his incessant knocking, grumbling under your breath as you reach for the door knob and twist. before you can even fully open the door, a very drunk and very heavy al-haitham is handed to you to hold steady.

“here, he’s your headache now,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “i was supposed to be the heavy drinker of tonight,” he glares at al-haitham (who doesn’t help himself any further when he glares right back), “my day was far more stressful.”

“what draft are you on with this client?” you ask sympathetically.

kaveh flares his nostrils as he grumbles, “six!”

“maybe seven will be the charm,” you hum, chuckling, “i’ll get this headache of mine to bed.”

“please do,” he nods, “and i wish a terrible hangover on him in the morning too.”

with that, the door is shut, and you hear kaveh walk off and slam his as he grumbles some more about the drunk mess in your arms. at least you and kaveh have that much in common tonight—a shared irritation for the akademiya’s ever so charming scribe.

(truthfully, it’s hardly an accurate description at the moment—al-haitham’s charms are currently little to none after earlier.)

“you’re not doing yourself favors,” you turn your attention to you boyfriend, who stumbles a little as he buries his head into your neck. it’s a tad bit adorable—but then you remember the know-it-all attitude from earlier and decide you’re mad again. “disrupting my sleep for your lightweight habits isn’t a good way to apologize.”

“not a lightweight,” he slurs—and then he pulls away and pouts, “still mad?”

“yes.”

“are you sure?”

“very.”

“‘s not nice,” he huffs, burying his face back into your neck.

you can feel the way his lips are curled into a pout as they kiss your neck, and even though you’d like to say you have better self control, you can’t help but wrap your arms around him. it’s just to keep him from falling, you reason—just because you’re mad at him doesn’t mean you want him to potentially fall and break something, and that would only mean taking care of him more, which you do not need right now.

“you know what else wasn’t nice? telling me i’m wrong when i’m right,” you huff, “and then arguing that i’m wrong even though you know i’m right.”

“said i was sorry,” he almost whines—drunk al-haitham has at least a few perks. one of them is how much more affectionate he is, peppering kisses along your jaw until he finds your cheek. “you’re soft,” he hums, “love you.”

“you smell like beer. go to bed,” you grunt, trying (and failing) to pull away and guide him to the bed. you don’t make it two steps before he’s latched back to your body.

“say it back,” he gasps, “say it.”

“al-haitham,” you groan, “you can’t be serious—”

“haitham,” he corrects, “supposed to call me haitham.”

“would you like to sleep on the couch, haitham?” you ask with a dry smile on your face, eyes narrowed as he shakes his head. he tucks it into the crook of your neck, sighing happily as he inhales your scent.

“no, ‘s not good f’my back.”

“your back is the least of your concerns right now,” you mumble bitterly. “okay, let’s get you undressed.”

“you’re not mad?” he brightens up immediately at your words, taking them entirely out of context. his lips lean in to press against yours as his hands snake under your shirt, making you huff and slap his hands away as you turn your head and force his lips to meet your cheek.

“oh, i’m still very mad. don’t even think you’re getting anything tonight,” you scold.

for the nth time tonight, he pouts. and truthfully, you’re only human at the end of the day. if the akademiya’s usually stoic and composed scribe—who happens to be your equally as stoic and composed boyfriend—seems to pout this many times in one night….well, it would make anyone’s resolve crumble. even someone who’s angry after an argument—someone much like you.

“you’re a lot cuter when you’re drunk, you know that?” you giggle, poking his cheek lightly. he hums, nuzzling the tip of his nose against your skin as he leans more weight into you.

“aren’t i always cute?”

“not when you’re stubborn.”

“‘m cute,” he argues, “y’think ‘m cute, right?”

“no,” you grin, just to tease him. it’s a bit fun—pulling those wide eyes and curled lips from him, pulling that slightly crestfallen look that only a drunk al-haitham would let you witness.

it’s not too mean to let yourself indulge in this just once, is it?

“don’t be rude,” he slurs, “love you. say it back?”

“say please,” you tease, chuckling as your fingers thread through his hair.

he seems to brighten when you offer him a bit of affection, leaning into your touch as he sighs happily. “please,” he says politely, pressing a kiss to your skin before adding, “‘m sorry,” for good measure.

“how sorry?”

you plan on dragging this out for as long as you can—is it morally correct to take advantage of your drunk boyfriend? perhaps not….but no one is perfect, and you’re no exception.

“really sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing your hips.

“sorry enough to do the dishes for the week?”

“mhm,” he nods.

“kaveh’s too,” you add, with a satisfied grin on your face.

he nods, mumbling a quiet, “okay. kaveh’s too,” without question.

“how much do you love me?”

“a lot,” he says slowly, and by now, he’s leaning enough weight in you that you can tell he’ll fall asleep any moment. so you chuckle, pulling him along slowly before letting his body hit the mattress.

“this is my side of the bed,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes, but he doesn’t seem to hear you as he closes his eyes and sighs when your hand cups his cheek and rubs the warm, flushed skin. “do you love me more than you love being right?”

“mhm,” he hums, half awake as his eyes droop, “say it back now.”

“i love you too,” you finally crack, leaning in and kissing his lips briefly, “even if you’re rude and impossible.”

“‘m still cute,” he rebuttals, “right?”

“oh yes,” you giggle, “the cutest.”

“good,” he nods. and then his eyes close, and he’s snoring lightly, cheek still pressed against your hand.

you’re supposed to be mad, maybe even give him the silent treatment for a bit—but then you watch him sleep peacefully, the smallest of smiles pulling at his lips when your fingers thread through the sweaty locks of hair. regretfully, you can’t stay mad, not when it’s al-haitham—and especially not when it’s drunk al-haitham.

“you’re such a headache,” you mumble, kissing his forehead before joining him on the bed and tucking into his side.

and when he wakes up in the morning, with what is hopefully the awful hangover kaveh wished upon him, you’ll make sure to remind him of his agreement to do the dishes. kaveh’s too.

if u try to tell me al-haitham isn’t a clingy and affectionate drunk, ur wrong. he’s so babie after he drinks

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。08:00 PM — AL-HAITHAM.

idk i just felt like. writing haitham grieving his grandmother. it’s also a slight character study ig. idk if anyone will read this but if you do. just know that he is the core of my heart. his grandmother too i mourn her death so much sobs

“hey,” you say gently, sitting next to him. al-haitham only grunts in acknowledgment, slumped on the couch. “d’you want dinner? i made your favorite.”

“not hungry,” he mumbles.

his grandmother’s death anniversary is a sore spot. it’s a day you tiptoe around carefully every year. you don’t know much about his family—just that he was orphaned very young and raised by his father’s mother until the ripe age of 16. you’ve seen the dainty handwriting inside the covers of books, and you’ve even seen a small, framed photograph that he keeps stowed away.

sometimes, you wish he’d tell you. you wish the far away look and the clenched fist around the fabric of his pants would ease with your presence. you wish he’d tell you about her, that you’d know the woman who raised the man you love—even if only through hushed words and old stories.

“you hate sleeping on an empty stomach,” you hum, placing your hand over his clenched one.

his fist loosens a little—progress.

“i…” he pauses, let’s out a heavy sigh before letting his head fall back. there’s tension in his shoulders, in his neck, in the jaw he keeps so tightly clenched. “i won’t be sleeping for a bit. sorry,” he tries to sound apologetic. you don’t hear much in his tone besides defeat. “you can head in without me.”

“that’s okay,” you shrug, forcing his clenched fingers apart to weave yours in with his. “i don’t sleep well without you anyway.”

“suit yourself,” is all he says.

and it’s silent for a bit. he seems to be thinking deeply—or reminiscing, maybe grieving. maybe all three, but you’re not too sure. you’re never too sure when it comes to how al-haitham feels about anything.

he’s hard to decipher—but he’s easy to pull apart. you don’t understand how someone as hard and calculating as him is so gentle with love, but it’s hard not to notice how soft his touch is, how it lingers, how the tips of his fingers long for you. you don’t doubt he loves you—he never gives you the chance to.

but sometimes….sometimes you wish he’d let you love him properly. to kiss the scars. to admire the parts he thinks are ugly. to shelter the thoughts that have no home besides his own head.

it’s silent for a bit—until it’s not. you break the silence first, like you’re holding a hand out for him from the shore as he drifts aimlessly.

“baby?” you ask quietly. he grunts again in response. “what was she like?”

“who?”

al-haitham is a smart man. probably the smartest you’ve ever met. you don’t think you’ve ever met someone who read physics books as a pastime, and you’re pretty certain he’ll always be the only one. you know he knows exactly what what you’re asking and you know he’s avoiding it.

but it doesn’t stop you though—it’s been long enough, you think. you’ve known him long enough. craved him for a few summers and loved him for enough winters that he has pieces of you that fall through the cracks of your resolve.

you think you deserve a few pieces of him too—even if your fingers have to reach past the cracks themselves, even if they have to slice against the jagged edges and bleed a little in the process.

you’ll bleed for him—like the sun rises from the east and sets in the west, your heart beats for al-haitham. and it’ll bleed for him too.

“your grandmother,” you whisper. “you’ve never told me about her.”

“there’s not much to tell,” he shrugs. “she died right before i enrolled in the akademiya and she raised me after my parents died.”

“i’m sure there’s more,” you say gently—his grip has tightened on your hand now. you don’t think he realizes—in fact, you don’t think al-haitham realizes half of what he feels when it comes to vulnerability.

it’s why he realizes he loves you so late. it’s why you fall first and he falls after. but he falls harder—it’s not hard to see.

“she was a ksharewar scholar,” he offers blankly.

your thumb brushes over his knuckles, and it’s almost like your hand reaches past the shore just a little further—you don’t mind risking the fall into the water if it means pulling him out.

“haitham,” you sigh delicately. he swallows. it’s hard to keep composure for long—even for someone like him.

grief is an evil thing. it’s a familiar friend—one you wish you never made and one you’ll never shake away. it dances with you under the moonlight, when the stars are bright but the sky is heavy. it barely grazes your skin some days but weighs into your bones on others. it’s a cruel thing really—and it hits you harder some moments than others.

“she was kind,” he starts slowly, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours over the shoreline. maybe, just maybe, sometimes he can get tired of drifting too. “she liked to bake. her hands got too weak to knead dough when i got older, though. you would have liked her tarts. she couldn’t read without her glasses and she always forgot they were on her head. she said my father looked like her husband and that i look like my father. she used to ask me to read to her sometimes so i’d sit on her lap and read my books out loud. she loved the sunrise but was never good at waking up on time to see it. she used to drink tea during sunsets. she liked hers extra sweet and i liked mine more bitter. i…” he pauses, voice shaky as his fingers dig into your hand. you squeeze, and he sniffles. “i haven’t had tea since she passed.”

“she sounds lovely,” you whisper. “i would have loved to meet her.”

“she’d have loved you,” he cracks a small smile, shaking his head as he thinks. “probably more than she loved me.”

“i’m sure i’d never compare to her darling grandson,” you chuckle, bumping arms with him. his head drops to your shoulder—you hesitate for a moment before deciding to pull him into your chest. and when he doesn’t protest, when he buries himself into you instead of pulling away, you thread your fingers into his hair.

“i miss her,” he croaks quietly.

“i know,” you soothe. “i know, baby.”

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life. one is gone but it lives through the other. the gentle touch against his scalp and the warmth under his cheek is familiar—it feels like the lap he slept on when he was six. it feels like the delicate hands that cupped his cheeks when he was eight. it feels like the soft kisses against his temple when he was ten.

al-haitham has only ever known love twice in his life, and he’s glad that one of them is you.

“you’d have loved her too,” his voice breaks. you kiss his head as you feel your shirt dampen.

“i already do,” you murmur, “she raised you well. i have her to thank.”

his breath hitches at that—and then he pulls you closer, grasps you tighter, falls in love with you harder. his grandmother’s death anniversary has always been a sore spot—but somehow, you numb the ache even if by just a little.

gently, your hand clasps his and pulls him to shore. he’s grateful he doesn’t have to drift alone anymore.

there is nothing i’m more obsessed with than al-haitham’s childhood. i have so many thought about it. and him. and his character. and his inner thoughts and feelings and most of them revolve around his grandmother and more importantly her passing. and idk. he’s just sosososo important to me i wish we knew more about his grandmother. i love her so much i grieve her passing even though we’ve never even met her 😭

smth about secrets, acceptance, and relief

open for better quality | no reposts | ID under the cut

[Image description: A four page comic of Kaveh and Alhaitham. In the spur of the moment, Alhaitham confesses something to Kaveh. Kaveh is surprised for a moment, but soon notices Alhaitham is tense and trembling from the sheer emotion. He gently holds his hands and talks to him. Alhaitham listens quietly and stares at his hands in Kaveh's. When he calms down, he leans onto Kaveh's shoulder.]

The Top 15 Authors of the Batfam Fanfic Survey

Here’s the top 15 authors of the Batfam Fanfic Survey! Go check out their amazing works and give them a couple kudos. This survey also collected fan-favourite fanfictions and a complete collection can be seen here!

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Go check our their work!! They all have some wonderful fanfics and I’m sure you’ll find something you like in their portfolios!

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~ Kay