caffeinated-binturong

[caffeinated-binturong]

Not sure why I haven't used the corkboard in Scrivener more. Maybe it's because I've been largely writing linearly up to this point (and without particularly large word counts) and already have a general idea of where to go but it's really helping with the dreaded "I want to write this scene but don't want to start at the beginning."

Now I understand why I've seen people raving about the feature.

If I was still in school, I'd definitely use it to organize papers ahead of time. Books and (now) fanfics, too, but index cards and scrap paper get lost too easily.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Vestiges of the Past

Ran x Reader

Synopsis: Content to be forgotten, a chance encounter changes your mind even if it dredges up the past. Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort (more comfort than hurt) POV: Second Warnings: None Word count: 6.3k

—

The air is thick with a cloying heat that refuses to leave your skin, the stench of untouched rubbish adding to clouds of dust the breeze barely touches. To call what you're sitting in an alcove would be generous—it's nothing more than a divot for drainage when the rains came.

Lethargy dictated everything you did, all your energy focused on idly listening to the distant sounds of people living their lives and thinking on how rough you throat is. There's no energy left over for anything else.

Just as well that you were so far off the main routes. Down the forgotten passageways, there was no chance of a stranger's pity but also little chance of someone else's drama spilling over onto you.

A streak of black and white shoots by, the movement capturing your attention more than anything else. It was a curiosity that would have piqued your interest at another time, but now you couldn't have cared about it even if you tried. Your mind starts to wander the moment it's gone until shouting draws your attention back.

The stirrings of horrible familiarity rouse you, summoning you back and giving you a pathetic burst of adrenaline so you can sit up straighter and brace against the wall at your back.

To give you enough strength to keep your focus.

When you can clearly hear the heavy steps you knew would be coming, you let out a silent cry that tears up your throat as it passes, your leg stretching out faster than it had in some time.

Perhaps it was juvenile, but it was all you could manage.

Something heavy hits the ground but you're dragged away with his momentum, mind reeling as it tries to make sense of the sudden changes.

You would have happily laid there, face-first in the dirt, for as long as needed but your happiness is cut short. Your mind had barely started to make sense of what happened when your lifted up and slammed against something, sending it back into confusion.

Words flow over you, the meanings there but you can't grasp them. The emotions are easier but still dulled, your own small sense of triumph mingling with the others.

A sharpness cuts through it all but you still find yourself unable to care about it. A distant voice shouts that you should but you use what little strength you have left to flash a cracked smile instead.

When you wake up, it's not gradual or graceful. One moment you're unaware and unmoving, the next you're sitting up frantically groping at a bedside table. When your hands find a cylindrical shape, you gulp down its contents, not noticing how half of it splashes and falls onto you. Only the most basic of instincts keeps you from inhaling something that isn't air.

Your throat doesn't burn like it was supposed to and you could only hope it was water you'd just consumed—if it wasn't, you'd cross that bridge when you came to it.

Once your initial panic is over, it's easier to look outward. Instead of a dirty back alley, you're in a small, sterile room far cooler than what you've been enduring. There's only your bed, no others. One door—one way in, one way out.

No restraints and you'd been allowed to keep your own clothing.

You weren't silent when you came back so you prepare for someone to come but no one does. When it seems no one will, you half-roll, half-fall off the bed out of habit, only realizing too late what you were doing.

Expecting to meet the floor, you're surprised when your legs hold. You stand there, waiting for the shaking fragility to return, but they're solid. You're solid. Cautiously, you stand up straighter and find you can stand without anything pulling you down.

Your coordination still hasn't caught up when you take a step but though you stumble, you don't fall and your feet stay under you. It's only then you notice the bare feet, something you shouldn't have missed.

Looking around, you find your goal. Clenching your jaw, you don ill-fitting boots as you take a final account of yourself—no tingling or numbness or burning, so whatever you drank was either benign or took longer to act than you were willing to wait.

Making your way to the door, you push through it and into the world beyond.

You're on your second glass of water, nursing it and savouring the wonderful way it slides down your throat without leaving a track of glass shards behind—you'd downed your first glass almost as soon as it had been handed to you. You hadn't realized just how parched you were until you were given the chance to quench it.

It had been a long walk from the clinic to the fissures for you but that had given you time to get used to your body again, gaining more confident with every step. By the time you'd made it to The Last Drop, there was a sureness you hadn't felt in some time.

At least physically.

As much as the walk helped your body, it also gave your mind time to come back to itself. You were nervous being here and knew you stood out, making you all the more nervous for that. Blood stains didn't stand out much in a place like this but dirty and ragged clothes did.

When you first entered the bar, you thought you'd be thrown out with how pitiful you must have looked but no one said anything—even now you expect it. You'd made your way up to the counter, eyes of suspicious and curious patrons oozing over you, and exchanged some words with the barkeep.

He was too young to remember, or so you think, but not everyone around is so you hunch your shoulders, making yourself small and uninteresting. You didn't want to be here but when you don't cause trouble, the rest of the bar is fine forgetting you're there.

Waiting somewhere else would have been safer but you needed to confirm some things and couldn't deny your curiosity.

"Would you stop that already?" You flinch at the restrained anger behind the direct address. Turning, you see a hulking woman marching toward you and your blood cools. You hadn't run in the same circles as her but there was no mistaking Sevika.

"Stop what?" you ask, playing up your innocence as you add more rasp to your voice. You turn back to your drink, already thinking of how to leave.

"Your leg," she growls as she comes to a stop standing over you. "Stop it or I'll stop it for you." It's only now you notice one of your legs is vibrating on the footrest.

"Sorry," you mumble, hoping to placate her. Try as you might, though, you can't fully stop, only slow it down.

You're almost tossed off the stool as she forces you to turn toward her. "That's not stopping," she says, dangerously low. By now, others are watching and it's only with effort you keep from running out.

But that was the excuse you needed.

"Fine, I'll spare you the trouble," you give in, hopping down and bowing your head as you leave. Yours wasn't a reaction Sevika was expecting so she watches to make sure you actually leave—some who gave up so readily would try to double back.

It was easy to find a place to watch The Last Drop—being at the junction of three roads gave you plenty of options, and you were more comfortable with this than being inside. Though you thought there would have been better security what with the bar being so central to an empire, not even a chem-baron was above the jostling for rank down here.

After giving it time to see what would happen, barely paying attention as people try to hawk their goods at you, you make your way back, seamlessly boosting yourself onto an overhang as naturally as if you were walking. It's not directly in front of the building but is close enough to watch the doors without being seen from below.

Settling in, you start your vigil—you had nothing if not time—letting the noise wash over you as thick air brought with it notes of food, sweat, and dirt. Not a combination everyone liked but spoke of home for you.

Something you found yourself craving.

The encounter with Sevika had shaken you more than you let on. She wasn't the only person who might recognize you but there would be no bargaining, no running, no fighting if she did and took umbrage with you showing your face.

With the younger folks, they may not know who you are even if they only knew rumours as truth. With them, you were certain you could bluff or omit enough until they doubted themself and you could get away. Even older civilians you were comfortable with. Wary but comfortable.

It was people like Sevika, people who were around when everything went down and who were already part of the underbelly, that you feared. Without anyone's backing, you were on your own and very much aware of the position that put you in.

Avoidance was the only option you saw, at least until you got a read on all the changes. Even being here was a risk—you knew it was—but you had your reasons.

Reasons that don't stop time from dragging on or preventing you from allowing your mind to follow whichever thoughts flit your way. The fear and nervousness from earlier blend and become boredom, the monotony of it all becoming familiar and tempting you to sleep.

There's a brief moment where you snap back when your target finally shows but you find yourself drifting when nothing else happens, your attention waning.

It's late when they appear again, the crowds of the day having given way to those of the night. You shake the stiffness out of your limbs before dropping down and startling people below. Apologetic looks are all you can spare this time—you genuinely feel bad about it—and you have to hope they're enough.

As you pad after your target, bits and pieces come back on how to do this, muscles remembering at times when brains forgot. For once, the drab, dirty nature of your clothing pays off, letting you better blend into the backdrop. A stark contrast to the whiteness of the shirt that's easy to follow and stands out no matter the crowd.

You could have called out to them but they were unknown to you. Not everyone responded well to being followed and you didn't know which way they'd react. Having no ill intent would mean nothing if simply being there was threat enough.

So you keep your distance, learning what you can as you go. Even when you had the chance to get a dossier, observing people and the subtle minutia were your preference if you had to choose. It told you more than what paper could.

The extra shine and wear on an enforcer's weapons, how others react to a person, whether someone sweetens their drinks and by how much if they do... they all told you something you could use to avoid conflict or get in close.

Put simply, it was a puzzle, one you used to relish and were finding your taste for once again.

Your heart picks up its pace as the thrill of the slow-moving chase takes over. Your movements become more fluid as you duck and weave, always watching but never drawing attention yourself. Unbeknownst to you, the slightest of smiles tugs at one corner of your lips, your eyes more alive than they'd been in some time.

There was a pattern below the chaos and you'd found it once again. So caught up in it, in the grace and strength that's been absent too long from your body, you think nothing of it when you find yourself going down a side street. As improved as you were, your reflexes aren't what they used to be.

A flash and you're staring more in disbelief than pain.

"Fuck," you say in unison.

"Why the hell were you following me like that?" Ran scolds you as they dab a cut on your stomach with alcohol, pulling a hiss from you. It had only been meant as a warning but you'd been too slow to avoid the tip of the dagger. Superficial and more a blow to your ego than anything else.

That didn't stop them from dragging you back to their place once the initial shock wore off. Infection could be just as dangerous, they'd said, as they as they ignored your insistence that you were fine.

"I was going to thank you for what you did when I got gutted," you say through clenched teeth. How much of it was from pain and how much from embarrassment, you don't know. "Reconsidering it now."

"How'd you even find me?". A small rivulet snakes its way to your cut and you hiss again when it makes contact. You only get a quirked eyebrow which silently said this was partially your fault and you couldn't disagree—you were more out of practice than you thought.

You'd gotten cocky, now you get to have the reminder of that hammered home.

"Guy at the reception desk," you grunt.

"Please tell me you didn't beat it out of him," Ran says as another stroke of the cloth threatens to turn your hisses into whimpers. "I don't want to have to explain that."

"He's fine. People just tend to talk when someone half-dead stumbles out from the back." You were pretty sure you weren't supposed to be told anything but the receptionist had given you a location before he came to his sense.

With final confirmation coming from Thieram, who hadn't known he was confirming anything, you knew you were in the right place and got a name.

Ran chuckles as they give a final visual inspection. "You say that as if this isn't the first time it's happened."

"It's not." You kick yourself as soon as the words leave your mouth—if they didn't know who you were before, you just narrowed the list down for them. They pause and you swear you can see them trying to place you. Instead of saying anything, though, they change the subject and you're happy to go along with it.

"Well, you're good to go. But next time, don't be so obvious."

"Used to be better." A lot better, you silently add as you pull down your shirt and sit up. "How long did you know I was there?"

"Since the bar," they answer, standing up from the low table they'd been sitting on. You had to give it to them, they hadn't shown it. Or you were so rusty you hadn't noticed. Ran corks the bottle and is putting it away when they notice you moving toward the door. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, leaving?"

"Yeah, no. You're not." Ran doesn't say it as a threat but you hear the steel underneath. You give them a look of confusion—you never meant to stay any longer than needed. "Do you have a place to go?" they specify.

"I'll be fine," you reply gruffly.

"Not an answer." Ran crosses their arms, unphased by your stubbornness. "Go if you want but you're already here, might as well stay the night and figure things out in the morning. I didn't go through so much trouble to keep you alive just for you to trip in the dark and break your neck."

"I'm not that clumsy."

"Could have fooled me."

The offer adds doubt but you ultimately settle on your initial plan. "I probably should go."

"Well if you change your mind, shower's in there." They jerk their head toward a door and turn away—it felt like a dismissal.

You know you should go—and would have if they'd argued—but they had gone and dangled one of the few things that would make you hesitate in front of you. Cautiously, as if this were some cruel trick, you move toward the second door but Ran never looks up. If you looked back, though, you would have seen them grinning.

The last time you'd been able to properly clean yourself wasn't recent—at least like this—so you spend lavish amounts of time lazily scrubbing away old sweat and dirt from your pores. You'd wiped down quickly out of habit and fear the offer would be rescinded, but when that didn't happen, you started going back and being more thorough.

It also gave you an excuse to savour the way the hot water cascaded down your body. Even the sting of it on your cut was pleasurable

The only reason you finally stopped was because the water started to become cold. That and an aroma had seeped in, causing your stomach to demand attention of its own.

"Good shower?" Ran asks when you finally make an appearance. At some point, your old dirty clothes had been swapped out with clean ones but you couldn't be mad about the intrusion.

"Mhm," you absently acknowledge, gravitating toward the kitchen. The smell was stronger out here.

"Put something together while you were busy. Help yourself."

It takes effort to not sprint now that you had permission. It's only a pot of congee but it smells divine. There was even a small collection of things to add to it if you wanted, and boy did you want to, but you also didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of Ran or the situation.

You take your bowl that was emptier than you wanted and sit across from Ran at the dining table. "You really didn't need to do all this."

Ran waves your words away. "It doesn't change much. Besides, it's sort of my fault—partially—that you're in this position to begin with. Least I can do is put you up for a night."

"To a lot of people, that would mean giving up a patch of floor or maybe a spare room, not… this." Not that you wouldn't have been ungrateful if it was. It wasn't that there were no kind people in Zaun, but when there was so little to go around, asking for more felt like a demanding overreach.

"That's because I have standards," they wink but whatever the joke was, you miss it. "But you might want to consider a less dramatic method in the future."

"Believe me, if I could, I would," you mutter before realizing you spoke it out loud. Quickly you add, louder this time, "It worked, didn't it?"

"This time." If they noticed your slip, they don't mention it.

"It does until it doesn't." And if it doesn't, it's not like I'd be around to care, you silently add, shrugging at it all.

"You ever going to tell me what that's all about?"

Leaning back, you look longingly at your now empty bowl. "A few more meals like that and I just might."

After that, you'd been told to have a second helping if you wanted—and you did—but declined and kept insisting you were fine until Ran all but got it for you. The significance of the gesture didn't go unnoticed.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't nearly fallen asleep multiple times while running surveillance so even if you hadn't meant to fall asleep so early, it still happened. One moment you were sitting there talking, the next you were wedged in a corner, thoroughly unconscious.

The following day, the weather finally broke—even if you had been running a fever, it had still been annoyingly hot and muggy. A precursor for the storm that swept in. Down in the fissures, the weather was usually less of a concern but water still fell in sheets.

You still intended to leave like you'd agreed to, the only reason you didn't was because you let Ran talk you into staying until the weather calmed down, and you really didn't want to be out in it.

The day after that, you finally left.

After walking around aimlessly, you'd found an eatery of sorts to stop in. It wasn't anything fancy but it did give you a break from trudging through mud and dodging puddles. From what you could tell, the other customers were also there because it was relatively quiet with no one bothering each anyone.

Exactly the type of place where you could sit and think without worry of being found out or accosted.

You felt comfortable enough to lower your hood but never took your toque off—it didn't do much to obscure your features but you weren't particularly worried about that at the moment. Plus, it was warm.

The storm and its followup gave you an excuse why you were wearing bulkier outerwear—with you body no longer running so hot, you made the unfortunate discovery that you had to concern yourself with staying warm. Something Ran took full advantage of by dumping half their closet on you.

A slight exaggeration.

Maybe.

"Look who it is," comes an unfortunate voice. You silently groan into your toast. "They finally come to their senses and kick you out?" Sevika asks as she sits across from you, a smirk on her face.

She must have seen you from outside and come in. This place wasn't affiliated with anyone and judging by the wary glances of the other patrons, she wasn't a regular.

"What do you want?" you sigh. You just wanted peace but clearly you weren't going to get it.

"Didn't recognize you at first," she drawls out. Whether she meant now or at The Last Drop, you don't know and it didn't matter.

Shrugging, you do your best to appear non-threatening. Even at your best, you'd be no match for her if it got physical and you really didn't want it to get that far.

"Got a haircut," you lie but only she'd know it—anyone listening in would assume it was true. And you had to assume people are eavesdropping, you knew how easy it was.

"Let me see." She leans over and takes your toque off herself. You freeze at the closeness and the very real threat you feel in the strength of those fingers as they push against your scalp. "No, that's not it, you still look like a rat." Your stomach drops at her emphasis of the last word even though you knew it was coming.

You lower your voice. "That was a long time ago."

"Not so long." Sevika drops her volume to match yours but there's a hardness in it.

"What do you want?" you repeat, this time with a different meaning.

The woman sits a bit taller at that, a spark of victory in her eye. "For you to stop conning my friend, for one."

"I'm not conning anyone." Iron drips into your voice at the accusation. "And if you mean Ran, they can take care of themself." You didn't have time to examine why you were defending them or why the implication they were hapless bothered you more than the accusation against you.

"Could have fooled me," Sevika sneers, "what with you wearing their old clothes. You steal from them, too?"

"… Fuck you," you hiss. Sevika leans back, smug at whatever you just handed her.

"Not gonna happen."

"That's not—!" you sputter, taken off-guard. "Fuck you," you say again as you stand and walk out. It wasn't the best parting shot but you hadn't had time to come up with anything better and you weren't going to stick around until you did. It may be a mistake—certainly was one—to leave on such a sour note but if you stayed any longer, you'd say something you'd regret.

Or you'd take a swing at her. You wouldn't win that one but it would be satisfying.

It's only when a chill goes down your spine that you realize she still had your hat and a new wave of seething takes over. Must be so easy, taking what you want. Being someone few want to pick a fight with.

You hadn't been in the bar when if happened, but you were around when she broke away from Vander. A bold move, one you don't know what the response would have been to if The Lanes hadn't been turned upside down shortly after.

To be someone of consequence... must be nice.

Funneling your energy into walking, you go all over Zaun until your frustration is burned off and you find yourself in front of a familiar door.

You give two light knocks and wait.

Jerking awake, there's a moment where you don't remember where you are or why you're in bed with someone but it's over in a flash. When memories fill in the blanks, you relax into the warm body you're draped across. None of this had been your goal but you couldn't complain.

Really couldn't complain.

Stretching a hand out from under the covers, you turn it this way and that, looking and considering. Yesterday you'd gone to the southside docks to look into work—hauling and heavy labour like that was beyond your current abilities but doing repairs, you could do that.

Once you got up, you'd try the northside. Maybe check out any tailors and you could always see if any scrap pickers were looking to hire someone on. Time would tell if you'd be allowed to move on, but you're tentatively hopeful. A foreign feeling.

Once you got up and you were in no hurry to do that.

"Bit cold," Ran says quietly when you pull your hand back and place it on their stomach.

"Now we're even," you retort. You didn't regret it for a second. "Been awake long?"

"Long enough to feel that full-body jerk of yours, if that's what you mean. And wonder what the hell you were doing just now."

"You could have said something." You feign offence and feel a chuckle before answering the question that wasn't a question. "Was thinking about jobs. Trying to get things lined up."

"And all it took was nearly dying, an emergency doctor, and a bit of shimmer."

"Who's fault is that?" Another amused huff. You could get up but if you did, your day would officially start and you don't want that so you do something else: start to fall asleep again. At least until Ran starts shifting.

"Gotta get up for a sec," they say as they extricate themself from you.

With the room to yourself, you wrap yourself in the covers, burying yourself until there's no sign you're there… except for the lumpy ball.

You have to wonder how many scars Ran actually had under the unmarred surface of their skin. Some were evident but there had to be others, no one down here had none.

You had your own collection, many visible and more that weren't. Each telling a story, a memory, a reminder, the latter often proving to be—

"There you are," grins Ran as they pull back the blankets, interrupting your thoughts and getting a startled yelp out of you. They barely lay back down when you roll on top of them in a feeble attempt to pin them. "Looked like you were deep in thought," they say as they prop their head up with their left hand, their right resting on your back.

You hiss at the cooling metal. "That I hate you."

"No you don't."

"How do you know that?"

"I know what you're thinking, remember?" They raise an eyebrow, repeating your own words back at you.

You grumble but can't argue with yourself. "Was thinking about scars mostly."

"It bothering you?" Ran asks, worry seeping in as they furrow their brow.

"Not really. Mostly just itches." You can feel them relax at your words but you don't want to leave it there. "I'll tell you later, if you want."

"Deal."

Reaching up, you gently move their hair to the side so you can see their full face. Dark eyes watch as you do, a soft, crooked grin on their lips. You wonder when you got so clingy and sentimental and you can feel the embarrassment building.

Before it can crash down on you, though, a wickedness enters those eyes and the grin morphs into a fully-fledged smirk.

"I believe you owe me a story."

It takes a moment to understand but when you do, you groan and bury your head in their chest. You did say you'd tell them about how you used to gamble with your life and they'd kept their side of the deal, now you had to follow through.

When you found yourself at Ran's, it was to clear up whatever rumours they heard and answer questions, nothing more. After everything they'd done, you didn't want to just disappear or have them start thinking you were using them—who knows what nonsense Sevika was telling them.

Clearing your name was secondary to assuring them they hadn't made a mistake, that there was no reason to feel guilty about it. Not that they necessarily would but you knew how tempting it could be, all the same.

It would have been so much easier if it was just about you.

But it wasn't.

You had no regrets about your past, only certain outcomes, but there were still parts few from the undercity would look upon favourably and you'd heard the exaggerated lies surrounding those.

Ran lets you talk, though, never interrupting. The lack of reaction builds as you say more and, getting nothing in return, you say more than you might have otherwise, emphasizing certain parts.

You tell them how you used to be part of a small gang of no note—more of collection of neighbourhood kids that banded together. As small as you were, there was no hope of using force to crawl out of the mud, so the more enterprising amongst you turned to information.

Nothing that would draw the attention of Hush or step on anyone's toes, just small, localized jobs. That is until one of you managed to worm their way into the good graces of the enforcers, then people started to take notice.

It took time to cultivate your ties to topside, the rumours about you being a collaborator isolated you from much of the undercity but they helped secure topside's trust. Most people might have thought you were cozying up to the Pilties, but there were some who knew the truth and that had been enough.

When the enforcers got comfortable enough to start talking openly around you, that's when everything changed.

First for the better. The information you brought back was accurate and could be sold for more coin than any of you had seen. No longer nobodies doomed to be a flash in the pan before being forgotten, you were something now.

Your old neighbourhood started changing, too—ventilation pipes were fixed, buildings got a new coat of paint, people living there started looking healthier. It was a good time for everyone.

Then it started crashing down.

You didn't know if someone was onto you specifically or if the enforcers finally realized there was a mole, but the information you brought back started becoming inconsistent. Sometimes it would be accurate but other times, you'd be hours, days off. Targets might be different. Whole operations would shut down and more to avoid a raid that never manifests.

Resentment grew. You were trying to get out but that didn't save you. Any of you.

It culminated with another gang getting burned—multiple key members got hauled into Stillwater and the Crimson Steel wasn't a forgiving sort even on a good day. It was your mistake but they made your entire gang pay the price for it.

Only death was considered too swift, too merciful for you yourself. You were condemned to a waking death. You watched the lifeblood of those you considered family stain the ground.

Suffered through the painful looks of those they left behind who blamed you for their absence until you couldn't take it anymore and they were glad to see you leave.

Heard the rumours that picked up that that not only revolved around you but sometimes about the others. And if you were hearing them, no doubt their families were, too.

You were stripped of everything, called every name in the book, left with nothing. You tried to leave a couple times—where, you didn't know—but that never ended well for the people willing to take you, so you stopped trying.

You don't know how much people talked about it now—last you heard, the Steel ended up picking a fight with the Slickjaws—or if the city had finally moved on, but you knew the baggage you brought. That even being seen associating with you could throw someone else's reputation into question.

You wanted Ran to know this and that they could always deflect repercussions onto you. That you were okay with that.

It was a lot—maybe too much at points—but it got easier as you went until you finally ran out of things to say and they still weren't giving you anything. With an unexpected sense of dejection, you're about to see yourself out, to disappear with this new chance, when the first cracks appear on their previously inscrutable expression.

"I have a confession of my own to make," they finally say, a victorious grin slowly spreading. You have no idea what to think of that reaction. "I knew a lot of this already."

"What? How?" Then, indignantly, "And you just let me go on like that?"

"You seemed to be really into it. Didn't want to interrupt."

"Ass," you exhale but there's only relief in it.

"As for how, did you forget I was around when that all went down?" With chagrin, you had to admit you had. "A turncoat cozying up to topside… yeah, there was a lot of buzz. Didn't realize it was about you until Sevika figured it out and warned me, though."

You think back to every time those two interacted. "So, this whole time?"

"More or less." Ran shrugs. "But that's how I know you left something out."

"Which is?" you ask knowing full-well what it would be.

Now it's Ran's turn to look uncertain. Not at the truth but how to word it. "About the same time, someone leaked plans the enforcers had where they were going to hit multiple places simultaneously. A lot of us would have assumed it to be fearmongering hearsay, something you put out to distract the other guy before you make your move, but our bosses were panicked, said there was proof.

"It was the sort of thing that should have been talked about it for a long time, only it was bullied out in favour of talk about how there was a traitor among us. People who weren't there may not even know about it anymore. Never knew who was responsible," they finish. "Until now."

"Burned a lot of bridges with that. Enforcers weren't too happy having someone steal their files," you say with a thickened throat, trying to inject humour.

"Any reason you left that out?"

"Been branded as a traitor so long, must have slipped my mind."

Ran presses their lips into a line and watches you until you start shifting under their gaze. "You've got to stop doing that."

"What?"

"Blaming yourself for everything when it was a group effort."

"I wasn't—" you start only to realize they weren't wrong. It had been going on so long and with no one else around to share the burden, it was easy to slip into thinking you were the catalyst. After all, that's what you'd been told and why you were spared, right? "How do you do that?"

"What's that?"

"Seem to know what I'm thinking before I do."

"For one, I'm observant." Ran gives you a lopsided grin. "Two, your poker face is less poker and more flashing neon sign. If you're ever asked to gamble, do yourself a favour and don't."

That was news to you. "Used to be better," you mutter.

Ran moves to sit on the table across from you.

"Do you trust me?" they ask, suddenly serious again.

"Of course." You furrow your brow at the sudden change and simple question. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"So, you trust me even though I kill for a living. I could overpower you right now and no one would know about it or miss you." It wasn't a threat, just stating something both of you knew already.

"Not sure I'm following," you say.

"This whole thing, you keep emphasizing your connection with topside, saying you sold people out. Sure, you tossed them some scraps but how much did you actually do and how much is from buying into lies about yourself?" They look at you with sympathy and pity. No, not pity, something else, and this close and direct, you have nowhere to go and have to take it. "If you trust me, why wouldn't the reverse be true?"

Your mouth runs dry. Any association with topside was looked on with suspicion—Ran had to know that—but it's been a long time since someone knew that you fed them information and trusted you to not sell them out.

Even when you weren't worried about someone knowing who were, you still omitted that particular detail just because of the reactions people had to it.

"I… don't know what to say."

"How about that you've been a self-aggrandizing idiot?" chuckles Ran. You glare at them but that only makes them laugh. "Flashing. Neon."

—

A/N: Started the post too late in the day but got too stubborn to pause or break it in half. Neither Tumblr nor my browser are happy about this.

[caffeinated-binturong]

I'm not the biggest horse person (I like 'em well enough but I don't know all the breeds or sports or anything like that) yet I just spent however long touching on certain aspects of horses/riding/tack and it's now the most detailed part of the rough draft so far...

I am now unsure if this will be an Arcane fic with some riding or a riding fic with a coat of Arcane tossed on it.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Been chipping away at editing an older fic as a palette cleanser/for a break and am having to rewrite a whole damn chapter. I'm still keeping some plot beats and hoping this is the only chapter I have to do this with, but it's like taking a blowtorch to an herb garden.

This was supposed to be low-key and to create some padding when it's eventually done, not this time-consuming.

In other news, a Ran fic is about to enter the final editing pass and a Ranvika one is in the middle of the first. Was debating about whether or not to skip right to posting but I changed so much with the first I kind of want to make sure it's cohesive.

(And yes, I am fully aboard the Ranvika train right now.)

((I may be putting off my crackship fic because I'd need to shift my writing for it and if writing second-person, present tense has taught me anything, it's once I do, there may be no coming back.))

[caffeinated-binturong]

asjhdgasjdhgas

Just casually hitting the 4k mark and still going. This feels unfair to the other fics and is the closest I've gotten to breaking my "No smut on Tumblr" rule.

Welp, add another fic to the pile. Of course I got an idea at 3am and am up to over 1.1k words before anyone even shows up.

I could blame insomnia for it all but I'd be lying if I said werewolf!Sevika and vampire!Ran didn't play a part in it or that I'm not eager to get to the part they appear.

I wouldn't even say I'm big on the whole vamp/werewolf thing but it was a Megatron "Yes." montage the whole time I was thinking of this crossover AU.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Welp, add another fic to the pile. Of course I got an idea at 3am and am up to over 1.1k words before anyone even shows up.

I could blame insomnia for it all but I'd be lying if I said werewolf!Sevika and vampire!Ran didn't play a part in it or that I'm not eager to get to the part they appear.

I wouldn't even say I'm big on the whole vamp/werewolf thing but it was a Megatron "Yes." montage the whole time I was thinking of this crossover AU.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Or 3? 4? I don't know how to count one since it's become so far removed from the initial idea at this point, it may be it's own thing.

It's not like I have a bunch of other fics to finish or anything...

Fics are like hydras: finish one, two ideas take its place.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Fics are like hydras: finish one, two ideas take its place.

[caffeinated-binturong]

And They Were Roommates

??? X Reader (Ran, Sevika, Ranvika, none)

Synopsis: You're at the end of your rope when it comes to dealing with your roommate, Sevika, and it takes a crisis and someone uninvolved to see just how far things have broken down and you're both at fault for it. Genre: Fluff, light angst, multiple endings POV: Second Warnings: None Word Count: 2.7k for first half; 1k-1.8k for second; 7.9k for all

A/N: Changing up the formatting a bit for this one. Couldn't decide what ending I liked more and had an idea for each so I wrote all of them so it's viewer's reader's choice—read one or all. Each varies and has tidbits to give greater context to everything and may allude to something in a different ending but they serve as a self-contained story so you aren't required to read everything.

—

As far as it went with roommates, Sevika was a mixed bag. She was prompt about paying her share of the rent and wasn't around much so it was like you had a more space than you could have gotten by yourself, the downside being her odd hours and acting as a live-in nurse.

Technically you didn't need the room as you had taken over, but more was better as far as you were concerned. It wasn't just about moving your desk and supplies out of your bedroom, it was having room to expand your personal book collection without having pare it down in equal measure.

All it would take is a mention of something you found interesting—and in your line of work, that happened regularly—and you'd see if you could find a book on the subject that went into more detail. Even if your interests changed, you balked at the idea of getting rid of any of them.

More and more you found yourself thinking about it, though.

"Welcome back," you drawl when you hear the front door open and close. You're busy working your way through someone's terrible handwriting, your desk scattered with open books and scrap paper where you tried deciphering the notes—the other person who lived here showing up wasn't unusual enough to stop.

"Anyone been by?" Sevika asks, breathing harder as if she had rushed home.

"For you? No," you reply after half-listening.

"And you?"

"Also no." Since when did she care about that?

"Good."

"Something going on?" you ask, clearly annoyed. If she had done something that would bring enforcers to your door again...

"There's a push against Silco," Sevika replies as if that answers everything. After she heads into her room, you give your work a final look before sighing and turning around.

"It happens," you say, raising your voice to still be heard. "Don't see you acting like this every time it does." It seemed everyone was jostling for a better position in Zaun, though usually they had enough sense to not aim so high.

"Because those other times weren't so direct and didn't coincide with a major deal falling through," she calls back.

"Still doesn't explain why you're so agitated." You're waiting for her to explain how this in any way affected you but you hadn't heard anything so far that indicates it would.

"It's my job to try to salvage that deal. I have to catch a ship and am running late."

"So? Deals fall through."

"The point is," she calls, "is I'm not going to be around until that's done and the people going up against Silco are known for taking out hits on people to intimidate their actual target"

You let out a bark of laughter. "Pretty sure I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. Most of the time," says Sevika as she re-emerges with a hastily packed duffel bag slung over her shoulder. "Just maybe not with these people."

"So you painted a target on my back and are bouncing," you summarize, crossing your arms. "Thanks for that." This was decidedly worse than enforcers—you left that line of work in part to get away from this sort of thing.

"Not by choice."

"So, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" you scowl. "Just hide in here until you get back? Because I have shit I can't put on hold and I shouldn't have to for something you did."

"Didn't say that," Sevika says tightly. "Just be careful and not alone. Ran'll check in on you."

"You hired a babysitter for me?!" The audacity of it! She was acting as if you hadn't survived the same streets she had—just because you weren't chummy with a chem-baron didn't mean you were helpless.

"Who else would you have picked? Gustove? Oni? Maintaire?" Sevika demands, your antagonism and the time pressure getting to her. "Because it has to be someone."

"Thanks to you," you mutter. There was only so far you could push Sevika and you don't want to find out what happens if you cross that line. You weren't going to win this but you didn't have to roll over so easily. "If I must have a nanny, I'd rather it be someone like Mia."

"Who the hell is Mia?"

"A friend."

"Can they handle assassins?"

The topic never came up and it wasn't something you asked about. "... I don't think so," you reluctantly admit.

"So, Ran?" Sevika hovers pointedly near the door.

"Fiiine." If she had just asked, you might have decided that yourself and this whole thing could have been avoided. If time really was an issue, you understood why it didn't happen, but you'd have appreciated it if she talked to you like an an equal and come up with a plan together.

Instead she was being so patronizing over something you had no part in.

"Make sure to keep everything locked and the blinds drawn," Sevika reminds you as she slips out.

Did she really think you were so daft? You'd been locking the door since you could remember.

Despite appearances, though, you're rattled—you haven't seen Sevika act like that before and she'd been living with you a while. It must be more serious than she was letting on.

Once Sevika's gone and you don't think she's coming back, you make the rounds ensuring everything is properly locked and latched—just because you could put up a fight didn't mean you wanted one. When you finally make it back to your desk, it's not to finish your work, it's to check that your pistol is still in the drawer you left it in.

A knock at the door makes you jerk awake, confused over where you are and what happened. You're at your desk but you don't remember falling asleep though your back says you've been there a while. From what you do remember, you had finally hit your stride and even made coffee so you wouldn't have to stop.

A second more insistent set of knocks reminds you someone's waiting on you so you start to put the gun away—when did you take it out?—but recall Sevika's warning. Taking the pistol instead, you crack the door.

"Can I help you?" You're brusque as you blink yourself awake.

"Are you always this cheery in the morning?" replies Ran. You didn't really know them but you'd seen them around enough to know them on sight. This wasn't a complete stranger so you relax.

You suppress a yawn as you let them in. "Here to check up on me?"

"Yup." Ran looks around the place before seeing the gun you're absently holding by your thigh. "Gonna shoot me?"

"Oh. No." You forgot you were holding it and quickly put it down after locking the door. "What time is it?"

"Mid-morning. Long night?"

"Something like that," you mutter as you put the kettle on. "Well you're here, you've seen I'm safe. Job done. You can go now."

"You really aren't a morning person, are you?"

You sigh. "Look, I'm sure you're nice but I already told Sevika I don't need a babysitter. You can move on with your day.

"I agree, you seem capable enough." Their eyes flick to your gun. "Think of me as a personal bodyguard instead."

"... That doesn't really help."

"But it does help, right?" they grin. You look at them trying to decide if this was a ploy of some sort or not before giving up—you weren't awake enough to deal with someone so cheerful even if it was an act.

Maybe you should have insisted harder on someone else after all.

While Ran makes themself comfortable on the couch, showing no intention of leaving, you loiter in the kitchen avoiding them and slowly working the knots out of your back and shoulders. You were only willing to be so rude and Sevika was the one to be blamed for all this—Ran was an innocent party as far as you knew.

"Coffee?" you ask with a heavy sigh after the kettle boils.

"Sure."

"If you're sticking around, you won't have much to do," you say as you scoop out enough grounds for a second person. "I'll be busy with work."

"That's fine, I've been meaning to get some reading done."

It would have been easier if you were playing up how much work you had to do, but after handing your unwanted visitor a mug and replacing your cold one with the new one, you scan the scattered pages and feel your lips press tighter and tighter together.

Everything was a mess and apparently you tried to work on it last night but your scribbles were worse than the writing you were supposed to be copying. It was a miracle you hadn't spilled something.

Frowning, you settle in and get to work.

Despite your initial apprehension over having someone else around and your annoyance at why that was, you quickly come around to Ran and don't mind them as much as you thought you would. You thought they'd be overbearing and oppressive like Sevika could be but that wasn't the case—you even forgot they were there at times because of how little of your attention they demanded.

It didn't hurt that they would pick things up for you on the way over or make lunch after seeing your eating habits, or lack thereof either.

The ultimate sign you'd warmed up to them was when you dug out your copy of a book about blacksmithing all the way from Krexor after a comment they made. The book was old but it was a lucky find, one you didn't think you'd make again.

Some books you had no issue lending out but others, the ones you thought rare or prized, stayed in your possession unless you truly liked someone.

Over the days, strangers became acquaintances which became friends and silence had evolved into actual talking. You certainly wouldn't tell Sevika this, but she could have done a worse job in picking someone to watch you day in and day out. So when Ran winces one morning, you don't have to pretend to be concerned.

"The hell happened? You okay?"

"It's nothing," they say. "Someone was a sore loser is all."

"Let me see." Your voice is hard—you were used to having to fight Sevika over this and she always downplayed her injuries. Ran's the opposite and obediently untucks their shirt to show you the bandage already on their side. "Is that all?" you push.

"Yup." You search their face to see if they might be lying before concluding that they weren't. Or they were better at hiding injuries than Sevika was.

"Good. I thought I'd have to crack open the first aid kit again," you sigh as you sink to couch beside Ran.

"Didn't know paper cuts required a whole kit," they tease as they put their clothing back in order.

"Ha ha," you say with anything but mirth. "It's not for me, Sevika just has a habit of showing up injured and if she tries to patch herself up, there's a lot more cursing and wasted supplies. Easier if I do it."

"Not the easiest patient, is she?"

"Try living with her," you grumble. "I've lost track of how many times I've woken up to bloodstains that weren't there when I went to bed. On the bright side, my sewing skills have never been better."

"At least you have the place to yourself most of the time," Ran says.

"Sure, I guess," you exhale. "But she assumes I'll always be around and will drop everything the moment she waltzes in. Or it's something like this where her work follows her home and it's on me to deal with it. I don't know if it's worth the headache anymore."

Ran furrows their brow. "Why do think she does that?"

"Because she's an inconsiderate ass."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

This is the first time you've seen Ran approaching anger as they stare at you with a dark eye. "It's because she trusts you."

You laugh at the obvious joke. "Sure, to not stab her in her sleep."

"Do you think she'd live with just anyone?" Ran asks without joining in.

"How should I know?" you scoff, getting uncomfortable with how serious Ran was being. "We've never talked about it and it's not like she's around much. I know you better and she's the one I live with."

Ran leans against the armrest and looks you hard in the eye. "Take it from me, she wouldn't be this stressed or taken on so much extra work for just anybody."

That catches your attention. "What do you mean 'extra work'?"

"Well, you probably deserve to know," Ran sighs after judging how much to say. "I was supposed to join her on this little trip, as you've called it, but she somehow convinced Silco she could manage it all on her own. Told me to watch out for you after that meeting finished."

"... That bitch!" you spit, startling Ran. "She made a big deal about how I had had a choice, the whole time she'd already set things up with you. It would have been better if she just said that instead of pretending I had any say in the matter."

"She didn't give me much of a say about it, either," Ran reminds you.

You're fuming now and only half-hear Ran. "See what I mean? She's impossible! Does what she wants without any consideration to how it affects others."

"So why'd you move in with her?"

"What? She moved in with me," you turn to glare at Ran but your anger starts to falter. "Or we moved in at the same time? In any case, I had an idea of what she was like before but I didn't know living with her would be like this."

"Like what?"

"For one, deciding things for me," you huff. "I managed just fine without her. I knew what she was like—I'd heard the rumours—but none of them mentioned that. If I knew, I'm not sure I would have agreed to this."

You'd been thinking about this for a while now but it's the first time you'd said it out loud. You've complained about her, of course, but never outright said you were doubting just how sustainable this living situation was.

"Have you told her this?" Ran's voice is softer, sympathetic.

You try to summon your usual ire but it comes out flat. "When would I have? It's not exactly something that can be hashed out in a few seconds. Even if she is home, someone's either too wasted or tired for it."

"You should," says Ran. They were entirely too invested in whatever they thought was going on but that didn't mean they were wrong. If you were to move out, you'd need to bring it up anyway.

"Maybe." You rub your neck, shifting to lean forward with elbows on knees. "She ever tell you we met before? Before moving in together, I mean."

Ran struggles to keep a straight face with how you were sitting—it took away from your grousing about Sevika when you were sitting like her. "Nope."

"Figures. Though she probably doesn't remember." That was a point you were willing to concede. "It was after Vander died but before things calmed down so there was a lot going on—you probably already know better than me. Anyway, Silco wanted copies of some documents and I guess your regular person was busy or something so I ended up with the job."

"Thought you didn't like getting involved," Ran says without judgement.

"I don't but I needed the cash," you give a rueful smile. You could be pickier now, but times were harder back then. "Sevika served as contact and handler since your boss was occupied with other things. Locked me in a room and told me to be finished before she got back or I'd have to look into a different career."

"And you thought it was a good idea to move in with her after that?" Ran gives you an incredulous look.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," you shrug.

—

[Sevika] Word Count: 1.2k [Ran] Word Count: 1.2k [Ranvika] Word Count: 1.8k [Platonic] Word Count: 1k

[caffeinated-binturong]

[first half if you missed it]

A couple days after that, you're cooking a late dinner when the lock clicks, giving you a momentary start after you'd gotten used to the quiet of having the place to yourself. You go back to minding the stove—though not without a quick glance for the chef's knife—so when Sevika shoves her way in, it looks like any other time she's come home and you're in the kitchen.

"Finally back, huh?" you ask the exhausted woman.

Sevika grunts an affirmative, looking around and asking, "Where's Ran?"

"Already gone."

"They should still have been here," grumbles Sevika as she drops her bag onto the floor. There hadn't been time to hammer out exact times but she was expecting Ran to stay later than they had been.

"At this time of night? If you wanted sleepovers, maybe you should have actually paid them, but I am actually capable of looking out for myself, you know?" You push down on the contents of the skillet for no other reason than to get a nice hiss.

Sevika blinks, surprised you knew about her deal with Ran but she shouldn't be—of course Ran said something. Though with your back to her, it seems like Sevika had nothing to say before declaring she had to take a shower. By the time she's done, you're halfway through your meal.

"Thought you'd be done for the night," you say churlishly as Sevika puts her boots back on.

"Have to swing by The Last Drop."

"At least put your stuff in your room first." She was in such a rush to get away again, she was going to leave it there for you to deal with and you could already smell it.

When Sevika gets back, you're flipping through a medical textbook both for your job and because the clinical talk of mortality eased your more turbulent thoughts. At least until you got to The Grey and its history so you skipped those parts when you could.

Sevika flops on the couch beside you. "Can I help you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Apparently you think I hate you or something," Sevika says bluntly.

"Don't you?" you ask more rhetorically than anything else. You knew she did.

Sevika sighs, deflating at the confirmation. "So Ran wasn't lying."

"Good to know the person who made such a big deal about how I couldn't be left alone found time to run off and have a chat."

"That's not—!" she snaps before taking a deep breath and picking her words carefully, voice straining to keep even. "I don't hate you. If anything I should be asking you that question."

"Well, there's how you eat my stuff," you say, starting off easy.

"Because you most of it is yours," she counters.

"Okay, fine. How about how you barely say anything when you're home?"

"You always seem busy," replies Sevika. "Don't want to interrupt."

"So you disappear into your room instead."

"Yes," she says. "And you don't like me smoking around you and I sure as hell aren't going to stand outside to do that."

"When you toss me onto my bed when you want the couch to yourself?"

"How do you know if I toss you when you're asleep?" Sevika demands.

"Just answer the question."

"No, I don't throw you and if I leave you there, you'll complain about how poorly you slept."

Ran had said Sevika cared about you but you weren't ready to admit you'd been wrong all this time just yet. "And treating me like a child, giving me false choices?"

"Yeah…" Sevika says slowly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I kind of fucked up with that."

That concession does more to convince you that Ran was right than any explanation would have. Sevika was many things but she wasn't a liar, the only thing she did less often was admit to messing something up.

Sevika takes advantage of your silence. "Remember the first time we met?"

"I remember you showing up with not much more than a pack of clothes and a bottle of whiskey," you say. "It wasn't until the next day you started moving the rest of your stuff in."

"Ha, I remember that." Sevika chuckles at the memory and of your flabbergasted expression in it—you were so put together while she must have looked like a kid who was moving away from home for the first time. "But it was before that. Silco's usual guy turned up dead so there was a scramble to find someone else who would make copies of some records.."

"So that's what happened." Sevika raises an eyebrow at how quickly you remembered but lets you continue. "You pushed me to work fast."

"We didn't find out about the guy and replace him until late so there wasn't much time left and people expected you to fail."

"So when you threatened me, that was to help?" You were doing well to keep sarcasm out of your voice until this point.

"Yeah," says Sevika. "If you didn't finish in time, there'd be consequences and I don't think you'd have liked them."

You could still recall that brief time. "I didn't sleep for two days getting those reports for you done!"

"Finished with time to spare," Sevika smirks.

"Barely," you mutter. It was like she was waiting with how quickly she showed up. You could appreciate the efficiency of it but you still had a bit of a panic attack after the fact. "So, we've really been going at it because of misunderstandings, huh?"

"Seems like," Sevika agrees. "Though you're the one who tries to pick fights."

"Only because you don't say anything," you retort. You'd have to thank Ran for helping get this all out in the open. The pressure you were feeling was gone.

"How about this: I'll speak up more if you drop the attitude. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

—

[Sevika] | [Ran] | [Ranvika]

[First half]

[caffeinated-binturong]

[first half if you missed it]

A couple days after that, you flop on the couch after finally organizing all your books. You'd tried and failed to find a medical reference book and had enough. Though even with Ran's reluctant enlistment, it had taken hours until you were satisfied with the results.

"You said you had a lot of books but I didn't realize just how many," says Ran, a slightly shocked expression still on their face. They'd seen the ones you used most frequently for work since those were on your desk, but the chaotic magnitude of what was in your room explained why it took you forever to find something and why you'd been so apologetic when asking for help.

"Mhm." You lean your head back and stare up at the ceiling.

"Didn't think you needed that many."

"For work? No," you say before you rub your hands on your face. "It can be handy—especially if you're navigating technical language—but you can get by with a handful. No, most of what we cleaned up is my own."

"How many poetry books was that again? Twenty? Thirty? Forty? Thought for sure you'd been hired for by a widow or two, but those were a lot of different author..." Ran teases.

You toss a pillow at them. "Shut up, it's good!" You'd realized your mistake too late and Ran had gotten a first-hand view of your collection. You weren't ashamed of what you liked but you knew you weren't going to live it down.

"How'd you get a fancy seven volume complete collection, anyway?"

"I miiight have got that one from Piltover."

"How could you?!" Ran lets out a fake gasp. If you had another pillow, you'd have thrown that one, too.

"It was a limited edition reprint to celebrate the Hexgates!" you protest. "I had to sleep topside for three days to get those! Bet I'm the only person in Zaun with them and you're making fun of me, aren't you?"

Ran gives you a wink before leaning on the pillow you kindly provided them. "I wouldn't have expected it, is all. It's almost romantic."

"I can be romantic!" you squawk.

"I can see it now. Taking someone to a cultivar, serenading them with something from one of your many books of poetry. There's string instruments playing. Probably birds in flight at some point."

You groan and bury your face in your hands. "This is because I asked you to help, isn't it?" You were definitely regretting doing that now.

"Maybe," grins Ran. "I'm not here to help with interior decorating."

"Yeah, yeah, the whole spat with Silco thing," you say, sobering up. "Any word on how that's going?"

Ran shrugs. "Not much since I'm effectively sitting this one out but I don't imagine it will go on much longer. Then you'll be free of me."

"Sounds like a downside if you ask me," you say under your breath. This was the most fun you'd had in a while, threats against your life aside.

"What was that?" The smile in their eyes suggested they heard you but were going to make you say it.

"It's been nice having you around, okay? A better way to put it would be that you'll be free of me once this is over."

"You're not so bad. Sevika said you could be prickly but you haven't bitten my head off yet."

"Sevika..." You audibly exhale through your nose. "Sevika seems to think I'm worse than that." You weren't expecting to be best friends or anything, but it still bothered you just how much she disliked you.

"You've got it wrong." The bluntness has you snap your head toward Ran until they follow it up. "She likes you."

"Yeah, right." You roll your eyes. "You've said as much before but I still don't buy it."

Ran lets out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through their hair realizing they would have to connect the dots for you.

You're so dazed you don't hear the door and only half-follow the conversation after.

"Sevika, what the hell have you been doing?" says Ran before Sevika can even put her bag down.

"What?" startled, Sevika looks at them then at you. Everything had happened so fast, she didn't think about what might happen if you had so much uninterrupted time with Ran. Even when she had the chance to think about it, Sevika thought there'd be time what with how prickly you were.

Evidently she was wrong and a free-for-all bar fight would have been less scary than this.

Ran locks Sevika in place with a glare while keeping a comforting hand on your arm. "You said you were being clear."

"Thought I was," Sevika says gruffly.

You speak up for the first time. "You really don't hate me, do you?"

"What? No." Sevika puts her bag down and pulls out your desk chair—she didn't want to crowd the couch. "What's Ran been saying?" she sighs.

"That you have a crush on me." You were still processing that revelation so you don't turn it into an accusation.

"Which I had to explain because you messed it up so bad," says Ran. "I thought I was supposed to be a bodyguard, not a relationship coach."

Sevika frowns at Ran before rubbing a hand over the back of her neck and leaning forward. "It doesn't matter if I do or not—"

"It does matter!" you interrupt, snapping into focus. "You let me think you hated me for so long when it's the opposite. Why? Because that was easier?"

"You seemed happy enough," grunts Sevika. "And you don't want to get involved in in what I do."

"Coward." The temperature seems to drop as both Ran and Sevika stare at you.

"What did you call me?" Sevika bristles.

"You heard me. You're a coward." Sevika's muscles twitch.

Ran's eyes dart between you and the door, knowing what happens when someone insults Sevika to her face. "I should go…" You grab their knee, silently asking them to stay. They swallow hard but stay put, hoping they don't regret this.

If they knew Sevika would get back when she did, they'd have talked to you sooner or waited to talk to Sevika privately.

You continue. "You didn't even let me choose. Just decided for me. Again."

"Was I wrong?" Sevika growls, her jaw tight.

"Yes." For the second time that night, two sets of eyes stare at you. "You think I like feeling that way? If I was happy, I wouldn't be thinking of moving out just to get it to stop. Get away from you."

"You never said that," says Sevika quietly. Her anger doesn't disappear completely but it's no longer threatening to spill over.

"And you never said you liked me, so I guess we're even" You mentally stick your tongue out at her.

The three of you sit in tense silence, no one daring to break it. Ran missed their chance to leave unscathed, now you and Sevika were glaring at each other.

After several moments, you take a steadying breath. "I'm not going to move out. Not after I finally got my shit in order."

"Which you definitely did alone," Ran says sarcastically, testing how safe it was to speak now by throwing dynamite at it. "I didn't help at all." That has you rolling your eyes but a smile tugs at your lips.

"You two can sort it out between yourselves," you say as you walk to your room. "I'm going to bed." This was entirely too much. You didn't care that it might seem like you were running away—you were tired and maybe you were running away from this.

What Ran had patiently explained to you would have been overwhelming on its own but with Sevika showing up when she had... You hit your threshold and didn't want to think about this anymore.

"We already did." Now it was your turn to be shocked, not an easy feat in your current state but Sevika's reply had been entirely too fast.

Shooting Sevika a look, Ran clarifies. "What Sevika means is it's come up before. Not as... explosively, but... that's not what you're talking about, is it?" They catch themself but it's too late.

You turn around and stare at them. "What? No. What? You two? What?" Good thing no one else was around to see your spectacular eloquence.

"Alright, we're done," says Sevika as she pushes herself up. "You, out," she says to Ran. There'd been too many misunderstandings for one night and emotions were running high. Ran looks properly abashed and doesn't protest—ribbing Sevika was fine, but you'd been caught in the crossfire of that one.

Sevika moves to escort them out, making sure they were gone. She'd be talking to them about this mess later.

"Wait." Ran's hand hovers above the handle but the sudden steel in your voice makes them pause. Even Sevika is unprepared for your newfound conviction. "Ran can stay if they want." You stare at Sevika, daring her to counter you but a snickering breaks the tension between you before it can really build.

"Sorry," says Ran. "It just looked like you were about to fight Sevika over me and Sev looked like she would let you. I'm flattered but orders are orders." Before they can open the door, though, Sevika's hand is braces against it, keeping it shut. Ran started all this with their meddling, they could damn well see it through.

"I have no idea what's going on now and frankly I don't care," you state, all previous inhibitions worn away. "Putting it on the table: Ran, I like you. I hate to admit it but I'm glad Sevika ramrodded us together. Sevika, you should be thanking Ran. I have been stressed all week and this isn't helping so when I say I don't care, I mean it. I just want whatever this is to stop."

You should be shaking at speaking in such a way to these two but you're done—it may result in torching a relationship or two, but that was something you'd feel in the morning.

Sevika and Ran share a glance at your bluntness and how little you seemed to care about anything right now. A conversation and agreement happens between them in a matter of seconds. "I suppose I could stay," Ran says slowly, waiting to see what Sevika would say.

"That would be helpful if anyone attacked," agrees Sevika, removing her hand from the door.

"And you could use all the help you can get."

—

[Sevika] | [Ran] | [Platonic]

[First half]

[caffeinated-binturong]

[first half if you missed it]

A couple days after that, an unfortunate chain reaction ultimately rendered the pen you were using unusable. You could repair the body when there was time but you had a deadline and the nib was a lost cause. Until whatever was happening with the gangs was over, you tried to limit going out as much as you could but this wasn't something you could put off.

Luckily the event that claimed your pen's life had happened during the day when everything was open. Without browsing, you were on your way back home with plenty of time to spare—Ran hadn't even had to say anything and you were irrationally happy about that.

Perhaps that's why you weren't as aware of your surroundings as you should have been. Maybe you were distracted by the fresh air and open space. Maybe it was because the initial urgency had become an annoyance and something you only thought about when you forced yourself to. The why didn't matter when the result was letting your mind wander.

You were so caught up with yourself, you don't notice how Ran drifts back—you notice their absence but it doesn't spark the prudence it should have. You were in the Lanes, no need to fear everything.

What you miss that Ran doesn't is the person who was probably following you. She'd appeared on the way to the store and been there all the way back. Ran let you pull ahead—not enough to leave you completely undefended but enough to see what the woman would do if she thought you were alone.

The streets were busy and it could be a coincidence but when the woman starts closing in on you, Ran knows their suspicion was correct.

At the sharp clang of metal hitting metal, you whip around to see Ran, blades in hand, positioned between you and a stranger—they had forced the stranger to draw their own weapon to block an easy swing that would have been devastating if it hit.

In one act, Ran had revealed an assassin and stripped her of cover as people flee to avoid getting caught up in someone else's fight.

You were so used to seeing your bodyguard at ease, it seems like a different person standing there. They had pulled themself up to their full height, squaring their shoulders to show off both their muscles and their weapons, and somehow manages to look down on the person who dared threaten a friend.

None of the quick joy or lazy mirth is there and you couldn't have felt safer... until you see the assassin's weapon and the gravity of the situation hits. The area had cleared at the first sign of trouble so it would be easy to see someone coming at you, but you scan the places you think a sniper might be lurking.

You didn't think you were important enough for that, but you had to be sure. Had to make up for this.

It would have been easy for Ran to launch into a counterattack but they wait, reluctant to leave you even if that's what they should have done but they were used to working with someone else and you'd only brought a kitchen knife.

Their apparent hesitation changes when you give them a slight nod—the coast was clear from what you could tell. With your permission given, Ran slowly stalks forward, still not eager to leave you alone but this threat had to be dealt with.

They could tell the assassin was a novice—skilled enough to take out easy targets but had a lot to learn before she climbed the ranks—but the assassin wasn't a fool. She knew she didn't stand a chance without the element of surprise on her side.

You were supposed to be an easy mark. She didn't agree to fight one of Silco's personal lackeys.

Letting her go was a decision Ran might regret later but they had more immediate concerns.

You toss your bag on the nearest surface when you get home, the thought of work forgotten for the moment. You were shaken as much by how lax you'd become as what happened if not more so. Fights and violence were a part of life down here and you bounced back from those without trying.

Which was why you should know better than to let your guard down like that.

Ran stayed later than they usually did and when they make a strained joke about staying overnight, you don't argue. You spend the rest of the day moving mechanically, not tasting what you eat, going through the motions of your work without your usual flourishes before you finally retreat to the privacy of your bedroom.

Without anyone else around, you feel like you can finally breath and are free to allow yourself to think through the day's events. The only judgement you have to worry about is yours and it's unforgiving.

You try to sleep but it's fitful and never comes for more than a few moments. You don't know how late it is but when it happens again, you sigh and give up.

"Couldn't sleep?" asks Ran when you leave your room. Even through the curtains were drawn—you hadn't opened them since Sevika left—the perpetual neon light from outside give everything a green hue. It let you see they were sitting up and the bedding you gave them hadn't been touched.

"Could ask you the same thing." You didn't know if you were hoping for them to be awake or not but what you did know was you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts.

A door slamming rouses you from sleep but you only truly wake up when the arm that had been draped over you disappears. If not for that, you might have fallen back to sleep—or at least taken longer to come to your sense.

"What's going on?" you mumble as you sit up, rubbing your eyes. You're given a bit of a start when you see a third figure before realizing it's only Sevika, but it's enough to finish waking you up.

Sevika looks from Ran to you to back to Ran. "I need a shower," she sighs.

"Did she intentionally slam the door to wake us up?" you whisper when Sevika leaves the room.

"I should tell her what happened," says Ran as they run their fingers through their hair, getting it in some sort of order. "Unless you want to."

"Pass," you say, flopping back on your side. Someone had turned the lights on—probably Sevika—but it was still dim outside. It was too early to deal with your roommate.

Ran chuckles. "Thought so. How are you?"

"Better, I think?" There was still a gnawing guilt but none of the harsh thoughts that had been there far too recently.

"Good. Breakfast?" asks Ran as they pat your leg and get up.

"Sure," you say, stretching out to claim the new room, throwing an arm over your eyes to block out as much light as you could—it might be early but you could tell you weren't going to get anymore sleep.

—

[Sevika] | [Ranvika] | [Platonic]

[First half]

[caffeinated-binturong]

[first half if you missed it]

A couple days after that, you're busy with work while Ran is stretched out on the couch half-napping when the door handle jiggles. That small movement has you both on alert in an instant.

Exchanging a quick glance before both of you watch the door, Ran easily slides one of their blades free while you reach for your pistol only to find the drawer you usually have it in empty. With a silent curse, you glance in Ran's direction again.

You didn't doubt Ran's abilities but you'd feel more comfortable if you weren't completely helpless, but the item that would help with that is sitting on the coffee table.

Silently cursing yourself for getting distracted, you slink to the floor and slowly start crawling over to the table. Ran's ahead of you, already in a low combative stance with their second blade already drawn. It wasn't intentional but you absently approve of the positioning—now you just had to reach your gun.

You flinch as something thumps against the ground outside followed by familiar profanities. The tension dissipates as a key enters the lock and Ran straightens out, standing as if nothing had happened. You're not so lucky and when Sevika stomps in, you're still on hands and knees to greet her. She raises an eyebrow when she sees you before giving Ran a quick nod—if she was aware of the panic she'd caused, she wasn't sorry about it.

"I'm going to take a shower," she grumbles, tossing her stuff to the floor while you stand up.

When the bathroom door clicks, you walk over to Ran. "See what I have to deal with?" you whisper.

"Doesn't seem too bad," they whisper back.

"Not bad?!" You almost raise your voice enough to be heard over the running water.

Ran shrugs apologetically as they leave—now that Sevika was back, their job was done, even if you thought they were a bit too quick to get out of there.

When Sevika steps out of the bathroom, toweling her hair dry, you're aggressively focused on work. When you hear her start to put her boots back on, you snap.

"Didn't you just get back?"

She ignores how you said it and focuses only on your question. "Have to do a few things." You feel your grip tighten on your pen as a second person dips out in short order without much of an explanation.

By the time Sevika gets back, you were done work and had curled up to read a textbook of all things to calm down, a glass of wine stood there helping. You could almost forget about things when your roommate steps in the door and you feel your blood pressure rise.

She hadn't been gone long—less than two weeks—but the absence was long enough to notice the reaction and make you wonder if that always happened. You were going to let it go after the night you were having and she always disappeared into her room but she sits by your feet instead.

"Well I just got an earful," Sevika says, grabbing your glass and downing the remainder.

"Screw something up that badly, huh?" you say, staring at the now-empty glass.

"Maybe." Again, she ignores your antagonism and doesn't actually say anything.

"Wasn't this whole thing because someone else screwed up?"

Sevika frowns at that. "Cleaned that up without issue," she says as if it was obvious she would.

"Then what?" you demand. An entire evening spent tamping down on your frustration amounts to nothing. "You put me at risk, disappear, come back saying you screwed something up and somehow it has nothing to do with your job? What else would it be? I'm not a mind-reader, Sevika, you have to actually say things."

You feel your heart race as you prepare for a fight, perhaps an all-out brawl. If it came to that, you wouldn't win but you could make it hurt. What you didn't expect was her response.

"… You're right," Sevika says. The shock of the admission stills your tongue for a moment, letting her continue without interruption. "Ran said the same thing. And told me I was being an idiot."

"When did you—?! You know what, never mind. What's important is two people think you're an idiot and you aren't arguing about it."

"You never said you were thinking of moving out." She actually sounded hurt.

How much had Ran passed along? "Thought you'd be happy to hear that."

"Why would I be happy?"

"You clearly don't like me, this way you could live on your own or with someone you do like."

Sevika lets out a deep, mirthless laugh. "I do like you."

"... In what way?"

"Thought I was being clear about that but apparently I need to say it because 'some people might assume otherwise.'"

If you hadn't been sitting, you'd have fallen from sudden vertigo. It wasn't so much the confession that got you but how it rewrote so many past interactions. You didn't know how far it went back but it threw into question your interpretation of events.

That would account for Ran's reaction, though.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" you say without your usual pithiness.

"I... don't know," admits Sevika.

"I've spent so long thinking you hated me and now you're saying it's the opposite?" Your voice is tight, your mind still reeling. "I can't just forget all that, true or not."

"... Got it," Sevika sighs. "I'll start moving out in the morning."

Oh, this is what she was talking about screwing up. You grab her metal wrist before she can stand. "I didn't say that."

She doesn't pull away like you feared she would, sitting there as neutrally as she could while you decide what you want. You'd given up on your crush on her when you thought she had no interest and buried those feelings until they were gone.

It was a secret you'd never told anyone and it was clear now those feelings weren't as absent as you thought.

"I wish you said something sooner." You rub your thumb over the hard surface as you think where to go from here. "I... don't know what to do."

"That makes two of us."

"I wouldn't have been such an ass if I knew."

Sevika chuckles. "You still would have been."

"Probably. But a bit less." With your free hand, you pinch the air, keeping your thumb and pointer finger close but not quite touching—joking with Sevika was a new experience and one you didn't hate. "Maybe we could start over?"

"Don't think it works that way."

"No, it doesn't." Both of you were resigned. This was more than an unfavourable first impression, to really sort this out would take time. Then an idea hits. "Maybe we could pretend."

"Yeah?" Sevika's voice is still constrained but there's an element of hope in it now.

"Sure. Can't say what things will be like tomorrow, but it's late and I have a woman who makes chem-barons take notice sitting on my couch—it would be rude to kick her out."

"I think the couch is mine." Whether she was smirking at that or what you said, you found you didn't care—if she was game, so were you.

"I'm not sure about that. Perhaps we should discuss it further."

—

[Ran] | [Ranvika] | [Platonic]

[First half]

[caffeinated-binturong]

I'm playing leapfrog with these endings, I swear.

But, if all goes well, the whole thing will be done and posted in 3-4 days. 5 if there's a day I absolutely can't focus.

(This post brought to you by setting something in faux stone so I don't go and chip away at something else instead of finishing. Again.)

[caffeinated-binturong]

Unrelated but I've definitely noticed a shift on my part more toward Ran recently. I still have a number of Sevika fics in the queue and I'm not dropping her but it gave me pause when the rough Sevika chapter of one fic was 600 words with effort while the Ran one was over 1300 words and I could have kept going.

That and how I have multiple fics are early enough in development where I'm considering switching the focus to Ran since that's a change that wouldn't affect much.

It hasn't quite reached "Blorbo from my show" levels but I do have a document of headcanons—complete with references to the show where applicable—for them for consistency's sake...

[caffeinated-binturong]

Sometimes it feels like I'm not doing much of anything because I'm not a frequent poster, then I look at how I've been working on multiple multi-part fics and sure I'm not posting a ~2k word fic once or twice a week but it's not like I'm doing nothing—I'm just fleshing out and refining fics with 3-??? parts (longest so far is 9 but is unfinished) where each part is 1k-4k words.

Which is to say, don't base your worth as a writer on (public) quantity no matter what your brain says because your brain may be ignoring all the work you are doing.

[caffeinated-binturong]

The Morning Paper

Elora x Reader

Synopsis: Having completed a job, you're enjoying a well-earned break and waiting to hand off what you found. Genre: Fluff POV: Second Warnings: None Word count: 658

—

Against the background noise of water lapping at cliffs and the cries of gulls, you sip on coffee while reading the day's paper. This far into spring, even with a light breeze, it's comfortable to be sitting outside and the smell itself is mild compared to other places nearer the harbour. It may lack the closer view of the hexgate but it's so much quieter and a better way to spend your morning than the alternatives.

The privacy afforded by fewer eyes and ears is something you value even above ambiance, at least for handing over what you found. Other cafés were better situated if one wanted a view or to watch people on the docks, but this one made it easier to notice if anyone was trying to listen in.

Best of all, people minded their own business and didn't ask too many questions—the last thing you wanted was someone who meant well pointing the finger at you.

Keeping your business above board was something you tried to do but it wasn't always possible and you weren't under any illusions that it was less than legal at times. You also fully knew people you were used as a buffer and people would sell you out if pressed. It was all a calculated risk.

The higher profile the client was, the riskier it was for you so you vetted people before agreeing to do work for them but that didn't mean you never did—you just didn't fancy getting caught up in a scandal.

"Morning," you say when your associate arrives, putting down the paper to focus on her. Part of it is for appearances, part of it is to study her reactions, and part of it is because you genuinely like her.

"Good morning," Elora replies, matching your smile with her own. "Have I kept you long?"

"Not particularly. Have the day off so I'm in no rush." You stretch to illustrate how relaxed you are.

The barista drops off Elora's tea and makes a swift exit despite no one else waiting at the counter. "I'm envious. It's been a busy morning for me."

"The life of a councilor's assistant is never easy." There was no use pretending otherwise—Elora was too visible and though you didn't think anyone was close enough to listen in, it would seem strange if you didn't know what your friend did when it was so easy to check.

"No it is not," she chuckles quietly to herself. "So, anything good in today's paper?"

"Most is the usual gossip and fluff pieces," you lament. "But there's something in the business section about the clans and trade. I couldn't make sense of it but maybe you can."

Elora takes the section you slide over to her. "I'll have a look at it later."

"Don't have much time to sit down these days, do you?" you ask as you take a sip of your drink. "Bit of a shame."

"Not since the hexgate was finished," she sighs.

The two of you keep chatting until duty calls Elora away but not before agreeing to meet up again in a week's time. Maybe it would be casual, maybe it would be business, so much could change in so little time.

This wasn't the first time you did work for Elora—or rather Mel—but it had proven to involve more legwork this time than you initially thought. Not that you minded that when working for someone who knew how this game was played and your results and discretion were well-compensated for.

After carefully folding up the remains of your paper, you take the empty cups to the counter. "Have a good one," you smile at the barista as you drop a few coins in the tip jar before heading out. Word was a book you were waiting for was finally returned to the library and you were eager to check it out.

—

A/N: Just a small thing because Elora holds a special place in my heart and so little was done with the information network she had to have built. I would have loved to see that and all the politicking she had to have done.