#like... they're not being paid to make that. most people make fanfiction as a hobby and out of love for a series

[crystalleoi]

twitter is a nightmare. an account with over 2k followers trashing on some random fanfic is literally a nightmare scenario

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Mature [References Bullying and Homophobia]

Prompt: AU Rivalry Teamup

Summary: Sent away to a delinquents academy, Freed knew life wouldn't be easy. That was proven to be the case when he met Laxus, a cocky, aggressive arse who used his fists over his words. At least, that's what he thought when they first met, but things can change over the span of a year.

Notes: This is the sixth submission for Fraxus Week, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. This one has a brief descrition of bullying and period typical homophobia.

Links: Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

The London School for Delinquent Boys

Year 1890

Location: London, England

"We've a new boy in class today," The teacher – Mister Porland, that's what he'd called himself – said as Freed stood before the blackboard. "Freed Justine. I expect you all to behave and not cause any trouble with him."

Freed would have picked another way to be introduced if he'd been granted the choice. He would have much rather not had an introduction at all, and instead he'd slip into the back of the classroom, wave off all the questions that would be aimed at him, and try and get through the first day without any complaints. Instead, he'd been forcibly marched to the front of a class of about thirty sixteen-to-seventeen-year-old boys – all of whom had been taken from regular education and placed in a disciplinary academy – and been served up almost on a silver platter.

He had to wonder if this was a punishment in and of itself. A hazing from the teachers.

It wasn't that he was intimidated by them, of course. He'd earned his place in the school just like them, and he could more than handle himself, but he didn't care for the fuss. This was as close to jail someone of his age and social stature could undergo and, due to an enthusiast habit of reading and a slight flare for the dramatic, he'd decided prison rules might best serve him. Rule number one was to keep your head down.

A few jeers, exclamations and a patronising whistle filled the room, quickly quietened by the teacher. Freed made an effort not to pay attention to it. Animals, all of them. At least he could be safe in the knowledge that he held moral superiority over them, not that he'd state it out loud. Idiots tended not to like being told that.

Keeping his head down would be harder than he thought.

After he was allowed to take his seat, he was forced to walk through the lot of them to the back of the classroom. The jeering continued, albeit quietly, and someone tried to trip him as he walked. He ignored them, and nearly got to his seat when a particular classmate caught his eye. He wore an arrogant sneer, had a scar running down his face, and had shoulders larger and broader than a student their age ought to have.

Freed would have thought the boy attractive were it not for the look of challenge in his eyes, one Freed knew all too well. This boy was testing him, wanting to see if he would be a victim in the school or someone to be respected. To show him, Freed halted his step, made eye contact with the boy for a few moments, and then continued walking to take his seat.

A little 'hm' was the blonde's only response, but Freed paid it no mind.

Two weeks passed before the blonde actual did anything. The two weeks consisted of Freed getting used to his new surroundings, idiots trying and failing to one-up him in the hopes of looking tough in front of their idiot friends, and the blonde's presence being constant but in the distance. That changed when the blonde approached him in the dinner hall.

"Hey," The blonde grunted in greeting, storming towards Freed. His body was tense, coiled up and ready for a fight. "You think you're better than me or something?"

Freed didn't know why the blonde thought that, exactly, but his response was instant. "Better than you, yes."

He felt that was a fair way to think. The blonde had proven himself to be nothing of note intellectually, he barely spoke in lessons and when he did it was usually to make an unwarranted joke or to get an answer wrong, and he seemed quick to anger. More than once, he'd lurched at another student, looking ready for a fight he'd probably win. The fights never happened exactly, but they seemed like a constant risk. So yes, Freed did think he was better than him.

"This whole thing might 'a worked out in yer old school," The blonde growled, taking another step forward. Freed didn't flinch. "But actin' like yer hot shit and that yer smarter than everyone here ain't working. You're here like the rest of us, and you ain't better just because your pa's got money."

"I don't think I'm better than everyone here," Freed retorted, also taking a step forward. "But I am better than an idiot who can't shut up and takes his hobby by rolling around in the mud, somewhat like a little pig. My betterment was never in question."

The insult wasn't his best. The reference to the blonde's position in the rugby team tenuous at best, and Freed's supposed superiority complex might have shone through – but it annoyed the blonde, so it served its purpose.

He would have rather not been shoved in the chest, though.

Stumbling back slightly, Freed made a choice. He had been told in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to get into another fight, it was partially the reason he was there in the first place, but the blonde deserved a punching. He seemed to be something of an unofficial head-boy, and the fear of him was obvious to anyone who would look, and as such Freed felt a punch to the face was long overdue. He was a student like anyone else, and while others might want to lie down and take it, Freed didn't.

That was why he punched him. It hurt more than he thought it would.

Their fight was hardly that. It lasted less than a minute, and anger overpowered its elegance. Freed perhaps got another two punches in, and received one in return. Teachers were storming over the moment it started, and were dragging them away before it could get out of hand, but Freed felt good to hit the bastard.

"Laxus Dreyar, Freed Justine," Their head teacher yelled, voice filled with a rage that Freed felt was slightly exaggerated given the situation. "My office, now."

As Freed was dragged – literally dragged, which again was an overreaction – into the office, he was sure of three things. He'd already completely failed in his goal of not bringing any attention on himself; his father was going to find out and want him thrashed for getting into a fight again; and Laxus Dreyar had perhaps the most interesting name he'd ever heard.

---

"You heard what he did?"

"Nearly killed him."

"Apparently they're gonna kick him out."

"Nah, he's the team captain."

Freed didn't pay attention to the conversations happening around him as he ate. After three months of being in the academy, he'd learned it was best not to. Most of the people had nothing of interest to say, and the people who were interesting were the ones likely to try and start a fight with you if they knew you were listening. He'd learned that when a younger boy, Natsu, tried to punch him and Freed had ended up dumping a bowl of cereal over the man's head and temporarily strangling him with his tie. The detentions and lack of breakfasts for a week had been worth it.

In truth, he'd forged a comfortable place for himself in the school. He was known as the boy who gave Dreyar a black eye, and that title came with its perks. Mainly that most people would leave him alone. He and Dreyar had… something. He couldn't tell if it was a truce, or simply a stalemate. But either way, Freed would enjoy the calm and only reignite the fight should Laxus need another punching.

Other than that, Freed was forgettable in the school. People ignored him, he ignored them, and everyone went on as if he hadn't arrived. The school was fine – teachers were far too happy to punish, but that was to be expected – and their lessons were as good as his old schools had been. Had his parents been scammed, the tuition fee had been high?

His parents were an issue. They hadn't visited, but they were in constant communication with the head teacher, and apparently their 'donations' meant Freed was put under a spotlight by the staff. Maybe that was why they were so quick to punish: they were being paid to do so. Annoying, but it could be worse.

The food, however, was abysmal.

Mashed potatoes and sausages would be a good meal, but the potato was half cooked, and the sausages were tiny. He'd eaten as much as he could stomach within a minute, so he absently played with the food with a slight huff. The rain, as tended to happen in England, was heavily pouring and Freed knew the moment a teacher saw he'd stopped eating he would be forced into the yard for recreational activities. The eating hall was at least partially warm, and he had to admit that the conversation behind him was of interest.

"What's that got to do with anything?" One boy shrugged.

"They don't wanna piss off the rugby team, they all worship him," The other explained. "If they kick him out, everyone gets angry about it, and they fight back. They'll never do it."

"You didn't see the kid," The first dismissed. "Half dead. They've gotta do something."

"Doesn't seem like Laxus to just beat a kid up for no reason," The second argued, and Freed did have to agree. Laxus was an argumentative and aggressive man, but he did tend to stick to people his own age. Mainly those who knew how to fight back, as well. "The kid must have pissed him off."

"Romeo, nah," The first laughed, and Freed frowned. "Kid's nothing. Wouldn't bother Laxus."

Romeo. Romeo Conbolt. It took Freed a moment to put a face to the name, and when he did his fork stalled and his body tensed. He had heard the rumours of a kid being beaten half to death, of course he had, but he hadn't heard who it was. He wouldn't have cared, were it not for the fact he had seen days prior the beating Romeo had endured. Laxus hadn't been the one to beat the kid, it had been a group of six of his classmates.

Freed had stopped it, of course. They were all thirteen, he was seventeen and the boy who got into a fight with the school's toughest figure, so they scarpered when he yelled at them to stop. He told the kid to go to the nurse, and saw the issue as finished with.

Had the kid used Laxus as a scapegoat? Or had it been the group of brats?

Either way, Freed was a man of principles. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing the back of Laxus and his insistence of approaching problems with his fists, it wasn't fair to have him blamed for something he hadn't done. Especially when a grown man beating a kid was something that could get him taken from the school and placed into an actual jail. That wasn't fair. He stood, and quickly started to walk towards the head teacher's office.

"Enter," The headmaster, Mister Fernandes, said once Freed had knocked on the door. Freed entered, and waited in silence. "Mister Justine. It's rare you're here voluntarily."

"I suppose so, sir," Freed agreed, ignoring the insult. "Sir, I have a complaint to make."

"Of course you do," Mister Fernandes sighed, removing a pair of spectacles, and leaning forward in his chair. "You do know that this is a disciplinary institution, and I don't act on the word of my students. If you have issues with your treatment then it's not my concern."

"I understand that sir," Freed assured him. "But my complaint is more about the treatment of another student: Laxus Dreyar."

"You needn't worry about that," Mister Fernandes dismissed the complaint, despite the fact Freed had yet to make it yet. "I know that you and he have something of a… personal vendetta against one another, and I'm sure that the rumours about what he has done have reached you. I will be following a strict set of procedures which will likely end up with him incarcerated for what he did to a younger boy. He'll be out of your hair soon, so don't concern yourself about it."

"That is not my complaint."

"If this is something to do with your silly feud then I'm really not interested by it," Mister Fernandes sighed. "As I said, he'll most likely be out of here within the month. If you can't be civil for that long then that's a bad reflection on your own character. And boys your age really should be fighting their own battles."

Freed bit back a retort, wanting to point out that the time he did try to fight his own battle he was dragged away and reprimanded. Instead, he calmed himself and spoke again with the level of respect a teacher believed they deserved.

"Laxus wasn't the person who attacked Romeo, sir," He said, and the headteacher paused. "It was a group of his classmates. Six of them, I believe."

"And you know this how?" Mister Fernandes asked.

"I walked in on them doing it, sir," Freed admitted, not flinching when the teacher looked at him with sharpened poise. "They stopped when I approached, Romeo went to the nurse's office and I expected him to tell you who actually was responsible, rather than placing the blame on Laxus. Had I known earlier what he'd done, I would have spoken to you sooner."

Mister Fernandes took a moment, thinking before sighing. "He did, actually. He gave me a list of names, before returning a day later stating that it was actually Laxus to blame, and that he'd lied initially as he was worried about the consequences."

"And you believed him?" Freed asked before he could stop himself.

"Are you questioning me, Justine?"

"No, sir."

He was.

"You're dismissed, Justine. Thank you for speaking with me," Mister Fernandes waved a hand in his direction, and Freed nodded curtly and went to walk away. "It was big of you to do this, Justine. Well done."

"It's what's expected of me, sir," Freed dismissed.

"Good man," Mister Fernandes nodded, before waving Freed off again.

Freed left, closing the door behind him. He immediately turned to the right and started walking towards the courtyard, which was still being battered by the heavy rain. As he walked, he was completely unaware that Laxus was leaning on the wall outside of the office, looking at Freed with an expression of mingled bewilderment, disbelief, and belligerent respect.

---

The idiom that the enemy of one's enemy was one's friend was a complicated one. It was limited, didn't work for all situations, and seemed to fall apart under any scrutiny. Freed had long since decided that it didn't make much sense when thought about, and yet he found himself subscribing to the idea when it fitted him.

That was the reason he found himself walking into the rugby team's changing room.

Laxus seemed to notice him approaching the moment Freed walked into the room, and stopped mid-way through changing into his kit to stare Freed down. Freed wasn't put off by the intense and lingering gaze of the man, walking towards him without hesitation. The room seemed to quieten around him, and Freed couldn't be sure if it was because of his presence in the room or because Laxus apparently changed in the back corner away from most of his team. That worked well for what Freed wanted, at least.

"The hell are you doin' here?" Laxus said, voice growly and angry sounding. He always sounded like that with Freed, but it seemed more intense today. Perhaps this how he acted before a match.

"I have a favour to ask of you," Freed stated.

"No," Laxus rebutted immediately.

"You might enjoy doing it."

"Wouldn't be a favour, it'd be an opportunity," Laxus smirked, seemingly proud of himself. Freed had to give him credit, it was somewhat clever. "So, what's the great and powerful Freed Justine need from a man like me? Lessons on how to be an idiot; that's what you keep calling me. Or is it a few tips on rolling around in the mud? Y'know, because that's all rugby is, right."

"The captain of the team you're playing," Freed began, rather than rising to the bait. "Hurt him for me."

"What?" Laxus asked, a laugh tainting the word.

"Hurt him," Freed repeated. "Kick him, punch him, give him a concussion if you're able to. Or perhaps accidentally kick him in the balls, that'd be rather nice to watch. Just do whatever you can to make him cry."

"Why?" Laxus grinned, clearly enjoying this.

"You're playing my old school's team, and he's the reason I got sent here in the first place," Freed admitted, ignoring the quirked eyebrow he got. "He deserves more pain than he gets, I suspect. I want you to remedy that."

"And why should I?" Laxus said, voice a little taunting as he continued to change into his rugby kit. Freed forced himself to ignore the strong body that was revealed to him when Laxus removed his shirt. "We ain't exactly friends, are we? Maybe I'd have more in common with him than I do with you."

"Do you need an excuse to hurt someone?" Freed asked, and Laxus held his gaze. Freed eventually relented. "I can tell you the team's weaknesses. The coach wont change tactics and so they can be exploited."

Laxus thought for a moment. "Nah, you don't need to. I'll do it."

"You will?" Freed asked. He… honestly hadn't expected that.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "So long as you watch. If I'm gonna put on a show, I wanna know I'm gonna have an audience."

Laxus pulled on his shirt, much to Freed's quiet disappointment, and sat on the bench before his locker. He leant against it and looked at Freed expectantly, who was looking back with confusion and disbelief. His arrival in the changing room was stupid at best – he'd seen the man who had gotten him there in the first place and old resentment bubbled up faster than Freed would have liked – and as such he had thought Laxus would dismiss him. It's what Freed would have done were the situation flipped.

"Why?" Freed asked.

"This place is shit, anyone would wanna punch the guy who put 'em here. I don't get to do it, but it'll be fun to do it to some other guy," Laxus shrugged, standing up and cracking his back when the coach called for the team to leave for their warmups. He stepped past Freed, but halted once they were all alone. "Be there, pretty-boy."

"What?" Freed stammered slightly. Had Laxus just…

"You think I don't know the reason you're here?" Laxus chuckled a little, but it lacked the edge it normally did. He lowered his eyes slightly and spoke softer than Freed was used to. "You two get caught? Or did he catch you with some other guy and squealed on ya?"

Freed shouldn't answer. He and Laxus weren't friends and admitting anything to him was stupid, but he found himself whispering, "The latter."

"Fucker," Laxus growled, equally quietly. Freed didn't know what to think of it. "Yer right, he needs a kick in the balls. I'll handle it."

"Thank you," Freed whispered.

"Don't worry about it," Laxus dismissed. "Besides, I guess I kinda owe you for stopping me from getting expelled, don't I?" Freed frowned a little. That had been half a year ago, and he didn't know that Laxus even knew of it. Laxus didn't seem to notice Freed's change in body language and continued talking with a smirk. "And, you never know, having a pretty little rich boy watching me might make me play better."

That was all Laxus said before slowly dragging a knuckle over Freed's cheek in a gesture so light but so intimate that Freed felt a shiver run over him completely. Laxus grinned at him, pushed his knuckle against Freed's lips for a split second, before leaving Freed alone in the locker room, heart racing and eyes wide.

---

"How did you know?"

"How'd I know what?"

"The real reason I'm here."

Both Freed and Laxus were sitting on the school house's roof. Laxus had been taking a drag of his cigarette when Freed had approached him and sat bedside him, and the blonde absently offered Freed one. He didn't take it, and for a few moments they had been sitting in silence before Freed had broken it.

It was the last day of the school year. Freed would be dragged back to his home, where his parents would no doubt have a list of grievances about his behaviour throughout the year. His father would make threats about how if his behaviour didn't improve immediately, he would be punished off the back of the man's belt. Nothing would come of it, of course – the elder Mister Justine stopped punishing Freed that way the moment Freed was of an age where he could fight back – but the yelling would be near consistent. It always was when Freed met with his parents now.

He wasn't going to complain. There was no point. Instead, he was going to tie off the loose ends of his school life, particularly with Laxus. Because, when it came to the beautifully, and now somewhat flirtatious man, Freed really didn't know where he stood.

"It's obvious, when you've been here for long enough," Laxus explained, puffing out a stream of smoke. "Yer not obvious, I don't mean that, but when you've been here for years you look out for the signs."

"And what were the signs?"

"You never spoke about why you're here other than saying you got into a fight. I'm guessing it was with the guy who told on ya," Laxus shrugged a little, shifting slightly so that his side was pressed against Freed. "Everyone here wears their story like a badge of honour. Getting into fights, beating kids up, stealing from places. They're all good stories and get's you a lot of credit in a place like this. The worse you were, the more respect you get," Laxus chuckled. "There's only one thing that gets you in here that you don't talk about. Yer queer, and you get found out."

"You don't talk about why you're here," Freed pointed out, and Laxus turned to look at him with a lazy smirk.

"My dad saw me with the neighbour kid," He laughed. "He wasn't even good looking, felt sorry for him really and wanted to know what it's like to kiss a guy. But dad walked in, threw a fit, and I've been here since I was thirteen."

"That's awful of him."

"Maybe, but this place ain't so bad once you get used to it," Laxus shrugged again, leaning back against the wall he was resting on. "Kinda funny, really. I'd say about a quarter of the guys are here for the same reason we are. If you know what to look out for, you can have a pretty good time."

"You could have told me," Freed laughed a little. "I've been rather bored."

"If I told ya, I wouldn't have you all to myself," Laxus grinned, and blew a puff of smoke directly into Freed's face. Freed simply quirked an eyebrow. "I've been spending the last couple of weeks showin' off to ya on the field and I think it was working pretty well. Hardly fair on me if I got you all excited only for ya to use it on some other guy."

"You're a manipulative man when you want to be, Laxus," Freed smirked, leaning just a little closer to Laxus. "But you haven't done anything yet, have you?"

"Maybe I want ya to be desperate for me," Laxus whispered, voice low and rumbling. "Maybe I'm waiting for you to make the move on me."

"If that's true, then maybe you've waited long enough."

They were close now, and Freed wanted to be closer. Laxus' hand was resting against his thigh, and Freed leant further in. He could smell the smoke on Laxus breath, see the slight dilation of the man's eyes as he grinned, and slowly brought their lips together in a slow, tentative kiss.

His first kiss. A beautifully electric, smoky kiss that set Freed's very soul on fire.

He tangled his hand into Laxus' short hair, tugging at it slightly and relishing the slight groan that he was given in return. Laxus pushed into him further, and Freed practically melted.

Eventually, when a harsh gust of wind flew over them and shook them from the spell of their kiss, they pulled apart. They were quiet for a moment, the gravity of what happened only just hitting Freed. He had just kissed the brutish, angry, brilliant man he had once expected to hate, and had felt more alive than ever before.

"You better be here next year."

"Nothing could stop me."

"That's right, pretty-boy."

They shared a smirk, and leant forward to reignite another perfect kiss.

[beenovel]

Listen here you fuckers

That's my mom. She has a job, which is not writing fanfiction for ungrateful, spoiled little slimeballs like you. She also has a husband and children and chickens and a house, all of which take time and energy. Writing also takes time and energy, but since she's not being paid for it and it's a hobby that is supposed to be fun she doesn't prioritize it, which means it gets delegated to the backburner. So you don't get new high-quality fics every day. boo-fucking-hoo. go dry your little tantrum tears you piss-poor excuses for human beings.

Something that is often forgotten in our digital world is that quality takes time. It is not instantaneous, it takes work. If you're getting something new every single day, the author is likely making the decision to forgo quality, or plot, or proper characterization, or any number of other seemingly minor parts of writing that take real time and energy to implement. Or maybe they're giving up sleep, working until dawn writing. In this day and age, most people are after instant gratification, just more more more, now now now, with no real thought about what actually goes into the content they're being given. Patience is a virtue. Most people are taught that particular life lesson from an extremely young age, so clearly your parents failed you. Maybe try going back to preschool and starting again, because I feel the only way to save you now is a complete reboot you absolute waste of resources.

so in conclusion, go fuck yourself with poison ivy you genetic failure

Guys this isn't fun anymore... Pls stop