#citrine responds

[citrinesparkles]

late as HELL but thank you @yourlocalcringydaydreamer for tagging me literally months ago. jesus.

last song i listened to: cycles - s-ilo + hussain ali

favorite color: blue! mostly deeper shades. i'm really into neon colors right now, especially blue and pink

last movie: rise of the tmnt! comfort movie <3 with SUCH delicious colors omg

currently watching: nothing consistent- i've been in a weird space mentally, so i'm just watching whatever sounds good at bedtime!

sweet/spicy/savory: i'm a big fan of flavors In General, so like, all of them HJKFHJKD. but if i had to pick i'd go sweet!

relationship status: single!

current obsession: i'm kinda all over the place right now, kinda just bouncing between interests. b u t i have been getting into gifmaking again and thats nearly an obsession atp. consuming photopea tutorials by the fist full.

last thing i googled: "macguffin" to see if i was spelling it correctly. google was conflicted. some people say it's a mc. some say it's a mac. i decided to go with mc because it was one less letter to type.

zero pressure tags!!: @red-hood-redemption, @stevebabey, @magicalbeanie. hope y'all are well <3

[jesusbutbetterrr]

fuck anon

you collect rocks

*twirls a lock of my hair around my finger and bats my eyes*

Yea

[auragasmics]

HE LOVES IT WHEN I...

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ synopsis! sugar daddies have a sweet tooth for all their sugar babies. but for you, these rich dilfs are ready to spoil you rotten for all your cute quirks!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ pairings! sugar daddy bokuto koutarou, ushijima waktoshi, and akaashi keiji x fem! reader

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ cw! 1.7k, drabble + headcannon format, age gap (hq men are early 40s, reader is late 20s), car sex, oral ( m -> f), daddy kink, backshots, fingering, mirror sex, teasing, slight degrading, use of petnames

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! sigh...i love bokuto sm! he can eat me 25/8. ushi can too!

pt.1

Sugardaddy!Bokuto loves it when you say thank you.

It turns him on to unbelievable lengths. It follows the same old routine, one he doesn’t plan to change anytime soon. Each time you accepted yet another bag filled with your latest hauls, you turned to the doting man, his hand eagerly waiting to catch your own. 

With a faint smile present on your lips, the soft coos of your voice rose to Bokuto’s ear, coaxing for his copal hues to widen. The pair of words were simple mannerisms, instilled from a young age for all. But whenever it rolled off your tongue, the porcelain shades of Bokuto’s skin couldn’t hold back the innocent hues of red from surfacing. 

All he needed to hear was your pretty mouth say it one more time that day, just once more. 

“Aht, don’t push my head away. That’s just mean,” Bokuto pouted, the pads of his fingers digging into the limp plush of your calves. He’s got all his weigh on you, pushing you down onto the backseat of his car. You winced mindlessly, your hazy eyes flickering among the space Bokuto occupied between your legs. Your fingers lazily carded through his locks, strength dwindling by the second.

 “B-Bo…I can’t take anymore,” you slurred, resting your head along the sleek platinum headboard. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what snapped inside Bokuto, his insistence leading to you gasping for a lick of air. He didn’t give you time to slip from the citrine dress you wore, only to be bunched around your bucking hips. 

“‘M so sorry, Princess. You just looked so good today, I wanted a piece of you,” he mumbled incoherently, his busy lips latching onto the twitching bud of your clit. He's relentless, working the slicked muscles to paint sticky strokes along the bud.  

He’d been tucked away in his own heaven, relishing in every drop of your essence that spilled into his mouth. He pulled at least three orgasms from you this way, each one slower than the last. 

“Wait–I can’t cum again, Bokuto please!” you sobbed, your back forcing out a harsh arch. You frantically nudged yourself deeper into Bokuto’s hold, your hips swiping at whatever could be caught. 

Sharing in your urgency, Bokuto kept his tongue pressed into your folds, the voids of his eyes taking in the sight before him. He always did love when you chased after your own high, using him however you saw fit. 

He pulled his hindering grip from your legs, allowing for your thighs to smother him in a swift close. Not another syllable had to be uttered as you approached your high, both hands grasping handfuls of Bokuto’s hair. 

A bubbling fit of words fled from your lips, Bokuto giggling at the view. He drew himself from your cunt, placing a final kiss onto the exposed bundle of nerves. He rested back onto his haunches, keeping his hunkering figure hovered above your own. 

As he swiped the pad of his thumb along the spit-ridden mess of your lips, he whispered to your dazed visage gently. “Be nice and use your words. Now, what do you say fr’ me, Baby?”

Through your heavy lashes, you mustered the bits of energy to respond, granting a satisfied smirk to creep onto Bokuto’s face.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Sugardaddy!Ushijima loves it when you spend his money.

God, does he love it? The swipes of his card, the sifting through the thick bills tucked away in his wallet, Ushijima was addicted to it all. He didn’t even have to say a word, your hand already reaching for whatever mode of payment he had for the day. 

You weren’t aware of it, but there was a special glint that illuminated the olive hues of his eyes. Maybe it was how you twirled the thin sheet of plastic between your fingers, whistling some tune to pass the moments of processing. 

He was obsessed with the fact that every heel beneath the soles of your feet, every ring that hugged your finger, and every dress that clung to your body was all his doing, all stemming from the fruits of his labor. 

When that gratifying giggle rang from your throat, it was enough to fuel a flame within Ushijima’s belly—something he knew would be extinguished soon.

“I can’t hear you, Sweetheart,” Ushijima groaned, his hand prying from your stuttering hips. You lifted your head from the tear-stained pillow, pulling the swell of your lip through your teeth. “It’s so fucking good, Toshi! I w-want more,” you keened, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

Ushijima returned to the sight laid before him, the plump curves of your ass pressed against his tensed abdomen. Tracing down the arch of your spine, he was met with the glassy voids of your lidded eyes, spools of drool decorating your lips. 

Taking a provoking turn, he drew his hips from their post, dragging his length from your walls. He chuckled at the sound of your cries, the sadist whims surfacing to the forefront of Ushijima’s mind.

“C’mon Baby, you gotta work for all those bags you got today,” he surmised, landing a playful smack on your ass. The mewling whimpers from your lungs came to a sudden halt once you noticed what Ushijima held in the palm of his hand.

The hefty stack of blue bills sat snug in his hand, waving them to your gawking glance. “If you can make me cum just like this, I’ll add everything in my hand to your allowance,” Ushijima wagered snarkily. “Deal?”

With a sheepish nod, you agreed to take on Ushijima’s bet, planting your weakened knees into the mattress. A heavy breath brewed inside your lungs, acting as encouragement for your newly placed endeavors. Ushijima knew all too well how big he was, considering he was always so insistent on taking charge. 

Yet watching his pretty girl struggle to take him was just one of his favorite pastimes as of late.

With the single dive of your hips, your walls enveloped Ushijima’s cock in the viscid warmth once more. A stout arch coaxed itself into your spine as a keening sob sang from your lips. An overwhelming euphoria was placed upon your weary body, stemming from fullness residing within your cunt. Your digits dug into the cotton plush of the pillow, barely grounding your mind.

“Fuck–you must really want it, don’t you Baby?” Ushijima chuckled raggedly, the faint patterns of stars clouding his vision. He hadn’t anticipated your eagerness, the swift drops of your hips resting against his flexed abdomen. He felt everything, every twitch of your walls, every roll of your hips, even every kiss the head of his cock pressed into your cervix. 

The explicit clash of skin began the soft comforting tunes to Ushijima’s ears, hiding his blissful whimpers behind the music. His eyes were trained to the unfolding scene, from tracing the slick sheen of sweat dusting the curve of your back to catching each wave that passed through the supple skin of your ass. Reminding of something that of a fever dream, Ushijima melded into the amorous aura, quickly forgetting the bet he’d made with you. 

Giving in to his fading sense of self, Ushijima drizzled the stack of bills along your body, each one drifting to cover the sheets beneath you both. With his hand now free, Ushijima reached out to you, cupping your chin as he presented you with a single rhetorical question. 

“Who’s my rich little slut?”

Sugardaddy! Akaashi loves it when you flaunt your new clothes.

He finds it to be the highlight of his day. It’s even become his sense of downtime from the frantic day, hopping from shop to shop all across the city. He’ll sit in his favorite leather armchair with a cup of the richest brandy in hand, watching your giddy reflection paraded about through the mirror. 

“Don’t you look pretty? Told you this color suits you best, Sweetheart,” Akaashi cooed, his chin nuzzled within the crook of your neck. You couldn’t bother to respond to his compliment, not with his thick digits drawing relaxed circles along the supple bud of your clit. You clawed at his forearm in protest, the silk fabric of his dress shirt catching each scratch of your nails.

Perched atop his lap, Akaashi kept your thighs parted for his entertainment, his eyes pinned to the mirror’s reflection. He admired it all, the staggering rises and falls of your chest, your trembling lips, and the spilling streams of spit lining your chin. He only wished you could revel in the same vision he bore witness to. 

At his tender handling, your body melted into Akaashi’s hold. From the frantic beats of your heart, the nerves beneath your skin prickling with need, and the hot pants warming the air, it was all for him. Your back arched against his chest, squirming amidst the mind-numbing solace Akaashi delivered. 

“Look at that, making such a mess on my fingers,” he hummed, the tips of his digits ghosting the fluttering slit of your cunt. He allowed for a single finger to graze past your entrance, the lewd squelching spurring you on. “P-Please Keiji…don’t tease me like that. Just–” you sobbed, your hips bucking to meet his fleeting touch. 

“Sorry, baby. Not until you tell me how pretty you are,” he whispered, painting your limped jaw with lingering pecks. Drifting down to the pulse of your throat, Akaashi nipped at the skin, leaving the slightest hints of marks in his stead. 

His calming tone flew to your ear, earning your hazed attention. “Look in the mirror and repeat after me,” he instructed softly. You nodded concurringly, the lids of your eyes prying from their screwed hold. 

You were met with Akaashi’s narrowed glare, the darkened hues of his eyes pinned on you. Embarrassment rang through you, eyes glazing over your pitiful state. What caught your immediate attention was the ruby dress he’d just purchased sitting around your waist. 

Not to mention the pornographic sight of your cunt on full display for him, inducing for a merciful whimper to creep out your lungs. 

Yet for Akaashi, his own concern was hearing that voice of your repeat every word that soon left from his mouth. “I’m Akaashi’s…” he began, waiting for your frail reply.

“I’m Akaashi’s…” you uttered shyly, the inescapable heat swarming beneath your cheeks. He noticed your resistance, matching it with lingering swipes of his digits between your glossed folds. 

“Pretty Girl. I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” he compiled together, shifting back into his seat patiently. You swallowed the lump sitting in your throat, bundling the bits of energy to comply with his wishes. 

“I-I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” you whimpered out at last, granting a smile to spread along his lips.

“That’s my good girl. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: i’m a good look on you

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: M / NSFW

genre: angstish… romance

pairing: lucifer x reader

summary: with lilith back in the picture you tried very hard to keep the small, jealous voices away. but as she, charlie and lucifer all laugh at something at a party and he hand holds his shoulder, it’s hard to keep the green eyed monster away today.

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Smut under the keep reading, Minors DNI.

as you sipped your martini from the couch, you watched as lucifer and charlie were talking animatedly about something that tickled their fancy. a content smile stretching across your face, seeing your partner finally get along with his child, like you knew they would. charlie needed him, he needed charlie. what they didn’t need was her.

the woman who was gliding up to them, put her hands on both their shoulders and bent down, saying something that made both charlie and lucifer laugh. it was true, when lilith returned, she had explained that she had been gone for seven years and effectively, her and lucifer were divorced. you were amicable, polite and kind consistently to the woman, as you knew how much she meant to charlie. but there was an ugly feeling that reared its ugly head as you watched her grasp lucifer’s shoulder and he laughed so gleefully with them. 

you diverted your attention, sipping your drink again and watching husk put on what looked like a magic show for angel. as you got lost in thought, you were yanked back down to reality as lucifer came over and sat on the arm of your chair. 

“whatcha lookin’ at darlin’?” he asked, his cheeks tinged red.

“just watching husk and angel, they’re cute together.” you respond back with an easy smile, your hand lifting and resting high on lucifer’s thigh. his eyes widening at your brazen display.

“h-honey?” he asks, bewildered.

“hmmmmm?” you hum, slowly looking up at him and taking a sip of your drink.

“what’re…” his voice trailed off. 

“making sure everyone here knows what’s mine, love.” you say easily, pressing a kiss against his neck while you tightened the grasp on his thigh. “could i pull you away from this party for just a moment, my king?” you ask lowly. you see him gulp as he tries to appear fine to everyone.

“yes.” he exhales out, relaxing when you lean away and take your hand off his thigh. “yes, you may.” he responds as you stand up, finish your drink and hold out your hand waiting for him. he takes your hand and you lead him quickly upstairs, hearing angel whistle after both of you, you shake your head. quickly heading to the bed room, you open the door for lucifer as he walks in looking at you questioningly. 

“did i do something? you look upset.” he says coming toward you.

“you didn’t do anything to upset me luce. i just…” you sigh as you drag your hand through your hair, stress peeling off you now that you weren't the the middle of a party. you look in his citrine eyes and smile. “it seems so silly when you’re staring at me the way you are now.” you close the distance between you both and cup his face. his eyes widen in understanding.

“darling, you know…” he starts and you cut him off.

“i know. i know. i do know. it’s just hard, to look at you three and see how well you fit together and not feel like i’m the extra puzzle piece.” your voice comes out like a whisper as you tilt your head down, not wanting to actually look in his eyes.

“you’re not an extra puzzle piece. we weren't a puzzle that fit well either. maybe in some aspects, but not in the ones that end up counting for a relationship." lucifer shakes his head, "i mean, you’re the one who put me back together. i’m whole because of you. because of your love. i’m yours darling. nothin��� can change that.” lucifer easily lifts your head, looking into your eyes with a suave smile. you grin at him.

“you’re mine?” you ask, your voice an octave lower.

“all yours. however you want me.” he leans into you. “however you need me.” his voice is whispered past your ear and you shiver when his tongue traces the outer cartilage of your ear. your arms wrap around him easily as his name is growled out from your lips and he chuckles.

“how do you want me? hmmm, my love?” he asks, looking at you with half lidded eyes, your breathing fast against his face. you whine, barely containing yourself as you lift him straight up and fling yourself sitting on the bed. you situate him so he’s straddling you, giving him a height advantage as your hands settle on his hips. you quickly draw him into a kiss, feeling his tongue dart out asking for access. you allow him as your right hand trails from his hip to his ass, up his back and anchors in his hair, giving a slight pull. his cry engulfed by your kiss as you tug once more, your hands going back to his hips, guiding his rocking against your thigh.

you pull back, taking a breath as he bites his lip, trying to stay quiet. you stop his rocking and he looks at you upset and bewildered. 

“don’t silence yourself. i want everyone in this hotel to know who’s making you feel like this.” you rock his hips against you punctuating the sentence. “who takes care of you.” you rock his hips against your thigh again, applying more pressure. “who put you back together…” you whisper against his ear as he cries out, your hands guiding his pliant hips relentlessly against your thigh.

“oh-oh-i-it’s too much. please! i-“ he cuts himself off with a moan. 

“it’s not too much. or else you would have used your safe word.” you grin as his pretty eyes shine with shed tears. 

“i-i’m going to… oh-please!” he cries out.

“you’re going to cum? hmmmm, luci? tell everyone who’s making you feel like this. say it. scream my name.” you growl against him, quickening his rutting against you. he screams your name as his release is confined in his clothes and he collapses into you, breathing heavily.

you smile and pet his head, pushing back his hair and dragging your fingers against his scalp. him almost purring in your lap. you were about to speak, breaking the silence, when suddenly a knock interrupted you.

“ummm, hey, dad?” you hear charlie ask. your eyes widen.

“um, yeah-“ lucifer clears his throat as his voice came out much higher than intended. “yea-yeah, charlie?” 

“people are wanting to talk to you and have asked for you. so, you need to come back to the party!” charlie exclaims.

“i’ll be right there sweetie!” lucifer yells and you both wait until you can no longer hear footsteps any more. you sigh as lucifer gets off your lap and snaps his fingers looking strikingly put together. not at all like he had been begging to get off on your thigh moments before. you get up, smoothing out your dress when he snaps his fingers and your outfit is neatly put together too. you look at him and smile. 

“i owe you later.” he looks you up and down, his eyes settling on yours.

“c’mon, party awaits for you, my king.” you tease him walking out as you shake your head, his cheeks turn bright red at the title you casually use to address him. “i’ll be holding you to what you said too.” you raise your eye brows a few times. he rolls his eyes and grabs your hand.

“stay by my side, okay?” he asks, before you both go down stairs. you beam at him and nod, both of you making a re-entrance to the party.

[citrinesparkles]

WHAT a list omg! honored to be included 🥰🥰🥰

do you have any batboy x reader blog recs?

BOY DO I--

This is practically a list of people I've interacted with on this hellsite as fellow writers. I'm more of a batfam non-reader insert fic reader so I have wayyyyy more recommendations under that genre.

@unmotivatedwrit3r

@quillsareswords

@citrinesparkles

@birdy-bat-writes

@anothertimdrakestan

@internalsealpanic

[skele-bunny]

I am once again thinking about Phantom and him being shown more Quintessence culture by the elders...

CW - Heavy implications of abuse and slavery (but this is a fluff post! Also trauma healing for Phantom fr)

Bug has 0 fucking idea on his culture, only what he knows in his kithood and then learning from the others topside. He knows enough about their harmonies with the inner souls and connection to the astral. Phantom was taught by his captor about the importance of wind chimes and crystals, but beyond that? Nothing. No ceremonies, no basic breaking, nadda.

The Quintessence Ghouls enjoy getting together twice a month in the abbeys chapter house, and they go all out with it. It's clothing free but never sexual, just embracing their natural bodies and even their true forms. Ether ghouls even in the pits wore jewelry and body chains, they're decorative and very focused on the bodies.

Painting down multiple sigils around the room, with a giant one of protection on the floor where they meditate. Placing wind chimes near the windows and above the curtains, grounded amethyst near entrances and once again around the floor sigil. Candles lit around, incense sticks, and right in the middle being black tourmaline also in a powder form.

Phantom just sitting next to Swiss and Aether, trying to stop his laughter as they rub the tourmaline over his torso and back, then right down his forehead. He's lead by Aether on how to put it on him, whispering encouragements.

"Keep your attitude positive. When you place tourmaline on someone, your intentions matter. It's a double ended sword-- it can defend or it can put you as a target."

Since Phantom has too much trauma relating to chain bralettes and can't wear one, he's simply draped in a mesh cover, Aether weaving citrine into the cloth. He has a circlet resting against his forehead - Aether wearing a crown halo with shoulder and waist chains. Swiss only has a waist chain and garter on, but his horns are decorated with strings of chimes. Phantom is just in his unglamoured form while Aether's in his true, just fuzzy and silk at the same time. His horns are literally moving with galaxies, face still so gentle.

He's led in soft humming, then eventual prayer, how they intertwine hands and tails, moving side to side while they sit. How the sigils in the room start glowing and the room gets clouded in smoke.

He's shown to sit on his knees, hands on his lap and trying to push his essence forwards. He's... Not doing good at it. Swiss just places his hand on Phantom's back for that extra push and he's now in a projection. Sarra (1st era) is leading, calmly explaining to the group to eye their own bodies, remove their sigils of denial, cleanse themselves.

Phantom is just eyeing his body that's just covered in his Master's sigils. They're weak from the distance and how long he's been away, but it's just a sour reminder. Trying to reach out and pull it away. He's not strong with his magick so he's just left sitting there, staring at himself. He can see his physical body starting to cry, yet he isn't, but then a hand touches his shoulder in the astral. Looking over and seeing Enki (2nd era) just eyeing him.

"I could feel your distress, I'm sure the others can as well but I wanted to respond..." And now they're both looking at the sigils. "Such strong holds... Why don't we remove one together, yes? Then later, we'll stay with Sarra. He can remove a high majority of these."

Phantom just nods, and now Enki is directing him, slowly pulling at the weakest one. The mind. He's holding Phantom's hand as they start dragging the strings away, bundling it together until the very last one pulls away. Phantom pushing his hands together and smothering it, watching as it turns to stars and falls down into the void. Enki is just smiling the entire time, whispering strength into his ear while they start pulling at his hand binds.

"It always felt heavy to play or hold someone's hand... I never really understood why until now..." He's just mumbling, grabbing the strings again.

"With you being inexperienced, it's hard to understand when something is cast on you."

Stars again. Phantom just exhales, and is ready to go back in, thanking Enki with such genuine. He can see Aether and Swiss already back in their physicals, Aether holding his arm out for Phantom when he returns. For good reason, too! Phantom just completely falls forward, would've face planted if it wasn't for Aeth. He gathers himself before putting his tiny hand on Aether's giant, smiling as his hand doesn't feel heavy anymore. He takes Swiss and gives such a tight squeeze and the happiest expression.

There's mediation in between different sets, but Phantom's favorite of the entire session was the crystal exchange. Before the meeting, you were supposed to take one of the dearest crystals to you, and during the exchange you'd be led through the plane to exchange with someone who needed it most.

Phantom was led to a ghoulette he never met before, just smiling and tail wagging as he offered over his amazonite to her. She's just purring the entire time, thanking him and sharing scents before he goes back to his spot. Delta is one of three who offer theirs to Phantom. They're just purring as they hand over a tigers eye. Another ghoul he doesn't know offers a malachite, and then Sarra offers one too! It's so strange seeing this giant true form kneeling in front of this itty bitty ghoul, leaning down and speaking in ancient ghoulish that absolutely no one else knows. Sarra blessing his crystal before offering a handmade pendant of howlite.

Using his claws to carefully clip it on Phantom's wrist, moving to put his hand between his horns and continue mumbling in ancient. He's met with a tiny kiss on his forehead in the end.

After the ceremony, Enki leads Phantom to Sarra where he's now in a semi-glamour form. Aether deciding to stay just to accompany and it proves to be helpful! Settling Phantom in a pile of tourmaline as Aether, Sarra, Enki, and two others Phantom's seen in the infirmary before start slowly breaking sigils around and in him. With each sigil removed, Phantom feels lighter and lighter -- relaxed and at peace. Every now and then their hands will press against a certain spot, but Sarra has kept his hand right above his cervix the entire time.

"Whoever locked you was smart. This is my era of Magick." Sarra just mumbles, before he slowly twists his hand. "But still idiotic."

Phantom has a sudden extreme cramp before just as fast as it came, it leaves, and Sarra removes his hand. The last sigil gone. Aether is just smiling, carefully rubbing Phantom's cheek.

"How do you feel?"

He's quiet. Just slowly touching over his torso before he starts crying, being sat up and comforted. Just being sandwiched on all sides as he finally feels so... Free. There's no lingering touch, no magick restraining him. He's a bawling mess, crying his thanks over and over. Phantom is free.

[citrinesparkles]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨

(it’s been a hot min, how are ya love?)

omg... thank you thats so sweet :) and same to you 1000%!!!

(it HAS... my brain has been Elsewhere (away from writing, and also away from comics smh) but i've missed it here!!! i've been having some Life Things going on, but i'm taking things one step at a time shfdkjhsjd. how have YOU been? <3)

[citrinesparkles]

EMIIII THIS IS SO DARLING and the inclusion of a playlist????? brlliant omg.

Of New Traditions and Christmas Ornaments

dick grayson x reader

(A/N): Ha ha you thought you were done with me? Well, you were wrong. I felt like I didn’t get enough of your prompts in the first one and I really wanted to write a fic with Dick because I feel like I want to write a lot of things with him and then none of them get finished, so call this self indulgent. Hope you like it @citrinesparkles!

wc: ~800

warnings: explicit mentions of christmas

~~

You’re just taping down the last of the garland around your TV stand when you hear the door open. Your christmas spotify playlist is on in the background as it has been since you started pulling out your decorations just under an hour ago. 

Only a handful of people have a key to your apartment, and you were only expecting one tonight. Sure enough, Dick comes up behind you and you turn to face him and greets you with a kiss and a quick hug before holding up a small red bag. He holds it out to you with a curtsey. 

“For you, my dear.” You chuckle at him before taking the bag. 

“Why thank you very much, kind sir.”  You take out the top layer of white tissue paper and pull out a small wooden ornament. Your mouth drops open when you turn it around. Burnt into the wood are the words “Our First Christmas Together” in cursive font. Under that, your names and the year are also burnt in. 

You pull Dick into a hug, your arms around his neck and your face buried in your shoulder.  

“Dickie, it's beautiful.” There’s a relieved smile on Dick’s face when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t know if it was going to be too soon because it’s our first winter together even though we’ve been together for most of the year and I don’t want this relationship to go away but-”

“Hey.” You take his hand and squeeze it. “I love it. Thank you.” You lean down to put it on top of your box of ornaments. 

“Help me with the tree garland?” 

“Just tell me what to do.” 

The garland around the tree goes much faster when you don’t have to travel around it yourself. Instead you pass the long strand of garland to Dick so he can do the opposite side of the tree and pass it back to you. Once you’ve gotten to the end, you leave dick to finish and start pulling out ornaments. 

You don't have a ton of ornaments in your apartment. You left most of the nostalgic ones your mom favored with her. You didn't even want to relive your elementary school attempt at sports at her house, there’s no way you want to in your own apartment. Your tree also isn’t very big, so you hand Dick one of the sets of classic ornaments you bought your first Christmas in your own apartment and hang the second yourself. And after that, all that’s left is the topper and the ornament Dick just brought you. It’s not heavy in your hands, but it feels like it should be. 

When you were offered ornaments made by five, by eight, by twelve year old you, you told your parents that you’d collect your own nostalgic ornaments. You didn’t need theirs. 

When you look up from the ornament, Dick is watching you, a fond look on his face. You offer it to him but he shakes his head. 

“Your tree and your gift.” You pull him towards you instead, your back against his front. Dick adapts immediately, wrapping his arms around your shoulders so they grasp each other over your collarbones. 

There’s an empty spot in the middle of the tree, right at your eye level, and you gently work the twine over the pine needles and let the ornament hang. 

The tree topper feels less monumental than hanging the ornament was and you quickly stand on your tippy toes to add it to the top of your tree. You turn around to face Dick. 

“Crappy Hallmark movie?” you suggest. 

“Is there any other kind?” 

You laugh, nudging the empty ornament box into the corner of your living room. Dick hands you the empty box that held your lights and garland and you stack the empty topper box on top of those before dropping onto your couch. 

“You pick the movie, I’ll make the hot chocolate?” Dick’s still standing and you take a second to just look at him before you answer. He’s wearing a dark blue chrismukkah sweater, rows of dreidels and menorahs in between rows of ornaments and christmas trees,—a mixing of his and Bruce’s family traditions that Dick ignited a couple years after Bruce took him in. Bruce used to do the same thing with his parents, Dick told you once— black sweatpants, and nightwing socks you got him ages ago. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” you say, your chest warm. 

Dick washes the pot while the cocoa cools to drinkable temperature despite your protests, and you’ve settled on a movie by the time he sits down and hands you your Christmas wreath mug. His reindeer mug is held close to his chest by the hand not moving to wrap around yours. 

Your cocoa is done by the end of the movie. By the middle of the second movie, you’ve put the mugs in the sink, grabbed a candy cane, and sat back down, and Dick’s curled up with his head using your thigh as a pillow. By the end, Dick’s sleeping, blowing slow breaths rhythmically in and out as you card your fingers through his hair. You click down to the next suggested movie and hit play. 

[victoriadallonfan]

I saw a really funny meme about Victoria’s interaction with Gong, and it made me think…

There’s probably a LOT of unexplored potential in bias and prejudice against Cauldron capes, right?

What kind of micro aggressions can form due to this? How does it interact with capes in the same team, politically?

For context:

- Dying 15.3

Victoria gives a pretty well explained summary of Shaker-Movers, helping to explain why the cape is acting like she has PTSD (which is why Vic’s orders work and Gong’s didn’t), and Gong’s simple response is that she is a Cauldron cape.

Ergo, she wouldn’t have these issues like “real” capes. Right? Victoria wants to argue against it, but she has no real proof of this. She has theories but that’s all they are. Theories.

But WE know the truth. Victoria is correct in that vial capes get powers based off of their personality and mental states!

Battery was a passionate and fiery person who uses memories of staying calm, using breathing techniques from her past to help her manage her fear and pain, which gave her the power to become untouchable so long as she forces herself to remain calm and unmoving to charge up.

Newter was insensate with pain, delirious, and his body torn apart when given his vial, and he gained a body that deals with damage, heals, and induces delirium in others.

Sveta was trapped, torn to shreds, skin peeling off in ribbons and trapped metaphorically in a body that wasn’t right for her. She was given ribbons that could get her out of danger, that would provide and protect her with minds of their own, and a body that was what she wanted while still not being hers.

And WB did a great breakdown of the travelers:

There’s more to explore like how Alexandria had a desire to remain young, a mind foggy from drugs and a body sensitive to pain etc etc, but the gist is that cauldron capes DO have power issues related to what they can do. And according to Battery, they experience mind boggling amounts of pain with each drink of a vial.

However…

Would non-cauldron capes even care?

When Taylor learns about cauldron capes, her first reaction is disgust that these people didn’t earn their powers. That they didn’t suffer like REAL Parahumans did.

Even Victoria is offended when she learns Dean was a cauldron cape, as the intimacy of sharing their trigger events was seen as the next step of their relationship.

When Legend explains how they all should have had trigger events, but didn’t, it falls on deaf ears. No one responds to him and Taylor doesn’t give his words much thought at all.

And why should they? Cauldron capes are liars. They’ve been lying all this time. Nothing they say could be taken at face value. Eidolon could give a huge public speech about being born disabled, suffering from seizures, and his suicide attempts… and it would mean nothing.

He LIED to them about his origins. An unspoken rule has been broken. He didn’t suffer enough to earn his powers.

It’s interesting to me that the Undersiders nor Breakthrough had someone who was a voluntary cauldron cape. Sveta was an advocate for C53’s and hated Legend for being part of Cauldron, but we don’t hear her thoughts on people who simply bought powers. Taylor never knew Accord and Citrine were Cauldron until the very end.

I don’t know how to end this, but his line sticks out to me:

- Blinding 11.5

[mitsuyeaah]

Ever since I remember myself, my dad would come in our room at night with a flashlight, looking to kill mosquitoes. That's also why the white walls of our room had little bloodstains on them :)

Maybe, reader waking up accidentally to tr boys (I'll leave it to you who) trying to kill mosquitoes in the middle of the night? :>

LATE NIGHT SHENANIGANS

syn: you waking up to them trying to kill mosquitoes in the middle of the night.

TR ft. KAZUTORA, MIKEY

cw: none, just pure fluff, my men being a lil silly in the middle of the night <3 pet names (my love, baby)

a/n: hehe of course i chose your pookies!!!

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

— would definitely try to be quiet when doing it but fails because he flails too much and accidentally knocks over the lamp resting on the bedside table (thank god it’s not broken, though). kazutora would be very apologetic afterwards though for waking you up, and most likely cuddles you back to sleep before going back to killing mosquitos.

crash! the loud sound of the lamp hitting the carpeted floor jolts your body awake. with your heart racing, and head spinning from sleepiness, you looked around the dark room to see a figure putting the knocked over lamp back on the bedside table. “kazu..?” you croaked, confused as to what he was doing at this ungodly hour. he must’ve not heard you since he walked at the foot of the bed and started.. flailing his arms?

the scene in front of you was confusing. it also didn’t help how you just woke up from your sleep, and it took a lot slower for things to process in your brain. you pinched yourself a couple of times, making sure you weren’t in some kind of weird realistic dream but no, you were awake—not fully though. you watched in confusion as kazutora looked like he was chasing something. he was so focused and determined to catch whatever he had his eyes on.

when you called out his name, this time a little louder, his gaze shot over to you—clearly startled that you were awake. “did i wake you up? i’m so sorry.” he quickly walked over to your side of the bed to give your forehead a chaste kiss, smoothing the wrinkles of confusion between your knitted brows. “my love, what are you doing? it’s 2 am..” you let out a sigh of content as he tucked you back under the covers, stroking your hair.

“i was.. i was just killing mosquitoes. they’re a bothersome.” he sheepishly admitted, a hand shyly rubbing his nape. thank god it was dark in the room because he could feel his face turning a deep shade of crimson red from embarrassment of being caught in such a silly act. you looked into his citrine eyes before letting out a snort, “you’re so cute, kazu.. d’you want me to help you kill them?”

with that, kazutora was instantly reminded with one of the reasons of why he loved you so much. you never questioned his weird antics, you always matched his energy as questionable as it seemed. best believe, the two of you spent a good 10 minutes laughing and trying to catch those damned flies.

₊✮⸜ ༘⋆ MANJIRO ‘MIKEY’ SANO

— tries to be quiet but resorts to trying to catch them between his hands, so he’d have to ‘clap’ which then wakes you up and may or may not be apologetic when he does accidentally wake you up. definitely starts getting frustrated because he can’t catch them (he’s kinda short) and you just lie there and laugh at him.

clap! clap! clap! you let out a groan, your sleep suddenly being interrupted by a loud constant noise. “manjiro.. can you go look at what’s making that sound..” you mumbled as you turned to your side, trying to catch the slumber you had just a few minutes ago. manjiro didn’t respond, and the constant clapping noise was still there. groaning, you sat up from the bed and rubbed your eyes to see what was causing the annoying noise.

once your vision cleared, you were met with the view of manjiro on the other side of the bed, clapping his hands in the air as he seemed to be trying to catch something. you blinked several times, trying to convince yourself if that really was manjiro or some kind of hallucination you were seeing from the lack of sleep you had. “‘jiro..? what—what are you doing, baby?” your tone was a mix of confusion but at the same time amusement, it was such a funny sight to see him clapping his hands in the air during the middle of the night.

manjiro turned to you, “killing mosquitoes.” he let out a sigh before going back to what he was doing earlier. you watched as his head followed a mosquito, his onyx eyes locked on the target with full concentration before jumping off the ground a bit and clapping his hands together. he looked at his palms and let out a frustrated groan, by his reaction, you assumed he so successful at catching the little insect.

it was a funny sight to see him so frustrated and worked up over not being able to kill it—you couldn’t help but laugh at him. you lied back in bed, your body fully turned to him as you laughed at the man in front of you. manjiro furrowed his brows, bottom lip jutting out in a pout as he asked you what was funny, “you! you should see the way you jumped and clapped your hands.. hilarious.” you wiped an imaginary tear off the corner of your eyes and smiled up at him.

you could see the gears turning inside his head as he stood there, unmoving. “okay, i guess i do look a little silly but i just have to get rid of them because they’re so annoying.” he grumbled . you watched manjiro as he continued to try and catch the flies while you laughed at his awkward figure while trying to do so. if it were any other person laughing at him, he would’ve gotten angry but it was you, and he was completely fine with that. he liked it when you laughed anyway, even if it meant making a fool out of himself.

© mitsuyeaah

[moonchildstyles]

OOH OOH OOH!!!! what if you did citrine!y/n tries a spell and accidentally gets hurt and harry gets all dominant and like “you should have asked for my help! this is why you don’t do spells by yourself!!” and also maybe sarah catches harry doing magic at one point??!?

wordcount: 5.5k+

—————

"Hey, honey." 

(Y/N)'s chirped greeting elicited only a small smile from Harry's features, not at all the reaction she was used to from him.

"Hi, sunshine," he responded, sounding drained. Though it took a second for his aura to kick in for her, the second it did, she could see just how muted the colors were compared to the vividness she was used to from her Flame. 

"What's the matter?" she asked, shifting her car into drive to take them back to her apartment for the night. 

Harry heaved a sigh in the passenger seat, running a heavy hand through his hair. "Jus' a long day. I like the record store, and I've been getting a handle on training, surprisingly, but 's jus' a lot to get used to. Haven't done anything like this in decades." 

"Oh, H," she crooned, reaching across the center console to lace her fingers between his, "But after you're done training, they're going to cut your hours back down, right?"

"Yeah," he breathed out, looking to her with softened eyes as he squeezed her hand, "Jus' feels like 's so far off; I miss you. I've barely even had time with Bonnie and Dande this week." 

Running her thumb in quiet circles over the warmth of his hand, (Y/N) sighed. She ached in her chest, knowing how much he was hurting. He loved his little animals, so she was sure that this past week alone had put a lot of strain on his heart. "I know, but it's almost over. They'll be so excited to see you when you come home this weekend, too. It'll be special since it's been a little while." 

A small smile touched at the corners of Harry's lips at the idea of his girls getting the jitters from being excited to see him. "Right," he breathed, "I'll have to make something special for dinner for them." 

For a flicker, Harry's aura reappeared, filling her car with his divine light. Vividity had returned to the rings haloing his form, even if the drained, beige ribbon was still wrapped around the very edge. She hoped he would be able to feel how content that made her to know that he was feeling even a little better. 

"We'll have to do something special together, too," he told her, bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. 

"I'm sure you'll think of something," she said, looking to him from the corner of her eye as she kept her attention on driving. (Y/N) had already been thinking about something she could do to make this week up to him, though she was sure Harry had different ideas than she had had swirling around. 

She just hoped her idea worked out the way she wanted.

—————

(Y/N) was out of breath by the time she made it up to Harry's meadow. 

Looking out on the wide open space, despite the cottage and the flora filling the space, it felt so empty without Harry there. He was like the sun of this space, everything revolving around him and bending to his will out of nothing but love. Even Bonnie, who was curled up on the porch of his house, looked bored out of her mind since her dad wasn't there. 

"Hi, sweetie," she greeted the mountain lion with a pass of her fingers over the fluff between her ears. Bonnie only huffed before laying her head back down on her paws. "He's coming home tonight, you know. He'll be home a lot more now after this." 

As if she could understand what (Y/N) was saying, Bonnie looked up with her big eyes, nose puffing. A twitch came to her ears as if she were perking up at the news, keening into (Y/N)'s petting hand. "Me too," she told her, "I'm excited too, sweetie." 

With a lingering pet, (Y/N) pushed through to Harry's cottage. He'd barely been spending any time here this past week, having taken to sleeping at (Y/N)'s place through the nights so he wouldn't have to go too far to get to work on time. The area was just as she was sure he had left it the previous Sunday: records out of place with Pink Floyd on his player, his kitchen a little bit of a mess with crumbs from his breakfast he made himself before rushing out, and his bed unmade. The little divot at the end of the bed still remained from where she was sure Dandelion had been sleeping since her dad had left. 

After toeing off her shoes by the front door, bag dropped just beside, (Y/N) started on her first step of her plan. Harry was getting off of his final training shift in a little over an hour, leaving with just enough time to execute her plan to dote on him after such a long week. She was going to clean up his cottage (possibly even weed his garden if she had the time), make him some dinner, tend to his girls, and make sure he had the most stressless night imaginable as he adjusted. More film for his camera was stowed away in her tote bag, along with ingredients for the night's dinner, and a spare change of clothes as she planned on staying the night with him. 

Her sweep of the cottage started by his record player. She sheathed the opened records and replaced them in his beloved crate that was becoming a little too full for comfort as his collection had been non-stop growing since she came into his life. Just as she made a mental note to grab him an extra, she stopped herself with a small smile. He would be able to get himself another crate at work. 

After placing one of the records she had introduced him to on the player, the needle finding the divots a moment later, she started on the real work. Her first stop was the kitchen, cleaning up and putting away the mess he'd left out as she hummed along to the crackling song filtering through the space. Just as she'd began rifling through his cabinets in prep of getting dinner together later, she heard a digging at the front door. Tiny feet patting against the wood along with bumps against the front door gave away who would be waiting for her the second she made her way to the screen door. 

 A pair of fluffy white ears peeked over the paneling of the door, a set of dark eyes and a puffing nose following after as (Y/N) grew closer. "Hi, Dande," she crooned to her friend, propping open the door for the bunny to pad on in. 

As always, Dandelion greeted her with a pat of her head against (Y/N)'s ankle before she scampered off in favor of reclaiming her spot on Harry's bed. Dande hunkered down with a puff of her nose, her little feet tucked under the white puffball of her body before she trained her eyes on (Y/N).

"Harry's coming home tonight," she told the bunny, resuming her work in the kitchen as she collected utensils and cookware to help her later on in the night. Peeking over her shoulder with a pot in hand, she saw the familiar twitch of Dandelion's ears and the slow blink of her eyes in contentedness. 

She hoped Harry knew how loved he was by his little creatures. 

Dandelion was quick to fall asleep as soon as she got comfortable, leaving (Y/N) to herself as she puttered around the cottage with tidiness appearing in her wake. Making his bed was the hardest part, having to move Dandelion from her cozy spot as she fixed the bedding. Though she did seem happy with the fluff of pillows she left her in, a nest for her to rest in until her dad made it home. Fixing up the mess of his comforter led her to kneel off the side of his bed, tucking the bedding into the mattress. The angle offered her a peek under his bed, finding the aged spine of a book, cracks showing in the binding with the gold lettering having faded some. 

(Y/N) had seen the book once before when he'd first revealed his secret to her. He offered her the volume as a way of answering questions she didn't know where to begin with. This was the same book she found all the information there was about Twin Flames and what her love was going to be like now that she'd found her forever person. 

She couldn't help herself but to slide the book out of hiding, carefully opening the front cover to show off the table of contents. The pages were thin and weathered, Harry having shared with her that it was in his family for centuries before his mother passed it on to him when he left the coven for his own nomadic adventures. This was the book that carried him through his years along, almost every page, spell, and potion having been committed to memory.

Instinctively, she wanted to open up to the page describing Twin Flames, reread the details that had been lost to time since she had opened this book months ago. Just as she ran her fingertips over the edge of the page, one of the sections on the table caught her eye, an idea blooming in her head.

Around the same time he had let her read his book, he'd also pointed out a few spells and rituals that didn't need the prerequisite of being a witch to perform. They were usually for beginners, people who had very recently found their powers and couldn't properly tap into them, or for someone like him who had struggled to get a grip on his magic while he waited for his Flame to balance him out. When she had asked if these could be things she could try out, she could remember the way he gave her a bubbly smile, excitedly telling her he'd love to show her how to perform these rituals. 

Despite his excitement, that had been something that was pushed to the wayside when she found all the information about their Alignment Ritual, and dropped from her mind the more time went on. Now, looking at the page, having thumbed to the beginner spells without thinking, that same excitement was reignited in her. 

Harry always used his magic to help take care of her, to make her days easier and the load on her shoulders lighter. Looking at this page, faded cursive and aging drawings, she wanted to do the same for him. Surely there could be something in here like the tea he was so fond of making for her that took the ache out of her feet after long serving shifts, or the sachet he would place under her pillow if he knew she was having trouble sleeping. 

With her heart a flutter at the idea of indulging in the things she was sure Harry hadn't had anyone do for him in as long as it'd been since he left home, she carefully set the spell book down on the kitchen counter. She needed to get a few more things done, then she would dedicate her attention to her first try at magic. 

The rest of (Y/N)'s chores came quickly. She finished cleaning the cottage, made dinner for the girls—Dande a mushroom salad using the sprouts Harry had tucked away in his fridge, and a chicken salad that he had already had chilling for Bonnie (she was sure it wasn't very satisfying for the mountain lion, but she would eat anything her dad had a hand in)—, and started dinner for the two of them now that Harry only had another fifteen minutes remaining of his shift. He was much more used to the trek up to his cottage, making it a quick walk for him, so she hoped she could have everything done and still warm for him by the time he would be joining her. 

After flipping the record to B-side, (Y/N) started on dinner as she hummed along. While she wasn't quite as talented as Harry was in the kitchen, she hoped he would still be satisfied with her attempt at a vegan batch of Jade Noodles for him, complete with her own version of the sesame dressing. He loved peas enough that she hoped with the extra pods she added in, he could forgive any mistakes she made. 

Once she got to a good stopping point on the food, letting everything simmer, steep, and sweat, she excitedly reached for the open book on the counter. Thumbing through the amateur section, she tried to find something that didn't look too complicated, but would help Harry when he undoubtedly came home exhausted.  

(Y/N) perked up when she saw a potion detailing out something about the release of toxic energy. The mixture promoted its consumer to release the negative energy from their system, leaving them light and refreshed. Rejuvenating, it had been described as with several lines slashes underneath the word. This would be perfect, she figured, knowing just how much stress Harry had been carrying even prior to starting his job. Every bit of nervous energy and stressed pinch of his nerves would be gone in no time if she made him this. 

The ingredients listed under the sketch of the potion seemed easy enough to gather. She knew Harry had a lot of things lying around his cottage and growing in his garden. She had yet to see him out of anything he needed, so she had no reason to believe he wouldn't have everything listed on the page. 

Double checking on dinner, she made sure to reduce everything to a barely there simmer with lids on every pot and a cover on the beans that had already been blanched before she was out the front door with the spell book in hand. The potion called for sprigs of plants she had no idea how to pronounce—most likely in Welsh as Harry had explained to her was one of the mother tongues of his coven. But, one flick through to the glossary showed her drawings of each plant that was needed. 

It was easy to compare everything to what he had growing in his garden. Flowers that looked like lavender sprigs were quickly plucked, a silent thank you given to the flora that Harry had taught her. Chamomile-esque blooms joined the fray along with something that smelled like fresh snow when she brought the petals to her nose. Each fragrance was calming, leading her to believe she was on the right track. Peppery leaves were collected, the scent especially spicy compared to the gentle flowers that were forming a bouquet in her grip. But, glancing over the potion recipe, it seems this was all the right moving parts to get together. It wasn't until she reached the final ingredient that (Y/N) hit a snag. 

The name had been something completely undecipherable, having worn away after time. She tried her best to make out the faded letters as well as she could before she turned to the glossary once more. When she thought she found what she had been looking for, a drawing of a berry-like fruit colored the small section given to the ingredient. It looked like a pomegranate, a deep red color with vining purple veins, pockmarked with baby pink swatches that looked like stars. (Y/N) had to crawl deeper into Harry's garden to get a better look, trying to find something that looked similar to the drawing. 

A pinch touched at her brow when she couldn't find anything matching the reference picture. Harry always had everything, surely his plot of land was a witch's dream with the way he stocked up on everything, but he didn't have this? The closest (Y/N) could spot was a small fruited shrub that grew in a tiny patch against the wall of the cottage. The berries looked closer to that of a blueberry, tiny and purple with black spots. Perhaps they were her pomegranate berries that just weren't quite ripe, yet? 

Sitting back on her heels, (Y/N) pulled the book to sit on her lap as she glanced back and forth between the berry patch and the photo she had been searching with. They were similar enough, she thought. Besides, this book was very old and a little discolored anyway. There was a big chance there wasn't even a berry out there like the one drawn, with the way time could have altered the image and sullied the colors. 

With that in mind and the ticking time clock of when Harry would be on his way, she plucked a handful of the berries off the bush, adding them to her collection. From what she remembered from every time Harry let her sit in on his rituals and potion-making, he preferred to do all of his craft outside. It tied him closer to the Earth, he had told her, the lack of barrier between him and the lush ground that took care of him gave him more positive energy and a stronger tie to the cycle he was attributing to with his magic. That was why she grabbed all of her supplies—a small  crystalline bowl, a mortar and pestle, and a tiny pouch to steep the mixture into a tea when done—and immediately made her altar out by the river that ran through the meadow. 

The running water made for a gentle symphony to play through her ears, calming her some now that nerves had arose over the fact she was actually going to make a real life potion. Before Harry, she'd only seen this kind of stuff in cartoons and movies, and now she was going to get to try it for herself. Hopefully, Harry would be impressed. 

With the spell book splayed open in front of her, (Y/N) followed every step. Grinding up the leaves and flowers, she watched as a paste formed under the cool moonlight. Flower petals ran bright streaks through the forest green stems that made the majority of the mixture, flora smells being tamped out by the peppery aroma of the added leafy greens she ground along with them. By the time everything almost began to resemble a dough (a very odd texture, but (Y/N) didn't have the place to question it really), she transferred it to the bowl and added a touch of water from the running river as was called by the recipe. 

(Y/N) watched in awe as the paste began to change, leveling out into something thick like honey and sweet smelling like brown sugar, studded by tiny, white flowers that floated along inside by a current she couldn't see. If not for the fact she was on a time limit, she could have stared at the mixture for hours, watching the flowers play like fairies in the forest-hued potion. But, knowing that Harry would be due back within the next ten minutes had her hustling to reach for the faux-blueberries to be added to the bowl. 

With a few prods of the pestle, the berries burst, inking the mixture a deep plum shade. As per the instructions, only a few grinds of the utensil was needed before the potion was meant to steep under the moonlight. (Y/N) couldn't keep her eyes off it as she watched the ingredients work their own magic with each other. The current that had formed to float along with those tiny flowers had flourished into a rolling boil. Thick bubbles burst with spatters of the mixture landing out on the blades of grass cradling the bowl. 

Just as (Y/N) leaned in, wanting a closer look at what was happening with her first potion, the mixture seemingly took a turn. Those black spots that marred her berries began to spider out from the skins of the faux-blueberries. Their reach continued until everything was snuffed into a deep black, the crystalline bowl turning into its own tiny void in the middle of the meadow. Glancing at the spell book, (Y/N) knew this wasn't quite right. By now, the berries should have stained everything into a lighter lavender shade. Ones of those tiny flowers was supposed to have bloomed into a large floret to hold the potion like a teacup waiting for the consumer to sip from its petals. That was definitely not what was happening.

The thick tar that had become her potion bubbled with viscous splatters, those tiny droplets of rouge mixture clinking to the ground below it until (Y/N) swore the color was being sucked out of the lush grass. As much as she wanted to investigate the growing puddles of grey, the fact that the potion had begun moaning and groaning, screaming out in echoed whispers had the full of her attention. She could even make out faces appearing in the bottom of the bowl, the features looking something akin to the tragedy masks of Greek theater. 

Fear stunted her limbs as she watched the potion take on a life of its own, boiling until it overtook the crystalline bowl it was held in with spider-like limbs. The long reach of the spindly legs attached to the earth below, sucking the life out of the plots with the grass running grey and dying. The negative energy she was supposed to be banishing with the help of this potion was seemingly conjured instead, ready and willing to take from her as it sugglishly drew closer to her. With every scream of the potion, (Y/N) felt a zing go up her spine. 

Her breathing grew panicked as that anxiety-induced fight or flight reaction had be activated. How was she supposed to fix this? How was she supposed to kill energy? She could only get away from it. 

Even then, that seemed to be a struggle with the way she couldn't get to her shaky feet with her eyes trained on the sludge that was coming her way, terrified faces gaining more and more detail in the goo. 

She could only manage a tiny whimper out of her throat when one of the boney pulls of the potion attempted to reach for her ankle. 

The sound of her heart rushed through her ears, loud enough to make her aware of the beats per minute she was sporting, but no where near loud enough to drown out the freakish screams of the sludge. As a passing thought, she hoped Dande and Bonnie had made a getaway—their sensitive ears couldn't take this. 

As if she was performing another act of summoning, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar mountain lion appearing through the treeline. In tow was an even more familiar man, his eyes wild and hair pushed behind his ears as he looked down at where his shirt was caught in Bonnie's teeth. 

"Suns—" Harry's voice was cut off the second he caught sight of the debacle playing out in front of her, the protection spell he'd put over the meadow most likely drowning out the panicked screams of the potion for anyone who hadn't crossed into the clearing. She watched as he sized up the menace tearing towards her, the sentient potion gaining traction with each move, every blade of grass shriveling and losing color in its wake. 

Something shifted in his demeanor that (Y/N) never seen before, his jaw steeling and his shoulders squaring before he disregarded the pull of his pet. On heavy feet, he approached the out of control potion, confidence in every step. He never once seemed bothered by the seething negative energy that practically came off the concoction in waves, even going so far as to tamp splats of the potion out under the soles of his sunflower decorated boots. 

She wished she could have heard the spell that left his lips, but there was no way she was going to hear anything over the pounding of her heart and the agony that punched through her eardrums from her created monster. Still, she could see his lips moving, the low rumble of his voice as he held his hands out before him. A blinding light formed like beams of sunshine in the palms of his hands, rays touching the very edges of the potion. 

Harry spotted the source of the monster with a graze of his focused eyes before he flicked the sunlight towards the crystalline bowl. It was a delicate move, as if no thought had gone into it beforehand, but the destruction was intentional. The toxic screams of the potion transitioned into harrowing shrieks as the goo was burnt to ash. Flicks of sunlight were beamed over every inch of the rouge potion, getting rid of every evidence of the mishap—even the decaying grass came back to life—aside from the sheen of sparkling, purple ash that covered the ground. 

The cries tamped down until there was only silence, a shattered bowl, and ash left in the meadow. 

The light in Harry's hands died down as soon as he brought his palms together, his chest heaving though his face stayed stoic. The scene looked something serene as (Y/N) felt her rabbit-heartbeat settle in her chest. 

Her borrowed spell book was carefully laid out on the lush-again grass, the crystalline bowl was split right down the middle, and the used mortar and pestle were delicately placed on a tuft of grass. The moonlight bathed the moment in a cool blue tone, calming. Harry even seemed to be something of a statue, marble-esque if not for the rise and fall of his chest. 

He didn't turn to look at her, eyes trained in the same spot they had been since he spotted the monster.

Rising to her shaky legs, (Y/N) fisted her sweaty hands together as she tried to get a grip on her surroundings now that there wasn't the blockage of the insane screams clouding her thoughts. 

"Har—" 

It was as if her voice brought him to life, the way he turned on his heel. His hair flopped over his forehead with his jaw clenched tight. His nose flared as he let out a harsh breath. "(Y/N), what were you thinking?" he seethed through gritted teeth. 

Her eyes widened at his tone, never, ever having heard him speak like this. She floundered for a response, mouth dropping open though no sound came out. 

Harry took a stride towards her, eyes fierce. His aura flamed around him in raging crimson ribbons. "What were you thinking trying out a spell without me here?! There are dangerous things in that book, (Y/N)," he pointed accusingly at the spellbook opened behind him, "Do you even know what you just did? What you just conjured?" 

"Harry, I—" she squeaked, her voice falling flat as Harry shouted over her. 

"No, you don't! That thing could have killed you, (Y/N)!" His voice boomed through the meadow. (Y/N) wouldn't have been surprised if the walls of his cottage shook at the volume. 

"I-I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, her words almost inaudible in comparison. 

She watched as he Flame all but shook with the anger inside him, his hands in tight fists at his sides with his muscles drawn taut. "Don't you ever go through my book again when I'm not here. Do you hear me, (Y/N)?" 

His authoritative tone drew a nod from her immediately. 

Silence befell the clearing once more, static filling the space as (Y/N) tried to ward off the tears burning her eyes. 

Sucking in a stunted breath, (Y/N) tried to find her words despite the heat of Harry's gaze pinned to her. "I-I didn't mean to, Harry," she choked out, "I promise I wasn't playing around with your book. I w-was only trying to make you one of those potions you make for me—something to help relax you and everything. I-I thought I picked an easy one, I'm sorry." 

All the air seemed to blow out of Harry's body. His shoulders deflated with the strong planes of his chest relaxing. The steel in his eyes lessened and lessened until there were only jade pools left, the clench of his jaw unwinding until his features were left sweetened and round. His aura dulled until nothing was left but a melancholy blue and the sickly green of fear. 

"C'mere, sunshine," he crooned, voice especially soft given the last time she had heard it. 

It didn't take a single thought for her to be launched into his arms, wrapping her own around his middle with her face tucked into his neck. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she wailed, her words a little mushed as she cried into his chest, "I'm so, so sorry." 

"I know you are. 'S okay, 's okay." His chest rumbled under her ear as he tired to soothe her. He pet his hand over her hair while the other arm stayed steady around her waist to keep her flush to his form. 

"I-I swear I was only trying to help," she pleaded, eyes clenched shut with tears rapidly leaking through, "I th-thought I did everything right." 

Harry held her tighter to his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to her hairline. "I know, lovely. Don't cry, okay? Everything's alright." 

"Bu-But you're mad at me," she hiccuped, clutching his shirt tightly in her fists, "I didn't me—" 

"I know—I promise, I believe you, sunshine. I know y'didn't mean to, and I forgive you, okay?" he cooed, using his grip on her waist to peel her away from his chest, "I'm not mad, alright? I jus' got really, really scared, but I shouldn't have shouted at you. Especially now knowing what y'were trying to do for me." 

"But, I should have waited for you," she whispered, the only volume she could manage without her voice giving out. 

Bringing his hand that had been caressing her hair to her cheek, Harry brushed the pad of his thumb over her skin in an affectionate run. "Y'should have, yeah," he smiled at her, the curl lopsided, "But I shouldn't have shouted at you like that, okay? 'M sorry." 

"It's okay," she peeped, a pathetic sniffle following. 

His face turned serious then, his hand cupping her cheek in his palm. "Can y'do something for me, lovely?" 

She only gave a quiet nod.

"You've got to promise me you'll never do anything like that ever again, okay? That really, really scared me, sunshine." Harry's voice cracked as he reached her petname. His eyes shone with tears as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I don't know what I would have done if Bonnie hadn't found me to get me up here faster. I don't ever want to have to think about that again, okay?" 

"I promise, I promise," she bubbled out, harsh sniffled sounding between her words, "I'm sor—"

Harry shook his head at her, petting her cheekbone with his thumb. "No more apologies, okay? I've forgiven you, just like you forgave me. We don't need to worry about that anymore. I jus' want to make sure you're alright now." His eyes scanned over her form, drawing down her body as much as he could without pulling away. "It didn't get you at all, right?" 

"No, no," she shook her head, a lump forming in her throat as the memory of the creature reaching towards her returned, "I-It tried, but you stopped it." 

"Thank the Moon," Harry murmured to himself, dropping a kiss to her forehead as he let out a sigh that fanned across her skin. 

He held her under the moonlight as she bundled herself against his chest, cooing to her with reassuring words and promises that everything was alright. He wasn't upset with her, he'd said, only scared. He loved her to bits and pieces, and he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he hadn't made it to her in time. He loved that she wanted to try something to help him, his sweet girl always doing anything to help him. He loved her, he told her after almost every sentiment, the declaration reciprocated in her watery tone each time. 

"Harry?" 

He hummed against her hairline, the tip of his nose skimming the messy strands piled on her head.

"Does this mean the universe is upset with me? Since I did bad magic?" According to the vague grip she had on the balance and rules that went into witchcraft, what she had done with the inky mass she created, she figured that balance would be out of wack now. Karma and all the things would be out to get her.

A smile could be felt against her skin, a huffed laugh ruffling her hair as Harry shook his head. "No, no, sunshine," he crooned, peeling back to get a look at her eyes, "She knows y'only had pure intentions, no reason to punish you over not knowing what y'were doing. You've got nothing to worry about with that, okay?" 

(Y/N) gave him a pathetic nod, exhaustion filling her limbs over the events of the last twenty minutes. Harry settled her against his chest, cheek smushed into his skin as he hugged her to him—her rock, she thought. 

"I made dinner, by the way," she peeped out, eventually having found her voice through her raw throat. 

"You did?" Harry chirped, a bright smile in his town she could hear and feel against the crown of her head. 

"Mhm," she hummed, the sound a bit nasally, "Jade noodles. I even made my own sauce and everything." 

"Stars," he sighed out, peeling away from her, "We can't let that go to waste then, can we?" 

Looking up at him, (Y/N) could see the sheen of recently shed tears that covered his eyes, sparkling just like the stars twinkling above him. His aura haloed his form in baby pinks and serene greens. He loved her, the confirmation in the shades. 

"No," she said, agreeing with him as she shook her head with a tiny smile.

"C'mon then, sunshine," he crooned, "Come eat with me, then we'll take a bath together, yeah?" 

Seeing him looking at her like that, full of adoration and devotion, (Y/N) almost felt like her plunder had been worth it. (The creature was really scary, though, so she wasn't sure anything could be worth that, but this was definitely, definitely up there on the list of things that could convince her). 

Knowing that he looked at her like that after doing nothing more than making dinner and a mess in his yard, it only reaffirmed to her that she would do anything for him. Even that.

—————

this was requested forever ago so thank you sm for being so patient bestie!! thank you all sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!!

[citrinesparkles]

omg im so honored to make this list hello?? what talented company!!!!! this has me 🥺💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

thank you sm lovely <3 :) im so happy you enjoy my silly little blog :)

Hello! The new ck chapter is amazing! Your writing is unbelievable and I loved how you wrote the relationship between Steph and the reader 🫶. Also all the interactions with flash and the reader are sooo good (this chapter though had some water coming out of my eyes). Delicious and delightful as always! I was also wondering if you have any recommendations for any dc x reader fics. ❤️

thank you so much!!! that is so kind of you to say ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 i really love steph and reader’s relationship, and wally and reader’s too! honestly the backbones of the story HAHA

oh recommendations… for x reader stuff, i can direct you to @prettylittlebrownskingyal ! she is no longer active and a lot of her fics seem to have been deleted/taken down but what’s left is still great! i absolutely love all her characterizations but particularly tim’s! her writing for him was what turned me onto him! @luvablehand has some excellent excellent jason content for your enjoyment too! like seriously, their characterization of jason is super fun and feels so accurate and real, i love it sm. @citrinesparkles is also a blog i would recommend! lots and lots of great content there! and @dgo-master1 is no longer active but their masterlist is still up for anyone’s enjoyment!

i know you asked specifically for x reader stuff but it’d be remiss of me not to include more general dc fic recs that i love dearly. so there’s this post i made with direct links to fics that i absolutely love (highly recommend the jason & talia stuff and the timtam one but All of it is Great!). then i have a tag for fic recs that you can also peruse! highly recommend anything you find there and the blogs i mentioned! hopefully that helps! <33

[2baddiesfanfics]

From Liyue With Love

Pairing: Beidou x Ningguang

Tags: Birthday, Valentine's Day, Birthday Sex, Presents, Scissoring, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering

Summary:

Beidou has always been more partial to Valentine's Day than the other event that happens to fall on the same date. Ningguang wants to change that. In the end, they discover they've both got the best gifts either of them could hope for.

Read on Ao3

The chain of the gold necklace shimmered as Beidou held it up to the light of the mid-day Liyue sun. She’d stopped at Mingxing Jewelry to pick up the Valentine’s Day gift she had special ordered for the Tianquan who held her heart. Over the years she had imported many ores and gems one could only find from the furthest reaches of Sumeru to the deepest seas of Fontaine just for Xingxi’s store.

“Is it to your liking, captain? I admit, I took a few liberties with the instructions you left me,” Xingxi stated hesitantly.

Beidou ran her thumb across the small heart-shaped pendant, the cold stones chilling her skin. The two halves glistened in their respective signature colors - amethyst for her electro, citrine for Ningguang’s geo.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Thanks, Xingxi! Knew I could count on you.”

The shopkeeper smiled gently. “I’m so happy to hear it.”

Beidou plopped a sizable sack of mora on the counter but was taken aback when Xingxi pushed it toward her.

“Captain, I appreciate that you think so highly of my handiwork, but I fear this is far too much. Half of that is more than enough. Consider it a birthday discount,” she replied with a wink.

She blinked, unsure of how to respond. If she didn’t have Ningguang in her life, today would be like any other. Commemorating Valentine’s Day was fun for many reasons. Beidou relished any chance she could get to show the Tianquan what she meant to her. The other yearly occurrence that happened to be on the same day…she had never seen a reason to celebrate.

Beidou swallowed back the dark emotions that threatened to burst forth. “Gee… thanks, Xingxi. Wait a second…how did you know it was my-“

The shopkeeper let out a chuckle. “Captain…how could I not? It’s all Lady Ningguang has been talking about for days.”

With a blush spreading across her face, Beidou nodded her head in gratitude and started the lengthy trek to the Jade Chamber.

“Captain Beidou! It’s so nice to see you here,” Baishi said suspiciously loud. She had greeted her right before the doors to Ningguang’s office, which Beidou found unusual.

“Uh, yeah, you too, Baishi. Is the Tianquan in?”

The secretary looked nervously over her shoulder. “Um…she’s a little-“ A loud crash came from the other side of the door, and Beidou looked ready to rush in.

“Ning? Are you okay in there?”

A swirl of platinum blonde hair appeared in the doorway. “Yes, captain, everything is quite alright. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some…business to wrap up. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Beidou cocked an eyebrow. “You sure you’re good?”

Ningguang stared daggers at her. “Do you mean to insinuate I don’t know what I’m doing, captain?”

She held up her hands in defense. “Not at all. Continue,” she said with a smug smirk.

After passing the time chatting with Baishi, Beidou was relieved to hear Ningguang’s voice echo through the double doors once more.

“You may enter now. Baishi, please let Baiwen and Baixiao know you are all free to go home for the evening.” After a quick “goodnight,” the woman left to find her coworkers.

Beidou swiftly entered the room and was caught completely off guard by the sight before her. Ningguang had donned a dark blue strapless dress that sparkled like moonlight on the ocean’s surface.

A quiet “wow” was the most she could manage. Her attention was quickly directed to the table behind her, however. It had been set for dinner, complete with a tall glass of Beidou’s favorite lager imported from Inazuma. The scent of flash-fried filet, her favorite dish, wafted through the room, making her stomach growl.

“Baobei…did you…did you cook all this?”

Ningguang glided over to her side. “I may have asked Chef Mao’s girl to walk me through some things, but yes,” she answered as she took Beidou’s hand in hers. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Beidou felt the room spin around her. The weight of such careful planning hit her in full force.

“What’s wrong? Is it not to your liking?”

She hadn’t realized tears had started to drip down her cheeks.

“No! Archons…no. I love it. It’s just…I’m not used to this. I’ve always associated my birthday with wishing I hadn’t been born.”

Ningguang’s grip on her hand tightened. “How could you say that, Beidou?”

The captain wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I mean…Valentine’s Day is much more important, don’t ya think? I’d rather celebrate love than a curse like me.”

A look of intense sorrow came over Ningguang. She leaned her forehead on Beidou’s, forcing her to make eye contact. “You are not a curse, dear heart. Those villagers were ignoramuses who believed in mumbo-jumbo bullshit. Please. Let’s celebrate you tonight, hmm? I can think of no one more deserving,” she said as she took her by the hand and led her to the table.

“Well, one thing’s for sure. I’m not about to let this go to waste. Thank you so much, baobei.”

Ningguang smiled at the return of her signature sense of humor. The women sat down and thoroughly enjoyed every last bite as they chatted about their respective weeks.

“Whew. I couldn’t eat another bite! My compliments to the chef. You sure you don’t want to join my crew and cook for all of us?”

Slightly buzzed on her own glass or three of wine, Ningguang let out a hearty laugh. “Oh please. It was one dish! But I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Chugging the rest of her beer, Beidou let out a satisfied sigh. “Shame there’s no dessert, though. Could really go for something sweet after this.” She shifted her hooded gaze to lock eyes with the Tianquan. Ningguang had been with her long enough to recognize this was a different kind of hunger.

“Who said I didn’t have something prepared for your sweet tooth?” She replied seductively as she got up to get closer to her. “Did you honestly think this was all I got you?” Ningguang hiked her dress up as she positioned herself to straddle her lover’s lap. Beidou’s eyes drifted to the garter straps peeking out from under the fabric and had to control herself from ripping them off with her teeth.

“You mean there’s a feast after the feast?” She asked, lips already wandering across her chest and up her neck.

“Hmmm…it’s prepared. You just have to devour it,” Ningguang half-moaned.

“Then don’t mind if I do,” Beidou said as she grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Their mouths locked as the Tianquan wrapped her arms around her neck for support. The captain knew the way to the private sleeping quarters of Ningguang’s office like the back of her hand and carefully navigated around the stacks of scrolls that always seemed to inevitably accumulate.

Once she made it to the bed, she set her down and crawled on top of her, continuing to show her gratitude by attending to every inch of her body. Her dress was far too beautiful to remove, so she worked around whatever skin was left uncovered.

She was delectable in so many ways, and Beidou couldn’t help but repay her kindness in the only way she knew would come close. As she situated herself between her thighs, she shifted the fabric of her dress up to her hips to provide her with enough access.

Ningguang could only let out contented sighs and groans as the captain took her time savoring and teasing her. Beidou kissed her inner thigh, causing her to spread herself wider in anticipation. Whether this was a gift for Beidou or Ningguang, neither of them cared. They were lost in each other. Finally, the captain moved the crotch of the Tianquan’s panties to the side and tasted the unique but familiar flavor of her arousal.

“Archons…Beidou, your tongue feels so good…”

“Louder for me, baby. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” she commanded before swiveling it inside of her. The buck of Ningguang’s hips drove her deeper and caused her to moan. She held them down as she continued the practiced movements she knew would make her come undone. Desperate for connection, the Tianquan covered Beidou’s hands with her own.

“Fuck…Beidou…yessssss…” Between the captain’s muffled grunts and her own mewls of pleasure, Ningguang came with a shudder.

Beidou plopped onto her side next to where Ningguang lay on the bed dizzy on alcohol and her orgasm. The Tianquan rolled to face her and softly stroked the captain’s face with her well-manicured fingers.

“Well, that was just lovely. But I do believe I need to exchange a gift of my own. For without you being born today, I would not have a love worth celebrating. The archons gave me my heart on the most romantic day of the year.” Ningguang leaned in and kissed her with a passion unmatched.

The Tianquan tasted the salty tang of Beidou’s tears. To this day the captain still wasn’t used to this poetic tenderness. Sure, she and Ningguang had been together for a while, but she wasn’t usually this romantic. Beidou placed her hands on her waist and pulled her closer.

Their tongues clashed as hands roamed, divesting one another of any remaining clothing until their body heat was the only thing keeping them warm. Ningguang grabbed Beidou’s leg and placed it on her hip as she moved her hand between the two of them to her drenched core.

“What you lack in words your body certainly makes up for,” she teased as she ran her thumb across Beidou’s clit. The captain jolted in response to the stimulation.

“Ning…” She quietly breathed into her ear sending goosebumps down the Tianquan’s spine.

Collecting her arousal, she easily inserted two fingers into her. Moving them in and out, she slowly stroked her thumb across her sensitive bud in time with her movements. She continued her ministrations as she kissed down Beidou’s neck and across her chest. The captain’s flushed face and high-pitched moaning of her name alerted her she was close. Ningguang sped up her thrusts and crashed her mouth against her lover’s as she spasmed around her.

The two women held each other tightly reveling in the happiness and love they shared.

“Oh! Before I forget…” Beidou quickly hopped off the bed to fish around in the pocket of the bag she had brought with her. Producing a small wooden box, she placed it in Ningguang’s outstretched hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baobei. A treasure for my treasure.”

Ningguang rolled her eyes endearingly at the terrible pun. Turning her gaze back toward what she now held in her palm, she pried it open and gasped when she saw the contents.

“B-Beidou…this…this is gorgeous!” She gasped. Instinctively she turned around and pulled her hair back so the captain could do the honors. The necklace was surprisingly light considering the weight of the emotion it held. “I love it and will cherish it forever,” she exclaimed as she took her face in her hands. “Just like you.”

Beidou beamed at her girlfriend’s excitement. “I’m glad. I only brought Xingxi the materials. She was the one who worked her magic.”

Ningguang whipped around to her side table and immediately pulled out her own gift. Beidou couldn’t help but giggle at the ornate packaging that was so very…Ningguang.

“Now, you’ll have to let me know if this isn’t to your tastes. It’s nowhere near as ornate as what you’ve gifted me, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it,” she warned as Beidou began to carefully pull the paper away. Soon, it was revealed to be a beautiful photo album. Pictures of memorable moments decorated each page.

Beidou standing by the Alcor, newly purchased with help from Ningguang. Their first lantern rite together. The time Beidou took Ningguang on a trip to Inazuma to meet the sly fox of a light novel publisher she knew she’d want to do business with. A snapshot of the both of them deep in thought pondering over a chessboard. The rest of the photos started to blur through eyes glistening once again with unshed tears.

“I had that lovely little photographer from The Steambird help me restore some of the old photographs I had lying around. I figured it might help if you had something to look at when you were away on longer voyages.”

“Ning…I don’t have words. This is…this is incredible. And perfect. Just like you.”

The Tianquan smiled mischievously. “And…you haven’t gotten to the end yet. Go ahead and turn a few more pages,” she teased. Beidou did as she was told and was greeted by insanely risqué shots of Ningguang in barely-there lingerie…as well as some with her in nothing at all. She snapped the album shut quickly, her face turning red.

“Holy shit. I’m going to need to go another round after that.”

Beidou crawled on her hands and knees toward Ningguang, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. She wrapped her legs around Beidou’s waist, their mouths clashing once again.

Their cores aligned, they were both reduced to a moaning mess as their bodies shook with need for one another.

“Baobei,” Beidou groaned between kisses, “You’re the…best gift…I could ever hope to…receive.”

The Tianquan wrapped her arms around her, yanking her closer for added pressure. Beidou moved her hips in time with Ningguang’s, their now over-stimulated buds sliding against one another ferociously.

The sound of ragged breathing, sighs of pleasure, and the gentle rattle of a necklace chain swirled in a symphony throughout the room. The captain slid a hand between them, adding additional sensation to Ningguang’s clit.

“Come with me, love,” Beidou whispered as she held her tightly. The two women once again found release, their movements slowing as their orgasms came to a dull throb.

Ningguang clasped the pendant she now wore around her neck. “Beidou, you’ll have to tell me - what does it feel like to be the richest woman in Teyvat?”

Beidou propped herself up on her elbow as she cocked a curious eyebrow at the woman she loved. “Why, Lady Tianquan…whatever do you mean?”

“Mora is easy to come by. But you own something truly priceless - my heart.”

“Now that,” Beidou said as she placed a kiss on her forehead, “is the best birthday gift I will ever receive.”

[drowninginships]

✨9 people you’d like to know better✨

Thank you to @monbons and @raenestee for tagging me! I'm sorry it took me a week to respond, shit's been crazy.

Last Song: I have had "Somebody You Loved" by Lewis Capaldi on repeat for about 5 days now. Something about the raw lyrics with his raspy voice, it makes me feel like I'm grieving a relationship alongside him, even though I'm not. Doesn't that sound crazy? I guess his grief gives me the dopamine.

Favorite Color: “There is a sun, a light that for want of another word I can only call yellow, pale sulphur yellow, pale golden citron. How lovely yellow is!” - Vincent van Gogh. That is to say, I love yellow. Particularly citrine yellow or golden hour yellow or mustard yellow. My heart is yellow.

Currently Watching: Re-watching Survivor, currently on season 40. I also watch a lot of Financial Audit with Caleb Hammer on Youtube, and DangerouslyFunny on Youtube!

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: ....Salty? I'm a big fan of all of these, but if I think of this in what I prefer to eat, I'd say sweet or salty. When I cook though, it's usually savory and spicy!

Relationship Status: Married to the weirdest, smartest, and most loyal woman in the world. We're an open marriage and poly, so I'm also recently "single" because I broke up with my boyfriend of nearly a year.

Current Obsession: RWRB and the Simon Snow series! Also, with the release of Epic the Musical, I've been really getting into Classical Mythology. I'm reading the Iliad right now, and I've got the Odyssey queued up to read next.

Last Thing You Googled: "How to Re-hydrate a Meatball" lmao, the recipe I used had severely messed up proportions, and they were dry as hell. They did not get eaten xD

Thank you again for the tags!!

I'm late with this, and I've seen it go around, so I'm sure everyone has already done this, but just in case, I'll throw out some no-pressure tags!

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @thewholelemon, @roomwithanopenfire, @beastmonstertitan, and @blackberrysummerblog <3

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (part two)

now: here's what some of you actually wanted to see yesterday.

a quick rundown for anyone who has no idea what this is: here's ch 1 on tumblr and ao3. I posted an updated version of ch 1 yesterday that flows a bit nicer, and recommend checking that out if you haven't already.

and, while it's even less necessary to do, consider checking this post out, too. the context in which it was written is kind of... irrelevant to this fic, honestly, but it provides a bit of background that I think enhances some of what's going on in this chapter and the next one (that I haven't written yet).

with that out of the way, this chapter is over 7k, so here's the ao3 link if you prefer. (there's also a bit of a longer author's note there at the end) if you'd like to stick to tumblr, follow me under the cut.

edit: part three

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (part two)

Even the usually oblivious Tanimoto-san noticed my listless mood in the following days. It wasn’t unusual for me to worry or speculate about my clients—everyone who stepped into Richard’s store certainly had some kind of interesting quality, but something about Hanzawa tugged oddly at my chest.

To complicate matters, I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Richard had spent Sunday carrying on as usual, but every once in a while, he’d drift into his thoughts and his brows would furrow like something was bothering him. This wasn’t a trait unique to Hanzawa’s presence, but this was possibly the first time I’d seen Richard look genuinely unsettled instead of troubled.

It wasn’t an expression I liked seeing on his face.

“Seigi-kun, you seem deep in thought,” Tanimoto-san said. “Something on your mind?” 

Class had ended. I flipped aimlessly through the pages of the book on gemstones I’d borrowed from Richard before tucking it into my bag. Somehow, I didn’t quite feel as if I could meet her eyes. “You mentioned there were many gems that did heat treatment, right?” I asked as we began to shuffle out of the classroom. 

She responded with less cheer than usual, and I felt dejected to be the cause. “Oh, yes… not just corundum,” she said. “Beryl and quartz, too. That encompasses a large quantity of jewels which are just named as different forms of these materials, really… heat treatment is used often to change their color. Apart from deepening the red of a ruby, there’s aquamarine—a type of beryl—which is most commonly green-blue. Heat treatment tends to enhance the blue color and really give it that expected ‘aqua’ color. One of the most dramatic transformations, to me, is amethyst—it can turn a deep orange when it’s treated with heat.” 

“Ah—I saw that last weekend,” I said. “It’s meant to mimic citrines, right?”

“Citrines tend to be a paler yellow, actually,” Tanimoto-san said. “But they’re rare—especially ones with a deep orange color. That’s why heat-treatment of amethysts is so common.” She sighed, gaze drifting off in space as we headed to her next class. “When we think of the term ‘citrus,’ the first thing that comes to mind is often an orange, despite the variety of citrus fruits in other colors. Sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason people mistake amethysts for citrine so easily.” 

“It fits with their preconceived notions, huh?” I said, earning an approving nod from Tanimoto-san. “I still remember what you said before—about wanting to appreciate the stones as they were without heat treatment. I thought that was a really beautiful idea.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi-kun,” she said. We came to a halt in front of her next classroom, but she didn’t go inside just yet. “But we’d talked about this already… is there something else you wanted to ask me?” 

I swallowed around an uncomfortable bit of air. We were early for her class—it wasn’t a particularly long walk from classroom to classroom, but I liked spending time with her—but she usually went directly inside. It’s so nice of her to take time out of her day to worry about me, I thought. But again, I knew that I must have been really out of sorts for her to notice. 

“It was just mentioned in passing,” I said at her prompting, “But… well, a client was discussing agate, and I heard that some of them were dyed. Is that a common process?” 

Her expression immediately soured. For a minute I thought I’d stepped on some kind of conversational landmine, but though she looked unhappy, she spoke without malice. “It’s—not uncommon, no. Agate is porous, so it absorbs dye well, as do any stones like it.” I could see her turning over her words with care. “But… while heat treatment is an irreversible process, dyeing tends to be less effective. The color can fade over time, especially under sunlight, and it may not stain evenly. And depending on what dye is used, it can be removed with solvents like acetone… so it’s a process that’s much less certain.” 

“So, they’re kind of fragile,” I observed, “even if they’re made to look nicer.” 

“Well, they certainly look pretty—the bright colors can enhance how distinct the banding is, so you could argue the dye only enhances the best features of agate and other types of chalcedony, but…” 

“…But?” 

“Dyeing stones is really common for selling fakes,” she said. “And well—I just think that’s inexcusable, to conceal the truth like that. Even though dyed stones can be detected, that’s usually only after they’re sold, right? And this often happens with online purchases, so… I can’t help but feel resentful.” She frowned. “And every time I’ve traveled to see something related to rocks, the gift shop always carried those tumbled and dyed stones! It’s hard to find anything else…” 

“That must be tough,” I said, though it was hard to suppress a smile at the thought of Tanimoto-san scowling in the middle of a gift shop. She usually seemed so magnanimous, and it was nice to see that she had her weak points, too. 

She pouted. “I know it’s a petty reason, okay!” she said. A touch more melancholy, she added, “But every time I see them, I want to stand up and yell at everyone that rocks and minerals are more interesting than that, because it feels like these polished stones and other kinds of jewels are the only kind of beauty that people care about. For all kinds of rocks and minerals… I don’t think they possess a beauty that is just skin-deep. But when you limit the conversation to just rocks, because they look so different, the interests just don’t overlap…” She glanced up at me, seemed to realize that the type of person she was talking about was right next to her, and hurried to clarify. “Ah—I didn’t mean that as a strike against you though, Seigi-kun.” 

“No, I totally understand,” I quickly reassured her. “I mean, in an ideal world, that’s how we want to think of other people, too, right? Without judging based on the outside alone. And I think anyone would want to share their interest with more people. So, if what you like is rarer, or unappreciated, it feels sad, right?” 

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. She smiled. “…I really am glad we get to talk about gemstones. I always feel like I end up hearing something interesting.” 

Not for the first time, I thought that Tanimoto-san was some kind of angel. I truly didn’t have any questions about rocks to reciprocate with, except— “There’s a few rocks that do count as gemstones, right?” I asked. “Like lapis lazuli.” 

“You remembered!” Tanimoto-san exclaimed. “Lapis lazuli’s a particularly special rock, you know,” she said, a gleam in her eyes. “Historically, it was used to make this very expensive blue paint…” 

“Ah—ultramarine, right?” 

“Exactly!” Tanimoto-san said, clapping her hands in excitement. “Seems like you’re already an expert on it, Seigi-kun.” 

“I just heard it in passing,” I explained sheepishly. “That customer from before—he and my boss talked about ultramarine for a bit.” I paused to recollect the various times I’d spotted the stone in Jewelry Étranger. “Though, the stone looks so unbelievable to me on its own that it feels strange to think it would ever be used for paint…”  

“It is one of the beauties of metamorphism,” Tanimoto-san agreed. Or at least, I was assuming she was. 

“Sorry, but… what exactly is metamorphism again?” I asked. “I feel like I’ve heard the term before, and I just don’t remember.” 

Despite the various expressions I’d put on her face today and in all the other conversations we’d had, this was the first time I’d ever seen Tanimoto-san look truly dumbfounded. It took me a while to even realize that was the expression on her face, until she cleared her throat and said, “I guess you said yourself you didn’t know much about rocks, but… well, I thought this was common knowledge, and maybe it… isn’t?” Worriedly, like she’d just learned she was privy to a secret for which she hadn’t voluntarily been made a confidant, she asked, “I mean, everyone knows that the three common classifications of rocks are sedimentary, igneous, and metamorphic, right?”  

“…That rings a bell?” I said unconvincingly. 

Her eyes flickered towards the classroom—she had only a few minutes before her next class started, so I imagined she would head inside, but instead she squared her shoulders, formed a distinctly “Golgo” look on her face, and said, “Well—metamorphic rocks are basically a type of rock that’s actually a combination of other rocks and minerals. So that’s how lapis lazuli has that beautiful gold coloring—it comes from the pyrite that’s part of the rock. The main blue comes from lazurite, but there’s many more mineral components that are mixed in with an average lapis lazuli.” 

“And metamorphism is how these rocks form?” 

“Right,” Tanimoto-san said. “Basically, they’re put under a lot of heat and pressure, and because of that, the composition of the rock ends up changing—so, for lapis lazuli, all these separate things fuse—or the crystal structure shifts, which is a kind of complicated thing to explain… But by the end, the new rock is distinct when compared to the simple sum of its parts. Something like marble or slate… you wouldn’t call simply a combination of other things, right?” 

“I would never have known unless you told me… that’s amazing,” I marveled. “In a way… it’s kind of nature’s own heat treatment, huh?” 

“That’s true,” Tanimoto-san said. “Just one without any motivation.”

This was something that had always fascinated me regarding jewels. Of course, it was untrue that they existed without human involvement. But before any human had laid eyes upon it, lapis lazuli had always been that brilliant combination of blue and gold. That, to me, was something like a miracle.

“You must have had an interesting customer this week, right?” Tanimoto-san guessed.

I shook myself out of my thoughts. “What?” 

“Well, Seigi-kun, you’re always curious,” she said, “So maybe it’s nothing. But this time you look like you really want to say something to someone.” She tapped the space between her brows. “Don’t let it give you wrinkles, though!” 

With that, she hurried into class, taking her seat just a few seconds before the professor began her lecture. I was left standing dumbly in the hallway, stuck with my swirling thoughts. Though I’d glossed over it at first, I supposed I was of the same mind as Tanimoto-san; dyeing stones felt more like concealment than enhancement. And then I remembered what I likely wasn’t meant to hear—surely that dyed agate is prettier—and reached up to my forehead.

Sure enough, I was frowning. I wanted to pull out my phone and text Richard something along the lines of This is your fault, but that would be truly nonsensical, and really, what I wanted wasn’t to assign something like blame. But since I couldn’t just run to him, I decided to follow Tanimoto-san’s advice and smooth out my expression. 

———

“Ah… Nakata-san?”

Richard had said that most serendipitous encounters were just a natural consequence of learning more about the world, but I was pretty sure this situation was the exclusive work of strange fortune. Though I doubted this surprise encounter would go as badly as the last one had, the sharp sense of déjà vu kept me wary.

Still, I inhaled a breath of crisp morning air, and replied, “It’s alright to call me Seigi.”

I was looking up at the face of Hanzawa Masato, who truthfully had been the furthest thing from my mind in the past few days. That space in my brain had been usurped and summarily overwhelmed by the tedium of classes and assignments. If I had to learn how to draw another kind of economic model using another set of conditions and parameters, my head was going to burst. In fact, my head ached at the thought alone.

Now that we were face to face again, though, the rigamarole of university had all but disappeared from my mind, and I watched his face contort into an expression halfway between awkwardness and concern. The awkwardness was a given—I hadn’t expected to run into him either. Half the reason for his concern was a girl from my university who I’d just learned was called Kaede. And the other half of his concern—a quarter of his total expression—was in response to seeing me, who’d just been shoved into the side of a building.

Maybe that was the reason my head ached. It was certainly the reason I was sitting down and staring up at him.

“Are you okay?” Kaede fretted. She had sunk into a worried crouch in front of me, hands hovering around my head like she could divine the nature of my injuries. 

I pressed a hand to my cheek, which was stinging, but didn’t feel scraped, and hauled myself upright. Any dizziness I’d felt had faded, and though one of my arms felt numb, I’d gotten worse injuries doing karate. “I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just a surface-level injury. Probably looks worse than it is. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine—not a scratch!” she reported, standing up to demonstrate her lack of injury. “I had no idea he would do that, though. I’m so sorry—” 

“Don’t be,” I cut in before she could self-flagellate. “It’s not your fault at all.” 

Were I feeling charitable, I’d point out that I didn’t think the guy in question had even meant to push me into a wall—he’d just meant to push me and bolt. But he was also the kind of asshole that cornered people against the side of a building, so I wasn’t going to defend him in the slightest. 

“What happened?” Hanzawa asked.

I felt a little ill-at-ease seeing the sheer expressiveness on his face. Of course, it made sense that he’d be so frazzled, considering what had just happened to his friend, but it was uncomfortable to see his lack of composure. Like this, he looked like an ordinary, unremarkable teenager.

Kaede wrung her hands, stumbling through her words. “I—you know that senior who was bothering me? Well, he cornered me, and we started arguing, and then”—she gestured in my direction—“he hit him and ran away.” 

“I heard shouting, so I came over here,” I added when Hanzawa looked to me for further explanation.

It was really as simple as that. After exiting a horrendously early class, I’d heard arguing near the shadowed side of the building. And once I’d seen Kaede telling the other guy to leave her alone, I’d intervened without hesitation. He’d started aggressively posturing at me before shoving me to the side and running away.

The sharp spike of adrenaline I’d felt at the time was now wearing off, and my injuries began to twinge. I took a deep breath, and in an effort not to dash after the guy, I suggested, “We should make a report or something.” 

“Oh, right,” Kaede said, fishing out her phone. “There’s like… campus administration or something, right? Let me find out wherever it’s located.” She paused in thought. “Wait… do you two know each other?” 

“We just met by coincidence once,” I said, figuring that Hanzawa would value his privacy.

It was enough of an answer for Kaede, who just laughed and said, “Masato-kun knows, like, everyone, so it’s not really a surprise!” 

I was relieved to see that she didn’t seem too shaken by everything.

Soon enough, we were pointed the way of campus authorities, and I learned the full story while Kaede made her report. Apparently, this guy had been bothering her for a while after they’d met at a mixer—he’d seen her waiting to meet up with Hanzawa, and then blown up at her when she declined to spend time with him. Since he already had quite a few conduct violations on his record, the administration assured us that they’d act quickly. 

Their urgency might have also been prompted by the blatant injury on my face. Every time someone turned to face me, they would reflexively wince at the circle of reddened skin on my cheek. I’d seen it in a mirror while getting my injuries checked out—I was officially deemed concussion-free, which was a relief—and had flinched at my own reflection in surprise.

Amidst the commotion, Hanzawa stayed level-headed, guiding Kaede through the motions of making a report. Even though he wasn’t a student at my university—a fact which was strangely relieving to confirm—it was like he’d gone through this process before. I thought he’d escort Kaede home, too, but once everything had been squared away, she called some of her university friends to pick her up. They arrived with a slew of inventive insults that seemed to cheer Kaede up in an instant. She thanked me again as we swapped numbers, and then she waved us goodbye as she was whisked away by her friends. 

“You’re not going with her?” I asked. 

“Her other friends will be much better at taking her mind off things,” he said. “Besides, they all go to your university, so they can accompany her during classes.” He turned to face me as he spoke, and though he didn’t wince, his gaze lingered on my cheek.

“I’m alright,” I said. “I even got an ice pack when we were making the report.”  

“Still…” Hanzawa said. Hesitantly, he asked, “Could I treat you to lunch? Or a coffee?” 

The sun was high in the sky. On one hand, I wasn’t particularly hungry, but coffee sounded nice, and I didn’t have classes until later this evening. On the other hand, Hanzawa looked like he was already regretting the offer.

But Tanimoto-san was right; I had a few things I wanted to say to him. And despite his hesitation, it looked like Hanzawa felt the same. 

“Sure,” I said. “You can pick the place.” 

———

Hanzawa’s coffee order was a little more complicated than mine. Hearing him rattle off his order made me realize that Richard was right to only offer tea at his shop. The café he’d picked out was like many of the other cafés I’d been to—peaceful, atmospheric, and a neutral ground for conversations. Once we’d taken our seats, we each waited in a brittle kind of silence.

Hanzawa began to fiddle with his phone, and I took it as a clear indication he wasn’t ready to talk. My coffee arrived first, so I savored it while gazing through one of the café windows. Outside, the weather had snapped into a bitter frost, as it seemed wont to do whenever I wasn’t looking. I shivered a little—even inside the temperature-regulated café, I’d dressed a little lightly for the cold—and let the coffee’s steam curl against my skin. Though I couldn’t call myself a connoisseur, I’d begun to appreciate coffee for more than its caffeine. 

It was just one more thing I’d learned how to treasure since I’d met Richard. Thinking of him, I reflexively touched my face. We weren’t anywhere near Ginza, but I could imagine the shop’s entrance in front of me as I stared out the window.

“Is there something you’re worried about?” 

I started, noting that Hanzawa’s coffee had appeared between his hands. He held the cup strangely, his fingers curled around the sides without any pressure; I worried that it might slip from his fingers if he tried to lift it. Still, the pose seemed so natural for him that I wondered if he’d held the tea at Jewelry Étranger the same way, and I just hadn’t noticed. Like that time, any initial hesitation of his had melted away into a self-assured grace.

“I was just thinking…” I replied, tapping my reddened skin, “it’s going to bruise.” 

“Ah,” Hanzawa said. His eyes darted around the room—he could probably sense the curious looks I’d gotten, too, but that wasn’t my main concern. “You’re worried about your weekend work, I assume?” 

“No, it’s—actually, yeah, I am,” I said, cutting off my instinctive denial. First Tanimoto-san, and now Hanzawa… I wondered if my face was just becoming easier to read. 

“I doubt a bruised face is good for customer service,” he added, clarifying exactly where my thoughts had headed.

I explained, “I’d rather not scare the customers, and it’s something I’ve done even without my face like this, so…”

“That would be troubling,” Hanzawa said. “I’d apologize for the situation, but…”

“There’s no need for apologies,” I stressed. “You and Kaede already thanked me, and there’s no need to apologize for someone else’s mistakes.”

Still holding the cup as if it were air, Hanzawa slowly sipped his coffee. My attention was drawn to his fingers, which were exceptionally long, and neatly trimmed at the nails. “I’m glad you think so, Seigi—it’s alright to call you that, yes?” When I nodded, he set his cup down and made a confession: “I’m not entirely without ulterior motives, though—it’s not every day you meet someone with your job, you know? I like hearing from interesting people, so this is just me indulging in my curiosity, really. What was the application process like?”

“Ah… I didn’t quite apply,” I answered. Maybe I’d just developed a streak of cynicism, but I didn’t believe that he had invited me to coffee out of pure curiosity. I briefly imagined someone taking my place—making tea, talking with Richard, and learning about our clients—and felt a wave a jealousy so strong that I added, “I don’t really think he’s looking to hire anyone new…” 

Hanzawa laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m just asking out of curiosity. I’m not looking for a job right now.”  

“Ah,” I said, and drank some of my coffee to cover my embarrassment. “Anyways, even when we first met, I don’t think he was looking to hire anyone.”

“Is that so?” Hanzawa asked, a clear prompt for me elaborate.

I had no desire to do so. Instead, I was distracted by the thought of Hanzawa as an employee of Jewelry Étranger. He seemed like he would excel at any job related to customer service, particularly when it came to making conversation. Even now, though I was conscious of the fact that he was leading the conversation, it didn’t bother me. But he wouldn’t know what sweets Richard liked best, or how to watch his expressions to figure out if he was enjoying them. And he wouldn’t know how to brew royal milk tea—not that I’d known that, either…

“I approached him about a family heirloom of mine, and he offered me a job afterwards,” I finally summed up.

Thankfully, Hanzawa didn’t pry any further. “I can see why,” he said. “Something about you must have been unique enough to convince him, right?” 

“…You think so?” I asked, ducking my head. It was amazing how one word—unique—was enough to dispel my worries. Saying I had a talent for recognizing beauty—that already made me feel like the most special person in the world. The implication that Richard recognizing that had been a testament to my uniqueness was unbelievably flustering. Rather than think about it for too long, I downed my coffee. 

“I just thought that if he wasn’t looking to hire someone,” Hanzawa said, “it means that you must have been important enough to ask for, anyways. The atmosphere at your store would make one think you two had been friends for years.” 

I felt warmer than usual. “I just… guess we aligned somehow,” I murmured, feeling a need to deflect the compliment. As much as I privately liked to think of our meeting as “fate,” hearing it from a veritable stranger was something else. “Richard is—he’s almost too incredible, I think. I’m lucky to work there.” 

Hanzawa considered my statement carefully, and then asked, “Is it—and I could be overstepping, here, but—is it kind of a… scary feeling?” 

“No, you’re right,” I said, feeling a euphoric rush of shared understanding. “It’s—I’m happy, of course. It’s impossible not to be. But it almost makes everything else pale in comparison—” 

“And you begin to wonder where you’d be without it,” Hanzawa concluded, perfectly reading my mind.

I sighed. “I mean… it’s not like this will be my job forever, you know? But still, compared to going to university, whenever it’s the weekend, I feel like I’m ten times as real. Like I exist as… I don’t know, more than I am.” 

“As in… you’re able to express yourself more?” Hanzawa asked. 

I shook my head. “No, it’s like… I’m a more impressive person, even though nothing about me changes,” I said. “It feels like my actions have more meaning. And my world keeps expanding, each time.” When he didn’t respond, still wrapping his head around my words, I added, “…It might be a bit strange to blabber on and on about my job satisfaction. But I really think that being able to work where I do is a miracle of some kind.” 

“I see what you mean,” he finally replied as he sipped his coffee. “In a way, Richard-san’s store feels like… a place that’s too good to be true, it could be said?” 

“That’s exactly it!” I exclaimed. “And then once you meet Richard, it’s like… he’s a fairy prince or something that’s descended on the mortal world…” 

Hanzawa fell into a sudden coughing fit. 

I scrambled out of my seat, but he weakly waved me off, and so I stood over the table, watching him regain control of his throat. “Are you alright?” 

He took a few deep breaths. “I’m fine,” he said, though he looked obviously embarrassed as he met my eyes. “I was just—taken off guard, I guess. You must really respect Richard-san. Have you… told him this?” 

With a new understanding as to why Kaede had so uselessly hovered around me, I slipped back into my own seat. “Well, of course,” I said slowly, wondering what I wasn’t getting. “I needed to express my gratitude to him.” 

Hanzawa stared up at the ceiling like he’d received some kind of divine revelation. “And he reacted… well?” he ventured. 

I suddenly remembered the many, many times Richard had scolded me for speaking without considering the implications, and I grimaced. “I’m not great with words, so I’ve definitely put my foot in my mouth a few times, but… sincerity is worth the embarrassment, I think,” I said, refraining from adding that I liked to think it was at least part of the reason he’d hired me. “And, though he’s annoyingly mysterious sometimes, he’s sincere to me, too.” 

“How nice…” It was impossible not to hear the wistful edge in Hanzawa’s voice. He seemed to hear it too, because he added, “Well, I do wish you two the best,” with a knowing smile. 

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the distance in his voice. Despite talking about Richard and the shop, Hanzawa hadn’t once mentioned his own visit or his upcoming appointment.

Before I could prod him about it, Hanzawa cleared his throat and asked, “You’ve finished your coffee?”

I looked down at my cup, which had been empty for quite a while. “Yeah,” I said, bracing for a quick goodbye.

A strange look passed over Hanzawa’s face as he drained his cup, and he set it down on the table with a soft clink. His gaze moved sideways—I followed his line of sight, but it led nowhere. “If—if the bruising is a problem,” Hanzawa haltingly began, “I could… I might have a solution.” 

The words looked painful for him to say. “You’re already treating me to coffee,” I assured. “There’s no need to do me another favor.” 

He shook his head, firmer. “This… as I said, this was kind of a selfish request, anyways. If you’re willing, I’d be happy to help.” 

I wasn’t about to turn down the chance to hear him talk. Maybe, if I gathered enough courage, I’d even be able to ask him about dyed stones. “Well… what did you have in mind?” 

———

Much like the first time I’d visited the jewelry section of a department store, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. This time, it wasn’t at the sight of diamonds as far as the eye could see, but of the bright lights, glossy photos, and shelves upon shelves of products I wasn’t sure how to name. I half-recognized some of the brand names scattered around the store, but otherwise felt wholly out of my depth. 

Were it not for the presence of a guide, I’d have never come here. But Hanzawa was shifting his feet next to me, a skittish look in his eyes like he was convinced I’d back out at any moment. That was the same way he’d broached the subject, too, saying, “Well… you could probably cover that bruise with makeup,” in a tone so soft I’d barely heard him.

“How?” I’d asked, pouncing on the option a little too eagerly. 

Hanzawa drummed his fingers against his empty cup. “It’s pretty easy,” he said. “I could teach you, but we’d have to buy some products, because we don’t have the same skin tone.” He mulled over his next words.

“There’s a department store near here,” I offered. 

At that, he seemed to relax. “My older sister is really into makeup and costuming,” he said with a light laugh, “so I ended up being forced into knowing a few things myself.”

Things moved quickly after that. He paid for my coffee, and I followed him to the nearest department store before he could have too many second thoughts. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand his hesitation—we were still practically strangers, and this was an offer that required considerable involvement on his part. Still, more than anything, I didn’t want to skip work. And as little as I knew Hanzawa, he seemed like the kind of person who would never suggest something that wasn’t an actual solution. 

“You’ll have to lead the way,” I finally prompted.

Hanzawa paused and corrected his posture. “Right,” he said, picked up a basket near the entrance, and then struck a path through the various displays, waving off staff with a polite, inscrutable smile. 

For all he’d been hesitant, Hanzawa navigated the store with a brilliant kind of confidence. Apart from the two of us, there were barely any men in the store, but Hanzawa didn’t look out of place in the slightest. Soon enough we were left to wander around unapproached. 

Finally, we came to a stop in front of a display that carried a variety of tubes in a variety of skin tones. Hanzawa leaned forward to inspect them, and I caught sight of the barely visible piercing holes in his ears.

“You’re not wearing earrings,” I observed. 

He answered me without turning his head. “I suppose it’s a leftover habit from high school,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t wear them in class, because—well, it’s a bit of a delinquent look, and I was the president of the disciplinary club.”

That explained why he’d been so composed when helping Kaede earlier. I wonder if he’d acquired that sense of reliability from his time in the club, or if had been the reason he’d joined. “What… am I supposed to get, here?” I asked, pointing at the display.

“To cover your bruise, we’ll need concealer, foundation, and a setting spray, probably? So right now, we’re looking for foundations that match your skin tone. What color do you usually bruise?” 

“…Purple, I guess?” 

“Then we’ll get a yellow color corrector to offset it,” Hanzawa said, plucking a foundation from the shelf. He held it up to the light—the color was kind of close to my skin, I supposed, but there were a lot that looked just like it. 

“How are you supposed to figure out the right color?” I asked. 

“Oh—you can sample it,” Hanzawa said, and he motioned for me to hold my hand out. We swatched various foundations on the back of my hand as Hanzawa explained to me the basic methodology for covering a bruise. The color corrector would negate the purple hues of my bruise, concealer would properly cover it up with my actual skin tone, and foundation would provide a smooth cover that blended with the rest of my face. The setting spray was just to make sure everything held for the entire time I was working. “You’ll probably want makeup brushes, too,” Hanzawa said as he explained how to apply everything. “We can buy some, or I could maybe lend you mine…” 

I could see him trying to work out how to lend me makeup brushes in a way that wouldn’t require an additional meeting. “No, I’ll get one of my own,” I said. 

“You sure?” he asked. 

I nodded. “It’s kind of weird to say this, but… somehow, I feel like this may not be the last time I need something like this?” 

Satisfied with the last foundation we’d tried, Hanzawa showed me how to remove all the makeup on my hand before leading me to another display. There he found a standard set of makeup brushes and gingerly placed it into his basket. “Well, I suppose you do lead quite an exciting life,” he commented. 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten injured,” I said. “But there are a lot of interesting people at Richard’s shop, so I guess I do end up having interesting experiences.” I paused. Like this, actually, I didn’t say, and instead asked, “You mentioned your older sister taught you this?” 

“It’s not really that I was taught,” Hanzawa clarified. “It was more like… a natural consequence of existing around her? I ended up knowing a lot of the terminology, and I’d get dragged to places like these, too. At that point, you have to at least learn the basics.” 

I’d never had a sibling before, so I wondered if it was natural for everyone to pick up skills from their family like this. With my mother, we’d always maintained a certain sense of distance, and with my stepfather overseas, the only one who could maybe qualify as family was Richard. Who I had, indeed, learned a lot from. “And you learned more on your own, afterwards?” 

“Well, at my high school, our cultural festival holds a cross-dressing competition each year—it was an all-boys school, hence the tradition—and I ended up learning a bit more because of that. One of my classmates actually attends cosmetology school, now, which is where I learned how to do this.” He gestured in the direction of my reddened cheek. 

I reached up on instinct, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was walking around with such an obvious injury. I’d attributed the stares of passerby to the fact that I looked out of place in a makeup store, but this was probably the real reason.

Hanzawa studied my face, and his tone gentled. “It’s been a valuable skill to me,” he murmured. “Makeup gives us the ability to beautify.” 

Hand still pressed against my cheek, I confessed, “I’d never really thought of it that way, before. Though I don’t really know anything, really. But I’d always thought of it as… having something to hide, I guess.” I felt like a fool as soon as the words left my mouth.

“Well,” Hanzawa said, still low and quiet, “I suppose we are aiming to hide that bruise of yours. But there is value even in concealment, I think.” A wry smile graced his mouth. “Speaking of.” 

We’d lingered for too long in one place, and so we moved to collect a bottle of setting spray and a pale-yellow color corrector before stopping to search through a row of concealers. As we compared various shades on my hand, I recalled the conversation I’d had with Richard about tiramisu.

“…Don’t people also value the truth, though?” I asked. 

The shade Hanzawa had tested was far darker than it had looked in the tube. He paused over my hand, and without lifting his head, said, “Perhaps I’m being cynical… but I think most people only value the truth when it is beautiful.” He paused to dab a different concealer on my hand. “I don’t think you’re wrong—people do value authenticity. That’s exactly why so many makeup advertisements discuss how to achieve a natural look, or how to enhance your natural features by smoothing out ‘imperfections’… we’ve defined a kind of beauty that is meant to emulate reality, but that doesn’t mean it is reality.”

Though I couldn’t see his expression, I could hear the raw sincerity in his voice. Something clicked into place, and I realized that for Hanzawa, enhancement was the same as concealment.

“The kinds of beauty we recognize are usually just skin-deep, huh…” I said, echoing the conversation I’d had with Tanimoto-san.

“And everyone prefers to be beautiful,” Hanzawa said.

Yamamoto-san, too, had thought that beauty was a great advantage. “Doesn’t beauty come with its own disadvantages, though?” I asked. At Hanzawa’s curious look, I paraphrased how Richard had described his own experiences. “Like, if you’re so beautiful that people think you’re unapproachable, isn’t that hard?”

“I suppose so,” Hanzawa said. “You’re talking about a kind of… unreal beauty, right? Like your boss.”

“Ah… was it obvious?”

Hanzawa smiled. “A little.” He hummed for a bit in thought, and then said, “In either direction, I think there’s a fear of… standing out, or looking odd. That’s why we’re here. Though I suppose there might be some people who have enough pride to eschew standards.”

The shade he’d just tried was a perfect match. “When you put it that way… there’s definitely times I don’t want to say everything about myself,” I conceded, remembering how I’d felt when confronted by Mami-san’s deep, uncomfortable sense of shame. “Having that kind of pride is… an ideal, but just that.” As much as Richard liked to ask if I had ever decided to think before I spoke, I, too, had things I found hard to say. 

“That’s everything, I think,” Hanzawa said, adding the concealer to the basket. “I’ve got makeup wipes with me, so you can just have them. Since we’re here, though, do you mind if I make a quick detour?” 

“Go ahead,” I said, and Hanzawa drifted through the store at a leisurely pace, inspecting different products. I took the time to observe the various advertisements pasted around the store, noting that Hanzawa’s description hadn’t been incorrect. Then I observed the array of colors scattered around the store as Hanzawa inspected different kinds of eyeshadow. “I guess blue is rare here, too.” 

“Hm?” 

“I was just reminded of ultramarine,” I said, pointing towards the overwhelming set of pinks and reds in a collection of lipsticks. “It was prized not just because the stone was precious, but because blue was a rare pigment color, right?”

“…Lapis lazuli sure was a precious stone,” Hanzawa replied. “In addition to blue’s rarity, I’d think it would be hard to collect pieces without significant gold spots. When ground into pigment, those colors would muddy the blue. If one needed to source pure blue lapis lazuli for ultramarine, that would only further increase its rarity and value.” 

 “Wait, are you majoring in economics?” I blurted out, a little bewildered by the clarity of his explanation.

Distracted from his inspection of an eyeshadow palette, Hanzawa turned to squint at me, bemused. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Are you?”

“I am, yeah.” I floundered, wondering how to explain that for just a moment, Hanzawa had reminded me of Richard. Maybe he was training to be a diplomat—that would explain why even when he spoke casually, every word felt measured. He was certainly better at speaking than me, who couldn’t figure out how to casually ask him what he was actually majoring in.

At my lost expression, Hanzawa laughed and went back to searching through eyeshadows. “…You actually remind me of someone I know.”

“How so?” 

“A few things, I think,” Hanzawa said. “You’re both… open to many new experiences.” Though the fondness in his voice was palpable, it was deeply careful, like he was letting me know the shades of some terrible secret.

“You don’t find them exciting?” 

“And equally likely to be hurtful,” he rebutted, though not aggressively. 

Hanzawa took my answering silence as agreement—which it partially was—and continued looking around the store. Conscious of the time we’d spent wandering, he explained, “The color I’m looking for is uncommon. Eyeshadows have more variety than lipsticks do, but the majority stay within the range of pinks to browns.”

“Even though it’s not a problem to make blue pigment anymore, it’s still a matter of supply and demand, isn’t it?” I surmised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone wear blue lipstick.”

“The kind of people that do are amazing to me,” Hanzawa said. “Whether it’s simply a matter of liking it or wanting to be deviant from the norm—I think there’s a great strength in accepting oneself as anomalous.”

Finally, he picked out a sparkly lime green eyeshadow, and after holding the color up to the light, tucked it into his basket. It was no wonder he’d spent so much time searching—while accompanying him, I hadn’t seen a single product that looked like it.

“You really are fond of that color,” I noted. 

Hanzawa froze for a moment. “It’s for—the cultural festival, actually,” he explained. “I’m helping them out.” 

“Oh, I do something like that too—it’s with the karate class I used to attend back in middle school, though,” I shared. “You must be close with your juniors?” 

As we entered the checkout line, Hanzawa said, “I think it’s something like a leftover sense of responsibility. That guy… we used to be in the same club.” 

Before I could ask him what that guy meant, our attention was redirected to the cashier in front of us. She looked surprised to see two men in front of her, but quickly began scanning the items before her. “Picking up products for your girlfriends?” she asked with a smile, clearly hoping to ease our nerves. 

Hanzawa stepped forward, partially obscuring my view. “It’s for my older sister, actually,” he replied, the same smile mirrored on his face. “I just hope I’ve gotten it right!” 

Caught up in his mild, inconsequential lie, I stood there, hands hung limply at my side, as I realized that apart from her initial shock, she hadn’t once glanced at my cheek. To be accurate, Hanzawa hadn’t let her. This was probably what he’d meant by the value of concealment. It was like when Richard had pretended not to speak Japanese at that department store. While it wasn’t the truth, it was the option that limited any unwanted misunderstandings.

…Was it really because of his older sister that he’d learned how to do makeup? Or was that just the easiest explanation?

We exited the store with our purchases, and I handed over the eyeshadow to Hanzawa. He slipped it into his messenger bag, and in return, produced a pack of makeup wipes for me to take. “If you forget what to do, there’s a bunch of tutorials online,” Hanzawa reassured, gesturing to my bag of makeup.

“Thanks for the help,” I said. “I had a nice time, too—I feel like I got to hear from an interesting person, as well.”

“Don’t think too much of it—I was really just rambling,” he said dismissively before offering me a tight smile. “I do hope work goes well for you this weekend.” 

“…You’ll know, won’t you?” I asked, summoning a bit of courage. “Since you’ll be there.” 

“Ah,” Hanzawa said, and stilled before giving his confirmation. “…Yes, I will.” 

With that promise exacted from him, we naturally said our goodbyes and parted at a nearby street. The early morning chill had faded somewhat under the sun, and as I made my way back to campus, I thought about the many ways Richard’s face might change upon seeing Hanzawa arrive at his appointment. He wouldn’t give me a raise, but I’d get something out of it, nonetheless.

[terasutetrad-ruikamishiro]

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