A/N: I'm so bad at fanfics and especially AU's but for sanity's sake just pretend the Farron sisters are twins in modern day pls and ty.

1

Serah's lips are warm. Claire knows that, and knows that such a detail isn't something that she should know about her twin. It's like a misshapen puzzle piece, that somehow belonged in the picture. Because the detail was... wrong. Morally, it was wrong. But it just felt right anyways.

Clair "Lightning" Farron had always been a girl of intuition. No one realized it because she hid her superstitions behind brute force and cold eyes, but yes, even the pink haired menace was wary of superstitions. Somewhat fitting, for a yakuza. She wasn't burly like those who worked for her, a slender figure compact with hard-worked muscles, a sleeveless white chiffon shirt, unbuttoned just a bit to show her assets. A crowbar on her back for the poor sucker who decided to look. This girl was a animal among the beasts of Shinjuku. She was a name spoken in households as myth, the Pink Haired Demon, because no one saw her arrive, and no one knew she was gone until the damage was done. Her face was cold (but Serah saw it as gentle), eyes a striking blue-green that paralyzed her tenants with fear daily.

But Serah kissed each eyelid before they went to bed, anyways.

The younger (by three fucking minutes) Farron wasn't the exact opposite of hr lover. She shared the same pinkish hair, in a traditional bun as opposed to her sisters neck-length cut. And no, she wasn't as overly scary as her sister. Her face was soft, full of expression but very composed, with long lashes and pouty lips that Lightning seemed to loathe because with a face like that, she could never say no. But behind slender fingers, made to play piano, eyes of jade and lavender scented perfume, laid a monster of itself. Not many would ever be able to tell who the more dangerous sister was, because Serah had only shown her skill with knives on one special occasion, when she and Light were still teens, and the elder twin came home with bruises that she didn't talk about.

Serah was never one for pleasantries, anyways.

Maybe that's how their insidious game started. Lightning only did what felt right, and Serah wanted something that she couldn't have. She wanted a taste of a fruit forbidden, even if her soul be damned. Lightning didn't question when the rosette crawled into her bed, cheeks wet with false tears. "Nightmare." she'd whisper, before wrapping her arms around the older girl. These visits became more frequent, but sparse enough that Light didn't exactly care. She was a loving sister in secret. Not overly affectionate like Serah, but not opposed to it either.

Snow was the reason for their first kiss. The bruises that the eldest teen came home with were from him because he and Claire were like an ongoing storm. Beautiful, but destructive. They were both yakuza legends in their own right and both craved an affection that no one else could offer. But when she saw those bruises.

Let's just say, the white haired Boar had to take some time off. No one was arrested, despite the obvious stab wounds he harbored. He wouldn't even give a name. Because no one could know that he'd been bested by a teenage psychopath who worked part time in a maid cafe.

Serah had guessed, and she didn't shy away from Lightning's kisses after that. She would never hide her feelings, after her sister had went to such lengths to protect her.

There's some kind of routine to her daily life. Wake up before the sun fully rises, jog and shower, just to come downstairs to a well-made breakfast and polite and benign conversation before she went off to work. Claire's morning routine was cherished and not even the sordid nights would change that. Ever since their parents had passed, the twins looked after each other. Claire worked odd jobs, kept the lights on and scared the landlord whenever he'd pressure them to pay earlier. And in return, Serah made Claire smile. She retained her purity, the light that drew her in every night and woke her up every morning.

There's a routine to the sex, that's quiet and just wrong but they do it anyways. It's always a innocent question, or benign smile that starts it and it's almost always Serah. She's better at being coy, seductive. She cleans in her underwear just to tease Claire sometimes, bites her lower lip and pouts in a way that makes her heart curl, just to get a rouse out of the otherwise stoic queen. And this continues throughout the day, until they turn in for the night.

She always reminds Serah how much she 'loves' her with the bruises, the manicured nails at her throat and the excited tongue probing her navel, her thighs, tasting, hungering for more. That's the routine for them. Serah starts a fire every morning, and Claire just doesn't stop. Not when her legs are shut tight and her moans are weak and raspy, begging for more. There's no little "I love yous" in those kisses, because she wants to set her sister ablaze. Her bites would burn and the spanks would leave bruises for her boyfriends to find, because Claire had to make it known somehow, that no matter what may happen, Serah loved her.

She would burn both of them to a fine crisp, if it felt good.