Honkai Star: Rail x Reader Oneshots

"You hug me tightly as if it's just a sweet dream" | Aventurine x Reader

Summary: After an intimate moment, Aventurine allows himself to be vulnerable, confessing how much he treasures the rare comfort of being loved without conditions. You embrace him tightly, offering reassurance and unconditional love as you share a quiet, tender moment that helps him begin to heal from his past.

Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Intimacy Cuddling, Emotional Vulnerability, Slow Burn Healing, Implied Past Trauma, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Brief mentions of Aventurine’s traumatic past, Themes of vulnerability and recovery from emotional trauma.

The room was cloaked in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains, casting faint patterns on the walls. The quiet hum of the city outside blended into the peaceful stillness inside, broken only by the sound of slow, steady breaths. Aventurine lay beside you, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-lidded with a rare sense of vulnerability.

His arm draped lazily across your waist, his fingertips tracing absent patterns on your bare skin. The intimacy of the moment felt fragile, as if speaking too loudly would shatter it. He wore his usual post-mischief grin, but there was a softness in his expression, a naked honesty he rarely revealed to anyone but you.

“You know…” Aventurine’s voice was low, his usual sharpness dulled by the haze of afterglow. “It’s nice. This.”

You tilted your head slightly to look at him, catching the way his eyes seemed to drift, not quite meeting yours. His fingers paused their lazy movements, his hand now resting warm and steady on your side.

“It’s nice to just… enjoy a moment,” he continued, his tone uncharacteristically somber. “Not to think about what’s next or what I need to win. Just this.”

His words settled between you like a confession, carrying a weight that wasn’t immediately apparent. You could hear the unspoken truth in his voice, the years of calculating every move, every risk, every wager. The memories of a past where he’d been treated as nothing more than a tool, a piece on someone else’s chessboard.

Your chest tightened. You reached out without a word, pulling him close, wrapping him in an embrace that was as much for you as it was for him. Aventurine didn’t resist, his body folding against yours as if he had been waiting for that very moment of solace.

He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders melting away under your touch. His head rested against your chest, and you felt his fingers grip you just a little tighter, his calm facade momentarily slipping.

“You’re too good to me, you know?” he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin.

“You deserve this.” you replied, your voice firm but gentle.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Aventurine’s breathing grew slower, more even, but you knew he wasn’t asleep. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way he clung to you—it wasn’t just exhaustion. It was trust.

“Sometimes…” he began again, voice barely audible, “I wonder what it’d be like if I’d known this kind of comfort before. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did.”

You hugged him tighter, your heart breaking at the rawness in his voice. “You’re not defined by your past,” you whispered. “You’re here now, and you’re loved.”

His fingers brushed your back, an unspoken thank-you in the way he touched you. Aventurine pressed a soft kiss against your collarbone, a gesture so tender it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“I’ll admit,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I didn’t think I’d ever get this. You make life feel… worth the risk.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand cupping his face. His eyes finally met yours, and in them, you saw a flicker of something rare: hope.

“You’re worth it too.” you said simply.

For the first time, Aventurine didn’t have a quick, witty retort. Instead, he leaned into your touch, letting himself feel the weight of your words. And for that night, the strategist, the gambler, the broken boy who had clawed his way out of the ashes, allowed himself to be held—not as a piece in a game, but as someone worthy of love and peace.