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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

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Sidewomen - Twitch Quartet x Youtuber/Streamer! Reader

Plot: Y/N started a youtube group with 5 friends from school, and they all got famous. They had one video with the Sidemen, which led to them jokingly being called the Sidewomen. What happens when she comes onto one of the F1 boys stream.

Back when you were younger you and your friends would make funny videos, it was a group of 5 of you. You guys always joked about how you were the off brand spice girls, all having majorly different looks and personalities but somehow made it work.

As you guys got older, and content wasn't just silly kid like videos your subscribers grew, as did your names in the community. You ended up getting lots of attention and ended up making a video with the Sidemen. It was one of their $200 dollar v $20,000 dollar holidays. Josh and one of your girls, y/f/n, were the people out of the challenge and prepared it for you.

On one team, it was you, y/bf/n, Tobi, Simon and Harry and on the other team it was your your other two friends with JJ, Ethan and Vik all on the other team.

You guys lucked out in the video and ended up getting the $20,000 holiday being sent to The Sands Hotel in Barbados. You guys spent the week there doing watersports, art, sightseeing and relaxing. After this video, people jokingly started referring to you as the Sidewomen. You guys did similar challenge videos on the joint account you all had, but on your individual accounts you all had different passions.

One of you big ones was gaming, as well as travel. One year in 2019, you'd done a Budget Travel with me around the world. Where you'd followed the F1 Grand Prix around the world, attending each race with the cheapest ticket you could get, and the cheapest flights and standard accommodation. You camped at Silverstone, which was difficult considering you had at this point 10 million subscribers and people had noticed you.

This got you a lot of traction and in Abu Dhabi the last race of the season you were given a paddock pass upgrade. You filmed around and showed what was offered at the different hospitalities and you met some of the pit crew, but out of respect you didn't haggle any of the drivers.

They noticed this. Of course they did.

There was a buzz when you'd come into the paddock. One majorly different from when different celebrities came in. You knew the sport and you knew the sport on a technical level. If you wanted to in a different life you'd be a commentator or an engineer.

The drivers were shocked that every time they saw you to try and say hello, you were busy talking to a mechanic from Aston Martin, or a Social Media Member from Red Bull, or the coffee girl in Ferrari hospitality... you were seemingly walking around and talking to everyone but the drivers.

Once the pandemic hit, in early 2020 and it was said that the Australian GP had been cancelled and the rest of the season seemingly had as well.

But this was fantastic for content creators, you were now pretty much what everyone was watching. So when you saw Lando, George, Alex and Charles all streaming on twitch sim racing against each other you took the opportunity to be a menace.

You subbed to each of them, tier 3 of course before gifting out a load of subs.

"Thank you so much y/t/h (your twitch handle) for the 50 gifted subs, that's insane" Charles said seeing the notification pop up. Everyone in chat started to go wild, realizing it was you.

"Thanks for the 50 gifted y/t/h, really appreciate it!" George had said before proceeding to crash into a wall and look at the camera in defeat before reversing his car and driving towards the pit lane.

"Ah thank you, how do you say that name... y/t/h? Thank you for the 50 gifted, I'm still new to this so I'm sorry if there was a message with that and it didn't pop up for whatever reason, mods ... let me know" he says, as sweet as ever making your heart warm.

"y/t/h ... what the hell is up!" Lando exclaims being the only one to actually recognize your twitch name and know who you were.

"Lando who are you talking too?" George asks hearing the boy not muted.

"Wait you guys know Y/N Y/L/N right?" Lando asks having made you a VIP in his chat so he could see your messages easier and seen that all of them didn't have the realization that it was you.

"Yeah, her videos have saved me in quarantine!" Alex exclaimed remembering that him and his girlfriend Lily often binge watched her videos, calling her their shared wife as a joke.

"Oh, yes she's the one that did the 'Not a rich man's sport series' right? Where she did every single GP but on an minimum wage workers affordable budget to show you can still do it! I love that series!" Charles exclaimed.

"Dude, who doesn't know Y/N, I grew up watching her because she was only like 3 years younger than me and she was incredibly relatable. I watch her whole groups videos" Alex admits before Lando bursts out laughing.

"Okay, so how haven't you realized she's in your guy's chat and is gifting subs to you!" Lando laughs, he starts DMing you on Instagram asking for you discord.

"SHE'S WHAT" Charles exclaims, before looking over into chat to see them spamming your name.

"No way" George says quietly.

"OMG Lily! Come here, our wife is in my twitch chat" Alex shouts out before everyone goes quite.

"Huh?" Lando asks with a little bit of a choke.

"Lily and I agreed we can have one genuine celebrity crush, but its gotta be mutual and its Y/N so she's our shared wife now" he explains making the rest of them all laugh.

"Hello everyone!" you say as you joined the discord call before all hell breaks loose.

"I cant believe this right now" George mutters to himself, Alex was yelling to trying to get Lily to come join him and to come on camera to say hi to you.

You launched up your own stream so the boys could also say hello to you properly.

"Hey stream! What's going on, yes you guys will be meeting some very cool people today. We have Williams Racing Driver George Russell, Red Bull Racing Driver Alexander Albon, Ferrari Racing Driver Charles Leclerc and lastly Mclaren Racing Driver Lando Norris joining us today" you introduce before they all say hello on discord. Your chat was half and half, either spamming that you were streaming with the zoom zoom car men, and the other half asking who the hell these people were.

"Holy shit, there's 30k people watching us online right now" Lando says looking at your view count going up.

"So, Lando suggested that you guys interview me, or like give me a quick fire quiz about 2019 considering i was there for all races!"

"Ohhh okay sounds interesting! I'm first!" Alex offers and you smile at the camera.

"Where was my first race with Red Bull?" Alex asks and you smile.

"Spa right?"

"Ding Ding" Lando shouts loudly making you flinch and laugh at the sound.

"Okay my turn! How many podiums did i have in 2019, and where were they" Charles asks.

"Oh come on, he wins in Spa, he wins in Monza ... you had two" you recite the quote of the year to him and see a big cheesy grin on his face.

"My turn how many points did i get in my rookie season of 2019" George asks and you sigh.

"Such potential there George but unfortunately you came out with 0 points!" you shake your head sadly.

"Okay me next hmmmm, my rookie season was wasn't great either... I don't know what to ask. Oooo what was my highest position?" he asks and you look stumped for a second.

"P6?" you ask more than answer him.

"Actually fella's i may have to check that myself" Lando pauses not quite sure.

"Why on earth would you ask a question you don't know the answer too..." you exclaim in outrage, looking to the camera with a 'wtf' look.

"Look, last year was ... well I don't even know how to describe last year!" Lando exclaims before he cheers.

"You were right it was in fact P6 i got that in Bahrain and Austria" he explains.

"Look, even though i had a weird and wacky year from staying in a hostel in Belgium to a Love Hotel in Japan ... I remembered everything from that year!" you say backing yourself up.

"Okay back to me, where was my highest place drive in Torro Rosso?" Alex asks.

"Oh fuck, in Torro Rosso, mmmmmm. Oh my gosh my mind has gone blank for any races higher than P8 for you. P8?" you ask sheepishly knowing its not but its the only race you could think off.

"Nope it was P6 in Germany!" he laughs and you sigh with an 'oh damn it' and a light smack on your desk.

"Fuck"

"Okay me me! Who did i race for before i moved to Ferrari?" Charles questions and you role your eyes before looking over to chat who are spamming Tifosi.

"Alfa Romeo Sauber and lets be for real you slayed that rookie season pookie" you say, and everyone laughs.

"God what is this pandemic turning us into... slay ... what even is that?" Lando ask like one of those old middle aged mums who squint when you show her something on your phone.

"SLAYYYYY" you scream and chat start to spam the emote you made for it.

"Okay, well what was my lowest race finish?" George asks.

"Erm including DNF'S?" you ask and see him shake his head before saying no on his stream.

"P19, you avoiding that 20 like I avoid my ex-man boi" you chide making everyone laugh.

"France is not you friend" you admit, looking up to double check you were right, showing chat George's statistics from the 2019 races.

"Okay, and me what is the name of the new esports gaming org that I am going to launch soon"

"Quadrant, which chat... he wants me to leave to leave fnatic for them. Chat what do i do?" you ask and chat spams you with yes or no's and its funny to see the split and the argument. Twitter would have a field day over this later.

"Oh god Y/N why do you have to create chaos everywhere you go!" Alex laughs before he makes a weird noise.

You change tabs to check his screen, and see Lily. You gasp loudly making sure everyone can hear.

"What?" George asks.

"Alex who is that beautiful woman on your screen and is she single" you ask, knowing full well its Lily his girlfriend since last year. You'd seen their posts on instagram.

"No way, she didn't just say that. Your lying" you hear Lily mumble before looking unsurely at the camera and chat to see if they would tell her it was all a joke.

"Y/N this is Lily, she's my ..."

"Yeah i don't care about that lemme talk to her, cos she's gorgeous" you say and Alex hands Lily the headphones.

"Hey darling" you try and say in a seductive voice and you see Lily fold on stream, banging the desk lightly and biting her lip.

"Your hand in marriage please Y/N?" she asks and you nod enthusiastically to chat.

"Lily, we spoke about this... she's are shared wife" Alex admits making you stifle a laugh before returning serious.

"Alex, get away. You aren't involved here!" you say before everyone laughs, joking how they feel like they are interrupting your's and Lily's first date.

Afterwards you spent a lot of time streaming with them, you couldn't travel as much as you used to for your YouTube channel so you ventured out of your usual stuff, going as far as to start a podcast and join a gaming org.

It was even sadder, not streaming with Charles, George and Alex anymore. Sometimes Lando continued to stream, but after the pandemic you didn't get to see that silly and chilled out side of them as much.

You'd gained... and managed to save a lot of money in the pandemic. So come the 2022 season, you were offered a 'small' and 'unprofessional' job by Formula One, you were basically your own social media for them. You were given a paddock pass to every race, you were given podcast privileges with pretty much whoever you wanted and they paid you all to give them more traction.

You created the opposite of your first video where you went on the best flights and the snazziest hotels, even going on Max's private jet for one event.

Everyone loved it, and you still did your normal videos on the side, like day in the life, and those aesthetic travel videos that everyone secretly loves, lifestyle and beauty videos etc.

Apart from the fact that the pandemic was awful and harmed many and really created a rift between some of you friendships and family and had, at one point got you nervous about your income, had actually paid of and turned out to have one of the best outcomes for your future in content creation.

A/N: My heart really goes out to anyone and their families who were affected by the pandemic, it was an insane time for all of us and is shocking that it genuinely happened in our life time. But it taught everyone so much, and we all learned a lot while this was occuring!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc x reader #lando norris #george russell imagine #george russell #george russell x reader #alexander albon #alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon imagine

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redriotinggg · 6 months ago

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east blue polycule hitchhiking au that i’ll never write

luffy n zoro meet at a convenience store/gas station. and find out they’re both pretty much stranded with no destination in mind. they team up and use the last of their money to buy snacks and bottom-shelf booze.

enter nami, who steals their wallets while they’re making out by the slushie machine and is pissed to find out they’re broke as hell.

zolu catch her but are ultimately intrigued by the angry red-headed bandit. she ends up coming along with them because they can be her protection if needed and she knows she can outwit them if she needs to get away.

the trio finesse their way onto a bus, where luffy tells nami that her freckles look like stars, and zoro says he knows she’s strong/tough even though she may not look like it. (“don’t let her puny fingers fool you, this woman’s strong”). her heart skips a beat and she wonders when her standards got so low, but she’s happy, so she lets it slide.

the bus takes them to the beach, where they encounter usopp, who’s sitting alone, painting the scenery.

luffy sees him painting and runs over to ask about it, doing so and unabashedly stealing the food from his picnic basket. nami and zoro also come to steal. usopp’s pissed bc wtf??? that’s his food???? but then they compliment his painting and he’s like, “Well it’s bc I’m a descendent of Picasso-” and the trio turns into a quartet.

turns out usopp has a vehicle! (“why do you have a wholeass mini-van at 19 lmao” “shut up it was a hand-me down! and it’s convenient to carry my artwork around”) and has been using it to drive around and think. his one-man roadtrip turns into a three-man-one-woman roadtrip. he feels he should he mad and is a little mad but mostly he’s happy to have new friends. he just hopes they don’t kill him. (“btw guys if you try to murder me, my friend modified me into a killer cyborg so i wouldn’t do that if i were you”)

they come across some guys trying to rob a woman, so luffy n zoro beat em up and nami steals their wallets. they use that money to pay for their dinner at—you guessed it—the baratie.

just like in canon, zolusona terrorize sanji, who’s working tables after being punished by zeff. he’s pissed enough to be impulsive, so he lets the quartet steal him away from the restaurant and back into the van.

they head back to the beach with food and booze stolen from the restaurant, eating, drinking, and having more fun than any of them can remember. shared gazes, amused smiles, whispered secrets. they were all meant to meet. they can feel it.

luffy runs off to skinny dip in the ocean and zoro strips down nude to join him. the other three blush but strip down to the their undies, holding hands as they race to the water. they all laugh and swim and play. it’s fun and intimate, and none of them can ignore the connection they’ve made. can’t ignore the pull they feel for each other, as individuals and as a collective.

exhausted, they lay usopp’s multitude of blankets onto the sand and collapse on top of it, falling asleep curled around each other, only to be rudely awoken by the beach’s lifeguards, who give them the chance to pack up and leave before they call the cops.

“what now?” usopp asks when they pile back into his van. along with the others, his breath catches at the sight of luffy’s wide, dazzling grin. “off to the next adventure, of course!” and so they go. <3

#east blue polycule #east blue crew #merryshipping #zolu #zoluna #sanuso #i’m not tagging all the ships no no no. just rb this for me thanks #luffy #zoro #nami #sanji #usopp #one piece #op fic #red’s writing #red’s fic

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wutheringmights · 8 months ago

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After I finished reading The Epic of Gilgamesh today, I entered a fugue state where I sat down and read the entirety of Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

On the record, I have had a lifelong love and adoration for Pierce's Tortall books. I first read the Song of the Lioness quartet when I was 11, and they rewrote my brain. I love them so much. I reread them and the other Tortall books on a semi-frequent schedule.

It's been a while since I reread any of the Alanna books, if only because my sister took our shared copies when she moved out. I've been meaning to buy my own set for a long while now but haven't been able to justify the purchase. The other week, I just so happened to find the first two volumes at my local indie bookstore. I bought them immediately, as well as ordered the third and fourth book. (And discovered that the store owner knows me by name-- when I went to pick up my order, she saw me and said, Hi Frankie! I got your books over here.) (I may be spending too much money there.)

So I have been in a bit of an emotional rut these past few weeks. Work sucks. Life stinks. The temptation to run off to Tortall and curl up in the fantasy story that captivated me as a kid has never been stronger.

Ergo, I ran off to read the first book as soon as I could.

If you're looking for any critique of this book, series, or Tortall in general, I will never give it. Sure, it's problematic and dated, and in many ways imperfect, but someone else can list out all of its issues. They're all perfect to me.

Anyway, the book. I should say something about this book in particular.

One thing I appreciate about Pierce's writing is how she handles school settings in fantasy. Learning and training is so mundane. All of her heroines have to work hard and put in extra hours of study in order to improve, much less keep up with their peers. It's so normal that it circles around to being weirdly refreshing.

Also, there is still no other fantasy author who handles period talk and birth control the way Pierce does. We make fun of the trope of fantasy birth control nowadays, but I rarely see it presented as it is here: as a part of normal puberty lessons and given long before sex is in the girl's radar. And even today with the glut of YA fantasy stories out there, I still have yet to see menstruation be portrayed as frequently or as bluntly as Pierce writes it.

There was a period of time publishers really tried to push the Tortall books as straight YA, which doesn't work for that reason alone. You gotta market them to middle schoolers. They're the ones just starting puberty talks, and getting scenes like this is so good for their brains.

Moving on: I fucking love these characters. Alanna was an icon of brash, temperamental heroines that have shaped my taste to this day. I love how even in the first book, Jon is kinda shitty. I adore George Cooper. Talk about a taste maker the way this man sets a standard.

I just can't be coherent when it comes to any Tortall books. I have no thoughts. Head empty. I am going to binge the rest of this series as quickly as I can before my library book comes in. Then normal book content will resume.

Before I go, I need to talk about the book covers.

Growing up, my sister and I had these covers:

Which, god. I love them. The black is striking. The art is incredible. Alanna looks so good. They were the perfect pocket-size too. I was going to buy the same edition for my copies, but instead I got the 40th anniversary reprints:

Not bad at all! These books have had some seriously bad covers, and these look great! Very anime, which will appeal to the 11 year olds who need to have their socks rocked by this series.

But, man. I really miss those black covers. One day I will splurge and buy a second set of them just so that I can stare at the art.

#having a not normal time on tumblr dot come right now #alanna my beloved #if you were a deity i would worship you #me rambling #me reading #bookish #books and reading #books #bookblr #Alanna: the first adventure #the song of the lioness #tortall #tamora pierce

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sewmice · 15 days ago

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More Quartet Night CDs for the TABOO NIGHT XXXX movie have been announced!

Starting on Wednesday, February 5, 2025, solo CDs, duet CDs, and medley CDs of the four members will be released every other week for three consecutive months! You can find the list of CDs, songs, and all details at the website here!

They release in standard order, Reiji through Camus. Then the duet CD with a Reiji and Ranmaru duet, and Ai and Camus duet. Just like SAMURAIZM and UUUU, there is a special edition for each pair but the tracks are the same. The final CD is new medley songs. This contains 1 more Quartet Night song, and then 1 more song per boy with the other 3 as backup vocal/chorus.

All of the solo CDs come with 1 drama track, and the duet and medley CDs have multiple drama tracks.

Ordering each CD through Animate JP or Broccoli before January 26th will get you a special clear card for that CD. Ordering all 6 CDs through Animate JP or Broccoli will get you special bonuses. Animate has an autograph board and 7 CD storage box (you only have to order 1 version of the duet CD, but it will fit both if you get both). And Broccoli will have a drama CD. And then there's lottery prizes from the Animate CDs. This is all very similar to how it was with the QN Solo Best CDs.

All of these CDs should release as usual on US iTunes as well. The only exception will be the previously announced Quartet Night TABOO NIGHT XXXX CD which will likely be streaming only on Spotify and YouTube Music.

#uta no prince sama #utapri #quartet night #reiji kotobuki #ranmaru kurosaki #ai mikaze #camus

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hwaightme · 9 months ago

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Feel alive

(masterlist) (taglist)

🌑 pairing: strictland!seonghwa x gn!singer!reader 🌑 genre: fluff, angst, dystopian, sci-fi, noir, music, lovers to enemies to lovers 🌑 summary: after escaping the confines of prestige academy you find yourself singing at 'morpheus' - an underground bar and club for strictland outcasts. except this reality, too, crumbles before you. your fate is again in the hands of the same man, and you are forced to ask yourself: what does it mean to 'feel alive'? 🌑 wordcount: 9.5k total 🌑 warnings/tags: semi-edited, authoritarian regime (strictland/z/universe z), lore-inspired, guns/gunshots, implied attack on club, implied violence, crime, alcohol/drinking, implied organised criminal networks, discussions about death/murder/execution, nihilism/existentialism, 'bout as dark as the diary entries, long lost lovers, starcrossed, hope, blue bird, jazz, uprisings 🌑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🌑 a/n: noir hwa, ateez synthwave song quartet, and lore ponderings. hope you enjoyed <3 any notes, reblogs, comments, asks are always welcome! much love!

The lights dimmed, and it was as if the jazz bar never existed in the first place. The worn seats occupied by drunks who liked to pretend they had taste, sofas in the far corner reserved for big shots and well-established scum with pretty young accessories on either arm, the bar that sold everything under the rays of the dying sun and evil moon, it all disappeared with the dawn of the spotlight falling upon your alluring silhouette. A simple, yet elegant sleek black dress with a hint of shimmer that graced your curves seemed to shine in the glimmering illumination. The delicate silver accessories were stars in the hypnotising sky, the allure of an unreachable universe becoming overwhelming as your hands glided over the length of the microphone to find purchase on the stand. The music, starting from a low rumble, was an echo of the abyss surrounding you, manifested only at the softest inhale. After what could have been the drums and trumpet, or could have been the heavens announcing the beautiful singer’s presence finished their spontaneous introduction, Seonghwa had the pleasure of forgetting his purpose, at least for as long as the song lasted. He could drift into a sultry paradise, seduced by what had to be a siren’s call, and regard the customers of the Morpheus bar with something less than loathing.

As soon as he cleared the last of the russet coloured drink he had ordered in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar, shutting his eyes momentarily to focus on the warmth of the alcohol running down his throat, Seonghwa found the fingers of his right hand softly drumming out the song in accompaniment, each digit hitting one note, another, again and again. Back in the day, it had not been often that his visits to the bar occurred at the same time as the one and only Y/N’s performances, but when they did, he swore he could see the smog clear and tomorrow become a certainty. The music consumed him whole and even though he knew down to the second when the magic would be extinguished, a part of him still retained the hope that the spell would never be broken. Not when the only encore he could guarantee for himself was another torturous raid on an establishment such as this one, or another feverish witch hunt for those who had regained their ability to feel and to think freely. All in the name of a faceless leader who even Seonghwa himself had only met a handful of times despite being in a high ranking position of Guardian Inspector - above the standard white-clad machines, above the so-called officials clad in military uniform, he was in charge of ‘keeping civil hands clean’. At what cost? Perhaps his own emotions were the price.

The dark-haired man caught himself wondering how many people in this bar could enjoy themselves to the fullest. How many of these poor unfortunate souls that succumbed to the rush for easy money and easy love were true followers of hedonism, and were spending their days in an enviable bliss? Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa regarded his surroundings with a subtle scorn. He was well aware that he was to blame for it all too; The regime, to retain the ultimate, unwavering control over the citizens, even those who wholeheartedly believed they were well-hidden from the authoritarian judgement, was a supplier of one of the many pleasures after all - toying with people's weakness before the formidable seven sins only to lead them into full submission. The Strictland government, despite propagating ‘human emotion being a disease’ had anything anyone could ever desire, and Seonghwa was one of the many agents to guarantee long term partnerships, addiction to the illusion of a better life, and most importantly, stability and security for the people who had taken him in all that time ago when no one else would, and had given him a chance.

While he was the bringer of demise, the counter of profits drenched in crushing dread and the hand of twisted and subjective justice, at the same time, Seonghwa believed that it gave him all the more right to judge the society he was a part of. After all, he was not the one being fooled. Inevitably, his glimmering orbs settled back on the singer’s gently swaying form as they broke into the chorus, and nearly shuddered as your gaze, from languid, half-lidded but oh so appealing eyes, met his, only for a split second but it was as if hellfire itself embraced him and greeted him like an old lover. Each lyric - a personal address as you moved along at a sensual pace, the song smoother than the most expensive silk. He smirked to himself as he caught his ponderings accelerating uncontrollably, attempting to squash them under a sober, calculating fist. You were no fool either. An entertainer, measuring out each attack like a venomous serpent, not threatened, seeking fun in the reveal of vulnerability of your listeners - each one believed that you existed for them and them alone, and in the hypnotic state added bill after bill to their already hefty tips in the hopes that at least some would reach you, and you would give them that beautiful smile, maybe something more. Truly, a shame that the owner of Morpheus owed the regime a lot more than all the tips, so-called donations and what, compared to the rest of the money, was "honest" earnings all combined. The Captain of the Inspectors in charge of this little project had gotten a little too nice as of late, at least that was what Seonghwa had concluded, but it was not him who was going to pay for it, naturally.

Twisting his head, Seonghwa took note of the familiar faces that appeared at the entrance to Morpheus to join the rest of the Inspectors that were posing as regular customers, cleverly dispersed among the filth that reeked of dependence. Of course, dependence on what the regime was selling. There was no other way about it. Nodding the two men a curt hello, Seonghwa let his eyes trace back a swift path to the magnificent performance. He paid attention to how your dainty earrings glinted even in the lowered light, and how, with every subtle movement, he could see the gorgeous dress tighten just a little around your body. You were so out of place in this scene, an angel in the darkest pits of hell, a little bird struggling against the wiring of a cage, curling inwards, growing smaller until the last flutter of the wings. As he was caught up in admiring your beautiful style, grace, and listening to your sweet, warm tone, one of the two newcomers, a fellow brother in governmental salvation to Seonghwa, tapped him lightly on the shoulder and occupied the seat beside him.

“As flashy as ever, Woo. Might as well tattoo ‘trouble’ on your forehead,” he motioned towards his not so inconspicuous suit that made him look more like a mafioso rather than an average joe. Seonghwa had to admit, however, that the outfit looked too damn good on him, but this was going to be just one of those things he was to take to his grave. The man did not need his ego fed any more than what the ladies he finds as company for the less busy nights not hounded by the lower ranking Guardians provide.

“I’d carve a pretty smile on that face. Not even a hello?”

“Hi San,” Seonghwa deadpanned, looking past his friend who he noted had tied his hair into a low ponytail, and right at the other half of his duo. Wooyoung and San, two peas in a pod, and probably the last people one would ever wish to see if they were in trouble with any of the Inspectors.

“Aren’t you mean today… what, pretty star over there didn’t give you attention?” Wooyoung retorted with a smirk creeping onto his lips. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shake of the head, Seonghwa dismissed any thoughts of peace that he had been imagining, settling back to regular business.

Rolling his shoulders back, he let the scene come and envelop him. It was no coincidence that so many of the Inspectors had gathered, especially with Wooyoung and San now closing in the arrivals. It did not take a genius to guess that Captain had changed his terms, and this was no longer going to be an ordinary shakeout for money or customary information gathering from the owner of Morpheus. The owner had stalled for far too long, had strayed from ‘good practices’ of a loyal rat, and it was time to set an example for others. Disease was the human emotion, and this bar was a breeding ground for thought crime, was it not?. Lowly, lonely creatures who gathered here were all examples of where society had gone astray from the perfect vision Z had put forward, at least… most were. Those who had forgotten the meaning of feeling despite having regained the ability, those, to Seonghwa, were the true vermin. He regarded the few gathered who were most definitely not meant to be part of this story. A middle aged, haggard man with flushed cheeks and what had to be his fifth glass of the cheapest liquor on the menu. Some bigshot from another town who he recalled some of the Inspectors in charge of patrolling the area identifying this morning - no ties, no money, just a lot of ambition that was to amount to nothing. A few lowlives here and there who were faceless, in shades of grey. All not meant to be here, and yet by some stroke of fate, here they were to remain. Finally, he drifted back to the main act, still at the centre of the stage, the sole luminance among the tainted - those who had no hope in making Seonghwa feel anything but numbness. You were the only one working here. Earning your meagre pay - he had discreetly checked the bar’s balance books when the old man behind the counter was too distracted to care for a person of his kind strolling into his office that was concealed in a dark corridor. It was shameful how you were still in this far less than grand establishment, sharing your angelic vocals, despite obviously not having any compensation nor appreciation of your efforts. Perhaps the moments on stage were the only time when you felt alive; the thought would not leave Seonghwa. After much investigation playing pretend, he was confident in his conclusion: you had not changed.

You were on the tattered poster plastered up outside - the one and only, shows every Friday night. Perceive and behold the spectacular ethereal being as you sang songs that spun threads out of a spectator’s very soul, blood trickling from the cracks in their shattered form turning to gold. You sang their… his pain, promised him his glory, soothed and comforted him. Seonghwa was well aware that you were the sole reason that he had shifted his visits to Morpheus to this particular day of the week and monitored the illegal location so closely, otherwise, your face would never grace his corrupt, bleak vision. You did not deserve to go with the rest. When breaking free, one was not supposed to fall into another trap, and yet, here you were. You were not meant to be here, littering the ground that you stood on as the last of the gunpowder would settle on your perfect skin, your long, alluring eyelashes. The onyx-haired man felt a shift within himself as he mused the outcome of the unspoken plans - by the way in which Wooyoung leaned back onto the counter, a grin dancing on his features and by the way San was acting particularly kindhearted to the lonely staff who was rushing about, struggling to keep up with the visitors’ habits, he knew that tonight, they were not planning on hearing any cries for mercy. They were here to complete a mission for a higher purpose. And that mission was far from the sweet music which he had loved his whole life, and finally found again.

“They’re not supposed to be here.” he mumbled, his voice obscured by yours, echoing across and elevating to a sensual culmination.

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Think of them as a sculpture or something if it makes things easier,” Wooyoung took out a rolled up bill to put between his lips - a habit that he had formed after a few too many hits on the back of his head by San, an interesting approach to make a man quit smoking. He called it ‘smoking capitalism’, earning quite a few chuckles from the Inspectors, Seonghwa included.

“So say someone’s going to scope the ring to clean it up a bit, would you let them hit our favourite auntie?” he asked, referring to the friendly cleaner who was probably the only one in the entire city who did not bat an eye at the violent matches that Wooyoung managed under the wraps for the regime, instead cooing over the fighters he brokered for and giving the men an extra helping of her home-cooked delicacies. In many ways, she was a mother figure for the Guardian Inspectors, despite her being at risk, every day, of being taken to the Red Humans should one of them be in a ‘different kind of mood’ on an arbitrary morning.

“Definitely not. But this singer. Who are they to you?”

“A pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Mhm. I can pawn them in for rewards.”

“Suppose they are pretty enough, if that’s what you’re thinking of…”

“Goodness, take the pimp out of the bordello but can’t take the bordello out of the pimp. That business was shut a while back for you, no?” with a groan, Seonghwa retaliated at Wooyoung’s rather out of pocket suggestions. Over the many years of serving Z in not so ethical ways, the man had tried on a few too many hats and seen a few too many hats to retain even a sliver of compassion towards anyone except those closest. It was understandable. Odd, but understandable.

“Kidding. But for real though, what’s the use?” Wooyoung bit down on the bill softly, gaze following San who had moved towards a couple of underlings that had gathered in a booth off to the side, towards the far corner of the bar. Clearly, he was checking if they had read the room.

“Say, isn’t it Captain’s niece’s birthday soon? We don’t exactly have a musical act to hand since…” Seonghwa trailed off, knowing that Wooyoung knew what incident he was referring to, involving an accusatory phrase, a short temper and a very professional shot from a sniper rifle from the boss’s office window into the temple of a figure that was storming away from one of the many Inspector accommodations. Another one to fertilise the soil with.

“Smart. I’ll give it to ya. If you sort the business out before showtime, pretty thing’s all yours.” Wooyoung responded, patting his side where, underneath his shirt, Seonghwa knew was a holstered pistol. Pushing himself away from the counter he stood up, adjusting his long, leather coat and glove. It was not that he had a particular preference, but ever since entering the new life upon being pardoned for feeling, a life where he had to say found a home, he could not help but wish to always look just that little bit more put together, even if only to appear loyal.

“Cheers. I’ll get them a nice candle-lit dinner to soften them up and then inform Cap’,” sounding purposefully sarcastic, Seonghwa mumbled under his nose, well aware that this was not a method that had ever been in use. One glower and curt phrase had always been enough - the rest was simply the heart’s doing masked by odd humour.

“Awh, look at you, how sweet and lovely. What a darling,” Wooyoung teased, sending Seonghwa a wink. The music was fading away, the last notes landing on his ears, marking every moment.

“One more word and you’ll be the main course.” with his index finger he poked the centre of his fellow Inspector’s chest in threat, maintaining a cold expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to be roasting out here tonight, so make it hot with pretty thing.”

“Filth,” the taller man spat, knowing that attempting to counter his friend was nearly impossible - out of all the people he knew only Captain could fully round him in, and even then Wooyoung had a smile on his face, much to Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s not me who is with the heart eyes.”

“I just saw an opportunity,” playing with the leather piece that buttoned up to protect his neck, he eyed you, waiting for you to finish. Unknown to you, you did not have much time left before your very life would be placed on a scale and thoughtlessly pushed to lose against the weight of usual Strictland business. Such was the violent, catastrophic illusion of order, such was the structure that had been Seonghwa’s twisted saving grace. He was going to be doing you a favour by taking you away, won’t he? Either way, you would be out of work, and he was helping you with a little job search from one of the highest payers - chivalrous and kind hearted, that was who he was. How else could the Inspectors form any partnerships and feast on forbidden fruit otherwise? Who was he kidding - a soul like you was not meant for a life like this. But he had to try. He needed time to think.

“Sure. Sure. An opportunity to grab the gorgeous star for yourself.”

“Oh shut up will you?” snapping, Seonghwa were desperately trying to cut the conversation short, seeing the window for him to make a beeline for the edge of the stage, towards which you promptly setting off after finishing your set, and receiving a dismal lack of applause - what else would he expect from the crowd gathered in Morpheus? Especially when the stench of iron and the final judgement was mere minutes away from materialising.

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be good. Hope you did not block my mustang,” throwing one last comment behind him, the solemn man was off, only barely catching Wooyoung’s half-hearted response.

“Have I ever…”

The mission was simple. Since he was dismissed from the less than pleasant task of wiping out the bar, considering that two more senior Inspectors had made their appearance and were clearly more in the know of what was brewing, Seonghwa had only a couple of minutes before all freedom would cease to exist. And then, no heaven could bestow mercy upon neither him, nor the beauty he had come here to save for no logical reason, instead relying on some hazy version of hope and nostalgia. He had parked his ink black ride around the block - out of sight for unwanted eyes, and perfectly positioned for getaways just like this. If you could catch the Inspector’s drift, that was. One could only pray that the dazzler on stage was just as dazzling when it came to reading between the lines. He had perhaps even less than the estimated time to explain himself before Wooyoung and San would call the owner over to get the real evening show started. Time was ticking along with the skyrocketing pace of his heart as he stopped you on your tracks with a slightly outstretched leg, only to move forward and cast a shadow over you.

It was difficult to remain level-headed when, even at such proximity, in the normally less than flattering lighting, you were nothing short of a deity. Something out of fairy tales, stories of royalty or angels in kingdoms far far away, those that were not supposed to exist. But here was one, staring right into his eyes with your beautiful expressive orbs, as deep as the history that Seonghwa had raced here to try and reignite. A universe in your irises, an all-consuming black hole in your pupils, beckoning Seonghwa, leading him into a stupor before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, bringing himself out of the momentary trance by force. Time was not on his side, and he knew that it would never be unless he kept on running.

“Lovely song, that was.”

“Indeed. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ is one of my favourites. Did you enjoy the performance?” Your speaking voice was different, of course, but nonetheless struck that stunning familiar chord within Seonghwa, one that should never see the light of day if he were to remain how he had to be. It was terrifying, how he was ready to let go of his resurrected image as an Inspector for a chance to turn the past into the present.

You were polite. The features of your alluring face were hinting at a genuine interest, an appreciation of every movement, every breath you were taking. Though, in Seonghwa’s own line of work, particularly in the stage of undercover investigation, this was simply the usual. Show a smile, bat the eyelashes, make business, disappear. Genuine interest was an artform, but even if you were indeed expressing it in the way with which he was familiar, it felt so natural that he almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe this daydream who had come to change the colours of his occasional Fridays, his hunts for those straying from what Z had deemed ‘right’, leaving glimmers of memory to last him through the weeks when he had to be numb to life itself until he could come and see you again. It did not mean much to you, most likely. You were strangers in your respective new lives, and had Captain not made the decision to teach the owner of Morpheus a lethal lesson, you would have remained that way. Drifting together for a few hours, remaining distant, and drifting apart again. A forever flowing story that was to rekindle a starcrossed ‘once upon a time’ but never have that sought after resolution. A dream that reminded Seonghwa of why his unlikely survival was a blessing. As your eyes revealed a hopefulness, a plea for praise, Seonghwa gave you a soft smile.

“Of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you, you know.”

“O-oh?” Seonghwa could barely contain his surprise, the previously cool demeanour cracking into a raised eyebrow. Could you remember?

“Yes! You always sit at the bar, second stool from the left. And order… what is it… a brandy, right?”

He would be lying if he were to say he was not surprised by your suddenly chipper attitude. Almost like you were a kid who entered a candy shop for the first time to see all of your favourite treats, you excitedly revealed to Seonghwa your observations. While it was endearing to see, the shuffling behind him, along with the idea that he was not the only one intently observing left the Inspector with a sense of unease, nearly throwing him off from the initial goal that motivated him to brave talking to you in the first place.

“In…deed?”

The singer, who was previously an astounding yet distant figure captivating all who cared to look even once, rapidly transitioned into someone who he almost found endearing, the keeper of far too many qualities that cemented the rightness of his decision. You were not meant to be here, he repeated to himself. Mutters around the bar were getting louder, and as the rest of the musicians filed out of the main hall and crammed into a tiny room off to the side, in Seonghwa’s peripherals he noted San’s steady, seemingly innocent amble between the scuffed round tables and equally unpleasantly antique chairs.

“You are the only one who listens, so, how could I not notice? Actually, I wanted to talk to you properly, or at least say thank you but didn’t want to impose.”

As much as he wanted to sink into the warmth of your words and allow you to recognise him on your own accord, the rippling commotion that was finally rearing its ugly head spurred him on and struck his heart with an icy, calculating mace. He had a minute tops, knowing Wooyoung’s love for never counting down to zero before beginning.

“Well, let’s talk. Outside,” The black-clad man tried to walk off, aiming for the dark corridor at the end of which was the fire exit, but when you did not move, rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking I could buy you a drink-”

“Cute. Another time though,” seeing the tinge of disappointment in your gaze was new, and entirely unexpected, but gave Seonghwa plenty of leeway to sway you into following him, “since you watched me enough, I bet you can guess who I am. Or, what I do for work. Right?”

A steely glare, leaving nothing open to interpretation. For additional evidence, he demonstratively adjusted his coat, loosening the belt he had tied around his waist to reveal a leather holster, discreet, gun always within reach. Attentive to detail as ever, you took note of the inconspicuous design of the pistol before he let it disappear once again under the fabric - in this city, there were few who had access to any form of weaponry, the items being so highly regulated by the government that it was nearly impossible to purchase or get licensing. Your mind began to list off options; Seonghwa clearly was neither a standard Android Guardian due to the lack of mandatory uniform, nor a scruffy criminal whom you had gotten used to over the time that had passed, nor part of the police force, nor a Class 2 Prestige Academy student. It only left an answer that shook you to the core. Of course, it was not that you did not hold the assumption in your heart. As a matter of fact, you had previously assumed that you were used to greeting people from different walks of life, all gathered in the same place, at the same time for what you wanted to believe was a ‘good time’. That was what drove you to live the life that you were living. Exist in this space, despite your pay and your security almost always not being enough, but you would give even that up if that meant you could keep your freedom.

Seonghwa was effortlessly graceful, determined in every step and gesture, not a single movement wasted. In a sense, it was as if he had purposefully learned and memorised the most efficient adjustments of the body, letting himself metamorphose into a lithe, agile animal. It was terrific, and terrifying, how at any moment he could pounce, and you would never know when until it was too late. For this hint of a reason, you decided to follow the man’s unspoken command, only whispering an airy inquiry after the other musicians, which he coldly dismissed:

“You need a better band anyways.”

---

The gravity of the situation only began to settle in when the biting breeze outside of the stuffy bar hit you, seeking opportunity to tousle your locks. The strands that had managed to fall over your face were trembling, the only sign revealing your suppressed distress as the last of Morpheus's dusk-like illumination was shut from your vision with a confident slam. Your eyes widened as you watched the Inspector, or in other words, your personal grim reaper, flip a lock on the door - previously thought to be inaccessible to anyone except the owner, done so masterfully as though he were the one who had installed it in the first place. An exit, a saving grace for innocents inside, turned into a dead end - more symbolic than one would ever initially assume. He trailed up the length of his arm stopping for a moment at the material that covered his shoulder, listening to leather hit leather. Seonghwa could only find calculated resolve within himself. This was the usual for him, and that after weighing all the options, he had logically come to the conclusion that the demise of the people inside was indeed the most attractive option.

As you heard the first shot resound inside of Morpheus, you shuddered, but did not dare stop following the man in the trench coat as he strode on ahead, hands remaining in his pockets. To any onlooker it would seem that he was relaxed as ever, out for a late night walk in a neighbourhood he knew better than he knew himself. Breath in, breath out; you were trying to remind yourself of the simple act, focusing harder than you had ever done during your performances. Imagining your diaphragm stretching, letting the lungs take in as much air as possible and-

Another shot. Breath knocked from you, balance off kilter, you desperately wanted to run. Anywhere. Maybe you should have stayed, not picked up on the subtle offer of your life being spared. In that way you would not have to live with the guilt of not having said anything to your fellow bandmates, not having said thank you to the owner for… what was there to thank anyone for? Out of habit, you lifted a hand to brush over your ear, echoes of the time when you had first felt emotion rippling across your body, making you shiver. You were all fools misled by hope for a brighter tomorrow in a world that was permanently overcast. Where did this running lead you? Where did your wistful song guide you? Back into the arms of the apocalypse - broad-shouldered with hair the colour of ink, the last thing you would see before disappearing for good. At least you should thank your former so-called colleagues for the information about the common demise. Tears welled up in your eyes as you obeyed the lean man’s orders and practically toppled into the black vehicle parked by the Morpheus, a lonesome yelp masked by the gunfire and indecipherable orders.

You had no idea where he was taking you, and you did not dare ask. The man reminded you of all you had been trained to avoid in your new life, a threat, a weapon, a soldier. His gloved right hand remained resting beside the gearshift, while his left coldly gripped the steering wheel. Not a single one of his muscles appeared to be relaxed, and not a single movement had a semblance to anything natural. An automaton in the driver’s seat, you wanted to feel comforted by the idea that you were the only one truly human in the car, for the idea that someone as brutal as a Guardian Inspector could be conscious or decisive was too strong of an agony.

At the same time, in the moments where the Inspector turned his head to check the surroundings, you noted something familiar. He dashed past the blue, purple and aquamarine signs that lined the streets of the district you had learned to love, himself turning into a painting. Be it in the angles that formulated his stern face, or in the elegance that he was unable to conceal, the past crawled out of a long-forgotten cavern in your psyche and gnawed at your nerves, just out of reach of realisation. Perhaps in another time, you had known him. Perhaps in one of the banned art pieces, you had seen him. At the same time, this could not be the first Guardian Inspector you had encountered - they were all similar enough in demeanour, so what was another face? Equally as entitled, above the law. Above a runaway like you. You were vermin. The enemy. A traitor to the Academy, to Strictland, to Z himself. Or so you were told. The only thing that could be different about this Inspector, was that he could be your last.

A sharp stabbing sensation spread from your temples and what had to be through your skull, jabbing into bone and into the cerebellum. Nauseous, you shut your eyes and clutched your head in a futile attempt to seek some form of relief. The car roared, and a sudden stench of rubber and concrete penetrated through every crevice, choking your senses and making you taste the acrid pollution. One turn, another, your organs were being jolted back and forth as the monstrous engine urged on by none other than the embodiment of oblivion dragged the car across eternal misery of long-abandoned districts.

“Oh goodness…” a feeble whisper left your lips. You reached out to grab hold of the door handle, peering at the grooves to find at least something to focus on. His vision was swimming in your eyes, etchings of your surroundings morphing into repressed memories.

A boy marching beside you to class, head held at the angle commanded to all academy students. A young man, dressed in all white with black locks parted in the middle. A solemn stare, unreadable, though not fully blank as it should be. But at the same time, how could you, another student of Prestige, detect that something was not quite right? Since when could you feel? You lifted your head cautiously to try peeking at the Inspector again, but he was frozen. Only the abrupt tightening of his gloved hand around the steering wheel and a determined turn reminded you that he was not quite an automaton.

“I must be dreaming…” you blinked away a teary blur, and clenched onto your dress for the remainder of the journey, feverishly recounting whatever lyrics you could. Your little safe haven, your precious prayers to the arts - truth which you had discovered after abandoning everything you could have been.

Your hand moved on instinct to the side of your head, feeling for what once had been the hub of your consciousness. A chip that made you feel right at home, heartless, but with a purpose. Forty years of education, an eternity to serve something greater than you; clear goals, a mission for your generation and many that would come after you. Hand in hand, you were soldiers of a catastrophically closed-minded society; at the time, however, you could not be ‘happier’. Or rather, more numb. Because you did not know of negative nor positive, you could not experience either, and so remained in a stable equilibrium, just as the superpower of this forlorn land had instructed. Disease was the human emotion. You were ‘healthy’. Until that boy appeared in your life, and revealed himself to you.

Bright-eyed, hopeful, excited. So unlike anyone. And against better judgement, you let the inklings of curiosity drip over your heart, and the beginnings of affection take flight. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a smile brighter than the sun, a soothing mellifluous voice, vowing to you that you could build another life together. A life much more beautiful than one constructed with deception and hollow propaganda. What could a little tap of a breaker do to you? Apparently, it could change your destiny.

As you massaged your temples, you locked gazes with the man in front of you, but met the boy from your past in the mirror. That same worry, knotted eyebrows, concern and care so evident you could touch it if your fingers grazed his cheek. You could not move, even when he turned back to the road, and continued to stare at the rear view mirror in the hopes of seeing your daydream again. You had to be wrong. This had to be you hallucinating. You must be just… afraid. Out of your mind. And so you were recalling one of the few times when you thought the world could do you no harm.

“Get out,” a command. As cold as steel. The engine was still roaring in your ears, despite the surroundings having gone dead silent.

A click. The doors unlocked. You could run if you wanted to. Though you were fully aware that the action would shorten your lifespan to a mere few seconds. You remained seated, gaze falling onto your lap, and listened to the painful succession of sounds that led the man to open your door, and roughly grab your upper arm.

“I said, get out,” you followed him like a rag doll, knowing that any attempts to resist would put you into even more danger. At the same time, even though the Inspector was obviously attempting to instil terror and a twisted respect for him, he could not face you. Consciously he made an effort to barely raise his lashes, thus keeping his scrutiny concealed. Reading through his hesitation was easy enough.

He could not keep his hand on you for a second longer after you stood up straight, darting away as though you were an open flame. The man cleared his throat and locked the car, before gesturing towards an abandoned building that loomed over the gravelly opening where you had completed your journey. Comically, it reminded you of Prestige, even though the latter was of much larger proportions and possessed a more unique shape. Perhaps it was the fact that this block, what used to be an apartment building, was crumbling, made you think of the academy’s inner workings. Rotting away. The cogs in the machine tearing each other apart.

This might be your end or your beginning, you were not sure which one. With an astounding loyalty, you let yourself be guided into the long-forgotten cement fortress, up exposed stairs with metal railings, past walls left bare, illuminated by an exposed moonlight, laying down a carpet of silver. It was oddly easy to think that life was beautiful when it was likely going to be taken away from you. The walk was silent, and the longer it lasted, the more at peace you felt. The odd step rang out and echoed like the gunshots you had heard, so surreal that you could barely believe it. It must have been a joke. Fireworks, or someone just being a little boisterous. Morpheus had seen so many colours of Z’s regime, it could not disappear now… oh who were you kidding. It was done for. You little version of an escape. Your space to feel.

As you made sneaky glances at the Inspector to your right, who not so ceremoniously had loosened his coat’s belt once more to have easy access to his gun, you could not help but think of the boy. You had followed his advice, made a run for it while he had been taken away by the Red Humans. Two youngsters who betrayed the regime. But who was truly free? The one who had been exterminated, or the one who had to live in fear, but at least felt the ruthless emotion?

The enigmatic man slowed down, and so did you. He made a turn, so did you, acting as his shadow. You were certain that you were probably breathing at the same rate. An empty hallway, lined with equally empty rooms and destroyed apartments. From a humble abode to rubble, you could see the horrific vistas of the district, and the drop to the cold ground below. No wall, no security, no certainty. It was only you and your fate in the form of a man who seemed to possess too much of a likeness to the keeper of your fragile adoration.

The Inspector walked in front and turned to face you. You froze, burning under his scrutiny. Eyes like scalding cold ice, assessing you, condemning you. Your best listener, now listening to your terrified heart. For what could be the last time, you felt alive. As the man reached into his pocket, you prepared for the worst, however, he only motioned with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you obeyed, finding yourself in a more secluded corner of the floor, one which had remotely retained the appearance of an actual room. Stuck in the same few seconds, there were no further commands from the Inspector, causing your mind to wander, and lips to move on their own accord:

“I should not be here.”

“Neither should I,” he deadpanned, though his choice of words was unsettling. Wasn’t he on a mission?

“I should be dead,” you persisted.

“I should have more blood on my hands.”

A pause. You were in shock, pointlessly clinging onto your own upper arms, stuck in a false embrace. Like prey that had been cornered, you were beyond the point of trusting survival instincts. You simply wanted for the interaction, or dare you say, interrogation, to be over, so you could be given away to the Red Humans, to whatever the afterlife had to offer, in peace. If you were to be melted, then so be it. If your departure were to be short and sweet, so be it. But a little question in your head still remained, a persistent worm which you decided to unleash given your hopeless circumstances:

“Then why-”

“It is pointless to ask when there is no answer,” the man answered coldly, not sparing you a glance as he picked at a filthy off-white tulle which covered a blown out window - now just a frame, with his gloved hand, glaring at the pitiful greyness outside the abandoned building before wiping the hand off with a handkerchief produced out of the pocket into which he had stuffed his hand.

A few steps separated you, but you knew better than to try and make a run for it – the man was armed, and you assumed that the gun you spotted was not the only weapon in his arsenal. He was menacing, unpredictable, and very dangerous. Alongside that, as much as you hated to admit, but the Inspectors were nothing short of extraordinary when it came to their expertise and training. Unlike Android Guardians, they were the leading forces, capable of high-risk decision making and unparalleled critical thinking. If you were to try to describe them, you always ended up thinking of chess. That was what they were playing whenever they were out in the field.

In fact, it was for this exact reason that you were concerned about this Inspector’s behaviour – it was out of line. Inefficient. Sub-optimal. You wondered if this was a new strategy or there was a higher plan; there were so many possibilities that your head could start spinning. You dug your fingers into rapidly cooling flesh, waking yourself up from the distressed rumination. What was the Inspector going to do to you? You had followed his demands so far, and weren’t putting up a fight - what more could he want?

He was unreadable. Gestures unpredictable, expression stoic, he regarded you with an air of superiority characteristic of people from his class. Serpent-like and calculating eyes, regal nose, facial structure reminiscent of a statue, plush perfectly shaped lips – all were a nod to his upbringing, you bet. He did not feel real. Reminiscent of automatons that the regime sometimes used in place of regular Guardians during high-volume riots, he was what one would call the ‘ideal specimen’. Down to the strand of wavy hair that fell on his face, he was a beautiful painting of your worst nightmare. Life had been unkind to you, you decided. It only showed you something prettier than the night lights when it was the last thing you would see.

The man stepped towards you, and your eyelids slammed shut automatically. You did not wish to see your death. The sound of leather against leather, the tied coat belt, the creaking of ancient rotten wood planks under lacquered ankle boots. He must be getting ready to end you. Were you too high profile to be lying with the other bodies in the club? Were you more dangerous in the Inspector’s view, being a singer, or as one could say a ‘spreader’ of inappropriate entertainment. Was this treason? Terrorism? You were not sure – the sentence changed more than the weather. But were you an enemy? With confidence, you had to answer with a Yes. Having escaped the regime, and according to those who had helped you regain some parts of your past self, having had a part in the uprising within Prestige Academy, you were the worst kind of citizen of Strictland. Disobedient, unchanging, and influential. You were waiting for the cocking of a pistol, for cool metal to hit your head, and for the world to go even darker as you collapsed on to the floorboards. The man had to be taking out his gun. He must have taken you away from the raid to be particularly ruthless. A sadist? Maybe. You had no time to judge.

You felt the fabric of your shimmering dress under your fingertips, and imagined you were preparing for a show of a lifetime. You counted your inhales and exhales like you would do before a performance, and conjured an audience in your mind. More rustling, another step. He, that boy, no, young man, was in the audience. Still in the Prestige Academy uniform, but the chip was long gone. He was giving you an encouraging smile eager to hear what you had achieved in your time away from the academy. Leather caressed your hand and you flinched, comforted only by how cautious the action was. Hand turned to raise your palm to the omniscient skies, your illusions combined with reality - what was Seonghwa to give to you?

Funny, how in critical moments, the mind could give you what you had longed to forget. Seonghwa. His name tasted sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. A fine wine, dizzying, addictive. A handsome, talented student who had the future ahead of him, only to throw it away for the taste of something more ‘real’ in his eyes. Something cold was being pressed into your palm, reminiscent of a large bullet or a device your fingers could remember before your mind. Your eyes shot open and were met with a dream and a nightmare. Finally, it hit you. Behind the Inspector’s facade, a mask crafted by years of experience and brutality, was the same boy, who, just like now, pressed a breaker into your palm.

“Wake up.”

Your gaze fell to the intricate metal handiwork, spotting the carving of an ‘A’ contained in a circle right at the base. The taste of anarchy, an uprising, revolution, a hope for something better flowing through a tragic story you two had written. At last, it had a resolution, and you were more than content with who was holding the lethal pen. You stared at the breaker. The very thing that brought you out of an eternal somnolence, submission to a regime. You had woken up then, and never could sleep.

“Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer… the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…” you lifted your head once more, staring into Seonghwa’s softened eyes. He had matured, his features having become siren-like, dangerous, seductive. Befitting his character. You smiled sadly, “...or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing end them?” He remained quiet, as if he was the one waiting for you to decide your own destiny, “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Ever read it? Or do they not let you?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, concealing a pang of nervousness, “I am familiar with his work.”

“Mm, isn’t that a criminal offence?”

“What is?”

“Reading work exploring human emotion… sounds like treason to me.”

“Reading does not imply sympathising.”

“But you do.”

Again, a heavy pause. Seonghwa rocked from one foot to another one time, another - an old habit? Or an attempt to convince you that he was at least a fraction the same?

“I… I do not,” before you could scowl, he continued, “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once’. I am more partial to this way of thinking.”

“Ah, the irony of it all.”

Your hand formed a fist around the device, and you kept on searching for fragments of the man you loved inside of the new Seonghwa before you. In flashes, you spotted glimmers of gold, feeble hints for something that could be concealed in the depths of his soul.

“So, are you going to make me a valiant person?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be doing?” feeling a little more brave, you taunted him, wishing to see what his limit was. Whether he was lying to you just to set you at ease and make his job easier. So he could see one final sense of betrayal in your pupils.

“We are already dead, Y/N.”

---

Music. A universal language. The biggest risk for a community that someone wanted to silence. So you hummed one song after another, head leaning against Seonghwa’s shoulder as you sat on the concrete floor, in the corner of the room that was barely holding itself together. Bathed in silver light, you shared with him the luxury of reminiscing, mourned what had been lost only to have the feeling be replaced by a budding desire to wish upon anything at all.

Seonghwa might have lied to many of the Inspectors, and was in danger of facing a fate worse than extermination, but at least he did not lie to you. And because he did not lie to you, you were here; you were real. He could have the pleasure of having you beside him, wrapped up in his leather coat; your dress was not exactly ‘inhospitable conditions’ material, as pretty and befitting as it was. You were refusing to let go of the breaker as though it was the tether to a more sunny past, not that Seonghwa would ever dare pry it out of your hands. So long as you could keep singing for him forever. Even when music were to cease existing, and when the sky would fall down, he would still hear your voice. How many times had he visited Morpheus in secret, outside of his official inspections and scouting missions? How quickly had he transferred into a field role just for the chance to find you? How had he managed to remain alive even though his sentence had been supposedly set in stone, and he was still feeling? With each question, the answer grew blurrier and blurrier, until it no longer existed. Perhaps this was a manifestation of destiny. You were supposed to meet again after so much turmoil, so you did. Curious.

“What song do you like?” your voice, sleepy, serene, cut through his ruminations. Seonghwa looked down and to his side, meeting a gentle gaze.

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Mm, no that’s not an answer,” you snaked your hands around his arm and pulled him closer.

“But I like everything you sing. Because you sing it.”

“Sweet, but I’m at a loss.”

“Then let’s be quiet. Together. For as long as we can.”

“There’s not too long left, is there?”

Your question was rhetorical. Both you and Seonghwa were aware of it. Time in Strictland was not governed by the individual but by an unforgiving system. A person, or perhaps a symbol, holding the clock with an iron grip and making the hands fly faster and faster until a second was an impossible measure. Involuntarily, he sighed, causing wisps of steam to escape his lips and rise to the exposed armature of the floor above. With cooling temperatures came the cooling heart, and it was difficult to tell what it was that you loved. What was it that made you feel alive?

“You know, they gave me a choice,” Seonghwa began. There was no reason why he should be telling you about what had happened to him, but the sombre atmosphere seemed to bode well for a confession. You did not interrupt, choosing to remain passive, resigned, “either die for what I believe in, or admit I was wrong.”

“Funny how they gave you a choice,” the infamous ‘they’. The Guardians, the regime, the enemy. Now turned into a friend. Interesting how life changed.

“Definitely was not what I expected.”

“You sure they didn’t say ‘sike’ at any point and you just got lucky?”

“I don’t think they can miss,” a simple, but sharp fact. You bit your lower lip, “...anyways. You can probably guess what I chose to do. The only caveat is that I admitted I was wrong… for a different thing.”

“Do tell.”

“I was wrong for putting you in danger, Y/N.”

“Nothing we could do about that. We were two fools in love.”

Seonghwa detangled himself from you, only to grasp your free hand in his, place the other on your thigh and meet you face to face. Misty-eyed, his rationality was growing frantic, and you knew that at any moment he could snap, and only the clearing night knew what would happen then.

“But I was the one to jolt you out of a peaceful existence. I was selfish-” After years of doubting himself, sinking into a destructive illusion where he would march alongside others like a machine, he was breathing. Much to his regret, it was a sensation far too sweet and heavenly, worth every revolution and rebellion.

“I don’t regret it.”

“...What?”

“I would put this thing to my head time and time again if I had to,” you raised the breaker to eye level, attempting to get at least a smile or a chuckle out of Seonghwa. Much to your dismay, it did the opposite. You would be lying if you were to proclaim you were euphoric.

“I- I’m… Y/N I’m so sorry…” you shook your head and pulled him in, until his exhales and inhales were tickling your neck. Hunched over you like a black-clad shield, Seonghwa was unmoving. Eyes darting down, you spotted that he had taken the pistol out of the holster, and upon a second glance to where he had been sitting, you noted its lonely presence, tucked away with debris and gravel.

“You are alive. And clearly still care enough to remember me. That’s your apology. And your punishment,” in a soothing gesture, you ran your fingers through his hair, cautiously at first, then turning your ministrations continuous, measured out when Seonghwa sat back down on the concrete, only this time nuzzled into you.

“Sorry…” he forced out, choking up.

The moon counted down the time while lazily passing over the building. You were at a crossroads. In haste, Seonghwa had told you of the opportunity to serve the Guardian Inspectors, being a private entertainer of sorts, but he knew you would refuse. Fast. Becoming one’s own enemy was the one thing you would not follow Seonghwa into doing. And that is why he admired you. You were strong. You were truly alive. A bird soaring in the skies in spite of the risks of being hunted, being shot. Simply for the feeling of the wind under your wings, to be closer to the stars and to sing your song loud and clear, every note a celestial blessing.

“Blue bird…”

“Hm?”

“I think I have an idea… if you are willing to go into hiding, that is.”

“Planning uprisings are we?”

“Oh they’ve been long in the works, my love. It is part of my job to close my eyes when necessary, and when convenient.”

“Are you about to be wrong again?”

“Maybe. Or very, very right. Depends on how the song sounds to you.”

---

Walking down the corridors of the headquarters, hands behind his back and appearance pristine, Seonghwa was nothing short of a model Inspector. Low ranking employees cowered before him and bowed, while his immediate colleague Wooyoung smirked, attempting to hook any information out.

“So… where'd the pretty star go?”

Silently, Seonghwa handed him a slip recording the disposal of an ‘unnamed entity’.

“ Oh… well that’s harsh. What did they do, reject you?”

“Apparently once gone so far astray, one cannot be changed. I had to do what was best for the regime.”

“Such an example for others. Wow. Almost too good to be true, Park. Well, I’ll be reporting that the extermination and cleanup of Morpheus was successful.”

“You do that.”

While Wooyoung turned the corner, Seonghwa continued to walk straight down the metal corridor, eyes locked onto the very end. Morpheus was no longer, indeed. But your song was still ringing in his ears, and no doubt, there would be a time when it would resound over the many speakers planted all across Strictland.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on

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heyiwrotesomethings · 4 months ago

Text

Metamorphosis

Shinobu Kochou x Trans She/Her Reader

A/N: Sorry for the insane wait! I’m gonna take a nap now! Hopefully the typos aren’t horrible. Warning: Misgendering both intentional and not, gender dysphoria, coming out, brief discussion of potential surgery and use of medication. If there is more I should mention, please let me know. Thank you for reading! Word Count: 5,518

Shinobu was a very busy woman, countless slayers passed through her doors, many of which she wouldn’t even see during their visit, taken care of by one of the other residents while she was on missions or furthering her research.

However, there were times when her intervention was crucial, or she simply took an interest in those who happened to cross her path and give a little more of her time and consideration where she could. Case and point, Tanjiro and company, but without the rambunctious quartet chasing each other around the mansion at this early morning hour, her attention was caught by another.

The slayer waiting for assistance in her infirmary today appeared perfectly healthy, though maybe a bit nervous and sleep deprived if the bags under each eye were anything to go by. Being nervous was common enough amongst patients, even if they were only there for a run-of-the-mill check-up. However, those check-ups usually weren’t at five in the morning. Shinobu could have left it to one of the other girls or a Kakushi to handle, but something told her to take on this patient herself.

“My, you’re here early, good morning!” She spoke pleasantly as she began her approach, startling the patient out of their thoughts. Shinobu noted that he seemed to become more agitated and on edge.

“Good morning, Kochou-sama.” The slayer spoke softly, then gave Shinobu an abrupt bow, his long ponytail nearly cracking like a whip from the force.

Shinobu hummed in amusement and took a seat beside the cot her patient had chosen as a tentative perch while waiting for assistance.

“Well, I will say you look perfectly healthy from where I’m sitting. If you’re here for a physical or something minor, we usually ask that you make an appointment, but as you can see it’s one of those rare, quiet mornings so I’ll let it slide just this once, okay?” She informed, throwing in a playful wink for good measure.

The patient seemed conflicted, and to Shinobu it seemed that he had something he really wanted to say, but he managed to swallow it down for better or for worse, looking down at his tightly clasped hands.

“I’m sorry, I should have thought about that.”

“No harm done.” Shinobu assured, gesturing with her hand towards her office, thinking a more private space would be appreciated, “Come along and we’ll see how everything is going, alright?”

The patient seemed to hesitate again, but eventually replied with a hoarse, “Alright.”

Shinobu led the slayer to her office and motioned for them to sit as she closed the door behind them. She then began to carry out the standard exam. She pulled out the slayer’s medical history file, saying the name aloud to make sure she had the right one. The patient seemed to tense, but nodded stiffly in confirmation. Shinobu had chalked it up to more nerves and continued on with the exam.

Well, as much as she could since he was stubbornly insistent on keeping his shirt on, but Shinobu worked around it. It was actually a bit refreshing considering most men that walked through her doors couldn’t wait to show off. Once she checked over all she could, Shinobu sat back in her seat.

“Well, Ln-san, everything here checks out. Nothing to worry about, you’re a perfectly healthy young man, congratulations.” Shinobu lightly joked and smiled reassuringly and put in a few finishing notes on the record. “You’re free to go.”

“O-kay.”

Shinobu’s pen froze mid-stroke upon hearing how the slayer’s voice cracked, she glanced up with a slightly startled look upon her face. Her patient seemed to be breathing heavier, his eyes shined with a wet film of held back tears, causing Shinobu to sit up straighter in her chair, more alert.

“Oh dear, is something the matter?” She asked innocently, unaware of just how heavy the answer to that question would be.

The slayer’s bottom lip trembled as he tried to put on a brave face. Shinobu noted how his shoulders shook, the inhales of air when he tried to speak were noisy and abrupt. Shinobu kept calm and attempted to coax him.

“I don’t know what to do, Kochou-sama…”

“About what?” She asked gently.

A sort of watery, abrupt guffaw left the slayer’s mouth, a shake of the head and a frustrated toss of the hands.

“See, I couldn’t sleep for months because it was all I could think about… I thought about what I would do and how to explain… but now that I’m here… I- it’s all slipped my mind! It’s been slowly eating away at me for years, and now that I’m finally trying to say it out loud to someone, I can’t do it!”

“For simply slipping your mind, you sure seem to be intimately aware of your troubles. You’re just dancing around the issue for whatever reason that may be, but not quite saying it.” Shinobu leaned forward in her chair. “As insurmountable as it may seem to you, I cannot help if I don’t know what is keeping you up at night. You need to take that step yourself. The words don’t have to be perfectly articulate from the get go. You can always refine it once you get something out.”

The slayer continued to be conflicted, earning a sigh and a firm stare from Shinobu. She could clearly see this was a sensitive issue, but she truly could not sit here all day even if she wanted to. She could send the slayer Aoi’s way and maybe check on the situation later, but for now…

“I apologize for rushing you, but I do have other engagements—“

“I’m a woman!” They blurted hastily, hands tightly pressed together.

“…O-Oh!” Shinobu blinked in surprise, then reached for the slayer’s file again. “I’m sorry… whoever drafted your papers must have made an error.”

“Yes! Well, no, but yes. Um, it was ‘right’, given how I was born, but as I got a little older and thought about it more, the more it felt like it didn’t fit.” The slayer swallowed thickly, “I’ve been raised male, but that never felt quite right and… I know what I want now, what feels right and, and makes me feel like I can breathe and makes everything feel a little less suffocating. I just… there are some things about my body and how people perceive me that make me uncomfortable on the good days and like I could just about die on the bad days and I don’t really know how to do anything about it and I need help, please.”

Now that the slayer had divulged her plight to Shinobu, the slayer felt a strange weightlessness, but also like she might throw up from the stress and uncertainty of how Shinobu would process this information. They were practically strangers, she was taking a huge risk confiding in her.

Shinobu wasn’t going to let that look of dread quickly growing in the slayer’s eyes continue, she laid the file flat on her desk and dipped a pen in ink. After pushing her sleeve up, she smudged out the gender and swiftly replaced it. The slayer focused on the motion, lips parting in surprise. Shinobu smiled reassuringly, tapping the paper.

“Anything else that needs to be edited?” Shinobu inquired warmly, “It looks a little messy now, but once the proper corrections are made, a new one can be drafted.”

The tears that had weld up in the slayer’s eyes for a myriad of reasons in the past twenty-four hours finally bubbled past the dam and streamed down her face. She hurriedly tried to wipe them away.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright, take your time.” Shinobu offered a handkerchief that was graciously accepted. After a minute, she pulled herself together, still a little weepy, but able to better communicate her wishes.

“M-my name. Could you change that too?” She asked, hopefully.

“Easily.” Shinobu affirmed. “Do you already have something in mind already? If not, I’m sure I could come up with something good.” Shinobu’s mind was already turning through a list of possibilities, even recycling some of the unjustly rejected names she had chosen when they had taken Kanao in.

Unfortunately for Shinobu, but fortunately for the slayer, she had already thought about this extensively and had a name at the ready.

“Yn.” She had answered, Yn had said the name to herself before, whispered it under her breath some late nights when she could not sleep, along with others that stood out to her, finding this particular name to be her favorite. Saying it aloud to someone else, someone she hoped would continue to be as accepting as she seemed to be right now, it felt even better.

Shinobu hummed and nodded, striking out the discarded name and putting the proper one in its place.

“And so it shall be.”

***

Yn was nervous, so so so nervous, but also excited. After having her latest late night crisis that had brought her to the steps of the Butterfly Mansion a week ago, she was coming back with a proper appointment. Shinobu had told her she would need to do some research on the science-y end of things, which had surprised Yn a bit.

She didn’t really know what to expect when getting Shinobu involved, but knowing she was packing extra specialized research into her already busy schedule just for Yn really blew her away. She couldn’t have been more grateful, which was why she was bringing a basket of treats as a thank you.

She wasn’t really sure what Shinobu liked… so she made a little bit of everything. Worst came to worst, at least the other residents might enjoy it. Though she really hoped Shinobu would like at least one thing she baked to make sure the extra hours she spent late last night were not used in vein. Not that she would have been able to sleep anyway.

She weaved her way through the garden and left her shoes at the entrance, making her way through the winding halls until she made it back to Shinobu’s office. After a couple of deep breaths, she knocked on the door before she could lose her nerve.

“Come in.”

“Pardon the intrusion.” Yn slid the door open and took pause upon seeing the amount of books spread around the office. There had been plenty of books before, but they were all neatly tucked away in their proper shelves. Now the quantity had appeared to noticeably increase and was liberally spread across almost every surface.

Shinobu was in between two precarious stacks at her desk, hair a bit mussed and a somewhat irradiated look in her eyes as she skimmed the page she was hunched over. She didn’t look extremely disheveled at all, but from what Yn knew of Shinobu’s reputation, appearing even a little out of sorts seemed unusual.

Something about it was highly attractive though.

Yn shook her head of the thought and gently knocked on the doorframe to remind Shinobu of her presence because even though she had invited Yn in, she had yet to look up.

“Aoi, I expressed…“ Shinobu’s gaze flickered upward and she seemed to freeze momentarily before she tried to side-eye the clock she kept on her desk. Tried to, because it was somewhere behind a wall of books.

“Oh!” She cleared her throat and stood from her desk. “My, is it that time already? I was just getting ready for you. Pardon the mess.”

It was pretty clear to Yn, that Shinobu had not at all been ready to receive her, but it was unnecessarily cute by how much Shinobu was trying to downplay just how caught off guard she was.

“It’s no problem. I uh, I like to read too.” Yn twirled the basket in her hands as Shinobu started slinging books back into their proper place in the shelves. “…Can I help?”

“Don’t trouble yourself, have a seat and I’ll be with you shortly…” Shinobu inhaled, smelling a sugary scent that reminded her she had neglected to eat breakfast, and lunch for that matter. She shoved a couple more books into place, the sound overtaking the sudden grumble of her stomach. She glanced curiously at the basket on Yn’s lap. “What do you have there?”

“I made some things as a thank you.” Yn looked down at her basket, her cheeks feeling a bit warm. “I don’t know what you like, but I wanted to bring something.”

Shinobu strode back, glancing over Yn’s shoulder into the basket. She blinked in surprise.

“You made all of this? For me?”

“Yes, please take it.” She offered Shinobu the basket. “If you aren’t a fan, please share them with the girls. I’d ask if you could please tell me your preferences so I can try to thank you again properly.”

Shinobu was so hungry at this point, she would eat a slice of stale bread if it was available, but this basket of treats was nothing less than immaculate. She graciously accepted.

“No, this is a lovely gift, thank you.” Shinobu said, graciously. “I can’t say I feel like I deserve such an opulent assortment just yet, but I will give you my best.” Her stomach reminded her of its existence yet again. “Would you find it terribly rude of me to indulge as we speak?”

“Absolutely not, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Shinobu eased herself into her chair and retrieved a sweet bread roll that was calling her name. “Please help yourself as well if you’d like.”

“That’s alright, I’ve had my fair share.” Yn laughed, sheepishly.

Shinobu bit into the roll and felt better the instant she swallowed the first bite. She really needed that. On the second bite, she actually took the time to taste and she mourned the quick departure of the first.

“This is very good, Ln-san.” She praised. “You are really quite skilled.”

Yn felt a weight lift off of her shoulders, so much so she might float away from the praise. “Thank you so much! I’m so glad you like it!”

Shinobu finished the roll in a couple more bites and resisted the urge to pick through the basket for something else to sample. There were important matters to attend to after all and she had already been more frazzled than she would have ever liked to be in polite company.

She still had a couple books of her desk, certain pages book marked and ready to be referenced. Aggravatingly brief and scarce pages, to be precise. Better than absolutely nothing, she supposed.

“Let’s get the ball rolling then, shall we?”

Yn felt the nerves and excitement bubble within her once more. She couldn’t believe she was actually here, talking to someone. Not just someone, but a person who had the means and know-how to… to do what exactly, Yn wasn’t sure, but she was ready to hear her options.

“Alright,” Shinobu exhales, “what you’ve disclosed to me, it’s not unheard of. Unfortunately, my collection is lacking on in depth information. I do apologize for that, but I am getting my hands on a few works dedicated to the topic, it’ll just take some time for them to arrive.”

“It’s already beyond my expectations that I’m talking to anyone about this at all. I really can’t thank you enough for going through all this trouble for me.” Yn tried to put as much gratitude into her voice as she could.

“You’ve done more than enough thanking for one day and probably for the duration of however long it takes you to get to a more comfortable place in your presentation.” Shinobu assured with a kind smile, sliding a book over to Yn. “Let’s see what we know so far…”

***

So far so good… Yn couldn’t complain, she just wished she could feel a difference with the little pills she had each morning. Shinobu said they could possibly up the dosages later, but she wanted to start small and monitor for any negative side effects.

Her other option, though a quicker result, would be a highly experimental surgical procedure. Just listening to Shinobu explain how she might accomplish such a thing made Yn feel more than a little faint. Shinobu assured she would study the logistics of such a procedure before attempting it herself, but Yn wasn’t in a hurry to go under the knife so she could live with her little cocktail of estrogen pills and testosterone blockers that Shinobu and Aoi cobbled together.

Okay, that was unfair choice of words, Shinobu had worked tirelessly researching hormones and how to stimulate and stagnate them. It only took her about two months before she had something she was confident enough in to prescribe to Yn and she couldn’t have been more grateful, truly, again, she just really wished she could notice even the slightest change.

She sighed and put the pill bottle down, noticing a very light clinking sound as she did so. Curiously, she picks up another one of the bottles and gives it a little shake. She would have to get those refilled…

A warmth buzzed in her chest, an excuse to go back to the Butterfly Estate! Shinobu had said she could stop by anytime… but it never felt right to invite herself over, especially when Shinobu was always so busy. There wasn’t a guarantee that she would even be there at all.

However, her medication running low was the perfect excuse to test her luck and find out if Shinobu was around. If nothing else, it was always nice to see the others and seeing the younger ones smile when she came bearing treats was always a delight. So, she packed up some dango she had made yesterday and set off.

She was greeted as soon as she made it to the gates, Sumi, Kiyo and Naho running over from the garden. They tried not to look too hopeful about the contents of Yn’s bag, but Yn could plainly see how eager they were for a treat and she was happy to oblige.

“You’re going to spoil them, you know.” Aoi said, coming out of the mansion with a basket of laundry. She set the basket down and brushed her hands down her front. “We were wondering when you might make an appearance. Shinobu-sama was getting antsy, you shouldn’t wait until you’re down to the wire on your medication before coming in for a refill. You never know what might come up.”

“Sorry,” Yn rubbed the back of her neck, “I didn’t think about that.”

Aoi sighed and shook her head. “No harm done. Come with me and I’ll refill your prescription. After that, Shinobu-sama will want to check you over. It’s a little unfortunate that she’s in the middle of entertaining right now.”

“Entertaining?”

Before Aoi could elaborate, Shinobu happened to turn the corner, chatting with the Love Hashira beside her. Shinobu looked up and smiled warmly, making Yn’s heart flutter.

“Hello there, Ln-san, I was starting to worry about you.” Shinobu scolded jokingly.

“I’m sorry, Kochou-sama, I didn’t realize I was being missed.” Yn smiled sheepishly.

“Shinobu-chan!” Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, tugged on Shinobu’s haori, “Introduce me, will you? Who is this? A friend?”

“Yes,” Shinobu held out a hand in Yn’s direction, “This is Ln Yn, she’s also a patient of mine.”

Shinobu was sure Mitsuri would be endlessly supportive and kind as always if she had explained the situation, but it wasn’t her place to do so, it was Yn’s, if she saw fit.

“Oh!” Mitsuri pressed forward, hands clasped in front of her chest. So close that Yn instinctively took a step back from the sudden proximity. “You aren’t terribly sick, are you? That would be just awful! You know what always makes me feel better when I’m sick? Soup! Soup and dumplings and roasted vegetables and fish and—“

“Kanroji-san,” Shinobu put a hand on her back, “Ln-san will be just fine. It’s mostly just consultation.”

“Ah—“ Mitsuri blushed, a couple beads of sweat gathering oil on her brow, “That’s… that’s good! Very good!” She clapped her hands on Yn’s shoulders, making the other slayers almost wince at the overuse of force. “Stay healthy, Ln-san!”

“I- I will do my best, Kanroji-sama.” Yn promised, rubbing one of her poor shoulders.

“Mm! Mm!” Mitsuri nodded, her arms crossed. She opened her mouth to speak again, but instead a low rumble was heard from her stomach, renewing the intensity of her blush. “Ah! So embarrassing!”

“We were about to make lunch.” Shinobu shared, “You should join us.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“The more the merrier!” Mitsuri insisted. “Aoi-chan, you too!”

“I already ate.” Aoi refused, but then gave Yn the side-eye, “I wouldn’t mind a bit of dessert before it’s gone, however.”

“Oh! Yes, here you go, Aoi-san. Here is Kanao-san’s share too.” Yn presented Aoi with a few wrapped dango.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure she gets it.”

Yn felt an intense stare as Aoi walked away and slowly turned her head to see Mitsuri staring at her with big, hopeful eyes. Not very unlike how Kiyo, Sumi and Naho looked at her upon her arrival, actually.

“Is that… dango? It smells so good.” Mitsuri sighed wistfully.

“You can have some too if you want, I made a lot.” Yn offered, the sweetheart that she was.

“You made it yourself? Homemade is always the best!” Mitsuri danced foot to foot, “I can have some? Really?”

“Of course—“

Yn found herself in a crushing embrace, a few of her lumbar vertebrae made a dull cracking sound.

“That’s so nice! Thank you!”

“Kanroji-san, Ln-san isn’t used to your hugs be careful with her.” Shinobu gently reminded.

Mitsuri drew back, concerned and sheepish, “Sorry…”

“I’m okay.” Yn wheezed, handing a couple wrapped dango over to Mitsuri. “Here you go.”

Mitsuri exclaimed in excitement, accepting the offering. “Thank you!” She eagerly dug in, humming happily,

“You saved enough for me too, right, Ln-san?” Shinobu creeped up beside her, a sly smile on her face, “I would feel so left out if everyone got to enjoy a treat besides myself…”

“I have more!” Yn assured, a bit too panicked, making Shinobu chuckle.

“It’s alright, please breathe easy.”

“You’re so mean, Shinobu-chan.” Mitsuri whined, her mouth full of dango.

“Sorry, sorry~” Shinobu waved her hand, not looking very sorry at all. “Lunch will make up for it, I promise. Kanroji-san has a new recipe from the west we’re going to try.”

“Yes!” Mitsuri clapped, dango already devoured.

“Then I can give you a quick check-up and make sure everything is good to go.” Shinobu promised, already guiding Yn towards the kitchen.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Mitsuri to worm her way into Yn’s heart and earn her trust. Having Mitsuri to confide in was huge. A friend, a confidant and a sister, giving her all sorts of tips and tricks about makeup, clothes and even how to carry herself. There were even things she would ask Mitsuri about that she felt too embarrassed to ask Shinobu about, something that the Insect Hashira noticed and felt a bit jelous about… not that she would ever admit it.

She did, however, interrogate when she felt it necessary, which is how she found herself heading to one of her least favorite places on the planet.

“O-oh, Kochou-sama,” Maeda wrung his hands nervously, sweating in the Hashira’s presence, “what a… pleasant surprise. Do you have a uniform that requires mending?”

“I’m not here for me.” She spoke curtly, making Maeda flinch.

“I- I see… then Tsuyuri-sama, or Kanzaki-san…?”

“No. Shinobu drew closer like a lion circling prey, “I’m here for Ln Yn, she asked for a uniform alteration and I was informed that you turned her away. Is that correct?”

“Ln-san…” Maeda swallowed thickly, “his request was ridiculous, a- a joke I’m sure…”

Shinobu’s eyes flashed, giving Maeda a quick taste of the fury nestled just below her skin, “Masao-san,” she spoke, in an overly sweet tone, “you amaze me, truly.”

“I, I do?” The poor fool almost looked hopeful, but Shinobu quickly shut that down.

“Just when I think you can’t go any lower, you find yourself a shovel.”

Maeda cowered, had he been born a turtle, he would have retreated into his shell as Shinobu proceeded to rip him a new one.

“You know how I loathe your designs… a uniform that’s supposed to protect one from the slashes of the lowest levels of demons, yet you purposefully leave some of the most vital spots bare. Do you know how many women in the corps have been injured, killed, because they were too polite to reject your perversions?” She asked heatedly, not giving him time to answer,

“I loathe it… however, I respect those who feel empowered showing a little skin, if that is truly what they desire. Imagine my surprise when you had not leapt at the chance to give Ln-san a skirt.”

“Kochou-sama, please understand it’s because h—“

“She.” Shinobu cut him off. “You will make her a skirt, about knee length, as she desires or we can guess how long it will take for me to set your base of operations ablaze. It was a little tricky burning that trash you tried to pawn off on me those few short years ago, but I’m confident I still remember how I did it…”

“K-Kochou-sama, please! I don’t even have the measurements!”

Shinobu presented a piece of parchment from her breast pocket, nearly shoving it in his face.

“I took the liberty of getting them myself. I know you already have uniforms on standby, it shouldn’t take long to fix one up to the proper perimeters I’ve set for you. Finish within the hour please, it’s quite chilly today and who is to say what I might do to ensure I stay warm.” She warned, a chilling smile upon her lips.

Safe to say she had a lovely skirt in her hands half an hour later. The unrestrained hug of gratitude Yn had provided upon her return made dealing with the unpleasant tailor all the more worth it. Not to mention… the skirt did look quite good on her and that was only the beginning of Yn’s new wardrobe.

***

Entering the boutique with Shinobu and Mitsuri, Yn felt almost giddy. A girls outing, Mitsuri had suggested excitedly when they had all found themselves together with some rare free time. Well, Shinobu never truly had free time, but she’d be damned if she missed out on seeing Yn try on some cute clothes.

They did run into a little trouble early on, a small group of gossiping women following them around the store, causing Yn grief with their scrutiny. Shinobu wouldn’t let that last for long. To this day Yn still didn’t know what Shinobu had said to those women when she approached them, but she’d never forget how they paled and quickly left the shop in a flurry, getting tangled up in the entryway as one tried to make her hasty exit before the other.

“What did you say to them, Shinobu-chan?” Mitsuri had been the one to ask, while rubbing Yn’s back comfortingly.

Shinobu only smiled, raising a finger to her lips, making Mitsuri and Yn chuckle nervously. She then held out her hand to Yn for her to take and pulled her towards the fabrics for more formal occasions.

“Let’s continue to enjoy our outing, shall we? Kanroji-san, help her pick something nice, my treat.”

Mitsuri wasted no time pushing Yn through the rows of kimono. Shinobu smiled fondly, waiting for their return. She wanted to be surprised, and surprised she was upon their return.

“What do you think?” Yn asked shyly, doing a little spin when Mitsuri enthusiastically prompted her to.

Shinobu’s eyes greedily took in every detail and she sighed inwardly. Of course Mitsuri just had to put her in purple. She had to wonder if Mitsuri could read her mind and was trying to force Shinobu’s hand to finally make a move… Shinobu shook off that idea rather quickly, she had done well to hide her attraction and Mitsuri wasn’t that perceptive. It was a very good unintentional attempt, however. Her instincts managed a direct hit on Shinobu’s heart and now she had to attempt to be casual in her approval instead of foaming at the mouth.

“You look lovely. It really suits you.” Shinobu allowed her eyes to wander under the guise of appraising the outfit and nothing more, soon finding an excuse to get a bit more hands-on because she just couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Just have to straighten out the obi a little.”

“Thank you.” Yn murmured, feeling a little tingly from the gentle tugs and smoothing of fabric. “Are you sure it isn’t… too much?”

“Not at all, I can easily afford this.” Shinobu assured.

“No, I mean, does it really suit me?”

“Ln-san,” Shinobu gripped her bicep, squeezing it in warning, “do you think Kanroji-san or I, would lie to you?”

“No!” Yn squawked.

“Do you think Kanroji-san and I don’t know what looks good?” She pressed.

“No!” Yn rapidly shook her head. “I- I don’t think that at all!”

“Excellent. Pay no mind to what a couple of uninspired, uneducated women who can’t tell you if water is wet without asking their husbands have to say about what you can or can’t wear. Understand me? You’re beautiful.”

Yn felt herself tear up a bit. Shinobu was just too kind. How could someone so amazing exist at the same time as her, let alone be in such close proximity, comforting her? As lovely as the kimono was, she was starting to feel a little too warm with Shinobu staring at her so intently, her fingers still curled around the edge of her obi.

Then Mitsuri scooped her up in an all encompassing hug that made it nearly impossible to breathe.

“Shinobu-chan is right you know! So forget them and let’s have a good time. I know a thing or two about people like that, and it’s really for the best to not acknowledge them at all.”

“Or you could put something unpleasant in their tea.” Shinobu smiled ominously.

“Shinobu-chan!” Mitsuri gasped, hiding a giggle behind her hands.

Yn looked between the two giggling women and couldn’t help but join along, she couldn’t believe what a difference six months could make.

Mitsuri had been called off to a mission just as they were wrapping up dinner in the city, leaving Yn and Shinobu on their own.

“You should stay in the Butterfly Mansion tonight, it’s getting late.” Shinobu spoke up when they came upon the crossroads where they would have to part ways normally.

“That’s alright, Kochou-sama, I—“

“It’s not imposing if I’m actively inviting you over, Ln-san.” She interrupted. “Besides, you look so pretty in your new kimono that I couldn’t possibly leave you on your own to fend off any unwanted advances.”

Yn felt her face heat up, only getting warmer when Shinobu took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the mansion.

“And I have something I’ve been meaning to give you anyway.” She added softly.

***

Upon arriving at the mansion’s gates, Shinobu prompted Yn to wait at the garden’s edge, the sunset provided the kind of ambiance she was hoping for.

Yn rocked from her heels to her toes, waiting anxiously for Shinobu’s return. To be honest, she had something she wanted to tell her. She wasn’t expecting much, she just hoped at the very least, it wouldn’t change their relationship in a negative way.

“Boo.”

Yn jumped as high as the sunflower stalks when Shinobu snuck up behind her, poking her between the shoulder blades.

“Kochou-san! Don’t do that!” She whined, making the Hashira giggle.

“I’m sorry, you just make it too easy sometimes. Anyway,” she presented a thin box to Yn, “for you, it actually matches your new kimono.” She smiled, waiting for Yn to open the box.

“Thank you.” Yn murmured, gasping softly when a butterfly hair ornament, not too dissimilar from Shinobu’s own was revealed to her as soon as she opened the box. “Kochou-sama, this is really for me?”

“Who else would it be for, silly?” She grinned. “Let me help you put it on.”

Yn let Shinobu guide her to a nearby bench and fix the clip into her hair.

“Beautiful.”

“Like a chivalrous knight…” Yn spoke aloud softly, gently bringing her hand up to touch the butterfly’s wings.

“What was that?” Shinobu chuckled, a bit of pink gathering in her cheeks.

Yn yelped, bringing her hands to her mouth.

“D-did I say that out loud? I- I just meant, well, you are kind of like a knight. Helping me, protecting me… I really appreciate everything you do.” She babbled, freezing up when Shinobu hugged her from behind.

“If I’m the knight, then you’re the princess.” She spoke near Yn’s ear, making her shiver. Shinobu chuckled and squeezed her a little tighter.

Safe to say, what Yn wanted to tell her would be very well received.

#shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #requests #anonymous

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