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eryiss · 2 years ago

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Summary: Laxus had quickly written off his college roommate. He didn’t party, didn’t go out, and didn’t do anything but study. All it would take was an unfair professor, a lot of door slamming, and the perfect prank to show Laxus how wrong he could be about a man who slept only six feet away.

Notes: Hey all. Welcome to Fraxus week. Head over to @fuckyeahfraxus to see all the posts. There’s no real theme between my fics this year, but there’s a tone of rebellion. Hope you enjoy.

Links: Ao3, Event Masterlist

Six Feet Away

December - 1987

Laxus' tapping of his pen was interrupted when the door was yanked open and slammed shut. He raised an eyebrow, kicked his chair back away from his desk and swivelled around to see the source of the noise. There was only one person it could have been, but the idea of him slamming any door was so ridiculous that…

No. It was him. Freed Justine – preppy, up tight, rule following Freed Justine – had just slammed a door.

He and Laxus looked at each other for a moment. Despite sharing a dorm room for just over three months, they hadn't exactly become friends. Or had a conversation longer than one minute, honestly. They were different people; Laxus was on an athletic scholarship and was working his way onto being the next star quarterback, while attending every party that he could. Freed, on the other hand, was a math student, or something like that; Laxus was pretty sure about that. He'd never asked what Freed was studying, but a guy like that wasn't going to be taking any of the good classes, was he? It was either math or science.

Either way, they weren't close. But there were a few things he knew about Freed he'd gathered through osmosis, and one of them was that he didn't ruffle feathers. At all. For Laxus, it had been a pretty good quality; an unobtrusive roommate was ideal. So to have him slam the door loud enough for the entire building to hear, was not expected.

"You okay-"

"Five professors," Freed snapped, voice holding more emotion than it ever had before. "Five individual professors looked at it and gave it the same grade. There was no conferring, no knowledge of what I was doing, and they all agreed."

Watching as Freed paced around their small room, Laxus spoke with hesitance. "Agreed on what?"

Freed approached Laxus' desk, slammed a small stack of paper on it, then went back to pacing. The papers, Laxus saw after picking them up, were five copies of the same essay. It was an analysis of a Hitchcock film – Freed was a film student? – and at the end of them all lay a good grade and a small summary of thoughts. The grading on each essay was written in different handwriting but seemed to broadly agree on the quality of the work. Laxus looked back to Freed, who was clearly expecting him to join in his outrage.

"I'm gonna need a little context."

"That bastard," Freed spat, gesturing towards the main building of their college. "Every professor in the film department read my work and agreed it was almost perfect. Every one of them concurred. Except for my actual professor, who failed me."

Another, smaller stack of paper was thrown onto his desk. It was the same essay, though obviously handwritten rather than being a product of the xerox machine, and with a very different grade written on the top. Practically every other sentence had feedback scribbled onto it, and none of it was positive. Laxus actually hissed out a breath after reading some of it, and thanked his past self for choosing courses that were entirely fact based rather than up for interpretation. Pre-Med and statistics were boring as hell, but at least he didn't deal with feedback like this.

On the last page, a thought struck him, and he wheeled his chair back so he could get into his desk drawer. It took him a moment to rifle through the files before he found his welcoming packet. Included in it were letters from the board of directors, giving the usual crap about how college is an amazing time, but they need to focus on studying. He pulled out one letter, compared the handwriting, and had his suspicions confirmed.

"You got Jose Porla, huh?"

"Yes," Freed stopped pacing. "Why, is he known for miss marking?"

"Not that exactly, but he plays favourites," Laxus shrugged. "He used to be on the board but got demoted after he was found giving dumbass students scholarships because he liked the families, so they pawned him off on some classes that nobody cared about," He cringed. "No offence. You didn't hear?"

"No. Why wasn't he fired?"

"Gives a lot of money, can't afford to totally piss him off," Laxus shrugged. "He doing it to your whole class, or just you?"

Freed didn't answer the question, but the tenseness of his jaw was enough to jump to an answer. "So, to conclude, my teacher has engaged in a known scandal, but has all but bribed himself into a position of tenure. To add to that, he's decided that I'll be his personal whipping boy for the year, and there's nothing I can do about it?"

Laxus clicked his tongue. "I could give you directions to the gym, so you can burn the energy off?"

Freed actually growled, turned, and stormed out the room. Laxus whistled and went back to looking at his own work.

Two Weeks Later

Laxus had taken a pretty good nap when the door clattered open and nearly slammed into straight his head. He shot upwards on instinct, his covers pooling at the waist as he looked on. Freed, after two unsettling weeks of not mentioning the incident, looked furious again. Even more furious this time if it were possible. A stack of papers was flung at Laxus as he blinked away the sleep, and he looked down and winced at what was scribbled at the top.

'Abject failure.'

"That counts to my final grade of the year," Freed snapped. "He graded it un-markable."

"That's bullshit," Laxus agreed, voice grumbling. "You should do something about it."

"Like what?" Freed huffed and collapsed into his own bed. "I've looked into lodging an official complaint against him, but the consensus of everyone I've spoken with is that it won't change anything, and if he found out about it then he'd only make things worse. There's going to the press, of course, but social pressure can only do so much so quickly, and he can more than destroy by GPA before anyone starts listening."

"Maybe try another kind of pushback."

"Like what?" Freed demanded.

Laxus thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing you'd wanna do."

"Tell me."

"You ain't gonna do it, you ain't the type," Laxus ran a hand through his hair, his tired mind missing the quick glance Freed gave his flexed bicep. "But, maybe go below the belt. He's only doing this shit because he thinks he can get away with it. Just because you can't get him fired doesn't mean you can't get him off your back. If I was on the field and some guy kept giving me trouble for no reason, and was fucking up my game, then I'd punch the bastard. I'd get a penalty, but he'd know not to keep pushing me because it wouldn't end well for him," Laxus shrugged and looked over to Freed. He was met with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Field?"

"I'm a footballer," Laxus said slowly, because surely Freed knew. "I'm the quarterback. The guy who-"

"I know football terms, I quite enjoy it actually," Freed countered, and the idea of Freed being a football fan didn't fit with Laxus' image of him at all. The thought of him screaming as part of the crowd seemed impossible. But Freed could show passion when pissed off; maybe when supporting a team, that side of him might come out too. "I just didn't know you were on the team. I assumed it would be more," his eyes glanced around the room. "Obvious."

"You thought I'd have jerseys and flags on every surface?" Laxus grinned.

"That, or the cheerleaders."

"Cheerleaders ain't my thing," Laxus said before thinking. He quickly amended himself. "Not the ones we've got, anyway."

Technically it was true, too. Some colleges had started to allow guys to join the cheer teams, and they always were hot. Freed clearly didn't notice Laxus' shot of panic and his amendment, and instead turned the topic back to Laxus. "I haven't had the time to go to any games."

"Really? You don't do anything."

It was a rude thing to say, and Laxus could see Freed's eyes snap onto him before he could take it back. "There's a reason I prioritise my studies, just as there's a reason why I can't enter into a pissing contest with my professor."

It was probably meant to be mysterious enough to not encourage any further questions. Laxus didn't work like that. "And that reason is?"

As expected, Freed hadn't anticipated any further questions, and perhaps that shock led him to answer. "There are… terms to my enrolment here." Again, Freed seemed to think that this was enough. Laxus kept looking at him until he continued. "My high school had a senior pranking tradition. It was meant to be harmless, but there was one student – Jackal – was cruel beyond excuse. I decided to get some payback on behalf of his victims. Some people thought I took things too hard, and as such my place here is only allowed if I keep my head low and my grades up."

"What did you do to him?" Laxus asked, curious.

"There's a basic chemistry experiment called Elephant's Toothpaste. It creates an expanse foam, you've probably heard of it? I sent a note to him to go to a certain storeroom which wasn't used, and set up a trap so sort," Laxus saw a grin splinter onto Freed's face. "The moment he walked in, a cord was pulled and a version of the Elephant's Toothpaste – a much larger version – exploded. It was harmless, and only made a mess of him, but he didn't take kindly to it. He also didn't like the stink bomb that I threw in after him."

Laxus snorted. That would have sucked, but it wasn't all that bad as pranks went. It also sounded slightly familiar. "Not as bad as it could have been?"

"Well, I think the aftermath is what really set things off," Freed laughed. Had Laxus ever heard him laugh before? "As I said, he was angry. People were laughing at him, which made it worse. He got to the parking lot and must have snapped, because he picked up a stone and started to smash his own car up with it. He looked deranged, actually. He then moved onto the next car, which happened to be the principals."

"Shit."

"Yes, but that's still not the worst of it," Freed smiled. "You see, he really was awful. Everyone hated him, and so I thought it fair that the entire school enjoy his embarrassment. I'm a film student, I have a video camera, so I thought I would record it and make a few copies to hand around school. What I didn't-"

"Holy shit that was you!" Laxus leapt up, grinning and gawping at Freed simultaneously. "That video was on the national news. People said our generation were influenced by satan because of it. It was you!"

"You can see how people think it got out of hand," Freed said, burying his face into his hand.

"Dude, that was badass. You got a load of old fucks pissing their pants on the news. And apparently the guy deserved to look like a dick too." He clasped Freed on the shoulder with a wide grin. "I mean, you've kinda shot yourself in the foot, but if people found out that was you, you'd be a campus legend. Pretty much anyone would defend you."

"Anyone other than the people who could expel me, I suspect," Freed sighed his words, then stood up. "You don't mind if I use the shower, do you? I think I need some time to think?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Freed walked into their shared bathroom, and Laxus watched him go. After a moment, when he heard the water hitting the shower floor, he closed his eyes and thought back to the video that had been on every news station for about a week. The student – Jackal – had looked like a total jackass. The prank was pure brilliance, Laxus had thought that even before he knew about the stink bomb. It was hard to reconcile with the realisation that Freed had been the person behind it.

Just weeks ago, Laxus had written Freed off the personification of a boring middle manager. But, there was something about Freed's eyes when he was talking about the prank. A sort of manic delight at the memory. That was why Laxus believed him; you couldn't fake something like that. He wondered what Freed was like in high school, before the threat of expulsion. Was he a punk? Laxus could kind of imagine it.

He'd look hot in a leather jacket, a stray thought suggested.

That didn't matter, for two reasons. One: Freed wasn't going to show any of his possible punk side so long as he was under Jose's thumb. Two: Laxus wasn't going to risk his position in school by going after a guy. He was an athlete, would be joining a frat next year, and needed college to work for him. Frat boys and athletes don't date men, no matter how manic their eyes looked.

Three Days Later

"I've got an idea," Laxus said as he walked into their dorm room. A large whiteboard and stand clattered behind him as he dragged it into the room and set it up in the small amount of space that was left unused. Freed looked up from his desk, face crunching.

"How quaint, an athlete using his mind," He deadpanned, obviously joking.

"Keep making those jokes and I'm gonna start playing the part of a dumbass jock bully, and then you'll regret it," Laxus grinned and looked over his shoulder. "Unless, o' course, you wanna be hanging from the flagpole by your underwear."

"I've always wondered about the mechanics of that. Surely, they'd tear, and what would you actually hook them onto? Not the rope, surely," Freed mused, and Laxus breathed out a laugh. He and Freed had been talking to each other and the more Laxus listened to him, the more he liked him. Talking with Freed was always surreal. He was a weird guy, but not bad. "Anyway, hardly the point. What do you mean you've had an idea?"

"On how you can get payback on Jose without getting in trouble," Laxus grinned, turning and writing 'Prank Ideas' on the top of the whiteboard.

"How?"

"I'll do it for you."

Freed looked at him as if he were stupid. "Then you'd get in trouble."

"Nah, I'm on a winning streak and, not to brag, but I'm bringing in a lot of fucking money for this school," Laxus ignored Freed's quiet 'Do you know what bragging is?' and turned to face him. "I could take a piss on the chancellor's desk while he sitting at it and he'd thank me. So, I'm pretty much as invulnerable as Jose is right now."

After a second of consideration, Freed shook his head. "I'd be blamed either way."

"No. Because I'm going to 'steal' your camera and record whatever we do to him, and I'm gonna make sure you can hear my voice taunting him so I'm obviously the guy behind it. He'll probably figure it out that it's you, but who would believe him. He'd have to tell everyone why he thinks it's you, and that means he'll have to confess to giving you bullshit marks. If he does that, he's really gonna lose his job." He could see Freed considering, and tried to give him the extra push. "Come on. The fucker deserves it; and I really wanna see what you can do when you're pissed off."

"You act like I'm some sort of… prank aficionado."

"And maybe you are," Laxus smirked, tapping the board with his marker. "We'll only know if you do it."

One Week Later

They both sat in wait outside the side door of the film and music department. They knew that Jose had a class ending in the next few minutes, and that he was the only person who would be using this door. The trap had been laid, the camera was waiting on Freed's tripod, and all they had to do was wait for it.

Although the plan being that Laxus would take the whole blame, Freed had insisted on being there to see the results of his work. Despite claiming he wasn't a regular prankster; Freed had come alive during their plotting sessions. That manic delight in his eyes was burning brightly, and Laxus had more than once found himself lost in them. He'd blamed that on the beer - they'd gotten pizza and beer to help the creative process – and had quickly pushed it to the back of his mind. Also in the back of his mind was the realisation of how nice Freed's laugh could be.

But now, huddled in the darkness right next to Freed, it was hard to ignore any part of him. He'd really come alive over the last few weeks, and Laxus couldn't ignore it. Freed was… mesmerising.

"That's his class," Freed whispered, nodding to a huddle of students walking out from the front of the building. "You ready?"

"Definitely," Laxus grinned conspiratorially as he flicked on the camera.

Their plotting had been successful, and they'd come up with too many good ideas to simply use one of them. After a while, they'd concocted a way of using all the highlights together, giving Jose the treatment he deserved. Any doubt about whether they were doing the right thing flew out the window when Laxus had spoken with a few of his teammates and heard their own stories of what he was like. Apparently, he made problems with any student he deemed an easy target.

The door opened, and Laxus acted instantly. He pushed down on the air horn, the sound splitting the silence. Jose jerked in fear, stumbling forward a few steps just as planned.

With a quick tug on a string, a well positioned bucket that had been on the awning above the door clattered forward. Laxus grinned as it fell directly onto Jose's head, covering it completely. He caught Freed smirking as Jose pulled the bucket off, revealing the neon pink gloop that was now covering his hair and face. Jose was spluttering and obviously furious. Laxus felt the rush already.

After a few moments of Jose flailing, Laxus raised the leaf blower and aimed. Between him and Jose were a large pile of arts and craft feathers, which flew through the air on the wind of the leaf blower. Jose raised his hands and tried in vain to stop the barrage of feathers. It didn't work; and they clung to the pink goo that covered him. Pink goo that he now realised was glue.

"Hey Professor," Laxus yelled cheerfully. "Love the new look. Suits you. Always thought you looked kinda like a chicken!"

"You!" Jose snapped, looking up through the mess. He spotted Laxus, then Freed. "You! I am going to-"

He took a step forward and cut himself off. A Slip and Slide had been set up and covered with water, which was just starting to freeze in the cold air. The Fairy Tail campus was built on a slight hill, and it sent Jose tumbling down the slide without dignity nor a chance to save himself. Freed quickly pulled the camera off the tripod to follow the journey, smirking amazingly as he did. Jose's short slide ended with him landing in a small kid's pool, filled with pond water and ice cubes. He gasped and squawked, and Laxus chuckled. Jose really was a chicken at heart.

Swaggering towards him, they both loomed over the professor. Jose looked at them with hatred, eyes aflame.

"You okay, Prof?" Laxus taunted. "These hills are dangerous for a man of your age."

"You are-"

"Ready men?" Laxus yelled before Jose could say anything that would incriminate Freed. "Aim! Fire!"

From numerous hiding places, every member of Laxus' team shot out, each holding snowballs. They began to pelt their professor with them at a rate nobody could block. They were coming from all angles, melding with the glue and feathers while obviously freezing him to the bone. It could have only lasted a minute, but it seemed to go on forever, and once again Laxus found himself entranced by Freed's expression, even if it was half hidden by his camera.

As the deluge of snowballs ended, Laxus walked forward again, making sure that he was in front of the camera. He leered down at Jose with exaggerated arrogance and delighted at the rage on the man's face. After all he had done, this was what he had coming to him.

"You think maybe this is your own fault?" Laxus taunted. "Maybe you deserve this? Maybe you shouldn't fuck with my team and my friends? That make sense?"

"I am not going to forget this!" Jose growled; the effect dampened by the fact he was a grown man in a kid's pool looking like an idiot.

"Of course you won't. Not when I had this commissioned," He gestured to the nearby building.

Spray painted by one of the art students, who also had a problem with Jose, was a brand-new mural of the man. It was a caricature of Jose covered in pink glue and feathers, sitting pitifully in a pool of dirty water, with a torrent of snowballs flying towards him. He was crying, looking entirely ridiculous, and Freed was making sure the entire piece was caught on camera before panning back to Jose, who spluttered indignantly.

"Happy Christmas Jose," Laxus grinned. "And again, this really is your-"

"What the hell is going on here!" A booming voice cut Laxus off, and flashlights danced over them. Campus security. Fuck.

"Get outta here," He demanded to Freed. "If you get caught you're gonna be kicked out."

"So will you," Freed hissed, the flashlights getting closer.

"I was always gonna be found out, that was the plan."

"There's a difference between confessing after a few weeks have passed and being caught in the act. Jose won't just let this go," Freed snapped, then took Laxus' hand in his own. "Come on."

Laxus didn't have a choice, as Freed pulled him forward with a surprisingly strong grip. Running through a part of the campus he barely knew, Laxus kept his head down so his face couldn't be seen by the security that were chasing them. They took corner after corner, getting further away from the guards each time, and eventually hid in a small alley, where they settled. Freed moved two large trash barrels so that the alley appeared blocked up. He ducked behind them, and Laxus did the same, listening as footsteps ran past them.

After taking a few moments to be sure they were gone, and to catch his breath, Laxus spoke again. "You already knew about this place?"

"I've been on my best behaviour. That doesn't mean I haven't made plans if I decided to have some fun."

"I knew you had a punk side to ya," Laxus grinned as he nudged Freed's shoulder.

"I would have thought that were obvious. Though I suppose you've only seen me dressed like this. I only brought the clothes to look inoffensive; my actual wardrobe would probably shock you."

"You'll have to show me it sometime," Laxus said before he could stop himself.

"If we both survive this without being expelled, maybe I will," Freed shrugged. He leant back against the grimy old barrel without thinking – even that would have seemed impossible of Freed a month ago – and closed his eyes. His face lit up. "I think I needed this. I've been too focused on not making ripples and getting good grades. I needed something cathartic. And God it was cathartic. His face was just amazing."

Freed continued to speak, but Laxus stopped hearing him. Looking at him in this crappy alleyway, his face illuminated by a flickering light a few feet away, Laxus was breathless. Freed was relishing in their victory with a smile that was almost feral, and there was a light in his eyes that Laxus had never seen on another man before. Freed looked alive. Like the life was shining out of him.

He moved before he could think, taking hold of Freed's cheek to turn him. He leant down, tilted his head, and kissed Freed. His chapped lips against Freed's sent a shot of lightning through him, and he felt as though fire was rushing over him. He shifted to get a better position and his knee nudged a dislodged brick, slamming agains the metal barrel they leant against.

Pulling back, his face was red, and panic overthrew delight. "Shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't-"

Freed took a hold of Laxus' hair, tugged at it, and dragged Laxus into another, heated kiss.

One Month Later

"So," Freed said as Laxus walked back into their dorm room. "How did it go?"

"Not too bad," Laxus shrugged.

He had returned from a meeting with his coach, the school's principal, and campus security. They had spread copies of the tape throughout the campus, and eventually Laxus had been deemed the ringleader. It was decided that he needed to face punishment even despite his success on the team. The meeting had been to decide what would happen.

"I've got to paint over the graffiti on my own every Saturday until there's no trace of it," Laxus shrugged off his jacket. It was leather, spiked on the shoulders. Freed had gotten it him for Christmas. He, in return, had gotten Freed a pair of combat boots and insisted Freed wear them. They looked great on him; Laxus would turn him back into a punk if it killed him. "I've also gotta do a couple talks at a load of schools. It kinda sucks but could be worse. And I have to do a fuck load of interviews to raise the profile of the college, so that's good for you, huh?"

"Why would that be good for me?"

"Because they'll wanna take pictures. And one of them is a men's health magazine," Laxus swaggered forward. He grinned down at him, relishing the smirk on his face. "And I'm pretty sure they're gonna want me shirtless."

"Interesting," Freed stood from his desk and placed both hands on Laxus' waist. "While that's all well and good, and I'll be sure to get that edition, I think I have access to something better than some risqué pictures."

"Really?" Laxus asked in a hoarse voice. "What's that?"

"You. Ready for me, any time I want you," Freed smirked, placed a hand on Laxus' chest and pushed. Laxus fell onto their pushed together beds and watched as Freed climbed on him, grinning down on him. He was never so happy to have misjudged someone.

#Fraxus Week 2023 #Fraxus Week #Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #One Shot #writing event #80s AU

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absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

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The Demon Bros Play DND!

Who’s ready for some Stupid Headcanons?

So, the Satanic Panic of the 1980s claimed that the tabletop RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons had the power to turn your children into satanists and devil worshippers. So of course, the brothers have totally played DND after hearing about all the human world nonsense.

Lucifer the Back-up Back-up DM

He’s too busy to play this game dammit, stop inviting him! What do you mean both Satan and Simeon can’t DM the one-shot? Ugh... fine.

Despite all his UUUUUUUUGGGGHHH, Lucifer is a damn good storyteller, prepare to be immersed as hell.

Also, sorry guys, he’s a rule whore. If something’s against the rules, YOU AREN’T DOING IT.

He’s also a complete sadist who will randomly get everyone to roll perception checks for NO REASON.

Lucifer has definitely stood up and slammed his hands on the table while giving a description for extra effect, Mammon screamed and nearly fell out of his seat which REALLY ruined the mood.

“Everyone, we’re rescheduling, I’m too busy.”

He’s been a player a few times, and he’s NOT good at it. All his characters end up being really generic and boring. He’s better at being the world and everything in it, not the dummy wandering around it.

Human/fighter lookin’ motherfucker

In conclusion, he’s a good DM, but he’s probably too busy to play.

Over-Powered Self Insert (Mammon)

This game is for nerds! He’s not playin’, Levi!

Fine, his character is great and amazin’ and is also him. MC! What do these numbers mean-

Mammon’s the type of player to make his character a self insert and not take it too seriously, then get really REALLY attached as the campaign progresses.

He’s the type not to make a backstory for his character either, so go wild DM MCs!

He also both purposefully and accidentally metagames a whole bunch. Like dude, YOU know this, YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT.

Shit he forgot his dice, can he borrow some?

“Okay MC, that’s five points of piercing damage.” “I RUN OVER AND HEAL THEM! I’LL SAVE YA MC!”

Mammon goes out of his way to save MC’s character long before it would make sense in-character to do so.

“Well, as your first man it’s my duty to save your character! You’ll probably be a blubberin’ mess if I didn’t...”

He’s not the best role player, but he’s also not the worst at it either. He tends to break character when things get too serious and he doesn’t know what to do.

Notes who? He came in here with one sheet of printer paper and it’s for doodling only.

He and Asmodeus start the tavern brawls. No question about that.

Theft is very common, he’s stealing from everyone, including but not limited to: the party, the royal guards, the dead enemies, the giant fuck-you dragon that Satan dropped in there to deter Mammon from stealing...

“I’m gonna steal that crown from the dragon.” “Roll stealth.” “Nat 20 BITCHES.” “Fuck you.”

If his character dies, may the Demon King have mercy on his greedy little soul because he’s going to mope about it for a damn long time.

Over-Powered Self Insert Again (Leviathan)

His character totally isn’t a self insert, shut up! He just looks and acts like an idealized version of himself!

He’s the one with twenty pages of character info and backstory AND the amazing commissioned art.

Levi has about 40 sets of expensive blue dice that he claims gives him the best rolls but an average session with him usually leads to roughly 10 crit fails.

While his luck with dice isn’t that good, he’s the player who will get as much out of their turn as possible, AKA break out the calculators and notes we’re doing some math.

His turn goes on for at least ten minutes because of all the shit he’s doing. When you finally think it’s over he goes “I still have my movement!”

Takes notes like a madman, every bit of lore and character info is being written down, meaning it’s a headache for everyone involved if there’s a continuity error because Levi WILL point it out.

“So you all head to the east, the great Valley of-” “Hang on, valley? In the second session you said there was a mountainous area to the east.” “Levi, shut up.”

Levi is the self appointed “guys come on let’s get back on track!” player, and whoever’s DMing is grateful to have him.

Levi is kind of the opposite of Mammon in terms of character seriousness, at first he’s taking everything super seriously and then as the campaign goes on he slowly loosens up and has some fun.

Out of curiosity one day he searches up a magical girl DND class and he’s ALL OVER IT. PLEASE LET HIM BE A MAGICAL GIRL NEXT CAMPAIGN-

Damn good at roleplaying, he’s carrying the entire in-character discussion until everyone else gets into it.

The Done With Your Bullshit DM (Satan)

So, this is the game that’s supposedly summoning him all the time despite the fact that he hadn’t been up to the human world since the 50s... what the fuck is everyone on up there?

It was the 80s, probably a lot of drugs.

When Satan DMs, you can only break the rules if it enhances the story... or if it fucks with Lucifer’s really boring character.

He will fudge dice rolls every once and a while, he also gets very attached to the characters everyone has made so he doesn’t want to perma-kill any of them unless they roll a DND quadruple natural 1 sin or something.

As attached as he gets, he isn’t above completely raging, killing everyone’s characters, and ending the session if everyone’s being annoying.

Don’t worry, your characters will be safe and sound next session once everything calms down... just don’t mention how Satan burned your character sheet right in front of you. It’s your fault if you didn’t make a second copy of your character sheet!

He’s pretty decent when it comes to improv when a player stumbles into something he didn’t plan out, but that’s not going to stop him from getting a little annoyed.

Though, if you somehow manage to get to the big bad too soon... yeah sorry, he’s got a way more dramatic fight scene planned, your player’s getting conveniently blasted out of there.

As a player, Satan is pretty decent at the game overall, but he tends to be a little aggressive if there’s an overarching mystery to be solved.

He needs to understand what’s going on! He doesn’t care if it upends the plot or it’s too early to find out! He needs to know!

His character is actually distinct and different from himself, Satan thinks it’s more interesting that way. All the books he’s read have made him a pretty awesome role player!

Satan’s notebook both as a DM and a player is filled to the brim, no detail is too insignificant to be put on the page.

Satan doesn’t fear dungeon puzzles... dungeon puzzles fear Satan.

“Are you all stupid?! This puzzle is so easy a four year old could solve it!”

I ROLL TO SEDUCE- (Asmodeus)

At first he didn’t want to play, he doesn’t play these kinds of games, sweetie. He’s too pretty.

When he’s finally convinced he puts a decent amount of effort into his character, but leaves the backstory pretty open.

Asmo would probably be the bard... right? No. He’s the warlock with the magic sugar daddy patron, and the warlock patron is spoken to as such.

“Hey baby... how’ve you been? Have I been good~?” “...”

Huh! Who woulda thought that all the bedroom roleplaying would transfer so well to DND!

Simeon is the only DM that doesn’t immediately shut this down, so Asmo will be extra inclined to play if Mr. Nice Shoulders is DMing.

When he gets really into it he buys a bunch of sparkly and very pretty dice, they bring him good luck in every roll!

Asmo has a fictional harem, no question about it. It gets to the point where Satan, Lucifer, and Simeon stop describing NPCs as attractive.

He’s rolling to seduce either way, he’s turned many an antagonist into a lover. To be fair, Asmo’s horniness has gotten everyone out of a lot of jail cells... so they can’t complain.

His notes consist of really random comments about the plot and the other players. It’s also COATED with doodles.

‘Wow, this character is such an asshole, I hope Belphie kills them.’ ‘Shit.’ ‘MC looks so cute when they play their character!!!!!!!! :D’

Poor bab forgets the rules a lot... it’s just too much to remember, okay?! How was he supposed to know that he ran out of spell slots an hour ago?!

Please help him, MC...

*Dice Cronch* (Beel)

Homeboy has been given edible dice, no question. He has also eaten the non-edible dice...

Beel goes to Satan for help with making his character, and he ends up really loving the character! :D

Problem is, he’s not that good at roleplaying... D:

“Can my character eat that person?” “Beel, no- you know what? Let me check what you’d need to roll to do that.”

I’ll save you MC part 2 electric boogaloo, but when it comes to Beel, the entire party is getting protected, no matter how little it makes sense in-character.

While Beel does take notes, a lot of them don’t end up being very important for later events. For example, he’ll jot down stuff about the layout in one room, but it turns out he didn’t take notes for the room that was actually going to be used for a boss fight.

He’s always nice to the NPCs, shame Belphie doesn’t show them the same courtesy.

Murder Hobo (Belphie)

Chaotic evil.

“Belphie, your character’s alignment is neutral good, remember?” “Fuck that, this guy’s annoying me.”

If Belphie doesn’t like an NPC, it’s up to the rest of the party to stop him from derailing the campaign and killing them.

He has space themed dice because cow-man likes space and thought they were pretty.

Notes? NOTES? You think Belphegor, the Avatar of SLOTH, takes notes? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

He’s drooling all over the notebook... ew. Someone wake him up and tell him it’s his turn.

He puts about 35% effort forth to make a halfway decent character, and approximately 4% effort to actually roleplay.

Belphie sleeps through important plot details so he’s almost always really confused. He’ll turn to MC and ask them to explain what he missed before not learning his lesson and going back to sleep.

Wake him up for the dungeon puzzles though, he and Satan love those.

“Okay, we can’t see what’s in the room because none of the conscious party members have dark vision?” “Nope, what do you do?” “...I shove Mammon inside and shut the door.” “WHAT?!”

Bonus! The Best DM (Simeon)

Our favourite angel has homebrewed this entire campaign and boy fricken howdy are these players going to enjoy it.

Simeon fudges the dice rolls to avoid anything too irreversibly bad happening, buuuuuuut he’s still a total asshole who does the random perception rolls to keep everyone on their toes.

Everyone gets a character arc god dammit, even if they don’t have a backstory, one will be provided!

He’s got a map, he’s got miniatures, he’s got dice and backup dice for the backup dice, he’s got DM notes for days!

Simeon could be a voice actor with the amount of character voices he can do, no one ever gets confused with who’s talking.

Did someone just uncover a massive bit of plot that was meant to be found out later? Good job! No harm done! Simeon’s DM improv is second to none, and the plot will adjust accordingly!

#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Leviathan #obey me beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me MC #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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sherrybaby14 · 5 years ago

Text

Blue Spiders - Chapter 2

Summary: Fear pushes your relationship along.

Warnings: Light horror, background alcohol, (I have not warned for everything possible, please read at your own risk)

Words: 2k

Pairing: Therapist! Steve Rogers x female reader

Part One

She lived in an apartment. That was problematic. Houses were much easier to break in to undetected. At least it wasn’t in a great neighborhood and the locks on her doors were pathetic. All he needed was a credit card to break them. He accomplished that task this morning.

Steve in no way wanted her death tied to him or the New England Butcher. The kill would be a quick one. Gunshot, he hoped for a mugging gone bad, but it appeared she never left her place after dark.

Ten days he had been watching her, observing, waiting for the moment to strike. But she was always home before sundown, never to retreat again. He wouldn’t risk a daytime public murder. Too many loose ends.

It looked like the next option would be breaking and entering. Doable, but not ideal. Look like a robbery. Bullet to the head and the world would have one less awful person in it.

Under normal circumstances Steve felt nothing when preparing for a kill. Sometimes a mild rush of glee during the act and then a bit of euphoria after, especially if it was a victim he intended Agent Barnes to tie to the New England Butcher.

But this felt different. Personal. The few times he spotted her during the day he felt betrayed. How could she lie to him about her identity to get a profile for some dumb blog? And why did he feel a connection.

His watch beeped and he checked the time. Three thirty in the morning. She would be fast asleep. It would be over soon. Then the euphoria would come just as it had with the others. He was certain of it.

The sound of his car door slamming echoed across the empty street as he began his walk in the shadows, four blocks away from his destination.

You didn’t believe in a sixth sense, or you didn’t want to, but something was off. Wrong. You were being followed. Could it be him?

You finally felt somewhat safe here. Comfortable enough you followed your passion and started to make a name for yourself. Sure Miranda’s Museum of the Macabre wasn’t a big deal yet, but you were growing a following and you loved that type of reporting.

The last few days you were cursing yourself for even starting the thing. Today when you got home and saw the locks weren’t working your paranoia vanished.

Whoever broke them was subtle about it. If you hadn’t been paranoid you wouldn’t have noticed, thought that the chain was shut tight when a light tap would drop it. The deadbolt hole was splintered and pressed back into place. Anyone with a driver’s license and a shoulder would be able to break the thing down.

The right thing would have been to run, or call the police. Neither option was intriguing. So you sat next to the thing, waiting in the darkness. Every time footsteps sounded outside the hall you steadied the shotgun, blinking away the tears that you might have to blow someone’s head off.

Maybe you were going crazy. The locks had always been broken and you only noticed now? Maybe nobody was following you. Just the ghosts of your past.

Then, at almost four in the morning after standing guard for eight hours footsteps stopped in front of your door.

Your adrenaline flared. You cocked the gun right as your knob started to turn. It froze. Fuck! They heard the noise.

The handle fell back in place. They were leaving. All the shaking you were feeling came flooding back.

You needed to open the door. Find out who they were, what they wanted. But instead you collapsed, hugging the shotgun as the footsteps retreated. Would you ever be safe?

Loss of sleep was an understatement. Tonight you would get a hotel room. Then decide if you wanted to call the cops, fix the door, or flee. Life was exhausting enough and it felt like you’d only just started living.

The door to the office opened and you rose to your feet, pinning on your best smile as Dr. Rogers walked a patient out.

His face looked cold, but his blue eyes widened with surprise.

“Hi.” You gave a nervous wave. “I have something for you.”

His patient waved goodbye as you stepped forward, article in hand.

“What is this?” He grabbed the pages.

“The article. I said I would send over a copy, but I thought with the way things ended I should drop one off in person.” You fidgeted, thinking about your run in with Barnes the last time. “As promised, a glowing puff piece. It will be in the weekend edition.”

You watched as his eyes’ scanned the pages. His brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” You rocked on your feet, hoping to see what line he was at. “I taped the interview, but if I messed up a fact or misspoke there is time to correct before it goes to print.”

“So the article was real?” The Doctor looked up at you with wide eyes. “It wasn’t a ruse for your blog?”

“Ah.” You bit your lip as you looked away. “I am sure Agent Barnes gave you an earful. Yes the story was real. I write human interest pieces, Miranda’s Museum doesn’t really pay the bills.”

“So this is your real name?” Steve squinted. “Rachelle Miller?”

“No.” You blinked. “I write under multiple pen names.”

“So what is your real name?” Steve folded his arms.

“Friends call me Vee.” You shrugged.

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes locked on to yours.

You hadn’t spoken your real name in years. Legally it was changed, and with all the pseudonyms you used you hadn’t spoken it outloud in years.

“Well, um, I will get out of your hair. I am sure you have a busy day. E-mail me if there are problems with the article.” Your blood ran hot and you regretted coming here.

“No.” His hand reached out and grabbed your arm.

You glanced at his fingers and then turned to see his intensite eyes bearing into your own. His fingers slipped away.

“I mean with all do respect, but you look a little rough.” He nodded to his office. “Come in and have a drink. I owe you an apology.”

“Me?” You blinked and shook your head. “Did Bucky tell you I am just a gossip columnist and was lying to you? Using you for Miranda’s nefarious purposes?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality.” He made a playful shrug.

“Yeah. I bet he left out the part where he asked me out nonstop for over a year until I was forced to write something nasty about him on my blog.” You thought about the person at your door last night, could it have been Bucky? He didn’t seem the most stable. “I may have crossed a line, but what I wrote wasn’t wrong and he, well I think anyone who has met the man isn’t afraid to use the word obsessive to describe him.”

“I cannot confirm, deny, or discuss Agent Barnes.” Doctor Rogers walked over to a small liquor cabinet. “What would you like?”

“Bourbon? Scotch?” You took a seat. “I’ll settle for anything brown with a nice burn.”

“Multiple pen names?” The doctor came back over and handed you a drink. “How many?”

“Three I use on the regular. I do a lot of freelance writing and they each have their own specialty. Then several one offs. I have used them one or two times and let them die.” You took a sip and let the liquid hit your tongue, wanting to swirl it around your mouth and wishing it would numb your mind in the same way.

“Care to share why?” He sat down and crossed his legs. “That seems like a lot of compartmentalism.”

“Not a patient.” You laughed as you leaned back.

“Let me guess, they are all as generic as Miranda Balfour, Rachelle Miller?” Dr. Rogers leaned back in his chair. “You want a legitimate digital footprint, but not one that can be traced back to you. Why?”

“You sound like Bucky.” You tilted your glass toward him. “Only he has decided Miranda must be my real name. I would not try to do a deep dive on me Doctor. I am not interested in opening up.”

“I am not your Doctor. Please, call me Steve.” His eyes scanned you up and down. “You look very tired. Late night? I hope it wasn’t on my behalf.”

“It was and it wasn’t. In that order.” You let out a sigh. “Since you’re not my doctor Steve, and you can’t think I’m crazy since there is no medical relationship. I think someone, no, I know someone tried to break into my apartment early this morning.”

“Did you call the police?” A look of horror crossed his face as he leaned forward. “You should not wait on that.”

“I am not a fan of cops and they are not my fan either.” You gritted your teeth before taking another sip. “I cocked my gun too early. Someone had been following me, all week. I felt it in my bones. And then I noticed my locks had been messed with. So I waited and I felt so paranoid, but then the clock hits 3:44 and the handle jiggles. I should have let the door open, blown their brains out without asking a single question. But they heard the noise. Ran off before I had the chance.”

“There is a lot to unpack there.” Steve reached out and touched your knee. “Are you safe?”

“No.” You smiled at him. “Never. I’m going to get a hotel room tonight. Figure things out from there. Get some sleep, a clear head.”

“If you think someone is targeting you, you shouldn’t stay alone.” His hand dragged away. “Friends or family you can stay with?”

“What was the line you used? My work doesn’t leave much time for personal relationships. I’m either writing a freelance story of working on the Miranda project. Hoping someday it takes off and I can do that full time.”

“I apologize for being so forward, but I can be your friend, or else your colleague in the work horse force.” Steve set his glass down. “And I have plenty of extra bedrooms.”

You didn’t mean to display the cringe, and tried to bury it down, but there was a pain on his face.

“That is a very kind offer.” You slammed the rest of your drink. “But you are not my doctor, or my friend, you’re a stranger right now and I wouldn’t feel comfortable imposing.”

“I understand.” Steve grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled as you stood up. “I would like to take you to dinner, are you free Friday?”

“Now you’re really going to think I’m crazy, but with the strange feeling I was being followed and the incident last night, I have been scared to leave my apartment after dark.” The liquor had relaxed your tongue too much. “Well, now hotel.”

“I will pick you up at your door, we can go to my place and I’ll cook for you, and then I will drive you home.” There was something in his voice, this was the first time he had made this request in some time. “You will be safe the entire time.”

“Alright.” You couldn’t explain it, but there was a feeling in your heart, like it was drawn to his. Not mental, like a strange string was pulling you tigher. “I am staying at the budget in on Wilcox.”

He opened his mouth, but shut it right away and nodded. You started to walk to the door and he followed. Being in his office was the most relaxed you’d been in some time.

“Friday then.” He slipped you a piece of paper, you opened it up to see a phone number.

“I can’t remember the last time someone didn’t just text me their number.” You smiled eat him. “You are old fashioned in all the right ways.”

“Feel free to put that in your phone and use it.” Steve looked serious. “Any time, day or night. I don’t approve of your distrust of law enforcement or wanting assistance, but I respect it. Never hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” You looked at the ground, not wanting to face those blue eyes again, scared if you did you would end up being a roommate at the man's house. “And thank you for believing me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He was taken aback.

“Sometimes I’m not even sure I believe myself.” You blinked away tears and squared your shoulders looking him in the eyes. “Anyone else would have told me it was late, I was tired, I almost killed a delivery man.”

“I look forward to continuing this conversation on Friday.” Steve gave a boyish grin. “Or sooner, if you need anything at all.”

“Friday then.” You folded up the piece of paper and put it in your back pocket.

It was odd to find something to look forward to and for a moment you wished you were crazy and not thinking about fleeing and starting over yet again.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is turning into a bit of a slow burn, but I think the next chapter will heat up!

Tags: @toozmanykids

#steve rogers x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #hannibal #au #marvel fanfic

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iamnotoriginalphil · 5 years ago

Text

Family Matters (Zelda Spellman x Reader) - Part 13

Synopsis: Zelda tries to get to the bottom of your involvement with Bella.

Words: 1150

Warnings: none

AN: I now haven’t seen anyone but my parents for a week and I think it’s driving me crazy. I miss my friends. But I have plenty of time to write while I avoid them. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters.

Zelda was in two minds. On the one hand, she should call you out for your lying and betrayal, but on the other you obviously were not doing it willingly. You acted no different around the house, still the same woman who joked with Ambrose and sent her long looks across a room. Now she had to wonder if there was something more beyond those long looks than simple attraction.

She’d tried a scrying spell to locate Bella but was having trouble fixing on a location. All Zelda could say was she definitely wasn’t in Greendale. You, on the other hand, were in her house.

She didn’t want to raise the alarm without being certain about your role in the whole thing. She didn’t want you to know she knew. She didn’t want to raise her concerns with Hilda once again after being brushed off so thoroughly the last time.

You didn’t seem like you wanted to be working with Bella. That was the point that stuck in her mind.

She’d noticed that you carried around her copy of Dante’s Inferno with you through the house. She couldn’t understand why. It was hardly the most precious book in the house, and it certainly wasn’t the best copy of the book she owned. You kept it close to you when not in your room. It sent an odd spark in her heart each time she saw it.

It came to a head three days after she followed you into the woods. You were curled up on the sofa, the book in your lap, your lips mouthing the words as you read. You didn’t even glance up as Zelda entered the room, making her a little disappointed. She could admit to herself in the privacy of her own mind that she enjoyed when you looked at her. Your wide eyes always made her skin warm.

Zelda settled herself in the arm chair, lighting up a cigarette. She took the moment to watch you. Your tongue tapped your top lip as you moved the book closer to look at what she assumed was one of the plates in the book. She dragged her eyes away from you, ignoring the heat building in her stomach. She could think of better uses for that tongue of yours.

“Ambrose told me something interesting the other day,” she said.

You started, your eyes darting up to her. She drew great pleasure in the way your mouth fell open. Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips. Zelda could feel herself smirking.

“He said that you have a younger brother,” she said, “which suggests you have a family.”

“So?” you asked, your body tensing.

“Well, I’m simply curious as to why you are unable to live with them. Surely there is no need for you to rely on the kindness of strangers,” she said.

“That’s not an option,” you said.

“And why might that be?” she asked, leaning forward towards you.

“They’re not in a position to have me,” you said, “and I wouldn’t want them to.”

“You don’t want to stay with your family?”

“I would be with my family if I could but I have reached a point in my life where that is no longer possible. I won’t do anything to put Finn in danger and my parents would agree my being there is less than ideal,” you said.

“And why is that?” she asked, “what danger could you bring?”

“A lifestyle they don’t want near my brother,” you snapped.

She considered you for a while, her head cocked to one side. You were growing red under her watchful gaze and she was certain it wasn’t a blush. She lent back in her seat, taking a drag on her cigarette. Your fingers were clutching at the book, your knuckles growing white.

“So you understand the importance of familial loyalty,” she said, “and as such you can understand my hesitancy in letting you into my home.”

“I never argued with your hesitancy,” you said.

“The amount of trust I’ve placed in you by allowing you to sleep here is immense.”

She watched your throat bob as you swallowed.

“I should not wish to find I’ve placed my trust in the wrong person,” she said.

You slammed your book closed, almost snapping your finger in the heavy paper. You stood, the blanket falling to the carpet. You bit down on your lower lip, once again sending heat through Zelda as her eyes were drawn to your mouth.

“I need another cup of tea,” you said.

Zelda gave you a few minutes alone in the kitchen to recompose yourself. You weren’t a brilliant liar, and it was obvious there was something you weren’t telling her. You didn’t know she knew what it was. She did feel she was coming closer to finding out why you were doing what you were doing.

“Is there enough for two?” she asked, walking into the kitchen.

You yelped, whirling around, one hand clutched to your chest. She smirked, walking towards you, swaying your hips. You pressed back against the counter, your tongue coming out to swipe along your lower lip. She inhaled, sure you were doing it on purpose now.

“Of course.”

Your fingers brushed against hers as you passed her a mug of tea. You avoided making eye contact with her, choosing to focus on your own cup, looking down in to the dark liquid, turning away from her. Zelda gently blew on hers, watching the steam swirl towards you.

“What if your family came for a visit here?” she asked.

You froze, refusing to turn around.

“I thought we’d finished talking about this,” you said.

“I want you to feel welcome here,” she said, “if your family visiting will help with that then they should come visit.”

“That’s not happening,” you said.

“And why not?” she asked, stepping closer.

“Not only do they not live nearby but they wouldn’t be able to come here even if I wanted them to,” you said.

“And why is that?”

You turned, smacking into her. Zelda dropped her mug as she caught your shoulders, stopping you from falling backwards. You looked up at her, with your wide eyes, your lips pursing.

“Why the sudden interest in my family?” you asked.

“I care about your happiness.”

Zelda tucked some hair behind your ear. Your brow wrinkled but colour bloomed high on your cheeks. You pulled away from her, grabbing your mug off the counter. You stepped over the puddle of tea and smashed mug on the floor.

“My family won’t be visiting,” you said, “and I’d rather not talk about them anymore.”

Zelda watched you go. She heard you rush up the stairs, your footsteps loud in the vacuum of your silence. She looked down at the smashed mug, sighing in frustration. Sitting next to the teapot was the copy of Dante’s Inferno she’d given you.

Tags: @theenglishwizard @eyesofanangeltongueofadevil @hallospaceboyy @alexusonfire @justkeepbreathingnow @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @witching-imagines @praisezeldaspellman @escapetodreamworld @panicnymph @anxiousgoldengirl @theprassebox @witchessticktogether @pizzapyjamas @plooffairy @whos-to-know @spicyrice20 @fallenangelmuse @whos-to-know @step-intoyour-power

#Zelda Spellman #zelda spellman imagine #zelda spellman x reader #caos #caos imagine #family matters

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lyorofthequill · 5 years ago

Text

Death’s ribbon dance.

Dejah walked through the town. He was going to meet Carine and Tenebrous about a recent... Occurrence with him. He looked down at it again, he was walking away from whoever it was. He felt sick about it. He always did. He chuckled as waved to the Craver demon of violets, he was with his daughter, the Craver demon of the lily flower. He was one of the more respectable reapers. He worked close with Thanatos and Hades. He even had an apprentice in the small daughter of the Craver demon of spirits, the daughter was named Azrail Freyja. For a man like him, for any Craver demon like him to take an apprentice was unheard of. Some saw it as a sign that you had accepted that one day you'll die, that you wouldn't fight back against it, others saw it as dangerous.

Many apprentices killed their masters. Apprentices were only for Craver demons who lived rougher, they said, he was not so sure about that. He would prove that Craver demons did not need to fear the next generation, instead they needed to talk and teach them to take up the handle of Craver demons. He walked to the Alpha's domain. A wonderful little home. A cottage, almost, that stuck out of a small cave. A waterfall beside it, there Tenebrous and Celestia stood talking. They bowed to him as he came. ''Come, inside. With the others.''Tenebrous led them inside, N, Garde, Carine, Hecate and Serpentes. Ah, all the most important Craver demons had come to speak about this. He chuckled as he wiped dust off his jacket. He was wearing a classical outfit, something that would have been worn by American politicians in the later years after a revolution. His jacket was a dark purple and his trousers and boots were different shades of black. He had dark-ish, ash skin with silver hair and wonderful grey eyes with pink pupils. He had skeleton wings, not attatched to his body.

His black leather gloves kept his hands warm, he slipped off his jacket. He had a grey button up shirt underneath. He hung the jacket behind his chair.

''Well, I never expected a party when I came in? Is this all for me?''He chuckled as he sat down. Tenebrous's wife, Desiderare. Later her name would become the origin word for the word, 'Desire'. She was the Craver demon of lust and of course, desire.

'She was a loving woman, what she desired was a warm bed and a roof over her head. She desired ones to call her kin and to call someone her kin. She desired warmth and all things that was her right. She desired for people to be fair to each other. She desired simple things of life, such as a glass of milk with some cookies beside the fire. She desired to learn more, a curious spirit she was. What she lusted for was a lover, a child and a home. She lusted for the power of having some land and the little power that came with it. She lusted for the ideals of the people to become the truth. She had a lust for everything sweet and savory.'

A small excerpt from a paper that he and Manfos wrote after her sad passing later in years. Tenebrous smiled as when she poured his wine, he clasped her free hand and placed a kiss on it. He whispered something to her as he placed a hand on the one he held close. Both his hands over hers. As she smiled and nodded at what he spoke. She had wonderful pale, virgin snow hair and dark skin. She had been from the Craver Demon tribes in Africa, much human and Craver demon cross-breeding had happened in those tribes. They did not share the thought that they were equal with the Gods as their Asian and European brothers and sister did. Dejah respected their views and shared them. That Craver demons were another creature of Gaia, not above, nor below any of the others. She had mortal blood in her, some said that’s why Tenebrous first fell for her. As a human falls in love with their puppy-dog. If those rumors ever reached the Alpha's ears, Dejah was sure that that 'puppy-dog' would turn in to that black shuck that will tear them limb for limb.

She smiled and ruffled Tenebrous's hair and then walked away. Mostly likely to prepare the meeting of Public Servants and to take care of her and his daughter, Acra. Carine was the only one without wine as Dejah sipped at his. Ah, only the best wine. Vinum, the Craver demon assistant to Dionysus, for obvious reasons. It came from their vineyards. The best red wine, any of them had. It would later be missed by all.

''Actually, Dejah. We came here to speak about Celestia's claims about a place called... Elkar? Its been decided that it is non-sense.'' Serpentes spoke up, he bowed his head as Celestia eyed him. Dejah nodded at this, ''Right. And now my problem?'' ''Yes, your red-ribbon problem.''Hecate spoke up, she was leaning back in her seat. They all nodded, there were some seats missing. Yet they weren't needed for this. No, this was a matter for some more emotional people. Which was this, bar Hecate. But Dejah supposed that she was here for Celestia's problem, not his.

Carine smiled, Dejah knew that she was happy for him. Yet a Craver demon that was not born, that manifested, as he did. It was strange that he had one. It mean't that his soulmate had been either born or manifested, and he was excited to meet them.

''I believe that you have a forgathered us, to speak about this recent occurance,''Serpentes looked down at his notes, ''Because you wish to abandon your duties for a short time and find this soulmate?'' Dejah nodded. He was asking for something that came at a heavy cost. He took another sip at his wine, it calmed his nerves. He sighed and closed his eyes. Serpentes turned to Tenebrous and the other Craver demons. ''Sir, I shall be the one to say it. It will not be easy. There are no other Reaper, Craver demons. The gods need someone to help them.''Serpentes sighed, turning to Tenebrous.

Hecate cleared her throat as she raised her hand, ''Sir Tenebrous? Do you know how many people die a day?'' He turned to her before nodding, ''Quite.'' She turned to Dejah and then Serpentes and Tenebrous.

''I'd like to point out. That Dejah's apprentice does have time bending magic. So, she can slow time and maybe even do a better job then Dejah.''She pointed out. Tenebrous sat back as Serpentes laughed. ''She is training, an Apprentice.''He tried to reason. Hecate paused, ''So? She is the demon of Seimancy. She is more intact with spirits then a demon of Necromancy does.'' She willingly pointed out. Carine nodded.

‘’' believe that he should go. To find the person he is fated to love.'' Garde lifted his hand as he added, ''Its the right of every man, orc, elf, dwarf, Leo Capra and demon to find love. Why should we deny it to him?'' An agruement started, about ones duty against ones destiny. Dejah lowered his head as he listened. He took a large swig of his wine. Finally a bark came from Tenebrous as he growled like a hound. They all shut up as Dejah lifted his head.

''Dejah, do you have absolute faith in your Apprentice?''Tenebrous leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table. His wife stepped out of the back and placed a hand on Tenebrous's back. She sighed as leaned in close to his ear.

They could all see his anger in his eyes, shadows were about to destroy everything. She was singing a lullaby in to his ear, a soft one that the others could barely hear it. She was massaging his shoulders, rocking him back and fourth, ever so gently. The rest all sat there, backs straight, chests tight. They dare not look away from this act. Finally she kissed him on the neck and it was complete. He turned to her, he gripped her hair. Celestia who was a little less aware of the two, froze at this. Unsure if he was to slam her head down in to the desk or something else. Instead, he gently led her head down and kissed her. It was deep and loving. Finally the grip on her went loose, his anger was no more. Finally they pulled away.

''Love you Desiderare.''

''I know, I love you too. My king~''She purred back as she kissed his forehead and walked back to the back. They could hear the daughter giggle as her mother returned. Tenebrous turned to Dejah. He cleared his throat.

''Indeed, Azrail is capable. I will put my life on it.''He spoke it loud and clear, Tenebrous nodded, ''And it shall be if she fails. I wish you look, may the stars bless you Dejah.''

With that Tenebrous stood and left. The others copied, Celestia patted Dejah on the back. She froze as he grabbed her wrist, he looked up at her.

''Celestia? This Elkar business. I wish to hear more about when I find my love, Even take me there if you may.'' He chuckled, he was truthful. Another world sounded like a fairy tale. Yet he wanted to believe. She smiled with joy. ''And they shall welcome you with open arms.’’

With that Dejah was alone. He sighed as he stood. How idiotic was he, he was a demon of death. No, he was death. And death was now searching for love and was putting his life on the line. Hoping a young girl would save him from this. He knew he could be gone for years, but he was ready. Perhaps to even pay the price of if Azrail failed.He swung his jacket over his shoulders. He looked at the moon. Dawn would approach at any moment. He would pack and head out on the first ray of Ra's return to this realm.

#Original story #original character #original demon character #my own fic #original fiction #original fic #fantasy

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stunudo · 7 years ago

Text

BAU Prep School AU

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Spring Fever

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country.

Special shot out to @spencereid for the Elle gif. Kate makes amazing gifs and gifsets and deserves all the credit for her work.

March 20, 2017 7:02am

Ashley Seaver had been doing this job a long time, long enough not to bat an eye when an email from the Board of Regents comes through requesting the staff get a physical copy in their mailboxes as well as an official email. Dr. Reid really did need it in writing as he never set up his FBI email account, which amused the older blonde woman equally as it annoyed her. She didn’t even read the memo until she had printed precisely the amount of copies needed and sorted them into the clearly labeled trays along the wall.

To the Staff and Faculty of Frederick Buchanan Institute:

It has come to our attention that the personal interests of the faculty may have fallen against the clear moral code of ethics expected of the employees of our fine institution. To maintain the exemplar standards and ensure the impact of off grounds decisions are not hindering abilities to provide world class education and insight to our impressionable students, we beseech you to review the personnel manual that has been provided. If further concerns are brought to light, greater repercussions with be doled out accordingly.

Sincerely,

The Board of Regents 2016-2017

Erin Strauss

Mateo Cruz

Maxwell Ryan

‘Huh’, Ms. Seaver thought as she made her way back to her desk. The shuffling of heels and a cheery, “Morning, how’s my Seaver Savior doing?!” signaled Penelope had arrived for the day. The women made small talk as Penelope checked her mailbox, her attention drifting away from tales of the secratary’s puppy problems to the short, but intense memo in her hands.

“Whoa, mama.” Penelope muttered, shocked.

“Penelope? Everything alright?” Ashley asked. “Oh, yeah, Regents are still up in somebody’s business, even after Jason. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, I mean, no.” Penelope said defiantly. “Well, I, uh, better scoot. Ciao!”

Penelope scampered out into the corridor leading towards her office, her fingers fidgeting with the keypad on her phone.

12:32pm

“There’s my girl!” Derek crooned slinking into Penelope’s office during her lunch.

“What? How? How are you okay right now?!” Penelope gaped at her boyfriend. She nearly ran to the door, ensuring it was open. “Better leave that open, thank you very much.”

“Pen? What’s going on?” Derek held back from snaking his arms around her, playing with her fingers instead. “You said we needed to talk this morning, call me crazy but I thought you wanted to see me.”

Penelope slammed a piece of paper into his chiseled chest, “This is what is going on, Mister Muscles. Muscles that I cannot be touching whilst at work.” She bit her lips, hands raised in surrender.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Derek rubbed his head as he read the memo. “Did everybody get this?”

“Yeah, Ashley got the email just this morning. I may have checked her inbox. But, it doesn’t say in so many words. But, we got caught, Derek.”

“This could be anything, Penelope.” Derek put the sheet down. “Maybe Reid got a speeding ticket, or Emily told off a soccer mom, we can’t be sure until we cover our bases.”

“Exactly. Which means,” Penelope inhaled, flinching. “We have to break up, but not like, really, just for here.”

“You’re fake breaking up with me?” Derek’s eyebrows nearly jumped off his face.

“Baby, we’ve got to. We both love our jobs, in fact, that’s one of the things I love most about you is how much you love your team and the other kids.”

“But, come on. Really?”

“Just for now, until we know we are in the clear.” Penelope placated.

“You’re lucky you’re gorgeous and I love you. I wouldn’t pretend to break up with just anyone, you know.”

“I know, that’s why when we are in the safe and in the clear, Mama is going to make it up to you.” Penelope’s grin curled and flat lined in an instant. “But, uh, not now, or here.”

“Right.” Derek smirked, shaking his head. “Well, alright then. Mssssss Garcia. You have a nice, professional day.”

“You too, Der- Coach.” She nodded in closing.

March 21 11:27am

“JJ?” Dave had ducked his head inside the break room before the soccer coach could head into cafeteria duty. “Can I grab you a minute?”

She glanced back at the now empty table, ensuring her place was cleared. It was, for the most part. “What’s up, Chef?”

“I just needed an extra pair of hands.” He held the door to the kitchen open and she slid inside. The old chef working quickly, letting the athletic blonde pick up on the small sorting and traying of the students’ meals. They worked in comfortable silence and were free from the daunting line of hungry teenagers soon enough.

“Thanks, JJ” Dave smiled as she sneaked a green onion from one of the prep tables. “I see your appetite has come back. That’s good, I was beginning to take this thinning face, personally.”

JJ crunched down on the vegetable earnestly clearing her mouth in order to answer him. “Dave, come now, you know if I could I would have been in here everyday stealing something.”

“So everything is okay, with?” Dave patted his own belly.

JJ sighed and nodded. “Yep, doctor says everything is good. Now that I am in my second trimester, the queasiness has backed off.” Her hand instinctively rested on her barely bump.

“When are you due?”

“September 19. Which means needing a coach and a long time sub come fall semester.”

“Hotch know?”

“I’m guessing somebody told him. Did you know that having an unwed mother on staff is considered a breach of our code of ethics?”

“He didn’t say that?” Dave’s voice shortened in alarm.

“No, but something is pushing the Board’s buttons.”

“Don’t worry about them. You take care of the two of you.” Dave smiled, patting JJ on the back as they headed their separate ways.

Mach 22 3:42pm

“Come in,” Hotch said evenly at the knock on his door. “Ms. Prentiss? Hello, stopping by to get the previous minutes for the next Booster Club meeting?” The confusion on his face was nearly masked, he had no idea why Emily was stopping by after school.

“No, actually, but I will get them from Ashley via email, thanks.” She sat, stiffly in front of her boss, unwilling to mince words, she set her copy of the Board’s memo on his desk. “There are better ways of going about this, don’t you think?”

“I had no idea they were sending this out, Emily. Why are you upset?” Hotch held the sheet without looking at it, eyes wary.

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps someone decided I am the next victim in Lizzie’s temper tantrum.” Emily stared glassy eyed at Hotch, waiting.

“To my knowledge, this is not about you. Is there something you feel guilty about?” Hotch smirked, amused at the shocked expression on the woman’s face.

“Not guilty, let’s just say I am uneasy with the way the atmosphere can change.”

“You’ve been teaching for seventeen years, Emily. What possibly changed that much, suddenly?”

“I had a relationship with a co-worker. A relationship many people do not approve of.” Emily laid her cards bare.

“Emily this is not about one of the staff being gay, or anyone being LGBTQ.” Hotch explained.

“It’s not?” She nodded. “Good.” The relief at war with her unshakeable demeanor.

“Besides, I don’t know why you think that was a secret until recently. You went to school here, people have always talked.”

“I had no idea my private life was common gossip.”

“Emily, you’re a highly respected educator. Nothing about your character or your desire to fill these kids’ heads full of possibility is in question.”

She smiled, he was good at this. “Before I go, I gotta know. When did you know?” She raised her chin in interest.

Hotch exhaled through pursed lips, “Well, when Ian Doyle asked you to Homecoming your senior year?” Hotch shrugged.

“You remember that?!” Emily chuckled. “Christ, what were you, a freshman?”

“You threw his lunch in the trash and gave him a double middle finger.” The subdued laughter shaking his chest.

“And that proves I’m gay, how?” Emily countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You did it to get a rise out of your crush.” Hotch leaned back in his chair.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s okay, Emily. I had a thing for Mrs. Robbins too. I think everyone did. She always wore those-”

They looked at each other and broke into fits. “Miniskirts.” They said in unison.

March 24 3:17pm Raleigh, NC

Alex, Stephen and Kate stood in the wings of the stage watching the 2017 debate team await their scores for the first round of the Southeast Regional Competition. Zachary was off to the side as Sacha and Kimi held hands nervously. Trevor, Amelia, and Jake were trying to get each other to laugh, psyching each other out. The emcee’s voice boomed through the microphone, “The winner of the 2017 group debate with a team of four or more is—- the Junction School for Girls from Ideal, Georgia.”

Alex knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier watching the disappointment fall on each of her kids’ faces. Kate stood beside her, clapping encouragingly. They had an outstanding season up until this point, caravan-ing and squabbling over semantics to get here. Alex was incredibly proud of how far they had come, but it didn’t matter, the loss had to be felt before the silver lining could be recognized as more than a splinter in an open wound.

Stephen gestured to the kids, shaking his hand in the air. Zachary caught his drift and started congratulating their opponents on their victory. Sacha rolled her eyes and stomped in line behind Kimi, muttering her parroted responses. The teams cleared the stage and found their chaperones.

“Unsubs!” Alex waved over her head, despite Stephen’s higher perch. “Alright, how do you guys think you did?”

“Well, we lost, so-” Amelia started.

“We did good. They did better.” Zachary shrugged.

“You really think we did worse than them?” Sacha challenged.

“Zach is right, Sash.” Ms. Blake explained. “And that’s okay. We lost. It sucks. But it is not the end of the world. You, all, have grown in ways I didn’t know you could this season. You are still Virgina’s State Champion Debate Team, don’t forget that.”

March 24 11:14pm

Spencer Reid had been over to Elle’s apartment a handful of times over the year and a half they had worked together. He helped cat sit when she went home for Christmas, he had joined her for some awards show last winter and then there was the soap opera binge of summer 2016 when it had been too hot to leave the house and they watched a month’s worth of a show in a weekend. Needless to say, he had never arrived uninvited, especially not in the middle of the night. But something was off with Elle that day at school and Spencer hadn’t been able to sleep not knowing his friend was alright.

He should have called her before he left, weighing the concept of owning a cell phone in his mind before dismissing the thought. But he hadn’t called, so when he knocked nervously on her door, he was expecting a less than polite reception from her colorful mouth. She opened the door with a quick harrumph after checking the peep hole.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Reid?” She laughed at herself as she showed him inside. Spencer’s suspicions proven concrete with the jar of booze left out on the kitchen island. He squinted behind his glasses and stood anxiously with his hands in his pockets.

“I noticed something was bothering you, earlier. And, uh, I couldn’t sleep knowing you were upset.” Spencer explained, Elle’s face was rosy with the warmth inside her. Her dark features softened with the loss of tension from the alcohol. It wasn’t that she was more beautiful drunk. Although, those walls she kept up emotionally, had come down; allowing her to be viewed physically and not just navigated socially. She noticed Spencer noticing this phenomenon.

“You were thinking about me?” Elle’s voice was softer, deeper. Spencer gulped. “Would you like a drink? I’ve had my share and it is best to not drink alone.”

“Is it?” Spencer asked, not knowing that expression.

“So they say,” Elle grinned, bringing down another glass from the cabinet. “Take your coat off, Reid.”

Eventually Spencer relaxed enough to sit down with Elle in her living room, each clutching their cocktail glasses. He for a grounding effect, she so as not to spill. A comedy played in the background as small talk took over the conversation. Elle didn’t say it, but she was relieved that he had shown up. Too scared to be alone with her own thoughts.

“Are we going to talk about what sent my Spidey-senses off today?” Spencer teased, having finished one of the potent beverages and starting on his second.

“I thought it was obvious,” Elle shrugged. “The continued witch hunt from the Regents? I mean, it feels like this is just another tick against me for hurting their reputation for having Brayden put away.“

“That whole thing occurred on campus, Elle.” Spencer reassured her. “I thought the memo had to do with Penelope and Coach Morgan?”

“Please, Spence, Rossi and Alex were married, for like, years. They don’t get their panties this twisted over co-mingling.”

“They don’t?” Spencer’s voice cracked, the surprise evident.

“I mean, unless they are getting it on during school hours or in the locker room. Of course.” Elle chuckled.

“Right, of course.” Spencer shrugged, sipping the biting liquid again.

“You really don’t drink much, huh?” Elle pinched his cheek, as he tried to straighten away the disgust on his face. He froze at her touch, she was soft and warm.

“Not really.” Spencer breathed, she was leaning closer as if they were sharing a secret.

“Reid, don’t freak out, but I am going to kiss you now.” Elle said plainly, her eyes calm, yet searching.

“Wha-?” Spencer started as her mouth encased his bottom lip. Her hair smelled of honey and teak. He remembered to close his eyes as her hands found the sides of his face. This was nice.

Elle managed to take Spencer’s cup from his sweaty palm and set it down on the coffee table with barely a break in their kiss. Spencer didn’t know what to do with his hands, keeping them tentatively on her thighs. Suddenly she was straddling his lap and his glasses were gone. Spencer’s body was enjoying this more than the rational parts of his brain as he realized how drunk Elle must be and how this was not why he came over in the first place.

“Hey,” Elle asked, pecking along his jaw. “Everything alright?”

“There is so much going on, that it would be indeterminable for it to be right in its entirety.” Spencer’s fact voice replied.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Spence.” Elle explained then began stroking his ear with her tongue.

“You have?” His voice shifted with his unforgiving blush.

“I mean, waiting for you to get over JJ. Then when you told Emily off I got nervous again. But now, I think it’s safe. Don’t you?”

“Why now? What’s changed?” Spencer’s curiosity getting the best of him, his hands holding her small waist affectionately.

“Well, because she went and got herself knocked up. Clearly, JJ is out of the picture.”

Spencer froze, Elle closed her eyes at the faux pas. She rolled off his lap as he processed what she had told him. It was devastating him and the reality of its weight sunk in Elle’s stomach. The shame and the bitterness warred within her.

“Look, I’m sorry I said anything about JJ,” Elle began, standing and clearing their glasses. “But I’m not sorry for kissing you. Now, if you can say the same, we can keep talking.”

Elle couldn’t look him in the eye, because they oozed regret and she didn’t want their moment tarnished more. He had kissed her back, even if he didn’t have all the information, some part of him wanted her too. But he still loved JJ more, that much was abundantly clear. Spencer found his glasses and followed Elle to the kitchen.

“I don’t know what to say,” Spencer admitted. He always had something to say, why were words failing him now when he needed them most?

“You don’t have to say anything, Reid.” Elle’s walls were returning. “Thanks for stopping by. Maybe we can do this again, if Mommy Dearest let’s you out of the house.”

“Don’t be like that.” He cringed. “I came over to make sure you’re okay and I somehow made it worse, haven’t I?” Spencer didn’t wait for an answer, it was better left unsaid. He grabbed his coat and waved his goodbye. Elle locked the door behind him and bent over as the tears washed over her.

April 3 3:35pm

Tara Lewis wasn’t sure what was worse, the quiet or the storm. She knew her presence at the school hadn’t been expected. She also knew that the students had been allowed to slack off under their previous history instructor’s tenure. The audacity of her to expect their darling Sallys and Johns to apply insight to their history essays or handle more than multiple choice exams, honestly.

Dr. Tara Lewis was well-versed in the politics of private school educations of the spawn of the one percenters. She was, unfortunately, not used to the blatant biases of the south. It wasn’t a surprise, she was far too smart to be naive. It was just another layer she had to break her way through that glass ceiling. After the first month of her teaching had passed with little more than a catty remark from a student here or there; she knew she was still in the quiet.

The storm rolled in with a Coach purse, hiding behind a pair of Fendi shades.

“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Kane-Gordon?” Dr. Lewis asked as the mother wandered into her classroom, barely after the final bell.

“I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing!” The woman left little room for polite conversation.

“Ma’am, if you would like to question my teaching methods or expectations, I insist on Headmaster Hotchner’s presence. He should know about any concerns about my performance.” Dr. Lewis’s voice was saccharine laced venom, gaging that this parent was on the shallower end of observant. ‘He should know what I have to deal with,’ was what she meant.

“He has already been emailed about this. I just don’t see how Sacha’s grade could drop so much, its clear you’re new at this.”

“No. Sacha’s grade dropped because she is not performing to the standards set by this school or myself. If she wants a better grade, she will have to work for it. Now I am ha-”

“I’m not done here.” Lauren Kane-Gordon interjected.

“I’m sure you’re not. But I the bell rang twelve minutes ago, and that means I am free to go. If you need me, the headmaster and I will be happy to set up a meeting. Sacha can ask for help anytime. Goodnight, Ms. Kane-Gordon.”

April 10 1pm

Penelope squealed as Andrew held the door open for his mother and father.

“Mr. and Mrs. Heathridge, come on in, folks!” The guidance counselor led them over to her couch and lounge chairs. “I’m so glad you could make it in to help Andrew transition back into classes.”

Derek had stopped Andrew at the door, a welcoming fist bump turned hug for his varsity lineman. They joined Ms. Garcia and Andrew’s parents at their little pow-wow.

“So how’s it going, man?” Coach Morgan asked, trying to keep the mood positive.

“Good, that rehab was pretty intense stuff, but I’m really glad I went. It wasn’t like an addiction, like what Dr. Reid went through, but the body image issues and the need to be the best were driving every part of my day.” Andrew confided to the group.

“Oh, buddy, we are so proud of you,” Ms. Garcia patted his large knee. “Now, for the not so good news. Classes are off like gangbusters for second semester, you’ll have to check in with each of your teachers weekly to see that you are getting caught up.”

“And Dr. Reid and I are still having after school study sessions on Wednesdays in the Library. If you need me, I’m there.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Andrew nodded, writing down reminders for himself on a small steno pad. “And Ms. Garcia, of course.”

“Now, Andrew is still being recruited by Ohio State and Western Michigan.” Mr. Heathridge explained. “How can we ensure we, Andrew is the right head space to start in the fall?”

“Well, he knows he can come to us, either of us, with anything.” Coach Morgan began.

“And I have his doctor’s numbers from the treatment facility if we notice and fallbacks. This is a village and we don’t disappear even when our kids graduate.” Ms. Garcia added enthusiastically.

“Do you hear that, baby?” Mrs. Hearthridge’s stroked her son’s large arm. “No more, I’m too tough for help, crap.”

“Yes, mama.” Andrew rolled his eyes playfully, but she pinched him back.

“Alrighty, well, we have everything set for tomorrow. Headmaster Hotchner wants you to stop in to see him in the morning, he has a schedule of meeting times with each teacher outside of class time.” Ms. Garcia explained.

“Thanks again, both of you.” Mrs. Heathridge’s graciousness was infectious.

“And Dr. Reid, tell him from us as well?” Mr. Heathridge added.

“See ya, Coach, Ms. Garcia.”

The couple proudly saw the family back out towards the parking lot. They were born to do this; help kids grow into adults. Derek kept his hands at his sides, missing the hug of celebration from his Baby Girl.

Very Special Thanks to Cassie @mentallydatingspencerreid,

Meg @imagicana , and Loki @ay-nako!!!

@ddreammcatcher @ultrarebelheart @lightbluelester @criminal-anatomy @captainreid @thebadyears @amarislestrange @shaelyn102 @badasprentiss @fl0werb0nes18 @inestava @sam-carter-in-training @wonderboygenius @fortheloveofpearlet @valentina-pendragon-blog @imarockstar45 @chocok22 @cynbx @fairymega @madamredwrites @doctorspencerreidrp @mindsunleashed @dontshootmespence @bookofreid @marvelfanlife @welp-there-it-is @ilikeitwhenyousleepforyouareso @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @derpyprentiss @olicia-leeshy @lookwhatyoumademequeue @veroinnumera @sarahkay-19 @sammles27 @lesbian-asajj @teatimewithtiya @braziliangirlonasharkcity @alienlynz @janam03 @nobravery @clockworkballerina

@whymesswperfection @hagridsmumhasgotitgoingon @brooke0297 @xxmaddhatter39xx @gurliest @handpaintedgalaxy @kxlley

@krazykendraisnotinsane @bat-crazydoll8 @hownottobeaheartbreaker @captainreid @beereadsthings @prettyboysjello @megsi98 @criminal-prentiss @eternaldarknessiscool

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cordria · 8 years ago

Text

Blackmail

When Danny slipped through the wall into the mayor’s office, it was nearly one in the morning. Despite the hour, Amity Park’s mayor - Vlad Masters - was sitting at his desk sorting through papers.

“Daniel,” Vlad greeted, glancing up. Despite the fact that Danny was invisible, Vlad’s eyes zeroed in on him with disturbing accuracy. “It’s well past your curfew.”

Danny scowled and crossed his arms, letting himself become visible. “I was at the hospital.”

“Ah yes. How is your friend doing?” Vlad went back to making stacks of papers.

“Seven broken bones, a punctured lung, and a severe concussion,” Danny stated. When Vlad had zero reaction, Danny threw his hands into the air. “Seriously? Have have nothing to say about that?”

“What would you like me to say?”

“Like, an apology? A tiny bit of remorse? Some semblance of humanity?” Danny stalked forwards, grabbing onto the back of one of the chairs positioned in front of Vlad’s desk. “It’s completely your fault he’s-”

“Firstly,” Vlad said, looking up and pinning Danny with a dark glare, “it is not completely my fault. Mostly, yes. But some of the blame falls on the boy and on you. Had you stayed out of my dealings - and especially had you not dragged a fragile human teenager along for the ride - he would not have been hurt.”

Danny glared back, refusing to give an inch, refusing to admit that Vlad may have scored a tiny, little, miniscule point with that comment.

“Secondly, you seem to keep forgetting that I’m not a wonderful, heroic example of the human race.” Vlad looked away, grabbing a pen and signing his name with a flourish. “I gave up on those sort of progressive ideals long ago.”

Pulling his hand off the chair, Danny reached into his backpack and pulled out a manilla envelope. Without a word, it dropped it on top of the paper Vlad had just signed.

“Looking for an autograph?” Vlad deadpanned as he picked the envelope up and opened it. Pulling out the contents with a disdainful expression, Vlad glanced down at several photographs. Then froze. “Where did you get these?”

“I have my sources,” Danny said, going for nonchalant.

“Your father,” Vlad guessed - correctly. His fingers tightened, energy spiking around them. The edges of the photographs started to turn black and curl.

“I also have copies.” Danny leaned his elbows on the back of the chair, trying to pretend his heart wasn’t about to beat out of his chest. He raised his chin. “And if I don’t get some sort of apology for what happened to Tucker, they’ll be all over the news in the morning.”

Vlad paused, staring at Danny with a startled - and somewhat amused - expression. “Blackmail? Really?”

Danny fought to keep from squirming at the look. “You hurt my best friend.”

“I don’t care.” Vlad threw the pictures at Danny with a scoff. “Go home, Daniel. Or go back to the hospital and pine over your friend’s latest tragedy. You don’t have the heart to blackmail me.”

Danny picked up the picture that had fluttered to a stop on the chair he was standing over. “I do too.” His chin stuck out, stubborn and angry at Vlad’s complete lack of care.

“You do not. Besides, those pictures hitting the news feeds would hurt your father just as much as they would hurt me.”

“You have more to lose-”

“I do not.” Vlad threaded his hands together and placed them onto the piles of paper. “In reality, I have the resources and power available to squash whatever rumors those bits of rubbish would start. Your father does not. He would become an internet meme by lunch, and have lost all credibility and standing within the community by the time the sun sets. I would be hurt, yes. I may lose standing in a sizable portion of my public businesses, perhaps this position as an elected official would be forfeit. But I would not be ruined.”

“I-”

“Go home, Daniel.” Vlad picked up the next paper on his stack and started to scan it.

“No!” Stalking forwards, Danny slammed his hands down on Vlad’s desk, toppling over several stacks of carefully organized papers. “You need to stop hurting people.”

Vlad stared at him over the piece of paper he was holding, looking less than amused at the mess. “Then people should stop getting in my way.”

“Innocent-”

“Your friend is far from innocent,” Vlad stated darkly. “And you’ll get no apology from me that he wasn’t smart enough to realize he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Danny stood still, stewing in his anger. He hated it when people talked down to him like he was stupid. He despised Vlad’s logical uncaringness. He was furious and embarrassed that Vlad had shot down Danny’s blackmail attempt like it hadn’t even existed. He loathed the fact that so few people could see that Vlad was slimy and underhanded and evil.

“Go home, child.”

“No,” Danny said, too stubborn to admit that he’d been completely outmatched. Raising a fist, he pulled it back and aimed straight for the man’s hooked nose, with some half-plan to try forcing Vlad to do something.

Before he could throw even one punch, Vlad pulled a red, gun-shaped object out of his desk, pointed it at Danny, and pulled the trigger. A moment later, Danny felt his muscles turn to mush and he fell to the ground, twitching - and human again. He slowly pushed himself upright, reaching up to pull the two wires of the stun gun out of his chest. The world spun in dangerous circles, and Danny debated throwing up on Vlad’s carpet.

He could hear the scritch of pen on paper as Vlad continued to work. “I hate you,” Danny said, his voice a little slurred.

“Revelations abound,” Vlad muttered. “Shall I call your mother for a ride, or are you going to walk home?”

“Like hell I want you to do anything,” Danny said under his breath, but couldn’t find the energy to push himself to his feet. Even if he made it to his feet, Danny doubted he’d stay there long. Maybe the best thing he could do to pester Vlad would just be not leave. It was a public space, right? Nobody could make him leave.

He heard the click of a phone being picked up, Vlad’s voice speaking quietly, and then silence. It was only minutes (at least in his scrambled mind) before the door opened and someone knelt down beside him. “Oh, Sweetie,” he mother said. “Come on.”

Danny thought about arguing, but without being able to oust Vlad as the monster he really was, Danny didn’t have much to say. He let his mother hoist him to his feet and get him home. Still stewing over how evil Vlad was and how thoroughly Vlad had outmaneuvered him, Danny sank into his bed and slept.

The next morning, there was a manilla envelope sitting at the end of his bed. Danny recognized it with a flush of embarrassed anger - it was the one he’d given those photos to Vlad in. He scooped it up, determined to just throw it away, only it seemed much thicker than before. Danny opened it and pulled out a stack of papers, glaring down at it.

Daniel --

After that childish display last night, it is more obvious than ever that you have a lot of growing up to do. Although you made several very obvious missteps, I am pleased to see some growth in your character. Slow growth to be sure, but progress is progress. Should you ever wish some actual training in how to properly blackmail a government official in the future, I would be pleased to offer my assistance.

As for our other conversation, the enclosed should suffice. Since you are making steps towards adulthood, I suppose allowing you the occasional meaningless request is something I can accept.

-- Vlad

Danny growled in his throat, his ghost powers - that had only started to reappear after the shock hours ago - flickered around him. The note reeked of Vlad’s snobbish, villainous attitude. Childish? Missteps? Meaningless request? What did Vlad think he was… Danny’s mentor?

Pulling out the rest of the papers, Danny paged through them. The first page was a new statute for the city of Amity Park, substituting an old one. Instead of the head of the city council stepping into the mayor’s place if Vlad became incapacitated, it now allowed Vlad to appoint someone of his own choosing. The next several pages were a letter from Vlad - signed by several lawyers and most of the city council - stating that Vlad’s chosen designee was Tucker Eric Foley.

Danny blinked. “What?”

Attached to the last page was a small sticky note. As I have no plans on leaving this position, it read, this is as empty a gesture as any apology would have been. Hopefully it inspires you and your friends to keep growing.

Danny crumpled the sticky note in his fist and sent a flare of energy through it, turning it to ashes. He stared down at the papers for a long moment, debating what to do with them, before vanishing in a flare of light and taking off across town towards the hospital. Hopefully Tucker was awake.

#Danny Phantom #was a drabble #got too long again #but that's life

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izukacchan · 9 years ago

Link

fandom: Boku No Hero Academia

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou/Midoriya Izuku

A/N: this is a lot longer than the previous chapter and im sorry but this short little thing is now complete! I hope you all enjoy <3 (Also i always attach the fic itself onto my posts but i’d read this on AO3 for text format reasons :O)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (here)

It’s always fucking Deku.

For all his life, whenever Deku was involved his body set off some kind of voluntary alarms, so nothing about this was a new sensation, but the fact that the center of all his attention, admiration and...affection? -- that’s disgusting, forget he even thought that -- whatever it’s called, all of it being pointed in Deku’s direction to this degree was a new level of danger he wasn’t ready to handle.

What even was it? He knew Deku stood out, he knew Deku was different, but so did everyone else who ran into the asshole, so why had he let himself fall this deep?

Flipping around on his back and throwing his hands into his face he groaned long and loudly in annoyance. Something about this bastard was keeping Bakugou’s heart locked in place and tied around his little finger, every word held some new weight of significance that didn’t previously exist and it was making his stomach whirl.

Friend.

Rival.

Partner.

Why?

Why him?

Bakugou slammed the door to his bedroom behind him and let out the roar he’d been keeping in his chest all night...no, all day…no…all this time of nothing but fucking buildup for months erupted from his heart and out of his mouth as he kicked off his shoes and paced around – face buried in his hands frustratingly.

While pacing and growling into his palms he heard three knocks come from the outside of his wall.

This school could pay to get a dorm building set up in less than a few weeks, but couldn’t put enough of that budget into making sure the walls weren’t paper fucking thin, so often Kirishima would bang on the other end of the wall in the most convenient way possible of telling him to quiet down.

At that warning, Bakugou immediately resorted to trudging himself to his bed, collapsing face first into the mattress, and screaming angrily into his pillow instead.

Why Deku? Out of all the people in the world why was it Deku?

It’s always fucking Deku.

What even was it? He knew Deku stood out, he knew Deku was different, but so did everyone else who ran into the asshole, so why had he let himself fall this deep?

Friend.

Rival.

Partner.

Almost a decade of falling out and still being enraptured in each other made Deku both a familiar and unfamiliar presence, one that still managed to surprised him but he still somehow knew better than anything else. It was an odd mixture that made Bakugou realize no matter what, him Deku weren’t ever going to be the ideal perfect image of childhood sweethearts that you’d read about from a fucking shoujo, but even so…. what was this?

“It’s nothing,” Bakugou muttered to himself through grit teeth, “It’s something, but it’s nothing, get a hold of yourself,”

Lifting himself up from the bed he kicked off his shoes and stood up to the direction of the bathroom to get a shower running.

He wasn’t going to let himself be some lovesick puppy, okay so he might – he has a crush on Deku.

Whatever.

The next day is coming and he can just ignore it, now that he’s unfortunately and agonizingly sure of these feelings he can keep up like a normal human being and try not to be too obvious, right? Other kids like his classmates may be terrible at hiding their infatuations but Bakugou wasn’t any ordinary kid.

He could take these feelings and kick it in the ass like he did everything else.

He tried his damndest to keep himself psyched on that ideology.

He went to bed chiming the promise to himself in his head as a reminder, and woke up the next morning reminding himself over and over again.

He felt good about it, grabbing his backpack and shoes he sucked in a deep breath and smiled smugly to himself, fully reassured.

The minute he stepped out the door he was gonna head to class, look Deku in the eye, and get on with his fucking life like none of this ever happe-

“…Oh! Good morning, Kacchan!”

The minute he opened the door, everything about Bakugou’s determined posture melted.

“What…” Bakugou, started staring at Deku in disbelief.

“Uh…”

“We’re.. we’re you…,” Bakugou looked around the hallway to see if anyone else was with Deku or was maybe heading this direction, but no, the only person around was the one infront of him, wearing a mixture of a nervous and amused wobbly smile, “How long have you been fucking standing out here?”

“Oh, not long!” Deku laughed, “I got here maybe a few minutes ago...I figured you know…it wouldn’t be too bad to walk to class together, right? You don’t mind?”

Deku looked up at him with teasingly pleading eyes and Bakugou’s heart skipped a beat.

“No… no, fuck why the hell would I care?” Bakugou grunted, “You should still probably think to maybe warn people before just popping up wherever the fuck you’d like.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t care?” Deku huffed out amused, “Kidding, kidding, you’re right… but erm…so the real reason I came a little unannounced is uh…”

Deku started twiddling his thumbs around and Bakugou was beginning to lose what patience he had.

“What? Open your mouth and talk,”

“Well uh,” Deku continued with a smile, lifting one hand to the side of his face as if he were about to tell Bakugou an important secret, and instinctively, Bakugou stiffened.

“Do you… have the answers to last night’s homework?” he whispered harshly.

What.

“Wh- what the…”

“Heh…heh…”

“Deku, what the FUCK why didn’t you fucking do it before th-“

All Might.

Bakugou stopped himself, and Deku looked a little relieved he understood.

“Hah...yeah well see, I was going to do it before coming to Kirishima’s but then… I got a little caught up you know?” Deku started twiddling his thumbs again, “And when I got home last night, even though I was exhausted I thought about doing it then, but I remembered what you said about how ‘there’s no fucking point-,”

“-if you’re already halfway fucking dead,” Bakugou finished Deku’s poor imitation.

“Yeah, right! You said that last time I came to class kinda you know a little...” Deku knocked on the side of his head twice to finish his sentence for him and giggled nervously, “in the end, I ended up passing out anyways, so I’m really sorry but,” he pressing his hands together apologetically he finished, “please, Kacchan?”

So, he fell for an idiot, a complete fucking idiot.

“What the hell ever,” Bakugou hissed throwing his bag over his shoulder and stepping past Deku to walk ahead, “Yeah, I got it done, you’re real damn lucky you can write fast Lightning-Hands,”

Deku sped up to catch up to Bakugou and settled into a pace right beside him, shoulders brushing. They had been at this for awhile but suddenly the significance of Deku walking alongside him was a lot more evident, and he had to temper the shade of red threatening to cross over his face.

“’Lightning-Hands’… that’s a new one, although it makes me think of Kaminari a bit,” Deku pouted, “anything a little more creative, maybe?”

“Sure, how about ‘step-the-fuck-off-you-fucking-nerd’,”

“Oh wow, that is creative…definitely a mouthful though…not your best work,”

“You know what? You can fail actually, you get nothing.”

“Kacchan wait, no please,” Deku mockingly whined with a laugh.

“You heard me! Nothing, you fucking asshole,” Bakugou tried to sound serious but the smile creeped up on his face against his own wishes as Deku knocked into his side trying to reach for Bakugou’s bag.

All down the hallway their bickering continued, the sound of Deku’s laughter followed by Bakugou’s sneers echoed against the walls unknowingly waking up the last few people sleeping in, and momentarily startling the students already awake, but much groggier than pair.

This was not an unusual occurrence for the class these days, and Bakugou was only maybe halfway aware of how embarrassing it was because the other half of him always decided in the moment he didn’t really give a fuck as he knocked Deku around and the two of them chased each other down the hall.

‘Lightning-Hands’? What was I thinking?

Behind him, Deku was hurriedly copying Bakugou’s work down, whilst the blond ran his fingers through his hair frustratingly, clenching his teeth and flexing his fists.

He couldn’t tell what he was more embarrassed about, the fact that he may have been flirting or how he’d chosen to go about it. Either other way it was pissing him off as reality had finally dawned on him for the moments he wasn’t in speaking range of Deku.

So much for kicking this infatuation in the ass, everything mundane about their interactions were now hitting Bakugou like a train. Actually, it had been doing this before, so this was more like 10 trains consecutively piling on each other.

When Aizawa came dragging himself into the classroom and picked up their homework, Bakugou tried to focus on the old man instead, trying to put everything off his mind to focus on the one goddamn thing in the class that wasn’t going to give him as much heart burn.

Sometime in the middle of Aizawa talking, Deku started poking on Bakugou’s back.

He was still unbearably irritated, and now wasn’t the time, but Deku was insistent.

“Kacchan… psst, Kacchan,”

“What,” Bakugou whispered harshly not bothering to turn around like he normally would.

“You have to turn around, hey…” Deku whispered just as harshly, continuing to poke at his shoulder.

The tingle he got from the contact was returning, and the quickness of his heart beat only proved to piss him off more than it did excite him.

“Whatever you have to say, say it now.”

“What? No, turn around I want t-“

“Either say it don’t!” Bakugou whispered in a yell, still refusing to turn around and harshly slamming his fist down on the desk.

“Midoriya, Bakugou, do you two have something to share with the class?” Aizawa grunted, clearly annoyed with seeing the two furiously go back and forth.

Normally, Bakugou would turn around and freely communicate with Deku, in the few times Aizawa had admonished them it had been because they were too loud laughing, too loud with sounds of approvals, Deku’s “Ohhh”’s and “Ahhh’s” over whatever they were blabbing about causing a disruption, those kinds of things.

Typically, he just didn’t mind, but Bakugou’s dealt with enough class call-outs to not be bothered by Aizawa’s tone whatsoever.

And even though this instance was definitely a little different, Bakugou had become a master of coming up with a fake response on spot.

“No, Sensei. Deku was just asking a question,” Bakugou replied as though it were rehearsed, “It’s over with and dropped now, right?”

Bakugou aimed the end of his question at Deku, and though a little perplexed, Deku responded back.

“Y...yeah sensei, it’s okay really, sorry,” Deku called.

With a dissatisfied sniff, Aizawa turned back around to the board to continue his lesson, Deku buried his face back in his notes and didn’t prod at Bakugou again. Somehow a lot of the tension Bakugou was feeling had went away with knowing Deku’s insistence had been killed.

The remainder of the class went on normally, and it’s when lunchtime hit that Bakugou realized he had another issue.

“Kacchan!” Deku had stood outside his desk waiting for him to get up, “we’re eating lunch on the rooftop today right?”

Bakugou and Deku had started a tradition of eating lunch alone together when Deku came back from meetings and discussions with All Might. It was a time dedicated mostly to Deku talking about all the things the mentor and student had spoken to about in private, and Bakugou more than willing to listen and feed into all of Deku’s worries and excitement. It was something he’d rather Deku blabber about to him than just anyone again, anyways. It was easily an excuse for alone time, and Bakugou had found himself actually looking forward to it whenever Deku approached him with the invitation.

But today….

“Guh…uh,” Bakugou started, and Deku’s face looking a little disappointed, “Not…not today,” Bakugou picked up his lunch and bag and stepped away from Deku to keep a distance from his face, “You can just tell me later, or something I guess, but I promised the gang I’d sit with them and entertain their bullshit for a day.”

Deku looked at Bakugou as if he wanted to ask ‘why would you do that?’ - and he was right, why the fuck would he do that – but he seemed to think better of it and just resigned to a sigh.

“Okay…that’s um…that’s fine, you have fun, I’ll sit with the others too…” Deku was clearly a little sad and worried looking, but he took in a breath anyways to finish his sentence, “be nice to them okay? Don’t let them drive you too crazy,”

He forced a laugh, and Bakugou feeling a little bad and decided to go ahead smile smugly back.

“There’s no fucking way that won’t happen,”

Having been a little reassured by Bakugou’s silly response, Deku’s down-trodden face slowly began gleaming again, and with a laugh he turned to exit the classroom.

“I figured,” he laughed over his shoulder, “Still…good luck, anyways!”

As Deku exited the classroom to head to the commons, the minute Bakugou heard the last of his footsteps, his smile dropped into an evident and irritated frown.

The feeling from last night of being separated from Deku was erupting again, but now equally piled on with the irritation of knowing these feelings were making his stomach sick again.

He had to stay away from Deku.

Because avoiding the problem has always worked, right? Bakugou’s conscious asked sarcastically to himself before choosing to ignore it.

If he avoided the problem, he could figure out how to deal with it.

That was his new plan.

So at the end of the day when everyone was packing to leave, instead of waiting for Deku, he got his things and said he was going to his dorm alone.

“Alone?” Deku looked disappointed again.

“Yeah, as in ‘by myself’,” Bakugou grunted.

He never bothered coming up with an excuse for Deku or a lie, this was just the situation, and even if Deku looked like he desperately wanted to ask ‘why?’ or ‘what’s wrong?’ he just lowered his gaze slightly and complied.

“Well…alright, I’ll see you later then I guess?”

“Yup,” Bakugou replied quickly with little care, “later.”

Bakugou hurriedly exited the classroom, didn’t look at Deku’s eyes, didn’t stop to see if he had something more to say, just grabbed his things and walked out with his head held high.

This was a start.

When he got home he immediately threw his things down, and settled on his bed, ready to do this self-reflection thing and find a solution to the problem.

However, Day 1 of figuring out how to solve his infatuation only came up with one answer:

Avoid him.

The next day, Bakugou did just that.

Deku approached Bakugou in the morning at his desk as he usually did and gave a beaming, “Good morning!” to which Bakugou simply replied to with a wave and didn’t bother looking Deku in the face.

Normally, Bakugou would have responded with a grunt or at least some snide remark but his passiveness caused Deku to freeze in shock from going toward him for a moment, and with a worried look, he opted to turn around to talk to Uraraka and Iida instead.

This lasted for the rest of the week, Deku made open approaches and Bakugou either ignored him or hardly gave a response. Having Deku out of his space cleared his head a little more, but made little room for the intrusiveness his more painful and berating thoughts.

You’re an idiot.

“Kacch-,“ Deku had whispered behind him one day, trying to start a conversation before being interrupted by Bakugou abruptly raising his hand.

“Aizawa-sensei can I be excused I gotta take a piss.”

You’re doing it again.

“Kacchan, hey are you-“ Deku started another day, but had been cut off by the sound of Bakugou’s chair screech as he stood from his desk once again leaving early for home.

“Kacchan!” Deku had called at Bakugou’s back but he didn’t turn back to respond and just kept moving forward.

Don’t talk to him.

Sucking in a breath Deku approached Bakugou with his lunch and slammed it down on his desk, a bit of a desperate look painted his eyes but the smile of his still gleamed.

“Kacchan? All Might told me something really cool the other day, can we talk about it?” Deku spoke quickly, but his voice was left with a tinge of strain as he tried to hold up.

“No. Not today,” Bakugou avoided eye contact in his cold response, which was not nearly as strong as he felt.

You want to talk with him.

The next day Bakugou had walked out the classroom early, he of course wasn’t met with Deku’s excited gleam on the path home, he walked the sunset shadowed sidewalks alone. The sound of the wind and clinging gates that had been previously drowned out by the sound of Deku’s voice and his laughter on the trail were now louder than ever, and the pain in his heart was inescapable.

You’re starting to miss him.

Lain sprawled on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Bakugou grabbed a pillow from his left, repeated the thing he did the first night of his realization, and screamed.

Bakugou had spent more time trying to figure out how to avoid the situation than actually solving it, but the problem wasn’t him, it was Deku.

Deku was making him feel like this.

Deku was making him feel sick.

Deku was making him feel weak.

So how was he supposed to confront the problem if the problem’s existence twisted his insides just as much as being away from it did?

Tossing and turning, he tried to sleep, but everyday of this created a new pile up of noise in his mind that he couldn’t tune out, so much noise that he almost didn’t notice the sound of phone vibrating behind him.

Against his best wishes, his heart skipped excitedly when he opened up the phone to see the notification.

FUCKING DEKU now

Hi Kacchan! :)

Bakugou stared wide eyed at his phone for a bit, wondering how to respond. The bridge of texting him took a lot of his edge off, but he realized if Deku started asking questions about his behavior, he’d probably have to cut it off.

With that in mind, he sent the most neutral response he could think of.

what the fuck do you want

Bakugou expected a reply immediately, but there was a moment of silence between the notification of Deku having read his message that made him a little more nervous than he’d expected. However, when signal showing Deku was typing finally showed up, he stared at his phone expectantly.

nothing I just wanna talk…! ^^;

Bakugou grimaced at the response, it was too vague for him to entertain so instead he returned the favor.

I don’t have anything to talk about

After sending the text, he knew he was lying. He wanted to catch up, he wanted to make up for what time he’d neglected, he wanted to see his inbox fill as Deku spammed him with handwritten notes and explanations, and he wanted to talk about all the mundane things in the world, but he knew it would all lead to Deku asking the questions he didn’t want to answer.

Whats been wrong?

Are you okay?

And he’d have to answer, he’d feel inclined to give Deku the reason, he’d be forced in that moment to confess once the question was lain down. Bakugou wasn’t going to place himself in a position to lie, saying “nothing” was not an option for him anymore, so instead he gave Deku the wheel to decide where to go.

oh…yeah, me neither honestly haha :’)

And the conversation was killed, successfully.

Feeling a little bummed about it damned himself, Bakugou decided to fill the void by scrolling up to old conversations instead.

He found an old one from October and smirked, remembering it.

Kacchan what are you doing for Halloween this year? :O

locking myself away from you freaks, don’t think I didn’t see u sneaking around with hair-for-brains and four-eyes. Im not getting involved

gah I thought we were being sneaky >_< Kacchan its just a Halloween party, it’ll be fun!

Everyones going to be dressing up like what the fuck? are you all still in preschool?

Kacchan you only stopped dressing up last year, you don’t have to look cool in front of everyone :/

You’re right, because im fucking awesome already

Haha I guess that’s true too <3

Don’t be like that! Anyways, if youre not coming can you help me think of a costume?

Sure, not All Might.

But KACCHAN I could ask him to borrow his REAL UNIFORM it’d be authentic!!

You don’t think everyone would find it pretty fucking weird if u had an "authentic" all might costume?

Eh….>_>;

No All might costume.

Bakugou remembered for a bit Deku had stopped the conversation, and there hadn’t been a response for about 30 minutes before Bakugou got irritated and felt the need to push his point more.

If I wrap some toilet paper around my head or some shit will you do it too so im not the only one looking like a fucking idiot? Why do you insist on sticking out like a sore thumb all the damn time

Deku had responded immediately

Oh! you mean like mummies?

What else is fucking wrapped in toilet paper

That’s actually kind of cute… sure why not! Itd be fun to do something with you :)

say something stupid like that again and im cancelling

Fine… that’s really cool of you Kacchan ^^ Do you think we should get seros or aizawa-sensei’s help instead of toilet paper tho??? It’d be more authentic!

Would you look at that? Halloween = Cancelled

KACCHAN IM SORRY

The conversation went on from there and in the end Deku convinced Bakugou to go with him to ask Momo to clone some of Aizawa’s wrapping instead. And the Halloween party had actually been fun save for someone in in the class tying his and Deku’s wrapping together on purpose, causing them to accidentally trip around and shit, you can use your imagination for that because honestly Bakugou would rather forget it.

Scrolling down, more conversations ensued.

If i got a fish would u get one with me? The dorms said those are the only pets we can have and im lonely ):

No bcs then id choose the biggest and baddest fish and you’d choose some small little baby fuckmunchkin

Whats your point?

My fish would kill your fish

okaaaay....so…why don’t we both choose either two big fish or two small fish?

Id still pick the fucking best fish and you'd have to hold a funeral

Ok Kacchan -_-

A little further down.

Deku guess the fuck what

What? :O

Bakugou was sure the sign for him typing had been up for a long time and he pouted a bit embarrassed if Deku had watched the phone for it.

I was sparring with the arms guy right? The dude with loads of fucking arms, I wanted to show I could beat him in a fist fight. everything was going fucking great, only fists, I was dodging and everything but then the mother fucker clocked me in the face and my nose started bleeding -- he was so distracted by it I flipped the piece of shit on his ass with a sweep kick

It was fucking awesome, I guess using legs and fists isnt as shitty when I do it

My nose is still bleeding too. It’s a fucking pool of blood deku it just AINT STOPPING

Bakugou remembered he had taken over that entire conversation while walking to class after the spar with a small towel under his nose and a self-satisfied smile.

However, by the time he had reached the classroom he had seen Deku and Round-Face speaking to each other, glaring at Deku’s phone with concern and confusion.

“I just don’t know how he expects me to respond to this Uraraka. Do I get worried? Do I say good job? Do I-“

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SHARING OUR CONVERSATIONS, DEKU?”

He kind of laughed at the memory now despite his irritation then, and continued to scroll through mindless conversations with Deku and finding the sick feeling in his stomach turn warm.

And as he continued scrolled through he made two assertions:

The first one being, Bakugou was so fucking obvious, anyone who read this would think Bakugou’s been pining for Deku since day one, he felt disgusted at his own lack of ambiguity.

The second realization being, Deku definitely couldn’t like him back.

Deku was Deku.

Always this kind to everyone and attentive to everyone’s will and wishes. Bakugou felt the sickness in his stomach return everytime a “<3” or a “cute” made him read the text as anything more than Deku’s usual shit.

And because of this, Bakugou knew he couldn’t ever let Deku know about these…feelings. No, he had to hope it would wane off, finding a way to deal with it only led to one solution: Telling him. And hell if Bakugou was going to scare Deku off with his own selfish, completely unreciprocated feelings.

He had to wait it off for as long as he could, and that meant continuing with his Deku-Deficiency.

So for weeks and weeks, Bakugou kept up avoiding him.

Every approach and every day Bakugou shook Deku off, the green haired boy’s face begun contorting from worry to annoyance over the course of time.

One day after Bakugou shrugged off another one of Deku’s invites to lunch, Bakugou thought he heard the boy growl in frustration.

And as this went on, Deku seemed to become more predisposed to just keeping away from Bakugou too. After the school day ended, with an upturned nose Deku would purposefully leave earlier than even Bakugou, and on days Bakugou had caught Deku leaving with All Might in the corner of his eyes, Deku didn’t bother asking him to lunch anymore afterwards. Instead Deku would happily bounce off with Uraraka and Iida while Bakugou went off with Kirishima and Kaminari.

Bakugou was a little grateful Deku got the message and also a little hurt. Still, he didn’t approach him, and they seemed to be in a mutual understanding of this arrangement. However, the oddity of it didn’t seem to miss the class.

Unfortunately for him, Class 1-A have had front row tickets to the Ballad of Kacchan and Deku since the beginning of time, so they’ve watched the two from the first fight on Ground-Beta, to the unwavering and strange amount of closeness that grew between the childhood friends after the second one. So for them to have distanced again caught everyone’s attention.

Especially All Might and Aizawa’s, as he started to notice them whispering after class and looking in Bakugou’s direction.

The weight of it, the weird stares, and Deku being blatantly fucking obvious about his irritation was driving Bakugou mad, but he was going to keep his cool, he was going to hold it off until the sight of Deku leaving the classroom didn’t make his heart drop. He was going to keep it up until looking at old text messages didn’t make his heart beat, and until hearing Deku laugh with others while he wasn’t involved didn’t make him want to drag himself towards the sound just for the sake of being closer to it, he was going to keep it up until this feeling of longing dissipated into fucking nothingness.

He contemplated this, prided himself on this ready and sure of it until once again, the universe decided fuck all, its time to kick this shit in the ass once and for all.

“Bakugou, Midoriya, today you two will stay after school to put up the desks and clean up,” Aizawa had dragged out as soon as class ended.

Bakugou froze from getting his things looking angrily and painfully in Aizawa direction, hoping maybe the daggers in his eyes would force the teacher to take back his statement or at least pair him with someone else.

From behind, Deku only looked blankly ahead.

“Yessir,” Deku replied immediately.

“Be sure to lock up when you two are done,” the teacher finished, gathering his things and dismissing the class.

He wasn’t going to get out of this, he was completely fucked.

So when the school had finally emptied and Deku and Bakugou were left alone setting up the tables and chairs he wasn’t surprised when Deku finally piped up with the question after only a few moments of silence.

“So, are you going to tell me the problem or what?”

Bakugou whipped around expecting to see Deku’s back and ended up being a little taken aback when he saw Deku standing defiantly in his direction, rocking one chair back and forth on its heels.

Bakugou puffed out his chest taking in a deep breath, ready to tell Deku to mind his fucking business and put the chairs up, but Deku only cocked his eyebrow, the irritation in his eyes forced Bakugou to back track. The words wouldn’t have escaped his mouth like he wanted with Deku looking at him like that, the anger Deku was feeling was seeping its way in Bakugou’s own heart, mirroring it, and unlocking every bit of frustration he’s held in for all these months. If Bakugou responded to that, he would spill everything in the most ungraceful and ugly manner known to man.

So instead he hid himself again, swerving around and slamming a chair backwards on a desk to release a little anger.

“I need you to get away from me,” he started, and hearing Deku’s mouth open to retaliate he continued, “just … fucking go wait outside in the hall or something and let me figure this the fuck out, shit,”

Looking down, he walked in Deku’s direction and snatched the chair that Deku was irritably rocking around from his hands, and Deku just glared daggers into him confusingly.

“Just fucking wait! I’ll do your half, but if you want to hear anything from me you need to give me like 15 damn minutes out of your presence.”

Deku looked like he wanted to argue, but sighing he relaxed his glare and reluctantly resigned.

“Fine,” he huffed, stepping backwards and then turning to exit the classroom.

When Deku had finally left, Bakugou kicked one of the chair away in frustration and screamed a “SHIT” loud enough he knew Deku probably heard on the other side.

Bakugou had to tell him the truth now, and he hadn’t thought this far ahead. In all his avoiding the issue he knew the eventual solution was going to be confessing, but he hadn’t planned for a second how he would. Could he get away with telling Deku he was over it now and they could move the hell on?

Slamming a chair down he realized, no. You don’t just avoid someone for 2 months without explanation and then demand 15 minutes of breathing room over feelings you just “got over”.

So what does he say?

Deku I like you.

Is that enough?

Deku I lo-

Accidentally screeching a seat across the floor a little louder than intended he decided “like” was definitely enough. That was the word he needed to use, or something similar.

“’Deku, I like you’, no fuck that sounds fucking ditsy I need to-,” Bakugou was muttering to himself while setting up the last of the chairs, “’You’ve really been pissing me off lately and’ – No... ‘It’s not fucking you its me, about you, so I guess it’s all your fucking fault in the end again huh? – gah NO, SHIT!”

Bakugou kept up rehearsing to himself all through setting up the chairs and sweeping, by the time he finished the last of the work he was sure he came up with the best way to put his makeshift and rushed confession.

“ ‘Deku, you piece of shit, I know it sounds fucking insane but I think I got a stupid puppy crush on you and it was pissing me off, that’s it.’ Yeah, perfect.”

Bakugou cheered to himself, muttering ‘Deku, you piece of shit’ to keep himself confident as he stepped out of the door to the classroom to meet with Deku in the hallway and finally shoot this circus act in the foot.

He was ready to meet with Deku’s anger, he was ready to put this shit out there and leave it to rot. Maybe with the way he says it Deku will blow up in his face and they can put it behind them, chalk it up as one big mistake, and let it all die.

He imagined how it would play out, put up the barriers needed to take Deku’s anger head on, he deserved it, he wanted it, he was prepared for it.

But of course, nothing could ever go as he wanted.

Why didn’t anything ever go as he wanted.

Walking out to the hall, instead of being met with Deku standing tall with fire in his eyes, he was met with the boy leaning casually right outside the door, his eyes blank.

And when he noticed Bakugou’s presence he looked at the taller boy with a quiet sadness in his eyes.

“So?” he demanded, his voice cracking a bit.

Bakugou’s plan got erased immediately, again. Everything about him and his demeanor slackened in Deku’s presence and he simply stood there, frozen.

Deku pushed himself off the wall to step back from Bakugou, only a slight bit of determination glinting from his eyes mixed in with the gloom he was pushing down.

“Kacchan, you have to tell me what’s wrong,” Deku started calmly, despite the look in his eyes.

He’d done it again.

They were supposed to have been well passed this already.

Deku values his friendships, and Bakugou knew more than anyone else how much that annoyingly dangerous passion outreached, he was foolish to assume Deku would only be angry with him.

Because Deku’s never been like that, Deku’s never kept up long enough to only be angry, not with him, not with anyone and Bakugou should have known better.

But in the face of Deku’s emotions like this, once again his heart began to mirror his own, and Bakugou felt an uncontrollable amount of guilt rush over him.

Not over not telling Deku, not over avoiding him, but for just not being unfront with himself fucking again about Deku.

Deku wasn’t the one doing this to him, he had been doing this to himself, and it was going to inevitability intertwined with Deku no matter how much he tried to leave it, no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

Their feelings had always been inevitably connected like this.

And he had to get over it.

He had to accept it here in it's fullest form.

He took a step forward, and Deku took a step back.

“Kacchan.” Deku started sternly.

“Please,” Kacchan replied fast and flat glaring the boy standing off with him in the eyes, and Deku taken only slightly aback by the vague desperation, let his guard down just a bit to let Bakugou make his way forward.

Words weren’t going to work, he was messy with those, the intimacy and carefulness of the language always managed to miss him, and he couldn’t trust his own heart to say what he felt, so instead he moved forward.

Getting eye to eye with deku, he only looked down slightly. The boy wasn’t that much shorter than him, but enough so that he had to lean forward and down enough to make this comfortable.

“Kacchan?” Deku whispered.

Wordlessly, Bakugou let his arms go past Deku’s waist to wrap around the bottom of his back, biting his lip Bakugou dragged Deku into his chest and embraced him into a tight hug.

Deku shocked, didn’t know where to place his hands for a moment, and Bakugou shakingly buried his face into the crook of Deku’s neck so his eyes couldn’t be shown.

Deku finally resigned to placing his hands lightly on Bakugou’s back, using one to pat him gently.

“I missed you too,” Deku whispered, causing a shiver to run down Bakugou’s spine, “but this still isn’t explaining anything,”

Bakugou huffed and tightened his hold.

“Stop me,” Bakugou muttered into Deku’s shoulder.

“Hm?” Deku questioned, now lowering his hands down Bakugou’s back for a more casual hold.

“Do that thing you do where you call me an idiot, tell me this is stupid,”

“I still don’t know what it is Kacchan,” Deku replied, a little bit of the irritation returning, “you’re a dumbass, but you still need to tell me so I can tell you all the reasons why,”

Bakugou huffed a small laughter in Deku’s shoulder at his response, and they stood silent embraced in the hug for a long period of silence before Bakugou finally began shifting.

He loosened his grip slightly to give himself room, and while continuing to avoid Deku’s gaze, he pressed a small kiss to Deku’s jawline before immediately retreating into the hug tightening his grip, causing Deku to puff out a slight bit of air.

“O-oh.” Deku huffed.

“Shit, fuck, goddammit!” Bakugou spat curses into Deku’s shoulder regretting the action.

There was a longer silence, neither boy had broken from the hug.

Deku pat Bakugou’s back twice.

Pity, of course, he should have known that was coming, fucking Deku alwa-

Deku pat his back three more times, a little harder than last time.

What was he trying to be encouraging now? Like Bakugou needed to be reassured his ugly feelings were okay or someshit? Why didn’t he just-

Deku was now frantically patting Bakugou’s back to a point where it was starting to actually kind of fucking sting.

Irritated, Bakugou broke from his hiding place in Deku’s shoulder to meet with Deku face to face.

“DEKU, what the fuck are y-,”

Bakugou was interrupted by a foreign press of lips on his, rough and unaimed, but enough to get his eyes wide as the attacker leaned back from the kiss with the fire in his eyes that he had been searching for earlier.

“Are you kidding me?!” Deku screamed in Bakugou’s face.

Bakugou was a little dumbfounded by the action to reply properly, did… Deku just…

“Uh…” Bakugou groaned dazed, hands hanging lazily over Deku’s waist now.

Deku moved the hands that were wrapped around Bakugou’s back to roughly cup both of Bakugou’s cheeks in his palms.

“You idiot!”

Deku kissed Bakugou roughly again a little more aimed and calculated, holding a little longer, before breaking apart again with an irritated grunt.

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all this time?” he hissed, “You’re terrible!”

Everything was still moving a little too fast.

“Did… what the fuck did you just…”

Deku groaned exasperatedly and pressed roughly feathered kisses all over Bakugou’s face, they got softer and softer with each press of lips to skin before Deku slowly relaxed on his own and pulled back, dropping his hands from Bakugou’s face to his back again, pulling himself into Bakugou’s chest for another tight embrace.

“Me too…Kacchan,” Deku murmured, the irritation still scrunched in his eyebrows but a new softness showing in his eyes.

Bakugou was coming out of his daze enough to process that statement, and in a moment’s hesitation, he pulled the boy back from the hug and looked seriously at Deku in his eyes.

“You...ah shit," he to a second to catch himself, "you...like me?”

“And you like me?” Deku immediately retaliated, not letting Bakugou turn the responsibility of answering first on him.

Bakugou took in a breath before answering in a whisper, “...yeah,”

Deku sighed tiredly.

“Good, me too,” Deku grunted giving Bakugou a small peck on the nose, “I thought it was pretty obvious but for some reason you need these confessions spelled out to you,”

He finished that last sentence with a fake laugh, and Bakugou felt his heart beat again at the sound of even a hint of the boy’s laughter despite it's ingenuity. A mix of the fondness, irritation, frustration and longing that had all existed and were building up in the months came pouring over him and he tightened his grip on Deku, pulling him close again.

Obvious? Bullshit, this asshole wasn’t obvious about anything in his heart, he was enigma, a completely incomprehensible tool, how dare he?

“Shut the fuck up, I’ve been fucking suffering, you weren’t obvious, you piece of shit, you fuckface, stupid Deku,” Bakugou finished his sentence doubling on Deku’s prior action and kissing the him on the lips. Maybe a little rougher than Deku had, so much so it had the boy leaning backwards into Bakugou’s tight grip.

The frown that had been across Deku’s face turned into an uncontrollable smile as Bakugou let the kiss linger, but needing to breathe he started slapping at Bakugou’s back again.

“Kacchan!” he laughed against Bakugou’s lips, “Off, off!”

At that, Bakugou slowly and hesitantly pulled off, not realizing he practically had the other boy caught in something of a dip in his arms.

They looked at each other like that for a minute, taking in the look of each other’s faces.

Bakugou’s eyes were jaded but wide, as though he had dispelled every emotion he had into that one kiss and was in the process of recharging for the next one.

Deku on the other hand, had just got finished laughing and was smiling up at Bakugou with a gleam and fondness that Bakugou had never seen before. It was new look to be added to the book of things that made Bakugou lose all the strength in his heart and it got tattooed it in his brain as a permanent sight like everything else with Deku did.

However, while the smile remained the look in Deku’s eyes began turning sad again.

“I wish you talked to me,” he cracked.

“Oh…,” Bakugou breathed, realizing the source of the original issue came from him again and he punched himself mentally, “I…fuck…I,”

Bakugou danced around for the right words, there was an easier way to say just “Im sorry” but instead he opted for the way more complicated route.

“I fucked up,” he groaned, looking away, “I fucked up…because I was weak and…,”

Despite himself, Bakugou looked back at Deku from the corner of his eyes to see the boy has lost the smile and was contorting his look to annoyance again before even letting Bakugou finish his sentence.

“It was because I was fucking weak,” Bakugou reemphasized just as annoyed that Deku was looking at him sideways, “and I didn’t tackle it head on when I should have, but I don’t make the same mistake fucking twice so,”

He lifted Deku from the tilt in his arms and looked him in the eye as he finished with a promise,

“I’ll get stronger,”

Deku twitched his lip looking a bit exhausted and unsatisfied with the response, before his eyes seemed to glimmer with some type of understanding and it all finally molded itself into a smile.

“Everything’s a different kind of battle to you isn’t it?”

“Yeah and you’re my worst enemy,” Bakugou spat back, putting his forehead to Deku’s roughly and closing his eyes, “fucking exhausting, fucking stupid,”

Deku returned the gesture by leaning into the touch a bit more softly, and sighing with a laugh.

“Yeah, and I guess you’re just my idiot, so it works out in the end.”

---

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Deku started as they trudged back to the dorms hand in hand.

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” Bakugou replied, meaning to sound a little more aggressive and irritated by the question but he was still a little drunk off the scene in the hallway.

“Well… I think All Might may have put Aizawa-sensei up to this…haha…” Deku continued nervously tensing his grip on Bakugou’s hand, “I was really kinda um…mad?”

“Wow, really? Couldn’t fucking tell from the way you almost ate my face,”

“I wasn’t that mad then,”

“Well you looked like you wanted to throw that chair at me earlier,”

“Uhm,” Deku coughed into his hand changing the banter subject from the chair, “Anyways, I kind of vented to him because it was effecting my training a bit and he noticed,”

Bakugou felt a little drop in his chest at the thought that Deku may have been disappointing All Might with his work ethic over Bakugou’s hissy fit.

“I accidentally broke like 10 punching bags in one session, All Might looked a little terrified,” Deku laughed.

Bakugou imagined an infuriated Deku sending 100lb bags of dirt flying one by one and wouldn’t admit for a second that he probably would have been looking like All Might supposedly had been.

“So I really think he consulted Aizawa-sensei about it, which is why we were forced so suddenly,” Deku scratched under his chin with his free hand thoughtfully, “they seem to do that a lot, huh?”

“Those old men need to stay out of our fucking business,” Bakugou muttered.

“I guess so, but they kinda know best it looks like,” Deku mused leaning into Bakugou, “who knows how long you have taken on your own?”

“Be quiet, get off me,” Bakugou grunted leaning his head into Deku’s anyways.

Intertwined fingers, the sunset, the sound of the clinging gates, and all of the silence Bakugou had dreaded before was now draping over him comfortably with Deku by his side again, closer even so.

Falling for Deku hadn’t been easy.

Getting here was rough. The misunderstandings, the stubbornness, having everything about who they were torn apart and blown up until they were left with nothing but the reality and its painful fire burning into their skin until someone finally gave in to turn and put it out. The details of that are gritty and long, but you already know that.

Yeah, even after all of that everything was a natural and simple transition.

Like the way Deku’s hand fit perfectly into his, the way they bounced off each other’s enthusiasm over the tiniest things, the way Deku looked at him, the way Deku kissed and held him.

Yeah, a long time of these kind of things went on before liking Deku became second nature to him, another instinct drilled into his very core before he knew it, the passion, the fire, the adrenaline, even the tenderness and care, he grew used to these things as an essential part of his life, as something he didn’t have to battle against or push away.

Bakugou could live with this.

So much so, that the thought one day the final barrier that existed between him and his feelings for Deku would finally come tumbling down.

The one thing he still feared, but did not deny.

The thought that, after some time he would be able to peg a word on his feelings for Deku with the intensity he truly felt, and put the weight of those feelings into a more attainable and accurate context than just a crush, than just liking him.

And whenever he heard the familiar annoying ass laugh, that familiar annoying ass smile, and that now familiar brush of fingers interlacing with his own, he thought that day just might come someday, and someday soon.

It just might.

#katsudeku #bakudeku #izukatsu #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #wolf writes

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