sinfulseraph1

I bring more fic! To be fair this was my first ever fanfic that I was just too lazy to post until now. For this same reason I'll probably end up posting about a chapter per week as I work up the willpower. So without further ado I give you chapter 1...

Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara, but I wish I did.

The night was dark and unusually quiet for Ikebukuro. The famous dangers of the city appeared to be laying low, namely the colour gangs, the dollars, Heiwajima Shizuo, the slasher…well, you get the picture.

However, one of these taboo 'people you must not piss off' was walking purposefully towards a shady bar near Sunshine, the information broker Orihara Izaya. A smirk curled his slightly feminine face as he opened the door; a blast of hot, smoky air hitting his chilled face.

No one looked up. It was one of the rules of the place after all, to mind your own business, a rule which probably extended over the whole of Ikebukuro.

Spotting his client, Izaya made his way towards the gloomiest corner of the already dank room. As he took his seat, his nose wrinkled minutely in disgust, though he was careful to keep the experienced, self assured smirk on his face (the client needed to know that Izaya was the one in control after all).

He had done business with this client before and so was used to the leering gaze of the otherwise reasonably attractive, albeit boring, middle aged man. It was the downside of being able to read and manipulate humans so easily, that you could always tell when some were undressing you with their eyes.

This underground business leader was no exception, and so could never earn Izaya's respect even if he did run a very efficient crime ring. Of course, none of his thoughts showed on his face as Izaya casually prompted the European man.

"Long time no see Karl-san. On the phone you said you had some information which would interest me. If so, maybe we could trade a few se-cr-ets" Izaya purred, dragging out the last word as his playful nature took over.

Karl squirmed slightly in his seat, a slight sheen of sweat glistened on his face, no doubt built up from the hour Izaya had left him to wait. A predatory gleam entered said information master's eye. Really, humans were such fun.

When Karl spoke his voice was pompous, yet he stumbled over his words now and then as though scared of his present company, "It's about Heiwajima Shizuo. Everyone knows you two have a…err...connection". Izaya's face remained playfully superior, but inside he had suddenly become very interested, "My, my…and what has Shizu-chan done this time?"

Karl had taken a handkerchief out and was now dabbing at his face. "Well, I'm going to need some information from you first. T-that's the way business works after all right?"

Izaya's reply was a smooth "of course", but once again his irritation at this man had resurfaced. His eyes had roomed over Izaya's body at that last comment, obviously thinking over what he would like to do with Izaya outside of 'business'.

Resolving to give some of Karl-san's secret trading routes over to his enemies later, the brunette reached into the fur lining of his jacket where his knife was often kept. Where Karl knew his knife was kept, having seen him in action. Human instinct and experience therefore caused the nervous crime boss to freeze until a plain envelope was produced from the jacket. Izaya giggled childishly at the irritating man's display of fear.

The envelope was placed lightly on the table, and Izaya resumed his slouched, yet somehow still graceful posture. Now surveying Karl-san expectantly, he considered the information inside the seemingly average envelope. It wasn't too important; in fact he probably wouldn't even notice it missing. However, it did contain information on the members of the local law enforcement, helpful to Karl-san's line of work.

Karl's clammy hand scrambled for the envelope greedily as he answered Izaya's piercing gaze in a wheezy tone, "He's the older brother of that pretty boy top idol, you know, Hanejima Yuuhei. Apparently, H-Heiwajima cares for him very much. You might be able to use h-him to get to Heiwajima". Disappointment settled in Izaya's gut, which this time he didn't bother to keep from his face, causing Karl to flinch back. "Is that all, Karl~san?" Came the playful voice again, dragging out the crime lords name with a touch of sadism.

That information had been nothing new to him. Not to mention, he would never use it against Shizu-chan, dragging a relative into their game just wouldn't be fun. The game of cat and mouse was between just the two of them, neither of them knowing who was which animal.

In a way, Izaya supposed it was a love hate relationship, at least on his part. Shizu-chan was the one member of the human race that stood out. He was the one human Izaya could never read due to his unpredictable temper, and he both loved and hated him for it. Izaya let out a small, almost demented giggle, causing Karl to press back against the seat in trepidation. Izaya didn't notice.

He stood up with an exaggerated sigh and strolled, almost cat-like, towards the door. Izaya had long ago decided Shizu-chan was his obsession, a prey he considered as solely his.

As he opened the door back out into the night he wondered vaguely whether that was what love was after all. Chuckling, he decided that he did not care as long as their cat and mouse game continued.

Izaya was about to leave when Karl-san's rushed, slightly apprehensive voice stopped him. "S-so I take it you don't mind if I share this information with the colour gangs, and other people who might want it."

Izaya froze.

This was an assignment at my university that ended up never being handed in so if I post it here at least it won't go to waste...

The Hospital Conflict

The pungent smell of disinfectant wafted through the hospital, creating a sense of artificiality further emphasised by the blindingly white walls. All was silent as death, a unspoken grief hanging over the heads of all patients in this ward as they lay there staring into space. The men who dwelled here were all shut away in their respective rooms, the layout disturbingly similar to that of prison cells. How ironic. These men should have been heroes. Missing limbs and missing minds were common here, and completely incurable. Nurses avoided this ward when they could, as the atmosphere had a way of seeping into your skin, choking you with depression and stifling you with pity. After all, thought the nurses, what was the point of helping the hopeless?

That’s why it was odd when a ‘tap, tap, tap’ began to echo down the corridor, the steady clinking of highly polished shoes on an even more meticulously polished floor. An immaculately dark suited figure stood out against the stark white hallway as he marched forward, a stern expression on his face. As he reached the last room in the hall the man seemed to falter, his expression flickering into hesitation before he finally managed to steel himself.

The door flung open to reveal a young man. He was average height and average weight, with average brown eyes and hair. Save for a nasty scar adorning his face and the remarkably calloused hands, the man was completely ordinary. In fact, his only truly usual feature would be his expression. His face was not downcast nor was he frowning or crying, but ugly purple bags puffed out under his eyes and his smile was too stretched; forced even. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hi Dad” came the cheerful, yet somehow hollow voice, “did you make a decision?” A spark seemed to come into those dead eyes for a moment, so fast that the suited man dismissed it as his imagination, or maybe a memory of how that face should be; a memory of a time when they were happy. The two men stared, sizing each other up despite the obvious advantage the elder had against this bedridden, waif of a son. The tension between them was practically visible.

“I won’t” came the reply, deliberate and short, much like the man himself. The patient’s reaction was instantaneous: the false smile drained from his face in a split second to be replaced with trembling lips, a nervous twitching taking hold of his fingers and a glassy sheen of water coated his eyes. The suited man remained impassive, determined not to be swayed, not even by the suffering of his son. “We warned you. Your mother and I warned you what would happen if you joined that pointless war. This is your own fault, Adam.”

His piece said, the man spun on his heel to leave, taking long strides towards the door, trying to get away as soon as possible. Just as his hand reached the doorknob, a broken, desperate voice called out behind him. “Please” Adam cried. Then seeing his father had indeed stopped he tried again, his begging getting steadily more fervent “Oh please, please, please, I need you, please help me, it hurts so much, when I got trampled…oh please…Dad please.” The door slammed shut.

Adam’s father made his way down the many flights of stairs and into bustle of the lobby, trying his best not to break out into a run. Upon reaching the lobby, his strength gave out, slumping against the wall as if suddenly boneless. His mind in a daze, the man numbly observed chatter before him, people hurrying to and fro like headless chickens. The walls were still a spotless, dizzying white, making him want to retch. Slowly he took in a deep breath before straightening up and marching forward towards the door, needing to reach the gentle sunlight that lay beyond.

“Please Dad” yelled a shrill, high pitched voice to his right. Whipping his head around, he was greeted with the sight of a child tugging on his father’s sleeve in front of a vending machine, obviously throwing a tantrum over sweets in the way only children can get away with. “Please Dad” echoed another, much more familiar voice, this time in his head. His stomach twisted and his breath hitched as if trying not to cry. Slowly his body turned, making his way to the receptionist without being truly aware of what he was doing. Upon reaching the desk his mouth seemed to move with a mind of its own, asking a single question. “Can I have the paperwork to donate a kidney please?”

This one was writen quite quickly when I was full of emotion so I apologise before hand for any grammer/spelling errors I missed. The idea just came to me all of a sudden and I had to get it down on paper. It's my first Earthian story! I hope you guys like it!

Michael clapped energetically as the opera's singers took their final bows. Raphael sitting beside him chuckled, giving the smaller angel a fond look, after all Michael had been asleep for most of the performance.

This earned a glare from Michael. It wasn't his fault that the proceedings had been duller than his paperwork. He and Raphael had come to celebrate their one year anniversary since graduation from the academy, in search of entertainment.

Since graduation they did nothing but work, having both achieved extremely high ranked positions in the military. It was only to be expected since they had graduated as the top students at the academy alongside Lucifel, but that didn't make the work any less exhausting.

He had only suggested going to the opera because the performance was produced by their fellow archangel Uriel, supposedly famous for his captivating productions bothas a singer and director. After today, however, Michael very much doubted this little social legend.

He wasn't friends with Uriel, in fact he hardly knew the man outside of compulsory social gatherings. However he wanted to make sure that when the diva met his strikingly beautiful best friend, he was present to prevent any of Uriel's 'tendencies'.

Everyone knew what Uriel got up to in his spare time. The man was famous for his promiscuous homosexuality but never punished for it. The reason was that the entire public thought his blatant displays of 'romance' largely contributed to his 'genius' sense of art and musical performances. Public opinion was so overwhelming in this instance that any move to stop Uriel's pursuits, no matter who his lover was, could incite a riot.

Normally Michael wouldn't care about the man's antics. He himself had never been subject to Uriel's affections, thankfully not being his 'type' as he had so eloquently put it at their first meeting. Although, he had to admit his vain side was slightly offended, as he was usually showered with compliments such as "beautiful" or "cute".

The problem was he had no idea whether Raphael was the man's type. Uriel was famous for two things in his homosexual love life. The first was his incredibly aggressive pursuit of those that catch his interest. The second was how he always got what he wanted.

He definitely did not want Raphael to become one of those unfortunate lovers as he couldn't stand to see his best friend used in such a despicable way (never mind that Raphael was more often than not the one using people).

Mainly, though, it was because he felt a horrid burning in his gut at the mere thought of his best friend involved with any man in that way, whether it was Uriel or not.

Therefore he had an ulterior motive to this outing. He wanted Raphael to meet his fellow arch angel in a highly public setting, so that his dearest friend was not caught off guard by the Prima Donna's demeanour. Not that Raphael was one to be caught off guard.

The two would meet eventually regardless of any interference; being two of only six arch angels on Eden, including Michael himself. The honey blonde had been using all of his valuable resources to put off the twos' meeting for a year already.

A gentle hand at his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie and he turned his head to find startling emeralds gazing into his own sapphire eyes.

"Are we going to sit here staring at the ceiling all day or are we going to congratulate the producer?" Raphael drawled teasingly, wearing an amused smirk.

Michael flushed a pretty pink and pouted in irritation, forcibly squashing the butterflies that always seemed to appear in his stomach at Raphael's teasing. Nevertheless he kept up the charade of sulking and huffed, rising from his seat to stomp over towards a side door marked "VIPS only".

Once past the security and backstage, he turned to Raphael worriedly to repeat his previous warnings.

"Now don't get too close to him. Don't make eye contact. And whatever you do, don't smile."

It was doubtful that Raphael would smile for someone he just met, being as stoic and admittedly manipulative as he was, but you could never be too careful. He definitely didn't want Uriel to see the expression which never failed to make his own heart flutter.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at Michael patronisingly, as if to say 'I think you're being ridiculous but I'll indulge you anyway'. The platinum blonde could be such a smarmy bastard at times.

Spotting Uriel alternatively praising and criticising his performers, Michael sighed and forced himself to relax. Approaching the distinguished director, Michael reminded himself that it would probably be alright. Nothing would happen. At least that's what he told himself until Uriel turned around to greet him.

"Oh Michael what are you doing here? I was under the impression that you had no taste whatsoev-," The pale man broke off his eyes fixing themselves onto Raphael's tall, slender form. Uriel continued his speech in a soft, almost stunned murmur "and…who is this divine creature?"

Michael felt dread soak his mind even as the soft burning in his gut suddenly sprang to life, flooding his entire body. Instinctively placing himself between Uriel and Raphael, who had narrowed his eyes in confusion; Michael stared down his senior angel challengingly.

"This is my beloved friend, Raphael, a fellow arch angel", he stated, pointedly placing emphasis on the "my". "Congratulations on your show. Now I'm afraid we must be going".

Ignoring that last comment and simultaneously breaking social etiquette, Uriel deftly side stepped the fuming blonde. Taking a lock of Raphael's hair in one hand, placing the other lightly on the rather taken aback man's hip, he spoke softly into the angel's ear.

"Raphael, hmm? It is a beautiful name for a beautiful person." Uriel's fingers ran through the other man's hair, admiring the texture. "Your hair is a magnificent blend of snow and sunshine. Your eyes an exotic forest where the unwise will lose their way. And your skin is as flawless as the most radiant diamond."

A lecherous gaze roamed Raphael's body languidly before snapping back up to his face, Uriel grinning all the while. Michael seemed too outraged to speak at this point, sputtering over his words in anger.

"Spoken like a true patron of the arts" Raphael noted with mild amusement, recovering deftly from the unexpected attention and cheesy poetics. Just as Raphael was going to move onto smoothly rebuking the man for his misplaced affections; he caught sight of Michael's indignation.

Never one to pass up a chance to aggravate his superior, a typically evil plan surfaced in his mind. Letting a seductive, yet cunning smirk slide on to his face, Raphael slowly ran up his hands up Uriel's back, resting them at the man's neck. Moving his face closer he whispered in the singer's ear just loud enough for his best friend to hear, the same words Uriel had first spoken to Michael.

"A pity you're not my type," disentangling himself from the now stunned head of arts, Raphael moved smoothly towards the door. A slow smile lit up Michael's face and he scurried after Raphael, laughter bubbling from his mouth. Just as they were about to leave, words floated over from behind them.

"Raphael, I trust I will see you again. You've caught my attention after all and I rarely pass up such a fantastic challenge. Friends?"

"Friends," he agreed before gliding out the door. Raphael threw a smirk over his shoulder. With Uriel around life would certainly never be dull, and Michael is rather adorable when jealous.

At this response Michael froze and his face snapped round. He gave Uriel his best glare, which to be honest was about as intimidating as a new born kitten.

Much to Uriel's delight Michael proceeded to mouth the words "Stay. Away. From. Him", then quickly ran to catch up to his friend.

"Raphael, you didn't mean that did you? Raphael!"

That was how the competition for the position of Lord Raphael's best friend began. Thus Lord Michael's intense hatred for his fellow archangel, Lord Uriel, was born.

Sakura sighed as she looked out across the desert from her bedroom's window. She had a perfect view of the ruins here, bringing back the bittersweet memories of her journey. A small smile settled on her lips as she remembered Mokona's enthusiasm, Fai's teasing, and Kurogane's grumbling. Though nothing could compare to the memories of Syaron. His concern for her safety, his kind smile, and his nobility all brought warmth to her heart. However, at the same time she felt an ache in her chest. An near unbearable longing. She wished she was still with her precious friends on their journey, but knew it was impossible. She had duties to the kingdom of Clow as its princess; even if Syaron was her perfect prince.

The wind around her suddenly stirred to life, and a colourful tinge of magic lit the air, the same clear blue as Fai's eyes. A crescendo of power whistled around her. A primal force that made her hair stand on end, turing her nerves into fire as its electric flavour danced on her tongue. Immediately Sakura's sad smile split into a cheerful grin as she rushed frantically towards the grand entrance hall. She still had these fleeting moments at least. These brief meetings with her faithful compainons before they were again whisked away to the next world. In these moments she could smile and forget all her worries. There was no reason to feel sad or selfish. After all, these visits were her moments of complete happiness.

IZAYA'S POV

The very first time I met Shizu-chan, I left my mark of possession. A knife wound cutting straight along his chest, right over his heart. I admit that at the time it was done out of malice, but now I think of that moment fondly.

That was the very first scar I gave him, which is miraculous if you think about Shizu-chan's amazing regenerative powers. Perhaps Shizu-chan himself never really wanted that wound to heal.

Looking back now it is ironic, as if that wound bound him to me eternally. Both all the love and all the hate in that heart was forever after directed at me. I wouldn't have it any other way.

SHIZUO'S POV

The very first scar I gave the flea was the first time I managed to hit him, indirectly at least. Just a month after our meeting, I had been chasing him with blood pounding in my ears and adrenaline coursing through my veins.

For that whole month it felt like a fist had been clenching my heart. Red eyes constantly peered at me from the corner of whatever room I was in, yet when I spun round furiously with that dreaded name on the tip of my tongue, I saw nothing but air. That cockroach was never far from my mind and it frustrated the hell out of me. Slowly I was driven into a rage unlike anything I ever felt before, until my thoughts never stretched very far from "Kill, Kill, Kill".

You can imagine my pleasure when my uprooted vending machine slammed straight into his chest. I remember my mouth stretching into a satisfied grin at the look on the flea's face as I had wrenched the contraption away from its very roots.

His smirking mouth for once agape, the normally narrowed eyes widened, and the blush of exhilaration on his cheeks turning pure white. That small, lithe dancer's frame was battered away by metal, bruises and broken bones sure to blossom. I almost thought that the vermin looked pretty, but that was a thought quickly dismissed.

For a moment the trash lay there unmoving on the ground, and for a moment I felt like the hand supposedly clenching my heart had ripped it right out of my chest. I was gripped by a sudden fear and tremors shook my deceptively lean body.

Then the lump of black fabric and hair on the ground twitched. My heart soared in what I refused to recognise as relief. Yet I was still unable to move, I only stared as Izaya staggered to his feet with bright red blood dribbling through a rip in his dark shirt. He held his arm at an awkward angle and bruises were already surfacing along pale skin.

Red eyes met blue for a long moment, and it felt almost like a bond first forming one month ago had finally been completed. Eventually eye contact was broken as the flea turned and ran, somewhat less gracefully then before, down a side alley and out of sight.

I stayed in that very spot for a long time afterwards with a cigarette burning away at my lips and my feet still unable to move. It wasn't until later, within the comfort of my own apartment, that I realised Izaya's blood was coming from a graze on his chest right over his heart.

Eventually I found out that the cut soon became a scar, which is ridiculous when realising how many times he had fully recovered from much worse. Now that I think about it, that scar was my first mark of possession on Izaya. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay! I don't even know what I'm supposed to write so I figure I'll just dive in. This is my first (and probably will be my worst) post. I joined livejournal mainly because one of my friends goes on and on about how KAWAI!! some of the communities are. That anime obsessed otaku (though I'm probably worse in that department) can really lay on the bloody peer pressure. Therefore I apologise if what I'm writing now sounds like complete bollocks, but I feel better with a good introduction so lets get that underway:

Gender: Female
Age: Don't you know its rude to ask?
Nationality: I'm a Londoner and proud!
Hobbies: Anime, Video games, Tennis, Anime, Shopping, Playing the piano and - Oh! - did I mention anime???
Political views: Seriously? I don't even know who the current prime minister is. I've given up on all things goverment.

Now we can move on to the important things in life...

Favourite anime/manga characters: Too many to list, but I'll at least give some examples:
Fai (Tsubasa Chronicle), CC and Lelouch (Code Geass), Light (Death Note), All of the Varia (Katekyo Hitman Reborn), Razel (Dazzle - Hey! I didn't even notice that rhymed till now!!), Izaya (Durarara!), and Tyki (D.Gray-Man)

Favourite TV/Film characters: Castiel (Supernatual), Sherlock and Moriarty and Mycroft (BBC's Sherlock - because smart is the new sexy), Loki (Thor), and Talbot (True Blood)

Favourite game characters: Vincent Valentine and Sephiroth (Final Fantasy VII), Gabriel/Dracula (Castlevania), Alex Mercer (Prototype), Altair (Assassins Creed), Dante (Devil May Cry) and Glados (Portal)

P.s. All portrayals of Harley Quiin,be it in games or TV or anime etc, are too epic for words.

ANYWAY, now that my never-ending intro is over with I would like to thank every for taking time to read it (even those of you who have no doubt tried to hang youselves or something half way through).
I will be posting up some of my fanfiction over the next few weeks if you are interested. For those of you who just can't wait *crickets chirping in awkward silence* ....I am pasting a link to my fanfiction account below! Until next time!!

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2243808/sinfulseraph