#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos.

[rubyarrows]

A New Perspective

I sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee, while YN flipped through a magazine. We had been best friends for years, and now we were roommates. Our bond was unbreakable, and living together had only strengthened our connection.

As a detective in the Chicago PD, my days were filled with chaos, crime scenes, and the weight of the city's troubles. But when I returned home, I found solace in YN's presence. She was my anchor, always there to listen, support, and offer a shoulder to lean on.

Tonight, however, I had something on my mind that I couldn't shake off. Watching the sunset cast its warm glow through the windows, I took a deep breath and turned to YN. "Can you help me?"

She glanced up from her magazine, concern etched on her face. "Of course, Jay. You know I'm always here for you. What's on your mind?"

I hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. "It's about this case I've been working on. It's been haunting me, keeping me up at night. I can't seem to find the answers I need, and it's eating me up inside."

YN placed the magazine aside, her eyes filled with empathy. "Tell me about it, Jay. Maybe I can offer a fresh perspective or help you brainstorm."

I recounted the details of the case, the missing pieces that eluded me, and the frustration that came with it. YN listened attentively, her unwavering support giving me the strength to confront my own doubts and uncertainties.

After I finished speaking, there was a brief silence as we both processed the weight of the situation. YN reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Jay, you're an incredible detective. I've seen you solve countless cases, overcome obstacles that seemed impossible. Don't let this one case define your capabilities."

Her words resonated deep within me, and a spark of determination ignited in my heart. YN had a way of grounding me, reminding me of my own strength when I needed it the most. With her unwavering belief in me, I knew I could face any challenge that came my way.

"Thank you, YN," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

A warm smile graced her lips. "We're in this together, Jay. No matter what happens, I'll always be here to support you. We'll find a way to crack this case, I promise."

YN and I sat in our makeshift "war room," surrounded by maps, photographs, and scattered notes. With her background as a private investigator, YN had a unique set of skills that complemented my work as a detective. I knew that tapping into her expertise would be invaluable in cracking this case.

"So, YN," I began, leaning forward, "What do you think? Any ideas on where we should focus our attention?"

She studied the evidence board, her eyes scanning every detail. "Well, Jay, based on what you've told me and what I've gathered so far, it seems like this killer is targeting a specific demographic. The victims share similarities in their profiles, which suggests a pattern."

I nodded, impressed by her keen observation. "You're right. There must be a connection between them, something we're missing. We've been looking at it from an investigative standpoint, but maybe we need a fresh perspective."

YN reached for a stack of files and flipped through them, pulling out a few key documents. "I've been doing some digging on my own, cross-referencing the victims' backgrounds, social circles, and recent activities. I think it's worth exploring if they had any common acquaintances or frequented the same places."

Her words sparked a glimmer of hope within me. "That's a great lead, YN. Let's dive deeper into their personal lives and see if we can uncover any connections. Maybe someone close to them knows more than they're letting on."

Over the next few days, YN tirelessly conducted interviews, gathering information from friends, family members, and co-workers of the victims. Her natural charisma and ability to put people at ease proved invaluable in coaxing out hidden details.

As she returned from yet another interview, her eyes gleamed with excitement. "Jay, I think I may have found something. It turns out one of the victims had recently broken up with her boyfriend, but she never mentioned it to anyone. He's been acting strange since then, avoiding questions and changing his routine."

My heart raced with anticipation. "Do we have a name? Can we bring him in for questioning?"

YN nodded, handing me a file. "His name is Mark Thompson. I've already passed this information onto Intelligence, and they're running a background check. If he has a criminal history or any connections to similar cases, we might be onto something."

Sure enough, within hours, our suspicions were confirmed. Mark Thompson had a history of violent behavior and had been implicated in a similar unsolved case a few years ago. With the evidence piling up, it was time to make a move.

We gathered the team, including Intelligence and the tactical units, to plan our next steps. YN's presence in the room brought a fresh perspective, and her ability to connect the dots was invaluable to our strategy.

As we prepared to apprehend Mark Thompson, I turned to YN, gratitude filling my voice. "None of this would have been possible without you, YN. Your investigative skills have been instrumental in bringing us closer to catching this killer."

She smiled, a mix of pride and determination shining in her eyes. "We make a great team, Jay. I'm here to support you, always."

Together, we stormed Thompson's location, ensuring that justice would be served for the victims and their families. YN's expertise combined with our collective efforts brought us one step closer to closing this case.

As we wrapped up the operation, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for YN. Her unwavering support, dedication, and the skills she brought to the table had made all the difference. We were more than just best friends; we were a formidable force, unyielding in our pursuit of justice.

After the intense operation that led to the apprehension of Mark Thompson, YN and I returned to our apartment, both physically and emotionally drained. We collapsed onto the couch, relishing in a moment of silence.

Just as we were beginning to catch our breath, there was a knock on the door. We exchanged curious glances before I got up to answer it. To my surprise, when I swung open the door, there stood Sergeant Hank Voight, the head of Intelligence.

"Detective Halstead, YN," Voight greeted us with a nod. "May I come in?"

I stepped aside, allowing him entry, and YN quickly straightened herself, ready to face our superior. "Of course, Sergeant Voight. Please, have a seat."

Voight took a moment to observe our humble abode before settling into one of the chairs. "I wanted to personally thank you, YN," he said, his voice carrying a mix of respect and appreciation.

YN's eyes widened in surprise. "Thank me, Sergeant? But it was a team effort. We couldn't have done it without everyone's contribution."

Voight nodded, acknowledging her words. "That may be true, but your skills as a private investigator were instrumental in cracking this case wide open. You brought a fresh perspective and an invaluable set of tools to the table. Your dedication and unwavering support for Jay and the team did not go unnoticed."

YN's cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and humility. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'm honored to have been able to assist."

Voight turned his attention to me. "Jay, it's clear that having YN by your side has had a positive impact on your work. You complement each other's strengths and make a formidable team. I expect great things from both of you."

I felt a surge of gratitude towards Voight for recognizing YN's contribution. "Thank you, Sergeant. YN has been an incredible asset, not just in this case, but in every aspect of my life. I couldn't have asked for a better partner."

Voight nodded, his expression softening. "Remember, the job we do can be tough, but having someone you trust and rely on can make all the difference. Take care of each other, because trust me, those bonds are hard to come by."

As Voight rose to leave, YN and I exchanged a knowing glance. We understood the weight of his words and the value of the connection we shared. Our friendship had evolved into something deeper, a partnership built on trust, understanding, and unwavering support.

"Thank you again, Sergeant," YN said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Voight offered a small smile before heading towards the door. "Keep up the good work, both of you. We've got a city to protect."

With that, he left, leaving YN and me with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. As we settled back onto the couch, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the journey we had embarked on together.

"YN," I began, my voice filled with emotion, "I am so grateful to have you in my life. Thank you for always being there, not just as my best friend, but as my partner."

She reached out, intertwining her fingers with mine. "Jay, I feel the same way. We make an incredible team, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Together, we can face anything that comes our way."As we sat there, basking in the warmth of our shared bond, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, YN and I would always be there for each other, both on and off the job. Our unbreakable friendship would continue to guide us through the darkest of times, ensuring that justice would prevail.

#ruby arrows #ruby arrows imagines #chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead fanfiction

[insanesanitysparks]

Love Comes Tsundere - Chapter 1 The Proposal

Summary: A complicated villain takedown puts Bakugou Katsuki in a cumbersome position with the Hero Safety Commission. To appease the commission, Bakugou reluctantly agrees to enter an arranged marriage with you, the quirkless daughter of a prominent member on the commission. Now you and Katsuki have to figure out how to live and maybe even learn to love someone you don't truly know.

Tags: Minors DNI, Bakugou Katsuki/Female Reader, Bakugou Katsuki, Female Reader, Arranged Marriage, Marriage, Fluff, Steamy Fluff, Spicy Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Gradual Romance, Slow Romance, Eventual Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad At Feelings, Protective Bakugou Katsuki,  Tsundere Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Bakugou Katsuki is A Good Significant Other, Slow Burn, Not Beta Read, I Do Not Do Chapter Warnings, So Read At Your Own Risk, Add Tags As I Go

Notes: I update faster on my Ao3 account. I like comments, even if they're just constructive criticism. I'm always looking to improve my writing. I am lonely and desperate for attention :p

Chapter 1 - The Proposal

The warm scent of freshly printed paper and the still silence of an empty office made for a boring wait, especially for a pro hero strongly accustomed to action. The drone of professional gray walls, the chill of metal filing cabinets, and the reeking stench of power from a fancy polished desk told the young hero that person who occupied this office was powerful. Powerful, but most likely impotent, using his wealth to make up for where he fell short. On top of that, the office jackass was making the hero wait damn near forever to talk about damn damage control. Inconsiderate bastard.

Finally, the door opened and the overcompensating ass himself walked in, haughty, like he hadn't just made the hero wait for him. "About damn time!" The young hero growled, his piercing red eyes shooting the older man a death glare. "I've been waiting for a whole fucking hour! You and I both know you've got better shit to do than to clean up my mess, so why the hell did it take you so fucking long?"

"My apologies, young Bakugou," The drawl of the man's false regret sent a cold, irritating shiver down Bakugou's spine. His eye twitched as the man casually moved past him to sit at his desk, "it is quite a mess out there though, the clean up is going to be a pain."

"Tell me something I don't already fucking know!" Bakugou huffed, running a hand through his spikey, blonde locks. "Didn't really have a whole lot of options out there though. If it had been anyone else responding to that situation then it would have been a lot worse! I don't even know why the hell you commission office bastards are getting so worked up over it anyway!"

"Yes, well, us 'office bastards' aren't just looking at lives saved and casualties. There's a lot more that happens in these walls than I think you give us credit for." The man sighed and pulled a folder from the work bag he'd brought with him and laid it on the desk. "Still, it is quite an unfortunate situation. No one is blaming you of course, you were off-duty and you were quite ill-prepared for dealing with the chaos; however, the commission still deems it reasonable to revoke your hero license for the time being. Just while they launch their investigation into the events. Then, provided they don't find anything suspicious, your license will be renewed and you'll be back to doing hero work!"

Bakugou bristled at the man insulting his preparedness. He was always fucking prepared! It wasn't his fault the civilians made the situation worse! He'd done everything he logically could do given the situation! "So you're suspending my license?" The blond hero hissed through gritted teeth. It would be a miracle if he didn't assault this pretentious asshole before he left!

"Well, we don't really have any other options here..." The man hummed and tapped his fingers on the desk, stilling before he spoke again, "Unless...maybe we could help each other?" The satisfaction dripping from the man's tone disgusted Bakugou and the gaze in the man's eyes was that of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run. Bakugou's blood ran cold and he just knew that he was going to kill this man! Hell, even the damn nerd's mumbling ass was more tolerable than this bastard!

Bakugou met the man's hungry eyes with a hardened glare of his own before emitting an exasperated sigh and turning his head away from the bastard. "Of course! And I assume there's a catch to this? What the hell do you want me to do? I don't do illegal shit if that's what you're wanting."

"Oh, of course not!" A smug smile plastered the bastard's face making Bakugou's skin crawl. "Now, I've noticed that throughout your entire high school and rookie hero career, you've never attended any events or award ceremonies with a pretty little lady swooning on your shoulder. I always supposed that you could be waiting for the right little lady, though with you I assume it's more likely that you don't consider a little arm candy to be worth the time. Time that could be spent furthering your career. Unless...maybe men run more your type? You always looked good with that Red Riot fellow, wasn't he in your-"

"Is there a point to all this? Or do you just like hearing yourself talk?" Bakugou interrupted when the bastard suggested a sexual relationship with Eijirou. Ever since the first year sports festival, Bakugou had seen the dumbass redhead as a brother. "Let's go charging into battle together!" Eijirou had so boldly exclaimed, refusing to let Bakugou turn him down. Or when the red-haired idiot fearlessly came to rescue him from the League. Charging into battle together... Bakugou couldn't imagine anyone else he'd want to have his back, as an ally and a friend, not a fucking oversexualized, fan-paired fucking couple!

"I'm just curious if you're interested in girls!" The bastard held his hands up in mock surrender, "Or do you simply lack the drive and therefore avoid them?"

Bakugou's blood was already boiling, and his face was undoubtedly red with rage. Now, he was seconds away from going nuclear with his quirk. Lack the drive? Lack the drive! Unlike your impotent ass I don't need a bitch to help me get off! You think just because I'm not running around chasing ass like a horny fucking dog in heat that I'm some sort of impotent freak like you! Cocky, fucking bastard! Implying that I should screw my best friend or chase pussy for arm candy! Little sparks danced across his hands, the threat and promise of violence growing ever closer. "Get. To. The. Fucking. Point." The blond growled. He didn't have time for this bullshit!

"Yes, I suppose I am making this longer than it needs to be." The man nodded as though they were having a normal conversation, not one where he could die or the young hero could lose his license. "I want you to marry my daughter, or more specifically, my friend's daughter. You see, she's quirkless and quite a burden to take care of. So clumsy and needy, helpless really. It's hard for me to get much work done with her around. My colleagues and I aren't thrilled about having to clean up your mess, but if you would be kind enough to take her off my hands for me then my team and I will make sure that everything is resolved before the sun sets this evening. What do you say?"

"The hell?" Bakugou blinked back his surprise. He wanted him to what? "You want me to marry...wait, if she's your friend's daughter why the hell do you want me to marry her?"

"Her father passed away, left her in my care. She doesn't know, of course, he died when she was young and I've looked after her ever since. But she's a growing woman, a lot harder to take care of than a child. Marrying her off to a powerful, young hero like you seems like the ideal scenario. You'll be strong enough to protect her without struggling like me." The bastard opened the file in front of him and slid a photo across his desk to the blond. A picture of the girl in question.

Bakugou stared at the young woman in the photo. She wasn't terrible looking...plain skin, simple hair framing a shy face based on the way she cast her eyes downward... She didn't look like a bitch, anyone who would intentionally cause a lot of trouble. If anything, she kind of looked like a ditsy nerd, like damn Deku! He glanced back at her guardian, the bastard pretending to be her father. If he'd raised her for as long as she could remember, would she be like him? Even if she didn't look like him? He considered his options, not thrilled at the idea of marrying a complete stranger. But did he have any other option? If he lost his license, even for a little bit, it would put him behind... It would definitely put a dent in his popularity, a dent he couldn't afford with Shoto and Deku competing with him for the number one spot. They almost always matched in arrests, popularity, and minimized damage. They'd been rotating the number one spot between the three of them since they graduated from Yuuei! Something that would change if Bakugou lost his license. They'd push him down to the third spot and he'd be forever stuck there with the damn half-n-half bastard and the shitty nerd taking the top two spots! "I lose my hero license if I don't marry her, correct?"

"Well, not to sound like I'm blackmailing you or anything of that nature, but yes. If you refuse to marry her, my team won't be so cooperative and you're license will be revoked while we investigate. Add to that the dip your popularity will take and your hero career will fall to the dust."

Bakugou protested, voice straining in his failing efforts not to continue yelling as he fought against his apparent fate. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"True, but the public won't see it that way and the investigation, well, we all know that the investigations aren't usually favorable toward the heroes..." The man pointed out smugly, clearly not intimidated by the blond's explosive personality. " If it helps, think of it this way-you don't necessarily have to love her, just marry her for the image. Pro-hero Dynamight marries a poor, defenseless quirkless woman! What an amazing hero he is!"

"It's Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight!" Bakugou huffed, though with less gusto than before.

"Right, apologies. Anyway, if she doesn't interest you, you don't have to fall in love with her or fuck her...just make her an overpaid maid with benefits and get yourself a little honey to keep on the side. Ignore her for all I care! Just get the damn bitch off my hands."

A long moment of silence passed before Bakugou spoke again, his head spinning. He hated how nonchalant the bastard was about implying infidelity, about marrying a girl just to gain popularity. It certainly didn't feel right, but if he wanted to hold onto the number one hero spot for more than one year, he couldn't afford to lose his hero license. Even if only for a short while! The blond lowered his head in defeat, hands folded in front of him to keep himself from just exploding the bastard and temporarily solving the problem, "When do we get married?"

#Minors DNI #Bakugou Katsuki/Female Reader #Bakugou Katsuki #Female Reader #Arranged Marriage #Marriage #Fluff #Steamy Fluff #Spicy Fluff #Friendship #Romance #Gradual Romance #Slow Romance #Eventual Romance #Strangers to Lovers #Angst #Fluff and Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Eventual Smut #Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot #Bakugou Katsuki is Bad At Feelings #Protective Bakugou Katsuki #Tsundere Bakugou Katsuki #Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki #Bakugou Katsuki is A Good Significant Other #Slow Burn #Not Beta Read #I Do Not Do Chapter Warnings #So Read At Your Own Risk #Add Tags As I Go

[dadukos-arc]

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ?

SEA OF LOVE

“ if i stay here, trouble will find me / if i stay here, i’ll never leave ”. love to you is a form of drowning. you love powerfully, passionately —— all your devotion spills out of you right from the start. love is terrifying and desperate, love is excruciating, cathartic, it cuts you up and rearranges you. you love with abandon, which means diving in is terrifying: you will devote yourself to your partner, but only a partner who will help you dive into the water will get the whole of you. once you give yourself to them, you give all of yourself —— perhaps this is why it scares you so much. it means losing a part of yourself, too.

tagged : nobody, i created this quiz months ago and i need to bring it back just bc 100% more people need to take it. tagging : literally everyone who follows me 

#𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 — maybe i’ve always been more comfortable in chaos ( file ). #this quiz is my legacy #the only good thing i've ever made <3

[stfredsa]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄?

a sweet lullaby —— my sister and i used to make up nonsensical lullabies for my younger brother when he was little so he’d go to sleep and the laughter that engulfed the room at the time is what your soulmate would be like. no matter how weird the rhyme, it would always end with an “i love you” and a boop on the nose, and somehow, even if the lullaby was more befitting of a sea shanty, my brother would fall asleep. i wish you sleepful nights with sweet dreams, next to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

TAGGED   /  stolen from @theimpalpable ♥ TAGGING   /   @kalixus, @asynjja, @indizien​, @omends​, @fortunefavours​, @carelessgraces​, @simcl​, @perdefinitio​ + anyone who wants to do this!

#DASH GAMES —— i'm the hero of the story. #FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #maybe this isn't like #extra accurate #but it's the mention of sleep that gets me #because that's really a fred thing - #being able to sleep only in the presence #of someone she truly loves #it's a sign of her unhealthy dependency on people tbh #like -- being on her own causes her anxiety #being with that one person #is the only thing that allows her to rest #and be at peace #this soft idiot

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hello everyone. I’ve been wanting to write something longer for this couple for a while, and this idea seemed quite fun. I hope you all enjoy it and maybe I can convert some of you to living Freed x Gajeel. Happy reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter One - Makarov's Idea

As he walked towards the guildhall, Freed kept looking up at the moon.

The nights sky was cloudless and gave him an unhindered view of stars and the moon. It was a beautiful sight, but made him frown a little. The moon was large and nearly in its fullest state, a concern for the time of year. It had been some time since the full moon had coincided with the longest day of the year, and it seemed like it was going to happen again this year. The brimstone in his blood seemed to fizz at the idea, and he quickly looked away.

At his side, Laxus bumped his shoulder to get his attention. His frown told Freed that the dragon-Slayer had seen his concern, and he smiled to comfort the man.

"Nothing to concern yourself about," Freed assured him. "I've got it under control."

"Make sure you do," Laxus instructed. "No missions until it's over, right?"

"Of course," Freed nodded.

Laxus seemed to think the matter settled at that, but Freed wasn't so sure. The entirety of the guild - or at least those not already on missions - had been called to the guildhall that night. Makarov hadn't explained why he wanted everyone present, but it was entirely possible that they would all be dragged away on a mission and that Freed would be forced to act as if everything was normal. So promising that he wouldn't go on any missions was more wishful thinking than anything else.

Still, if he did have to go on a mission, he could handle it. Six years ago, it had taken him by surprise. Not this time.

"Let's take bets," Bickslow, unaware of the hushed conversation, stated mischievously. "Fifty-fifty odds of it being either a world ending disaster we have to deal with, or some weird competition so he can perv on the gals again."

Laxus winced at the second option, but didn't deny it.

"It better not be the second one," Evergreen huffed. "But knowing him, it probably will be. So I'll put five hundred jewels on that."

"Nah, it's been too long since we all nearly died," Bickslow shrugged. "Five hundred on the world ending. You two sticks in the mud gonna get involved?"

Freed had stopped listening to their conversation moments before, and found his worries back on the sky. The full moon had been scheduled in exactly one week, and it meant trouble for him. He should be making preparations in case he lost control of himself; this was all a distraction. He should leave town, just in case.

His team looked at him in concern, but remained quiet.

As they approached the doors, Freed's mind remained preoccupied. A hand clasped onto his shoulder and jerked him back, and he realised it was Laxus. He frowned, only then realising he had nearly walked into Gajeel Redfox. The dragon-slayer glared at him, arms crossed to highlight his biceps. He didn't have much else than his physical strength, Freed supposed, so he had to show it off.

"Idiot," Gajeel spat at Freed, and Freed nearly scoffed at the hypocrisy of the word. If either of them was an idiot, it was not Freed.

Gajeel was walking into the hall before Freed could retort.

"God, who put a stick up his ass?" Laxus muttered as he shook his head. He looked down to Freed again, looking worried. Perhaps he hadn't believed Freed's assurances as Freed had hoped. "You need to go back? He ain't taking over yet, right?"

"No, I was distracted, that's all," Freed assured him, but none of his team looked happy. "I'm in control of myself. But I've got plans on how to approach the demon should I need them."

"Can we help?" Evergreen asked.

"I'll ask if I need it, but I don't suspect it'll happen," Freed placated them. They were still unconvinced. "You needn't coddle me, I'm fine. Particularly when there's apparently a fifty-fifty chance that the word is ending. Though, I'm putting five hundred jewels on the competition."

Apparently, the mention of gambling, broke the ice.

When they got inside the guildhall, it was more crowded than normal. All the tables on the lower level had been taken, and as such they were forced to climb to the S-Class balcony and sit there. None of them particularly minded that, and they waited for a short while for the rest of their guild mates to file in and settle, drinking and talking as they did so.

Eventually, Makarov walked onto the stage and stood before the crowd of wizards. After a few shouts for them to be quiet, the room fell into silence.

"Thank you all for coming," He began after clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why we're here."

"For you to creep on us," Ever mumbled, and Bickslow snickered.

"Fairy Tail is a guild with its bedrock founded on the principles of friendship. We work so well because we work together. Whereas other guilds maybe have one or two teams, we have many," Makarov explained, gesticulating as he spoke. "It makes me so proud that you've forged these relationships and implemented them into your working lives. Your friendship and love allows you to work together to fight harder and become stronger, side by side as friends. I'm immensely proud of you all, but as of late I've noticed a problem with your work."

He paused, and Freed rolled his eyes. Everything was so dramatic with him.

"While you're very good at working with your own teams, you sometimes struggle working with the guild members you're unfamiliar with," Makarov continued, as if this statement were a tragedy. "And sometimes your teams won't be available, and I don't want you not taking group jobs because your regular team isn't around."

"Starting to think I bet on the wrong side," Bickslow grumbled, taking a drink.

Freed found himself only half listening. Whenever Makarov made an announcement there would be a lot of preamble that Freed didn't particularly care to listen to; not when he had bigger problems to deal with.

Perhaps, if his demon did become more powerful under the moon, he could rune himself into a cage of sorts. That might work, though perhaps physical manacles and shackles might be more practice. His team would be able to help with that, most likely. They wouldn't be happy about it, but Laxus had seen first hand what could happen when the demon was allowed to take over without restraint. He would understand.

No. He was worrying for nothing. The demon was under control now. Besides, he should be listening to his guildmaster.

"So, to broaden your opportunities, I've come up with an idea," Makarov grinned. "For the next week, you'll be split into pairs that you don't normally work with, and you'll spend all of that time training together. These partnerships will be random, and by the end of the week you'll be fighting side by side in a tournament to prove how well you can work together."

Hm, maybe a distraction would work better than restraints. Makarov's idea was flawed to the point of pointlessness, but a week of training might wear his body out to the point his demon wouldn't have the energy to take over.

"And, I'm sure you're all thinking why you should care about this, so there's a prize set up for the team who wins," Makarov was grinning wider now. "Fifty thousand jewels!"

That sent a rush of excitement and talking through the guild. Freed found himself wondering where the money actually came from.

"That's not all. The fights will be ranked on teamwork, cohesion and communication, and at the end of each fight you'll get points based on how well you did," Makarov was running his hands together. "And the team with the least points will have to do a punishment, and the winners decide what it is!"

"Goddamnit," Bickslow mumbled, handing money to Evergreen. "Always about punishments with him."

"If you knew that, then you should have bet smarter," Evergreen laughed.

Freed ignored his friends, leaning back and watching as Mirajane brought out a large, ridiculous top-hat. It wasn't difficult to guess that this was how Makarov intended to randomly choose the teams; pick them out of a hat. Maybe Laxus was right and his grandfather was turning mad, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so Freed had no place to complain.

He would simply drink his beer, watch the chaos unfold, and use the oncoming disaster as a distraction.

——

Gajeel swallowed down his beer with a scowl on his face. When Makarov had called this meeting, he had known that whatever the old crow had to say, it would piss him off. When Makarov had made his announcement, Gajeel had been proven right.

A whole week with some random wizard seemed pointless. Gajeel worked alone, and only teamed up with people when needed. This wasn't going to work.

Fuck, it was such a waste of time! He could be doing jobs and earning his rent instead of fucking around with a stranger, trying to embrace Makarov's ridiculous mantra about the importance of friendship. Or if he wasn't making money, then he would have at least liked to relax and take some time to rest. He didn't want to make a new friend, he wanted to eat, sleep and maybe find a guy to take to bed. None of that would happen with some Fairy Tail mage hanging around his neck.

"Our first team is," Makarov began as he rummaged through the stupid hat he'd had made. "Juvia and Natsu!"

Dammit! Juvia was one of the few people he could have tolerated. The other was the bookworm, and Makarov would probably say them working together wasn't in the spirit of things.

Still. At least the salamander had to work with someone who extinguished his fire. That was funny.

"Kickass!" Natsu yelled into the crowd, standing up and pumping his fist in the air because he lacked self control. "We're gonna dominate!"

They wouldn't.

"If you'd like to meet up and discuss your plans then now's the time," Makarov stated, and Natsu was making his way to Juvia immediately. "And now it's time for the next team up," He reached into the hat again. "It's Evergreen and Lucy."

No loss there. Maybe he and blondie could have been okay, but Gajeel wasn't pissed the chance was gone.

Lucy looked up toward the balcony and waved at Evergreen a little intimidated. Evergreen looked resigned, but after some nudging from Bickslow, made her way down the stairs and started to talk to the woman. Gajeel absentmindedly wondered if the two had ever had a conversation, because they looked awkward around each other; painfully so.

Fuck, that was going to be him, wasnt it?

Maybe he could convince whoever he was paired up with to lie and say they trained when they just spend the week alone. But then there was the tournament, and the threat of some random punishment, and Gajeel had already been humiliated after losing the guild-wide race and having to dress like an idiot; it wasn't happening again if he could help it.

"Next up," Makarov reached into the hat again. "Bickslow and Gray."

"Fuck yeah, some eye candy at last!" Bickslow yelled, and people laughed. Gajeel rolled his eyes, watching as Bickslow leant over the banister and looked towards his teammate. "Wanna make a deal, every time you strip, I strip."

Gajeel could see Gray avert his gaze as if bored, but he was red in the cheeks. They were even redder when Bickslow tossed his shirt towards him, both men now partially stripped.

Well, at least he wasn't with that idiot. The two of them would be a mess.

Many other teams were announced, and Gajeel found himself more and more annoyed each time. The partnerships made no sense, most of the time their magics wouldn't compliment each other, and Gajeel knew that it would end in disaster. At best, half of the partnerships might end up having a fight with each other, and at worst people would get hurt because they just didn't work. How the hell did Makarov think this was going to work out?

Maybe Gajeel should have slunk out and not attended the meeting. He was running out of money for rent, and his landlord was a bastard just waiting to kick him out, so it made sense for him to get a job. Maybe if he left now he could avoid it altogether.

"And next we've got Gajeel," Makarov shouted, and Gajeel cursed. "And Freed."

Oh fuck no. Absolutely fucking not!

Gajeel was not working with that stuck up prick. A guy like that had clearly never worked a day in his life, probably grew up in a fancy ass house and only got into guild work because it was a trend to slum it with the other wizards. Everything about Freed - holier than thou - Justine screamed pampered brat. He would probably throw a fit if he got dirt under his fingernails. He was the damn opposite of a man like Gajeel, and he knew he'd struggle not to murder the spoiled shit before the week was over.

Could he even defend himself? He had magic, but as far as Gajeel knew, that only worked when he had time to prepare. Hardly practical in the heat of battle, and what would he do without it? He wouldn't have the balls to use his sword as a weapon, Gajeel was pretty sure of that, and he looked like a gust of wind could take him out.

Fucking dammit. The salamander was better than this!

He damn near walked out of the guildhall then and there, because he couldn't deal with an egomaniac freak for a week. But, as he went to move, he saw the egomaniac freak walking towards him, and he was not going to allow Freed to think he was running away. He turned in his chair to meet the man's gaze but didn't make a move towards him. Freed could come to him, not the other way around.

Soon, Freed was in his space, standing above him. His expression was as unimpressed with the situation as Gajeel felt. At least they could agree on one thing.

He looked up to meet the mans gaze. Freed was… taller than he thought.

"I think it's fair to assume neither of us want to do this," Freed said rather than greeting him. Gajeel was right, he was a dick. "And I expect that the way I train myself won't be the same way you do, so likely there's a chance we'll come to blows, so I have a proposition."

Huh, maybe Freed was gonna suggest they lie and only pretend to train together. Gajeel would agree, but make Freed squirm first. "Yeah?"

"If we went somewhere and tried to train how we both normally do, it would be an act of futility," Freed explained. "We have six days to work together. I propose that for the first three days we train however I wish, and you follow my instructions. For the latter three days, we train however you wish and I will follow your instructions. That way, we both get three days of training ourselves in a way we know works, and the week won't be a waste of time entirely."

Huh.

That wasn't what Gajeel had thought, but he could deal with it. He had to admit, trying to find a way that would work for them both would not work, so this meant he'd at least have three days to improve himself.

"Fine," He grunted. "But I wanna go first. You're gonna drag me to some library or something like that, and that's a waste of time. Might as well make it a rest day after some actual working out."

Freed sighed, as if dealing with a child, and Gajeel nearly kicked him in the balls. "If you insist,"

"I do."

"Well then, I'll see you on Monday."

"Guess ya will."

That was it, and Freed turned to go back to his table. Gajeel emptied his drink, then grinned. Three days where the asshole had to do as he said; that was interesting. Freed probably spent his life being pampered and spoiled, but not with Gajeel. Nah, he was gonna work. Gajeel was gonna put Freed through hell and love every damn second of it.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #gajeel redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #Canon Divergent #Multi Chapter #Chapter One #Word Count: 2.75k

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

I've been so excited to write for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang 2021 (go check out other amazing fics and art in the collection at @mysme-rbb), and it's the first fanfic/art event I've participated in! @madiebelleadventures and I teamed up to brainstorm this beast, so her art is at the very end (because I ain't spoilin nothin)!

-

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: One day after the end of a work week, Vanderwood surprises MC with some husband-wife baking time—with a twist. Inspired by his agent training, he suggests that they bake as a team but have MC blindfolded. In order to make a cake that's actually edible, she must follow his directions to the letter. All that's left after that is chaos, banter, and spouse-flustering. And figuring out how to actually make a cake.

A/N: Fyi MC is definitely more of her own character than a reader-insert on this one. Also as per usual with me, I headcanon Vanderwood as British, so I tried heavily to align his phrasing accordingly, despite being an American myself. Enjoy seeing exactly how much fluff I can possibly cram into 5k words!

MC sighed happily at the feeling of the wind in her hair as she drove home from work one Friday evening. Windows down, jacket off, music blasting—the air itself felt like freedom. She had nothing against her job—in fact, she enjoyed it for the most part. She prided herself in a job well done, she liked being able to manage a team of her own, and the paycheck and benefits were good. Nothing extravagant, of course, but enough to comfortably support a couple newlyweds.

And that was the real reason MC nearly jumped out the door every day when everything wrapped up at the office. Who wouldn't, with a husband as unfairly hot as Vanderwood? Completely unfair how he could make leopard print and what was practically a mullet actually look attractive. Thank goodness his fashion sense had mellowed out over time, if only a little bit. With Vanderwood's past being what it was, they had mutually come to the conclusion that it would be best for their well-being if he stayed at their apartment during the day to keep the household running. He was very particular about how he cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, and he handled their finances conscientiously and precisely. Admittedly, she did have to occasionally remind him that as sleek as that new top-of-the-line taser was, there was no real need for it, but that was just part of her husband's charm.

And boy, was he charming.

She truly couldn't wait to get home, past this rush hour traffic. She'd get home and be pulled in for a deep kiss moments after walking in the door. Maybe he'd slip a gentle but insistent hand into her hair. Maybe they'd take it a little further. Or a lot further.

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???"

MC swerved to avoid a collision and waited for her heartbeat to settle down again. There was no freaking way she was going to die in some stupid car wreck before their date tonight. A surprise, he'd said. No matter how hard she'd tried to weasel more out of him, he wouldn’t bend. Darn agent training. Good thing it wouldn't be a surprise for much longer. Within minutes, the streets got smaller and quieter as she neared her apartment building. Another minute, and she flung open the apartment door and leapt on her husband.

MC's fantasies were soon replaced by an even better reality when Vanderwood's lips landed on hers. Kissing back enthusiastically, MC wrapped her arms around his middle so tight that a less sturdy man would be coughing for air. Vanderwood snatched her keys and purse and hung them by the doorway, never breaking his focus for a second. His kisses grew slower, but no less fervent, as he smoothed her wind-strewn hair. Eventually, their lips reluctantly parted, and MC broke the silence.

"How did I manage to snag the best kisser on earth on top of marrying the most insanely attractive man on earth?"

Vanderwood smirked. "Good taste, I guess." He kissed her once more soundly for good measure.

"Maybe. Will my insanely attractive husband tell me what our surprise date is now?"

"Perhaps."

"No perhapses! I've been dying waiting!"

"Very well. Start by changing your clothes, because I am not scrubbing stains out of your good work clothes."

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

MC went to the bedroom and took stock of her clothing options. She had to choose something practical that could be easily washed, but she still wanted to look a little cute. After all, it was a date. It was a tough balance to strike. Eh, she could always stick an apron or an old shirt over it. She grabbed her oversized paint shirt just in case before snagging a light pink shirt. Now for the bottoms. She debated on a simple skirt, but decided to go for it. After all, if it didn't fit with Vanderwood's plans, he would tell her. MC changed quickly and weaved her hair into a side braid, slipping a tendril out on each side to frame her face. Mirror-MC nodded in approval. Time to see what on earth her husband had been planning.

She cracked open the door and peeked through before skipping over to Vanderwood, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. His amber eyes widened in interest.

"You have no business looking this pretty for a baking date."

MC grinned. "Ha! I did get it out of you! A baking date sounds cute. What made you think of that? Are you just really getting into the whole house husband gig?"

"It was my agent training, actually." Seeing the puzzled look on his wife's face, Vanderwood continued, "There's a bit of a twist to it, you see. I will hardly be doing any of the actual baking. You, my dear, on the other hand, will be completely blindfolded. You will have to follow my instructions explicitly, or else the result will be completely inedible."

"I still fail to see how the setup doesn't sound like 'that kind of date', but it sounds like fun! What does this have to do with your agent training, though?"

"Various exercises used similar techniques. Many times in the field, we had to follow orders to the letter with no questions asked if we wanted to make it out in one piece. We also did training to be able to operate blindly or in the dark if our vision was compromised. But none of it was as enjoyable as watching a beautiful woman bake a cake by pure trust."

"You're such a flatterer. Keep it coming," MC smirked.

"At least get into the kitchen first," Vanderwood said, handing her a blindfold that looked suspiciously like his nap mask.

"Okay, but if you don't want me in the kitchen until I'm blindfolded, you're gonna have to get my apron yourself."

"I thought I was the one giving out orders tonight?"

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you." He stepped into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with the apron. MC slipped it on and, after ducking briefly into the bathroom to wash her hands, covered her eyes with the blindfold.

"I'm at your mercy now. Don't abuse that privilege."

He materialized behind her, winding his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured into her ear before attacking her stomach. MC burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I swear—!" she giggled "—I swear I'm going to punch the living daylights out of you!"

"You're certainly welcome to try. You know I wouldn't even feel it."

"But I could try. How am I supposed to trust you to give me decent directions to bake whatever the heck we're making if I can't even trust you not to tickle me?"

"You don't. That's the thrill of it."

"You'd better have me make something actually edible for all our trouble."

"That all depends on how well you follow my instructions."

"And how decent your instructions are. Let's not forget that tiny detail," she reminded.

"Hmm, we'll see," The smile was evident in his voice. "Now if we're going to start, we need to go ahead and do it."

"Probably."

He guided MC by her upper arms into the narrow kitchen.

"Fortunately," he said, halting and holding her in place, "we're only baking a cake and not an entire meal, so it won't take an eternity."

"I sure hope not! It's pizza night and I'm already a little hungry!"

He wound his hands around his wife's waist, lightly patting her stomach. "Well, the faster we start, the faster we can eat. I've already laid everything out for you as best I can, so you just have to follow my directions, all right, love?"

"Got it."

"All right, can you feel the worktop?" A nod. "Raise your right hand just a bit...and over…now grab the box with the cake mix, because heaven knows neither of us knows or cares enough to make it from scratch. Got it? Now open it up. The mixing bowl is straight to the left. Go ahead and pour it in."

"Just so you know, if I spill anything, you're the one taking responsibility."

"And why is that, darling?" Vanderwood asked, feigning shock.

"Because you're the one who had this idea in the first place! Not to mention if I make a mess it’s because of your faulty directions."

Unfortunately, MC failed to prove her point, pouring the mix into the bowl and barely spilling a few crumbs.

"Looks like we may not have to worry about that," Vanderwood smirked.

"You have met me, right? You know something's going to get spilled, right?"

Ignoring her, he moved the empty box toward the back and continued, "The milk should be right around where the cake mix was, if you can remember where you just were. The measuring jug is right next to it. Do you think you can pour it in correctly?"

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"There you go. Just try to take it slowly, just in case, and stop when I say so."

MC obeyed, gradually tilting the milk jug until a thin stream hit the center of the measuring cup.

"Brilliant! Now careful, careful, slightly to the left...that's it! Now slow down...almost done...stop!" He kissed her cheek. "That was amazing. Now pour it into the bowl."

MC felt around for the mixing bowl again. She managed to find it and poured in the milk. "Where's the cap for the milk jug?"

"Hm...where did it go? Oh, there it is. Right by the sink."

She batted at the air around her right side to find the inside of the sink. Instead, her hand bumped the side of the milk jug. Vanderwood's hand shot out to catch it, but a small puddle had already sloshed onto the counter. MC's hand shot up to take off the blindfold, but Vanderwood caught her wrist first. She sighed.

"Vandy, give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. I caught it before much got out. Stay put for a moment while I wipe it up so it doesn't start to smell or dry up."

"Not to say I told you, but I definitely told you."

Her husband stuck out his tongue at her—one of the few ways he had begun to let himself be childish lately. Then the obvious dawned on him. "I'm sticking out my tongue. I thought you ought to know that."

"Crucial information. Are you done yet?"

"Yep. You ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

"Isn't that expected in all this?"

"That's probably a large part of why you demanded an apron first, yes."

"You would be right about that, also yes. And you're so dramatic. I did not demand."

"Up to interpretation. Reach up to the left of the mixing bowl and just grab it off the plate and toss it in."

As instructed, MC reached over and let out a tiny shriek when her hand came into contact with the soft butter. Vanderwood guffawed.

"I was waiting for that."

MC gasped. "You did this on purpose!" She flung the butter into the bowl with an extra dash of vindictiveness.

"Maybe so. I like hearing your reactions," he purred.

"Don't try to be all smooth when you're being a twit. It doesn't suit you," MC sniffed, then muttered under her breath, "actually it totally works for you but it doesn't make me less ticked at you."

"By the way, don't bother trying to wash your hands just yet. The next part is probably going to be the messiest. I'll go get the bin so it'll be close by for you."

"Appreciated. What's the next part?"

"Eggs."

"Yikes, okay. That's why I needed the trash can, then. And where are the eggs?"

"To your left. You're going to need four of them. I read somewhere that adding an extra egg makes it better, hypothetically."

"You're the one giving the instructions."

"Alright, the bin is to your left, whenever you're ready."

"I could hear the thunk when you set it down, but thank you," MC said wryly.

"I live to serve."

There was silence for a moment as MC cracked the first egg into the bowl, and a soft smile rose on her face like the dawn. "Not anymore, you don't. I thank God every day that you and Saeyoung were able to free yourselves from the agency. I never could have forgotten you even if you hadn't, but I never would have known the immense joy I've gotten to have by being your wife." She sniffed, then laughed. "Sorry for being so sentimental all of a sudden, I don't know what got into me. It's just that knowing how many things could have gotten between us makes me that much more grateful for what we have."

"Ah!" Vanderwood shot a hand out to correct the second egg's trajectory into the mixing bowl.

"Oops, thank you."

"No problem, love. We're a team." He settled against her back, rubbing her arms lightly and placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "And never feel sorry for your so-called sentimentality. In fact, I really think you hold back sometimes. You shouldn't. I know that I used to scoff at these things, but locking out your emotions for job after job really takes a toll on a man. The agency had no room for love of any sort, and I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" He smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

She cracked the third egg into the bowl and threw out the shell. "I always knew you could be a softie, very deep down. I'm just glad that I get to be the one to see it."

After the fourth egg was in the bowl, Vanderwood directed, "Okay, time to wash up. The next thing is mixing for two minutes. While I love you, I do not trust you to use an electric mixer while blindfolded, so you're going to use a whisk for that job."

"I suppose that's fair. Can you put away the trash can while I wash my hands?"

"Already on it."

"Where's the whisk, again?"

"I kind of put it toward the back, so either be careful or wait for me to move a few things."

"Oh, I've got it. Don't worry," MC waved a hand in dismissal and groped around for the whisk, but her arm was a bit too low, and she dipped her clothed elbow in the plate where the butter had been. She sighed. "What did I just decorate my elbow with?"

"Butter. Try it. It might be tasty," he teased.

"Come on, Vandy, this is not the time. Help me get it off before it soaks in too much."

"Alright, alright, I just had to pick on you a little bit for not listening to me." He carefully scooped off the top layer of the butter with a paper towel before trying to absorb the rest. "I'm going to roll up your sleeves a bit more so that this hopefully won't happen again."

"Well, not until I slosh half the cake out of this bowl trying and failing to mix it."

"You'll be fine. Just stick to mixing the center and bringing the outside of it toward the center so everything gets mixed. But mix it well and mix it fast. The timer starts...now!"

MC held the bowl against her stomach to steady it while she mixed the batter vigorously. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to mix furiously while keeping it all in the bowl on top of being blindfolded!"

"Calm down, you're doing great. A couple drips, maybe, but it's staying in."

"So far, anyway. But that's good, I guess."

"No guessing. It's quite good." Vanderwood leaned against the counter. "We've got a minute and a half to kill. Should I spend it telling you how you look right now?"

"Oh gosh, do I even want to know?"

He shook his head in near disbelief, smiling. "Magnetic. Adorable. More delicious than the cake we're making."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful. Is every single hair of yours in place? No. But they fall around your face in the most delicately beautiful way. Even the places where the ingredients got smudged on you somehow add to your charm." He leaned in so that his lips touched her ear, his voice lowering to a gravelly timbre. "Did you know that your cheeks are all rosy from the effort you're putting into stirring? It's unbelievably attractive. And the way your lips press together when you're concentrating? It makes me want to kiss them apart. In fact—"

"Vanderwood, how much time is left?" MC interrupted, suppressing a vivid blush and a shiver.

"Our entire lives," he said, happily ignoring the real question.

"The timer, Vanderwood. How much is left on the timer?"

The sound of the timer going off answered the question for him. "None," he grinned. "I'll go spray the cake pan while you rest for a moment. You've earned it."

She exhaled, set the mixing bowl aside, and stretched. Then a thought made her panic. "Vandy, we forgot to preheat the oven."

He held her face in his hands. "MC. Darling. Breathe. I set the oven when I grabbed the apron."

Her breathing gradually slowed. "Sorry, love. I'm just really hungry and kind of tired and I think not being able to see is doing weird things to my brain and you kind of flustered me a minute ago with what you were saying and I'm sorry, I—" her voice cracked, but Vanderwood cut her off and held her close.

"Hey...hey...you're alright. There's nothing to be sorry about. I kept you going after a long day of work without feeding you first. I should have known better." He smoothed her hair and tucked it into her braid. "I'll tell you what. How about we get this cake in the oven and then order some pizza and watch another episode of Cucumber Fish?"

MC sniffled and hummed in agreement. Vanderwood loosened his hold around her and gently brought her hands to the bowl again before grabbing the cake pan. "Okay, all you've got to do now is pour it into the pan that I've put just to the left of the bowl. Just take it nice and easy. There you go. Perfect. You're almost done. Now let me get a spatula to scoop the last of it out." After he finished, he slid the cake pan into the oven and started the timer. "There. All done." He slipped the mask off her eyes and gave her a peck on the lips as she blinked to adjust to the light. "I'll clean all this up, alright? Go ahead and relax on the sofa. You can order the pizza and get Cucumber Fish queued up while I finish up in here."

"Okay," she murmured. Another peck, and she curled up on the couch. She pulled out her phone to order the pizza and smiled at the notifications she'd gotten from the RFA chatroom. They were up to their normal antics again. Hopefully, Saeyoung wouldn't exasperate Saeran too much with his crazy propositions. But there was nothing she could do about that, and she was starving and in desperate need of pizza. Once it was ordered, she turned on the TV and selected the episode, making sure to let it run past the ads before pausing it.

After Vanderwood joined her on the couch, the next forty-five minutes was filled with lots of cuddling and pizza devouring, more kissing than watching the show, a few glances at the cake's progress, an agreement to actually watch the episode while they ate the cake, and several minutes of cooling time after the cake was removed from the oven. Vanderwood emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes of setting up to decorate.

"Are you sure you want to put on the mask again?" he asked. "I don't want it to mess with your head like it did last time."

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm pretty sure it was like that last time just because I was starving."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Go ahead and get them on, then," he said, handing MC the apron and mask.

"Just make sure to lead me into the kitchen again."

"Hmm, we'll see."

"We'll see?" she repeated, but shrieked soon after when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet. Vanderwood had scooped her up to carry her into the kitchen bridal-style and sank his lips against hers with intentionality. He bumped into the counter but managed to avoid any damage to his wife. He deposited one last kiss on her lips before setting her down.

"What have you done to me, woman? Years and years of agent skills, undone in a moment. If it were anything or anyone else, I never would have bumped into that worktop. But when it's you kissing me, you're the only thing that exists." He grinned. "It's a shame, really. I thought my dexterity was an impressive skill, but I don't even have that anymore, it seems."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead. She made a face, causing Vanderwood to laugh.

"Well, at least I still have the ability to order you around." MC smacked him in response, and he continued, "Alright, alright, let's get to it then. This is where it'll get really interesting, since decorating requires more precision. Which, no offense, is a skill you don't have, since you're not exactly used to being blind."

"Now wait just a—okay, I can't argue that," MC sighed. He placed a spatula in one hand and a jar of frosting in her other.

"Turn around. Can you find where the cake is?"

"Ye—wait, Vandy! I thought you said you cleaned up!"

"I did…sort of." Before she could protest, he interjected, "I wiped the worktop! I just pushed all the dishes to one side so we could put all of it in the dishwasher at once when we were done!" He added with a mumble, "I just wanted to get back to you."

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right." She squared up as best she could with a frosting jar in hand. "I found the cake. I'll try to do my best."

"Well, in this part, I won't let you go completely solo. I can rotate the cake for you as you go, if you want."

"Please."

MC scooped a large helping of frosting from the jar and started spreading around the perimeter. Her spatula made a slight detour for a moment to donate some frosting to the top of the cake, and Vanderwood halted and reversed his rotation slightly to avoid confusion. A few seconds later, she went for another, slightly smaller, scoop to finish frosting the circumference of the cake. Another scoop, added to the deposit from the first, finished off the top.

"Is there a big corner around the top edge? Or any dry spots?" she asked.

"Just a slight corner. Grab a little bit more frosting to round it off a bit and thicken the top."

She did as directed while he helped rotate, and stepped back. "Better?"

"Much better. Maybe we can add a little artistic touch by making some...what do you call them? Swoops? Around the sides from the top?"

"Sounds great. You're definitely going to have to help me, though."

"Alright, I'll rotate again and stop you when you're done. Then you can smooth off the top edge again quick."

Six slightly lopsided arcs later, he stepped back for a moment, observing. "This is certainly not the prettiest cake I've seen, but it all adds to the fun, yeah?"

"I guess," she laughed.

"Now here's the part that'll really get a laugh when you take off the blindfold. I've got a bowl over here with some frosting for smaller decorating, and you get to pick the food coloring that goes in it."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," he snickered while guiding her over to a trio of colored bottles that she couldn't discern. "Take your pick," he said cheerily. MC gingerly selected one, and he suppressed a snort poorly. "Excellent choice!"

MC groaned. "I'm going to regret all my life choices, aren't I?"

"Of course not! Only your decision to marry me."

"Hey." She squeezed his wrist. "I could never regret that."

"You might reevaluate that statement when you take off the blindfold and see the cake. Or at least my ugly mug."

"Vanderwood. Don't you even start with me. You're so hot that if we were working with chocolate instead of a cake, we wouldn't need the microwave to melt it."

"You're so hot that the beach would need sunblock instead of you."

"You're so hot that the sun goes to you when it needs to warm up."

They collapsed against each other, gasping for air. Vanderwood caught his breath first. "Let's get this food coloring in the bowl, shall we? The spoon and frosting are already in it. All you have to do is put a few drops in and stir until I say so. The bowl's on your left."

"As you wish," she said as she did so.

After a few moments, he spoke. "That's enough. Let me get you back over to the cake, and I'll get the frosting in the decorating bag. Which is really just an ordinary plastic bag, but I did pick up some cheap decorating tips when I got the ingredients."

"Splendid. How am I going to decorate, though? Even if I could see, I don't know the first thing about cake decorating. Oh yeah, and I can't see."

"Don't get your 'panties in a bunch,' as you like to tell me so often. I'll do it with you this time."

"But you don't know how to decorate cakes, either!"

"Ah-ah-ah!” he chided. “Do you trust me or not?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey!"

"But! We should just go ahead and do it anyway, because even though neither of us knows what we're doing, we're the only ones in this apartment who can. And the frosting smells too good not to eat soon."

"That's my girl." Vanderwood curled around her. He molded one hand around hers and slid the other over her stomach. As they formed a few swirls on the top, he murmured, "We did this whole thing together. How impressive is that? Was it as fun for you as it was for me?"

MC smiled. "Of course it was. I know I got a little hangry for a bit there, but I know how much thought you put into this. None of my old deadbeat ex-boyfriends ever would have cared so much, let alone shown it. These are the things that make me love you that much more."

"I never experienced any permanent love until you showed it to me. And it's been so...world-altering—that I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. I still can't. But I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to give you the same love you've given me. I certainly don't deserve it, after the things I've done. But you do. You deserve all the happiness a person can have."

MC paused and blushed slightly. "Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy. I love the kind of man you've become. I've seen you strive every day to be better than you were the day before, and that is so inspiring."

"Well, whether or not I deserve happiness, I would choose to be happy every day if my being happy made you happy." He squeezed her hip affectionately and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"It would." She kissed him back. They added one last swirl and a border before they set down the bag of frosting. He uncurled her fingers and fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Are you ready to see it?"

"Sure."

He slipped off the blindfold, and she gasped.

"What have we done?" she exclaimed as her laughing grew louder by the second.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Vanderwood asked, feigning ignorance.

"The cake is bright flaming orange, Vandy!" She let out a snort, then covered her face. "Hey, wait! All the food coloring was the same color too, you little twit!"

He shrugged innocently. MC sputtered. "Nuh-uh. Don't you shrug at me, mister. Saeyoung has rubbed off on you way too much."

"Has not."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe the tiniest bit."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. Now are you as ready as I am to eat this cake and watch Cucumber Fish?"

"Let me take a picture first. And another one with you in it? You look so lovely, I can't not have one with you in it."

She tried desperately to keep a frown on her face as he snapped a picture but couldn't quite hold back the quirk at the corner of her mouth. He cut a slice for each of them and handed one to her. He curled the paper plate around his slice, and she did likewise. They looked each other in the eyes, both knowing exactly what would come next. Vanderwood solidified his stance. "Ready...steady...GO!" The couple raced to the living room and took a running jump onto the couch, ready for the wonderful night ahead.

#mysmerbb #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #my writing #my fic #mysme fic #collab #art collab

[ofmsfortune]

"Love is not for me. That's what I've been thinking to myself for most of my life. And back when you left, I was reassured that it was true. But my life could not return to the way it was. Those lingering thoughts, the persistent emotions, as if some kind of all-consuming fire was burning in my head and in my heart. But the ash did not come. And then I realized, that maybe, this time I actually wanted to be wrong all along."

for freya, it had been a flood. all emotions she had ever felt had been water or droughts. love had been a mighty wave that had come and had swept away all she had thought to know. some of the things that had been swallowed by this wave she had been glad to see disappear, other things had terrified her. what once had been a curse — your wretched heart cannot love! — had become something of a blessing in disguise, though she doubted that her mother had ever wanted for her words to stop hurting. still, there had been comfort in the knowledge that she would never trap herself, that she would never love someone.

she had seen love hurt others. she had hurt when her father, when her brothers had died. but — she had thought that with those last connections to the life she had left behind gone, she would never have to hurt again.

she had been wrong. she had been very, very wrong.

‘‘ neither could i return to who i was, before. ’’ she halted, remembering something she had read somewhere, once — if you were still the same person after you loved, you had not loved enough — and almost, she would have shuddered.

change, growth — whatever one might prefer to call it — always came at a price. she had seen the price be paid many, many times. usually, it had been blood, in one shape or another. tears were common, too. rarely smiles. perhaps it made her a coward that she did not relish in chaos, that she preferred structures and other ways to give something overwhelmingly grand form.

for a moment, she did not continue and focused on anything but dylan to sort out her thoughts. there was fliante, strolling into the living-room from the kitchen, throwing her a curious glance before wandering downstairs. then, there were the voices that were carried up from the street below, balancing on the thin line between boisterous joy and mere noise. alas, neither her cat nor an anonymous crowd could draw her mind away from dylan for long. this was a fact she knew well, a fact she had tested many, many times throughout the years.

( not recently, however. )

propping up her chin against her hand, she sighed quietly as she let her gaze linger on him. there were truths that did not require to be said now, not after they had been said before. she did not have to say that years of aloneness  ( it had been neither solitude nor loneliness, had been something she did not have words for )  had made her an ugly thing with too many teeth, with too many jagged edges that demanded payment in blood. some said that hearts were monsters and that this was the reason why ribs formed cages.

and truthfully — she did not think anyone could live as long as she had and not grow sharper teeth with every year. claws could be filed down, could be hidden in silken and velvet gloves, but as soon as the words came spilling forth, the teeth were in plain sight. she had been proud — dangerously proud — of her fangs, of how they could crumble castles as if they were made of cards and dreams. she had deluded herself into believing that she could do something meant that she should do it.

there were thoughts she did not allow herself to think, but it was a fact that she had always known better. after all — had she not looked at frédéric and recognised that he was a lighthouse where she was a will-o’-wisp? she could not claim ignorance; she had acted against better knowledge and this was what she could never wash away.

looking at her fingers, splayed out on her leg, she bent them slowly before tapping gently against her knee. ‘‘ it was as if i had grown something, only to lose it, ’’ she muttered as she lifted her head again, a wry smile tugging on her face. ‘‘ i thought i was all right, without a heart. ’’ 

or at least safe.

although he was likely bar hopping with his friends right now, she could almost hear frédéric groan at her thoughts; unlike her, he was not the type to cling to safety, to prefer a status quo that she controlled over anything she would not have any say in. they had been in disagreement over what was preferable for the last two centuries and she did not think they would come to see eye-to-eye in this one, though she was slightly more inclined to see his point these days.

‘‘ do you regret it? ’’ she asked slowly as she idly tugged on loose thread, the facade of casualness paper thin and a mere formality. she doubted that his regrets — if he had them — outweighed other emotions; otherwise, he would not be sitting in her living-room.still, she could not shake her fascination. matchstick fingers and paper hearts never mixed well, but — here they were. again. ‘‘ do you regret still being on fire? ’’

the audible shudder in her voice was not intended as she drew breath, putting the thoughts that swarmed her mind into words. as so often, she dreaded his answer as much as she anticipated it, balancing on a thin line as she hoped that she would never grow tired of this dance. that she would never grow tired of dylan.

she tucked a strand of hair back, her grin almost shy. ‘‘ i got used to always drowning a little bit in love, ’’ she admitted as she shrugged. what can you do? her body language seemed to ask and it was a question she asked herself, too. she would never have guessed that there might be a time when she would happily welcome something she could never hope to control in her life and yet, here she was. content to keep her head above water instead of trying to change the tide.

#rottenxleaves #MAIN: ARC II ▌ ♛ ❝ RISING FROM GOLDEN RUINS‚ SAILING TO NEW SHORES. #IN CHARACTER ▌ ♛ ❝ HER MOUTH‚ MORE PLEASING THAN ROSE PETALS.

[stfredsa]

gm i’m thinking about the fact that every time fred smiles apologetically and says ‘ i’m a mess ‘ she’s really repeating something jimmy would say to her over and over in order to make her feel small and needing of his protection and she does it now because hey guess what she does feel small and weak and if she says she’s a mess herself then nobody else will get to point it out bc nobody else will ever see how broken she is the way she herself sees it <3

#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #abuse / #gm i am fucking crying <3

[stfredsa]

this warrants a longer meta i have no intention to get into right now but just so i don’t forget —— i’m starting to realize the way fred loves ( romantically ) is really kind of unhealthy. it’s never abusive of her partner, it’s rather self-abusive in a way. not to quote my spiritual guide florence, but she really does not know how to love with moderation — she annihilates herself for her lover, cancels herself if needed, and she doesn’t change for her lover but she can only truly be herself when she’s being loved hard. which means that if a story ends, if her lover leaves, that’s close to destruction for her. it’s also weird in the sense that she gives literally all of herself but doesn’t ask for much in return and yet somehow what she does ask for is somehow never enough so —— i guess true happiness for her can only truly be achieved with people who can take care of her and prevent her from, well, destroying herself for love in a way. people who can sort of “ force ” her to look after herself, too. 

#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos.

[stfredsa]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

EVERYTHING ——  i know you because i am you. love is everything to you and you're trying so hard to find it in every part of your life; you've refused to let yourself be blinded by apathy and cynicism and in its own way, that's a form of love. you're trying to make everything love and i hope you never stop doing that, but sometimes we can't make everything into love - being treated unfairly, feeling unheard and unseen, having your words twisted - those things aren't love, please don't try to make them feel like they are. you have so much love inside you and learning to express that externally is hard, but i'm proud of you and i hope you take care of yourself. you create love wherever you go, i hope you give that love to yourself too.

tagged: stolen from @theimpalpable​ ( ♥ ) tagging: @asynjja​ / @indizien​, @kalixus​ / @demottcm​, @urobouris​, @hellregis​, @redruined​ / @holyfailed​, @omends​ / @astralradio​, @hammurabicomplex​, @carelessgraces​, @maderesilient​, @pcrish​, @amelorates​ + everyone who wants to do this!

#DASH GAMES —— i'm the hero of the story. #FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #this is sending me #this is sending me so hard #'those things aren't love #yeah fucking tell her #god i love this i am feeling this #'you have so much love inside of you' i just #keep getting fucked up over #themes of love / kindness / the heart #being the core themes of fred #bc it was nothing i planned #it was never meant to be that #the main theme was gonna be survival or just #stitching yourself back together after you've been pulled apart #and now i see that it was just a consequence #of a heart so loud and strong it just refuses to give in #i love this i love this i love this #if fred's gonna find the strength to move past her trauma #and allow herself a ending she herself writes #it's not gonna be bc she gives in to anger #but because she learns to listen to her heart #and gives in to love #i am ascendin

[stfredsa]

ok this is a night for realizing things but just. 

while it’s OBVIOUS that fred’s best relationships / loves throughout her verses are ( they kind of have to be ) the exact opposite of what her dynamic with jimmy was, it’s kind of really blatant on a structural level when you think about the fact that jimmy FED into her unhealthy habit of serving, annihilating herself for others, to the point where her giving her everything still wasn’t enough and there was simply no way to make him satisfied —— it was a fight she would lose over and over again, and yet she would keep giving away bits of herself until, by the end of it, she was barely a shadow of who she used to be. whereas the partners she has / has had throughout her verses ( the ships i’m mainly thinking abt rn are kalix/fred, tom/fred, vince/fred although tangentially it also involves moafred — but really this applies to every ship w fred one way or another ) who have truly loved her have easily recognized this as unhealthy behavior on her part and have either tried to counter-act her instinct ( providing for her when she couldn’t provide for herself ) or pushed her to care for herself a little better.

and it’s! blatant in a lot of ways but it becomes absurdly clear when it comes to FOOD —— this is a bigger headcanon i’m gonna have to write but basically fred’s refusal to cook / learn to cook all comes down to jimmy demanding food be cooked for him and when fred failed to deliver ( she simply did not have the patience or the skill ) he’d find a new excuse to lash out and rain hell over her, hence why she dreads cooking so much now. and yet the people who have loved her the most throughout her verses, and this has been discussed through actual headcanons, have made food an important element of their dynamic, either cooking for her or bringing her food or taking the time to teach her how to sustain herself in a way, and i —— had no idea food, of all things, could be such a fundamental symbol of fred’s rebirth through love but holy shit, it is.

#HC —— sometimes i feel like an inland ocean. #FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #screaming @ myself no BIGGIE #i just ! it makes so much sense. so much makes so much sense now. #and i know a big part of feminist empowerment should be about #finding the strength to rise above your trauma within yourself #but i think that's just not for fred #her strength is in realizing she needs people and she needs love #and she can't make it on her own simply #neways i am just #a little shook rn #abuse / #domestic abuse / #food / #eating disorder / #not really ! but just to be safe. #ask to tag /

[stfredsa]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

saffron, juniper berries, bitter almond, myrrh. everything you touch is electric, you close your eyes and can feel the heartbeats of everyone around you. they slow down as you take a deep breath, and you float over to something that briefly caught your eye.

TAGGED BY: @asynjja​, @kalixus​ ( love u nerds ) and a bunch of other peeps ( i love u all ). TAGGING: you!

#DASH GAMES —— i'm the hero of the story. #FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #listen i'm not really feeling this #i took it twice bc there were some qs i wasn't sure of #and i didn't like the result #but i got the same one lmfao #I SHOULD'VE KNOW she'd get moa's one #idiots i lov them

[stfredsa]

anyway if fred loves you but like really loves you she’s gonna call you DARLIN’ with that sweet lil texan drawl and idk  would you not die ? i would so die

#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #disgusting this is disgusting

[stfredsa]

anyway it’s been a night of realizations off-tumblr re: fred and who she really is at her core and i’ve been shaking a little with the realization that that part of herself fred continues grieving ( the way she was before victor, so: reckless, brave, strong enough to move mountains, ready to fight anyone and anything that harmed her loved ones, a warrior through and through ) has been buried deep within her but it’s STILL THERE and love, true love, love at a soulmate level is the only key to access it, the only way she can ever dig that part of her back up again ( yeah i’m talking about kal/ilias and i’m talking about moa here, on different levels. ilias brings out the strength, moa brings out the joy. ilias brings out the protectiveness, moa brings out the recklessness. i will elaborate more on these 2 specific parallels in a while, just let them process a little ).

#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #idk why this is fucking me up so badly but it is like i just #truly love is the core theme of who she is #and what she's done #and i need to re-examine all her story in light of this i'm just legit #close to crying #aa i just. love her so much i love her so fucking much.

[stfredsa]

𝐇𝐂 —— 𝐏𝐓𝐒𝐃 ( or: outside / inside scars ).

TW : domestic abuse , domestic violence , choking , gaslighting , ptsd . what follows is a more or less thorough rundown of fred’s post-traumatic stress disorder. because it’s loaded with triggers, most of it is placed under a read more for everyone’s safety. it’s not a clinical description of ptsd, obviously, but it’s a deeper insight in fred’s character and inner monologue, for sure.

      “ every morning i wake up       from a dream of you holding me       —— underwater.       is it a dream       or a memory? ”

freddie still carries the signs of jimmy’s ( and not just his ) ABUSE — if anyone were ever allowed to see them, she’d smile apologetically and call them BATTLE SCARS. a mark inside her right forearm, from when he snuffed a cigarette out on her skin. a cut across the left side of her cleavage, when he was playing with a pocket knife once, and lost his patience on her. you could call her body a MAP of her suffering, though it doesn’t quite cut it — ‘suffering’ sounds like a passive action, the receiving of an act. the sad, darker truth is that, most times, she welcomed the abuse. it doesn’t matter how many scars or marks she still carries over her body — the scars he left in her mind go far, far deeper than them.

one of jimmy’s preferred ways of physically assaulting her was by GRABBING her by the neck, most times also CHOKING her. because of this, freddie can’t stand pressure around her neck any more, in any way: she only wears wide-necked shirts, tank tops or open shirts, and can’t stand turtlenecks at all. she also loathes the feeling of scarves or necklaces around her neck, and will usually have a knee-jerk reaction to anyone touching her neck for any purpose. slaps or any kind of smack to the face also elicit a similar response from her, as it also mirrors one of jimmy’s behaviors.

in the very first years after leaving him, LOUD / SUDDEN noises would trigger her immensely. the first week in ashford was spent at peter’s place, on his couch, in a relatively safe neighborhood: the lack of noises made it so that every little creak of the house, every gast of wind would have her JUMP at any moment. for this reason, she decided to force herself into a shock therapy of sorts, and picked an apartment in the WORST, loudest neighborhood in town: as traumatic as the first few nights were, the constant stream of sounds and shouting somehow helped her ease back into a condition of relative quiet.

SILENCE, for the above mentioned reasons, makes her terribly uneasy. most times when she can’t sleep at night it’s for a lack of noises: those nights she’ll get anxious and the only way to calm down will be having a smoke on the fire escape, where the sounds are louder and the distraction of the city below eases her right back into her quiet chaos.

jimmy had a thing for saying she was WRONG. inadequate, weak, just plain stupid. she’d roll her eyes at that, she’d pretend it didn’t matter much more than any other bullshit that would usually leave his mouth — at some point, however, the words started piling up inside of her. and the longer it went on without her being able to get out of that relationship, the more she felt POWERLESS against him, the more she started believing him. and this ripples throughout her life, it has an effect on her even now: because no matter how hard she may struggle for a decent life, no matter the relationships and bonds she’s made to keep herself grounded — she still feels like an OUTSIDER. in her mind, everyone’s healthy, functional, strong: she — she is just plain WRONG.

he was successful in bringing her so low because he knew WHEN to strike, too. because when she tried to react and fight back, the first thing he’d do was call her CRAZY. he’d gaslight her, turn things around, confuse her out of her mind and then he would hold her, talking down to her, treating her like a mad, helpless child — “POOR BABY”, he’d often say, “WHERE WOULD YOU BE WITHOUT ME?”. even now, being called CRAZY or any inflection of it is a huge trigger for fred. though she tries hard to maintain her calm, even just the word makes her stop dead in her tracks, a sudden fury rising inside of her, tears in her eyes. when in a fight, it’s the one surefire way to make her lose her cool altogether.

saying the WRONG THING at the wrong time could trigger jimmy’s anger, so at some point she learned how to think hard about anything she’d say. it wouldn’t always work, but even now she usually takes about ten seconds before responding to anything, sometimes even more. unless involved in a friendly conversation with someone she’s truly close with, when asked a question freddie will usually go quiet, let her eyes drift downward, then reply in a quieter tone of voice. it’s a natural response she’s not at all aware of, and it’s usually dropped with people she’s truly CLOSE with ( people she can honestly trust ). she also tends to stall, when talking — use certain formulas that will allow her to gain some more time to think ( “i mean”, “uh, uhm”, “i think -”, etc ).

one consequence of her fear of acting / saying anything is her difficulty with CHOICES. when presented with a choice of any kind ( even something as menial as picking a restaurant or a song ), fred tends to get uneasy and embarrassed, and will try to find a way out of it any way she can.

on the other hand, decisions that require EMOTIONAL COMMITMENT ( which is to say, anything relating to relationships and feelings ) trigger her FIGHT or FLIGHT response, and she’s been known to act illogically in these scenarios. it’s never a matter of thinking clearly, it’s a matter of feeling SAFE or not. which, most of the time, doesn’t even have to do with the other party involved: most times, it’s her own FEAR kicking in and blocking her every action.

tying to that last part, her ILLOGICAL thinking is also aimed at herself. freddie is RECKLESS and doesn’t hold her own well being in much account: she drives too fast, forgets to lock the doors at night, walks home alone after closing the bar each night. it’s not a conscious DEATH WISH — it’s more that, despite the TERROR of jimmy or victor catching up to her, she both EXPECTS it to happen and thinks she DESERVES it, at least unconsciously. in a way, she believes this is a reckoning that awaits her further down the line, and she spontaneously works to shorten the wait. because despite the brave face she puts on every day, despite the way she’ll smile and say ‘ it’s all gone now ‘, she lives in CONSTANT terror: any chance to end it, even in the worst possible way, she’ll take it.

last but not least, fred is extremely self-conscious about her body, because her body is littered with the signs of what she went through ( in her mind, something she was an accomplice to — in her mind, something she DESERVED ). there are a handful of thin, faded CUTS ( the most visible on her collarbone, but many can be found on her thighs and her abdomen ) that were not self-inflicted but mostly came from sick games her customers at the motel forced on her ( a few of them, like the one on her collarbone, where caused by jimmy when he was high and deranged ). a few cigarette marks can be seen over her forearms too, and a jagged whiteish line on the side of her right calf where the glass of a vase cut her after he’d smashed it to the ground. her body in general, even not counting the scars, feels like a burial ground for the woman she could’ve been and the million ways she was used. though she’s fine exposing her skin through revealing / scant clothing, being naked and exposed is a raw, intense experience she’ll reject as long as she can: seeing herself naked still brings up a darkness she can barely rationalize.

#FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #HC —— sometimes i feel like an inland ocean. #abuse / #domestic abuse / #ptsd / #choking / #knives / #scars / #smoking / #god i just. #remembered i wrote this awful awful thing on my old blog #so ofc i had to repost it and add a little to it #i'm in pain i'm SO IN PAIN RN

[stfredsa]

i’m thinkin ‘... i’m thinkin’ about how most of fred’s ships involve people who have killed / are killers / are capable of violence but also to be discerning, aka people who know violence but won’t let it control them, rather they control it and how in her mind that is the exact opposite of what jimmy was ( a man controlled / consumed by violence and having absolutely no reign over it ).

#abuse / #domestic abuse / #FILE —— maybe i've always been more comfortable in chaos. #i am THINKIN' that the feeling of Safety is fundamental for fred and she #finds i all w these people who should probably be considered the opposite of safe #and yet ! and yet ! i am THINKING #i love all her lovers a lot just that