Hiiii!!! So excited to see that reqs are back open, even just temporarily :)
Can I request Aventurine with a bodyguard reader? They’re pretty stoic at first, but eventually start warming up to him, and at some point they get hurt protecting him, and Aven has to deal with The Feelings.
Sending you all the absolute best and I hope you’re doing well :D
No One Bets on the Bodyguard
Summary: Aventurine is always in control—until you, his stoic bodyguard, begin to chip away at his carefully crafted facade. What begins as a strictly professional partnership gradually evolves into something deeper as your silent loyalty and unwavering presence start to affect him. But when an ambush puts you in danger and you’re seriously injured protecting him, Aventurine is forced to confront emotions he’s spent a lifetime burying. In the aftermath, vulnerability and honesty become the highest-stakes gamble of all.
Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Bodyguard!Reader, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Suppression, Protective Instincts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Power Dynamics, Fluff in Denial, Hidden Vulnerability, Found Family Vibes.
Warnings: Blood/injury (non-graphic), Emotional repression, Mention of past trauma, Mild violence (attack scene), Survivor’s guilt references, Subtle power imbalance.
The polished floors of the IPC building reflected the golden glow of chandeliers overhead as Aventurine strolled through the grand corridor, his eyes flicking from one reflection to another. The layers of soft, calculated laughter echoed through the hallways, masking the sharpness behind his gaze. There was a game to be played, as always.
His bodyguard—your presence—hovered a few paces behind, a silent, steadfast figure who exuded quiet authority. You were ever-watchful, ever-alert, not one to indulge in the frivolous distractions that plagued the high society around you. Your stoic demeanor was the perfect counterbalance to Aventurine's charismatic and flamboyant personality, which made the contrast between you both all the more striking.
"Ah, you're as silent as ever, my mysterious guardian," Aventurine remarked, his voice teasing but carrying an edge of curiosity. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a little less... stoicism? A smile wouldn't hurt now and then."
You said nothing, only offering a slight nod. Your eyes never wavered from your surroundings, constantly scanning for potential threats. Aventurine was used to your silence, even if it occasionally frustrated him. He had learned, over time, that beneath your guarded exterior lay a sharp mind and an unwavering dedication to your duty—traits that made you the perfect protector.
The two of you had been assigned to each other months ago. At first, you had been little more than an extension of his security team, a quiet sentinel who watched over him with the same vigilance as the others. But there was something about Aventurine that intrigued you, something that made it hard to keep your distance. He was a puzzle, wrapped in a gambler's smile and the sharp edge of his strategic mind.
Still, you kept your distance. You weren’t here to make friends; you were here to protect him. Your job was clear, even if the lines between duty and something more were starting to blur.
That night, the tension in the air was palpable. Aventurine had been gambling on a high-stakes deal, and the room was full of people with dangerous motives. In a space where words could cut deeper than any weapon, your eyes never left him, your hand resting on the hilt of the concealed blade beneath your coat.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. A soft rustling of fabric, a quick movement—a shadow among shadows. You were already in motion before the threat had fully revealed itself.
A group of masked figures had been positioned at various points around the room, and in a heartbeat, one lunged toward Aventurine, a knife glinting under the dim light. You moved faster than anyone could track, intercepting the attacker mid-strike.
The blade grazed your side, the pain sharp but manageable. You twisted, using the momentum to disarm the assailant, but not before another managed to land a solid blow against your shoulder. The room erupted into chaos, but you managed to keep Aventurine out of the line of fire, herding him to a safer corner.
"Stay down," you hissed, your voice colder than usual, as you stood between him and the threat, your hand still clenched around the blade you'd taken from one of the attackers. You didn't need to check; you knew the blood was already staining the fabric of your uniform.
Aventurine was silent for a beat. Then, his voice, usually light and laced with amusement, was sharp with something else—a fear you rarely heard from him. "You're hurt," he muttered, stepping closer, his eyes scanning you for any further injuries. "You should let me—"
"Focus on the others," you interrupted firmly, your gaze sweeping the room. There was no time for hesitation, not now.
But Aventurine was different. His usual cool composure was beginning to crack, the mask slipping as his hands hovered uselessly near you, clearly unsure of what to do. You could see the internal conflict in his eyes, the war between his usual indifference and something deeper.
The fight continued, and the room slowly cleared. But through it all, the weight of your injuries lingered, making your limbs feel like lead. By the time the last assailant was subdued, your breath was shallow, and the world had started to tilt. The blood loss was slow but significant.
You had managed to protect him—again. But at what cost?
Later that night, after the chaos had died down, you found yourself in a private medical bay. The sterile scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint hum of the station’s machinery. You sat on the bed, a stark contrast to the opulence of the surroundings, as a medic carefully cleaned your wounds.
The door clicked open behind you, and Aventurine entered, his steps softer than usual. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, just watching you. His face was unreadable, but you could feel the tension in the air.
"I told you not to... overexert yourself," he began, his voice low, as though searching for the right words. "You could have—"
"Done what? Let them hurt you?" You cut him off, your tone firm despite the weakness creeping into your body. "That’s my job."
His lips pressed into a thin line. There was something different about him now. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. Slowly, he crossed the room and stopped in front of you. His hand hovered uncertainly near your shoulder, and you could see the struggle on his face.
"Thank you," he said, almost reluctantly, his gaze softening. The words hung between you, heavier than they should have been.
You didn't respond at first, the silence thick. Instead, you simply met his eyes, wondering if he truly understood the gravity of the situation. He had made it clear that he saw life as a game, a gamble—but you? You weren’t just playing with stakes; you were willing to sacrifice everything for him.
"You don’t have to do that," you finally said, your voice more subdued. "You don’t have to thank me."
Aventurine’s eyes flitted to the bandages on your body, the bruises already beginning to form. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something more, but nothing came out.
Then, finally, he let out a breath. “I’m not... I’m not good at this,” he confessed quietly, his usual charm stripped away. “I don’t know how to... care for someone like this.”
His vulnerability, so rare for him, left you speechless for a moment. Instead of pushing him away, you let your gaze soften, a silent gesture of understanding. You didn’t need him to be perfect—just honest. And that honesty, for a man who had made his life out of lies, meant more than words could express.
"I’m not asking for perfection," you murmured, allowing a hint of warmth to enter your tone. "Just don’t gamble with your life like that again, okay?"
Aventurine smiled, a real smile this time—one that reached his eyes, even if it was tinged with something complicated. "No promises, my guardian angel," he teased, his voice laced with something far more sincere than you expected.
You shook your head but couldn’t suppress the small shift in your heart. The walls were slowly coming down, and maybe, just maybe, there was more to this gamble than either of you had bargained for.
I think that Gina was always meant to be redeemed. She's in the main cast ensemble credits. She stands right there next to the rest. she can become off-putting and annoying sometimes but there's meant to be something more to her character. A scene where our opinion of her changes. We start to understand her. We shed the bravado act and see human insecurities in her character. We see doubt over her performative persona and the true feelings that she isn't doing anything meaningful with her life- this causes her to act out.
Can I request Herta x Fem!reader with the stereotypical plot of "and there was one bed" 🤤🤤🤤
“And Then, There Was Only One Bed”
Summary: When an unexpected rooming error at a remote space station leaves you and The Herta—with only one bed, you're forced into closer quarters than you ever imagined. Between sarcastic teasing, intellectual ego, and a suspicious amount of body heat discussion, you begin to see the woman behind the genius. Just don't let her know how fast your heart’s racing. She will call it an experiment.
Tags: The Herta x Fem!Reader, One Bed Trope, Slow Burn, Flirty Teasing, Mutual Pining, Witty Banter, Hidden Vulnerability, Light Romance, Reader Gets Flustered, Herta Being Smug, Emotional Tension, Soft Moments.
Warnings: Suggestive Dialogue, Reader Embarrassment, Intense Staring, Light Sexual Tension, Mild Language, No Explicit Content, One Bed Scenario, Smug Genius Behavior.
The door slid shut with a mechanical hiss, and you stood frozen in place, your eyes slowly sweeping across the sleek, minimalist room.
One bed.
There was only one bed.
“…Well. That’s unfortunate,” Herta muttered, her voice as nonchalant as ever as she sauntered past you, heels clicking against the polished floor. “I specifically requested separate quarters. I suppose one of my puppets made a scheduling error. Or maybe this space station has simply developed an affinity for narrative clichés.”
You blinked. “We can probably contact the—”
“No.” She flopped onto the bed with all the grace of someone entirely unbothered by personal space. “That sounds exhausting. You can share. I don’t snore.”
Your brain short-circuited for a moment. This was The Herta, member #83 of the Genius Society, intellect of cosmic proportions, architect of the Simulated Universe… casually laying on the only bed in a small research outpost room like this was a slumber party.
“…You don’t have to sleep here,” you managed, already regretting how flustered your voice sounded.
She glanced at you over her shoulder, eyes gleaming with subtle amusement. “Oh, I’m aware. I could requisition a new unit, override the room’s infrastructure, or sleep standing up in one of my puppets. But that wouldn’t be as interesting.”
Your face flushed. “Interesting?”
Herta sat up, resting her chin on her palm, elbow on her knee. “Don’t act like you’re not curious. You’ve been trying not to stare at me since we arrived on this station.”
Your jaw dropped. “I haven’t!”
“Mm. A common reaction to genius and beauty combined.” She flicked her hair back. “I don’t blame you. If I were anyone else, I’d be captivated too.”
You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Can you please not psychoanalyze me when I’m trying to figure out how not to die of embarrassment?”
A soft laugh escaped her lips—surprisingly genuine. “I’m teasing. Mostly.”
You cautiously lowered your hands and caught her expression—something unreadable behind that usual veil of sarcasm. There was a softness there. Fleeting. And just like that, it was gone.
“I can take the floor,” you offered quickly, retreating into reason to protect yourself.
Herta looked positively offended. “I wouldn’t let even my least efficient puppet sleep on the floor. Absolutely not.”
“So… we’re actually sharing the bed?”
“Obviously.” She lay back again, arms behind her head. “Unless you’d prefer I sleep in your arms. That is more efficient for heat distribution.”
You coughed violently, nearly tripping over your own feet.
She laughed again—low, smug, but somehow warm.
You eventually climbed into the bed, keeping a solid foot of space between the two of you. The mattress was high-grade anti-grav tech, meaning it adjusted instantly to your weight. Quiet, still. Tense.
“…You’re stiff,” Herta murmured, somewhere beside you in the dim light.
“That’s because you’re here,” you mumbled back.
“I know. Fascinating, isn’t it?”
You turned toward her, expecting another teasing smile—but she was already facing you, her expression oddly thoughtful, her eyes luminous in the dark.
“You’re different,” she said softly.
“Huh?”
“You don’t treat me like a theory or an idol.” Her voice was quieter now, strangely vulnerable. “You get flustered, sure. But you see me. The person. Not the puppet. Not the genius.”
You felt your heart stutter. “Because you are a person, Herta.”
She blinked, slowly. “…That’s not a truth I hear very often.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Quiet. Intimate.
You swallowed. “So, uh… do you always tease the people you let share your bed?”
She smirked. “Only the ones who matter.”
And as the artificial lights dimmed further and her hand accidentally (or maybe not so accidentally) brushed against yours under the covers, you realized something cosmic had just shifted between the two of you.
I’d like to request Mermaid!Aventurine X Avian!reader
One of readers wings gets injured by god knows what(idk man just set them on fire or something. totally the kindest option.) and they ended up near some little town by a lake.
Reader is too stubborn to actually go and ask for help from the humans so they’re kinda just stuck lurking around nearby because they aren’t dumb enough to go too far out in the wild with injuries + the inability to fly.
Cue reader meeting Aventurine at some point, hates him at first for whatever reason, but ends up warming up to him(or at least starts tolerating him a bit) eventually after learning he’s basically also stuck here.
Reader didn’t really know mermaids existed(other fantasy creatures? Yeah. Mermaids? Nope.) so they honestly just thought that it was normal for these weird ‘fish people’ as they call them to be in a lake rather than an ocean(they honestly don’t see the problem. There aren’t as many dangerous creatures here as the ocean, and there’s still a lot of space for him to swim around right?)
I feel like I should make my own fanfic about this instead of requesting my ideas to someone but I don’t know the first thing about actually writing something good
Clipped Wings and Tethered Fins
Summary: After suffering a severe wing injury, you—a stubborn and prideful avian—find yourself stranded near a small lakeside town, unable to fly and too reluctant to seek help from humans. While lurking on the outskirts, you encounter Aventurine, an enigmatic and infuriatingly smug mermaid who seems just as trapped as you are. Initially, you despise him, but as he helps you with your injury, you begin to realize that perhaps you’re not so different after all.
Tags: Mermaid!Aventurine x Avian!Reader, Enemies to Reluctant Allies, Slow Burn, Injured Reader, Stubborn Reader, Banter & Snark, Aventurine Being a Menace, Hidden Vulnerability, Mutual Isolation, Forced Proximity.
Warnings: Mild Injury Description, Light Angst (mentions of pain, being stranded), Aventurine's Teasing, Minor Touching (Aventurine tending to your injury), Slow Relationship Development (from irritation to reluctant trust).
The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the serene lake, its waters mirroring the sky like a liquid canvas. The quiet stillness was occasionally broken by the soft rustling of the trees on the shore. You, however, were anything but still.
Your injured wing—a mess of scorched feathers and pain—hung limply by your side, each step you took sending pangs of agony through your body. You had no idea what had caused the fire that had scorched the wing. Was it the wind? A burst of magic from some distant god? Whatever the cause, the result was the same: you couldn't fly. You had been stubborn enough to resist asking for help from the humans in the nearby town. You knew they’d likely treat you like some freak of nature. They wouldn’t understand.
So, you lingered on the outskirts of their settlement, lurking among the trees, your feet brushing the earth as you tried to keep to the shadows. The world felt far too big with one wing useless and the other healthy but weighed down by your fear and pride.
It wasn’t until you heard the faint splash of water that you first noticed him.
He was a figure that seemed out of place—something akin to a reflection caught halfway between reality and the deep waters. At first, you thought you were imagining things, the shimmering of his tail in the sunlight. But there he was, rising from the lake with the elegance of a predator gliding through its domain, the dark green of his scales flashing in the light. His torso, beautifully sculpted and muscular, was partially exposed above the water as he leaned against a jagged rock, his face hidden by a low-hanging brimmed hat.
Your instincts told you to stay hidden. You weren’t in the mood to deal with anyone—especially someone who looked like he could be trouble. But curiosity gnawed at you, and against your better judgment, you found yourself edging closer, peering from behind the dense foliage. Your keen hearing picked up snippets of his musings, the tone of his voice sending a strange shiver down your spine.
"You know, one would think that after all these years of 'evolution,' humans would learn not to bother with the pointless games of politics. So dull, really." His voice was smooth, almost velvety, and oddly calming in the quiet of the evening.
You stiffened. “What the hell is that?” you muttered, eyeing the strange creature, this ‘mermaid,’ with skepticism.
He must have heard your words, for he turned his head, his gaze locking onto you with an almost predatory sharpness. His eyes gleamed, the black slitted pupils staring through the trees with uncanny precision. He studied you for a long moment before his lips curled into a soft, knowing smile.
"Not quite the most subtle observer, are we?" he said, his tone dripping with amusement, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But then again, I suppose none of us are. Strangers often look before they speak. And you're no different."
You bristled, not expecting to be noticed so easily, and especially not by him. You had no patience for his teasing.
"I'm not here to chat with a... fish," you said, your tone sharp as you made to turn away. "I just don’t need your kind to be part of my problems."
His laugh followed you like an echo through the woods. "My kind, hm? And what exactly would that be, hmm? The aquatic type? Or are you merely referring to the fact that I'm much better at swimming than you are at flying?"
You froze mid-step, annoyed by his casual teasing and the fact that he somehow knew you couldn’t fly.
"Listen, I don't need your help, alright? Just stay in your lake and mind your business." You made to leave, but the pressure in your wing made it too painful to move swiftly.
Aventurine, as he introduced himself moments later, was swift to notice your struggle. "Ah, what's this? Seems like someone’s in need of a little assistance after all."
You tried to pull away, growling in frustration, but your injured wing refused to cooperate, dragging you back down. He approached you effortlessly, his sleek tail flicking through the water with a fluid grace.
“Don’t touch me,” you spat, your feathers ruffling defensively.
He tilted his head, observing you for a long, silent moment. "You're hardly in any position to turn down help, sweetheart." His tone was soft, the mocking edge now replaced by something else—something almost concerned, but wrapped in layers of calm indifference.
"I'm fine," you muttered, but there was no conviction behind it. You knew your pride was keeping you from seeking help, but you were too tired to keep pretending that it wasn’t hurting. The fire on your wing had left it stiff and useless, and your exhaustion was becoming too much to bear.
"You've got a choice, then." His voice broke through your fog of frustration. "You can either suffer in silence and try to fly with that wing in its current state... or you can let me help you."
You shot him a glare but couldn’t summon the energy to argue further. Sighing deeply, you slumped your shoulders and let out a reluctant, "Fine. Help me then."
Aventurine smiled—this time, the smile was genuine, though there was still that dangerous edge beneath it. "You’re welcome, I suppose." He stepped forward, his hands carefully reaching for your injured wing. You winced, but his touch was surprisingly gentle, far more so than you'd expected from someone who clearly enjoyed toying with you.
As his hands worked their magic, you couldn't help but notice how absurdly out of place he seemed in this tiny town. The lake was calm, the people around it unaware of the mermaid who called it home, and yet, here he was—trapped, just like you. You hated how he could so easily find solace in the quiet of the water while you struggled with your wing, but there was something undeniably captivating about him.
When he was done, he stepped back, eyes scanning your face. "You’re all patched up now. Not so bad, is it?"
You gritted your teeth, feeling a little better but still annoyed by the situation. "I still hate you," you muttered, but there was less venom in your voice than before.
Aventurine chuckled, the sound of it like the soft lapping of the water against the shore. "Hate is such a strong word, darling. Perhaps tolerance is a better fit?"
You rolled your eyes but found yourself unable to push him away anymore. Despite his irritating nature, you realized you didn’t mind his presence so much. Perhaps because you were both trapped in this small town. Maybe, just maybe, you'd both find a way out, but for now, the least you could do was stop fighting him.
"Fine," you sighed, letting the distance between you two shrink. "Maybe I’ll tolerate you for now. But don’t get used to it."
Aventurine grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he dipped his head in a mock bow. "Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I have a feeling you'll come around."
And for the first time since your wing was injured, you weren't entirely certain you wanted to run.
hiii!! may I request aventurine x female!reader who wears jirai kei? you can write any plot you like, I'll leave it to your imagination!
“His Luck Was a Lie; Her Love Wasn’t”
Summary: In the dreamlike cityscape of Penacony, where illusions and debts intertwine, Aventurine—IPC’s charming, calculating risk-taker—crosses paths with a mysterious young woman clad in Jirai Kei fashion. Drawn to her bittersweet beauty and emotional authenticity, he invites her into his world of high-stakes games and emotional subterfuge. But as the night unfolds, masks slip and truths surface. Between velvet lace and velvet lies, the two discover a connection neither expected—a gamble of vulnerability, trust, and something dangerously close to love.
Tags: Aventurine x Female!Reader, Jirai Kei Fashion, Slow Burn, Emotional Intimacy, Angst with Comfort, Subtle Flirting, Mutual Attraction, Psychological Themes, Hurt/Comfort, Symbolism & Body Language, Hidden Vulnerability.
Warnings: Emotional trauma and past abuse references (slavery, survivor’s guilt, religious trauma), Mild suggestiveness/Romantic tension, Psychological manipulation themes, Light angst, Subtle allusions to self-worth struggles.
The artificial twilight of Penacony bathed the skyline in a gentle lavender haze, casting blurred shadows over casinos shaped like glass towers and serpentine railways that shimmered like silk. The city pulsed like a heart too full of secrets. A place of dreams and delusions—perfect for a man like Aventurine.
And perhaps, perfect for a girl like you.
You stood outside the Celestial Roulette, Penacony’s most exclusive (and absurdly opulent) gambling lounge, your (Jirai Kei) outfit making you look as if you'd walked out of a dream. A delicate blend of rebellion and sweetness—frilly lace blouse, oversized sweater draped like armor, a skirt embroidered with broken hearts and stars, and lace-up boots that clicked like soft defiance. Black ribbons threaded your hair, and your heavy eye makeup made your eyes look like storms with lashes.
You didn’t belong here.
And yet, neither did he.
He was leaning beside the entrance, tossing a coin—gold-edged, glinting with something not quite light. Aventurine's eyes, magenta and cyan with slitted pupils, landed on you with the ease of a predator spotting a wildcard in a rigged game.
“Well,” he drawled, tucking the coin into his sleeve with magician-like flair. “You don’t look like someone who came here for safe bets.”
“And you don’t look like someone who makes any,” you replied, brushing your skirt as if flicking off expectation. “Am I being scouted or stalked?”
A grin spread across his face, sharklike but oddly sincere. “Why not both?”
He invited you in—not with words, but with a gloved hand held out like an invitation to the gallows.
The casino inside was dazzling—roulette wheels in the ceiling, dealers in porcelain masks, and chandeliers dripping with artificial starlight. You were underdressed for its wealth, overdressed for its authenticity, and Aventurine? He was dressed like someone who invented decadence.
Your hands brushed as you took a seat beside him at a private card table, and for a moment, he froze. You didn’t notice—too busy scanning the room with calculated detachment.
But he noticed you.
“Your look,” he said as the dealer shuffled, “it’s… tragic elegance. Rebellion dipped in sugar. I like it.”
You tilted your head. “And yours is ‘snake with a tailor and a god complex.’”
He laughed—genuinely. “Touché.”
Cards were dealt. You played with hesitance. He played with flair. But you didn’t miss how he occasionally glanced at his left hand—always hidden beneath the table, curled into itself like a memory he couldn't shake.
You leaned closer, the scent of rose perfume and clove curling around him. “Are you always this performative, or am I a special occasion?”
Aventurine turned his head slightly, the smirk faltering just enough to show something real. “You’re not like the others.”
“Because I dress like sadness wrapped in pastels?”
“No,” he said, quieter now. “Because you look like you know exactly what it feels like to be caged. And you wear it like art.”
The two of you left the casino around midnight, the air thick with the perfume of distant dreams and neon melancholy.
You walked along a translucent bridge above the cityscape, your sweater sleeves pulled over your hands. Aventurine’s overcoat billowed in the wind, the roulette wheel design on his back glinting.
“I used to think survival was just a numbers game,” he said suddenly. “You know—play your odds, take your chances, and bluff the pain away.”
You glanced at him, surprised at the drop in bravado.
“But then you came in,” he continued, eyes fixed ahead, “wearing heartbreak on your sleeves. No poker face. Just… authenticity. You reminded me that pain isn’t always a weakness. Sometimes it’s just proof you’re still real.”
You didn’t answer right away. Just slipped your hand into his—gently, not forcefully. He startled, a sharp intake of breath escaping him like a held gamble finally lost.
His hand was warm. You felt the faint tremble he tried to hide.
“You’re real too, you know,” you murmured. “Even if you try to pretend you're just… luck in a suit.”
He looked at you then, eyes softening into something terrifyingly human.
“If I kissed you,” he said, voice low, “would it be a risk or a reward?”
You leaned in, daring him. “Only one way to find out.”
Aventurine, for all his charm, had never gambled with honesty. But with you, he found himself laying down pieces of his soul one card at a time.
And for the first time in years, the game no longer felt rigged.
Just real.
Like the brush of lace against fingertips.
Like a kiss beneath artificial stars.
Like two broken things daring to become something whole.
Il legame tra Achille e Patroclo rivive nel romance storico di Laura Doretto: un racconto di guerra, destino e amore tra le pianure della Tessaglia e le spiagge di Troia.
