I just don't know, okay? This was a random spazz attack and I blame a CERTAIN PERVERT completely. Because this is based off her experiences. She told me about it, and I thought it fit this pairing pretty well.
And you know who you are, pervert. -glare-
…you better you better you bet!
Warnings: Insane Marluxia, improper use of cleaning solvents, non-con, and yaoi.
I am soooo going to hell.
And I'll see you guys there! Hee hee, I'm kidding. Mostly.
Disclaimer: If I owned it, there would be much more improper use of chemicals. 'Cause it's fun.
And Kairi and Namine probably wouldn't exist. They're distracting.
And if they did exist, Kairi's dress wouldn't have been made for "easy access".
And if I did own it, ever yaoi fan on the planet would clamor for it. It would be that hot.
--
"OMG! IS THIS REALLY THE VEXEN'S EMAIL ADRRESS?! (If it isn't, I sincerely apologize) I'M LIKE YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN! So, I was thinking, we both live in New York, right? Would you please please please sign my book? Meet me at the 83 Subway tomorrow at 6 pm?
Love ya, mate!
Marluxia"
Vexen stared in horror at the screen. He did NOT want to be raped, so he simply deleted the message and pretended it never happened and went on with his life, going back to the new novel he was writing, "Falling Through the Space Time Continuum (A/N: That's actually how it's spelled, spell check says so!)". Vexen could spin a tale of love and lust so quickly it could make your head spin, so he kept his trusty laptop on him pretty much all the time, and somehow this "Marluxia" person had got a hold of his e-mail address. 'Don't think about it, it never happened.' Vexen repeated in his mind for the rest of the day, effectively keeping him from forgetting the incident.
Marluxia didn't forget about it either. When Vexen didn't show up within 5 minutes of the meet time, he left and went to the apartment complex he had followed Vexen to just the other day.
For a nationally famous author, he really didn't seem to care too much for security. Hell, the apartment complex didn't even have a lockable gate that you needed a key to get into! Besides, you'd think that if you sold novels so well, you wouldn't be living in such a crappy apartment. But since when did authors make sense?
Marluxia sat in the car outside of the complex, waiting for the familiar blonde head to pop out a window or from one of the cars. Today, Marluxia hoped to learn Vexen's room number, and that cannot be a good thing in this man's hands. He was completely obsessed with the author. As soon as he had found out that he lived relatively close, he knew he had to have him.
It really didn't make sense to anyone but Marluxia, so this is one of those things that people are better off not pondering, this guy had serious mental problems and was definitely off his meds.
Marluxia sat there for what felt like hours, because it was, and was just about to give up when he saw it. A streak of gold reflecting the light from the sun. He grinned madly, Vexen had just left his car and was going up to his room. Marluxia exited his own car and followed quietly behind Vexen, acting as natural as was possible for any man.
Vexen suddenly veered right, turning down a pathway that was not visible from almost anywhere in the immediate area, and then it hit Marluxia. This man did actually have some protection set up against people like him.
But that was fine, Marluxia was practically a pro at this by now, he had done this same thing to quite a few people, but always got off on charges due to his mental problems. The only reason that Marluxia wasn't in a loony bin was because none of them wanted to take him on. He actually had a reputation.
So, instead, they sent a case worker down to him at random times to make sure he was taking his meds and no doing any "extra-curricular activities". They hadn't been down in a while, since the last time those "anti-insanity bastards" had come about, he had thrown a half-dead cat at them.
Yeah.
He's that bad.
So, Marluxia did manage to make it to the room that the blonde resided in, still without being discovered. It wasn't protected any farther than the hidden path, Marluxia was slightly disappointed. He had been hoping for more of a challenge. But hell, rape was rape.
He scribbled the room number and a basic map down in his arm, deciding that he would come back tonight with rag and a bottle of chloroform.
Because you can't go wring with chloroform!
Marluxia giggled silently to himself as he thought of his motto. He had always rather liked it.
He ran back to his car, still as quietly as he possibly could, and opened the door and hopped in. Her heard a hissing noise, so he reached underneath himself and removed a cat from his seat, throwing it over his shoulder into the backseat and not giving it a second thought.
When Vexen entered his room, he thought he heard a rusting outside the door. He whipped around and studied the bushes carefully, and upon seeing that it was nothing, closed and locked the door. He locked it because he had always been a rather paranoid person. It was hereditary, his mom had been schizophrenic, not so bad as to get her thrown in a nut-house, but enough that she would attempt to avoid contact from anyone she didn't know very well.
That's really why Vexen had really never gotten to know his dad, he had given up on her and left them when Vexen was still a bun in the oven. He had, though, learned about Vexen's birth and had paid child support like a good little man. Vexen didn't really have anything against his dad, he just didn't know him.
After about ten seconds of standing there blankly, Vexen decided now was the time for sleep. He undressed on he spot and walked throughout his, rather large, apartment in just his underwear, searching for his bed.
He could never remember where he put that thing.
He found it after a bit, and collapsed upon it. He was asleep almost instantly, snoring loudly.
Marluxia arrived home after a rather short and uneventful car ride, and immediately went to work preparing the items he would need for tonight. He found the chloroform on the top shelf of the mirror cabinet in the bathroom, and found a cloth in the living room under his bed, next to a cat that lashed out at him. (A/N: I just picture him like the crazy cat lady from The Simpsons, for no real reason at all :D) He looked at it for a moment, then decided he better wash it if he wanted it to work properly.
--
I have pretty much lost motivation on this, but if you want it continued, post a comment.
I'll love you forever? -puppy dog eyes-
…yeah, I don't think that's a good argument either.
But review anyway?
And again, I'm sorry for my failure at liiiiiiife! -hides in emo corner-