Honkai Star: Rail x Reader Oneshots

"It's ugly, isn't it?" | Aventurine x Reader

Summary: Aventurine reveals the truth behind the choker he always wears-As he confronts the deep trauma of his former life, he questions who he really is, unable to outrun the constant reminder of his painful past. Struggling with his identity, Aventurine opens up about the weight he carries, leaving you powerless to heal the wounds that may never fade.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort Emotional Trauma, Past Abuse, Vulnerability, Slave Mark, Self-Loathing, Identity Crisis, No Happy Ending, Emotional Pain, Heavy Angst Hurt Aventurine, Unresolved Tension, Dark Themes.

Warnings: Themes of emotional trauma and self-loathing, Mentions of past abuse (slave mark, ownership), Heavy angst with no comfort or resolution, Themes of identity crisis, Dark emotional content. You've been warned.

The room was opulent, draped in lavish velvet curtains and lit by the soft, golden glow of crystal chandeliers that sparkled overhead. The city outside, with its vibrant lights and bustling streets, was entirely blocked out. Only the rich warmth of the room remained, creating an almost suffocating sense of isolation.

Aventurine stood by the window, back turned, his posture rigid yet slouched in a way that betrayed the exhaustion weighing down his usual confidence. His sandy-blond hair, always so meticulously styled, looked slightly disheveled under the faint light. His hand rested on the windowsill, fingers tracing aimless patterns against the smooth surface as he stared into the drawn curtains. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, as if words lingered on the edge of his lips but refused to come out.

Silence stretched between the two of you like an invisible thread, frayed and threatening to snap.

You watched him, feeling the quiet tension building with each passing second, the way his shoulders tensed as if bracing for something inevitable.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, but it was quieter than usual, missing the playful tone you were so used to. "It's ugly, isn't it?"

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see his profile-not the charming, ostentatious façade he so carefully crafted, but something stripped down to its core. His expression was haunted, eyes filled with a vulnerability that made your chest ache.

His hand moved slowly to his neck, fingers hesitating as they brushed over the black choker that always adorned his throat. You had seen him wear it countless times before, a part of his image, something that screamed control and allure. But now, as he pulled the fabric down just slightly, it revealed a truth far more painful.

There, above his collarbone, etched deep into his golden skin, was a brand. An intricate mark, one that seemed both ancient and cruel, its edges rough from years of healing but never quite fading. It marred his otherwise flawless appearance-a slave mark.

You didn't know what to say. You'd heard whispers before, about Aventurine's past, about the things he kept hidden under layers of charm and confidence. But seeing it now, so raw and real, it shattered something inside you.

Aventurine's eyes met yours, those striking magenta and cyan hues that usually sparkled with mischief now clouded with desperation. He seemed to search your face, looking for something, anything-maybe reassurance, maybe understanding. But you could see how hard this moment was for him.

"It's a constant reminder of what I once was... of what I couldn't control," he said, his voice strained, as though the words were pulling something out of him he had long buried. His hand still hovered over the mark, fingers trembling slightly. "No matter how far I've come, it's still there. It'll always be there."

He turned fully now, facing you, his usual composure shattered into pieces at your feet. The Aventurine you knew-the risk-taker, the gambler, the man who laughed in the face of danger-was gone. In his place stood someone raw, exposed, carrying the weight of something far too heavy to bear alone."And who am I now?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Who am I, when this is still a part of me?" His fingers dug into the skin near the mark, as though trying to erase it, but only succeeding in leaving angry red lines.

You moved toward him, instinct driving you to comfort, to help. But something in his eyes stopped you. There was a desperation there that you couldn't quite reach, a hollow emptiness that you couldn't fill.

He stepped back slightly, shaking his head, his breath coming out in uneven gasps. "No," he muttered, almost to himself. "Don't... don't come closer."

Your heart ached, and you could feel your throat tighten as you watched him. You knew how much this was tearing him apart-this mark, this reminder of a life where he had no control, no agency, where his worth was decided by someone else.

"I built everything I have... every gamble, every risk I took... to escape this." His voice grew harsher, tinged with self-loathing. "But no matter what I win, no matter how high I climb, it's still there, reminding me of who I really am. A mark of ownership. A brand of someone else's control."

The tears that you had been holding back started to sting your eyes, but you blinked them away, knowing he didn't need your pity. What he needed was... you weren't even sure. He looked so lost, so hollow.

"What do I have, if I'm still nothing more than a slave in my own skin?" Aventurine's voice cracked on the word, and his hand fell away from the mark, leaving it exposed, raw in the golden light. "What do I have, if all of this is just a way to cover up who I've always been? A reminder that no matter what I do, I'll never be free of it."

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to form words that could soothe the pain pouring out of him. He wasn't asking for comfort. He wasn't asking for anything other than the truth he already knew, the one he could never escape.

"I'm always betting," he whispered, voice barely audible. "Betting that maybe this time... maybe this one gamble... will make me forget. But I don't forget. I can't."

The silence that followed felt deafening, crushing. Aventurine stood there, his vibrant eyes dulled by the weight of years of trauma, his body trembling ever so slightly in the stillness of the room. There was nothing more you could say-no words that could heal this deep, festering wound that had followed him for so long.

And as he pulled his choker back up, covering the mark once more, it was as if he was putting the mask back on too-locking away that vulnerable part of himself that you had just glimpsed.

But you knew, even as he straightened his posture and forced a ghost of a smile onto his lips, that this wound would never heal.

It would always be there.

And all you could do was watch as Aventurine, with all his charm and bravado, retreated back into the man he needed to be-a man still haunted by the chains of his past.

But even behind the mask, you would always know what lay beneath.