life as the girlfriend of guild master!sting
cw - CONTAINS SPOILERS AROUND GRAND MAGIC GAMES ARC, FLUFF, established relationship
it’s not that he’s a bad guild master. he’s great! honestly, he’s way better at it than anyone expected. it just… happened so unexpectedly.
one minute you were all dealing with the grand magic games. then dealing with the moment where jiemma pulled that stunt with lector—that split second where sting really thought he’d killed him. everything snapped after that. the fallout, the rebuilding, the whole emotional mess of sabertooth trying to figure out who they even were anymore.
but eventually, everyone found their path.
so, now you live in this strange little universe as a sabertooth mage, with your boyfriend, who is the master, and his annoyingly cute cat, who is fully convinced he holds the title too.
when you walk into the guild hall every morning, the doors swing open, and the entire room shifts like someone pressed pause.
and then there’s sting. he’s supposed to be doing something important, like signing mission reports, approving budgets, dealing with the magic council, or at least pretending to be responsible. instead, he’s already halfway out of his chair the second he sees you, eyes lighting up while he throws the boring papers behind him.
“oh, hey babe!” he says, grinning as he walks up to you, hands already itching to touch you.
lector gets to you first, of course. he always does. he zips over with that little grin of his, “good morning, y/n!” he chirps, tail flicking.
sting pretends he’s not jealous, but he absolutely is. he gives lector the same look he gives anyone who tries to take the last pastry. lector ignores him. like always. and it always makes you laugh.
you barely get two steps inside before sting’s arm is around your waist, pulling you into his side like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. he leans down to press a quick kiss to your cheek.
“you’re late,” he murmurs, even though you’re not.
“and you’re already being clingy,” you shoot back with a smile.
he’s touchy in the most casual, unapologetic way ever. a hand on your waist, chin on your shoulder, fingers dipping under the hem of your top, or even under your skirt. he’ll literally be giving orders with his face buried in your neck like that was just normal. like he wasn’t supposed to be the successor to the once terrifying, master jiemma.
and that contrast is what throws everyone off the most.
everyone else couldn’t believe how chill sting really was. he was so lenient. he didn’t care about being first place, or that bullshit about “the sabertooth way”, or any of the old rules jiemma used to bark about. sting’s version of leadership was different. and it was exactly the type of leadership this guild needed.
it was kind of funny seeing everyone still try to get used to it.
specially stings magic aura. it gets even softer around you. the air gets warmer and lighter, like sunlight through a window. even you have your moments where you remember you're not under the rules of a strict leader anymore . and that was just one of them.
the favoritism is also insane. he denies it everytime, but the evidence is everywhere.
like how you’re the only person allowed to walk into his office without knocking. the guild hears it all the time.
“hi sweetheart!” he’d smile, instantly patting his lap so you could take a seat. he’d get distracted immediately, ditching whatever he was doing to focus on you. half the time he forgets he even called someone in for a meeting, because the second you appear, his brain just resets. you’re the only thing worth paying attention to.
sometimes, this idiot would force you to stay on his lap, cause he “can’t survive without you!” and would talk to the person across the table like you weren’t even there.
sting has this habit of pretending he’s a serious, responsible guild master until you show up, and then suddenly he’s a golden retriever in human form...
he also refuses to let you go on jobs alone. it doesn’t matter if it’s a simple mission like collecting, or something you could do blindfolded. sting is already grabbing his coat like, “yeah, i’ll come.” and if he can’t go, he assigns you bodyguards, any of the strongest who’s available at the time. mainly rogue, since he trusts him the most.
and then there’s the money thing. he swears he’s responsible with guild finances, but somehow every time you mention wanting something—a new coat, a new bag, a snack from the market—it magically appears the next day. sting will shrug and say, “guild expenses,” like buying you cute things is part of the official sabertooth budget. rogue has tried to argue about it at least a few times. sting just stared at him and told him to mind his business, like rogue was somehow trying to come between you two, which is literally never the case at all. and he knows it’s not.
sting’s jealousy is like its own brand of entertainment. someone compliments you and he appears out of thin air like he teleported.
“thanks,” he says, sliding an arm around your shoulders, “but she already knows she’s pretty.”
“what? i’m just clarifying.”
he’s not mad—he’s just very territorial in the softest, most ridiculous way. he likes people knowing you’re his. he likes reminding them. he likes touching you in front of them because he can.
the best part though, is how he melts around you when no one’s looking. or, well, when he thinks no one’s looking. he’ll wander into your room after a long day, shirt half off, hair a mess, and just flop onto you like a very dramatic, very tired cat.
“being guildmaster is exhausting,” he mumbles into your stomach.
“you did three things today...” you remind him.
“exactly,” he says, grabbing your hand and placing it on his head. “comfort me.”
you laugh at him for a little, but you do. you always do.
he lets out this tiny, content noise, and burrow closer, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s trying to fuse himself to you. his hair tickles your skin, warm breath brushing your stomach, and you can feel the tension leaving his body in slow waves.
“you smell nice,” he says, voice muffled.
“you’re such a baby,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair.
“your baby,” he corrects instantly, lifting his head just enough to look at you with that sleepy, soft expression he only ever shows you. his eyes are half‑lidded, lashes brushing his cheeks, mouth curved in the faintest smile. “don’t downgrade my title.”
you giggle, heart still fluttering like he hasn’t been yours for a while.
sting shifts, crawling up your body with all the grace of someone who’s too tired to pretend he’s cool. he ends up half on top of you, half beside you, head tucked under your chin, arms locked around your middle like you’re a pillow he’s claimed for life.
“stop. you’re heavy,” you complain, even though you’re already hugging him back.
“i’m comfortable,” he pouts.
you press a kiss to the top of his head, and he melts even further, if that’s even possible. his fingers trace lazy shapes on your hip, then onto your skin.
that’s when lector pokes his head through the doorway.
he pauses. blinks. takes in the sight of sting draped over you like a blanket that learned how to cling.
“oh,” lector says, voice bright. “cuddle time?”
sting doesn’t even lift his head. he just groans into your neck. “go away.”
lector ignores him completely, floating into the room like he owns the place. “i brought snacks,” he announces, placing a small bag on your nightstand. “in case you two get hungry.”
“thank you, lector,” you say, smiling.
sting tightens his hold on you like he’s afraid lector might physically steal you. “she’s busy,” he mutters.
lector snorts. “you’re the one who’s busy. she’s just lying there.”
“i’m lying on her,” sting corrects, voice muffled against your collarbone.
“that’s worse,” lector says.
you laugh, and sting immediately lifts his head, eyes narrowing at lector like look what you did.
“you’re ruining the moment,” sting accuses.
“i live here,” lector fires back. “i can’t ruin anything.”
sting groans again, dramatically, and buries his face in your neck like he’s trying to hide from the world. “i’m ignoring him,” he declares.
“you always say that,” lector says, “and then you don’t.”
sting lifts one hand—without moving his face from your neck—and flips lector off.
“sting!” you scold, swatting his shoulder.
“what?” he says, still not looking up. “he deserves it.”
lector just laughs, floating over to curl up at the foot of the bed like a tiny, smug cat. “i’ll be quiet,” he promises. “you two can continue your… whatever this is.”
sting grumbles something unintelligible, but he relaxes again, melting back into you like he never left.
this is the version of sting no one else gets to see. the one who clings. the one who sighs into your neck. the one who kisses your collarbone just because it’s there.
he tilts his head up, brushing his nose against your jaw. “missed you today.”
“you saw me four hours ago.”
“too long,” he says, leaning up to kiss your cheek. then your jaw. then the corner of your mouth. each one soft, slow, like he’s savoring it. “way too long.”
you roll your eyes, but your fingers curl into his hair, and he smiles against your skin like he knows he’s won.
sting shifts again, propping himself up so he can look at you properly. his face is close eyes warm and a little sleepy, lips parted like he’s about to say something stupidly sweet.
it’s gentle at first, slow and warm, the kind of kiss that feels like sinking into a soft bed after a long day. his hand slides up your side, thumb brushing your ribs. he kisses you again, deeper this time, like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment.
when he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in.
“you make everything better,” he whispers, voice low and honest in a way he’d never let anyone else hear.
you feel your face heat up, and sting grins—that lazy grin he gets when he knows he’s flustered you.
“shut up,” you mumble, pushing at his shoulder.
he doesn’t budge. he just laughs softly and kisses you again, quick and sweet.
“no,” he says, settling back down and pulling you into his chest. “i like talking about you.”
you bury your face in his neck to hide your smile, and he wraps himself around you like a blanket, legs tangled with yours, arms tight and warm. even lector is curled up at your feet, tail flicking contently.
“you’re stuck with me... with us,” he murmurs, already drifting off.
“i know,” you whisper back.
you wouldn’t want it any other way.
