#Color-Changing Gin

[m41to]

You're my everything

[zukkaoru]

[ID in alt text]

lesbian pride flag color picked from tachigin

[cacklefrendly]

merry crisis

this is my gift to myself: horrible career criminals being Silly And Domestic. Again. But This Time With SOUP.

Vodka can totally sing because nothing in canon says he can't.

(song is ''Hold On'' by Tom Waits)

[gglitchshit]

I'd like to thank Nintendo for everything ever

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[glitteratti]

just remembered the first martini i actually ever had wad one my aunt made me when she was staying with my sister and i while my dad was in the hospital recovering from a fun little disease they call “sudden heart failure in the middle of the night”

[hailthedragonmaster]

gin mixed drink and curry my beloveds <3

drinking while cooking is so funnnn

[sushirrrry]

would love to see a blurb about best friend harry thinking yn’s boyfriend doesn’t deserve her and accidentally confesses his feelings for her

bound a harry styles one-shot blurb; 7.2k words cw: fluff fluff and more fluff

When Harry had booked this trip, there were three things that he was looking forward to.

One of them was the open bar that their friends—the new Mr. and Mrs. Moxley—would be providing to them, which would include a couple gin and tonics too many.

The second was the beachfront room that he had scored from the credit card points he had expertly racked up the past few months, especially for this trip to Barcelona for his friend’s wedding. He thought he had scored a pretty good deal.

The third was seeing Cassidy for a weekend straight.

While the two of them lived in the same city, they were walking different paths at the moment, which had never been them. There were nights that they met for dinner, almost like nothing had changed. But Harry lived in South London; he had been working long nights in the museum, Cassidy was on the opposite side of the city working at her accounting position she had taken recently.

Both hadn’t had each other’s undivided attention in quite some time, and Harry was looking forward to the possibility of having that again. The kind of attention, the kind of laughs and indescribable joy that they had both needed—he was sure of it.

If there was one thing that he knew about Cass, it was that she was sprinting on the plane to get the vacation she had been looking forward to.

Plus, neither of them had a plus-one this time around.

That meant that it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn’t help but smirk every time he thought of it. Undivided attention.

Harry had thrown on a linen suit for the welcome party; the night before the wedding. He had started to unpack his room, trying to pass the time before he knew that Cass would arrive. Once he heard a buzzing on his phone, his head lifted from looking down into his suitcase and towards the device on the duvet.

If there was one thing Harry was going to do on his vacation, it was unpack the entirety of his suitcase before doing anything else.

iddy: smyf

The small acronym ‘show me your fit’ made him smile before he noticed a few more texts rolling in, the dots precursing them on the phone.

iddy: for tonight, not right now. I should have clarified. Please don’t send a pic of your penis

iddy: someone has to make sure I’m not overdressed. How do you dress for a pre-wedding dinner

The panic over the texts was exactly how Harry knew Cassidy; she worried over small things but overlooked the bigger picture. It was a small, miniscule flaw, really.

But before he’s able to even move towards the large mirror in his bathroom, his phone vibrates again. His attention is grabbed by the way that his eyes move over the image that comes in, rather than the words he had been reading from her.

And something about it made him stop in his tracks on his own way to show her what he had looked like.

Something about the way that she held the phone up to the mirror, giving a small pout—a playful one, as if unsure of herself. The way that the wisps of her hair were around her face, but the rest was pulled back by a clip—he was certain of it. She didn’t like having her hair down if she could help it.

Harry swallowed in the comfort of the room, almost like he was trying to keep himself from getting caught in the moment, even when no one was around. His eyes flew over the soft baby blue of the dress, the way that it dipped down, just a bit.

The way that the color danced over her tanned skin; maybe even a bit red from the sun he was certain that she had taken apart in as soon as they hopped off the plane. Harry knew that she bathed in the sun whenever it came out in London; she wouldn’t have gotten burned there, though.

There were dainty cream flower details—maybe stitching, even—on the dress as he zoomed in to get a better look at it.

His thumb cruised over the message, writing out a message before he pressed send.

Harry: good thing you told me not to send you a pic of my penis! Was about to!

Harry: also, you look beautiful, c

He frowned when she sent another message.

iddy: ok but am I overdressed

Harry: no, see

Harry held his phone up to the mirror as she had done to him—as they had done for one another many times before. But something about the way he looked in it bothered him for a moment. He fixed his hair, running his hand through it, almost to make sure that it looked much better than usual. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit before he sent the picture through to her.

The cream suit was opened, a white shirt settled underneath it. He wore a pair of his favorite white sneakers that fit like a glove, even a bit scuffed—but he felt that that balanced the outfit.

When he sent the photo, he waited a moment for Cass to send something back. But it felt like the longer he stared, the more pressure he felt to not see the grey dots coming back on the screen.

He bit the inside of his lip, waiting patiently before he locked the phone and slid it down into his pocket.

Instead of worrying about that, Harry checked his watch to see that it was closing in on six-thirty– which meant that he was fashionably late to the six o’clock time for the dinner.

He spritzed a bit more cologne, checked his teeth in the mirror, and pushed the bunches of curls off of his forehead that he meant to get cleaned up before coming on this trip but simply losing track of time.

He grabbed his wallet– hoping to not lose it or need it– and walked out of the hotel room door, down towards the lobby where he figured everyone would be gathering. He figured he'd take the long way, walking through some groups of people until he saw a grand staircase to lead down into the lobby area.

Harry figured that he would walk that way, down towards the main area where some familiar faces had collected for cocktail hour and drinks. His eyes maneuvered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Cass in any capacity.

Walking down the stairs, he saw Mari and Logan– the bride and groom– and greeted both of them accordingly. Mari and Harry had worked together back at uni, so they had become close friends. There may have been a night or two when Harry and Mari actually went home together, but they chalked that up to some consensual stress release.

When she started dating Logan, they started to hang around everyone more– which then included Cassidy. They would all go out together to the pubs after classes and had become really great friends since then. It was no surprise that this kind of event would bring them all together again.

“Have you guys seen Cass yet?” Harry asked, looking around. “I haven't seen here since she got here. She texted me but didn't get a response.”

Mari looked at him a bit suspiciously before turning to Logan for a moment. “Didn't you guys RSVP together?”

Harry looked up at her for a moment, shaking his head.

“No– I mean, no, I didn't respond with her name or anything. Did she do that for me?” He had thought that he marked one salmon meal and that was it.

Mari bit her lip as she blinked at him a few times. “No, but she RSPV’d a plus one, I think. Or she said something a few months ago– it's a bit fuzzy, but she told me she was coming with someone else. I– I mean, I was certain it would be you.”

Harry’s smile faltered just a bit before he shook his head, the hands in his pockets had turned to fists as he turned to look around him. Wondering if he'd lay eyes on her or watch her holding hands with another guy.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen that before, but the excitement of seeing her for the first time in a while was slowly dwindling before he turned his head for what felt like the millionth time looking for her.

But this time, his vision landed on her. The rosy colored glasses that he saw her threw was starting to dim as the picture got a bit blurry.

The baby blue dress that fell just below her knees, the dip in the front. The silky material hung on her body, but his eyes stood on the hand that hand firmly on her waist as if to keep her tucked into him.

His greatest fears becoming reality as he looked up the girl giggling at a probable reasonable remark.

Cassidy took a break from her schoolgirl giggling to see Mari and Logan standing there, looking at her and the person practically wrapped around her. But when looked up to see that Harry had also been standing right there, a sudden course of fear trembled through her.

Fear was a strong word; worry was more like it.

She had known how Harry was, which is why she kept this a secret from him. Now, he was forced to get to know her boyfriend of three months because they were here on their own accord for a weekend. They would spend it together, having each other in their lives for a weekend. That's what he had requested, and what she could agree to.

He had promised her that– even if he hadn't realized that had included this moment right here, yet.

“Hi, guys!” Cass put on her smile, a gorgeous one that pushed the dimples on her chin forward. “Mari, you look so beautiful!”

The girls wove into a hug, Harry standing and staring at the man who had let Cassidy go– looking a bit as if he was uncomfortable at letting someone else touch her. His eyes stayed on them as Cassidy pulled back and moved onto Logan, congratulating them on the whole marriage thing.

It was like she was taking a moment before she would get to him. She looked at Mari’s ring, gushing about how beautiful it was and she beautiful she looked.

Her eyes reached Harry’s then, a sheepish smile on her face before she pushed her arms out to wrap her arms around him, one over his shoulder and the other around his ribs.

“It's so good to see you.” She commented; he wanted to say something back but the comfort of her made his face retreat into the slot of her shoulder and neck.

When they pulled away, he got a real look at her and gave her the smile she had been waiting to see.

“So glad you're here.” He told her before feeling like a blush had intermittently taken its place in his cheeks.

Their connection had faded a moment before she paused; she took a breath and stepped back before remembering the man who stood behind them.

“Guys, this is–“ She looked up at him, “This is Dalton. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and just thought it would be so good to introduce him here since we're all here.”

Harry had to try to remember to release the fists in his pocket before he would go to shake his hand.

“Dalton, this is Mari and Logan– the bride and groom,” She introduced, letting him shake their hands and give their respective hello’s, followed by congratulations and thanks. But then she turned to Harry, Dalton’s composure changing a moment before he watched Harry’s change too.

Cassidy felt small between them as she stares at the way they faced one another.

“Uh, Dalton, this is my friend, Harry. Harry, this is Dalton.”

Harry lets one of the sides of his face turn up in a smile before he reaches out to be the better person. “Best friend, actually. Nice to meet you.”

Cassidy looks at Harry, almost giving him a really?

The grip of the man’s hands together feels tense as Dalton gives him a courtesy, “Nice to meet you, too.”

As Cassidy watches the interaction, she notices that the way that Harry stands is taller and fuller—like he’s trying to prove to Dalton that he’s bigger, he’s better—that he could end him in a moment’s notice, if need be. She holds onto Dalton’s arm, practically pulling the man from his trance with trying to overthrow Harry’s dominance.

“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” She offers, giving Harry another grin before Cassidy and Dalton makes their way over to the bar area.

Harry watches tentatively before he notices that Logan and Mari are also a bit in shock by the interaction and the couth that Cassidy had to bring someone into this sacred space, once again. Harry knew how Cassidy felt most days about herself—she looked for the satisfaction of a partner, the confidence boost that having someone on her arm could bring her.

It was reassuring to Harry to think that she could go into a room by herself; owning the space and knowing who she was. That was what he was hoping for in this interaction, but instead, she had to enter with someone else.

And with that, came the idea that the men that Cassidy picked always had a knack for making her the jealous type. Harry could always tell that her reactions became much more aggressive, her body language becoming possessive.

Cassidy wanted to feel like she was the most special girl in the world, and somehow, Harry was always left picking up the pieces of her tortured, stomped on heart after the last guy had decided that she wasn’t good enough. What the men in Cass’ life failed to see, was that her heart was always borrowed, on loan. It was never theirs to keep, because they never nurtured it or regarded it in any sense.

Her kindness had been taken from granted, her will to give was always overused and spent.

Harry knew that his love for Cassidy ran deeper than the deepest oceans, and wider than the largest forests, but something inside of him knew that they were better off as friends. Maybe it was because she was smart, and he figured she would have figured it out by now; the way he looked at her overruled the way he would ogle art painted on canvas, or sculptures tall and mighty.

He was always there with a rose and a smile, standing outside her door after the last guy packed his belongings and left for good.

It was why watching her happy, standing by the bar without a care in the world broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew that he was always there to rescue her, and he could see by the way that the guy stood away from her—maybe even trying to get a glimpse of the other women around him. But Cassidy’s naivety kept her eyes locked on the man instead, her irises shaped like hearts.

Mari and Logan had started a new conversation with another few people, Harry stood with his hands in his pockets as he tried to figure out a course of action. He had figured that the night would be wasted away—quite literally and figuratively—with Cassidy by his side, but now he felt more alone than he had before.

A man with champagne on a tray walked by, and Harry grabbed two flutes. One for each hand. He downed one quickly before he made his way back to the bar where the two of them had been standing before setting one of the glasses down and keeping the other before he noticed that Cassidy had grabbed a glass of red wine—Cab Sav, most likely.

The man—Dalton—held a short, rocks-glass that just had something clear in it, possibly straight vodka, if he was brave.

“So, you really didn’t bring anyone? Haven’t met anyone yet? You’ve usually grabbed a few asses by now,” Cassidy spoke out, moving around Dalton to get closer to Harry. He turned his attention back to her, shaking his head a few times.

“No—I mean, I thought we were just going to hang out. I didn’t know you were bringing someone.” Harry’s eyes flicked up towards Dalton’s before he watched Cassidy bite her lip. The red on her lips had either been from the stain of the wine or the way she bit on her lip; either way, Harry found it to be enticing enough to stare for a beat too long.

“I—I don’t know, I just assumed you would have brought someone with you. Weren’t you seeing someone?”

Harry took a sip from the flute, shrugging casually, “Yeah. But not like, exclusively.”

Cassidy nodded a few times, raising her brows, “Is it ever exclusive with you?”

There was a teasing tone in her voice, but the way that her eyes lifted to investigate his own only made his stomach drop at the intention. Harry felt an incredible sting through his chest as he cleared his throat, almost to wash away the sensitivity that he felt around his heart.

He went to speak, but his lips didn’t seem to let any words leave. Instead, the bartender interrupted as Harry realized that there may have been a small line forming behind them.

Harry, Cassidy, and Dalton moved to the side a bit—all three having their drinks in their hands before they found themselves in a circle of silence. Each taking sips of their drinks before Dalton seemed to make a move of conversation towards Harry, nodding at him.

“So, what do you do for a living, Harry?” He licked over his lips, a tight smile painted on his face before Harry could respond.

“I’m—uh, I’m an art curator. At a small art gallery in London.”

Cassidy chimed in, “Harry has great taste, actually. He’s put together some really great art expos and exhibits.”

“Hm,” Dalton hummed, “Where is the gallery? My parents host charity galas, and we are on the board at the National Gallery and the Portrait Gallery.” He chuckles a bit, “I assume you’re not curating there.”

Harry feels the way that his jaw tightens, almost an innate reaction to the way that the man puts him down. Harry pushes his shoulders back before lifting his head. Cassidy looks to Dalton, speaking on Harry’s behalf.

“N-No, it’s—” But she’s interrupted when Harry speaks, then.

“It’s neither of those, no. It’s a bit more modern, helping to lift unknown artists who are looking to make their way into the conversation, which I think it’s very important. Especially now, our worldview is so mirrored by adding such high value to art that never needed it to begin with—art shouldn’t have value like that, in my opinion.” He felt that his tongue had a bit of venom on it when he took a larger sip of the champagne, practically downing that one, as well.

Dalton nodded. “I see. Well, I assume that amateur art wouldn’t have a value like Michelangelo or Vermeer, would they? But I think it’s presumptuous to say that art doesn’t have value. Everything has a price.”

Cassidy took in a breath before she took a large sip of wine; her eyes went to Harry who almost seemed like he would explode at any moment.

“Most things don’t have a price. Nothing has a price, it’s all relative. We, as a society, added price so people of higher status could act like they were better than other people, when it was all a façade to just make them look a bit fancier with their pretty goldleaf vases and Vermeer’s. A Vermeer painting doesn’t hold value to me, anyways.”

Dalton nodded a few times, giving a mock toast to the man in front of him, before he looked down at Cassidy.

“Yeah, that’s quite obvious. Class isn’t a given, it’s inherited. You should see the types of people that try to get their hands on these gala tickets, as if it’s some sort of carnival they can just attend. Half of them don’t have two quid to rub together, and it’s just embarrassing at that point.”

Harry took a step forward before Cassidy realized that his expression meant one of anger. Her arm pushed him back a bit before Dalton recognized the move and his eyes held a gentle smirk of cockiness.

It sat in Cassidy’s throat as she felt the deflation of her confidence. The weekend she had been looking forward to being was diminished quick before her eyes, and all she could do was count on the glass of wine that hadn’t even really been filled halfway.

“What he means is, being exclusive is an honor, and you of all people should know that, I’m sure.” Her eyes drive up to him, and Harry looks at her with that same feeling of hurt that he had felt moments ago by the bar. Harry’s lips parted as he looked at her and felt the subtle sting of her accusation.

Whether or not she meant it as a jab, he wasn’t quite sure, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

“Excuse me, Cassidy,” Dalton chuckles with a hint of a mocking tone, “I can speak for myself, darling. No need to interrupt.”

In just that moment, Harry felt himself push against Cassidy’s arm that had been subtly holding him back with no force other than the small barrier of her shoulder. The small push sent Cassidy off balance, which in turn allowed the slosh of wine to knock around her glass.

“And who are you to talk to her like that?” Harry questioned; his eyes now centered on Dalton as his brow knit together. “Fuck off with that, will you?”

“Bloody hell,” Cassidy gasped out, her eyes dropping to the small amount of wine that covered the hardwood floor underneath them—small droplets of the red wine were coating the bottom of her dress; only enough for her to notice, really, but her eyes narrowed at the floor.

Harry and Dalton both turned to her then, Harry’s eyes dropping to the way that she held her dress up to get a bit of a better glimpse of the stain.

“Oh, fuck, Cass. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to do that. Hey, I’ll clean it up—” Harry moves towards her, his hand holding at her bicep to help keep her balance.

“Good work, mate.” Dalton eyed Harry, who felt the need to clench his fists again. He did so rather quickly, trying to get the feeling of anger to subside for the moment so that he could focus on Cassidy in the moment.

“It’s fine—really, I just want to make sure it doesn’t stain. I—let me go back to my room, I think I have a stain stick.” She lifts her head to look at before she starts to move out of the small space.

“Let me help,” Harry offers, starting to follow behind her. It feels like an opportunity to take—the two of them alone for just a moment so that he can gauge how she’s really feeling about Dalton and this whole situation. The first few minutes of him have Harry already written off, and he knows the type of person she needs to be with should never be one to talk over her.

“No—Harry, it’s okay, I’ve got it.” She says quickly before she feels Dalton’s hand on her, as if to help guide her.

“I can help, darling.” He tells her, “Don’t worry about it. We can buy you a new one, if it’s too bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes and practically gags at the way he speaks to her. As if Cassidy couldn’t buy her own, for herself. He watches as he feels that Cassidy may be a bit overwhelmed by the two of them staring at her, knowing that they’re both fighting for her attention and affection.

The look on her face suggests as such before she look at Harry and blinks a few times, noticing that he had started to back off a bit. Not that he really wanted to, but knowing her, she didn’t want all the attention on her at once.

Harry downed the rest of the champagne, leaving the flute on a small table before Cassidy knit her brows and shook her head. “Actually, Harry— can you help? Your mum’s stain trick always seems to work. I can’t remember, though.”

His eyes float to Dalton who seems a bit taken aback by her push to have Harry go up to her room with her instead.

Harry nods a few times, watching as Dalton goes to speak, but Cassidy reassures him. “I’ll be right back, okay? We won’t be long.” She hands the man her wine glass, only a quarter full now, as most of it had landed on the sandy wood floors.

It’s then that the two of them take off towards the elevator. Cassidy has a bit of a stomp in her step, almost like she’s making sure that her and Harry aren’t in direct line so he can’t speak to her. The fits of anger that bubble in her chest is unexplained as she goes to press the elevator button to go upwards. Her arms crossed over her chest as she stares at the way that the light changes to go upwards.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.” Cassidy speaks out, a bit quietly as if to just think her thoughts—not say them outwardly.

“C’mon, Cass, he's got the ego of a narcissist and the smile of a Kennedy, you really think a guy like this could be the love of your life? Honestly.” Harry hounded her as they entered the elevator. He reached for the button, but Cassidy was already there, pressing three.

“That's not fair, Harry, you don't know him.” She settled against the wall as she stared at the ceiling, feeling the movement before she held onto the railing behind her. “He’s extremely smart, he’s confident—he knows what he wants. Which I think you and him may not agree on.”

Harry stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at her, knowing she wouldn’t look at him—but knowing that he had to say the words to her.

“But I know you.”

Cassidy shakes her head as if she’d heard that from him before. Something about the mixture of the two men felt familiar with many of the guys she had brought home, or brought to meet Harry, really. She couldn’t figure out if he just couldn’t understand that she was dating this guy—not just sleeping with him. They were forming a connection, but maybe Harry didn’t understand that.

Harry didn’t understand the concept of falling in love was possible, probably because she had never seen that happening. She had never seen Harry madly in love with someone; never seen his heart broken before. She didn’t know if that was a red flag or if that was a person choice that he didn’t allow for himself.

Either way, she wasn’t going to let him ruin her chances at finding it—no matter what his personal opinions were.

“So, why are you putting me through this? C’mon, no one is ever good enough for you. I never said I was going to marry the guy!”

The shuffle of them towards the door to the hotel room increases as Cassidy throws the key against the electronic pad to open the door. Harry follows in quickly behind as she throws her shoes off. Harry makes sure to avoid tripping and falling over them but knows diligently that she takes her shoes off every time she walks through her door—without fail.

He knew that.

“But why waste your time if you won't spend your life with him?” Harry questions, turning on the light in the foyer of the small room that Cassidy and Dalton were sharing. Harry’s eyes tried not to wander as he saw the unfamiliarity of the dark navy suitcase on the floor next to the TV.

“I didn’t say that I wouldn’t,” Cass answers a bit with a huff as she rustles through her own suitcase to try to find the detergent stick, she had forgotten to throw in her bag, “All I said was I wasn't sure if I would, maybe I will! Also, I can throw that question right back at you, Mr. One-and-Done.”

Harry stands with his hands in his pockets as he knits his brows together at her answer.

“I just don’t think he’s the one, Cass. That’s all I said. You don’t have to insult me, too.”

“No, Harry, that’s not all you said,” She retorts, “You rolled your eyes, you were a bit disrespectful, you—you started like,” She scrunches her nose when she comes back with the detergent stick in his hand as she sits on the edge of the bed. “You were like puffing your chest at him or something—like you were trying to prove a point. Just because he doesn’t share the same opinion as you, doesn’t mean he’s wrong, you know?”

Harry pursed his lips as she had walked by him, feeling that her entrance into the room gave him permission to follow. He didn’t want to pry into her life if he wasn’t invited to.

“I was not puffing my chest at him, that’s ridiculous.”

He took a seat next to her on the bed as she pulled the long dress up just to her knee to try and rub the stain stick over the red wine stain before she dropped the fabric in her lap.

“Yes, you were,” She tells him, “You do that whenever a guy gets too close, like you’re trying to scare them off or something, and it’s bullshit because you don’t even give them a chance.”

“Why would I give them a chance when I can obviously tell that they’re not good for you?”

Cassidy dropped the dress fabric in her lap as she sighed a bit louder, very obviously done with the back and forth where no one would win. Her head turned towards Harry, sitting next to her now. The way that her throat tightened when their eyes met almost immediately threatened her composure.

“You never give them a chance, Harry,” She tells him with honesty in her tone; wanting him to listen to her like he had never listened before. She knew that he was hard-headed, stubborn to say the least. But she knew that when he really knew she was serious, he would back down. “I just want to make this work, okay? He’s a good guy—I promise, he is. And he would make my life comfortable. He’s looking for a wife, a family. He’s looking to settle down. We’re thirty, Harry—I want to have these commitments, even if you don’t.”

“I don’t doubt he’s a good guy, Cass—really, I—” He stops himself as he thinks of all the people he’s made promise’s too over the years, over various occasions, and conversations that he would think back to whenever he caught a glimpse of the green eyes that laid on his now.

Her mum, Barbara. Her younger brother, Antonio. Her best girlfriend from uni, Annabelle.

But her dad, Tony, was the most important for him to honor—considering he knew that he left the planet wanting Cassidy to be in the best hands; he had gotten confirmation from Harry in their last conversation that he would never let someone hurt her. And was loved, there was a guarantee that she would be loved and cherished until the end of time.

There were people in her life that had always looked at Harry as a guide, whether they meant anything by it, but they knew that Harry knew Cassidy better than anyone in the entire world. He had known every detail of her life for the twenty-some years that they had been the best of friends.

But it had always just been there– the best of friends. Saying anything different could change the whole dynamic of what that was.

“What is it? Why do you always do this to me?”

“Why do I always do this to you?” Harry questioned, setting Cassidy back a bit. She stared at him before she felt the way that their connection seemed to have a sense of distance between them. “Cassy, I thought we were going to have a weekend just the two of us. Just like we had been talking about—you know? We haven’t seen each other in so long, we haven’t spent any time together recently. You’re right—we’re thirty now. Life is going to change, but I wanted to have at least one more time where it would just be the two of us to spend laughing and making fun of people like Walton.”

Cassidy fought so hard to not smile at the name Harry gave her date, “Fuck off, you know it’s Dalton.”

“Cass, it doesn’t matter what his name is.” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes, “What matters is that you always do this to me. You always insert this jackass as if to push him in my face and practically tease me with it. And what’s with all the jokes about me being exclusive?”

Cassidy feels her shoulders deflate, her eyes batting a few times before she shakes her head. “I just want you to find the right person, too, and maybe that would make you back from me and my choices just a bit. You think that I would treat a girl you dated like that? You think I would sit there and puff out my chest and try to make my boobs look bigger to make you look at me instead of her?”

Harry shrugs. “If you were jealous enough, I’d hope you would.” He goes to say something else but quickly shakes his head as if to not speak too much.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassidy tells him, her eyes giving a small up and down motion as she realizes how much space was between them now.

Harry stands up, his hands moving through his hair in a frustrated motion before he goes to stand in front of her at the end of the bed. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you see it? Just because I’m the one with the artistic eye doesn’t mean that I’m the only one who can see art, Cass. You know when we go to the galleries in new cities we travel to, and I really make you look at them? You glance at them and are like, ‘that’s a nice one’ or ‘that’s pretty’. No, I really want you to look at it—and then sometimes it makes you emotional because you can really see the way that the artist has manipulated his wrists to make the kinds of strokes that the brushwork is, or the way that the divot in the sculpture is supposed to look like it’s a flaw, but it’s intentional? And that what you didn’t see before, because you were just glancing, is really there all the time?”

Cassidy looked at Harry who was standing in front of her, his eyebrows knit and his face practically begging for her to see him. He’s begging her to recognize this game that he had been playing wasn’t a game at all, it was just a matter of time. It was a matter of wanting her to see what they could be so that he didn’t have to spell it out.

He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to see it for herself. First and foremost, he wanted her to want it as much as he had.

“All I’m seeing is that you’re painting me out to be the bad guy here. All you do cycle through girls like a manic—you’re sleeping with one, you’re stringing one along. You think that’s supposed to entice me?” She asks quaintly, a bit quietly as she shakes her head, looking at Harry who seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown.

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head as he takes in a deep breath to try and get to a level of calmness that fits his demeaner.  

“No, Cass! I just wanted you to see how in love with you I am!” The words that leave his mouth are practically begging, but they leave a sour silence in the room as Cassidy is taken by the tone Harry’s voice; his hands resting on his hips as he finishes the pacing he had been doing.

“Cassidy,” Harry swallowed down the lump that had been sitting in his throat, his voice practically faltering as he shook his head, trying so badly to get through to the words he had been looking for. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life. They were never there to stay, okay? That’s why I didn’t look for exclusivity— it was never theirs. I was saving every ounce of my love and my time and my affection for you, and you never reached out to take any of it.”

Her silence hits her for a moment as she sits with her wine-stained dress in her lap on the white, linen sheets before she watches the man in front of her professing all the love and needs to her. She doesn’t feel like she can speak, but her eyes drift down to her lap as she feels all the sudden unable to find the words at all.

“Look—I’m sorry, I—I just can’t see you being with someone like this. And it physically hurts me to see you heartbroken when I know,” Harry pulls his lips into his mouth as he puts his hands on his hips, “I know that guy is going to fucking annihilate you. You’re going to fall in love with him, and he’s going to take it all and run with it. And there I’ll be, standing there, waiting for you to realize what’s been waiting for you this entire time. It’s just bound to happen.”

Cassidy sits with her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip as she feels the threatening of tears to spill from her eyes. She doesn’t understand the overwhelming feeling of the man’s words as she shakes her head, a sad chuckle leaving her throat as she looks up at him.

“He ordered me a pinot noir tonight,” She nods, “Told me that it was the best wine he’d ever had before.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he doesn’t know that you exclusively drink Cab Sav from a box, no matter what, unless you’re celebrating something big, then it’s a discounted bottle of Dom Perignon from that Lombardi’s store down from your flat,” Harry tells her with a scoff, almost like it had been a test to prove that he knew her better than anyone in the world did.

And Cassidy knew that he did, but the validation that he showed only made her tear fall with the knowledge that he didn’t just listen—he remembered, he supplied this vision of her and this want for her that didn’t come with rules or expectations.

Harry just saw her.

And in a world where you want to be seen, Cassidy just fought to be glanced at. She fought for the spot in someone’s eye, but when she thought that Harry only had eyes for art, she couldn’t have imagined what he had seen in her this entire time.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Harry shook his head, looking at the ground as he started to feeling heaps of embarrassment but knowing that the awkward silence in the room was there to stay for a few more minutes at least. “I’d never order you a fucking pinot noir.”

Cassidy nods a few more times before she looks at the stains on the dress, knowing that it’s stained for good. That the stain stick won’t work anymore but knowing that it’s sometimes okay to have something marked, in the case that you wanted it to stick around forever.

Her heart felt like it had been borrowed and bruised but watching as Harry stared down at her only made it flutter as if trying to come back from the dead.

There were three things that Cassidy had been looking forward to this week—when she had originally booked the trip, that is.

One of them was to have a large glass of Cab Sav and sit on the balcony with Harry and laugh at the way that the people were pummeled by the waves; they always got too brave and then would be smashed down by the force of the water.

The second was to be able to dance. The dancing at the weddings always made her feel like she had been letting go of every ounce of worry and detrimental work email that she had received since the last time she was dancing at a wedding. It usually felt like a cleanse.

The third was to watch people fall in love. To watch people and see that their forever was right in front of their eyes and to confirm every moment of it with vows and unspeakable glances that felt like a bound contractual agreement.

As Cassidy stood in front of Harry now, her dress a mess of stain and wet, detergent marks, her eyes searched his for a moment before she looked up at him, with a different set of eyes, this time.

They were colored in a way that felt extraordinarily bright, like she had woken up from the darkest slumber. The mask of uncertainty was laying on the floor as she felt his hands lift her jaw to look at him, his feet taking a step forward.

“I think they say this at weddings,” He squinted at her, the line of a smirk coating his face as he kept his words quiet. Her hand moved up to hold his wrist as she bit on her lip softly, feeling the way that their lips tried to find one another—slow, encapsulated by an intense amount of tension, “’Speak now, or forever hold your peace’?”

The silence between them spoke for itself.

Harry pulled her forward, not rushed, but certainly not waiting a second longer. His lips attached to hers in a way that felt every single day of the last twenty years; the kiss that could have lasted the rest of his life without a doubt in his mind.

It was what was bound to happen all along; there just had to be a few frogs before the real prince revealed himself.

Well, that’s what Harry told himself, anyways. Cassidy would just roll her eyes, but knew that at the end of the day, it had always been him.

Exclusively him.

[zara-renata]

Roleplay, Undercurrents, and Rising Curtain: Sylus's POV

It really bothers me in the game that the clearly traumatic experiences MC undergoes in the canon storyline don't seem to have any consequences for MC's character development. Yes, yes, this is a self-insert gacha mobile game, blah blah. MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's issues.

Third person POV (Sylus), second person POV (gender-neutral reader/MC) CWs: violence, murder, foul language, cursing, mentions of trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, Sylus is giddy being able to be near MC again even though MC is still mean to him

SFW if you think murder and Sylus's singing is SFW

ao3 link here

He is watching you from the shadowed doorway as you examine yourself in the mirror. He can almost see your mind tick, tick, ticking away, evaluating the quality of your costume for tonight, the slight frown on your face betraying your uncertainty that you, and he, will be able to pull tonight off and emerge on the other side in one piece.

He is used to this type of soirée, a viper’s den wrapped in velvet and silk, the veneer of civility paper-thin, where one wrong look or clumsy response can cost you your reputation, or much, much more. And as a betting man, he’d gamble that you, on the other hand, are not used to this type of gathering at all. You who are straightforward, with your fangs bared and guns blazing, the honesty palpable in your bright eyes and laughter, in your scowl and impatience and eagerness.

He steps into the light, revealing his presence to you through the mirror, and watches as you turn to him, draped in scarlet, and a pulse of satisfaction has his lips lifting. You look delicious, with your head tilted haughtily, the red jewels flashing from your neck and wrists. Your outfits match, and you’re dripping in stones and fabric the color of his eyes. He hasn’t felt this sense of satiation in a long, long time. He pins the brooch above your heart and looks into your eyes, and it doesn’t matter that even though you know the truth now, you are still looking at him with the cold unfamiliarity of someone constantly assessing the possible threat in every gesture he makes. It doesn’t matter that even though he’s helping you, you’re still treating him like the enemy, when it is everyone outside these walls who threaten you, and he is currently the only one defending the gates and preparing to shatter the siege.

None of that matters. Because you’re right here, finally. You’re allowing him to touch you, as he smooths the fabric around where he has just pinned the brooch, your heartbeat strong and steady under his palm—you’re reaching out to him, sliding your hand in his; he can’t feel your skin through your gloves but he can feel your heat at his side, in his palm. He will ensure that, with time, the look in your eyes changes when you feel him appear behind you, when your palms touch.

You say something biting to him, full of doubt, the wariness and spite palpable, and he revels in how safe you must feel with him already to extend your claws around him like this, to be reckless and treat him like an insufferable puppy that you’re forced to indulge instead of the half-feral wolf that he is to so many others. The progress from hate and fear from just a few days ago, to this snarky impatience is intoxicating, better than any gin fizz or successful wager—it’s faster than he had calculated as the blood poured from his heart and you spitefully jammed your palms into his chest in an attempt to stem the flow.

In short, Sylus is in a great mood tonight and he’s looking forward to exterminating the rest of the vermin that have been gnawing away at the foundations of his house in his long absence. And he’s going to make damn well sure that he gets to dance with you before the fireworks truly begin.

Things are going according to plan—he snickers, recalling that this plan is the one you accused him of not having. He will show you, in time, that he always has plans, with backup plans, and backups to the backup plans. He can forgive you for not knowing that about him yet. But you’re the only person he’s in a forgiving mood toward tonight. He has deposited you safely at the bidding room of the auction, the subtle glow of the protocores illuminating the lovely line of your haughtily upturned nose as you sauntered away from him clutching his black card, the other guests whispering in a painfully unsubtle manner behind their hands, speculating about who you are and the nature of your relationship to him. Mine, he had declared, as he handed over his proverbial wallet and told you to have fun.

As he strides down the dimly lit hall of the hotel in which the auction is being held, the deep carpet shushing his purposeful steps, he spots one of Sherman’s minions standing at attention at a closed door and can’t prevent the excitement rushing through him. He is so close to the craven idiot who dared act in his name, who sowed discord in his ranks, who hurt you so terribly and deprived you of your ‘family’, who, regardless of Sylus’s opinion of them, you clearly loved deeply. He is eager to kill two birds with one stone (apologies to Mephisto): wipe Sherman’s existential stain off this plane of existence, clean his house, avenge your loss, and be back to dance with you in a matter of minutes. The lackey finally notices him, begins lifting his wrist to speak into his earpiece, but unfortunately for him, he is little too late, as Sylus’ evol jerks him into the air by his neck—he is about to tighten it to snap the fuck’s spine in two when he hears your gorgeous voice through his own earpiece.

He pauses, suddenly anxious that something has gone wrong for you that and you’re in danger and that he’s not there, when he hears you say, “Do you mind if I use your card to buy one of these protocores?”

He shakes his head a little. Did he just hear you correctly? He might have to re-evaluate his estimation of your intelligence. He will continue to adore you even if you’re a little slow; your other qualities more than make up for any deficiencies in the intelligence department. Because why the fuck else would he hand you the equivalent of unfettered access to his bank account and tell you to have fun? Of course you can buy whatever the hell you want with it. But he knows you’re clever; the way you meet and counter his sarcasm, taunts and challenges without hesitation makes that clear. And you wouldn’t have survived for this long, risen to one of the elite teams in the Association’s ranks, if you were an imbecile. But he is busy, your sudden question made him anxious for you, and he's frothing at the mouth to get back to you to claim his dance.

“Do not bother me with such trivial matters!” he hisses into his own earpiece, and watches as the eyes of the idiot, who he still has by the throat, bulge further in response to his assailant angry-whispering into the empty hallway.

He’s about to finish this when he hears your voice again, offering an offensively low sum for the highest grade protocore this pretentious establishment has to offer.

“5 million!” he counters in a whisper-shout. He is not going to let these clowns think that your man is broke. He waits to hear your response, finally noticing that the guard he still has suspended in the air has passed out. When he hears you double the amount he had ordered you to offer, and then proceed to demand the rest of the items up for bid, Sylus laughs so hard that he momentarily loses control of his evol and the unconscious goon falls with an unceremonious, muffled thump onto the richly carpeted floor. Sylus contemplates his crumpled form for a moment, wiping the tears from his eyes. Suddenly he doesn’t have it in him to kill a guy who is probably only here for a paycheck, even if he does have atrocious taste in employers.

“You can thank my charming guest for your life tonight, if you manage to get through it alive,” he murmurs to the lump on the floor, before punching the door open with his evol-wrapped fist and striding in to find Sherman turning with a look of horror on his face as he recognizes who, precisely, was just laughing like a madman on the other side of the now ruined door.

After, once Sylus has successfully avenged himself and more importantly, you, he hums a little tune as he picks up Sherman’s detonator and saunters back to the ballroom. Maybe, if things keep going as well as they’re going now, and you like him a little better, he’ll sing it to you as a treat. Because of you, he's having so much fun.

*

And now, finally, he is going to claim his own treat before the action really begins. The utter boredom he was forced to endure while interrogating Sherman and uncovering his trite motivations is replaced by an eagerness bordering on mania to get back to his interesting little Hunter. He watches in amusement as a man sidles up to you and shows interest in your brooch, after having thoroughly shown interest in the rest of you before mustering the courage to actually speak to you.

He watches with slightly less amusement as your curiosity is piqued and you ask with your customary eagerness to learn new things, “Hightower? What’s that?” The man’s eyes light up at this apparent interest of yours, seeing an in with you and assertively requesting that you join him for the banquet dance.

Aaaand that’s enough. Sylus steps into the light and slides his hand around your waist, pulling you decisively into his side and feeling that dangerously seductive calm wash over him, as it always does, when he’s allowed to touch you. He knows it makes him weak. He does not care. His other strengths more than compensate for the crack in his armor you represent. Unlike Achilles, he knows exactly how to protect his vulnerability. His hand flexes involuntarily, fingers pressing a little too hard into your hip, until he is able to will it relaxed again.

“A Hightower is a type of gun. Just one can level this entire building,” he answers your question, fingering the detonator in his other pocket. He doesn’t need a Hightower to finish what he started tonight, and the thought translates into an the intense smugness as you frown at him for interrupting your conversation with your luckless suitor. “The brooch is a gift from me, I’m afraid,” he says smoothly, more than ready to send this guy scurrying along his way and draw your entire focus back to him, where he likes it best.

“You weren’t trying to sell it now, were you, kitten?” he goads you, just to see how you’ll respond to this blatant mischaracterization of the situation.

You don’t disappoint him: with your tight jaw belying your coy tone of voice, you run your hands  up his chest, underneath the coat draped over his shoulders, and pretend to be a spoiled, thrill seeking brat testing a sugar daddy’s patience. Finally, the insignificant obstacle standing between him and the dance he has been looking forward to all evening gets the hint and slinks back into the crowded shadows.

And finally, finally, the music begins, bodies are moving around the two of you, and you’re in his arms as he gracefully leads you through the steps of the dance. He soaks in the feeling of his arm around your waist, your hand in his, your chests brushing against each other as you sway together across the dance floor. He notices that your attention is split between expressing doubt about whether he’s telling the truth regarding knowing the aether core’s location and constantly assessing potential threats—but Sylus does not want your eyes drifting elsewhere. He smoothly draws your eyes back to his, where they belong, and ensures that the only thing you can see is him by tightening his arm around your waist, drawing you in closer, and refusing to give you a direct answer to all of your questions. He sees your little scowl, the frustration in the line of your mouth, suppresses a wince when you deliberately stomp on his foot—but he doesn’t mind. Just as he doesn’t mind that you might not believe that he’s fulfilled his part of the deal, that he knows exactly where the aether core is, and that he has his own house’s situation finally under control with Sherman’s demise. In time, you’ll learn that you can trust him. And he has all the time in the world, now that you’re finally here and not trying to kill him.

He's in such a good mood he’s floating like a feather, until you mention the protocore bombs and something changes in the expression on your face. If he hadn’t been staring at your lovely face for weeks now, from afar through Mephisto and hacked security cameras, and while you were sleeping under his roof (if you have an objection to him exploiting your proximity by watching you as you sleep when you’re right there, under his roof, then sue him), and if he wasn’t currently in the process of soaking in every microexpression flitting across your upturned face from this close as you dance together, he might have missed it. But he doesn’t miss it. And he certainly doesn’t miss the involuntary shudder that runs through your body pressed to his. He realizes in a flash of intuition that the idea of the bombs bothers you—

He watches your throat as you swallow, and the very light sheen of sweat gathering at your temples, he watches your eyes begin to dart around again, your hand flexing with what is likely the need to grab your gun from underneath the fabric of your outfit, and he realizes that you’re starting to panic. Or have a panic attack. At the thought of bombs—

Like the bomb that destroyed your family and came so close to killing you too

He has watched you for weeks, seen the way you’ve worked almost non-stop, taking on assignment after assignment with hardly any rest in between except for when you were on the brink of collapse. When you weren’t working, you were training, kilometer after kilometer on the treadmill, heavier and heavier weight sets. And when you weren’t training, you were trying to orchestrate a way to infiltrate his territory, to hunt him and the aether core down. You weren’t sleeping, and you weren’t attending counseling. You haven’t processed what happened to you at all, and no one around you has forced you to confront what you have been avoiding this whole time. The dark circles under your precious eyes, the short fuse and oh so transparent mask of a smile plastered across your lovely, exhausted face—how they just let you continue as you have been infuriates him, and only the thought that he’s here now, in your life, whether you like it or not, is the only thing that stops him from adding new names to his extermination list. He will succeed where they have failed to care for you, even if you hate him for it.

However, he takes a moment to reproach himself, as just a few hours ago he was gloating to himself that soon you’d learn that his contingency plans have contingencies, that you could trust him to think of all the variables and know how to dismantle any obstacles. Yet he has been missing something so obvious while making his calculations of how tonight would go. Of course you’d have remaining trauma from what you have survived and what has been taken from you.

He recalculates—it’s too late to change the state of play now, but instead of the fireworks he has been looking forward to unleashing into chaos, this is now going to have to be a controlled demolition.

He lifts his hand and runs his fingertips along the curve of your jaw to return your focus to him. Once your too wide eyes are locked on his, he tightens his hold around your waist again.

“Look at me. Look only at me.” He waits, and something inside of him crows in triumph as, your hands tightening on him, you follow his directions and stare into his eyes, letting him continue speaking without struggle.

“We are going to detonate the bombs now that were originally intended later for me, kitten. It’s going to be loud, and most of this place will be rubble when we’re done.”

Before you can ask the how and why, he continues. “I have the detonator. I know you’re frightened. I’m sorry this is the method that I have tonight. But keep your eyes on me, and breathe. We’ll get through this together, do you understand?”

He can sense the shift in the energy of the room, the metaflux fluctuations and the increasing violent mood of the crowd, but he will make time for this and deal with any fallout from this slight delay. He will ensure that you get through this without spiraling into a panic attack and possibly getting hurt.

“Do you understand?” he asks again. And that same satisfaction, the sense of calm, that only you seem to be able to give him floods through him as you take a shuddering breath and nod, ever so slightly, eyes never leaving his.

He lets his fingers drift down your face, takes your hand in his and slips both of them into his pocket, pulling you even closer, your cheek coming to rest against his chest. He guides your hand around the detonator in his pocket, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance. “We’ll do this together. You’re in control,” he murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd now, having utter faith that you will have the courage to press the button despite the dread that must be filling you right now.

And you, with your cheek pressed against his warm chest, his steady heartbeat drowning out all the other sounds, including the ringing in your ears, your own thundering heartbeat, flashes of memory, a door closing, Caleb’s last words to you—you close your eyes and press, and the world explodes around the two of you. But you’re breathing, and Sylus is still holding you tight, and you’re alive, and you’ll deal with the terror threatening to drown you after you’ve gotten what you came for.

After you take one deep, slow breath, you reach for your gun, shove Sylus to the side and shoot the wanderer that was about to stab him in the back.

[oikasugayama]

You can't escape from chuuya 😜 the same as with dazai with the reader with a short skirt nsfw I wanted the most chuuye😠

fiiiiine, fine. Have Chuuya smut that's twice as long as the Dazai one ;)

MDNI, NSFW, fem!reader in a short skirt, 5k of filthy dirty nasty smutttt, name calling, brat taming, spanking, daddy (only once), fingering, cum eating, blow job, all sorts of shit ok. MDNI MDNI MDNI

You’re always professionally dressed at work. Members of the Port Mafia are paid handsomely, so you can all afford to dress to the nines, even for a simple day in the office or a dangerous tryst out in enemy territory. Like many of your coworkers, you prefer a polished, businessy look when conducting Port Mafia business. You have a closet full of perfectly tailored pantsuits, mostly in black though you do keep a few fun colors should you get the chance to wear them. 

On your days off, however, you’re more or less unrecognizable to your coworkers thanks to the difference in your business style and your personal style. You’re not just fond of bright and pastel colors, you’re obsessed with them. The girlier, prettier, and gaudier a piece of clothing is, the more you love it. You’re inspired by Harajuku, and pastel goth styles, as well as some frilly vintage vibes now and again. You even have a small collection of colorful wigs you like to wear out sometimes when an outfit calls for just the right one. 

One of your favorite outfits includes a black tube top, a cropped pastel pink cardigan that hangs off one shoulder, a black and pink plaid mini skirt over some fashionably ripped fishnet tights and a chunky pair of black platform boots. You like to accessorize of course, and typically go for a pastel pink dog collar choker with a heart pendant, chains hanging across your waist and down one side of your skirt, dangly earrings, and several rings. Depending on your mood, your makeup is either very sharp and black, or very soft and pink, and if you choose to wear a wig, its color is the opposite of the makeup you chose.

On the day you accidentally run into several of your coworkers in a bar, you’re in a pink wig with black eyeliner so sharp it could cut a man. 

You’re not surprised that they don’t recognize you. At work you have very plain, naturally colored hair, typically smoothed back into a bun, much like Higuchi and Gin do. In a plain black suit, it’s hard to show off your style. Besides, you wouldn’t want any of your fun clothes getting ruined in the line of duty. And it’s not like, on the rare occasion you hang out with your coworkers, that you’ve had time to go home and change. Typically if you go anywhere with them that isn’t for work, it’s just to lunch in the middle of the day, or to a bar at the end of a shift. They’ve never known you to look anything except professional.

This leads you to want to have a little fun with them all, to see how close you can get and what you can start saying before one of them catches on that it’s you.

You walk past the group a few times on the way to the bar or to the table you’re perched at. They don’t say anything about you at first, and they’re not talking about anything important from what you hear. On your third trip past, however, you do catch one of them mentioning you, and you use your ability-- which allows you to focus your hearing on anything you so choose within a certain radius-- to eavesdrop from across the loud room.

“--same chick has walked by like 5 times already,” Tachihara says.

“Are you sure?” Gin asks.

“Why does it matter? We’re in public,” Higuchi says. “People are going to walk by.”

“I know it’s definitely her because, I mean, look at her. Of course I noticed her.”

You pretend like you don’t notice when several curious heads turn your way.

“God, she’s hot,” Chuuya says, whistling under his breath. “Fucking Christ, those thighs.”

“Hey, I saw her first,” Tachihara says, while the others roll their eyes and tell the two to quiet down.

“I’d offer to share, but if I get a piece of that ass, it’s fucking mine.”

“Jesus Christ, Chuuya, you’ve had too much to drink already.”

“We’ve been here 20 minutes, I’ve barely had one glass!” he says defensively.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance if you’re so interested?” Akutagawa asks, disinterested but amused at the notion of Chuuya making a fool of himself.

“Nah,” he says, waving his hand at his group. “A hot piece of ass like that you’ve gotta chase a little. I’ve gotta buy her a drink, maybe, then ask her to dance later, then lay on the charm.”

“You’re a real ladies man, Chuuya,” Tachihara says sarcastically.

The conversation gradually turns to something else. You let it drift away since your focus isn’t exactly on them anymore, it’s suddenly on the pulsing desire burning in your crotch. “Holy shit,” you think. “Chuuya wants to fuck me so bad he’s making stupid ass plans for it.” Honestly, he could hit it any day of the week if he’d just ask, but he’s never seemed too interested in you at work. “This is what does it for him, I guess,” you think, downing the rest of your drink. You then decide to grab his attention again by stretching a little, arching your back and raising your arms over your head to make your cropped cardigan and your tube top expose a bit of your belly. It’s not a lot, but for someone already desperate to see more of you, it works.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya mutters under his breath, eyes on you. You make eye contact with him and wink, and when he smirks instead of looking away, you run your hand up your thigh, pulling your short skirt up even higher. His eyebrows raise, giving you a look like “oh yeah?” and you smile. 

“His move,” you think, using your other hand to twirl your empty glass around a little bit. Chuuya excuses himself from the group and goes to the bar quickly.

You’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

It’s then that the worst thing happens. Higuchi’s phone rings, then Gin’s, and Tachihara’s, and Akutagawa’s, and Chuuya’s, and yours. It’s an emergency alert from the PM. You’re all being called in, and you need to be there fast. You’re only a couple of blocks from the office. All of your coworkers will be there in less than 10 minutes. You don’t have time to go home and change. You have to go right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss under your breath, getting up and rushing for the door before the others do. Maybe if you get out ahead of them they won’t notice you--

“God dammit,” Chuuya groans. “I was just about to get her a fuckin’ drink.”

“She’s running out, too,” Higuchi points out.

“It’s weird that she’s going in the same direction as us, right?” Tachihara asks, unsure.

“There are a lot of other things out this way, dumbass,” Chuuya says.

Then you take a left, and the group takes a left. They get closer, and you try to walk faster.

Then you take a right, and they take a right. Then you approach the PM headquarter building.

“What the fuck?” Chuuya asks, rushing forward to try to stop you at the door, but you rush inside as soon as the door opens a crack.

“Hey!” Tachihara calls, rushing in after you. You hit the button to call an elevator, but realize the only available one is several floors away. You’re cornered. The jig is up.

Fuck.

“Heeeey,” you say, slowly turning around to greet the group as they gather. “Any of you know what the emergency is? I’m wondering if it’s about the Detective Agency’s involvement in our failed gun import. I was just telling Akutagawa-san yesterday that I had a feeling they’d end up losing the guns to some other organization stealing them before the Detectives could decide whether to turn us in over it.”

“Oh my god,” Higuchi gasps.

“It’s [Y/N],” Gin says.

“What?!” Chuuya and Tachihara both say, and Akutagawa is the only one to stay focused.

“It likely is exactly that,” he says. “Your foresight is spot on as usual.”

“What’s with this outfit?!” Higuchi asks, feeling your cardigan and grabbing the hem of your skirt. “It’s so short! Why are you dressed like this? You were at the same bar as us!”

“This is how I dress on my days off,” you answer honestly, shrugging. The elevator doors finally open and you all start to file in. “And yes, I’m well aware we were at the same bar,” you say, glancing at Chuuya as he shuffles past you. His cheeks blaze and his eyes lock onto the ground, refusing to meet your gaze.

So that’s how it is.

The emergency meeting goes on for two tense hours. It’s exactly what you and Akutagawa thought it would be about, and your group, as well as other Mafia and specifically Black Lizard leaders and members discuss action plans, potential repercussions, and viable reconnaissance missions. When Mori finally announces that you all deserve a break and that you’re meet again in an hour, you’re the first to get up and leave the room, feeling embarrassed to be in a work situation in your fun outfit.

Several footsteps follow you into the hallway, but they all patter off in different directions after a turn here, a turn there.

Only one set of steps follows you into the stairwell. It’s quiet, with very light steps, but you know it’s there thanks to your impeccable hearing.

The same footsteps follow you down two floors, three, four, five…

You feel like you’re being chased, but you think you know exactly who it is, and so the chase is more exciting than it is scary.

You finally get to the floor that your office is on and leave the stairwell. You walk quickly to your office, go in but leave the door cracked, and to test your theory that you’re being followed, you “accidentally” drop your phone after walking a few feet inside. You slowly bend over, letting your short skirt rise up over the curve of your ass, completely exposing your fishnet-covered ass and black thong to anyone who may be standing at the door. You grab your phone slowly, give a cheeky shake of your butt, then stand back up.

Your office door clicks closed behind you, and the lock engages loudly.

“That show for me?” Chuuya asks. You turn to find him leaning against your door. A quick glance down shows you that he’s already at least half-hard in his pants.

“Who else?” you ask softly, leaning against the edge of the desk. It’s cold on your mostly bare ass, but you act cool, crossing one ankle over the other. Your legs look long and sexy stretched out in front of you, and you can tell that Chuuya thinks so too because he can’t stop looking at them.

“It’s a shame we were called away,” you say to break the tension. “I was looking forward to that drink.”

“Were you?” he asks, slowly walking toward you. His hands are deep in his pockets like usual, always acting calm and cool. The look in his eye is different than normal, though. It’s hungry. “Nice to know.”

“You know, you’re not as forward as I thought you’d be,” you admit, leaning back on your hands. You’re on full display for him now. “I half expected you to be all over me as soon as you closed that door.”

“Tell me to leave,” he says, finally standing toe to toe with you. “Tell me to get the fuck out otherwise I will be all over you.”

“Why would I tell you to get the fuck out when I could tell you to come the fuck on already?”

Chuuya makes a noise between a moan and a growl and leaps forward, standing so both of his legs are over yours. He grabs your face with both of his hands and pulls you in for a hot, hard kiss. It’s all tongue and nipping at each other’s lips and hot panting into each other’s mouths.

Your hands shamelessly roam his body once you’ve sat up to meet him. You push his jackets back off of his shoulders so it falls onto the ground. You feel his muscular back and shoulders and arms. You slide your hands lower, feeling his sides and hips. You start messing with his belt by the time he even realizes he can touch you back.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he pants, yanking at your cardigan so you take it off. “Honestly good that you don’t fucking dress like this at work,” he says, yanking your tube top down too so your breasts are exposed. “I’d be fucking you every time I fucking see you.” He gropes your tits, squeezing them and massaging them in his hands. He tweaks your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers, making them hard and sensitive. 

“Chuuya,” you whine, “why don’t you suck on them if you like them so much?” He looks up at you and smirks, temporarily grabbing you by the hips to push you further back on your desk so you can lay down comfortably. Once you’re flat he climbs on top, knees on either side of your hips, and leans down to your chest. He licks wet stripes across your tit, teasing your nipple with his tongue. He kisses open-mouthed around your boob, refusing to give you what you really want until you finally whine and shift under him, then he sucks your nipple into his mouth and keeps steady pressure on it for several seconds until finally releasing it with a wet smacking sound. He gives the other breast a similar treatment, teasing and sucking and licking. You reach a hand up into his hair, gently moaning his name while you card your fingers through.

He starts grinding his hard-on against your lower belly, just above your crotch given the way that he’s kneeled over you. You whimper and push your hips up, trying to meet him as he grinds. He’s thoroughly attached to your breasts, playing with one nipple while sucking on the other, trading, kissing, sucking hickies onto them. He works a stream of moans and pants and whines from you, getting you to moan his name several times, which makes him grind down onto you harder.

Finally, his hand leaves your chest and trails down your body, his slightly calloused fingers feeling rough on your soft skin. Chuuya flips your short skirt up, wasting no time in cupping your still-clothed cunt and stroking his fingers over it.

“God damn, you’re wet already,” he says, shifting so his face is against your neck.

“You’re fucking hot,” you admit, tugging on his hair. He bites not-so-gently, leaving an instant red and purple hickey on a very obvious spot. His fingers slowly spread, coming together again almost squeezing your pussy lips together. He does it again after you moan in his ear, adding more pressure to tease you with, and again, but this time his fingers dip under your panties and bunch the fabric up together. He pulls it up, several inches higher than your body, making the fabric squeeze in between your lips, leaving it pressing against your clit.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, chuckling when you grind up against his hand and your own panties, seeking stimulation. “That why you’re letting me touch your cunt? ‘Cause you think I’m hot?”

“Yeah,” you whine, still grinding upward. It’s working, your movements are giving you little shocks of pleasure as the damp fabric drags across your clit and also teases your pussy somewhat. “I’d let you fuck me too.” Your voice is breathy and unsteady, and Chuuya can tell just from the sound of it that you’re getting really worked up.

“I don’t know, doll,” he says, hovering over you by one hand pressed against the desk beside your head. “I kind of like the view watching you fuck yourself on my hand.”

“It’s not really ‘on your hand’ without your fingers in me.” You could swear that his eyes light up.

“What was that?” He teases you again, drifting his fingers over the extremely sensitive skin of your pussy. “Did you say something--” he dips a finger past your lips just enough to hook around your panties and pull them back, pushing them to the side-- “about my fingers?”

“Fucking tease,” you huff, reaching down to grab his hand, but he becomes an immovable force when you try to push his hand further down. “Oh and that stupid fucking ability of yours.” He laughs at that and tsks at you.

“You’ve got a dirty fuckin’ mouth,” he says. “Maybe you need something good in there to clean it out.” He gets off the desk and unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and kicks them to the floor. You sit up to see him in just his black underwear and white t-shirt, palming himself through the fabric. “C’mere and suck this dick.”

You obey, getting onto the ground with shaky thighs. He’d gotten you more worked up than you realized, and knowing yourself, sucking his dick is not going to calm you down, it’s going to get you closer to the edge.

You pull his boxers down and he steps out of them. His cock is thick and longer than your fist when you close it around his shaft. You give him a few pumps, spreading some pre-cum down his length, before leaning forward with an open mouth to take him in greedily. You start bobbing your head immediately, trying to take as much of him as possible. He stretches your mouth more than anyone else ever has, and you have a feeling your jaw is gonna get sore if you do this for too long.

Chuuya grabs fistfulls of your hair and uses it to guide you back and forth, setting a quicker pace than you already were. He works up to fucking your mouth, using your head like a sex toy. His tip bounces off the back of your throat multiple times, and you have to focus really hard on not gagging. You get messy, letting spit and drool fall out of the corners of your mouth. Tears also spring up in your eyes from him fucking your throat, but you don’t even try to stop them from falling. Your eyeliner is waterproof, but your mascara isn’t, so some black streaks may fall down your cheeks, but you don’t care. You honestly kind of want to see the fucked out look on your face when this is all over.

“You’re too good at this,” Chuuya moans. “Fucking cockslut, aren’t you? Gonna be my slut now, huh? Gonna let me fuck your throat some more, right? Whenever I want?”

You hum around him but can’t exactly nod given his cock in your mouth. He gets it though, and he also moans when you hum as the vibrations go straight into his sensitive tip when it touches the back of your mouth.

“Gonna cum in your mouth,” he grunts, “gonna make you eat it all.”

You try to shake your head, pushing back on his thighs, whining.

“No?” he asks, slowing down and stopping. “Why not, doll?” He lets you back up, finally letting go of your hair.

“That’s a waste,” you croak out, then clear your throat and try to make the fucked-out sound go away. “If you don’t bend me over my desk and fuck me until I scream I’m never fucking touching you again.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” he says excitedly, reaching down for your arms. He picks you up effortlessly thanks to his ability, and for some reason that really does it for you. You moan just from that touch, feeling your pussy throb. Then he turns you around, pushes you down onto your desk, and smacks your ass hard. You yelp and then moan as he rubs the sting out.

“Where do you want me to cum? On your back?”

“In my cunt, dumbass.”

“Geez, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” he hisses, squeezing one hand around the base of his cock while the other swings and spanks you again. “And it’s so fucking hot.” He spanks you again. He refuses to tell you he felt his orgasm building from you telling him to cum inside, though his brain is being overrun by that thought now.

He flips your skirt up and rubs his hands on your ass, squeezing your cheeks and gently smacking them to make them jiggle.

“Are you having fun?” you ask him, earning another hard spank, which you moan loudly in response to, a fun smirk on your face. “I kinda like that,” you coo, wiggling your hips back toward him. “Spank me again, Chuuya-san. I’ve been very, very bad.” 

He spanks you hard and you yelp, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you moan softly, torn between pleasure and pain. “You’re an asshole.” He spanks you again on the other cheek. “Will you fuck me already, asshole?”

“I would if you’d stop being a bitch.”

“Maybe you’ve gotta fuck the bitch out of me,” you say, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Amen,” he says flippantly, pulling your panties to the side again to make sure they’re still out of his way. He rubs his fingers over your wet pussy, dipping between the folds but never into your vagina. He spreads your wetness all over your folds, as if it wasn’t there already, but then he huffs and you hear a slight ripping.

“What was that?” you ask, turning to him.

“Stupid fucking lines are in my way.”

“Lines? My fishnets? You did not just rip my tights, you fucking douche.”

“So what if I did?” he asks, stroking himself with your wet.

“Are you serious? You fucking a-- ohhh, fuck!” You try to insult him again but get cut off by his thick cock skewering you in one swift movement. You’re so wet and ready that he slides straight in, your walls stretching to fit around his girth.

“Fuuuuuck,” he moans, throwing his head back as he bottoms out. “Your bitch pussy is the best shit I’ve ever felt, I swear to god,” he says, grabbing both sides of your hips as he withdraws and then snaps his hips forward again. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Oh, shit, Chuuyaaa,” you whine, voice going high and strained. “You’re so big, what the fuck? What the-- fuuuck,” you moan as he sets a pace, hips snapping forward every second, filling the room with wet fucking sounds and the smack of his heavy balls against your thighs.

“I’ve gotta fuckin’ see you,” he says after only a minute, backing out of you. You grunt and groan, glaring at him over your shoulder until he once again grabs you with that ability of his and moves you around like you weigh nothing. He has you on your side, one leg hanging off the desk, the other hooked over his shoulder, and then he teases your pussy with the head of his cock, dragging it back and forth, up and down your lips, pushing in only near your clit, not near your hole.

“Chuuya, please,” you sigh, reaching down toward where your bodies meet, but he grabs your hand and pins it to the desk. “Please fuck me, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” he asks cheekily, moving his hips as if thrusting, only letting his cock rub between your pussy lips.

“Don’t tease me,” you pant, trying to squirm your hips. “Put your cock back in me, now.”

“Now?” he asks, playing dumb.

“Now,” you insist. He rubs his tip against your clit.

“What about now?”

“Stop teasing me!”

“You know, that’s no way to ask for a favor,” he says. “Maybe I’ll just walk away. Then what would you do? Fuck yourself on your fingers?”

“I’ll find Akutagwa,” you huff, trying to loosen your hand from his grasp. He barks out a laugh, whole body shaking for a moment.

“Akutagawa?! He wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy like this, babe,” he smirks, finally moving his tip back toward your hole. “You really don’t think he could fuck you like I can, right?”

“What if I do?” You try to keep sounding tough, but the brat is being teased out of you, and you really, really want to be fucked dumb on his cock right now. “Maybe-- ahhh--” Chuuya enters you slowly, smirking down at you and the way your eyes roll back before fluttering closed. 

“Maybe what?” Chuuya asks, bottoming out.

“Maybe-- Akutagawa--” you stutter as Chuuya pulls back and snaps his hips forward again, spearing your g-spot as if he was locked on target.

“Akutagawa?” he asks, trying to lead you on as he slowly builds his pace. You try to babble something out, but as he starts properly fucking you, leaning over you and holding your leg up so he can press you into the desk, you just can’t think of anything except for Chuuya.

“Chuuya-- Chuuya-- Oh, fuck, right there-- Ohh, Chuuya!”

The sound alone is enough to make someone blush, your wet pussy gushing around him every time he goes balls deep, his body pressing against yours, getting wet and precum and sweat all over each other's crotches. You both get lost in it, moaning and swearing and giving stupid empath threats to each other.

“You better make me cum,” you say to him, and he responds “You better stop being such a bitch when I make this pussy squirt.”

He starts palming your tits again when he gets close, panting and fucking you as quickly as he can.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. You sure I can bust inside?” he manages to ask through his panting.

“Yes,” you moan, “oh fuck yeah. Cum in this pussy, daddy.”

“Daddy?!” he asks, and that’s what does it. You caught him so off guard that his whole body jerks and he hunches over you, cumming a big, hot load into your cunt. His face is burning red, and some sweat drips down his forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth dropped open, a tiny bit of drool about to sneak out the corner of his mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he says, but it’s so high pitched and tense that it makes you laugh. Your pussy involuntarily contracts when you laugh, and your whole body slightly jiggles under him, and it makes him yelp and moan again, long and drawn out. “God damn,” he whines, pulling back as if he’s going to back out now.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, trying to stop him by the leg that’s thrown over his shoulder. “You didn’t make me cum yet. You’re not done here, Chuuya.”

“I’m not but my dick is,” he says, still kind of whiny. “I think you just sucked me dry, I really fucking think you did.” You can’t help but to laugh a little more as he lowers your leg and rolls you onto your back. “It’s only polite--” he says, dropping to his knees “--that I return the favor.” In a flash his tongue is on your pussy, lapping up his cum as it spills out of you. He swallows it without comment, and keeps lapping at your pussy, dipping his tongue into your hole while it’s still nice and open from his cock. You run your hand through his hair again, making sure he can’t pull back too far. You want his whole face in your cunt and you aren’t letting up on this. 

His fingers join his mouth, taking over for his tongue in prodding at your hole. They slip inside, twisting together at the same time as they pull in and out. He teases your g-spot every time this way, and the side of his fingers on your sensitive walls feels so so good. You start moaning his name when his tongue swirls around your clit, working relentless circles on it. He intersperses little sucks on it, and once he even dips his nose down and uses it to rub your clit since it’s a bit firmer than his tongue. He eats you out like an absolute fucking champ, shaking his head and blowing out to give you slight vibrating sensations, suckling to give you quick peaks of stimulation, and flicking his tongue back and forth and rolling it in circles to build your orgasm up higher and higher and higher until finally.

“Oh god, Chuuya-- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-- oohhhh Chuuya!!” Your back arches up, your fists close tightly in his hair, and you force his face into your pussy as you cum on his mouth and his fingers, rolling your hips to meet his touches. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps letting you use him as your orgasm rolls and rolls and finally starts to patter out. Only when you let go of his hair does he sit upright, pull his fingers out of you, and suck your cum off of his fingers.

“You’re a lot of fun, you know that?” he asks, standing up, stretching his somewhat sore muscles.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you sigh happily. Your whole body feels weightless and blissful and you aren’t ready to get up yet, even as Chuuya starts getting dressed.

“You dress like this often?”

“Every day off,” you say, finally having enough energy to at least pull your tube top back up to cover your breasts.

“Good. You should come see me again then.”

“You came to see me. And yes, you should come see me again.” You sit up, tilting your head and smiling mischievously at him.

“Guess I didn’t fuck the brat out of you yet,” he mumbles, reaching up to grab your jaw in his hand. “Next time then.”

“I’d love to see you try.”

[musubi-sama]

Game of Chicken

Satoru invited you to a club to see his favorite band play. But you have a boyfriend, so surely you can win this game of chicken?

CW: afab!reader x gojo satoru, modern au no curses, outdoor sex, piv, cunnilingus, DP if you squint.

AN: Shoutout to @/bunny584 and @/pseudowho for helping with two key elements! You two are amazing and I look up to you! And guess the name of the song and band I used.

WC: 5.1k | Link to AO3 if you prefer

~~~

Trying to quell the shivers of excitement and nerves, you focus on the road ahead of you. Glancing momentarily at the digital nav on your console, you change lanes in preparation to take the next exit. As you exit the freeway, you see another message arrive from Satoru.

>> Text me when you’ve parked and I’ll come down

You hadn’t planned on going out tonight, especially not planning to drive into the city and meet up with a new friend to go see a band at a local club. But when he sent you a text in the afternoon gauging your plans and interest, you all too eagerly responded yes.

Before you left for the evening, you sent off a message to your boyfriend:

<< going to Murasaki tonight, don’t wait up <3

An otherwise unremarkable drive, you spent the 30-minute trip with your music uncharacteristically low and your hands uncharacteristically fidgety on your steering wheel.

You’re just going to see a band with a friend. A friend, that you told your ridiculously tall, tanned, and handsome boyfriend about. A friend, whom your boyfriend assured you he is not worried about - you or him.

But each flick of the passing streetlights dances over your ticking hands gliding over the steering wheel. Light catches on the demure set of silver-shining rings your boyfriend bought you recently. They match a pair he wears on his right hand, while yours are thinner and more feminine for your left hand. The hands you hold when you’re sitting at home or walking around town.

Reaching Satoru’s building, you slip into the open visitor parking spot in the underground lot. Hopping out of your car, taking a deep breath to attempt to quell your nerves and quiet your hands, you send off a quick message:

<< hheree!

Damn your shaky hands! Again, sending off messages too quickly before you think.

A moment later after arriving in the cavernous, brutalist lobby, a shock of white hair attached to a tall, lanky body pops out of the elevator. Satoru is sporting a black and pink color block shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, distressed designer denim sitting perfectly on his hips and a sleek leather belt.

“Hey. Hi. C’mon up. How was the drive?” he says as you approach the elevator.

“The directions on the app sent me half-way around the city just to avoid the local roads,” you respond exasperated as you step into the elevator. The button for floor 41 is illuminated.

Satoru stands directly across from you and in a moment, you get a whiff of his sweet scent of vanilla and cherry. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your shirt and the lengths of necklace decorating your plunging neckline as you ride up the quiet elevator. It’s not like you’ve never spent time in a penthouse, in fact your boyfriend lives in one not too fa-.

Your thoughts are cut off as the elevator dings and opens up to a sprawling, blue and silver post-modern penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city. Satoru’s hand is resting in the space of your lower back, heat radiating into you but not quite making contact.

“Do you want a drink? We don’t need to leave just yet,” Satoru slips past you to the well-appointed bar area of his sprawling kitchen. A chill is left in the space where his hand sat, and it slides up your spine.

“Dirty martini, gin, if you have it would be lovely,” you take a seat at the oversized kitchen island seating. A drink will calm your nerves.

You’ve known Satoru for about a month, having met while in line for the deli counter during lunch. You both ordered sandwiches, then walked over to the drink cooler and tried to reach for the same can of seltzer, and somehow ended up next to each other at the register. After deciding to grab a seat and eat together, you exchange contact information and meet up for lunch weekly.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, Satoru carefully followed you around the deli creating “accidental” run-ins with you just so that he could sit down with you over lunch. A known playboy in the city, he was thinking only with his dick and with a goal in mind when he ran into you. And if tonight went well, you would be another notch in his bed post. And, if he played his cards right, a recurring one.

Satoru spent his entire life being gifted with everything. He owned the building you were standing in; his entire life was crafted for him specifically. Satoru only chose two things - his best friends and his sexual partners.

Satoru flashes a quick raised eyebrow at the request but quickly moves to grab the ingredients and set to mixing, “How many olives?”

“Hmm, four, please!”

You take in the view of the city from your perch. Even though it’s dark outside, you can still get a decent view as the lights are dimmed in the rest of the suite.

“Your drink,” Satoru slides the chilled and dangerously filled martini glass sitting atop a coaster across the shiny marble countertop towards you, not spilling a drop. He sits an old fashioned with four Luxardo cherries on a cocktail skewer in front of himself.

Satoru lifts his glass to yours, “kanpai!” as you gently bump your glasses together, still not spilling a drop. You take a quick sip and hum in satisfaction as the savory bite coats your tongue. You take a second, much larger sip before setting down your glass and picking up the skewer of olives.

“So,” you bite one olive off the stick, “who are we going to see tonight?”

The game of chicken has officially begun. You lay your first trap, shiny and red lips sliding around the piked olives.

“My best friend is the bassist in Jujutsu Kaisen and they’re playing a secret show tonight downtown.” Satoru follows your tease with a nip of the cherry from his own glass.

“Is this how you impress all your girls? With secret shows of mega stars?” another olive bitten.

“It’s not always girls,” he gives you a wink as he leans over the island, resting his head on his arm propped up by his elbow. The last two olives slip off the skewer because you need something to do with your agape mouth.

Winner of the game: whoever breaks second. You were going to win. You had to. You have a boyfriend, but you sure planned to enjoy the harmless chase. If you can chill out enough to enjoy it. The gin is really helping, though.

Stepping out of the building, Satoru leads you over to a luxury black car waiting for you and a driver holding the door open.

“This is too much, I thought you said we were just going to a bar to see a band?” you said incredulously, looking back at Satoru.

“We are. Ichiji is my personal valet. After you,” he waves you into the car and you slide in across the supple leather seats.

Satoru doesn’t think twice about how this looks. To him, this is standard operating procedure. He’d never considered any other way to get around the city. And of course, he asked Ichiji to use the sportier model today.

You take in the sights of the city as you take the quick 10-minute trip across downtown into the industrial district. Ichiji pulls up to a brightly lit club with a few throngs of people milling about.

Satoru leads you to the door, flashes something on his phone to the bouncer, and you’re both waved in. Sliding across the room to a pair of seats on the side of the club and a great view of the stage. Satoru slips away to grab you both drinks from the bar, returning after a few moments.

“My favorite shot to start the night, Red Headed Sluts,” he passes the shooter to you and you both take it in a single swallow. A small dribble leaks from the corner of your mouth. Satoru reaches over to wipe it off with his thumb, proceeding to lick it off while maintaining eye contact. You blush and immediately turn your head, trying not to look at Satoru after that.

Damn, lost that round. Focus, dammit.

Satoru slipped away again to return the shot glasses to the bar and get more drinks; this time a beer for you.

Checking the time, it’s almost time for the band to go on. The crowd has quickly started to fill in and you are developing a nice buzz, your head starting to feel a bit cloudy and suggestible.

The band comes out to roars from the crowd and you join in. Satoru stands behind you, one hand again hovering at your lower back. As they start their set, you get caught up in the music and fail to notice your date disappearing occasionally to keep your drink filled.

Each time he returns, his arms slowly reach up your body to rest on your shoulders. You’re in control, put your hands on his to make sure they don’t drift any further.

Then they encircle your shoulders, and you’re standing. Swaying your hips with the beat, lipstick marks on your glass appear with increasing regularity as you try to distract yourself. You’re playing against a master.

And slowly, Satoru’s arms reach down across your chest. By some definitions you have lost. But by the imaginary rules in your head, you move the goalposts. All is not lost. Other than your brain, in the moment. The band starts up a ballad, powerful chords racing through your veins, melodic lyrics and a stunning harmony between the lead singer and the bassist.

Satoru’s best friend, Suguru Geto, bassist of the band. His thick black hair, half pulled up into a bun, stretching down to his mid back, and bangs framing his face. Tall, broad and you can see the edges of tattoos extending across the edges of his shoulders into his bare chest. He has thick eyeliner, dark eyes, and a pair of sharkbites and large plug ear piercings to decorate his fierce face.

You’re going to lose the battle if you aren’t careful. Satoru, well-practiced in this game of cat and mouse knows that you are a timid mouse he needs to delicately trap if he wants to win.

An hour into the set, you are feeling incredibly buzzed, teetering on drunk. As the last song before the break starts, Satoru is now in front of you, standing between your legs and his arms are on your hips. His piercing blue eyes gazing down at you. There’s a slight smirk in his mouth as he slowly leans down. One hand traced its way up your side to pinch your chin and guide your lips to his.

Just before your mouths connect, you open your mouth to protest this moment. You have a boyfriend, what are you doing? This isn’t right, you’re already breaking so many rules. You need to stop, put distance between the two of you and keep it platonic.

But the song ends, music stops, the lights come up, and the band walks off stage for a short break. The crowds shift and move toward the bar, the door, and the bathrooms. You stand up abruptly, chest heaving, and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Some water on your face and a refresh of your makeup should help you calm down and fix this.

Standing at the sink, you take in yourself. You can do this, you can win.

Satoru grabs your drink to take a sip and finish it off. His pocket buzzing, he sees a text message from Suguru.

>> If you don’t fuck her tonight, I swear to god

Satoru chuckles and tips the beer bottle towards the now empty stage. The intended goal tonight was to do as much, at this point he just needed to convince you that you wanted this as much as he does.

You return after a long wait for the bathroom and with another drink. You’ve managed to calm yourself and you sit back down next to Satoru.

“Feeling better?” Satoru asks you as he places a hand leaning on your shoulder, just close enough to not touch your earlobe.

You shiver, unable to look him in the eye for more than a millisecond. “Y-yeah. I should probably drink some water,” you trail off. Satoru, already planning for that request, hands you a cup of water from the counter next to you. You take a long sip and the cold drink switches your nerves for cold shivers.

The lights flicker, indicating that the band is about to return to the stage. You join the crowd in cheering, focusing on the band and not the building desire burning between your legs. You’re here to see a band, and you have a boyfriend, one who satisfies you in ways you’d never even dreamed of. But there was something so enticing about what was standing right here, arms resting across your shoulders.

Hands drifting down from around your décolletage to brush the glittering peak of your breasts.

You arch your back slightly at the sensation, breath heavy with lust. Looking up and trying to focus on the concert, the bassist is singing into the mic, but his eyes are trained on you. Surely, he’s just scanning the crowd or looking for his friend, right?

But I'm only dancing / She turns me on But don't get me wrong / I'm only dancing

Your heart skips another beat, and you blush, tilting your head back and finishing off the drink.

Accepting that you’ve lost, you swallow your nerves and lean into the touch Satoru is giving you. Tilting your head back, you reach up to meet Satoru’s waiting lips. You take control and push your tongue into his mouth, taking your pleasure from him. Letting the alcohol suppress your inhibitions as you place your hands on Satoru’s while they continue to squeeze and massage your tits.

You pull away from the kiss. High from the adrenaline after jumping off the cliff.

“I need to tell you…” you trail off.

Satoru slides around to return between your seated legs.

“I don’t care, just don’t tell me about him.” Throbbing between your legs now taking over for all rational thought.

Satoru immediately leans down to leave a trail of increasingly stronger kisses along your neck. You stretch to give him better access. Your hands slip around the back of his head, scratching and pulling the nape of his neck and along his undercut. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you moan into his ear and bite down on his earlobe as you pull back.

“Let’s-let’s get going, back to my place,” Satoru doesn’t wait for a response as he grabs your hand and pulls you off the barstool and head out the door. As you leave, you noticed the bassist still has his eyes trained on you.

You stand outside while Satoru gives Ijichi a call to come around with the car, only waiting a few minutes. Those minutes are filled with very handsy kissing until you hear a cough, signaling Ijichi’s arrival and gesture to get into the car.

Satoru slides in the car first and pulls you onto his lap straddling him. You look back towards the driver’s seat but before you can protest, you’re cut off.

“You didn’t have a problem when we were back there in the club. You even seemed to want to be seen by Suguru,” he taunts and gives your ass a hard slap.

Even in the darkness of the car, with the passing streetlights, he could see your blush.

“C’mon baby, let’s just have fun, okay? Don’t think too hard about it. Besides, it was hot seeing you show off for Sugu back there,” Satoru grinds up into you and you can feel his erection straining against his jeans.

Satoru is enjoying the chase tonight. Trying out new tricks, using old ones that have gathered dust. You’re fun to chase. Are you as much fun to capture?

You spend the rest of the, mercifully short, ride back to his penthouse slowly winding your hips across his crotch, hands resting on his chest as you tease and show off your form. Finding little relief on your own tortured arousal.

Once you arrive at Satoru’s building, the two of you stumble out of the car and into the elevator. Before the doors close, Satoru pushes you up against the back wall and slots his muscular thigh between your legs. You can’t help yourself but grind on his leg as his hands pull down the front of your shirt and exposing your lacy bra. He reaches in and pinches your nipples; you keen at the touch, sucking in a sharp inhale of air.

“Are you even going to make it to my floor?” he teases you, pushing his leg harder against your throbbing, clothed cunt.

All you can do in response is moan obscenely. At this point every drop of inhibition is gone and you push back on his chest causing him to step back from you. You use this moment to drop to your knees and begin to unhook his belt.

“No,” you exhale as you begin to palm his straining erection almost painfully pressing against the seams of his pants. You unbutton his pants as he starts to run his hands through your hair, but the elevator arrives at his floor, and you hear a soft ‘ding’ when the doors open.

Disappointed, you stand up quickly and shuffle into Satoru’s suite, adjusting yourself back into your shirt, kicking your shoes off at the door and dropping your purse. You check your phone and see a message from your boyfriend:

>>> have fun ;)

You immediately stuff the phone in your dropped purse in a panic. But as soon as you bend down, you feel a pair of hands around your ass and a clothed erection pressed up against you.

“You’re making it too easy, baby,” Satoru croons into your ear and you roll yourself up to standing holding contact.

“Are you complaining?” your pussy pulses as he continues to grab your ass with one hand and snakes the other around your abdomen and pulls you in tighter. Satoru leans in to take a nip at your neck before releasing you and walking over to the door for the veranda.

You follow in his wake, eager to see the view of the city from here. The chill of the midsummer night washes over you, but just as quickly, Satoru approaches you at the railing and engulfs your body with his.

He doesn’t waste any time sliding his hands up your shirt, unclasping your bra, and removing both in one fell swoop. Satoru drops your items on the edge of the balcony before spinning you around and kneeling before you to remove your shorts.

Oh, he looks stunning from this angle. Subservient but dominating in power. Another trick he hasn’t played in a while.

You rest the back of your forearms against the balcony, spreading your legs slightly once your shorts are off. Head buried in the ozone of lust and anticipation.

You slip one leg over Satoru’s shoulder as he leans up to whisper a touch of his nose to your clothed cunt as he inhales your sweet scent of arousal.

He palms his restrained cock as his free hand rubs over your needy bud, eliciting a whiny moan from you. Seeing how soaked your little, useless, thong is, he hooks his finger onto the scrap of fabric and pulls it aside.

You use your heel to push Satoru closer to you and he eagerly obliges. Placing his hands on each thigh, he spreads your legs more to gain easier access to your dripping pussy.

Satoru licks a long stripe up your cunt, gathering your copious arousal on his tongue. Coming back again, he takes his middle finger and teases your hole eagerly clenching around nothing. Focusing his tongue on your aching nib, he adds a second finger and you let out another strained whine. He slowly slides his fingers in and out, twisting his hand and curling the tips to drag against that spongy spot deep inside you. You buck at the pace of his ministrations, moans getting louder with each thrust.

The pressure is building in your core, your heel is digging in even more to Satoru’s back. He moans into you, the vibrations traveling up your spine through the ends of your hair.

“C’mon baby, give it to me,” Satoru moans into you. His fingers speeding up, one arm reaching around your waist, tongue pushing directly and lips sucking on your pulsing clit.

The sensations reach a fever pitch, and you scream out as your orgasm takes you. Your hips jut wildly, your hands grip the railing of the veranda, and you throw your head back as the electric shock runs through your body.

Once you have regained some semblance of control over your body again, you slide your leg off Satoru’s shoulder. Satoru pulls his fingers out and sits back on his heels once your leg releases him. Licking his fingers clean with a moan, savoring your taste.

Satoru stands up and cages you in against the railing, urgently crashing his lips on yours, sharing your taste covering his tongue, lips, and chin. You eagerly accept, moaning into him as you lightly bite his invading tongue.

“How about we move this somewhere more comfortable?” Satoru grabs your hand and leads you back inside.

He brings you down the hall to his bedroom, dim lighting accentuating his aethereal features. You fall back into the plush bedding while the bed dips with a shirtless Satoru sitting behind you, legs on either side of your body.

Rolling over and sitting on your knees, you gently push Satoru’s chest allowing him to fall backwards. Nimble hands slide their way back down his abdomen, following the dips and peaks. What luck of the genetic lottery did he win to have such divine musculature.

You quickly finish the job you started in the elevator and remove his pants. Running your hand over his twitching erection restrained by his tight black boxer briefs, you give a few squeezes before you quickly rid him of the final layer.

All ten inches of his veiny cock spring free and slap against his abdomen. Your nerves suddenly come crashing back. But this time, it’s over how you’ll be able to take all of Satoru in you. You look up and see a shit eating grin on Satoru, arms resting behind his head.

You’re not the first person to gawk over his size. Aside from the obvious prizes for winning this game, the stunned moments his dates share compete for this reward.

You grasp the base of his cock and start to slowly stroke up to the tip, gathering his leaking precum as you slide your hand back down. After several strokes, you slide your hips over his and line up your wet cunt with his angry red tip.

Satoru places his hands on your hips to guide you as you slowly sink down. All the teasing, the anticipation, the yearning has built to this moment.

“There you go, doll. Take it easy,” he chuckles as you gasp. Feeling full and it’s only barely halfway in, you let out a shakey moan. Bottoming out, you hold still for a moment before slowly rocking your hips back and forth. Savoring the fullness and depth he’s reached inside of you.

Locking eyes, you throw your head back, hair flying back in a splash as you pick up speed, taking control of your pleasure. You’ll deal with the consequences in the morning, the fun of chasing and capturing this apex specimen has you enthralled.

Sliding your hands up your body, giving in to the rhythm, you pinch your nipples and let your full tits fall and shake.

In an instant, a blink, and your world flips around and suddenly your chest is in the plush bed, a hand under your abdomen hiking you up. Pace never faltering, Satoru’s heavy balls now slapping against your ass as you’re pulled up onto your hands and knees.

“I loved the view, but something tells me you like this better,” he pulls back and finds that one angle that gets that scream from you.

You reach up to the headboard for leverage as you push back against Satoru. You can feel the coil winding again, deep in your stomach. A hand finds its way to your peaked nipples and with one, two, three pinches your orgasm washes over you again. You lose your grip on the headboard, crashing into the pillows while Satoru slows to feel your warm gummy walls pulse around him.

Not wanting to spill just yet, he waits until you’ve regained some control before reaching his thumb towards your little unused hole.

You feel a sudden wetness drip onto your ass as Satoru’s thumb presses the spit into you. Gasping at the intrusion, you just moan “more, please, god.”

With a smirk, Satoru slowly slides his thumb in and out, half speed to his hips. Using his other hand, he grips your plump ass and then pulls back for a loud slap. Not impressed with the sound of the first, he reels back for a second. This time, leaving a lovely red mark. Secretly hoping it is still visible when you go home in the morning to whomever is waiting for you.

“Baby, can I give you a mess?” Satoru asks, not a drop of fatigue in his voice, only lust.

Your mouth answers, again, before you can even think of a response, “please.”

Satoru pulls his thumb and cock out of you, precum and your slick leaving a sticky trail connecting the two of you as you roll over to your back.

Satoru is kneeling as if to propose and offering you pearls instead across your pussy.

As he finishes, you reach down to spread the sticky mess on your sensitive and hairline trigger clit. Utterly debauched, you cum with a yelp and arch your back at your own touch.

Satoru collapses on the bed next to you, taking your wet hand into his. You moan and clench your thighs as he cleans off your hands, taking each finger in turn, slowly rolling the digit around in his mouth and across his tongue.

“I should wash up,” you croak out, trying to avoid eye contact while your one-night stand seemingly fucks you again with his ocean blue eyes.

Satoru gives your fingers one final lick and slides out of bed. He disappears into the bathroom, and you hear the shower turn on. After a minute, he pops out of the door “shower’s this way, doll.”

Somehow you manage to wash up, in spite of an extra pair of hands and a sneaky pair of lips following after every clean patch of skin.

Falling asleep is easy, the warm afterglow of a couple orgasms and a spicy shower let you both drift off into the morning.

Rolling over, you’re awakened by vibrations coming from the headboard. You reach up and find Satoru’s phone ringing.

“Hey, fix it,” you grumble as you push the phone into Satoru’s chest. He removes his arm from under your head as he blinks several times attempting to read the caller ID.

“Yo,” his voice gravelly and clipped. “Mhmm, yeah sure no problem.” He hangs up and puts the phone back on the shelf.

Satoru reaches his arm across you and pulls you into the crook of his neck, kissing the top of your head.

“Hi,” you mumble as you stretch your leg across his.

“Breakfast? I’m in the mood for pancakes,” a rogue hand makes its way down your back onto the swell of your ass.

“And some ibuprofen?” your free hand finds its way through his abs. You can’t believe how someone who just woke up doesn’t have morning breath nor the musty musk of a just-awoken body.

“How about a hair of the dog that bit you?” he winks as he gets out of bed and puts on a pair of lounge pants, letting them hang low.

You walk around the corner, hearing an unexpected voice coming from the kitchen. Clad in nothing but a button-down shirt you pulled from Satoru’s closet, you decide to make the best of it and ignore any shame for being the one-night stand the morning after.

“Hey handsome, pancakes smell good,“ you stop short as you round the corner and see who Satoru is talking to.

“Hey baby, sounds like you had a good night,” Suguru turns away from Satoru to face you as you approach the kitchen. He gives you a slow elevator stare. “Looks it, too.”

“I-I did. And you sounded amazing last night, I loved the new song,” you excitedly bounce over to Suguru a kiss on the cheek and join him at the kitchen island.

“Hey Satoru, you should be more careful where you put your guests’ clothes. These-“ Suguru places a shirt and bra on the table, “were laying on the sidewalk this morning. And considering I bought them for my girlfriend, I know they came from your veranda.”

Satoru’s jaw hits the floor as he attempts to work out what is unfolding in front of him. Suguru never mentioned he had a girlfriend, and you didn’t mention a boyfriend. Wait, then why did he send that text message last night?

“I’m sorry but what is happening?” Satoru points his spatula at you, catching you in the middle of a messy kiss with Suguru.

“When I found out my lovely girlfriend ran into you, we decided to see how long it would take before you tried to get into her pants,” you’re pulled closer to Suguru.

“It was my idea, once Sugu filled me in on your sordid history.”

Satoru rolls his eyes at the implications.

“Yeah. Now, I tipped the deck in my favor by setting up the private show last night. I knew you couldn’t resist the tempatation.”

“What am I, some common manwhore?” Satoru cries as he puts a hand on his hip and returns to the griddle.

“Yes” both you and Suguru respond in unison.

“But a manwhore with a really nice ass,” you add.

Satoru just sighs and serves up three plates.

[alexa-fika]

Hello there may I request Whitebeard pirates find out about Ace has an older sister (not by blood) can you do their reaction when they saw Ace has a beautiful big sister with two different eye color one deep sapphire blue and a rich lavender color

She has a devil fruit that can make her manipulate silver

Reckless Charmers (Whitbeard pirates x f!reader)

A/N Here we gooo, A whole month after 😂, im slowly putting a dent in my requests yall. I had a hard time deciding where to take this, and in my first draft I thought I had it but I realize I djn’t have either silver nor heterochromia so , major fail 😂

Reader here is replaced by dokucha which stands for reader in japaness

Dividers by @/Saradika

“Ace, how much longer till we get there?” She yells over the roaring of the striker, glancing behind her towards the man powering the boat

“We’re almost there; I see the Moby. It should be just a few minutes now.”

“You did tell them I was coming, right?” She questioned

“Well….”

“Ace..”

“Do they even know you have a sister?”

“Well, it didn’t really come up?”

“Ace!”

“Hahahahaha! Don’t worry so much they will love you.”

She sighs, turning her attention to the landscape in front of them

“You’re unbelievable, Ace.”

“Yeah, Yeah, we’re here.”

“Race you to the top?” She said with a grin

“Really? We’re not kids anymore Dokucha”

“Aw- Hey! You damn cheater!” She hollered after he jumped towards the galleon, quickly transforming her neck into a silver lance and using it to impulse herself after him

She scowls at him as they land on the deck of the galleon

“You litt-

“Ace, you’re back,” a voice cut in

“And you brought someone with you-yoi,” he states, glancing at the woman questioningly, throwing a disapproving glance to Ace

“W-Wait, it’s not what you think! This is my sister, Dokucha!”

He hums, glancing at the woman beside him

“Hi, I hope I am not intruding” she stated, giving the commander a small bow

“No, not at all, Ma’am. Make yourself at home,” he said, throwing her a smile

“Thank you, Sir; I appreciate your kindness.”

“Ah, no need for formalities, just call me Marco; hey Ace, you should bring her around more often-yoi,”

“Hmm? Why’s that?”

“You can learn a thing or two from her, maybe how to be a little bit more civil-yoi.”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?!” He scowls

“Hey Ace, who’s the beauty you brought?” Thatch questioned, walking towards the trio

“This is my Sister, Dokucha”

“Well, Golly, ma’am, do excuse my honesty, but you look sweeter than a cherry pie,” he drawled, giving her a smile

“You have wonderful eyes, my; I could just lose myself in them, don’t see a pair like yours every day.”

She flushed at his words, giving him a small smile

“Charmer, aren’t you?”

“I can see where the good genes went to.” he quipped back

“We’re not related by blood; also, go to hell, thatch.”

“You want to go at it, firecracker?”

And just like that, Dokucha found herself sitting next to Marco as the two commanders went at it, the crew slowly gathering around them and cheering them on

“Is it always like this?” She asked, sipping on a drink provided by one of the members as she glanced at Marco

“Usually takes more jabbing to make them go at it, but it does end up like this at the end of the day,” he said, watching the two go at it

“He is right; you do have wonderful eyes; I‘ve never quite seen such a case of heterochromia-yoi.”

She throws him a grin

“Thank you”

“I saw you making a lance when you came into the boat, are you a devil fruit user-yoi?”

“I am; I didn’t quite make a lance more so than I changed it into a lance.”

“How so?”

“I’ve got myself the gin-gin no mi; essentially, I can control and become silver; I always carry around silver jewelry so I can change into a weapon when necessary.”

“Ah, a logia?”

“That’s right; Ace, Sabo, and I are all logias; Luffy is the odd one out with his zoan fruit; you have one as well, don’t you? A Zoan-type”

“That’s right; how could you tell-yoi?”

“You ha-

Her words are cut off as a blade headed her way, which she simply avoided by moving slightly; glancing at the blade, she noticed how the wood began burning under the blazing blade; she followed the trajectory to the two men who had stopped their brawl to look at the damage they had caused

“Shit, Thatch, that’s our cue to get out of here,” Ace curses pulling his friend away

“Hah? Why?”

“Listen, man, you don’t want to find out what happens next.”

She gives them a tight smile, rapidly transforming her jewelry into a staff

“Marco,” she called

He hummed in response, curious at the sudden shift in attitude

“You are the vice-captain, correct?”

“I am”

“Then I formally request permission to show these two a lesson.”

“Approved-yoi,” he said with a grin, leaning his head against the palm of his hand

“Marco, you damn traitor, Thatch run!”

“Where are you going, little brother?” She said, approaching the two

Yall I had to being out southern Thatch out, this was the perfect chance, I just had to have a flirty Thatch, we need it

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[reikorun]

KlubOutside Q&A 201-300 [Translation]

Translated by @reikorun

Q201.

2021.09.20

I like Luppi. I was absolutely overjoyed when Luppi made an appearance as a playable character in Blade Battlers 2nd which was released on PS2. In this game, Luppi's arms transform into tentacles and he could extend them to attack. I was surprised because there was no such depiction in the original work. Did sensei also supervise the settings for attacks in this game?

A201. 

I can't recall so I probably didn't touch it. Luppi fighting with outstretched arms is so entertaining to me. I think that outlaw kind of feeling is one of the greatest qualities about games back then.

Q202.

2021.09.20

Of all the characters you have drawn, which one did sensei consider the most difficult to design?

A202. 

Shun Shun Rikka, or rather the image of Orihime's abilities is the one thing which changed the most without quite clicking together. Initially, the story was that Orihime herself would grow Horns and sprout a tail, becoming sort of like a dragon girl.

Q203.

2021.09.20

Sensei, is there any character that you have drawn who makes you think "this guy is insufferable"? 

A203.

There isn't. I draw while thinking “this is so scummy, that's the best thing about it.”

Q204.

2021.09.20

Does Kubo-sensei have any fetish? When I look at sensei's drawings, I can't help but speculate that you like slender wrists and long fingers, regardless of gender. 

A204.

I don't have any particular fetish. I think it's because I draw illustrations using my own hands as reference.

Q205.

2021.09.20

Regarding Ichimaru Gin's eye color, I believe it was red around the early days of the anime, and then changed to blue in the latter half. What does Kubo-sensei think of his red eyes around this early stage? Also, as far as Kubo-sensei's canon is concerned, is it safe to assume Ichimaru Gin's eye color is blue? 

A205.

In the early days, the checks were not being handed down to me so they ended up being red. For the record, the anime related mistakes were errors made by my editor at the time who didn't bring the checks to me. Because of this, I drew Gin with his eyes open on the cover of volume 20.

Q206.

2021.09.20

Rukia's visuals in the live-action adaptation has become quite a hot topic of conversation, but was the matter reviewed by Kubo-sensei?

A206.

I had made it clear from the beginning that I would not be involved with the live-action project, so basically the whole thing was given the okay. Even regarding Rukia's hair, there was a conversation where they said "we'd like to go ahead with this" so I assumed there was a clear vision but it turns out there wasn't. I don't dislike the movie itself. Renji was extremely good.

Q207.

2021.09.27

Kubo-sensei, to what extent do you supervise merchandise and so on? I'm very happy that a lot of BLEACH merch has been released recently.

A207.

I feel like I'm supervising the things my editor can't make a judgment call on. Speaking of editors, they try their best to avoid handing over supervision duties to authors so that they can allow authors to concentrate on their creations, but after the series had ended, I had some free time so my editor has started bringing me more supervision duties than before.

Q208.

2021.09.27

If it were to come true, would you ever wish for a BLEACH anime adaptation, which faithfully follows the original work, to be broadcast by way of a remake?

A208.

I think I would.

Q209.

2021.09.27

It seems that the 2021 art exhibition will only be held at one location in Tokyo, but would it be possible for you to consider holding it at a variety of other locations? I'm really looking forward to it, but I'm sure there are many people across the country who live a considerable distance away and can't make it. It's a wonderful opportunity, so I think it will be easier to visit if it is hosted in various locations. I think it's a really difficult task, but I would be grateful if you could consider it just once.

A209.

I also want to show the exhibit to my parents, so I hope it will be held in Hiroshima.

Q210.

2021.09.27

Even though Byakuya and Ichika-chan never interact in the original work, I can easily imagine Byakuya being an uncle. I wonder why that is?

A210.

I can imagine it too. Byakuya's face whenever he tells her "kamawanu*"…. (*It's fine/I don't mind)

Q211.

2021.09.27

In volume 58, chapter 518, when Grimmjow was trying to interrupt Urahara and Ichigo's communication, Urahara instructed Orihime and Sado to "use the you-know-what to chase him back outside the tent", but what exactly was the "you-know-what"? What in the world is it, that it can throw Grimmjow off balance to such a degree…? I've been wondering about this for a long time.

A211.

It's a device which emits a sound that Grimmjow dislikes.

Q212.

2021.09.27

Is Ninny-chan easier to draw than Noel-chan?? I was curious because there are more illustrations drawn of Ninny-chan!

A212.

This is because the clothes I want to draw tend to suit Ninny better. If you have big breasts, it's probably difficult to find clothes that suit you.

Q213.

2021.10.04

Ginrei is Byakuya's grandfather, but Kyōraku did not mention his name as a Shinigami who has been Captain for 100 years or more, so perhaps his career as a Captain was rather short?

A213.

I forgot to mention him! Let's just pretend it was Shunsui's blunder.

Q214.

2021.10.04

Do you find that characters of a certain age group are easy to draw, and conversely,  characters of a different age group difficult to draw? 

A214. 

I'm not very good at drawing children or toddlers.

Q215.

2021.10.04

I have been curious about Tsubokura Rin-kun of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute. Rin-kun's hair wasn't filled in when he was in monochrome, I thought for certain he had pale blonde or white hair. However, in the anime his hair was dark brown … so as far as you are concerned sensei, what colors did you imagine when designing him? 

A215.

Was that the color it turned out to be? The image I had in mind is a pale sepia-like color.

Q216.

2021.10.04

Isn't it too bothersome to draw Grimmjow's hairstyle??

A216.

It's too bothersome isn't it? I wonder if you could give him a stiff pompadour instead?

Q217.

2021.10.04

Do you remember the first game you ever played?

A217.

It's "GeGeGe no Kitarō - Yōkai Daimakyō" which was purchased for me together with the Famicom unit itself.

Q218.

2021.10.04

Do you get asked to draw portraits by acquaintances?

A218.

I have always refused all portrait requests from both friends and celebrities.

Q219.

2021.10.11

What is Kensei's specialty dish? 

A219.

It's "Whole Pumpkin Gratin". The highlight for him is the part where he gets to use his bare hands.

Q220.

2021.10.11

When I saw the Playlist on KlubOutside, I was surprised at the wide scope of Sensei's music choices. How do you discover new music?

A220.

SoundHound is my recommendation.

Q221.

2021.10.11

Is the bellyband worn by the Shinigami Men's Association the same as the one worn by Kirinji Tenjirō?

A221.

It's different. The bellyband Tenjirō wears was made by Senjumaru.

Q222.

2021.10.11

Now that I think of it, what does "Whiskrs" mean? I looked into it, and although there are some existing terms, I couldn't find anything in particular with regard to its meaning. I don't know whether sensei came up with the name or not, but perhaps it envelopes some special meaning? 

A222.

It's a modified spelling of the word "whiskers". I came up with the name, or to be more specific, it's originally the name of a store that exists within the BTW universe. Though, this still has yet to make an appearance in the story.

Q223.

2021.10.11

When you go out, have you ever had a fan recognize you as Kubo-sensei and then attempt to speak with you?

A223.

A long time ago, another author wound up uploading a photo of a drinking party I was with to Twitter in the middle of the get-together, the restaurant was identified from the photograph and I was ambushed. It was late at night and I was on my way home alone, so it was really scary. That was probably the one and only time I was approached on the street.

Q224.

2021.10.11

Sensei, have you ever felt negatively about your own work in the past? I am currently creating works with the goal of becoming a designer, but unfortunately I feel embarrassed to display even the things I have created very recently in front of others. How do you overcome this from your perspective, sensei?

A224.

When I first became a manga artist, I felt embarrassed when my editor read my draft right in front of me. If you are creating something that personally satisfies you, you're just not accustomed to showing it to the average person, so you have no choice but to show it to a bunch of people and get used to it. 

Q225.

2021.10.11

Have you ever had a character Awakened in Brave Souls? If so, I would like to know which character it is.

A225.

It's Fierce Battle Aizen. Though, it's more like I just ended up Awakening him when I was targeting others.

Q226.

2021.10.18

In the work, it was never once stated from a  reliable source that Tōshirō's Bankai comes undone once his petals dissipate, but what actually happened when his petals fell away during the period he had an imperfect Bankai? 

A226.

Hitsugaya would injure himself after going through an imperfect growth.

Q227.

2021.10.18

When Rangiku had collapsed, Gin said "the fact that you passed out from hunger, it means that you have it too, right? Spiritual Power." and in Volume 11, there is a description from the exchange between Rukia and Renji that those with Spiritual Power feel hungry. But why didn't Hitsugaya realize he had powers until he dreamed of Hyōrinmaru?

A227.

Because his grandmother taught him that "only children get hungry.”

Q228.

2021.10.18

Why did Orihime's Rikka grow larger when Chad and Orihime returned from training in the final arc? I was curious because no one touched on the matter.

A228.

That's because Kisuke modified it to match her clothes (a cover was installed on the outside of the pins to make them difficult to break), but nobody said anything because they didn't think it was particularly worth mentioning.

Q229.

2021.10.18

When I was looking at "Hirako glasses" which was updated on the Gallery's Graffiti section, I became curious, what is that thing Hirako Shinji is holding in his mouth? Considering the hot drink in his left hand, maybe it's a cinnamon stick or something?

A229.

It's a cigarillo that he's holding in his mouth purely for fashion. I looked into it when I drew it but I couldn't find anything that matched the size I imagined.

Q230.

2021.10.25

Good evening! The work titled "maturity" in the gallery that was released on April 3, 2021, could that be Mayuri-sama?

A230.

It's Mayuri. When I tried to type the title "mayuri", I accidentally tapped on the wrong suggestion and entered that instead, I left it as it is because it's a pain to change it.

Q231.

2021.10.25

Did Ikkaku make the strap that Ichika has attached to her bag in JET?

A231.

That's right.

Q232.

2021.10.25

In BLEACH, how much influence did the ranking results of popularity polls have on a character's level of activity?

A232.

It's irrelevant. I'm the type who thinks "isn't that kind of thing discourteous to characters with few votes?"

Q233.

2021.10.25

Regarding the art exhibition, is it possible to increase the number of venues? I would absolutely love to participate, but due to the current situation, it is quite difficult to travel to Tokyo. Nevertheless, there are many fans of sensei and his work around the world. Although this is a very presumptuous request, I would be extremely grateful if you could consider it. Best regards.

A233.

I'll let my editor know! Murakoshi-saaan!!

Q234.

2021.10.25

Sensei, given that you play a lot of Dragon Quest, I was curious, is "Zaraki" - the district of Rukongai which Zaraki Kenpachi took as his name - based on the spell "Thwack" (*Zaraki in Japanese).

A234.

That's correct. Hold on, have I never mentioned this before?

Q235.

2021.11.01

Is there any reason why Kyōraku-san couldn't grace the cover of a tankōbon? I wanted him to have a cover.

A235.

It's just a coincidence. I wanted to draw it too.

Q236.

2021.11.01

Are Renji's tattoos only on the upper half of his body? Do they not continue down to his thighs?

A236.

They don't continue down. Wait? Have I never drawn his thighs before?

Q237.

2021.11.01

Is the double chant that Rukia recited during the fight against Aaroniero, simply the Sōren Sōkatsui chant split in two, with the Rikujōkōrō chant sandwiched in-between? Or does the substance of the chant change slightly depending on whether each is invoked independently or as a double chant?

A237.

It's a shortened version of Rikujōkōrō inserted between the full version of Sōren Sōkatsui. The effectiveness of the spells will increase if you perform both chants in full, but the time efficiency will decrease, so that would diminish the purpose of a two layered chant.

Q238.

2021.11.01

When a Zanpakutō is inherited from another person like in the case of Tōsen and Kenpachi, will the essence of its soul be overwritten? Or will it be made to mix with the essence of the previous owner?

A238.

Generally it is overwritten, but in some cases it may mix.

Q239.

2021.11.08

Were there any foreshadowing elements that made you go "ultimately, nobody noticed, huh?" up to the end of the BLEACH serialization? If so, is it likely there will be an opportunity to present it somewhere?

A239.

After I've finished playing a game or watching a movie, I like spending time alone thinking about what happened here and there or discussing with others about this and that. I want to create moments like that, so there are some parts where I try to depict things in a way that is not easily noticed, that's why unless someone correctly points it out, I try not to say much. 

Q240.

2021.11.08

Why didn't Ryūken give Uryū the "ken" (弦) character in his name? ×[1]

A240.

Because he was thinking that he didn't want to let Uryū become Quincy.

Q241.

2021.11.08

How far have you progressed in Monster Hunter? If there is a monster that you like among the monsters that appear in this title, please tell me about it!

A241.

I haven't played in a while. In this title I like Goss Harag.

Q242.

2021.11.08

Can I post the photos from the gallery on social media??!?!?

A242.

I guess it's not allowed, going by the FC rules. You can post my dog from Deskside at least.

Q243.

2021.11.15

Have you ever had to change a scene you originally wanted in order to make the depiction more in line with Jump guidelines? If so, which scene is it and how did you truly want to draw it? 

A243.

During the time Jump had a large circulation, extremely graphic depictions were not allowed, so I had to redraw some of the places where Mayuri appears. The first thing I fixed was the scene where his squad members die in an explosion.

Q244.

2021.11.15

There are characters for whom the theme music feels perfect, and on the other hand, others for whom the theme music is unexpected. By listening to each character's song, I feel like I am able to learn more about a character's inner being, it's so much fun! When deciding on a song, which does sensei place more importance on: the lyrics, or the melody?

A244.

It's only about the melody, sound and vocal quality. If it's the case that the lyrics also match, it's just a coincidence.

Q245.

2021.11.15

The market for e-books has grown larger, but when it comes to electronic and physical copy, people often say things like "you should buy the physical book!" What do you think? 

A245.

Either one is fine. Even I read most of my manga electronically now. I like making paper books but I think physical paper copies will become more of a collector's item in the near future.

Q246.

2021.11.15

Kubo-sensei draws many animals, but are there any that you particularly enjoy drawing?

A246.

Right now it's dogs. Since owning a dog, I've started to grow fond of animals, so I feel like I may reach a point where I'm able to draw animals a little better now. 

Q247.

2021.11.15

If there was an entrance song for Chad's boxing match, I wonder what kind of music it would be? If you have a song in mind that you can imagine for this scenario, please share the artist's name and song title with us.

A247.

It would be "Apache" by Michael Viner's Incredible Bongo Band.

Q248.

2021.11.22

An illustration of Tatsuki wearing a Shihakushō exists, did you originally plan to have her transform into a Shinigami? 

A248.

The one I drew for Jump Festa a long time ago, right? That's just an illustration I drew for Jump Festa that one time.

Q249.

2021.11.22

It seems like Rukia often wears dresses in the Human World, is there some reason why? If you have any particular preferences regarding the clothing choices of the BLEACH cast, please by all means, tell us about it!

A249.

I'll give you three example reasons for why they wear what they wear:

Orihime's body type makes it difficult for her to wear a dress.

I wanted to make a physically active Rukia stand out by making her wear clothes that are ill suited for physical activity.

Rukia was wearing hakama in Soul Society, so she's not familiar with fitted clothes.

Q250.

2021.11.22

You may not remember this … but during an autograph signing session, I was the one who announced "I'm getting married to my boyfriend who I initially became friends with through BLEACH!" We broke up at lightning speed after that! (Peace sign.) But sometimes we hang out and are on good terms as friends. Now my question is, what is sensei's favorite color?

A250.

My condolences. It's orange.

Q251.

2021.11.22

In the JET Q&A segment, you replied that the Vice-Captains of the 13th Division ten years later would be Sentarō and Kiyone, but I believe Kiyone was also the Vice-Captain of the 4th Division, so does that mean that they are concurrently serving as Vice-Captains?

A251.

That would be a mistake. Sentarō is the only Vice-Captain of the 13th.

Q252.

2021.11.29

Please tell us how Unagiya Ikumi-san and Ichigo met in the first place.

A252.

Their meeting came about when Ichigo delivered Kaoru, a lost child (and Ikumi's son) back to his mother. (Ikumi encountered them en route.)  

Q253.

2021.11.29

Ichigo remembers the time Orihime carried her older brother Sora to the Kurosaki Clinic, but does Orihime remember meeting Ichigo at this time? When Ichigo entered high school, he noticed that Orihime was the girl from back then, does Orihime realize that it was Ichigo who greeted her at that moment?

A253.

Ichigo is the only one who remembers. Ichigo remembers that scene clearly because he felt a strong sense of one-way sympathy for Orihime, who was on the verge of losing her family.

Q254.

2021.11.29

Sensei, what's the one thing that makes you think "I'm second to none when it comes to this!"?

A254.

My Mickey Mouse impression.

Q255.

2021.11.29

I got the impression that Aizen-sama was often drinking black tea at Las Noches, but I wonder if likewise he drank Japanese tea during the time he was in Soul Society in the role of a Shinigami? Or is it that Western style food and drink like black tea also exist in Soul Society, and he has been a black tea enthusiast since long ago?

A255.

I drew that because I wanted a scene where Aizen eats the same thing as the Espada, but when it came to eating, there were some characters (like Ulquiorra) who I didn't want to depict in a dining scene (at that point), so I merely chose black tea as a compromise, therefore it's not that I was paying any particular attention to tea itself. 

Q256.

2021.12.06

Is it possible for a member of the Gotei 13 to transfer to another Squad at their own behest? Recruitment of Captains or Vice-Captains from other Squads has been portrayed, but what is the situation like for ordinary soldiers?

A256.

It is possible if they make an application and obtain permission through their superior officer all the way up to the Captain. However, If they don't have any accomplishments their superior will reject it so it's difficult for an ordinary soldier.

Q257.

2021.12.06

Do you have a favorite coffee shop?

A257.

The place I frequent the most is Hoshino Coffee. I want to go to Komeda but I haven't had the chance to go yet.

Q258.

2021.12.06

What kind of life did Ikkaku-san and Shino-chan lead in Rukongai? I'm not sure if they're related by blood or not, but are they still family?

A258.

They're ordinary relatives. The Madarame family are a distinguished family and Ikkaku is treated like an oddball.

Q259.

2021.12.06

What do you order when you use services like Uber Eats for delivery?

A259.

The thing I order the most is Starbucks' White Mocha. By the way, I don't use Uber because I had a scary experience in the past.

Q260.

2021.12.06

I would like a YouTube channel or something to be created for Uni-chan. 

A260.

If I could get someone to do the editing for me, then I would like to make one to document my dog's growth, but I don't think I would update it often….

Q261.

2021.12.13

If you were to spend a day with any character from "BLEACH" or "BURN THE WITCH", who would you like to be with?

A261.

I seriously thought about it, but maybe being with Balgo would be the easiest….

Q262.

2021.12.13

Speaking in terms of BLEACH characters, who would you compare the breast sizes of Noel-chan and Cquntnire-san to? 

A262.

It's more or less that I'm drawing Noel like Orihime and Cquntnire like Nel.

Q263.

2021.12.13

What is Kubo-sensei's favorite rock or metal band?

A263.

I haven't been listening to much metal lately…during my high school days, I liked ROYAL HUNT and IN FLAMES.

Q264.

2021.12.13

This is closer to a request than a question, but I would like for you to issue and sell, the currently trending, NFTs with BLEACH illustrations! If that were to happen, I would definitely buy them!

A264.

I'll let my editor know about this also. Murakoshi-saaan!

Q265.

2021.12.13

What is your favorite ice cream?

A265.

Lately, I've been liking HERSHEY'S Chocolate Ice Bars. It's also nice that each bar is small and just the right size.

Q266.

2021.12.20

I have a question regarding BTW Magic. In chapter 0.8 which is a one-shot, Noel-chan uses Absolute Dragon Shatter in Front London, but in chapter 1, numbered Pipers spells known as "Magic" made an appearance. As a premise, I believe that Magic and Absolute Dragon Shatter are alike (as they both use Witch Kits), I suspect that the reason why Noel-chan adopted this unnumbered attack method in Front London may be due to one of the following two points:

1. Magic is an attack method that utilizes the medium of Witch Kits to feed on a special energy similar to Reishi which exists only in Reverse London, on the other hand, Absolute Dragon Shatter is an attack method made for Front London, which does not require this special Reishi. 

2. Given that it was an attack against a Disguiser Dragon who had remained hidden for ten odd years, Absolute Dragon Shatter was used as an arcane means and is considered the highest order of Magic or even a method surpassing Magic itself.

I'm really interested about the relationship between Magic and Absolute Dragon Shatter, will it be revealed within the story in the future!?

A266.

How insightful, I'm not sure whether or not I'll get to write about it in the future so I'll explain. In Front London, you can basically only use spells through items that are "charged" with magical power. The gun-pipe is not a rechargeable item, but Noel habitually fills it with magical power of her own accord, the release of that power is Absolute Dragon Shatter. Only Noel is able to use it. 

Q267.

2021.12.20

The person Ichigo respects is Shakespeare. Given this fact, does it follow that this is a universe where eminent figures like Mozart and Napoleon existed?

A267.

Eminent figures certainly exist within the Soul Society too, but if I were to touch upon that, the manga would end up in a completely different place, so I didn't bring it up.

Q268.

2021.12.20

Do Szayelaporro's glasses have lenses? Since it's a mask, there should be no lenses so I assumed it was the frame alone. However in the anime, there were depictions of lenses reflecting the light and gleaming so I was confused! 

A268.

There is no lens.

Q269.

2021.12.20

Were all the designs of the Zanpakutō which materialized in the Zanpakutō: The Alternate Tale arc, created by you, sensei?

A269.

I came up with some ideas and had an image in mind, Kudō-san designed them, I checked them. They pass for various reasons like being "just as I imagined!" or being "interesting because I wouldn't have come up with this design myself!"

Q270.

2021.12.27

Do you have a favorite character from Dragon Quest numbered titles or spin-off works?

A270.

It's King Grossner (Dragon Quest 10).

Q271.

2021.12.27

I heard that you like figure skating, Kubo-sensei, but do you have a favorite athlete?

A271.

It's Candeloro.

Q272.

2021.12.27

It is mentioned in the novel "WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU", that when Shiba Kaien died in battle, Isshin was the Captain of Squad 10. Why didn't Rukia, who was already serving as a member of the Gotei 13 at the time, realize that Ichigo's father was Shiba Isshin when she was freeloading off of the Kurosaki family? 

A272.

There are two reasons for this: for one, his outward appearance was completely different. Secondly, he was a Captain from another Squad and she was a regular soldier, so they didn't have much point of contact in the first place. To go further, given that there is no way for a Shinigami to have children with a human (only Kisuke knows how), the idea that a "Shinigami may become human and produce children in the Human World" did not occur to Rukia.

Q273.

2022.01.03

I like the accessories (hats, sunglasses, etc.) and clothes that the characters are wearing in KlubOutside's Graffiti, they are exceedingly stylish. Is it possible to put them up for sale? 

A273.

I will let the FC manager know about this. Totani-saaan!

Q274.

2022.01.03

Sensei, do you have any plans to publish, for instance, the yonkoma you drew for the magazine into a single book someday?

A274. 

It might have been published in JET.

Q275.

2022.01.03

When you were writing BTW, who came to your mind first between Ninny and Noel?

A275.

Out of all the characters in BTW, Noel was the first.

Q276.

2022.01.03

When Rukia entered her name into the family register, it's assumed that she did not change her last name, but now that she has become a Captain, it means there will be two Captain Kuchiki, so how do the other troops distinguish between the two when addressing them? Is it possible that she will revert to the Abarai surname?

A276.

Many of the troops differentiate between them by calling them Captain Kuchiki and 13th Captain Kuchiki. 

Q277.

2022.01.10

Did Zangetsu eventually return to being a single blade? The "Ten Years Later" version of Ichigo was implemented in the social game - Brave Souls, and he wielded the "Zangetsu which emerged from a broken Tensa Zangetsu" as seen in the final stages of the Thousand-Year Blood War arc. Zangetsu which was reforged into two swords for Hollow and Quincy, became one as Tensa Zangetsu in Bankai, so I thought for sure it would return to two swords once the Bankai is disengaged.

However, does this mean that Zangetsu did not return to two swords due to the fact that after activating Bankai, Ichigo's Hollow and Quincy powers were absorbed by Yhwach, and that his Bankai was damaged among other factors? Or is it that it's possible for Ichigo to wield both the dual swords and the single sword if he so desires?

It may just be game original staging to begin with, but I was intrigued.

A277. 

Since I haven't described this in detail nor do I plan to portray the matter any further, I'll give you an answer. The two blades of Zangetsu are the "sword" and the "sheath". The correct form of a Zanpakutō is one that has a sheath, and there are only two swords without one: Sayafushi and Zangetsu. What fixed Zangetsu into its "correct form" is the dual swords state, and in Bankai Zangetsu is placed back in its sheath, what emerged after that sheath was shattered is the "True Zangetsu". The shattered sheath was absorbed by Ichigo, so I think he is also able to return to dual blades if he wants to, but I suppose that depends on Ichigo himself.

Q278.

2022.01.17

I've always wondered about this since reading volume 12, but was there a physical relationship between Aizen and Hinamori? I think it's more fitting for Aizen to not engage in this sort of thing, so I'm on the side that says it didn't happen.

A278.

I won't answer this because I think it'll be more fun to leave it unanswered.

Q279.

2022.01.17

Is Hōzukimaru a rare type of Zanpakutō which always requires the sheath for its Shikai.

A279.

That's right.

Q280.

2022.01.17

Kubo-sensei, when it comes to TVs, are you in favor of wall-mounted? Or do you prefer freestanding?

A280.

Mine is attached to a wall storage unit with an extendable arm.

Q281.

2022.01.24

Upon being granted a letter, does the Schrift allow abilities to manifest based on the nature of an individual? Or does His Majesty already know what they are before granting it at the epithet stage. 

A281.

Yhwach can see words almost as if they were engraved on the individual's body. Those who are bestowed Schrifts, which were previously lost through death in battle and so on, are discovered from the words engraved on them and then given power.

Q282.

2022.01.24

Do Yōkai and Yōsei exist in the world of BLEACH?

A282.

It would be more fun if they did.

Q283.

2022.01.24

A color version of the BLEACH e-books exist, but does Kubo-sensei decide on the color scheme and such?

A283.

There are parts that I check and parts that I don't (I only check what my editor asks me to check), but even the parts that I do were decided upon rapidly in the intervals between my work schedule during serialization, so when I look at them afterwards, I often come to think "was this the kind of color I chose??”

Q284.

2022.01.31

Sensei, if you had the opportunity to be involved in a project in the future, what sort of creative work would you like to be involved in? (Live-action film, animated movies, manga, dramas, YouTube, etc.)

A284.

If I could get involved with the story aspect, then it would probably be a game.

Q285.

2022.01.31

If you could actually sell any kind of merchandise at the fan club shop, what kind of items would you want to sell?

A285.

Bracelets with the text from the opening poems.

Q286.

2022.01.31

Is the reason why Uryū was not affected by Auswählen connected to Uryū's grandfather?

A286.

There's a bit of a complicated setup regarding this, but it might appear in the anime adaptation of the Thousand-Year Blood War arc. (Depending on the composition.)

Q287.

2022.02.07

It has already been decided that the Thousand-Year Blood War arc is getting an anime adaptation, but will there also be an anime adaptation of the side story novels? I'd especially like to see "WE DO knot ALWAYS LOVE YOU" in the anime which depicts Rukia and Renji's marriage and the progress of Ichigo and Orihime's relationship.

A287.

Ah, I see. If there is enough room, then it may be possible.

Q288.

2022.02.07

Is it not true that Gigi is a girl? It kind of seems like Yumichika only said otherwise to provoke her.

A288.

Giselle is a man.

Q289.

2022.02.07

Who was the one to slash Rukia from behind during the first invasion by the Sternritter?

A289.

The plan is to depict this in the anime version.

Q290.

2022.02.14

Is the giant spoon used by Hikifune Kirio of Squad Zero actually her Zanpakutō?

A290.

That's correct.

Q291.

2022.02.14

During the performance of the ROCK MUSICAL BLEACH, Kubo-sensei personally talked to Tsuchiya-san, who played the role of Gin, about Gin's true intentions and purpose, as he was having a difficult time interpreting the character, and Gin's true intentions had not yet been revealed within the story at the time. I remember there was an episode which went something like that, but in so doing, did you also discuss everything which occurred with regard to Rangiku and Aizen? Also, did you not have any reluctance to divulge information which has not yet been revealed in the story?

A291.

I feel that we talked about things like how Gin viewed each character rather than the story itself. If it is necessary for the performance, then there is a possibility that I may also convey undisclosed information to the voice actors so it's not limited to this particular occasion.

Q292.

2022.02.14

Is the "table with English language BLEACH quotes suspended inside its transparent legs" which you wrote about in the cover flap comment of Volume 44, still being used? I would love to see photos of sensei's favorite furniture and more!

A292.

I use it when I'm composing my drafts at home. The tabletop is in disarray, so I hope a photo of the legs will do.

Q293.

2022.02.21

With regard to the role of a Shinigami, it involves cleansing Hollows of their sins by way of a Zanpakutō and sending them to Soul Society in peace, but was this role simply to extinguish Hollows until Nimaiya Ōetsu showed up?

A293.

It was only after the creation of the Gotei 13 that the role of a Shinigami was properly defined.

Q294.

2022.02.21

At what age did Chad get his tattoo? Was it when he moved to Mexico? Or did he get it inked in his own hometown in Okinawa? I would be grateful if you could tell us.

A294.

He got his tattoo in Mexico when he was 9 years old.

Q295.

2022.02.21

I heard that the Lost Agent of the Shinigami arc concluded earlier than planned, is that true? If so, I'd like you to tell us about the story you were actually planning to write.

A295.

You mean the rumor that I was planning to compose an episode for all the classmates but I got bored and decided against it? If so, then it's true. I feel like I mentioned that in a character book or something.

Q296.

2022.02.21

Have you ever wanted to draw Oiroke manga? (*Manga with light erotic content.)

A296.

I'm not confident that I'd be able to draw it well.

Q297.

2022.02.28

In the BLEACH PS2 game "Bleach: Erabareshi Tamashii", techniques such as "Hadō #20: Shōtenkyū" and "Hadō #26: Gōensai" made an appearance, but were these Kidō Kubo-sensei's ideas or the creations of the game staff? If it's the former, I'd also like to know how to write it in kanji!

A297.

I had no involvement with that so they're the creations of the game staff.

Q298.

2022.02.28

I really love the relationship between Ichigo and the store manager, Unagiya Ikumi, and you can sense in the air how Ichigo suddenly turns back into a child. Please tell us if there was anything you paid extra attention to when creating Ikumi-san.

A298.

Ikumi is a character that was born because I wanted to create a place for Ichigo where he could be himself outside the Kurosaki home due to a plot development, that is, the sudden loss of a place where he belongs in the Lost Agent arc.

Q299.

2022.02.28

In "BURN THE WITCH", it seems that each division is armed with a different type of weapon, but in the event that they change affiliations, like how Bruno encouraged the witches to do in the story, do they undergo training with new weapons?

A299.

They train with new weapons. It is also among the Director's faculties to ascertain an individual's suitability for a weapon and then offer an invitation to them.

Q300.

2022.03.07

Is the thing under Hisagi's left eye, tape? A tattoo perhaps?

A300.

It's a tattoo.

Translation Footnotes:

×1. 弦 means bowstring and is in both the names of Sōken (宗弦) and Ryūken (竜弦).

[legon751]

the saotome special

i was excited about the ranma reboot announcement and wanted to make a cocktail for it. i think this color changing one works perfectly ;)

base recipe is just a tom collins (gin, simple syrup, lemon juice, and club soda)

i infused the gin with butterfly pea blossoms which made it the deep blue. i then shook everything except the soda and lemon juice and poured it in my glass.

i put some edible glitter in the lemon juice and mimicked that old lady with perfect comedic timing...

the acid in the lemon juice makes the butterfly pea blossom change from blue to pink! just like a certain martial artist...

if i make this again i have a couple tweaks. i have some fake hibiscus on order for a garnish which would emulate the shonen sunday cover where ranma has one in her hair. i also have a tiny gold teapot i could use to pour the "hot water" (blue gin).

im so stoked for this reboot i hope you guys like my stupid little addition to the hype!

[psi-scribe]

Ultramarine Drink Preferences Part 1

Behold part 1 of a silly thought projection, because I refuse to believe they only drink wine and there's no variety in the 500 worlds. There's plenty of others I have been thinking about but I figured these guys will do for a start lol.

Marneus Calgar: The Chapter Master can have any kind of alcohol he could want; he keeps a few different kinds in his quarters for when he has guests over and he knows which they prefer. As for himself? Brandys are his go too, occasionally making a mixed drink for himself when he has some quiet time.

Varro Tigurius: Weaving spells and producing a good gin is not so different for Tigurius. The different botanicals used in the process changes the outcome, even when they are added can change it, not even his gaze knows the outcome. For Tigurius this is part of the reason he enjoys it and tries his hand at it sometimes.

Cato Sicarius: Still has access to his House’s vineyards back on Talassar, they occasionally send new bottles from fresh harvests or from a new grape species they’re working on. Prefers darker wines over lighter ones. If he likes you, he’ll give you a bottle too.

Demetrian Titus: Heavier drinks that are more meant for sipping such as whiskeys, usually a social drinker or fixes himself a new glass when settling in for several hours of reading or paperwork. Though his deathwatch brother Ulfar helped him get a taste for “mjod”.

Torias Telion: A bit of a generalist in his current age, will gladly drink whatever he’s offered. However…in his youth? Somewhere the advanced libraries of the Fortress of Hera there is a recipe for the Astartes equivalent of a Long Island Iced Tea, strong enough to drop a Space Wolf after one glass.

Severus Agemman: “Wine on the streets, whiskey in the sheets”, if it doesn’t have some kind of burn going down then he’s not going to enjoy it as much. Keeps a few different kinds in storage and cracks one open every few decades to see how the age changes it.

Malum Caedo: Mixed drinks, the brightly colored, vaguely fruity ones. No one will ever believe you, even if you had a pict of him drinking one though his helmet’s beak with a curly straw.

Gadriel: Prefers lighter, citrus wines but he’s still exploring his preferences, so it’s bound to change. Titus let him and Chairon try a bit of what he had left of his deathwatch brother Ulfar’s “special brew” and both of them felt like they were going to cough up an organ and swore “never again.”

Chairon: Anything that came from Calth, usually this means vodkas and whiskeys. occasionally trying a mixed drink using one of those if someone recommends something to him. Will roll his eyes if someone tries to start an argument over what is better. “Let’s not dull the mood and spoil the drinks” just…keep anything brewed by a Space Wolf away from his senses, thank you.

[legobiwan]

Post-Weirdmageddon Stan & Ford

Trying to sort out their characters to get a better grasp of what I'm doing for some writing projects and, yes, I'm subjecting you all to it.

Ford makes a big, showy deal about burning his Bill paraphernalia, to the point he comes across as a bit manic the day of the bonfire, engaging in loud, rapid-fire conversation with Mabel and Dipper. Stan has a sneaking suspicion his brother may have palmed one or two items before he and the kids carted the frankly disturbing number of triangle artifacts up from the basement. Later on, Ford makes a production out of both throwing his journals in the Bottomless Pit and shooting Bill’s psycho diary into an interdimensional rift. His brother is every bit as dramatic as Stan is, which is why Stan can’t help but think Ford is using these events to “prove” he’s past the thirty-year obsession he had with a malevolent piece of geometry homework. This instinct is only strengthened by the times Stan caught Ford creeping out from his lab the nights following these events, trailed by the odor of cheap gin. (Stan very much tries not to think about the fact their father drank gin, too).

Stan and Ford approach genuine emotional conversation like two skittish alley cats. Half the time Ford’s emotional response is caught up in cerebral traffic and what he does feel he can’t put a proper label on until days, sometimes weeks (sometimes years) later. Stan has difficulty shedding the Mr. Mystery mask, thirty years of shoving every hurt feeling behind the flick of a cane and a colorful tall tale now so instinctual Stan sometimes feels he can’t separate the two, like he’s lost track of the narrative of his own life. They’ve been able to power through one excruciating session (with the help of an ample amount of bourbon) in regards to the night Stan was kicked out, their watery apologies heartfelt, if a bit slurred. But Stan’s afraid to push his brother too far, still feeling as if he has the Sword of Damocles swaying above him, and that at any point Ford’s going to snap out of his self-imposed sentence of contrition and bring down the blade on Stan’s neck himself.

Because of this, Stan gives himself little landmarks, little goals and dates to hang on to, to convince himself this is all real and that the rug won’t be pulled out from under him. Two weeks without the kids and Ford not kicking him out of the Shack. One month before they’re supposed to leave for the Arctic with them surviving their first real argument. He figures if they can get through three months at sea without Ford kicking him off the boat and leaving for good, there’s a chance Ford’s change of heart might be permanent. He has the date circled in a calendar they have hanging in their shared quarters. Ford’s asked about the importance of it, if there was a birthday or anniversary he was ignorant of, or if perhaps it was one of those new superfluous holidays Mabel has told him about, like National Waffle Day. Stan pretends he can’t remember why he circled the date at all, which, of course, prompts all kinds of intensive questioning from his brother regarding his mental acuity and the memory gun. Stan laughs it off - probably something to do with the taxes I’ve never paid, he says with a long, Cheshire grin. 

Ford refuses to talk about Bill. He doesn’t even attempt plausible deniability when he grabs the steering wheel of the conversation and makes a squealing U-turn worthy of a bank heist escape if they stray too near Bill’s name. The times Stan has tried to initiate conversation, has waded near that radioactive topic, his brother has either outright ignored him or given Stan a look so cold it would probably register as a climate anomaly. It’s easier…and safer for both of them to avoid it. (This won't end well).

This isn’t to say they’re having a bad time prepping for their journey or on the boat. Overall, it’s the most relaxed Stan has felt in years (and best of all, the likelihood of the IRS having a maritime patrol is vanishingly small. Stan can’t help but think - with no small amount of smug satisfaction - that if Capone had taken to the sea, he might not have ended up in the federal clink). And despite the fact his brother can be a pretentious, argumentative, know-it-all pain in the ass, they’re getting along. Having fun. Even if Ford is an absolute cheater when it comes to card games.