Sooo this is uber uber uber as in should've been signed, sealed, and delivered in May late but hey, better late then never. That said I wanna wish my favorite She-Devil a happy belated birthday. I told you I had a birthday present for you! As for the one shot I recently fell in love with Neffex and when I heard this song Miraxus just kinda popped into my head. So yeah, I'll leave you with that bit of info and go bury in myself in a hole for disappearing for several weeks.
Rumors
Music booms across the darkened club, only barely being surpassed by the volume of the people present.
Hidden in a corner seat beside two others is a guy dressed in a dark black sleeveless muscle shirt showing off part of a tribal tattoo over his left shoulder. His short blonde hair is slicked back in small short spikes allowing the lightning-shaped scar over his right eye to be clearly visible. As orange eyes wander over the crowd dancing in the middle of the floor, a black leather boot taps in time with the music.
Despite the conversation coming from his companions he ignores them, instead, zoning in on the white-haired beauty stepping onto the dance floor. The way her hips, snugly draped by the tight black knee length skirt, sway attempts to draw his eyes. With great effort he pulls them up, away from the tempting curves and over her creamy back, bare save a couple thin strings used to fasten the top of the dress.
She turns, appearing to have found someone to dance with. He doesn't miss the chance to look over the large amount of skin revealed by the dip of the dress reaching down her thin but well-toned stomach.
The woman is beautiful, he won't deny it, but the dress is only part of the make up, merely drawing his gaze up until his eyes manage to lock onto hers. Why she could possibly be looking in his direction is beyond him. What isn't is the lure her ice blue eyes seem to have over him.
From behind him one of his friend's guffaws. "Laxus, you can't possibly be looking to go after Mirajane."
Mirajane? Is that her name? If it is, he decides, the name fits her as well as that dress does. Damn. The way she swings those hips must be illegal.
He glances back, lifting the glass in front of him and grunts. His friend sputters.
"She'll chew you up and spit you out."
Laxus arches an eyebrow. "What the fuck are you talking about, Freed?"
His green haired friend points at the platinum-haired beauty, his expression stern. "That right there is Mirajane Strauss. She's known in this club as She-Devil and for good reason. When she comes out to hunt the guy that lands her is about as lucky as horses set for the slaughterhouse."
When he sees movement from the corner of his eye he looks to his other friend, only to find him nodding as well.
"It's true, L. I heard she's a great fuck but afterward she's as cold as ice. She's only in it for the night and if anyone tries to chase her a second time they end up in the hospital or worse."
He turns away, his eyes once more landing on the woman now grinding up against her dance partner. The way she moves, the way she holds herself, it calls to him. A desire to prove his friends wrong rumbles in his gut. Watching her, he gets the feeling there's more to the woman than just the eye-catching beauty.
The blonde frowns. When the music begins to change he glances back at his worried friends. "Then I guess I'll just be chewed up and spit out." He pushes his glass to the middle of the table and gets up. "Bicks, don't do anything to get arrested, I'm not gonna be the one paying your bail again. Freed, for fuck's sake find a guy and get laid."
Hearing his friend whine as he walks away, Laxus chuckles, amused that he can still pick on his childhood friend after so long. Though thoughts of his friends and other things flee his mind once he steps onto the dance floor. He's not dumb, he knows his physique will earn more than a few glances from men and women alike but his sole attention is on the platinum-haired beauty now dancing by herself.
A part of his mind cheers at the fact that she turned down the would-be suitor.
Like a dragon on the prowl, he approaches. Confidence tinged only the slightest bit by arrogance controls his gait. Before he knows it he's upon her, one hand stretched to gently tap on her shoulder.
She turns, ice blue eyes appraising him at a glance and he grins, holding the extended hand to her.
"Would you like to dance, Miss?" He's gonna pretend he hasn't heard any of what his friends told him. Pretend not to know that she could just as easily strike down his offer as accept it.
She arches an eyebrow and it looks likes at first she'll reject him. To his relief instead, she smiles coyly, taking his hand with a soft laugh.
"Of course. Lead the way—" She leaves it open, not knowing his name.
Laxus grins, gently pulling her around as the song slows. "Laxus."
She holds one hand over her mouth to quiet a giggle and sets the other on his shoulder. "Mirajane but my friends call me Mira."
He sees it as they spin under one of the roaming lights. Her ice cold blue eyes belying the streak of steel underneath. Every step, every spin they take in sync has him drawn further into the mystique that is this beauty. Her flawless grace, while accenting her elegant moves, has his attention. Each little bit adding more to the character of the woman.
Deciding to push his luck he leans forward, orange eyes on hers. "What brings an angel like you here?"
Mirajane giggles, leaning up to bring her lips closer to his ear.
"What makes you think I'm an angel?" He growls and the noise rumbles through his chest. When she feels the vibration her smile darkens. "Oh, sugar, a growl isn't gonna scare me."
Once more he grins, this time leaning down to bite at her shoulder. The act catches her off guard and she gasps, a shudder running through her. His chest rumbles with a different kind of vibration, this one closer to laughter. His lips trail along her bare shoulder, stopping to hover by her ear.
"I never said I was looking for an angel." Laxus' grip on her hips tightens and they get lost in a whirl of heat and grinding bodies.
His senses are overtaken by everything that is her. His nose floods with the scent of her watermelon and mango perfume. Ice blue eyes refuse to let his gaze wander. Curious hands barely tell the difference between silky skin and the silk of her dress. The fast-paced club music is quickly drowned out by her soft panting in his ear.
When the music begins to slow he bites her again, this time on the opposite shoulder to gain her attention. Mirajane looks up, eyes wide with lust and excitement.
With her eyes no longer as cold as ice Laxus finds her expression to be almost innocent. An intriguing fact he takes into account as he leans closer. "What do you say we take this somewhere else?"
Later he'll say she purrs. Later he'll say her eyes flash between a heaven and hell he'd gladly visit...later is not now.
Now they can't tell who is pushing and pulling each other toward the exit. Their minds don't register the glaring jealousy from other dancers, they don't see the way they're looked upon in envy.
He leads her out into the parking lot where a set of three motorcycles sit in a parking spot. As they climb on one she doesn't see the spectacular orange and yellow lightning bolt stretching from front to rear fender nor does she have time to focus on the way the engine roars to life in seconds.
The ride flies by in a blur of wind and speed and before she knows it, he's pulling up in front of a four-floor apartment complex. Making their way up the stairs they're a whirl of laughter and open-mouthed kisses challenging each other to turn things up a notch. She doesn't know when he finds the time to unlock the door to his apartment, it seems as if his lips never leave hers.
Laxus doesn't realize they're in his apartment, let alone his room until she's pulling his shirt off in a flurry of motion that has him growling in lust. He catches her wrists, looking down into sapphire blue eyes.
"Who said you were in charge?"
She grins, leaning forward. "I did. What are you gonna do about it?"
A chuckle rumbles through his chest and he leans down, his tongue running up the skin of her cheek to her earlobe. "Bring it, She-Devil."
XxX
The next morning when he wakes up, it's to his phone ringing. He keeps his eyes closed as he reaches to the nightstand, quickly finding the device within reach and lifts up to view the screen.
Laxus squints at first, his eyes focusing on the bright screen before he can make sense of the notifications. Realizing it's a call he answers it with a mumbled hello.
"Oh, so you finally decided to wake up." When he recognizes who it is he draws a hand down his face.
"What the fuck do you want, Bicks?"
On the other side, Bickslow cackles. "Sounds like you had a rough night. Though at least you're alive. How was the demon?"
Laxus sits up, pulling the blanket off his legs to stumble to the bathroom. As he relieves himself his mind goes back to the night before and his back flares in reminder. He grins. "I had a better night then you did. Since you're calling me you must not have found trouble to get into."
His friend grunts. "I found trouble alright, just didn't get caught. Anyway, stop changing the subject. How. Was. She?"
The blonde scowls, wandering back into his bedroom to look for a pair of shorts to pull on. When he finds a semi-clean pair he leaves the bedroom in search of coffee. Thinking about the hot lines running across his back his scowl turns into a smirk.
"Whip marks." He grumbles, stating one of the words he and his friends use to rate their nightly visitors. On the other side Bickslow whistles.
"Damn, I envy you. I haven't had one of those in awhile. I think I might try for her next time we go to the club."
After he sets the coffee pot to brewing his phone beeps. He pulls it away to view the screen, arching an eyebrow at the message before putting back to his ear. "Hey, do you know where the Plutogrim Shooting Range is?"
Bickslow stops his mumbling about thinking of plans. The phone falls quiet for a minute then, "Yeah, it's about three miles outside the city. We pass it on the way to the quarter-mile. Why do you ask?"
"No reason." He can tell his bland answer ruffles his friend's feathers but as he jogs back to his room he finds he doesn't quite care. Not when the text is burning itself into his memory.
"Laxus, why do you wanna know?"
Pulling out a pair of black jeans he sighs, putting the phone on speaker as he puts it down on top of his dresser. He glances at the time and curses, grabbing a shirt from one of the drawers.
"Look, I ain't got time to explain. Are you going to the quarter mile tonight?"
"Duh, it's the semifinals. We're going up against your cousin and his modded bike. Speaking of which, did you hear he was pulling eights last night?"
Laxus rolls his eyes. While hearing about his metalhead cousin pulling such a ridiculously fast time down the track is important he's more focused on trying to get out of his apartment. The time on his phone is ticking down way too quickly for his liking but he knows he'll be able to make it if he pushes his bike past its limits. That thought brings another to mind and as he picks up his phone he frowns.
"Hey, don't forget you have to adjust Ever's bike. Her engine was burning a little hot last week for my liking."
On the other side, Bickslow is quiet. He doesn't hear another peep from his friend until he's grabbing his helmet and locking his door.
"L, you're running tonight. Did you forget Evergreen's bike blew up Wednesday?"
The blonde pauses on the landing to the second floor, glaring at the parking lot. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"
"I'm sorry, I thought you knew!"
He groans, speed walking down the last set of steps to the parking lot. "Text me the info and I'll look at it in a bit. I'll be pulling into the track about six, make sure you're there with the trailer."
"And this leads back to my earlier question. Why are you going to the shooting range instead of the quarter mile to prep your bike for the run?"
With a roll of his eyes, Laxus settles onto his bike. "Again, I will tell you tonight. For now, just gather the crew and I'll meet you at the quarter mile at six. Now I gotta go or I'll be late."
"Late for—" He hangs up before his friend can finish. He glances at the time only once more before he shoves his phone in his pocket and zips it up. Pulling his helmet on, he starts the bike, more than glad when it turns over with a loud roar.
With a quiet prayer to the gods, he zips out of the parking lot, keeping low to the bike to decrease the air friction and increase his speed. The gods must hear his prayers because not once is he stopped by a light on his way out of the city, even if he does hear a few horns now and then.
On the three-mile strip of road outside the city, he opens the throttle. The roar of the engine in return calms his nerves. Zipping around the few cars on the two-lane road isn't a problem. Going too fast to nearly miss the turn for the range is. He scowls, whipping a U-turn and slows down as he approaches. This time he sees the sign stating Plutogrim Shooting Range with the o's appearing to be bullet holes on a red background.
Turning onto the road, his bike slows to down to what would be a crawl for a car and he takes in the sight of the low roof building blocking the range itself from the road. In the parking lot in front of the building, he sees only two other vehicles.
One is a bright red truck, the body lifted to nearly five feet off the ground. The cherry red coat shines in the morning light, a set of tribal pinstripes traveling from chassis to the tailgate of the extended bed. Laxus casts it a careful once-over, more than able to appreciate the finer details the owner seems to have put painstaking care into.
The other vehicle, however, catches his attention more than the truck does simply because it is something he's extremely knowledgeable in. The dark green motorcycle gleaming with what he knows to be a fresh wax as if the owner had done it just that morning or the day before.
Unlike his own crotch rocket designed for speeding down the quarter mile at hundreds of miles, the dark green bike is made for longer and more leisurely rides on long winding roads, though he knows from experience if tested it can push a good speed. More than enough to contest an unmodded racer.
As he pulls in beside the dark green, he takes notice of the overlapping metal creating an armored look on both front and rear fenders. Over the handlebars, the overlapping metal pattern changes to look more similar to long horns then armor. Off of one horn hangs a dark green and black helmet, the design painted on to match the armored look of the bike.
He sets the kickstand down and killing the engine, takes off his helmet. Only now does he hear the rapid report of a gun being fired. Who it is, he has a pretty good idea. Why here, he can't wait to find out.
Tying his helmet to his bike he walks into the building. When he approaches the counter a woman with black hair wearing a white headband looks up from the magazine she's reading. She frowns, blowing a bubble with the gum she's chewing and pops it.
"Are you Laxus?" He grunts in agreement and she throws a thumb over her shoulder at a door leading to the back of the building. "She's out back trying out some of the weapons we got in. If you know what's good for you, you'll wait until she runs out of ammo."
Laxus nods and walks out the back door, first looking to his left then his right to find the platinum-haired woman from the previous night wearing ear muffs and rapid firing a pistol at a target. He approaches slowly, one eye on the target resembling swiss cheese, the other on Mirajane.
When the Glock clicks to show an empty magazine she sets it down and removes her ear muffs. At first, they're both quiet, wondering if the other is gonna speak first. Until she looks up and grins.
"Thought you weren't gonna show up."
He shrugs, looking out over the empty range. "Kinda hard to be here at 11:30 when it's a forty-five-minute ride and you get the message five minutes after the hour." Then he smirks, giving her a side glance. "Still, it was fun to test my bike."
She hums, turning back to the weapons laid out before her and begins to take apart the Glock she had been firing. He doesn't miss the light blush on her cheeks.
After a minute he turns to her.
"Why?"
It's a word that could be taken in any number of ways. Still, as she had been the night before she seems to be able to read his mind and shrugs. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors. That I'm cold-hearted and cruel. That I only go to Fairy Tail to look for a good time."
Dismantling the gun with practiced ease, she pauses to glance at a certain part then, "Sometimes I am, other times I'm looking for someone. Someone who won't see me as just a trophy and is crazy enough to be able to keep up."
Her expression tightens into a grimace and she looks up, ice blue eyes locking onto orange. "Every time I find someone who fits the bill they end up showing their true colors and then I rip them a new one and send them on their way. That's why people assume I'm kind of cold-hearted demon."
That catches his attention. Everything she's saying reverberates with him in a way he's more than familiar with, something he too is too used to. He arches an eyebrow, stepping closer to her.
"Then why pick me? Why tell me to meet you here? Why not just forget all about me?"
Mirajane smirks, lifting another gun and pointing it at him. When he doesn't flinch she sets it back down, turning to lean against the counter. "That is why. It takes a special kind of someone to be willing to approach me. That and the sex was pretty good last night."
Again he steps forward, completely blocking any chance of her escaping. Though he knows she still has the upper hand. He leans down, his eyes narrow. "What are you gonna do about it?"
"It depends on if you can keep up." She shrugs, her expression darkening mischievously.
And he grins, one arm reaching behind her to pull her closer. "We'll see about that, Mirajane, because you can't lose me that easily."
Happy Belated Birthday Mir!
Grizzly out for the night.