Quick things to know before you dig in: I'm fighting another writer's block. I'm trying really hard to win because I cannot go back there. I can't. Secondly, this goes out to Sonya, Emily and Sara and Rhea.

And lastly, The Phoenix by FOB from their new album is SUCH a Laxus/Mirajane song. Fight me.

death valley

In thirty seconds Laxus hesitates in battle. In those thirty seconds he decides this:

She looks like the bringer of the apocalypse.

Not these dragons—not Zeref—not Acnologia. They are but puzzle pieces falling into place; the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Not important to the entire ordeal, never mind that they are killing innocent people left and right.

She looks like the bringer of the apocalypse.

Mirajane.

The Demon.

Demon Mirajane.

She looks fucking beautiful bathed in blood, bright blue eyes growing dark with rage and venom. She flies into the battle zone with death as her shadow, claws curled and ready to rip hearts—break bones like promises.

Laxus decides this is what makes him growl, when he sees Mira. He decides that this is what he searches for when he is purposely rude to her without a reason at all. The dark shadows in her eyes where she attempts to tame the demon inside, the sound of her molars grinding and the hiss that escapes from the corner of her lips.

He rolls out of the way, grunting as he stands back up and watches the space where he had stood crumble at the weight and sheer force of a dragon. Electricity crackles around him and Laxus narrows his eyes, lips curled back in a sneer as he spares Mira a glance.

She fights with grace; like dancing tango, swaying her hips in a seductive way yet still managing to remain so innocent with a blush dusting her cheeks and how is it fucking possible to be so mesmerized by such a broken being.

A demon lost inside the mind of a girl; tamed and chained and locked away and only allowed out when its tamer grows enraged and possessive. But then, another side of him supposes, but then that is what Laxus looks for—broken pieces for him to fix, dirty up with his sins and then fix it all up until the perfectionist within him is satiated.

And to fix a broken demon like Mirajane Strauss would be the most satisfying, most therapeutic thing that Laxus could ever, ever accomplish.

He watches her fall from the sky, slamming onto the earth and making a crater for her deathbed. She doesn't move for what seems like forever but are nothing but ten seconds in his own hesitation in battle. She stands, crooked and cracking every kink in her body, like being possessed and lost—a battle lost against a beast from an entire different world.

She convulses, neck cracking, claws twitching at her side. Her hair is white like snow, chunks of dirt and blood tangled in the strands.

Laxus shakes his head and furrows his brow, spitting blood and sprinting towards a dragon, gulping air as he aims a Lightning Dragon's Roar.

Mirajane is sweet like poison and when this is all over—when they win and are bloodied and bruised and broken, he will pick up all her pieces, lick every single one and put her back together just to break her and do it all over again until he reaches her core, leaves his burning mark and force her to never let him go.