Idk if this is a unpopular opinion or not but if fairy tail ends with some pairings/ships being canon I just don’t want Mashima doing all the “next generation” shit, I think that it really doesn’t fit with fairy tail’s essence…
Dragon slayer magic or celestial spirit magic? Natsu or Gray? Anime or manga? Happy, Charle, or Pantherlily? GMG arc or Tartarus arc? Jellal or Gajeel? Mira or Erza? Loke, Virgo, or Aquarius? Sabertooth or Crime Sorciere?
When you awoke the next morning it was to sunlight streaming through the windows. You’d neglected to close them last night and as you lay there, you could see dust particles floating in the sunbeams. The bed was soft and comfortable and for the first time in what felt like an age, you actually felt momentarily rested.
Until you remembered where you were and what today was.
You were alone in the room as expected and you couldn’t even see any evidence that Spencer had entered it last night. This was his childhood home though so he would know the whereabouts of the other bedrooms and had likely stayed in one of them or downstairs. If he had even returned to the house at all.
A grumble within your tummy reminded you that you hadn’t eaten since the flight yesterday and reluctantly, you hauled yourself out of bed, pulling back on the clothes you’d discarded yesterday. You slowly made your way back downstairs, searching for the kitchen in the unfamiliar house. That was where you found your husband.
He was sat at a circular kitchen table, black coffee which you knew would have at least four sugars in it in front of him and the local paper clasped in his hands.
“Morning,” you greeted him, resolving with yourself that today, you wouldn’t fall out. He didn’t need that on the day of his father’s funeral and you didn’t need that when you were going to be surrounded by his family. You were still his wife, you had to at least put on a front and make a show that you were supporting him. Although, you genuinely did want to support him if you could. You remembered when your own father had died, how low and lost you’d become.
Spencer didn’t respond, barely glancing up from his paper. Spying a toaster and a bread bin you set about making some toast for yourself, trying to ignore the question that been niggling at you since last night. After spreading your toast, you sat opposite him at the table, making a mental note to attempt to locate cleaning supplies and to mop the floor at some point over the next few days. It felt slightly tacky underfoot. Munching on your breakfast, the niggle grew larger and larger until you couldn’t not ask.
“Spencer, why didn’t you tell me your father was ill?”
You almost didn’t expect him to even respond.
“Isn’t that what we do now? Not tell each other things.” His voice was quiet and calm, which was why you pushed him when you shouldn’t have.
“But this was important.”
He folded the paper and set it down, staring at you coldly. “So was you deciding to have an abortion but you didn’t tell me until after you’d done it.”
Ouch. The was as cutting as he’d intended it to be. Still, you tried to look past it. His father had just died after all.
“This is completely different Spencer….”
“Is it?” he interrupted you. “I don’t tell you my father is dying until after he’s already dead and you don’t tell me until after you’ve already killed our child.”
You couldn’t help it, blurting out,“It wasn’t OUR child.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed and he shoved his chair backwards, standing upright. Then he seemed to explode, shocking you completely. “So I’m constantly reminded. It was HIS. Everything about you was always HIS. Even when I thought you were mine, that you loved me, you were HIS. I was wrong about you, so fucking wrong. You’re just a spoilt little girl who took what she could get, smashing peoples hearts along the way. I was blinded by you for so long but I see you now Y/N. I see you for what you truly are. It’s no wonder he didn’t want you, it’s no wonder he didn’t want the baby he’d put inside of you. It’s no wonder…. ”
“SHUT UP!” you shrieked, your hands flying to cover your ears as you begged yourself not to cry. He hadn’t even reacted like this when he’d found about the abortion, simply turning cold towards you which you almost thought was worse. He stalked over to you and angrily pulled your hands down, his fingers gripping your wrists tightly. He lowered his face so that it was level with yours.
“I knew I’d always be second best to him but I thought that maybe, after everything he’d done to you, you’d see that he was the bad guy and I was the good. But no. Even after all I had done for you, everything we’d been through with Lara, with the cancer, after everything I gave you, you still went back. I could even forgive the affair, you know. But not that. You killed the one thing I wanted more than anything. The one thing I could no longer have naturally. And I hate you for that.”
His face was closer to yours now, the coffee on his breath filling your nose. His grip on your wrists was so tight you were sure you were going to bruise.
“I didn’t tell you about my father because I didn’t want you to pity me. I didn’t want anything from you anymore. I didn’t want my family thinking you were the perfectly lovely little wifey.”
“So why did you even bring me here then? You could have left me in New York. You could have divorced me,” you finally managed to respond to him.
“Because for some unknown reason, my mother likes you. And she’s been through enough without dealing with this too. That is the only reason you are still my wife on paper and in name. The ONLY reason. Now go and get dressed, and make a fucking effort. You’ve looked disgusting recently.”
He released your wrists and stalked out of the room leaving you wondering how this morning had turned so wrong so quickly.