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deyisacherry · 4 months

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Striked by Stars — (DCA -Sun & Moon- x Reader. Cyberpunk AU)

(title might change)

[Just an idea. Possible Chapter 1]

Your foot taps the floor anxiously, you stare at your tired reflection in the vending machine's glass, waiting for the damn thing to work once and for all. Finally, it makes an almost hopeful sound, while you notice how the food package begins to move forward.

You can already imagine the sweet flavor of the cake, satisfying the hunger you have endured for at least 38 hours.

... Yeah, it's not easy to get something to eat in this city. Or anywhere really.

Your illusion is shattered when the package jams just before it's dropped, and the neon lights go out followed by a stupid, pathetic noise.

You kick the huge "box" angrily, without even getting a shake efficient enough to get your snack out of there... dinner? Whatever.

And of course, the great multimillion-dollar company in charge of creating most of the technology in your district had to make sure that the glass was resistant to prevent theft. That's why it was still here, and also why it barely worked. You suspect you're not the only person who's kicked this thing.

You curse every living thing left and give the device one last blow, before turning to leave the alley and walk towards your vehicle.

Wonderful. Another couple of hours you'll have to go without feeding.

Hell, sometimes you wish you were one of those Sentinel robots just so you wouldn't have to worry about eating. Of course, that was the only reason. The thought of becoming a robotic slave with no life decisions of your own made you nauseous.

You had no choice but to go all the way to the west of town to negotiate with some probably bitter and greedy guy. At least you would get some of the leftovers that are still in good condition.

You got so busy planning something that you didn't notice the constant noise coming from the direction of where you left your motorcycle. A worrying crash startles you and you step back before crossing the corner, pressing your back to the wall as your hand travels to the gun in your jacket.

You listen carefully, avoiding anything that could give you away.

Some bastard trying to steal your vehicle? A Sentinel they sent to annoy you? Did you get so careless that someone followed you?

Well, you better get out there and get rid of the problem before it gets rid of you.

You approach the corner very carefully, and activate the recognition scanner in your glasses, turning your head slowly.

Your hand grips the gun firmly when you see movement, away from your bike, thankfully, but closer to you than you'd like.

It takes you a while to make out the figure. A being with almost human characteristics, staggering as it tries to get up. It fell down, that caused the noise. But there are metallic sounds, machinery causing almost silent grinding noises. He's not human. But it's not a Sentinel either.

The being raises its head and you hide better. It doesn't notice you. You look at it closely and... it's a robot. Not one you've seen before, but definitely not one you should fear, or attack.

Its white orbs seem to scan its surroundings with confusion, or perhaps weariness. It doesn't take your "baby" into account and you sigh in relief knowing that you won't have to kick any more metal.

You study it more closely, while analyzing the information that your glasses give you. Humanoid figure, clearly thinner than ordinary. Probably tall if you weren't looking at it half lying on the ground. Yellow casings. A kind of sun rays around its head. A thematic robot, it seems. Definitely with artificial intelligence, it's not controlled by anyone. Half of its face resembles a crescent and...

It belongs to Fazbear. That's what the data says.

But... "Entertainment"? They stopped using that term a few years ago. "Fazbear Enterprises" is how they call themselves now.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You know many robots were created by them. Mostly animatronics.

You feel like you should be wary. You have no security knowing by whom it was created.

But...

It looks exhausted. Afraid. Something clearly isn't working with it, and getting up seems like a big stretch right now.

Your hand holds the gun doubtfully. You shouldn't let your guard down anyway, so you stay alert. You clench your lips and fist, thinking of what to do.

You're starving, you can get in your vehicle right away and drive off to try a bite of whatever.

. . .

“Hey.” You speak firmly and as clearly as you can as you emerge from your hiding place, making sure it doesn't see you as a weak human, just in case. The sun-like robot looks up at you, and flinches, recoiling or rather crawling backwards at your presence. Its eyes open in some panic and its mouth that seems not to be able to open showing its teeth in a tense expression.

You raise an eyebrow at its reaction, but given its condition it doesn't surprise you. The information you receive when analyzing it with the glasses doesn't seem to be anything to worry about, yet...

"Who are you? What are you doing in this place?”

The robot doesn't speak, it just watches you and you start to get annoyed. You think you see its rays contract and come out at a rate that resembles breathing. Suddenly, its body tenses in a sharp sound, and it turns its head slightly to the side.

You narrow your eyes and frown. “What's wrong with you?”

You scan your surroundings, but you don't see or hear anything. It seems like you've become less of a threat to it just now.

“...Hey, I'm talking to y-”

The robot gets up with a speed that you don't know where it came from, and takes you tightly in its arms. Not enough to hurt you, but enough so you can't break free. And boy does that make you angry. You can't draw your weapon properly, and there's nothing to kick that will "hurt" it or make it fall. It carries you as if you weighed no more than a feather. You begin to curse and flail violently, until it covers your mouth with its hand. You expected a cold, metallic texture, but it's... Soft? Silicone... And why the hell is this robot so warm?

It moves from where you were in a hurry, you can hear its machinery more clearly. Of course you haven't stopped trying to free yourself or screaming under its hand.

When they reach an unlit alley, your glasses flash, detecting an approaching threat.

Damn, a trap, a fucking trap. You should have known. How dumb, how-

The robot presses you to its body and shrinks into a corner of the alley, allowing you to put your feet on the ground. You could take advantage of the situation to get away more easily and make it scrap once and for all, but...

You hear a Sentinel pass by. The sound of its thrusters becoming clearer and louder as it advances. Your detector would not have alerted you in time. You would have had to fight off guard, and probably come away with injuries, or worse.

The darkness of the place that surrounds you is enough to hide you. Your eyes open intently to the other side, maintaining at least a little hope that the devilish machine will continue on its way. Luckily, you know when it's tracking a target. That nasty, blinding purple light isn't on. Seconds pass tortuously slowly, and then it's gone, until your radar can no longer detect it.

You feel your body relax, and you breathe out in relief, closing your eyes for a moment.

The silicone hands carefully move away from your mouth and body, and you regain your anger at the surprise of the moment, turning sharply and pushing the robot against the cement wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you insane?!” You blurt out in an angry whisper, just in case the thing could still hear you. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

The robot looks at you in panic, without moving. Its white optics seem to flicker nervously. It does its best not to touch you at all, both hands raised on either side of its head in a show of surrender.

Its silence makes you start to think that perhaps it doesn't speak, or its voice box is damaged. But... it probably just doesn't have the courage to talk.

As you study its fearful expression better, and the slightly scraped or dirty state of its faceplate and rays, you grimace. You release him and lean back.

... It just saved your life.

You don't understand why, but it did it.

And, damn, you still have enough honor to recognize an act like that towards you. Not everyone is that way these days.

Everyone tries to see for themselves. Even in the resistance. Someone less is just that... one more who didn't get lucky.

You clench your jaw, sighing deeply. You run a hand over your face, looking away. Your recent reaction wasn't the best on this one.

This robot saved you even though it wasn't in the best condition, and you perfectly noticed the fear it feels for the Sentinels.

While it does come from Fazbear... it doesn't seem to want to be related or involved with them. You look at it again, and it doesn't seem to be carrying any kind of weapon. The plates on its arms only look like maintenance accesses.

You soften your expression and hold out your hand towards it. The robot shrinks in fear, its rays retract and you understand that it's a way of expressing its emotions. Your mouth twists once more, your fingers gathering in sorrow. You drop your hand to your side awkwardly.

“... Hey, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to talk to you like that. You don't deserve to be treated that way after what you did for me…” You speak softly, watching as it slowly relaxes himself and also drops its arms tiredly.

It continues looking at you despite everything, it doesn't lower its head, nor does it look away. Or well... so it seems. You don't see pupils in its eyes.

Its rays extend smoothly, and you notice how they rotate very gently, just like a windmill. A small smile appears on your lips at that. It must mean it has calmed down now.

You breathe in and adjust your clothes without much effort. “Uh…” Your hand grabs your glasses and pushes them up, letting them rest on your head. "Thank you." You tell it calmly, not trying to approach it again. You understand that it may still be in a state of shock. “You could... you could have just left. Run, and leave me there… Wow, you could've just taken my motorcycle and run away.” You chuckle tiredly. “But you didn't... Thank you.”

The robot's rays make a quick turn to the opposite side, and you think you see him change his tense expression for a very slight smile just like yours.

You take that as an acceptance of your apology and gratitude, and you feel a little better.

A little, because... Now what? You're still hungry, and you're still planning on going for food. But leaving it here... just like that, would be low of you.

Actions, this is how you should show real appreciation for something so important.

“... Do you talk?” You ask simply, not knowing if you were tactful or not when doing so.

The robot takes a few seconds and nods. Oh, well... so it was just afraid to talk. Well done, you metaphorically "cut out its tongue" by being so defensive.

“Were you going somewhere?... You don't look... Well- you look...” You try to choose the best words, twirling your hand in the air. You click your tongue, straight to the point. “Do you need a ride? Anything?"

Another few seconds of silence. It seems to hesitate, and this time it lowers its head a little.

“… Uhm- You don't have to answer if you don't want to… I'm just trying to-”

“The underground shelters.” Finally it... he answers you, and this time you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. “I must... get to the underground shelters.” He says, his voice soft and slightly interrupted by static. His voice box, in fact, does sound a little defective.

Oh...

“... Whoa, to the- to the other side of town, huh?” The robot nods, almost ashamed.

You and him internally recognize that in his conditions he wouldn't have gotten there on his own.

“Well…” You put your hand in one of the pockets of your jacket, and show him a small control, shaking it slightly. “You're in luck. I’m going to the west too.” You say with a friendly smile, tilting your head.

He mimics you, his head leaning to the same side as yours. Or maybe he's just confused to get your help back.

Either way, you have a feeling this robot was designed to entertain.

His confused expression changes to a cheerful one, his eyes turning animatedly into crescents.

"Thank you..." He tells you softly.

“It's the least I can do.” You say lifting your shoulders simply.

The robot stands up shakily. Not out of fear, but out of the clear weakness of his metal body. You inevitably approach him quickly and help him remain stable. He doesn't flinch, or push you away. He looks down at you with a tired smile. Doesn't he have any batteries that need to be recharged as well? You start to wonder how long he's been sneaking around the city to get to his destination.

“Do you have a name… a- nickname, or something?” You question, letting him place one of his arms on your shoulders.

The robot nods once more. His expression seems a little out of it, as if he was thinking about something else. Like he's remembering. “Sun.”

You sigh with a smile at the obvious coincidence, and adjust his arm tightly over your shoulders, your free arm wrapping around his torso firmly. You tell him your name confidently, and he looks at you, spinning his rays once more. You laugh softly and gently pat his forearm.

With your free hand, you lower your glasses onto your face again, just to make sure you don't run into any more inconveniences. The radar tells you that you're safe, and you sigh heavily. Good, because your stomach is starting to kill you.

You may have had a very small glimmer of regret when helping the robot walk to your motorcycle. Even if he's just leaning on you, putting his arm around your shoulders, he's heavy as hell. Envy growing in your chest as you remember how he picked you up like it was nothing a moment ago. And he was tall, very tall. If he wasn't hunched over, you would barely reach halfway up his torso.

But, leaving him here with the excuse that he was too heavy, would be beyond rude of you.

It's not like you wanted to either. You were serious when you offered to help him.

You both reach where your "baby" was left. Intact, without having been of importance to the Sentinel, and that takes a great weight off your shoulders...

Bad inside joke.

You let him hold on to the vehicle while you get on, so he can stay upright, and also keep your motorcycle stable. You settle into your seat and then turn to look at him, motioning with your head to tell him to get in too, while you start putting on your helmet.

Hesitantly, his eyes flicker a few times and then you see him physically relax, as if sighing. He climbs up and takes a seat behind you, avoiding as much as possible to touch you, you deduce. It's fair. You've just met, in a not-so-pleasant situation, and it's completely normal for him to be nervous or uncomfortable.

You remember how he flinched when you extended your hand to him.

When you saw the fear in his body language, the brief thought that perhaps he was attacked or mistreated crossed your mind.

You don't like that.

It is true that you prefer to go on your own in general, but it doesn't mean that you don't feel complete rejection of the injustices towards the innocent beings that survive in these times.

This robot is one of those beings. Your doubts are scarce.

Your hand turns the accelerator and causes the angelic sound of your motorcycle ready to go. You feel and see from the mirror how Sun stirs uneasily at this. He clearly hasn't been in a vehicle like this before, and that makes him even more nervous.

Another clue is how his hands hold tightly on the edges of the seat, on either side of his legs.

"Hey." You catch his attention and he raises his concerned gaze from the ground to you. “You're not going to fall, don't worry. "I know how to handle this old beauty, okay?" You tell him in a comforting tone, before lowering the front shield of your helmet and directing your gaze forward. “Ready to go for a ride, 'Sun'?” You ask out loud within the safety of the helmet.

He shrinks slightly in his place, his rays retracting again, in that anxious gesture.

You don't wait for an answer. Using the accelerator again, and with complete naturalness, you step on the pedal to start, leaving the solar robot silent of any thought he had wanted to express.

You had already gotten used to the small push generated by the start, so much so that you no longer even noticed it. But Sun... Sun gripped his hands on the fabric of your jacket, on both sides of your torso.

You laugh softly, barely noticeable because of the wind crashing against your body, your amused smile being blocked by the dark visor covering your face.

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julemmaes · 3 years

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Like I'm Drowning

Rowaelin Month, Day Twelve

A/N: Sorry about this, blame @thewayshedreamed, she's the one who wanted more angst.

This will have a fourth part, for obvious reasons;)

part one, part two

Word count: 3,874

It was two days after Aelin had left their home. It was about eleven o'clock in the evening when the walls of what had once been his favourite place had shaken with the force of Lorcan's fists on the front door, shouting at Rowan to let him in.

He had not answered.

He couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to because his legs had stopped working and the muscles in his neck had been reduced to jelly over the last forty-eight hours, sip after sip of whatever alcohol he'd found in the cabinet.

He lay on the floor, his face in a pool of his own vomit, too heedless to care, too sore to move. In any case, he had stopped smelling the stench hours ago.

Another ten minutes had passed, in which his best friend had threatened over and over again to call the police if he didn't open the fucking door, before Lorcan had slammed his shoulder into it.

He hadn't been able to move in time when the door unhinged from the wall fell partially on him, hitting him in the head with one of the now splintered edges. He grunted in pain and could smell the blood as it began to trickle down his forehead, onto his nose, and he was relieved - he wasn't dead. Rowan had not been sure of it until that moment.

The other was there an instant later, taking the door off him, leaning it against the wall.

And the sharp breath he took was a dagger straight to Rowan's heart.

He didn't want him to see him like this.

He had never heard Lorcan's voice like that. So shocked, so worried. Whatever emotions he was feeling at the moment were blocking him from approaching him. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. Of breaking him more than he already was.

Rowan shook his head what he could, he didn't want him to see him like this. He didn't deserve his help.

"God, Rowan, what have you done?"

The relief at finding out he was still alive lasted a moment though, as the pain in his chest hit him so hard it took his breath away and he pulled himself up onto all fours before yet another wave of gags shook his body. He opened his mouth, hoping that this time something would come out, but he choked on nothing. His eyes filled with tears and Rowan wondered how that was possible.

There should have been nothing in his body.

He’d been in this conditions since the day before.

He felt a hand settle on his back, rubbing up and down as Lorcan tried to figure out what was going on, and his brain betrayed him, showing him images of a life he had taken for granted all along, from the second she had been his.

Him on the bathroom floor a few months earlier.

A box of somewhat-too-spicy Chinese food on their coffee table.

And Aelin.

Her hands on his back.

He shook off Lorcan's hand, "Don't touch me."

The words burned his throat and another gag went up his esophagus.

He stayed in that position for a few minutes, his back rising and falling frantically with each breath where he seemed to be unable to get enough air in.

"Rowan."

He didn't look at him. He couldn't.

"Rowan, you hear me?"

Lorcan ducked down, crouching beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to remember what he'd just asked him not to do as soon as he gave him a startled look. If he touched him again, he didn't know what his broken mind would show him. He was terrified of it.

With a grimace, Lorcan clenched both hands into fists and took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sour smell of vomit and what Rowan was ashamed to admit was his own piss reached his nostrils. When he opened them again there was a distinct determination in his gaze and Rowan had to pull his eyes back to the floor.

He thought he had found a sort of calm in which he might even be able to answer Lorcan's questions, but he was wrong. He was so wrong.

"What happened?”

“I feel-” he tried to speak, failing, “I feel like I’m drowing.”

“Why? What happened?” he asked again. And then the final hit, “Where's Aelin?"

There was no stopping the first sob. His vision went totally blurry, blackening everything in front of him until all he could see was the image of her, and his chest constricted to the point where breathing was no longer even an option. He fell to the side, against the wall, and there was no stopping the desperate crying that washed over him.

***

It was three days after Aelin had left their home. It was eight o'clock in the evening when Elide and Lorcan had asked him if he would like to go back there after leaving the hospital. It was twenty past eight when they had reached his street and he was counting down the seconds till he got to smell her perfume in the air again.

He had entered the house and tried not to breathe through his nose, realising he was not ready to remember what her scent was. He noticed how everything had been cleaned, tidied up or fixed and he didn't have the mental or physical trength to turn around, hug his friends and thank them.

He looked towards the kitchen, on the table. The letter was no longer there.

"Where is it?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

He hadn't spoken in the last few hours. Not to the couple he knew was staring at him from the doorway.

He'd been forced to answer questions from the doctors, from his coaches asking him how much time he needed. Lorcan had warned him that he'd lied for him, that he'd told them someone dear to them both had suffered a serious injury and died.

Rowan had looked at him and said a simple thank you while he lay on his hospital bed, despite knowing how much a fuckup of that magnitude risked not only his career, but Lorcan's as well.

It was Elide who had the courage to answer him, "What?"

"The letter."

"Oh." she whispered, "I put it in your room."

He nodded. Running a hand over his face he turned to them, noting how they both looked ready to launch themselves forward if they thought Rowan was going to crumble once more time.

He saw Lorcan clench his jaw and then look away before saying, "You won't find any alcohol, I threw away what was left."

Elide smiled at him with watery eyes, trying to change the subject as fast as possible, "If you need anything, you can always come to our place. You know that. We have-"

He interrupted her abruptly. He didn't look at her as he said in a harsh tone, "Thank you for everything, you can go now."

She took a sharp breath, nodding dryly and turning, hurrying out of the house. Lorcan followed her with his gaze the whole time, telling her he would join her in the car in a moment.

When he met Rowan's gaze again, the voice was the one he'd used all the years in high school when he'd been his captain. It gave no room for argument.

"I don't know what you're going through. I don't even want to begin to think about how painful it is to lose someone so important."

She didn’t die, he wanted to say. She left me.

I gave up on her. I don’t deserve her.

The steel mask Rowan was wearing seemed to be already starting to crack. He needed Lorcan to leave before he couldn't control his emotions.

He had already done too much for him.

He didn't deserve any of what they were offering him. He didn’t deserve anything.

"I can hardly imagine what I would do if I were in your position. If Elide-" he paused, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, for what's happening. It's not easy, I understand, but whatever you're doing right now, it's not the solution. Treating me and Elide like this isn't going to drive us away, and before you tell me you don't need anything, let me just say that finding you lying in a pool of your own vomit completely hammered, out of your mind was one of the most horrifying things I've ever had to see." he took a step forward, placing a hand on Rowan's shoulder.

He had the instinct to pull away, but the grip on his jacket tightened, pinning him in place.

"I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm not going to let you throw away your career like this," he told him, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm not going to lecture you about what happened the other day. I know I would have done a lot worse, but you have to promise me that it won't happen again."

Lorcan's voice faltered at last and Rowan was surprised to see his eyes glaze over.

He nodded, his mouth slightly open, shocked at his friend's reaction.

"Promise me."

He hurried to whisper, "I promise."

Lorcan nodded, pulling Rowan to him and hugging him. He closed his eyes as the man in front of him held him together without even realising.

When they pulled away, they pretended not to hear the way they were sniffing, or the tears on both men's cheeks. They said a simple goodbye and then Rowan was alone.

Again.

He climbed the stairs slowly, walking like a dead man down the corridor filled with memories of him carrying Aelin in his arms on that very floor, and when he reached the door to their room, he hesitated.

He brushed against the knob, gripping it in his hand.

He stared at the wood in front of him and felt panic assail him.

Rowan turned on his heel, running for the stairs, the exit, hoping that Lorcan had not already left.

He threw open the door of the ghost-filled house and ran out, intent on never returning.

***

It was two weeks after Aelin left their home. Eleven days since he'd run away in a panic. Ten days since Lorcan had convinced Rowan to go back there, at least to pack up his things.

Nine days since Rowan had destroyed their room, screaming and sobbing as he tore the curtains from the windows and threw what little of her he had left against the wall.

Every ornament, every picture frame.

He'd screamed at Lorcan when he'd tried to stop it.

He hadn't succeeded. Rowan had razed their home to the ground, shattering every happy memory they had created over the years in those four walls.

Only when he'd found Aelin's ring had he stopped, bursting into tears so loud that the first sob had startled Lorcan, holding the small object to his chest.

They had gone back to Lorcan’s, and Elide had stood there looking at him with wide eyes, before running to get the first aid kit to clean the wounds Rowan had caused himself. More or less deep cuts, which his friends said should have been stitched up by actual doctors, but Rowan doubted they wouldn't lock him up in the psychiatric ward if he went to the emergency room for the sixth time in such a short time.

Especially if he came in with shards of glass between his fingers.

He hadn't kept his promise to Lorcan.

He'd drank again. He'd gotten into a couple of fights. He hadn't been back to the rink.

He hadn't skated in a fortnight. Longest period of his life off the ice.

But he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything. And it was all his fault.

***

It was three months and one day after Aelin had left their home. He had called Lysandra every day since Lorcan had forced him out of his and Elide's house, finding him a place right outside their team's arena. The woman had never given him any real answers, only reassuring him that Aelin was fine and that he should start moving on, too.

That too had broken something inside of him. The implications that Aelin had found someone else.

He couldn’t even bare being in the same room as another woman knowing they’d all be looking at him trying to get in his pants.

Aelin had always been the only one who wanted him for who he truly was, not his money. Not his status.

She had wished all those things gone so many times.

And she had left him.

He had let her go.

The team had sent a physiotherapist to his house every day for the first month, and then every week, accompanied by a shrink. Rowan had managed to drain them all. One after the other.

He was sure Lorcan had lost all hope too, but he continued undaunted to help him, going to his house every day after practice, without ever missing one day.

Rowan knew that Aelin had called him one night, almost a month before. Lorcan had told him, how she had begged him to tell her that he was alright, even though it wasn't true. His friend had also told him that she'd seemed to be drunk, and when she had hung up and both he and Elide had tried to call her back, Aelin had blocked their numbers.

From what he knew, she'd only unblocked Elide's, but she hadn't given him any kind of information about Aelin and he knew she'd never say anything.

He had hurt her - Elide. Rowan knew he'd treated her like little more than trash, both her and Lorcan, but however much he'd hurt her, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.

He should have felt something for his friends who had given him everything in the last period, but Rowan could not care less than what they had to go through for him.

Now he was waiting for Lorcan, sitting at the table, to show him he was alright. Putting on his daily show and reassuring his friend that everything was going great, he just wasn't ready to skate again yet. The other one would look at him, yell at him a few minutes before walking out of his miserably empty flat slamming the door.

Rowan was just waiting for the day when he wouldn't show up or when he would tell him he wasn't coming, saying goodbye one last time.

He knew it would happen, one way or another, and Rowan didn't know how to stop the mess that had become his life.

That day it wasn't Lorcan who entered his house, but someone else. Rowan opened the door and saw his agent, his team president, and his coaches, along with the athletic trainers.

They had given him an ultimatum.

Either you go back to slacking off after Christmas break or we break your contract, you're off the team and you lose lots of money.

The president had been particularly emphatic on the subject of money, but for Rowan that would be the least important thing.

It wasn't until the evening after New Year's Eve that he had made a decision.

Lysandra, whom he hadn't seen in person in more than two months, had entered his house looking like someone who hadn't slept in years. She had forced him out of bed, shouting at him to wash up, to clean his house. She had made it so Rowan couldn't talk back, never letting him speak, pushing him left and right.

She had taken him outside, something he hadn't done in weeks, so much so that the sun had hurt his eyes for the first two hours. She had forced him to buy new clothes and all the missing furniture in his house.

She had stayed with him for three days.

Three extremely long days in which she had swore at him, insulted him in every possible way imaginable by the human mind. They'd nearly come to blows when she'd touched a sore spot and Rowan had threatened to call Aedion to haul her away.

She'd dragged him to the party Fenrys had thrown for the New Year and for the first time in months, Rowan had smiled.

Elide had started crying when she'd seen him, Lorcan on the verge of tears as well. They had both hugged him and Rowan had begged for their forgiveness.

That night, Rowan thought things would be different for him for the first time.

He'd been wrong.

Again.

***

It was four years and twenty-seven days after Aelin had left their home. Four years since he had received no news of her. Three years since he stopped asking.

Rowan had been zapping through channels for so many hours now that the glaring light of the TV didn't even bother him anymore. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the screen, not really looking at the images in front of him. He caught a glimpse of a sentence here and there, ignoring the constant tinkle coming from his phone that warned him that Lorcan still didn't give up on talking to him every day from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to sleep. Even when he was on holiday with his now wife.

They had won yet another cup. The third win in a row.

Sometimes Rowan could hardly believe it.

Three Stanley Cups.

On his dream team.

He should have been excited. No, not excited.

He should have been the happiest man on earth. He should have been out celebrating with his teammates, vacationing on a tropical beach like Lorcan was doing, surrounding himself with girls ready to offer him anything to spend even just one night with him.

But Rowan didn't want to.

Rowan felt nothing – he had not felt anything in the last few years of his life. How did he expect to start now? For a measly win.

He hated hockey. He hated the sport. Hated the fans, his teammates.

He hated his life.

He was about to turn off the TV, confident that he would be able to sleep tonight without the help of the meds the team kept giving him to keep him from collapsing during the games, when his finger froze on the remote.

He didn't know what he was watching, but it seemed to be a channel about gossip, and Rowan felt a pang of anger well up in his chest. It seemed to be the only emotion he still felt from time to time.

Shocked and pissed that someone had felt the need to devote an entire channel to minding other people's business, he stood up, ready to pass out in his cold bed, when the words of the man on the screen stopped him in his tracks.

"And now to the latest news, straight from the social of the Toronto Maple Leafs' rookie player, Chaol Westfall, who has announced his marriage to the stunningly beautiful girlfriend, Aelin Galathynius. She has never been very active on social media, in fact, for somebody with such a charm, she'd be perfect in the role of influencer, but-"

Rowan stopped hearing.

He felt his body's reaction in time, and rushing to the kitchen, he managed to get everything his body was rejecting in the sink. He heaved in there till the last bit of what he’d eaten a few hours ago.

His heart was racing and he had to grip the counter to keep from kneeling on the floor.

That couldn’t be true.

Aelin was getting married.

Aelin was getting married to an hockey player.

The anger blinded him as her words flashed before his eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I’m weak. I’m so tired.

This isn’t the life I wanted for us.

I wish I could be your “’till death do us apart”, but I can’t.

The sound that came out of him was not human as he ran to his room and snatched the ring from the drawer next to his bed, the letter that just went wherever he went and raced out of the flat that never felt his own anyway.

***

It was four years and thirty days after Aelin had left their home.

Rowan stood in front of the journalists. Everyone was gaping at him, his teammates on the sidelines were looking his way as if he’d grown three heads.

And he couldn’t blame them, but he had needed to do this a long time ago.

He’d talked to his agents, the team’s president, everyone he had needed to to make this happen and he hadn’t felt such freedom in so long.

The questions just kept on coming and coming and he couldn’t distinguish the words. But he didn’t care.

He only needed to make this statement in front of everyone.

“I’m aware that leaving this team right now is a foolish and completely insane idea, but this world has taken too much from me already. My contract with the Senators ended with this season and I know everyone was expecting me to say which team I’m heading off to, but I’m quitting.

“I should have done this a long time ago and I’m sure the person this is for won’t even see this interview, but I love someone who thought she wasn’t enough for me. She told me four years ago her love wasn’t enough. I’m leaving cause hockey has not been a source of happiness in a very long time and it ruined everything good I ever had.

“I thought I loved playing cause of the adrenaline. The pride in a win. The chills when you score. But no, it wasn't that.”

I loved seeing her smile whenever I scored for her. The way she used to put medications on my wounds and bruises whenever I got hit too hard. Or the way we used to get all cuddled up after a long flight, after weeks of not seeing each other. I loved how my jerseys fit her – the way my clothes fit her.

He turned to his teammates, the people he owned a lot but couldn’t bring himself to care enough of to stay with them, “Being on this team would only make it worse. I’m sorry guys, I hope you can understand. This isn’t what I want right now.”

And right before he could get off the stage that had been set up for him, someone screamed from the crown.

“What are you going to do now?”

He didn’t stop to reply, avoiding everyone’s gazes and keeping on walking until he reached the exit of the arena. The chill air hit him hard as he went out on the street and got on the car.

This was the last time he’d be able to use one of the team’s cars.

The driver looked at him in the mirror, “Where to?”

“The airport, please.”

The man nodded and started the engine and Rowan felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

Now, I’m going to get her.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan

#rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #rowaelin month day twelve #angst #tog #throne of glass

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Note

hi friend!!!! i love your writing!!! if you're taking prompts from the bingo card (if you're not then feel free to delete this!!), how about N5 for Jon? :) i hope you have a great day!!

‘fighting to pay attention to urgent information’ ahh i love this prompt!! thank you so much for the ask, it means a lot since i love your writing so much (and it inspired me to starting posting my stuff, to be honest). Here you go, I hope you like! This takes place right after Sasha makes her statement to Jon in season one.

Sasha is talking but Jon can’t hear her.

It’s all muddled in his mind. So many things have happened over the last couple of weeks- Martin’s worm attack and now Sasha’s encounter with Michael- and his mind is refusing to process. She gave her statement in his office and was now explaining the situation to Martin and Tim while Jon stood awkwardly in the doorway, trying to nod at the appropriate time.

“We’ll need a plan of attack if Prentiss comes or if any of us encounter Michael again,” she’s saying. “Martin’s already living here, but-”

A plan. Yes. A plan would be good but Jon can’t think beyond Sasha bleeding in his office and Martin throwing open his door demanding to be heard. The worms on the pavement crawl and creep and remind him of something he thought he’d finally put behind him but he’s been chasing it the entire time, hasn’t he?

His body feels at once too hot and too cold. Jon’s never understood that about illness. How a body can burn with fever and shake with a chill at the same time. But he’s not sick, he’s just...overwhelmed. Needs to eat a normal meal, needs to get some sleep. If he could just get a deep breath in his lungs the black spots would stop dancing in front of his vision and he could pay attention and come up with a plan.

But every other word is ‘worms’ and ‘infestation’ and all matter of disturbing things and his mind goes wild with imagination, horrible scenarios playing out in his mind as his breaths turn into an uneven staccato of sound that he tries to stifle.

“-could get more CO2 you think? Jon?” That’s your name.

“A-Ah, yes. I’ll t-talk to Elias.” Sasha nods and Jon is relieved to have said the right thing. The fog in his brain lifts; the panic eases for just a few moments but it only reveals more physical pain and he starts to shake. He knows he needs to sit down soon or he’ll be lying on the ground either way. So he slowly backs out of the room, hoping no one notices as his hands grasp at the wall for balance. He manages to stumble back to Document Storage before he hears someone calling his name. But he’s lost now, barely breathing as his heart stutters in his chest and he sinks to the floor.

________

Martin had been watching Jon while Sasha spoke. Martin watched Jon a lot- innocently, of course, and Jon never seemed to notice. He was either willfully ignorant or really that oblivious.

Martin was starting to double down on the ‘willfully ignorant’ theory.

Jon was nodding along, sure. But his face held a detached blankness, as if each word were in one ear and out the other. Of course he would zone out during this conversation; it involved real, actual supernatural occurrences. He only contributed once, a vague promise to talk to Elias, who was turning out to be a very useless manager. Martin thought Jon was getting better about this. After all, he seemed to believe both Martin and Sasha’s stories. But he watched as Jon moved further and further out of the room when he should be contributing to the conversation. He disappeared down the hallway and Martin let out an irritated sigh, drawing Tim and Sasha’s attention.

“What’s up?” Tim asked from his perch on Sasha’s desk. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna figure this out-”

“It’s not-” Martin got up, starting to make his way down the hallway. “It’s Jon. I can’t believe he would just walk out on this. I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Martin-” Sasha sounded hesitant but he ignored her as he spotted the open door to Document Storage. Why would Jon go here instead of his office? This was Martin’s room with his things. And I didn’t exactly keep it clean. “Jon?” he called out. “Jon, you need to- what are you doing?”

The man was leaning against his cot, knees brought up to his chest as he stared at the floor. His glasses were tucked into his sweater and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. And he was ignoring Martin in favor of whatever the hell he found so interesting about the floor. Martin stooped down to his level, ignoring the twinge in his knees on the cold cement. “What’s going on?” he asked again, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. God, Jon could be so infuriating at times, but he was still concerned.

Jon barely spared him a glance and tightened his arms around his knees, looking like a ball of tension. His shoulders moved very minutely upwards in a sort of shrugging motion and Martin thought he heard a mumble of ‘’nothing, fine,” under his breath and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He moved in closer, setting a firm hand on Jon’s bony shoulder- when did he get so thin?

“Look, I know it’s a lot,” Martin tried for comfort, though it was getting harder and harder to do so these days when the man refused to see reason. “But you can’t just bury your head in the sand whenever someone says something you don’t want to hear, alright? We’re all struggling and it would be a lot easier if we had a boss who actually listened instead of- shit.”

Jon was shaking so much. How had he not noticed? His breathing was off, like a sputtering engine as his white-knuckled grip dug into his knees. His face was ashen and sweaty. He was clearly unwell but he opened his mouth anyway in an attempt to respond. His eyes did not meet Martin’s.

“It’s- it’s all I think about,” he began, his voice more of a croak than the smooth baritone Martin was used to. “She’s after us, after you and Sasha and now there’s Michael and I don’t know what to do.” Martin watched in horror as his eyes filled with tears and his voice trembled. “And- and what if I go home and she’s waiting there? What if she gets Tim? What if we aren’t safe anywhere?” A slender hand shot out and grabbed onto Martin’s sweater, startling him as Jon’s eyes met his own with a desperate fervor. “I-I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. And Elias doesn’t even care, just w-watches while we all scramble around doing- doing-” his voice broke into a hacking cough and Martin couldn’t witness any more. He dislodged Jon’s hand and backed away. Seeing Jon like this was uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, so he went into his natural problem-solving mode. “I’m going to get you some water, yeah? You’re- you’re not well, we can talk about this later.” Despite keeping his voice soft and low, Martin watched as Jon shrunk into himself, desperately trying to stifle his coughs. “I’ll be right back.”

He hightailed it out of the storage area, eyes firmly on the ground and steps so quick he didn’t notice Tim until he ran right into him.

“Oof! What’s wrong, Martin?” Tim said as he grabbed him by the shoulder. “Boss giving you trouble?” Martin shook his head, voicing his next words as diplomatically as possible.

“He’s, um- I think he’s sick?” Tim’s brow furrowed in concern. “I’m just going to get him some water, yeah.” He walked off before Tim could ask another question; he didn’t want to leave Jon alone for too long but he also didn’t want to be subjected to Tim’s questioning.

It only took him a couple of minutes to grab some water and a cold towel but by the time he got back to the room Jon was laid out on his cot, eyes barely open as Tim said something Martin couldn’t hear and smiled softly at the man in the bed. He knew they’d all known each other before the Archives; it was something that he thought about quite a bit, to be honest. But he’d never really seen Jon interact with someone like this, so quiet and trusting that he nodded off right in front of them.

“There you are!” Tim said, uncharacteristically quiet. He reached out and Martin handed over the supplies, still stupefied by the whole situation.

“Just gonna let him sleep for a mo’ before I force this down his throat,” he chuckled as he gently placed the towel on his forehead. “Glad you checked up on him- didn’t realize he was having a rough go of it. I’m usually a bit more observant.”

“We’re all having a rough go of it, Tim,” Martin felt like he had to explain some of his frustration. “How did he let himself get to this point? I mean, he’s always so skeptical on the tapes but it turns out he’s worked himself up so much he’s sick and it doesn’t make any sense.”

“We all tell our lies, Martin,” The words weren’t said unkindly, but he remembered that Tim knew about his resume and though he didn’t think the man would ever tell anyone it did seem like the words were rather pointed. “His coping mechanism is all this skeptic nonsense. Don’t get me wrong, it’s terrible and very annoying,” Tim conceded, giving Martin a knowing look. “But not all of us ended up here accidentally. Most of us are here for answers. For a reason.” Tim’s far off look reminded him that he knew so little about the people he worked with. He wondered what Tim’s reason was, what Jon’s was. And if they would ever feel comfortable enough to confide in him.

Martin doesn’t know how to respond to those words, so he does what he does best- deflect and nervously offer his services. “I can throw the kettle on, maybe order some takeaway? Food would probably make him feel better.”

“Yeah, reckon it would,” Tim’s just staring at Jon as he fitfully dozed. Tim may not have been attacked directly but he looked tired and worried all the same. “He likes Thai.”

Martin noted the fact down for his mental file on Jonathan Sims. Hates spiders. Likes his tea with milk, no sugar. Hates my handwriting. Likes Thai. It’s not very comprehensive.

Later, when he’s making tea in the break room, he watches as Sasha slips into the hallway to Document Storage, attempting to go unnoticed. She’s got a hand to her shoulder like she’s trying to rub away the ache and Martin grabs some paracetamol out of the cabinet, knowing both her and Jon will need it. Everyone in the Archives likes to hide their pain, himself included. But maybe for one night they could help each other out. Four tired humans against two eldritch abominations.

Martin could get behind those odds.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065482

#asks #my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #sickfic #prompt #panic attacks cw #taylortut #thank you for the prompt! i loved it

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i-write-sometimes-blog · 4 years

Text

Cold Eyes (Dark Rey x Reader) [Part 13]

Summary: After spending your first night together, you have to face a new and dangerous threat.

Words: 1,910

A/N: Have I told you how much I enjoy writing this series? Well I do and a lot! Just wanted to thank you for all your love to this little thing. That was all, happy reading!

It was still dark outside when your eyes fluttered slowly open, the strange yet soft orange light slided through the big window turning the room into a warm, comfortable golden tone.

“Hi” you murmured with sleepy voice, a smile forming on your lips as you saw Rey’s hazel eyes darting at you, the warm light of the dawn letting them look warmer than usual.

“Hi” she smiled back at you propping herself on her elbow. She looked beyond beautiful under the golden light, her dark hair was tousled, some strands hanging into her face while a soft content smile adorned her delicate face. She observed you for a moment before she leaned down to capture your lips.

A content hum left your lips when she moved from your lips to your neck pressing light kissed onto your skin there and along your jaw, your mind still trying to realize what had happened last night, you smiled with the memories of her hands dancing over your body, what an incredible night.

“Did you sleep well?” she murmured and you could feel her smiling on your skin.

“Better than ever” you giggled. You felt so peaceful, so free without the nightmares and you felt safe with Rey’s arm wrapped around your body.

Rey took a new look at you, caressing your face softly and pushing some strands of hair away from your face. Her eyes filled with longing and adoration, she couldn’t help but smile at you, it was hard for her to believe you were really there with her.

“I have to go now” she told you reluctantly. “I have a few meetings today”

“Can’t cancel them?” you joked around “I mean, you’re the Supreme Leader after all, you can do whatever you want.” you saw her laugh before she leaned to kiss you again.

“It’s not that simple, Y/N” she murmured inches away from your lips before she finally got out of the big bed. You watched her delicate naked body walking across the room as you stayed in the bed comfort. She caught your gaze when she was sliding into a new black dress that hugged her curves just enough but still perfect for a battle, noticing your gaze she looked at you for an instant, the confident grin was back on her lips.

“You can stay here a bit longer” she told you “Maybe sleep a little more, I’ll send someone for you later” she said fixing the last touches of her clothing, then she came closer to you pressing a short but sweet kiss on your lips.

“See ya” you said before she was gone.

You did take her offer, a good sleep sounded great so you curled up in the big bed alone but knowing there will be no more nightmares, you were sure Rey had somehow make them stop. However you sleep wasn’t as pleasant as you expected.

There was a voice, a very distant voice but it was there, echoing in the back of your head. It called your name one, two, many times. It was different from a nightmare, this voice was familiar and didn’t seemed to want to harm you.

Then you finally recognized it when it grew louder.

“Finn” you murmured snapping your eyes open.

“Y/N!” his voice said entuciastictly. You looked around the big empty room searching and scanning for any sign of your friend but he was nowhere to find, it was impossible, he couldn’t be there. “Y/N, can you hear me? I need you to concentrate, okay?”

“Finn, yes I hear you” you said out loud “Can you… see me?” you asked as you covered yourself with the dark sheets.

“No” he said “It’s just your voice for now, why?”

“No reason” you chuckled searching for your clothes. “Where are you? How’s the Resistance? I- I’m glad to hear your voice”

“We’re hiding, Y/N. We’re weak but I least I found you.” he said “I’ve been trying to contact you somehow with the Force but Leia said I wasn’t ready but we really need your help, the Resistance is smaller every day and the First Order conquered so many planets.” he explained.

“I know” you sighed, you had seen the maps, the holograms, you had been in some of those planets now controlled by the First Order.

You sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. He did it, he had learn how to reach out, a thing you were supposed to do a long time ago to help them but instead you were lying in bed with the enemy.

“Y/N?”

“I’m here” you told him.

“We lost communication after Endor, there was a mission to rescue you, we thought you were there but never found you.” he continued then he paused for a moment. “Where are you, Y/N?” he said in a serious tone, you looked at the ground before answering.

“Mustafar” you said adjusting the last pieces of fabric over your body and already knowing what his next question would be.

“Mustafar!?” he said surprised “But that’s the First Order’s headquarters, how…”

“It’s a long story, Finn” you cut him off, “I’ll tell you later, the only thing that matters now is that I’m still in your side and I’ll find a way to help.”

Just then the heavy metal door opened and you glanced at the man in the doorway.

“Y/N, you’re still there?” Finn asked in the back of your head. “Y/N!”

“General Hux” you greeted the intruder. “She send you to pick me up, right?” you told him serios.

“Exactly” he limited to said before he turned around, an unspoken command for you to follow him. You felt the Finn’s voice fading away as you walked in silence behind the General.

"You're not special" he said without looking at you once you were in a completely desert hallway.

"Excuse me?" You asked confused.

"To her, to Rey" he said, this was the first time he didn't called her Supreme Leader and it seems weird, though you weren't surprised he was a double face man doing whatever to stay alive. "Do you really think she cares about you? No, you're just a toy" he scoffed.

"You're wrong" you told him. "You don't know her like I do, Hux"

Then he stopped his feet and turned to look at you.

"Don't play the fool, girl" he said with satisfied grin on his lips, keeping his posture as he held his hands behind his back. "She's using you. She just wants your connection with the force" he looked you up and down. "And perhaps as a stress reliever" he said, of course he figured out you two were sleeping together when he found you in her quarters.

"It's different with me" you huffed.

"Oh, darling. I thought you were smarter than this" He said smiling "Enjoy your privileges while you can, Y/N. But for your own good I suggest you not to get use to it" he walked closer to you leaning close to you "Because once you're not longer useful to her she's going to get rid of you in an instant, just like she did with Kylo Ren"

You stared at him with fury, you wanted to punch him in the face but you're doubt stopped you.

"You don't know what happened to him, do you?" He said "She didn't tell you everything"

"She killed him, I know that" you said "he probably deserved it, he turned her into a monster"

"No, darling" he told you "He tried to stop her. After he killed Snoke he was free to see the destruction he made him do" Hux explained "Ren tried to convince your precious Rey to go to the light again but it was too late" he added "Becoming the monster was her choice"

He looked at you satisfied to see your face going from anger to horror.

"Now come on, dear" he said already making his way down the hall "They're waiting for us."

Minutes later you found yourself lost in your thoughts sitting in the long table full of commanders and generals, Hux staring across the table to you.

Then an hologram popped out of the holo table revealing a small blue figure with the form of Rey.

"Supreme Leader" Hux greeted the little image.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting" she rushed to speak in a serious way "I'm afraid I won't be able to attend the meeting, I have to take care of other kind of… business" the rest of the people stayed quiet as she spoke "My apprentice Y/N will take my place on the meeting and will report everything to me when it's over"

"Me?"

"Her?" Hux said surprised "Supreme Leader I assure you I can inform you of everything we discuss here."

"I want the report from her and only from her, General Hux" she said strict. You looked across the table and smirked at Hux who seemed to be very offended.

"As you wish, Supreme Leader" he said and moments later the blue figure was gone. Then it was replaced with the same hologram of the system you had seen before that marked the advance of the First Order.

"Commander Benndra, you have the floor" Hux said looking at a woman sitting next to him. She immediately stood up and started to speak with confidence.

"This hologram shows the occupied by the First Order, most of them surrendered and those that didn't were defeated by the Supreme Leader herself" she explained, you felt the fear running in your body again, you could imagined her killing innocent people and it scared you. "Supreme Leader is right now attacking this planet and once we have it under our control Phase One would be finished. We can proceed to Phase Two"

"Thank you Commander Benndra" Hux said and the woman sat back on her seat.

"Phase Two" the man said as he pushed some buttons in the side of the table, zooming to a small planet marked with the First Order's colors. "With this phase we will guarantee the order and peace in our colonies" he explained as he zoomed even more, to the surface of the planet where a big structure was visible. "This is how we bring order to the galaxy"

The audience applauded him for a moment and then get back to silence again.

"Cannons with technology from our ships are being installed in this precise moment" He continued "Cannons that destroyed planets like Jakku in a matter of second. We will have more options if our fleets gets damaged" he looked at you "Or if the civilians rebel against us. I just have to press a button and the planet would be gone."

You listened his words carefully, the fear growing bigger with every new sentence. How could they do a thing like that? It was monstrous, terrifying, really really bad. You felt sick when the hologram showed again the conquer of the First Order, there were lots of planets forced to live now in fear.

And then you felt pain, how could Rey allow this? how could she be possibly okay with this? Maybe Hux was right, maybe it was her choice to become the monster after all.

You had to find a way out, a way to stop this now more than ever, before it was too late for all the galaxy.

Tagging: @cpt-bolter , @elvencantation , @jay-birf03 , @x-a-gay-disaster-x , @redleysjazz , @hstoria , @iamafangirl-fightme , @leilei-draws , @hayley-the-comet , @snoot-snoot-toot , @1-800-depressedlesbian , @empresspalpatinee , @xgaygremlinx , @the-great-imagines-of-1812

(In case you want to be tagged for specific things or everything I write, just let me know)

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eryiss · 4 years

Text

FRAXUS: Eight Days In Transit - 2 of 2

Summary: Laxus' life had always been hard. His life was shaped by hardships and troubles, and he knew he needed to keep on moving to survive. But when he is forced to stowaway on a luxury train to Paris, he is given a small respite in his troubles in the form of Freed Justine, a confident writer unlike anyone Laxus had ever met. The man offers him space in his cabin just for the story of how he got there, an act of kindness that changes Laxus' life completely.

But a lot can happen on a train journey. And getting on the train might have been one of the best things that could have happened to Laxus. All it takes is eight days of transit. [Fraxus | 12.5k Words]

Hi all. I hope you liked the first part and enjoy reading the ending. Just to warn you there’s a smut scene, which is skippable. It starts at the headding ‘Day Seven - Night’ if you want to avoid it.

You can read it on Archive of our Own, Fanfiction and Under The Cut. Also you can read the previous chapter here.

Eight Days Of Transit - Part 2

Day Five: Morning

When Laxus woke, there was a ball of guilt in his stomach.

Whatever Freed wanted to do with men was none of his business, and it was unimportant. What was important was that he and Freed were friends – or at least on good terms with each other – and Laxus had been a jackass. His silence had led to Freed to believe Laxus judged him for his preference, and that wasn't right.

Worse still, Freed had faced rejection on his novella due to it being a romance between two men. He must have already been feeling shitty about himself, and Laxus' silence would have been another kick to the teeth.

He had acted like a dick and needed to make amends.

Blinking open his eyes he looked to the side and his guilt increased tenfold. Sitting on the desk was a steaming bowl of porridge, three sliced of toast and a singular glass of orange juice. Freed had left him the breakfast he'd had throughout the week despite their argument. So he was still making good on his promise to look after him, not even punishing him slightly by lessening how much he was going to eat, and it made Laxus feel sick with his guilt.

Laxus jumped down from the bunk, stretching his back as he paced the room slightly. The first thing he needed to do was to apologise, then assure Freed that he didn't care about his homosexuality. Hopefully that would at least be a start at making things right.

As he paced, he heard the sound of water sloshing behind the closed door of the washroom.

So Freed was cleaning, rather than having left for the morning. That was good, that way he wouldn't have to wait until the night for Freed to return so he could apologise. If Freed had another day without him, then he would have more time to believe Laxus thought his lifestyle was wrong and his resentment would grow.

Although hearing Freed moving in the washroom made Laxus nervous.

He was never good at apologies. But this had to be different, because he truly was apologetic. In the past, most of his apologies were either because someone had forced him to say sorry or because he had a social obligation to do so. With this, he just had to be honest.

After a few moments, where Laxus nervously wrung his hands together, the door to the washroom opened. Laxus snapped his head towards Freed, who was fully dressed in his waistcoat and jacket, clearly intending to leave their cabin as quickly as possible. Freed hadnt yet been self-conscious about changing his clothes in front of Laxus other than in their first day together, so the fact he had dressed himself in the washroom was clearly related to their argument the day before. It made Laxus feel a little dull in his stomach.

"Wait," Laxus said, standing up and putting a hand on Freed's chest to stop him from leaving. "I need to talk to you."

"Make it quick then," Freed snapped icily. "I'm surprised you can bare to touch me. You might think I'm infectious or something absurd of the sort."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk about. What we spoke about last night, I mean," Laxus grinded his teeth, he should have planned this out. Freed looked at him expectantly, and impatiently. "Look, the fact that you're…"

"Gay," Freed spoke clearly. "I'm gay, Laxus. You can say it."

"The fact that you're gay, it ain't my business," Laxus continued, trying to maintain eye contact. He had never been good with eye contact. "Where you wanna put your dick… it ain't anything to do with me. Women, men, it's your choice. And let's be honest, I'm not in a place to judge you on anything. I snuck onto a fucking train and you didn't judge me."

"Correct," Freed said, still a little hostile. Laxus removed his hand from Freed's chest and sighed.

"I'm sorry," He said clearly, looking to the ground now. "You're a good man, and you've been more than decent to me. And this isn't me scared about you speaking to someone and getting me kicked off, do that if you want. It's your choice. But, I just want you to know that I am sorry for not being better to you."

Freed's posture changed a little. Laxus hadnt noticed it before, but Freed had been tense. Not out of fear – he couldn't imagine Freed being scared – but out of restraint. Perhaps he would have punched Laxus if he said the wrong thing. Perhaps he would have deserved it.

"Its fine," Freed said, and Laxus deflated.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I accept your apology," Freed sent him a small smile. "If you can believe it, your reaction was probably one of the best I've gotten; other gay men not withstanding of course."

"Seriously?" Laxus frowned. "I've been feeling shit about it, how much worse could it have been?"

"I've been beaten, spat at, yelled at. Most recently I got that letter from my publisher," Freed laughed a little, and it was clearly cynical. "It's a funny world we live in, where the best reaction I can get for telling someone about the gender I wish to love is a confused and somewhat judgemental silence."

That made Laxus feel like shit. He had no idea how much it must hurt Freed.

"But that's the reality of the world, and I can't change that," Freed sighed. "Speaking of unfortunate realities, we had some new passengers aboard and society dictates I must be polite to them."

The speed in which Freed changed topics almost gave Laxus whiplash. It highlighted just how well-versed Freed was in keeping his sexuality – and the feelings and opinions that came with it – under the surface of his personality. It was honesty jarring.

Laxus stood out of Freed's way, looking down at the floor again; perhaps he was ashamed of himself, or just shocked at the reality of Freed's life. The writer chuckled a little at the reaction, gave Laxus a solitary pat on the shoulder as if to say he understood what Laxus was going through, and started to walk to the door of their cabin.

"I really am sorry, Freed," Laxus said a final time.

"I know you are," Freed said, almost kindly. "Good day, Laxus."

~~~

Day Five: Evening

"I wanna tell you everything."

Laxus was lying in his bunk, looking up at the wooden ceiling. Freed was in the bed below him, and the room was dark without the candle or sunlight illuminating it. Laxus had no idea what the time was, exactly, but could assume it had been hours since the sun had set. The only reason he knew Freed was still awake was because he could hear him moving slightly in the bed.

Throughout the day, Laxus had been thinking. Freed had been open with him, about something that had gotten him injured and degraded in the past no less. And Laxus was still holding onto why he was on the train in the first place; something comparatively inconsequential.

"If you're ready," Freed replied slowly.

"Yeah, I think I am," Laxus nodded to himself. "I don't know if you wanna get a notepad or something…"

"I can remember," Freed assured him. "Speak when you feel comfortable."

Again, Laxus nodded. He took a moment to try and arrange his thoughts, wanting to be as honest and as open Freed had been with him. The story as to why Laxus needed to get on the train was literally the only thing Freed wanted in payment for becoming an accomplice in Laxus' crime, he needed to be as clear headed as he could. Out of respect for the man who had saved him.

"I guess, in a way, it started when I was a teenager," Laxus began. "I lived in Paris, with my grandfather. It was just the two of us most of the time, my mom had died and my dad… we'll get to him. So basically my grandfather raised me, and I had a pretty good life with him, but we argued a lot. It got worse when I was around sixteen.

"My dad had gotten in contact with me, we sent letters to each other a lot. Gramps found out and went insane, started yelling at me. Telling me to cut him out of his life, that he's a lowlife and scum. Didn't believe him, of course. Which only made things worse."

Laxus sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't like being reminded of the last time he saw his grandfather; the screaming matches were something he wasn't proud of.

"I ignored my grandad and kept in contact with my dad. He seemed like this perfect guy. He was rich and powerful, made himself out to be one of the most influential people in Athens," Laxus sighed. "And of course I fucking lapped that up like an idiot. I lived with this weird old man and then my dad showed up, acting like he was this man of power who everyone respected. Made his life look perfect and I wanted to be involved in it."

"That's understandable," Freed replied, mainly to show he was listening.

"I guess," Laxus sighed. "Me and Gramps argued more and more. I got closer to my dad, complained about Gramps to him, and then one day he showed up. Out of the blue, he was on the doorstep. Some rich guy dressed in designer clothes and expensive watches just was there. He seemed charming, like a good dad, so of course I fell for his bullshit.

"Gramps came home, went fucking mad. Tried to kick him out, say he wasn't welcome and to stop contacting me. I backed my dad up, like a fucking dickhead. And clearly my dad saw this as an opportunity, because this was the height of me and Gramps' arguing, he offered to take me with him."

Laxus sighed. He remembered how hopeful he had been. Ivan seemed to promise him the world, and he stupidly believed him.

"And I said yes," He said, eyes closing. "Gramps begged me not to, said Ivan was lying to me, but I wouldn't believe him. I packed up my shit, got on the train the same day."

"I assume," Freed said cautiously. "That it wasn't like you hoped."

"Fuck no," Laxus almost laughed at the idea. "He wasn't anything fucking like what he said. He was just a crappy wannabe thug, sucking up to anyone who could help him. And he was in debt to the Tartaros family, a group of hardcore gangsters who fucking ran Greece. And it wasn't like he owed him some spare change; he'd taken fucking thousands from them. Which they wanted back.

"That's why he got me in Greece, actually. He needed money, and I was a way to get it. Started off as menial work, heavy lifting and crap. Then it got worse, like selling guns and drugs to other thugs, and booze, during prohibition. He even tried to whore me out to any girl who'd pay."

"Jesus," Freed whispered.

"That was the limit for me," Laxus sighed. "I didn't wanna do any of that shit, but I wasn't going to fuck old women just to get him out of trouble. I was sixteen for fucks sake!"

Laxus took a breath to calm himself. The resentment he had for his father still ignited anytime he thought about him. Who fucking pimped their own son out, when they were a kid no less? That was just who Ivan was. Even his first letter to Laxus had a clear agenda, Laxus realised later in life. He was asking how comfortable he was with his grandfather and if he was living well; if Laxus had spoken about any riches Ivan would have no doubt tried to guilt him into giving them to him.

"I told him he couldn't make me do any of the shit he wanted me to do," Laxus continued after a moment. "He went insane at me. Said that I would do exactly what he said, and that everything I had in Athens was because of him, and he could take it away. I called his bluff, and he did. Threw me out with nothing but what I was wearing."

"Shit," Freed cussed, and Laxus laughed.

"Honestly, as shit as it was, I was glad. I didn't have much to begin with, and all he had to offer me was a place to live, so I didn't miss much. And I couldn't live with him anymore," Laxus sighed. "It was shit, for a while. Had to sleep on the streets, got mistaken for a drunk. But I eventually got some work, it was at a brothel as a guard, but landlord gave me a room in payment. And then I just grew into my own man from there."

"It sounds like it was a blessing in disguise then," Freed commented. "Your father kicking you out, I mean."

"Oh definitely," Laxus nodded. "Anyway, I'll actually get to why I'm on the train. So, yesterday I got a letter from Paris. I hadnt spoken to Gramps since I left, so it was weird. Turns out, Gramps is sick. Pretty badly, actually."

"I'm sorry," Freed said, and it sounded genuine.

"Thanks," Laxus nodded to himself again. "The letter was from the doctor, and it explained what's wrong with him. He probably won't die from it, but life ain't gonna be easy for him. His mobility is fucking ruined, he won't be able to get his own food and look after himself for much longer. It's pretty shit. And, I know we argued a lot, but I love the old fucker. And if he's going through hell, I'm not gonna let him do it alone. So that's why I need to get to Paris as soon as I can."

"That's an admirable stance to take," Freed commented, and Laxus chuckled.

"It would be if I hadnt basically spat in his face the last time I saw him," Laxus grinned a little; he wasn't sure why.

"I won't write about it," Freed said suddenly, and Laxus frowned. "I didn't know that it was so personal, if I'm honest. It would feel as though I'm taking advantage of you if I were to publish the intimate details of your life."

"No," Laxus said quickly. "I've gotta pay you back for your help somehow, I don't mind."

"Well, I suppose we can discuss it at some point," Freed concluded, before speaking again. "I'm glad you feel comfortable speaking to me like this."

"It's nice to have someone to talk to," Laxus admitted, flushing a little. "I've… I've been on my own for a while now. Even if the situation is pretty unusual, it's nice to have someone who I can talk to about this shit. I missed it."

"Well, at least for the rest of the week, I'll be here to listen."

"Thanks, Freed," Laxus smiled a little. "G'night."

"Goodnight, Laxus."

~~~

Day Six: Morning

Laxus woke with a start. There was a loud banging coming from the door to their cabin, clearly someone knocking who wasn't willing to be patient. Laxus' eyes shot open and he looked to Freed, who had just stood up from where he was sleeping. They looked at each other for a moment, not sure of what to do. Nobody had knocked on the door as of yet, why they were doing it now?

"Mr Justine, open this door at once," An authoritative voice demanded, and Freed winced.

"The conductor," He explained with a whisper. "Get in the washroom."

Laxus nodded and climbed down the small ladder of the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. He closed the door to the washroom with a soft click and leant his ear against it in an attempt to listen to whatever was happening. He felt a ball of nerves form in him as Freed opened the door.

"I must say, I think this behaviour is completely unacceptable," Freed said sternly, and Laxus could hear footsteps. "This is my private quarters and you have no right to disrupt me in this manner."

"Well, Mr Justine, I have reason to believe you're harbouring a stowaway."

Laxus' eyes widened, and panic flooded through him. He rested his forehead against the wall as quietly as he could. This was it; he was fucked. It wasn't as if Freed could physically stop them from opening the door, not without being suspicious enough to show he was hiding something.

"Excuse me?" Freed said, acting shocked. "Why would you think that, exactly."

"One of our maids came to your room this morning to make sure any laundry was collected. When she entered your room, she saw that there was someone sleeping in the top bunk of the bed," The conductor snapped. "And by the looks of the sheets, she seems to be correct."

"I made it explicitly clear that my room was not to be entered without my direct permission," Freed almost shouted, now sounding genuinely angry.

"And now I can see why, Mr Justine," The conductor said replied with as much hostility. "I'm sure you're aware that smuggling someone into a train is a serious crime. More so when this train travels across multiple countries."

Laxus snapped. They were threatening Freed, and it wasn't right.

The blonde opened the door to the washroom. Both Freed and the conductor snapped their heads towards Laxus at the sound of the door opening. Freed looked at him like he was mad for revealing himself, as if Freed had been handling the situation. Despite the confidence that Freed portrayed, Laxus knew what was going to happen. They would find him, and either both of them would be punished, or just Laxus. One outcome would be better than the other.

"He didn't smuggle me in," Laxus said before anyone could speak. "I snuck on without him. He didn't know I was here until we left the station in Athens."

"And would you like to explain why he wouldn't inform us of a stowaway?" The conductor said with venom in his tone, face red. He clearly wasn't happy with the situation.

"Because you would have police waiting for him at the next train station," Freed said before Laxus could speak. "The punishment would greatly outweigh the crime, if it can even be considered that. I wouldn't accept that."

"Fucks sake Freed," Laxus whispered. "Saying that shit incriminates you."

"The stowaway's intelligent," The conductor muttered sarcastically. "And you're correct, the police will be called and waiting for your little friend when we arrive in the next station later today. I imagine they will want to talk to you as well, Mr Justine."

Laxus deflated; he wouldn't get to Paris now. He had no idea what damn country he was in, let alone the actual town or city they would end up in, so there was no chance of him finding a way to his grandfather. And that was being optimistic, it was more likely that he would be locked in the closest jail until he could work off the money he would owe. He was fucked.

"Now, the two of you can either follow me to my office for the rest of the day, or I can have my man take you through in handcuffs," The conductor continued. "What would you rather-"

"What if I paid?" Freed interrupted.

"Excuse me?" The conductor snapped his head towards Freed again.

"Your only legitimate legal complaint is that Laxus didn't pay to be here, correct," Freed said, voice stern and almost authoritative. Laxus looked at him with a frown. "If I were to pay for his ticket now, then you would have nothing to be concerned about, correct?"

"Well…"

"Legally speaking, the problem would be over. There is nothing stopping him from paying at a slightly later date," Freed continued, eyes determined. "And I know your boss. Personally, too, as it goes. It's how I was able to get a private cabin. He would rather have another paying customer than a controversy, so allowing me to pay now is the better option, no?"

Laxus frowned, not knowing if this would work. When he looked over to the conductor, he looked enraged, and Freed was smirking. Laxus then understood what was happening; the conductor wanted to have him kicked off the train – most likely to fuel some sort of ego – and Freed had quickly come up with an idea to stop that. And apparently the conductor was trying and failing to come up with a way to counter Freed.

"I should warn you, Mr Justine, that it won't be cheap," The conductor eventually said. "We have to make sure we are in profit, and we can't know for sure how much he has cost us since he boarded. So, the bill will consist of a full price ticket from our first stop to our last, it will include the costs of three meals a day, as well as making accommodations for any miscellaneous costs that may arise."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Freed complained. "You're clearly taking advantage of our situation to take more than you are owed."

"Much like he would have if we hadn't found him, no?" The conductor taunted, and Freed clenched his jaw.

"I don't have that much money in cash on me," Freed said quietly, anger flaring in him.

"Well, that is a shame," The conductor was smiling wide now. "So, if you'd like to follow me-"

"But I do have proposition," Freed said before the conductor finished. "I'm a writer, as you know, and I write under the pseudonym Albion Raijin. You've heard of that name, correct?"

Laxus' eyes widened a little at Freed's admission. The name was familiar, and when Laxus looked towards the closed book on the desk, and the name was printed onto it under the title. So Freed had written the books that Laxus was enjoying? That… made sense, actually. That would be why Freed wanted to know what he thought. It also explained why he had a copy of each book in the series with him; it would have been something to do with the press tour.

"Well, yes, of course I have," The conductor grunted. "But I hardly see how that matters."

"I have a book being published later this year. It's been predicted that it will sell well. My proposal is that a percentage of the profits made from this book for the first year will be sent towards your employer. Within a month Laxus' debt will be paid; by the end of the year it will be more than fulfilled."

"And how do I know you won't deny such a deal existed the moment you leave this train?" The conductor crossed his arms. "You've proven yourself not to be trustworthy, Mr Justine."

"There's a lawyer aboard, a Miss Heartfilia. She can write a contract that would enforce this deal, I'm sure," Freed said with certainty. He looked at the conductor, and then he sighed. "I'm sure she could also write a clause that would direct a further percentage directly into your wallet."

There was a moment of silence.

"Five percent," The conductor muttered.

"No," Freed stood firm. "The most you'll get is three."

Laxus looked at Freed in disbelief.

He was just giving away his money for Laxus' sake. The worst punishment Freed could get for 'harbouring' Laxus would be a fine, he was rich and could pay bail after all. The fine wouldn't be nearly as much as he was willing to give away just to keep Laxus on the train. It was… kind. So kind. It was perhaps more kindness than Laxus had been given in years. It felt unearned.

"Freed," Laxus muttered. "You don't need to do this."

"Quiet," Freed demanded. "Your grandfather is a good man, correct?"

"Yes," Laxus mumbled.

"Then you should be there for him," Freed said, before looking at the conductor again. "Do we have a deal?"

The conductor took a moment to think again. "I'll try to find Miss Heartfilia."

The portly man turned on his heel and left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. Freed ended up closing it, and Laxus sat on the bottom bunk with his head in his hands. He deflated as relief flooded through him; both the anxiety of their conversation with the conductor and the underlying stress Laxus had felt since the moment he entered the train station in Athens leaving him. It was an odd feeling; he couldn't define it.

"You did not need to do that," Laxus said into his hands, looking up to Freed. "That's a fuck load of money you just gave away for a guy you don't know. That's really generous. You didn't… why did you do that?"

"Most of my family have disowned me, after they found out about my sexuality," Freed explained, sitting at the desk. "The only person who didn't was my uncle. He died, and I wasn't there to say goodbye to him. Thinking of it makes me ache, and if I can make sure it doesn't happen to you then I will."

"Well, thanks," Laxus didn't know what else to say. "So… You're the author, huh? You were pretty hard on him- well, yourself I guess. I didn't see you as the self-loathing kind."

"I'm not," Freed chuckled. "I just found it amusing you hadnt figured it out and wanted to play up to it."

"So you just did it to amuse yourself?" Laxus laughed when Freed nodded. "You are…. the oddest man I think I've met."

"I take that as a compliment," Freed smiled. "I assume you'll be looking forward to leaving the cabin and eating three meals a day again."

"You have no damn idea," Laxus groaned at the thought.

"Well, with how vastly we're overpaying for our time here, from this point on we will both live and eat like kings," Freed smirked, and Laxus copied the action. So this was how Freed was going to get this money back? Laxus could more than get on board with it.

"Looking forward to it," The blonde grinned.

~~~

Day Six: Evening.

"This actually doesn't fit me that badly," Laxus said as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He was wearing a suit that didn't belong to him fit with a waistcoat, pocket watch and tie. Freed had taken it from one of the suitcases stored in the luggage cart, giving it to Laxus so that he could be dressed correctly as they went to dinner.

When Laxus had asked why Freed had a suit of this size, he had explained that, while in Greece, he had collected a selection of clothing for his friend Bickslow. Bickslow was apparently a fashion-conscious man who knew of a designer who only sold his clothes in Greece and he had all but begged Freed to get him as many suits as his trunk could contain. He was also relatively similar in stature to Laxus, meaning that the blonde could wear these clothes without looking absurd. They were a little snug, but okay.

And Laxus was glad to be wearing something other than the ratty outfit he'd worn over the past few weeks.

"High class clothing rather suits you," Freed commented as he began to tie his hair. "You should consider investing in some suits of that type."

"If you've got a way for me to pay for it, then by all means," Laxus chuckled. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I'm a little anxious about going out there, if I'm honest."

"Why so?" Freed asked with a small frown.

"Everyone's gonna know who I am," Laxus sighed. "The stowaway bastard who got caught sneaking around. They're all gonna be fucking looking at me – judging me – and I don't know if I can handle it."

"Well, that is ridiculous," Freed said, almost sternly. "You have just as much right as anyone to be in that dining cart. If they disagree, to hell with their opinion. You're here with me, not them."

"I guess but…" Laxus sighed. "It's fucking embarrassing, okay. I'm a charity case in a train full of snobs."

"You are not a charity case, I can assure you of that," Freed said, voice firm and unwilling to accept any other interpretation of the situation. "And after dealing with these people for six days, I can also assure you that they are nothing. A mess of socialites, idiots with money, and inflated egos. Their opinions are redundant, as they don't have the intellectual capacity to understand anything that they haven't lived through. And for the few exceptions to those rules, they will undoubtedly find you charming."

"Do you find me charming?" Laxus asked. He didn't know why, exactly.

"Of course," Freed replied honestly. "You're different to most people I've met. They consider a minor tax increase as an afront to their human rights. You, on the other hand, are a real person with his feet firmly attached to the ground."

"You sound pissed off at the people you know," Laxus laughed, and Freed sighed.

"Some of them are tolerable. Others try to commission me to write a letter of complaint to the tax office because they lost a minuscule amount of their yearly earnings," Freed smirked a little. "He was not happy when I wrote perhaps the most sarcastic letter in history and then demanded my payment."

"Sounds like a good read," Laxus grinned.

"I've framed it and hung it above my fireplace. It's one of my most prized possessions," Freed grinned. "If you have time, I could perhaps show it to you when we get to Paris."

Laxus smiled a little at the invitation. He hadn't considered the possibility that he and Freed would remain in contact after they left the train, but if they were both going to be living in Paris then there was probably no reason as to why they couldn't. Even if it was something as little as a monthly trip to a café together, Laxus would probably enjoy it.

"Now," Freed continued, voice harsh. "Your anxiety about this is worthless. If any of those people do have a problem, they wouldn't dare say it in fear of making a scene. So as long as you don't allow yourself to be affected by it, it's not there."

"I guess that's true," Laxus nodded, though wasn't convinced.

"Of course it is," Freed nodded. "You ready?"

Laxus nodded, and Freed left the cabin with the blonde following him. It was weird to leave the cabin after being trapped inside of it for nearly six full days. It was almost therapeutic for the blonde to walk down the corridor of the sleeper cart, both in that it allowed him to see things that he wasn't already incredibly familiar with, as well as allowing him to properly stretch his legs. He hadnt realised how cooped up he had felt in the cabin. Though, the cabin was a lot more appealing when he didn't have a choice about leaving it.

Freed led him through the train and to the dining cart, which was partially filled with people. Laxus hadnt taken time to appreciate just how lavish the train was when he first entered it. The cart was decorated with gold ornaments, it had waiters pouring expensive wine, and had a general feeling of wealth.

When the two men entered, a fair amount of people looked towards them. The stowaway and the famous author; what other reaction could Laxus have hoped for?

Freed didn't seem affected by the gazes and glances they were receiving, instead walking through the rows of tables to one at the end of the cart. Freed sat at the table and motioned for Laxus to do the same with the chair opposite him. Laxus did so, wondering if Freed had purposefully made it so that Laxus had his back to the rest of the dining cart. If he did, Laxus was thankful of the action, because he did feel more comfortable without seeing people looking at him.

"Take your time with the menu," Freed said, tapping his cigar against the case before lighting it.

"You know what you're ordering?" Laxus asked, frowning a little.

"The menu is the same every night, I've become quite familiar with it," Freed explained, beckoning a waiter over. The waiter filled both of their glasses with red wine.

Laxus quickly looked over the menu, to see a number of luxury dishes for him to try. His stomach growled at the prospect of eating any of them; a small part of Laxus wondered if he would have had time to try all of them if he had been found out earlier in the week. He didn't say that, of course, as Freed was being kind enough to pay for all of this out of his own pocket. Complaining about not getting enough luxury food would just be too far.

"Is it nice to be outside of the room?" Freed asked when Laxus placed the menu down, having made his choice.

"It's great," Laxus smiled a little, taking a sip of the wine. It didn't taste that different from the crap wine that he served to drunks in Athens. "I think if I had to stay in there any longer I might have gone a little stir crazy."

"Really, I thought a man of your size would have loved being trapped in a relatively small space," Freed chuckled, placing the cigar on an ashtray and taking a sip of the wine. "And I'm sure you would have managed if you had to. You survived off half of a breakfast for your entire daily intake; you're clearly quite a resilient man."

"Thanks," Laxus ducked his head a little. "But it was more than half of the breakfast. Thanks for that, by the way. Especially when I was acting like a tool, you didn't need to do it."

Freed paused, looking at Laxus inquisitively. "You have issues with taking compliments, don't you Laxus?"

Laxus paused for a moment, taken aback by his observation. One of the many waiters approached them before Laxus could reply to what Freed said, and the author gave his order without blinking: a beef wellington with a side of fried potatoes, gravy, and mixed vegetables. Slightly blindsided, Laxus ordered as well: a steak with a cheese sauce, garlic mushrooms and mashed potatoes. The waiter left a moment later, promising that their food would be out soon. The fact he would be eating something other than breakfast food made Laxus' stomach growl again.

As they waited for their food to arrive, they spoke almost constantly. Freed was apparently a natural conversationalist and managed to make Laxus feel comfortable in a situation that was completely foreign to him.

The wine might have helped with that.

When their food did come, it looked incredible. The portions were larger than Laxus had expected, and it looked cooked to perfection. Laxus shouldn't have expected anything else, and he picked up his fork immediately to start eating. As he brought a forkful of steak to his lips, he glanced towards Freed, who was looking at him with a smile.

"Should I have waited?" Laxus asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"No," Freed shook his head slightly, cutting up his beef wellington. "It's just interesting to see you outside the confines of the cabin. And to see you smiling; I didn't want to say anything, but the stress of the situation was showing. It's nice to see you a little relaxed."

"Well, it's thanks to you. I really am grateful for what you did earlier," Laxus smiled, a little guilty.

"You've said. And you really don't need to thank me so often. If I hadn't acted I would have been a hypocrite and I refuse to let that happen," Freed smiled. "So, I propose that we toast the situation, and then speak no more of it."

"I guess," Laxus nodded, raising his wine glass. Freed did the same and clinked it against Laxus'.

After that, conversation began again. It was loose and easy, the two joking with each other. Freed did most of the talking, as Laxus was focusing mainly on the food before him. His stomach was more than grateful for having a real meal, and he was going to enjoy every damn bite of it. Freed seemed to notice this, and had a waiter bring an extra portion of potatoes and mushrooms. Laxus would have argued, but his stomach wouldn't allow it.

By the time dessert was served – a small chocolate pudding alongside a bowl of apple pie and custard – Laxus had almost entirely forgotten about his previous misgivings and anxieties about entering the dining room. If people did look at him, he was no longer bothered by it.

Again, the bottle of wine they shared between them might have helped with that.

They ate and drank deep into the evening, and by the time their meal was completed the sun had set and the train was illuminated by candlelight. It was atmospheric, and rather nice to look at. A fleeting thought said that it was almost romantic, but Laxus dismissed it immediately. Before he could dwell on it, Freed suggested they retire for the night and return to their cabin. Laxus agreed.

The walk back down the train was a little hazy, again due to the wine. The fact the train's cabins were almost identical didn't help either.

"Hey Freed," Laxus said, voice a little bedraggled as Freed opened the door to their cabin.

"Yes?"

"So, being… gay isn't just fucking guy's right? It's romance and kissing too?"

"It depends on the person," Freed explained, frowning a little at the sudden question. "For some people, romance is a big part of it. Other people are too afraid of being found out, and only act on their base desires rather than romantic. But yes, for me it's more than just sex."

Laxus thought for a moment, watching as Freed closed the door.

The second it was closed, Laxus pushed Freed up against it and started to kiss him.

It was an unfamiliar feeling – the women Laxus had kissed in the past had softer lips – and the feeling of Freed against his was unusual but not bad. Instead, it was actually better than his experience with women. When he kissed back, Freed had a little more bite to his actions, was less passive than the women Laxus seemed to attract, and Laxus found himself liking that a lot more than he thought he would. It was good.

After a few seconds, Laxus felt Freed's hands on his chest, pushing him away slightly. When they pulled apart, Freed had an almost concerned expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" Freed whispered, both confused and worried.

"I need to see something," Laxus murmured, voice unsure. "Just, I need to- let me do this."

He kissed Freed again, and Freed kissed him back.

~~~

Day Seven: Morning

When Laxus woke, it was with Freed in his arms.

A momentary flood of panic filled him, and the memories of what he and Freed had done came to him. He had gotten a little drunk over dinner, and Laxus had started to see Freed in a different light that was less than platonic. When they returned to their cabin, Laxus had felt weirdly confident in his confused feelings and had pushed Freed against the door and kissed him before the confidence could leave him.

Kissed him. Nothing more.

They had moved their kissing to the lower bed, and Laxus had a vague memory of running his hands over the man's body. It had been strong, powerful, almost intimidating but equally inviting. It was different to what Laxus was used to in a lover; perhaps better. But other than slight groping, nothing more happened. Freed had stopped him, claiming Laxus wasn't thinking straight, and the blonde had fallen asleep before he could protest.

Laxus was really fucking thankful for him doing that. Because, as he looked at the man sleeping in his arms, it felt as if the ball of nerves that had been slowly building inside of him had burst. Panic started to fill him.

He and Freed had kissed.

A lot.

Laxus had wanted to take the man to bed for god's sake! He wanted to have sex with a man!

His breathing started to get shorter and shorter, eyes widening at he looked down at Freed again. The man who he nearly had sex with. Panic flooding him, he removed himself from Freed's bunk as quickly as he could. He probably could have been more careful, but as he paced around the cabin with a level of fear rushing across him, whether Freed was awake or not was the last thing on his mind.

He ran his hand through his hair, walking towards the washroom. He filled a bowl with cold water and dunked his head into it, the shock of the temperature change momentarily freezing him. His panic lessoned a little, but not enough to calm him down.

"Laxus," Freed's tries voice said, but the blonde ignored him. "Laxus, look at me."

When Laxus payed no mind to the man, Freed walked to him, took his head between his hands and forced eye contact with him. Despite the fact that Freed was essentially the reason for this panic attack, it was weirdly calming to see his face. His breathing calmed slightly, and Freed gave him a soft smile.

"Take your time," Freed continued, voice calming. "When you're ready, I want you to lie down and close your eyes. It'll calm you down."

Laxus allowed Freed to guide him to the bed, laid down and closed his eyes. As Freed had said, it was a weirdly effective remedy for his panic attack. The slight juddering of the train moving was therapeutic, along with the pseudo-silence of the passing sounds of nature coming from the open window of their cabin. Still making an effort to keep his breathing steady, Laxus felt the brunt of his anxiety fade away. He was still thinking about what had happened and had no idea what was going to happen going forward, but he was at least not on the brink of having a breakdown.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Freed had turned the desk chair around and was looking at him with an expression that was either regretful of pitying; perhaps a mixture of both. He offered Laxus a glass of water, which he took.

"If it makes you feel better," Freed began, voice calm and soothing. "I promise what happened will remain between the two of us. Nobody will know, and you can work on forgetting it."

The promise should have been more comforting than it was. Because, knowing Freed, he would make sure that nobody knew, and it would end up being something Laxus would only have to push to the back of his mind. And yet, the feeling left a dull sensation in his stomach. Something akin to disappointment…

He had enjoyed kissing Freed. And he had wanted to take it further.

Where that thought had scared him before, it now left him confused.

"I don't want to forget it," Laxus said, sitting up. "At least, I think I don't. I don't really know what I'm feeling about it."

"Well, as someone who has been in that situation, I might be able to help," Freed offered, and Laxus let out a small, tentative nod. "I can imagine that was at least your first time doing such a thing with another man. Have you ever considered the fact you might have an interest in men before, or is this the first time?"

"No," Laxus shook his head. "It's all new. I'm kinda scared, honestly."

"That's okay, it's natural," Freed said, patting Laxus' hand. "I don't know if this will help, but there is categorically nothing wrong with being gay. The people who say otherwise are incorrect, bigoted and simply cruel."

Laxus wished that helped more than it did.

"Furthermore, the concept of being attracted to men is not as… binary as you might think," Freed patted his hand. "For example, just because you might want to kiss a man, it doesn't mean you don't want to kiss women as well. It is different for every person, to some extent. It might take some time to discover who exactly you are, and that's okay."

"Thanks," Laxus murmured, nodding a little. That was comforting, actually. "How did you do that?"

"Experimentation, predominantly," Freed explained. "I tried to engage in romances and sexual encounters with women, and with men when I could. I could be platonically close to women, but not romantically nor sexually. But with these men, it was different. It felt better; both exhilarating and comfortable."

"Right…" Laxus nodded.

Experimenting, as Freed had called it, seemed like the right thing to do. But it wasn't as if Laxus knew how to find these men. He knew that, if you looked in the right places, there would be a tavern where you could find a man to take to bed. But, if he was honest, Laxus wanted to date. To marry, at some point.

Admittedly, doing that with a man would be difficult, but the point was that he wanted a life partner. He was a romantic traditionalist; ironic given the situation he found himself in.

Freed looked at him with a concerned expression. "I have a suggestion."

"Go ahead," Laxus mumbled.

"Well, you only kissed me last night after I told you that men could be romantic together as well as sexual. So you seem to want to date someone. And you have some kind of attraction to me, and I to you," Freed explained slowly. "So what if, for the rest of the time we're here, we act as a couple. When we go to dinner tonight we class it as a date rather than simply a meal between friends, we can kiss at the end of the night if you wish, and perhaps even share the bed again if you feel comfortable. And then tomorrow, when we leave the train, we can discuss how you're feeling. If you wish to forget it, we can. If you wish to break contact with me and not speak again, we can. But if you wish to continue something romantic between us, we can do that too."

Laxus thought for a moment. "Are you sure you wanna do that? I mean…"

A lot of reasons as to why Freed wouldn't want to do that came to mind. For one, it would almost feel as if he were leading Freed on if he decided men weren't where his interests lay. And even if they were, would Freed want to be with someone going through something this big? Hell, would Freed want to be with someone so under his station? Freed was a gentleman and a scholar – literally so – whereas Laxus was a homeless criminal.

"Laxus, I've been where you are and I know how hard it can be," Freed smiled. "And, I'm attracted to you. You're a handsome man, with a brilliant personality and, honestly, you're a good kisser."

Laxus laughed. "You really think so? Nobody ever said that before."

"Well, the women you have kissed clearly don't appreciate a good man when presented with one," Freed said firmly.

"I'm a good man, huh?" Laxus said with a small frown.

"I'd be proud to have you on my arm," Freed said, unblinking.

It was a minor compliment, but it made Laxus feel… giddy. Laxus couldn't remember the last time he had been given a compliment like that, not one by someone who didn't have some kind of ulterior motive at least. It was almost pathetic how wide his smile was at the small phrase, and the blush on his cheeks didn't help.

"Well," Laxus said, smiling a little nervously. "Tonight I will be."

~~~

Day Seven: Evening

Sitting at the bar with Freed was a really good feeling, actually. Laxus had initially been a bit nervous, not entirely sure what a 'date' would be like with Freed – he wasn't comfortable kissing Freed in front of people, and he didn't know if Freed would want to do that – but he was actually enjoying it. Freed was respectful, and although there wasn't a particularly big difference in how they were acting around each other, it did have a different feeling. A little more charged.

Freed was more happy to give compliments and did so openly. Mainly they were about his personality, but there was a few on his looks. He said them confidentially, and Laxus had been a little concerned the first few times, but nobody seemed to care. Laxus wondered if Freed had perfected what personal compliments he could say before they were found out.

Honestly, despite how utterly stupid it was to think this way, Laxus kind of liked the risk.

He didn't know what would happen if they were caught and refused to let it happen. He was honestly terrified by the idea of someone other than Freed knowing about his potential feeling for men.

But, some small and twisted part of him was excited. They had a secret, and they were kind of flaunting it.

"You know, I was thinking actually," Freed spoke with a glass of gin in his hand. "It's sort of ironic that I agreed to help you because I wanted an interesting story to write about, and I'm considering actually writing about our time on the train."

"Really?" Laxus frowned.

"I think it would make for a good story," Freed shrugged. "I'd of course have to make some changes, add more suspense to everything. Other alterations to make it more marketable."

The emphasis on the word marketable made Laxus relax. From what he knew about Freed's publisher, he wouldn't consider two men dating in any way marketable, so Freed was probably trying to suggest that the romantic part of their journey wouldn't be involved in Freed's writing. That was good because, despite it being almost impossible to tie Freed's writing to Laxus, he didn't want to tempt fate in them being found out.

"Well, I mean I ain't a writer, but if you need any help from me then just ask," Laxus offered, and Freed smiled.

"I might just do that," He said as he emptied the rest of his drink. "It's a little warm in here. There's a small outdoor area where we boarded, it acts like a balcony in transit. Would you like to go there before we retire for the night?"

"Sounds fine," Laxus nodded.

The two men walked through the drinking carriage and to the door at the end, where they entered a small metal platform at the rear of the vehicle. The night sky was cloudless, and stars shone brightly, illuminating the tracks. The wind was a little choppy, and after Laxus closed the door, Laxus understood why Freed had taken him out here.

The wind would block out any conversation to anyone trying to listen in on them, making it perhaps the most private part on the train. Freed leant on the metal railing, the wind flowing through his hair as he looked to Laxus.

"So," He began. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Laxus nodded a little, joining Freed while resting on the railing. "The meal was good, and the drinks are pretty nice. And you know that I like being around you-"

"I more meant how you are doing in general," Freed corrected, smiling softly. "It can't be overstated how stressful a situation this can be for a person. You seem to be taking it well, and I just wondered if you're actually okay or just internalising it."

"It's messing me up, honestly," Laxus sighed. He hadnt wanted to admit it to Freed; it was rude to interrupt a date with his own problems. "I don't really know what I'm feeling. It's kinda like I'm numb. I feel like I should be really freaked out by all of this, but I'm not. But I am panicked, just not as much as I should be. I was more panicked about getting caught by the police in the train station even though this is kinda worse so…"

"That seems good, I think," Freed said, comfortingly. "You've always seemed rather pragmatic about yourself. Perhaps you've realised that this is part of who you are, and you've accepted it on some level."

"Maybe I have," Laxus shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just taking it as it comes. Acting on instinct, it's what I've always done."

"It seems to have worked for you so far," Freed grinned a little. "So, as I interrupted you before, how do you think this date is going?"

"I'm really enjoying it actually," Laxus admitted, a little flushed as he spoke. In his past relationships, his opinions of things weren't overly considered. "It's a little weird knowing you're another man, but honestly, it's been fun. You're a good guy to go on a date with."

"I try my best," Freed laughed.

"Well, you're good at it," Laxus muttered. "You enjoying it? I kinda think this is more about me than you, feel a little guilty."

"Well you shouldn't. You're going through a lot. Besides, I'm enjoying myself. You're good company," He grin took a small wicked glint. "And you really shouldn't feel guilty. Because right now, those trousers are shaping around your arse to perfection and I am more than making the best of it."

"Shut up," Laxus muttered, flushing red. Nobody had ever given him a compliment like that before!

"Oh don't get coy now, Laxus," Freed chuckled. "I know a man who does squats when I see one. You've cultivated your arse to look like that, at least let me enjoy it."

Laxus laughed a bit, unable to meet Freed's eyes. He was unashamedly complimenting him on his body, something that had never happened with any of his relationships with women. Honestly, as weirdly pathetic as this felt, Laxus enjoyed having this amount of attention on him. While he was blushing, he did allow a smile to grace his features.

"Well, you ain't bad looking either," Laxus mumbled. "At least to me, but I'm no expert on what makes a man look good."

"You've managed to make yourself look incredibly handsome, don't be so hard on yourself," Freed chuckled.

Laxus couldn't say anything, out of fear that he would stutter and make a fool of himself. Freed simply let out a small and teasing laugh, which Laxus didn't mind; over the last week Freed had proven himself to be non-judgmental on the important things. They stayed out for a little while longer before the chill got too cold to take, and they both agreed that it would be best to return to their cabin for the night. It was getting late, after all.

As they did, Laxus did something he wasn't particularly proud of. Freed was walking in front of him, and Laxus allowed his eyes to stray down to the writer's ass. It was weird, and Laxus felt his stomach flip a little. He knew what the feeling was. He was turned on by the man and was confident about it. He didn't say anything until they reached the door and Freed unlocked the cabin.

"Don't stop me this time," Laxus whispered into his ear before they entered the room. "Because I know I want this."

~~~

Day Seven: Night (N S F W)

Kissing Freed was amazing, Laxus had concluded.

He was rough and strong with his movements, almost as if he saw the kiss as a challenge. His hands were resting deep in his blonde hair, tugging at it occasionally and making Laxus groan at the feeling. Whenever he had kissed someone before it had felt like he was doing all the work, but right now he was feeling great. There was so much more going on than in his past kisses; so much more to feel and enjoy.

Freed dragged him to the bottom bunk of the bed. Freed sat, and Laxus lowered himself to maintain the kiss. Again on instinct, Laxus found his hands roaming the other man's body, and it ignited a fire. There was so much power in him, so much strength.

God it was hot.

Freed didn't stop him this time, instead his hands started to roam over Laxus' body. He pulled the dinner jacket off Laxus, throwing it to the floor, and the act of having a piece of his outfit being taken off him sent a thrill down Laxus. It was happening, he was going to fuck another man, and the idea of it was exhilarating. His dick strained in his trousers.

Laxus was just as eager, pulling off Freed's jacket with less elegance than Freed had. He quickly unbuttoned the man's waistcoat, and that was thrown to the floor as well. Freed pulled his lips away from Laxus, looked at him for a moment, then grinned.

He had been checking if Laxus was truly into this. He definitely was.

Freed's lips were suddenly on his neck, and an unfamiliar sensation of sucking and nibbling sensation overtook the blonde. The skin on his neck was more sensitive that he thought it could be, and the feeling of Freed almost attacking it with his tongue and teeth was incredible. This was all so fucking overwhelming in the best damn way.

"Shit," Laxus let out a whine.

"Laxus," Freed whispered, pulling his lips away from his neck. "You know idea how much I would love to hear your moans and watch you lose control, but I need you to be quiet. We'll get caught otherwise."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry," Laxus whispered.

"If it helps, I could gag you with one of my ties," Freed teased, and the threat sent a pulse of intense arousal straight to Laxus' dick.

He had never been with a lover like this before. One who had a little bite to them, who could challenge Laxus and make him feel good. This wasn't going to be just him pleasuring another person, it was going to be the two of them making each other feel good. And Laxus was so fucking ready to make himself and Freed feel good.

With slightly stumbling hands, he worked on undoing the buttons to Freed's shirt and pulled it off. The expanse of strong muscle was so fucking hot to Laxus in a way the blonde didn't understand, and Laxus felt overcome by instincts.

He moved them both fully onto the bed. Freed was lying face up, Laxus was over him on all fours.

Laxus ripped open his shirt and tossed it to the side before kissing him again, their strong bodies pushed against each other. The feeling of Freed's abs and pecs rubbing against his own body was almost orgasmic, and the blonde relished every moment of it. How he was so turned on by something so unfamiliar with was beyond Laxus, but he didn't care. He was following his instincts on this, and they were screaming at him to ravish this man.

With slightly unsure movements, he began to grope the other man over his trousers. The feeling of another man's hard cock against his hand was unusual, but the fact it quivered in his hand spurred Laxus on. He was making Freed feel good, and Laxus loved that.

His eyes shot open a moment later when he felt hands on his own tenting crotch. Freed was taking his trousers off for him; a feeling so incredible that Laxus felt a small trickle of pre-cum leak from the tip of his dick.

God he wanted this so much.

After Freed had pushed the blonde' trousers down as far as possible, Laxus kicked them off to the floor. Now only in his briefs, he started to work on Freed's belt and pulling his own trousers downs. Laxus didn't have the same level of subtlety – nor patience – that Freed had, taking the man's briefs down with his trousers.

Laxus looked at the naked man before him. He was sweating, his strong muscles flexing, dick straining hard. He was looking at Laxus with a small smirk, clearly knowing how much Laxus was enjoying this.

Fuck: looking at Freed like this confirmed one thing. He definitely wanted to fuck this man.

Laxus was kissing him a moment later, his underwear-clad cock rubbing against Freed's. The feeling was unusual and incredible, and Laxus was running more and more out of patience. He pulled away from Freed, cheeks red as he looked deep into his eyes. God, this was a form of intimacy that he had never felt with another person, and he was loving it.

"Can I- I mean do you mind if I-," Laxus didn't know how to phrase it.

He gestures to the hard dick in his briefs, and Freed smirked. He reached down and slid the man's briefs down his legs again, tossing them to the ground and giving a single, hard tug. Laxus grinded his teeth together so he didn't moan loud enough to be heard.

"There's some lotion in my suitcase," Freed whispered. "Give it to me."

Laxus reached over to Freed's suitcase, climbing off the man. His pupils dilated as he got a better look at the man he had just been on top of. He looked fucking incredible, with his stomach expanding slightly with every breath and showing off his gorgeous abs. His chest was perfectly defined, his thighs shockingly strong looking, his dick hard and long with two equally large balls below it. The sight of another man naked was so unusual to Laxus, but fuck did he love it.

He found the lotion and handed it to Freed, who emptied a large amount of it into his hand. Laxus watched with wide eyes as Freed brought his hand to Laxus' dick, slowly stroking it and lathering it with the lotion. His movements were purposeful and drove Laxus wild.

He was pushing his forehead against the top bunk, trying desperately not to moan.

"I can finish you off like this," Freed whispered, voice a little ragged. "But if you want, we can go further. I assume you know how men would fuck."

Laxus nodded and climbed atop Freed with a grin. He had gone this far and knew that if Freed did finish him with his hands, it would be the best orgasm he had had in years. But Laxus wanted to make Freed feel as good as he was feeling, and if buggering him was the way to do it then Laxus would gladly do so.

Freed turned himself over so that he was face down in the bed, and Laxus was presented with the fucking faultless sight of Freed's strong back and firm, round ass. It was incredibly enticing.

"Before you start, I need something to cum into," Freed whispered, and Laxus frowned. "Unless you want explain stains to the maid."

Laxus nodded, looking around for something in arms reach. He saw that his own briefs were close, and the idea of Freed jizzing into his underwear filled Laxus with an almost animalistic lust. He wanted to see that happen, wanted to be the one responsible for that happening, and picked up his briefs to hand to Freed before he could stop himself. The other man took them and slowly began to pump his dick with them on his hand.

"Start slowly," Freed instructed. "But once you get a rhythm, the speed is up to you. I can take it."

Laxus nodded, looking at his lotion covered dick. Taking a breath to ready himself, he placed his dick in front of Freed's ass and slowly pushed inside.

It was orgasmic.

The tightness of the man around him was indescribable, and was the most overwhelming, intense feeling the blonde had ever gone though. The further he pushed in, the better if felt, and the slight moan from Freed – who had been restrained up until this point – made everything so much better. This was so good.

He slowly started to move his hips back and forth, getting used to the feeling. It was insanely erotic, intense to a degree Laxus had never felt before. His nerves were on fire, and his mind went numb. It was brilliant.

Lowering his body to get closer to Freed, he started to get into a rhythm with his thrusts. He got faster, gyrating his hips carefully. Freed was pumping his own dick with Laxus' briefs, and the feeling of Freed jutting against him was incredible. It was so good, so much better than he had ever felt.

He was getting faster and faster, the intensity of the brilliance of the situation spurring him on.

The orgasm was already threatening to overtake him, but he wanted to hold on. Freed had been so good to him, so kind, and he was so fucking sexy like this. Laxus wanted to make this as good as he could for the man, and his hips started to thrust with great speed. When he looked down to Freed, the man looked at him with a grin, a tiny moan leaving his lips.

Both turning their heads, Freed pulled Laxus into a kiss. Laxus' thrusts still got faster, and Freed pushed against it while he wanked himself off.

Suddenly, Freed moaned into their kiss, eyes widening. Laxus knew what was happening.

Before he could come to terms with the fact he had brought Freed to orgasm – the fact he was spilling his seed in Laxus' briefs was a sickly incredible feeling – Freed seemed to clench his entire body. The feeling of increased tightness around his dick finally sent Laxus over the edge, and the orgasm filled all his senses.

It was like the world itself had been rocked. It was incredible.

Laxus had never felt so good, so turned on, so satisfied. It only lasted a few moments, but it was fucking insane.

Exhaustion suddenly overtook him, and Laxus felt himself collapse on the man. Freed brought Laxus' briefs to his own ass, helping Laxus remove his dick without spilling any of their cum on the bed. They shifted slightly in their positions, and Freed tossed the cum stained underwear into his open suitcase, so they were out of the way, but not able to stain anything in the cabin itself.

As they lay in the same bunk, Laxus couldn't say he was sure if he was attracted to all men.

But he sure as hell knew he was attracted to Freed. And if he got his way, that wouldn't be the last time they fucked. Because they were doing that again!

~~~

Day Eight: Morning

Getting off the train was weird. Laxus was confronted with the cold air of Paris in the wintertime, the brisk chill of a wind going through his hair as he walked through the train station, and his legs slightly unstable on unmoving ground.

He stood beside Freed, holding one of the man's two suitcases as they walked side by side; Freed had said that he didn't need to carry his luggage, but Laxus insisted that it was the absolute least he could do. Freed went to argue, but Laxus pointed out that Freed had even given him one of Bickslow's suits to keep and that doing something as small as lifting his bags was nothing in comparison to that. Freed hadnt been able to argue after that.

"So," Freed said as they left the train station. "What are your plans now?"

"Well, I sent gramps a letter the day I left, so hopefully it got to him by now," Laxus shrugged. "So go to his flat, see how I can help out. Then try and get a job, see what happens from there."

"So you'll live with your grandfather then?"

"It's the only place I've got," Laxus shrugged. "It ain't exactly the biggest flat in the world, only got one bedroom which he gave to me as a kid. Obviously he's gonna need to keep that, so I guess I'll be on the sofa. But I can deal with that."

Freed hummed contemplatively. As the writer thought, Laxus looked around Paris again. It looked different form the last time he had been there; with more decorations on the streets and a general feeling of luxury living. He doubted that the part of Paris he lived in would be as nice as this – it had never been an affluent area – but it was better than he remembered. And weirdly, it almost felt as if he was coming home.

He vaguely remembered where he was going, and Freed seemed to be going in the same direction as him. They walked the cobbled streets side by side, walking past cafés and eateries, watching painters beside the river. It felt like a postcard version of France.

"Where does he live?" Freed asked.

"Erm, the building's called Rosemary Court," Laxus frowned a little as he tried to remember his grandfather's address. "It's in Square de la Couronne."

"I know it well, actually. I have an apartment in Boulevard Gambetta. It's about half an hour's walk away from your grandfather's house," Freed commented. "We could meet up sometime, if you'd like."

"Sound's nice," Laxus looked to him, smiling a little. "In… the same way we did last night, right?"

"I'd like that," Freed smiled, and a warm feeling flooded through Laxus. "You know, I do actually have a spare bedroom, if you ever need a night away from your grandfather, or wish to sleep in an actual bed, I'm more than willing to accommodate you for the night."

"I might take you up on that," Laxus said with a smile.

When he thought about that, a sudden rush of confidence flooded through him. At the start of the week, he and Freed hadn't known one another and Laxus hadnt considered the possibility he might be attracted to a man. And now, he was in some kind of relationship with him. And that was a fact that Laxus loved. Because he really cared for Freed, despite how they had only known each other for a short time.

While they were on the train, Freed had always been making accommodations for him. He helped him stay safe in the cabin and walked him through the realisation he wasn't as straight as he first thought. But now Laxus knew what he needed to: he was attracted to Freed and enjoyed his company. And now he wasn't trapped with him, their relationship had changed slightly.

And now it was Laxus' time to pull his own weight.

"But, you know, if I were to come to yours then I wouldn't wanna put you to any trouble," Laxus shrugged. "I imagine making up a whole other bed would be a lot of effort."

Freed raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by the sudden confidence from the blonde.

"It would be quite troubling to do that," Freed agreed with a small smirk. "Perhaps we could find a way where only one bed would be used."

"Maybe we could," Laxus said with a small smirk. That was the first time he had flirted with a man, and he enjoyed it. He also enjoyed the fact Freed had flirted back; he was almost like a verbal sparring partner. That was good. "But, it could take some time. We should dedicate some time to, y'know, thrash everything out."

"I was counting on it," Freed smirked, having picked on the double entendre. "A full night at least, no doubt."

"Maybe a couple days," Laxus shrugged, grinning.

They looked towards each other, both with grins on their faces. They continued to walk side by side further into Paris, and Laxus felt a chill run down his spine when their knuckles grazed one another. He couldn't believe that this was how his life was progressing.

He couldn't believe how much he liked it. Because, even though he knew his life would be harder from now on, he didn't care. Because he felt whole in a way he hadnt before. Maybe it was being back in Paris where he felt he belonged, maybe it was because he had come to terms with something he had never considered before, and maybe it was because he had a romantic partner that thrilled him like nobody else had.

But one thing was certain. Despite everything that had happened, this had been a good week. Perhaps the best week he'd had in years, and Laxus was cautiously optimistic as to what the rest of his life held.

The rest of his life in Paris. With Freed as both his friend and perhaps his lover.

#fraxus #freed justine #Laxus Dreyar #freed x laxus #writing #fanfic #fairy tail

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