#opposite attract

[aventurineswife]

Anaxa with a reader who acts like a mitigation unit for whenever he says something blasphemous and leaves people wanting to punch him lmao

The reader is soft-spoken and gentler in disposition (much like castorice) and not exactly on par with him in terms of ingenuity, so some people wonder how they ended up together. But eh, who cares? Anaxa loves them anyways. Though, spending time with him is not good for their heart since whenever he states something outrageous, the reader will chime in with a "he doesn't mean that" and attempt to smoothen the tension, only for this dromas loving nerd to ruin the peace by spouting something like "no, actually, I meant every word I say" and the reader just stares up at the heavens, gaze resigned, and inwardly prays that they won't be stoned to death in that very moment

Bonus if they're taller than anaxa. I just think it would be cute if the reader has to constantly bend down whenever anaxa has something to say. Just the overall trope of the tall one being meek and withdrawn while the short one is feisty and outspoken

“He doesn’t mean that… I think”

Summary: You're the tall, soft-spoken partner of Anaxagoras—the infamous scholar with a talent for making blasphemous statements that nearly get you both stoned on a regular basis. While he fearlessly challenges gods and sages with wild theories and cutting wit, you're always close behind, offering polite smiles, calming words, and the occasional desperate "he doesn’t mean that." Despite your gentler nature and quieter intellect, Anaxa is fiercely devoted to you, pulling you into his chaotic orbit with unwavering affection. It’s loud, it’s intense, and your spine might just be made of divine patience.

Tags: Anaxagorus x Reader, Opposites Attract, Height Difference, Chaotic Genius x Soft-Tall Partner, Damage Control Partner, Romantic Tension, Emotional Vulnerability, Found Family Elements, Slow Burn (Implied), Philosophical Drama, “He Doesn’t Mean That” Energy, Protective Reader.

Warnings: Themes Of Death And Loss, Mentions Of Religious And Academic Conflict, Blasphemy (Fictional Context), Light Emotional Angst, Mild Language, Potential Reader Endangerment (Non-Graphic, Played For Irony/Humor), Anaxagorus being Anaxagorus.

A/N: I love this man, can you tell? 😋💚

It always starts with him saying something he absolutely shouldn’t.

The atmosphere in the courtyard of the Grove is as tense as a taut bowstring. A gathering of scholars and disciples encircle the infamous Anaxagoras, their faces twitching with barely concealed disdain, curiosity, or both. And there you are, standing right beside him like a loyal, bewildered lighthouse in the middle of an academic storm.

“…And that, my dear sages,” Anaxa declares, arms dramatically flared, coat swishing like some peacock possessed by hubris, “is why divine authority is nothing but an inherited illusion. If a god needs worship to maintain power, is it not merely a glorified parasite?”

Silence.

Not a respectful kind of silence. The "someone-is-about-to-throw-a-chair" kind of silence.

You blink. Smile nervously. And step in, gently placing a hand on Anaxa’s shoulder—he’s still mid-pose, soaking in the shocked silence like it’s validation—and clear your throat. You lean forward slightly, voice as gentle as spring rain.

“He doesn’t mean that.”

“I do,” Anaxa replies immediately, not even turning to look at you. “And if anyone disagrees, they’re welcome to explain how an all-powerful being managed to trip over the concept of mortality.”

You don't even sigh anymore. You just look up at the skies, lips silently mouthing the names of all the gods, hoping one of them has a sense of humor.

People often ask how the two of you ended up together.

You, the serene, quiet mitigation unit who wears soft colors and softer expressions. Him, the sharp-tongued philosopher whose idea of a romantic date involves reading banned texts and dismantling holy logic.

“They're not even on the same wavelength,” someone once whispered, watching you gently tug Anaxa back from yet another oncoming theological brawl. “How does it even work?”

You weren’t sure either.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes soften when you’re the one holding the scalpel during a shared experiment. Or how he lets you tie his ponytail every morning, mumbling critiques about symmetry but never actually fixing it. Or how he always looks for you in a room before he speaks—to see if you're there to watch the world burn with him.

Maybe it’s just love. Bizarre, inexplicable love.

Even if that love occasionally comes with public threats of excommunication.

You’re taller than him, of course. He pretends not to notice. But when he speaks, you always instinctively lean down just slightly, hands politely folded, like you’re giving a particularly chaotic child your full attention.

“Listen,” he says one day, post-lecture, voice low and dramatic, “I’ve discovered a correlation between Titan souls and the latent fear gods have of mortality. My next paper will be titled ‘The Cowards in the Sky.’”

You stare at him. Then glance nervously at the passing sages.

“He doesn’t mean that,” you murmur.

“I do,” Anaxa snaps, tilting his head up at you with that familiar glint of mischief and defiance. “And if I vanish in the middle of the night, assume they finally sent divine assassins. You’ll avenge me, won’t you?”

You rub your temple. “I’ll try to negotiate.”

“And you call yourself devoted,” he mutters, smug.

Still, for all the chaos he invites, Anaxa clings to you like a man who has seen too much fire and finds comfort in quiet.

When the nights are cold and long, he curls against you like he’s hiding from ghosts, his left hand resting just above yours. Sometimes, in those fragile hours, he whispers the names of people who aren’t alive anymore. Sometimes, he whispers yours like it's the only name he trusts to stay.

You don’t always understand the depth of his genius. You don’t have to.

You’re there. That’s enough.

You ground him, and occasionally save both your lives from being pelted by rocks.

“I’ve concluded,” Anaxa says one day, while reclining on your lap beneath a half-dead tree, “that your spine must be made of divine patience.”

You smile faintly, brushing a strand of mint hair from his face.

“And I’ve concluded,” you reply, voice barely audible, “that your mouth is going to get us killed one day.”

He laughs.

“You love me, still?”

You lean down slowly, forehead resting against his.

“Unfortunately,” you whisper.

And he grins.

“Good. That makes two of us.”

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 (𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑛𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 #1) 🐂🫀

✍🏽: 𝐄𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫

[sheep-turtles-and-pizza]

Nyx and Neilos give me Sid and Manny from Ice Age 2 vibes like

Neilos: *dead exhausted with the world and shenanigans of brothers and being responsible when all he wants is a good swim and big fish* So, you think she's the girl for me? Nyx: *affectionate and mischievous little sh*t who is beyond thrilled to see something new on his brothers face and is NEVER above storing the pot* Oh, yeah, she's tons of fun, and you're no fun at all. She "completes" you.

LMAOO You're not wrong XD

Neil just keep grumbling while Nyx keeps teasing him about it.

April is watching from a distance all ???, but definitely can tell they're talking about her XD

[blacksapphicguide]

First Kill (TV series)

2020s TV series | 1 seasons (Cancelled). Fantasy, drama, romance.

Plot points:

Vampire x vampire killer trope.

Vampire fantasy.

Supernatural world.

Family dynamics.

Enemies to lover romance.

Teen-high school romance.

Interracial lesbian couple (main).

Black sapphic characters:

Calliope "Cal" Burns [lesbian] Imani Lewis

Connections:

Calliope x Juliette - Calliette (interracial lesbian)

Sex & Nudity - Mild

Violence & Gore - Moderate

Abusive parents - death threats, choking, and slapping their children.

Staking.

Drinking of blood from (vampire) victims.

Profanity - Mild

Use of the word fuck, bitch, hell, etc.

Alcohol, Drugs & Smoking - Mild

Alcohol: social drinking.

Underaged drinking.

Teen drug use.

Frightening & Intense Scenes - Very Mild

[glitchycatforever]

The night and the energetic one

A rare pair was born.

Still wonder if there someone out there who also ship it.

Anyway have a nice day/evening/night 💜

[ratwithspaghetti]

Head empty, only Kyouten

[beargyufairy]

You can be the hero

I can be the monster

[xruiiii-blog]

swissalps. UGH. How can they be the exact opposite but so similar at the same time I can’t even explain. It’s all so gentle but intense…I think I’m going mad.

[nerdygirlwithanxiety]

~the first date ~

[potekosblog]

"Light and dark, angel and demon even diametrically opposed were fated to be drawn together so romantic"

THE AUTHOR GETS IT

[melancholypancakes]

Welcome Home Human AU: Uptown girl

It’s not confirmed in OG but Brienne is from a wealthy family in other AUs she is :)

I just love interracial and opposite attract relationships so i put both with Wally and Brienne

Brienne as a human is white and she is a descendant from France, she lives in a estate with her family in this au much like the actor au.

It has been confirmed by clown The Welcome home neighbors are Black as humans.

I also like the fact of a rich girl in a relationship with a poor boy or just a guy not as rich as her.

Brienne has the same chill and sweet personality in the human au and loves to try downtown or what opposite of her uptown society.

She loves messy food and circus rides. She may or may not have a crush on Wally 👀👀

[aventurineswife]

Hi! I love your writing smm <3 Hope you have a great day

If you dont mind, can I request an Aventurine fic with a reader who isn't used to interacting with others (socially awkward, stumble upon their words often)? Thank you!

Between Trust and Treachery

Summary: At a grand and opulent gala brimming with power and pretense, you feel out of place, awkwardly navigating an environment you’d rather avoid. Your discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by Aventurine, a dazzling yet sharp-tongued stranger that seem to pierce through your soul. Intrigued by your authenticity in a room full of masks, he offers you a quiet escape and a surprising proposition: to teach you how to navigate the games of power and deception. As the conversation unfolds, you find yourself caught between uncertainty and curiosity, unable to resist his magnetic pull.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Social Dynamics, Court Intrigue, Mysterious Stranger, Opposites Attract, Mentorship, Subtle Tension.

Warnings: Light Manipulation and Power Imbalance, Themes of Social Anxiety and Discomfort.

The grand ballroom was a whirlwind of polished marble, glittering chandeliers, and muted chatter. A testament to IPC’s opulence, it was a space that seemed designed to overwhelm anyone unfamiliar with its games of power and pretense. You, however, had no desire to play. Just the thought of navigating the crowd made you tug at the edges of your formal attire, regretting the decision to attend.

You didn’t belong here. Your tongue twisted over greetings; every attempt at polite conversation felt like a stumble through a verbal minefield. Yet, duty—or rather, someone’s suggestion that you “mingle for professional growth”—had dragged you into the lion’s den.

A hand lightly brushed your shoulder, a weightless touch that nonetheless froze you in place.

“Pardon me,” came a rich, lilting voice. You turned, only to meet magenta and cyan eyes flecked with secrets and mischief, framed by the slitted pupils of someone whose gaze seemed to read more than what you said. “But I couldn’t help noticing you seem rather... misplaced.”

He smiled, dazzling but sharp, and every nerve in your body screamed that this man, Aventurine—you reminded yourself—was someone far beyond your ability to handle.

“Oh, um... I, uh—” The words tangled before they could leave your throat. His grin widened.

“Perfect,” he purred, stepping closer, his attire glinting with gold accents as he moved. “No one plays a better hand than the one who doesn’t realize they’re in the game. Shall we talk?”

“I—what?” You blinked, unsure whether he was complimenting or insulting you.

“You don’t have to speak,” he said smoothly, tilting his head. A peacock feather ornament on his hat caught the light. “Your expression says plenty. A rookie among predators, floundering, but oh, so fascinating.” He tapped his chin with a theatrical air. “Though I admit, I might be projecting. You do look like someone trying not to flee.”

You laughed awkwardly, unsure how else to respond. “That obvious, huh?”

“Darling, obvious is my specialty.” His voice dipped lower, conspiratorial. “But don’t fret. I find it endearing.”

He motioned toward the side of the room, where velvet drapes shielded a quieter alcove. You hesitated.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he added, his smile softening ever so slightly. “I’m not asking for your trust. Just your company. Even I can tire of this charade.” He gestured at the bustling crowd, his tone betraying a faint but unmistakable disdain.

Against your better judgment, you followed him. The quiet corner felt like an oasis, though the man sharing it with you exuded enough intensity to make up for the silence.

“So,” Aventurine began, leaning against the wall, “what brought you to this gala of lies and alliances? Certainly not the socializing.”

“No, I...” You fidgeted with your sleeve. “I mean, someone suggested I should, um, network. But I’m not good at—”

“Ah, the old ‘step outside your comfort zone’ nonsense,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “As if comfort isn’t what makes us thrive.”

You blinked, startled by his bluntness. “I... guess so?”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze almost too focused. Then, as if sensing your discomfort, he broke into a softer smile. “You intrigue me. You’re honest in your awkwardness. Most people here wear masks, yet you...” He gestured vaguely toward you, his rings catching the light. “You stumble, falter, and still manage to be more authentic than anyone in this room.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” you muttered.

“Oh, it’s definitely a compliment.” Aventurine’s grin returned, razor-sharp. “You’re refreshing. A puzzle in a world of pretentious pawns. That’s a rarity.”

Heat crept up your face, and you looked away. “I’m not... anything special.”

“Ah!” He clapped his hands together lightly. “And yet, you underestimate yourself. A classic move.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Do you know the secret to winning a game? Most people think it’s about control, but it’s not. It’s about making others underestimate you.”

“I uh... I don’t think I’m playing any games,” you replied weakly.

He chuckled, rich and low. “You are, whether you realize it or not. But don’t worry.” He straightened, adjusting his hat with a casual flair. “I’ll teach you.”

“Teach me?” You blinked up at him, confused.

“Of course. Consider it an investment in your potential. You’ll find I’m quite the tutor.” His eyes gleamed. “And who knows? You might even surprise me.”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but the sheer confidence in his tone left no room for argument. “Why... why would you...?”

“Because I enjoy a good gamble.” His enigmatic smile softened into something almost genuine. “And you, darling, are a gamble worth taking.”

For the first time that evening, you found yourself smiling back, even if just a little.

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏, 𝑻𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒔 (𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑔𝑜 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 #2) 🏈🤠

✍🏽: 𝐒𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬

[hiidkwhatimdoing7525]

I still don’t know how they manage to fall in love 🫠

Also there is that one shitty Harry Potter reference in there, see if you can spot it.

[edenparkway]

[randomwriteups26]

Two impossible persons became best friends, and atlast two opposite personalities became two body one soul...

"As opposite always attracts"

@moonstonechampagne @broken-fingers @basicallymihika @misssclumsy @vomentallyunstableladka @paapi @thelailasblog @chastic-carina