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@diarylector
about
hi, call me dia and i'm mainly writing for some animes and 2d characters. I'm sorry If my english doesn't sound right, it's not my main language. but i really hope y'all like my works :)
• the smallcase is just for the aesthetic. i don't write smut. feel free to send me any ask.
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dia'sks / for asks that you send me
(guild) scenarios / for the storys of each guild, example: sabertooth scenarios
Thankyouuu I love the fic 💜💜💜 PLS don't ever stop writing, you're doing amazing!!!!!!
oooh!! tysm!!! It's just that sometimes it crosses my mind, I don't know if it makes much sense for me to write, But I like it, despite everything, so I think I should continue (especially since you like my work). btw thank you :) ❤️
oh gosh i really wish organise this blog. real.
HII 🤗 Can I request an enemies to lover trope with Sting x (fem) reader, reader is a Fairy Tail mage. It takes place during the grand magic games. I love your stories!!! you are doing great 🫶🏻
heeey!! tysm for ask for a story I believe that if you hadn't asked, I might not have come back here, but anyway, sorry for the delay and I hope you like!!! tysm for liking my works, this mean a lot for me :p
reason to fight / sting eucliffe
wc: 617
the noise of the arena thrummed in your chest like a second heart.
fairy tail and sabertooth facing each other once again.
you crossed your arms, feeling his gaze before you even saw him.
“are you going to keep staring or are you actually going to fight?”
sting’s voice came laced with that same provocative tone as always. when you turned your head, he was already smiling — that confident, beautiful, irritating smile.
“unlike you, i don’t need to strike a pose to get attention.”
golden eyes gleamed.
it was always like this.
since the first day of the games.
since his arrogant comment calling fairy tail a decaying guild.
since the first time you fired back at him properly.
you almost never exchanged anything that wasn’t a taunt… and yet you could never stop searching for each other in the middle of the crowd. even when you fought in different arenas. even for no reason at all.
that day’s match placed both of you as the main event.
when your name echoed through the stadium, fairy tail exploded into cheers behind you. natsu was yelling something, lucy waved like you were heading into war, and erza gave you that silent look of pride.
on the other side, all of sabertooth roared for sting.
he stepped into the arena like the world belonged to him.
and damn it… he looked good like that.
“you’re not running away this time, right, fairy?”
“only if you beg.”
“in your dreams.”
the signal was given.
magic exploded.
white light against yours, the impact cracking the ground. the crowd disappeared. the sound disappeared. all that existed was him — fast, strong, annoyingly good.
and smiling.
as if fighting you were the best part of his day.
you lunged again and, when your magics collided, he appeared too close. close enough for you to feel his breath.
“you’ve gotten better.”
low. no audience. no provocation.
the first sentence that wasn’t a challenge.
you hesitated.
mistake.
he used the opening and slammed you to the ground — without hurting you. his hands held your wrists for a second longer than necessary, golden eyes locked on yours.
“don’t lose focus.”
“then stop talking.”
“can’t.”
the world came rushing back with the roar of the crowd.
you shoved him away with magic and jumped back, your heart racing too fast to be just from the fight.
a draw.
officially.
but the tension remained.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀💕
that night, you stepped out to get some air — and found exactly who you wanted to avoid.
“knew you’d run from the celebration.”
sting leaned against the wall beside you.
no audience. no guilds.
just him.
“came to provoke me?”
“no… to compliment you.”
you blinked.
“you’re strong. you always were.”
the sincerity shattered any ready-made response.
the silence felt different from the rivalry in the arena — heavy, warm.
“when the games are over, we won’t have a reason to fight anymore.”
“who said we need a reason?”
his smile changed. softer.
one step. then another.
“is that an invitation?”
“don’t get excited.”
he laughed, his hand brushing against yours.
“we’re still enemies.”
“only in the arena.”
his eyes dropped to your lips.
“and outside of it?”
you grabbed him by the collar.
the kiss started like all your clashes — intense, competitive — and then melted into something far too warm to be hatred.
when you pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.
“this is going to be trouble,” sting murmured, smiling.
“a lot.”
“can’t wait.”
and for the first time since the beginning of the grand magic games, winning or losing didn’t seem like the most important thing.
hewo guys! I'm afraid of posting and nobody likes 😞 that's hard
fear / akutagawa ryunosuke
wc: 650
akutagawa had never cared much for life. even if it were a high-risk mission, he would accept it without fear of death.
however, since he got to know you, something inside him had changed. he was afraid of dying and not being able to hold you one last time, because that would mean he could never be by your side again.
that thought irritated him.
not the fear itself, but the fact that it existed.
for years, the idea of the end had always seemed convenient. a well-earned rest after a lifetime shaped by pain, pressure, and contempt. death had never been a threat. it was just… a possible consequence. an acceptable one.
not anymore.
now, every mission came with a discomfort in his chest that he didn’t know how to name without feeling angry at himself. an invisible thread pulled him back, stubbornly reminding him of you. of the sound of your voice saying his name without harshness. of the way your fingers touched the black fabric of his coat, as if rashōmon couldn’t hurt you. as if he, akutagawa ryūnosuke, weren’t something too broken to be held like that.
he came back injured that night.
dark blood stained his shirt, his breathing was shallow, and still his feet carried him to you by instinct. not to the mafia’s doctor. not to mori. to you.
when he opened the door and saw you standing in the middle of the room, the world seemed to lose its weight for a second. his body gave in right after.
you caught him before he fell.
“you’re an idiot,” your voice trembled more than your hands. “a suicidal idiot.”
he gave a weak laugh, then coughed.
“if i were… i wouldn’t have come back.”
you helped him sit down, cleaning the blood carefully, your eyes avoiding his as if looking at him were too dangerous. and maybe it was. akutagawa noticed. he noticed the fear hidden in your movements, the restrained urgency, the excessive care.
that hurt more than any wound.
“did you think i was going to die?” he asked quietly.
the silence answered first. then you did.
“i thought that… maybe this time you wouldn’t come back.”
akutagawa closed his eyes.
for a moment, he saw the emptiness that had always awaited him without demanding anything. and right after that, he saw you alone in that same room, waiting for someone who would never step there again.
his chest tightened.
“i thought about that too,” he confessed, his voice barely audible. “and i hated it.”
you looked up, surprised.
“i hated the idea of not seeing you again. of not hearing your voice. of not… touching you.”
the words came out broken, as if he hadn’t been made to say them out loud. maybe he hadn’t. akutagawa had always been better with silence. but in that moment, silence felt far too cruel.
you stepped closer, touching his face carefully.
“then don’t die,” you asked. simple. cruelly simple.
he laughed again, without humor.
“if it were that easy.”
you pulled him into an embrace—firm, resolute—as if you wanted to prove that he was still there. akutagawa hesitated for a second—an old reflex—before returning it, burying his face in your shoulder. his fingers tightened in the fabric of your clothes as if you were the only solid thing in that world.
“i don’t fear death,” he murmured. “but i fear what it would take from me.”
he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.
“and that… frightens me.”
because loving you didn’t save him. it didn’t make him good. it didn’t erase the blood on his hands.
but it made living stop being indifferent.
and for akutagawa, that was the most dangerous—and most honest—form of love.
I’m not super sure about the colours on this one but eh it’s okay :3
Enjoyyy!!
OMG I LOVED IT!!!
christmas with port mafia
wc: 361
christmas at the port mafia meant one thing very clearly: no one was actually relaxed.
the entire building was decorated in absurdly elegant tones—deep red, gold, outrageously expensive candles—and absolutely no one dared ask who had ordered it.
chuuya walked into the main room carrying a heavy box.
“i swear, if this thing explodes, i’m shoving this entire christmas up—”
“relax, chuuya.” dazai was sprawled on the couch, fiddling with a golden ribbon. “if it were going to explode, i’d have foreseen it. probably.”
“that does not reassure me even a little.”
mori appeared with a satisfied smile, holding a glass of wine.
“what a lovely atmosphere, don’t you think? the mafia really needed a moment of unity.”
chuuya turned slowly. “boss… why is there an armed nativity scene?”
“prevention,” mori replied calmly.
at the other end of the room, akutagawa stared at a wreath as if it were a mortal enemy.
“it’s crooked.”
“it’s just a wreath,” higuchi said, already sweating.
“it. is. crooked.”
seconds later, rashomon adjusted the wreath with surgical precision.
dazai clapped. “see? violent christmas spirit. beautiful.”
gin appeared silently with a tray.
“dinner is ready.”
chuuya exhaled. “finally.”
“before that,” mori interrupted. “gift exchange.”
the silence that followed was so heavy it felt like another weapon of the organization.
akutagawa extended a box to dazai without looking at him.
“take it.”
dazai opened it. a black scarf.
“oooh, you thought of me! how sweet.”
“it’s so you stop catching colds and dying before i get to kill you.”
chuuya received an outrageously expensive bottle.
“this is good,” he admitted. “very good.”
“of course it is,” mori smiled. “i like to keep my subordinates happy.”
dazai looked at his own gift, then at mori.
“and mine is what?”
mori raised his glass. “my patience, renewed for another year.”
chuuya laughed out loud. “that’s the best gift of all.”
in the background, the tree blinked slowly. no one smiled much. no one said “merry christmas” out loud.
but for a few hours, no one was trying to kill anyone.
which, in the port mafia, was practically a christmas miracle.
christmas with ada (armed detetive agency)
wc: 289
spending christmas at the armed detective agency meant accepting, from the very beginning, that nothing would go according to plan.
the decorations consisted of a crooked tree—mysteriously taller on one side—string lights that blinked whenever they felt like it, and a santa hat hanging around fukuzawa’s neck, which he very clearly had not asked for.
atsushi walked in carrying a box.
“i brought the cake… i think.”
“you think?” ranpo asked, already sticking his head inside the box. “ah, great. strawberry. perfect. the best flavor there is.”
“you don’t even like strawberry!” atsushi protested.
“i don’t, but christmas requires sacrifices.”
kunikida stood beside the tree, holding a ridiculously long list.
“according to the plan, at this moment we should be standing in appreciative silence, exchanging gifts in an orderly manner.”
dazai, who was hanging upside down from the couch, raised his hand.
“can i be the gift?”
“no,” everyone answered at the same time.
yosano appeared from the kitchen with a suspicious smile.
“has anyone seen the big knife?”
atsushi went pale. “f-for… cutting the turkey?”
“of course,” she replied. “unless someone would like to volunteer.”
absolute silence.
ranpo put on the crooked santa hat and pointed at dazai. “he wants to.”
“i do not!” dazai complained. “i want to die with style, not like this.”
fukuzawa cleared his throat, finally speaking.
“can we at least try to have a normal christmas?”
at that exact moment, the tree fell over. the cake slid off the table. the lights went out. and dazai started singing a completely off-key christmas song.
atsushi sighed, looking around.
“…i guess this is normal for us.”
ranpo smiled, already eating cake off the floor.
“the best christmas possible.”
christmas with lamia scale
wc: 780
lamia scale never did anything halfway.
if they were going to celebrate christmas, then it would be with:
— fake snow falling inside the guild,
— an improvised stage,
— and a choir that sang more out of tune than in harmony.
and you were walking right into the middle of all of it.
members rushed around shouting instructions, hanging crooked decorations. the tree topper had collapsed three times already. someone was trying to tie garlands to the top of a beam that very clearly wasn’t going to hold.
and in the middle of all that chaos stood lyon vastia, wearing a serious expression, as if he were overseeing a military operation.
“this is completely out of symmetry,”
he muttered to himself, frowning at the christmas tree.
you approached slowly, amused.
“it’s symmetrical enough, lyon.”
he looked at you like he’d just heard a christmas blasphemy.
“symmetrical enough?”
his hand flew to his forehead.
“this is christmas, not an artistic catastrophe.”
you laughed.
and that—just that—was enough to make lyon’s ears tint slightly red. just a little. barely noticeable… to anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did.
sherria ran up to you, almost slipping.
“you came! i knew you would! i knew it! i knew it!”
she hugged you tightly, nearly knocking the air out of you.
juvia wasn’t there, but if she were, she probably would’ve attacked:
sherria was an affectionate hurricane.
master jura supervised everything with his impenetrable calm, while everyone else created a sort of “improvised christmas festival.”
the music was loud.
the lights were bright.
the chaos was… well, expected.
but lyon?
he was desperately trying to keep everything aesthetically acceptable.
and when you came near him again, he pretended to be busy, adjusting a bow that was already perfect.
“you look… elegant today,”
he said out of nowhere, trying to sound casual while his face betrayed everything.
you smiled.
“thank you. you do too.”
“hmph.”
he looked away.
“i tried not to overdo it. but… i suppose i wanted to make a good impression.”
your heart beat faster.
did he really just say that?
after some time helping set the tables, hang lights, and stop dan from running someone over with an improvised sleigh, lyon called to you:
“do you… want to step outside for a bit? it’s snowing out there. the real kind.”
you walked outside together.
the night was quiet, cold, but pleasant.
lights dyed the snow with golden reflections.
and lyon walked beside you like someone trying very hard to seem completely in control…
even while glancing sideways at you every three steps.
when a cold wind blew, you shivered.
lyon immediately—
“…here.”
he took off his own coat and placed it over your shoulders with almost ceremonial care.
and then promptly froze like a statue, realizing what he’d just done.
“it’s… just so you don’t get cold,”
he cleared his throat.
“don’t read too much into it.”
you didn’t answer—just held the coat closer to your chest.
lyon looked away, embarrassed.
you stopped near the frozen river, where the lights reflected like stars on the icy water.
the silence was comfortable.
until lyon took a deep breath and said:
“i…”
you turned to him.
he looked like he was about to internally combust.
completely red.
completely nervous.
“i wanted you to know that…”
he touched the back of his neck.
“i… like your presence.”
another second passed.
“i like you.”
your heart jumped.
and before you could respond—
sherria appeared out of nowhere.
“you two are out here!!! the tree fell again!!! and we need help!!!”
lyon closed his eyes, defeated.
“…please let me finish this later.”
you laughed and took his arm.
“finish whenever you want.”
he gave a small smile—rare, sincere.
“i want to.”
when you went back inside, the tree was down. again.
dan was stuck underneath it, asking for help dramatically.
master jura calmly tried to push it off.
sherria ran around in circles.
and when you walked in—
sherria looked at you, looked at lyon, and—
“you two look so different!!! did something happen???”
you and lyon answered at the same time.
“n-no!”
“of course not!”
the entire guild didn’t believe it for a second.
“hmm,” ren said doubtfully.
“interesting,” yuka added.
“smells like a couple!” toby declared.
lyon turned red all the way to his neck.
but when no one was looking, he leaned closer to you and murmured softly:
“i promise i’ll tell you everything… when we’re alone.”
you laughed.
lyon vastia might be ice—but that christmas, he was melting for you.
christmas with blue pegasus
wc: 751
you had never seen fiore as illuminated as it was on christmas night in balsam village—the home of blue pegasus. the lights blinked like electric fireflies, reflecting off the windows of luxurious hotels and the large mirrors scattered along the street (because, of course, blue pegasus needed mirrors even on the sidewalks).
the snow was light, elegant, as if even it had been instructed to fall with style in that place.
when you knocked on the door, it opened before you could even finish the third knock.
eve looked at you with a smile warmer than any fireplace.
“you came…” his voice came out almost like a relieved sigh. “merry christmas.”
he offered you his hand to step inside—a gentle, polite gesture that still made your heart stumble just a little.
inside, the guild was… well… as blue pegasus as it could possibly be on christmas.
twinkling lights.
perfume in the air.
champagne.
jenny posing for photos.
ren hanging white flowers on the tree (real flowers, of course).
and hibiki…
…trying to make the star on top of the tree float using archive, but it stubbornly kept spinning and nearly decapitating people.
ichiya appeared out of nowhere, launching himself toward you.
“myyyyyy dear!!!!!”
you froze.
eve grabbed your arm before the hug could hit you.
“uncle ichiya, please… personal space.”
ichiya took a deep breath, placed a hand on his chest, and smiled dramatically.
“all for the charmmmm of this young lady!”
you breathed a sigh of relief when he backed off—only for hibiki to show up immediately after, leaning an arm on eve’s shoulder.
“so, eve. brought company, huh?” his smile was teasing. “i knew it. from day one i said you looked like the type who’d fall hard.”
eve internally combusted.
nearly turned into snow.
“hibiki, for the love of—”
jenny appeared beside them. “i ship it.” “me too,” ren said. “unbelievable passion!” ichiya shouted.
you laughed, completely red, and eve practically pulled you away while murmuring a quiet “sorry about them.”
the party was wonderful, but there were so many people, so many lights, and so much perfume that eve was clearly getting tense. he looked at you, then toward the door.
“do you… want to step outside for a bit? have a quieter moment?”
you agreed.
you walked through the luxurious garden behind the building, where christmas lights reflected off ice crystals clinging to the trees. the ground made that pleasant sound of snow crunching under your boots.
for a few minutes, you stayed in a comfortable silence—the kind that only exists with someone who makes your heart slow down.
then eve stopped.
you stopped too.
he looked at his hands, then at yours.
and took a deep breath.
“i…” he pressed his lips together before continuing. “i wanted to thank you for coming.” another second passed. “you… make everything feel lighter.”
your chest warmed so softly that even the snow seemed warmer.
eve was nervous. nervous in a way no magical attack had ever made him.
snow fell, silent.
you both breathed, together.
“actually…” he touched the back of his neck, looking away. “i’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time.”
your stomach flipped.
he continued:
“when i think of christmas… i think of you.” his voice trembled. “and i… wanted to know if—”
and then—
ichiya yelled from inside the building:
“eeeve! come back here! the punch explodeddddd!!!”
eve closed his eyes, resigned.
you laughed. there was no stopping it.
he took a deep breath, stepped closer, and took your hand—warm, very warm, and firm.
“…can i finish this later?”
you smiled. “of course.”
eve smiled back, that gentle smile that nearly melts snow.
“good. because i want to say it properly.”
he held your hand tighter, not letting go as he led you back inside.
the guild was in total chaos.
the punch really had exploded.
jenny was laughing.
hibiki was trying to fix the ice machine ren had broken.
ichiya was running around with a tray of panettones.
when you walked in hand in hand, everyone looked.
and everyone smiled.
ren gave a thumbs-up.
jenny started taking pictures immediately.
hibiki winked, triumphant.
“i. knew it.”
eve turned red to his very soul.
but he didn’t let go of your hand.
and that christmas—with too much perfume, too much glitter, and too much drama—you knew:
it was impossible not to love blue pegasus.
and even more impossible not to love eve.
Hello! Could you write what Sting Eucliffe would do when reader is jealous and insecure? They feel like Sting could be taken from them so easily and it bothers them so much
I believe this would fit better as a headcanon, but I wrote a story. Anyway, sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy it!
away from here / sting eucliffe
wc: 597
sting had always been too much light.
not just because he was a white dragon slayer of light—that was obvious to anyone—but because he smiled easily, talked to everyone, laughed loudly, and made it seem like the world was a simple place to live in. wherever he went, he drew attention. eyes gathered. people came closer.
and that tightened the reader’s chest in an uncomfortable way.
it wasn’t distrust. it never was.
it was fear.
fear that someone would notice too quickly what you already knew. fear that someone would reach out a hand and sting would take it without realizing how much that would hurt. fear that he would be too easy to lose.
that afternoon, sabertooth was loud. sting was chatting animatedly with some younger mages, gesturing too much, laughing like always, completely at ease. the reader watched from a distance, far quieter than someone who was usually at his side.
sting noticed.
he always noticed these things.
he said goodbye to the group quickly and came over to you, long strides, relaxed expression—but attentive eyes.
“you’re quiet today.”
the reader looked away.
“it’s nothing.”
sting sat down beside you, resting his elbows on his knees. for a moment, he stayed silent. then he reached out and touched your hand, without pulling, without pressing.
“doesn’t look like nothing.”
the silence spoke for you.
sting let out a low sigh, like someone who already understood. he stood up suddenly and tugged your hand naturally.
“come with me.”
“sting—”
“just trust me.”
he led you out of the guild, to a quieter spot in the courtyard, where the sun bathed everything in a warm golden light. there, he let go of your hand only to lean against the railing and face you directly.
no exaggerated smile. no joking.
“you think i’m going to leave.”
it wasn’t a question.
“what?”
“you think someone can just show up and take me.” he said it plainly, the way he always did. “i can see it in the way you get when i talk to other people.”
your heart tightened.
sting rubbed the back of his neck, visibly awkward—something rare for him when the subject wasn’t fighting.
“i’m not good with complicated words.” he gave a weak laugh. “but i’m terrible at pretending i don’t see when someone i love is feeling like this.”
the word landed there, simple, without unnecessary weight. as if it were obvious.
he took a step closer.
“i chose you.” his voice was steady. “it wasn’t by accident. it wasn’t because it was easy. it was because i wanted to. and i still do.”
the reader tried to respond, but couldn’t.
“i know i draw attention.” sting smiled faintly. “i know it looks like the whole world could pull me away.”
he brought a hand to your chest, pressing lightly.
“but my heart doesn’t work like that.”
sting rested his forehead against yours.
“no one takes me.” his voice was low. “i stay. because i want to. because you’re the one i want to stay with.”
the touch was warm, constant, real.
“if you feel insecure, talk to me,” he murmured. “don’t carry it alone.”
for a moment, everything went quiet.
“nothing is going to take me away from here.”
“not as long as you want me.”
and for the first time that day, the fear loosened.
because sting eucliffe didn’t promise the impossible.
he simply stayed—and made sure to make that clear.
christmas with fairy tail
wc: 861
the snow started falling early in magnolia—slow, lazy flakes piling up like sugar on the rooftops. you pulled your scarf higher as you walked toward the gates of fairy tail, feeling that familiar anticipation that always came with christmas.
the moment you opened the door, warmth hit you like an explosion.
“merry christmas!”
it was impossible to tell who shouted it—it could’ve been natsu, happy, the entire guild, or even the building itself—but it was enough to welcome you into the usual, comforting chaos.
the giant tree stood in the middle of the hall, covered in crooked decorations, broken ornaments (probably casualties of natsu and gray’s “training”), and a lopsided star stubbornly leaning to the right.
and as soon as you took one step inside—
natsu hugged you so hard he actually lifted your feet off the ground.
“you came! i knew it! i told lucy you’d come! lucy, i told you, didn’t i?!”
“i’m afraid you did,” lucy appeared behind him, carrying boxes of presents.
“merry christmas! if you want to survive, stay close to me.”
happy hovered around your head like an excited drone.
“aye! did you bring food? presents? both?”
you laughed while brushing snow out of your hair.
before you could answer, gray walked past you shirtless, holding garlands.
“why are you so surprised? it’s christmas. everyone shows up.”
he looked at you a little longer and gave a small, almost discreet smile.
“glad you came.”
your stomach did that silly little flip.
typical fairy tail.
typical him.
it didn’t take long before natsu and gray started arguing about which side of the tree was more crooked.
lucy was about to rip her hair out.
wendy tried to patch both of them up with bandages and tea.
and laxus watched everything from the back of the room, arms crossed, with the look of someone thinking am i paid for this?—even though he very clearly wasn’t. it wasn’t a mission.
when you approached him, laxus lifted his gaze, one eyebrow raised.
“finally.”
he pulled a small red box out of his pocket.
“it’s for you.”
when you opened it, you found a delicate bracelet with a small golden lightning bolt.
“laxus… this is—”
he looked away, scratching the back of his neck.
“it’s not a big deal.”
“i just… thought it suited you.”
his smile was so subtle it almost went unnoticed.
almost.
the chaos only grew as the afternoon went on, and in the middle of it all, an unexpected group walked through the door.
sting, rogue, lector, and frosch.
and behind them, rufus, minerva, and orga—everyone carrying bags and packages.
lucy let out a deep sigh.
“please tell me you’re not here to fight.”
sting smiled like it was impossible not to love him.
“fight? on christmas? of course not.”
he looked at you. a wink.
“unless you wanna compete with me to see who wraps presents better.”
lector laughed.
“sting can’t even fold paper!”
frosch raised his arms.
“frosch brought cookies!”
natsu immediately popped up behind you.
“i heard cookies?!”
and just like that—as if it were the most natural thing in the world—the two guilds blended together, sharing food, music, and chaos, until makarov was crying from emotion over the “union of families.”
rogue approached you during a quieter moment, holding a warm cup of hot chocolate.
“are you having fun?”
you nodded.
he glanced at sting, laughing loudly with lucy and natsu.
then he looked back at you.
“it’s easier to smile when you’re here.”
your heart jumped.
frosch hugged your leg.
“frosch agrees!”
then night fell, and the city lights turned on, bathing all of magnolia in a golden glow beneath the falling snow. sting suggested everyone go outside.
“let’s see the plaza lights! it’s better than watching natsu eat everything by himself!”
natsu protested, mouth full.
you all went together—laughing, snow settling in your hair, the entire guild spilling into the streets like a group of oversized kids.
lucy leaned on gray’s arm.
happy flew in circles.
wendy chatted with rogue.
sting walked beside you, nudging you now and then just to make you look at him.
when you reached the central plaza, the lights turned on all at once, and everyone fell silent for a few seconds.
it was beautiful. colorful. bright.
warm, even in the cold.
natsu held happy’s paw.
gray adjusted the scarf around your neck properly.
laxus stood behind, watching all of you like someone storing memories he’d never admit to.
and sting said, without ceremony:
“this is the best christmas i’ve ever had.”
rogue, quiet at his side, added:
“me too.”
his eyes met yours.
“because of you.”
frosch hugged you.
happy did too.
then wendy.
and then sting decided he wanted a hug as well.
in the end, it turned into a huge group hug that almost knocked you over.
but it was perfect—messy, loud, and warm.
it was fairy tail.
it was sabertooth.
it was fiore.
it was christmas.
and it was with you.
stay tonight / atsushi nakajima
wc: 816
the rain had started soft, almost timid, but now it hammered against your apartment windows as if trying to force its way in. the sky—much darker than it should’ve been at that hour—cast a cold bluish glow across your room. you were already in bed, hugging your pillow, trying to convince your body that sleep was possible, but your mind kept spinning restlessly.
that was when the knock sounded.
very quiet. two taps, almost hesitant.
and you knew immediately who it was.
you dragged yourself to the door without even thinking of fixing your hair or your clothes. when you opened it, the hallway light outlined atsushi standing there, completely soaked, bangs plastered to his forehead, wearing that expression that always looked like an apology—even when he had done absolutely nothing wrong.
“atsushi? what happened?”
he took a deep breath, trying to form a sentence, his voice catching a little.
“i… i… sorry for coming like this. i just…” he clenched his fist, as if gathering courage, and finally lifted his eyes to you. “can i stay? just for tonight?”
the question was gentle, almost fragile. as if the entire world had been too heavy on him today. poor harmless feline.
you didn’t have to think. you opened the door wider and motioned for him to come in. atsushi hesitated for half a second—like he was still questioning whether he deserved this space, this shelter—but he stepped inside, taking off his shoes carefully while leaving small puddles on the floor.
“you can go take a hot shower,” you said softly. “i’ll get you a towel.”
he nodded, always polite, always far too grateful for the smallest gesture. when he returned, now wearing a simple shirt and borrowed sweatpants, hair still damp and smelling faintly of soap, he looked a bit less tense… but he still carried that broken air.
you both sat on the bed, the sound of rain filling the silence so steadily it almost felt like a blanket.
“do you want to tell me what happened?” you asked gently, running your hand over the back of that big little kitty sitting on your bed.
atsushi fidgeted with his fingers, gaze dropping again.
“it’s nothing huge… i just… didn’t want to be alone tonight. after everything at work, after hearing things that…” he swallowed hard. “i know i shouldn’t let it get to me, but sometimes it’s hard. sometimes i start to… feel like i’m in the wrong place. like i’m a burden.”
your chest tightened. because you knew how hard he fought, how much he tried, how much of himself he gave.
you placed your hand over his. he froze for a second—atsushi was always surprised by direct affection—but soon relaxed, almost melting under your touch.
“you’re never a burden,” you said. “and you’re never in the wrong place when you’re here.”
he slowly lifted his eyes. there was something warm there, something trying to glow even after a day that had clearly dimmed him.
“i feel better with you,” he confessed, simple and sincere.
the rain kept pouring, and you were already under the blankets. the soft light from the bedside lamp made the moment intimate in a quiet, comforting way—nothing rushed, nothing forced.
when you opened the space beside you, atsushi hesitated, as always. but this time he was less timid, less scared. he moved closer, lying on his side facing you, his eyes studying your face as if checking whether he was truly allowed to be this close.
you brought your hand closer, touching his cheek. he let out a sigh that sounded like weeks of tension dissolving.
“can i… hold you?” he asked softly.
it was such a pure request that you smiled without realizing it.
you didn’t answer with words. you just opened your arms, and atsushi slipped into them like someone who had finally found rest. his face against your shoulder, the warm thread of his breath along your collarbone, his fingers trembling slightly as they held your shirt—not out of desire, but out of relief.
out of belonging.
you stayed like that for long minutes. the silence didn’t weigh; in fact, it felt like its own conversation.
until atsushi spoke again, almost in a drowsy whisper:
“thank you for letting me stay… i think…” he breathed out, nuzzling closer into your neck, “i needed you today.”
you slid your fingers through his still-damp hair, feeling his whole body relax completely, as if the safety you offered was the only thing capable of pulling him back from the soft, creeping darkness that tried to swallow him.
when he finally fell asleep, still curled around you, your last thought before drifting off was this:
he wasn’t alone.
and neither were you.
do you guys have any authors you could recommend that I could follow? I'm somewhat absent from this area, but I would love to be able to interact with other authors :) feel safe to send me recommendations!!
rogue cheney as your boyfriend
wc: 1,1k
rogue is a man of silences;
he observes before acting, thinks before speaking, and loves in the same way;
through silent gestures, constancy, and the calm that only he has;
his love doesn’t come like lightning, but like a comforting shadow that wraps, warms, and protects.
when he starts falling in love, he notices it before admitting it;
it’s subtle;
the way his gaze lingers on you, the slight smile when you laugh, the way his tone changes when he says your name;
it’s not something he plans;
it just happens, and it scares him a little, because rogue is afraid of losing control over what he feels;
he’s not one for grand declarations, but for constant presence;
he’s the type who’ll go to you in the middle of the night just to make sure you’re okay;
who’ll follow you in silence on a long mission and, without needing to say a word, will make you feel safe just by being there, even if like a shadow;
with rogue, love means trust;
he needs to trust someone deeply to open up, and when he does, it’s forever;
you become part of his safe zone, a place where he can finally be vulnerable without fear;
“with you… it’s easy to breathe,” he’d say, in an almost whispered tone.
he’s observant;
he notices when something’s bothering you before you even say it;
he’ll glance at you from the side, place a hand on your shoulder, and say with that low, calm voice;
“you’re too quiet. what happened?”
unlike sting, he doesn’t tease for fun;
he likes shared silence, the kind of company that doesn’t need words;
if you’re reading together, walking, or just sitting under the sunset, he’s at peace;
his presence speaks for itself;
he has a very subtle sense of humor;
sometimes he says something so dry it takes you a few seconds to realize it was a joke;
and when you laugh, he smiles too — that small, almost shy smile that makes your heart race;
jealousy in rogue is silent;
he doesn’t confront, doesn’t make a scene;
but his gaze hardens — cold, firm — and his posture shifts;
he gets closer to you naturally, a hand on your back, his presence making it clear: “she’s with me”;
and later, when you’re alone, he might confess;
“sorry… i just don’t like when someone looks at you that way.”
he’s not big on public affection, but in private, he’s gentle, calm, and deeply attentive;
he likes running his fingers through your hair or tracing slow circles on your back while holding you;
sometimes he just watches you, as if he can’t believe you’re real;
“you know you’re beautiful, right?” he says, not looking away, and his tone is so sincere that you feel warmth rise to your face;
at night, he’s quiet but present;
he’s the kind of boyfriend who likes sleeping while holding you, his body warm, his breathing steady;
sometimes he pulls you closer in his sleep, unconsciously;
when you try to move away because you’re hot, he murmurs sleepily:
“stay… just a little longer.”
on bad days, he doesn’t try to fix everything;
he just stays;
holds your hand, runs his thumb slowly, and lets the silence speak for him;
“you don’t have to be strong all the time”;
that’s his way of saying “i love you”;
on the battlefield, he’s pure focus, but if you’re there, his attention shifts;
he trusts your abilities, but his gaze follows you the whole time;
when the danger passes, he always checks if you’re okay before tending to himself;
“don’t scare me like that again,” he says seriously, but his eyes soften when he sees you’re fine;
rogue’s love is mature and patient;
he doesn’t promise perfection — he promises presence;
he’s the kind of man who learns your heartbeat’s rhythm and adjusts to it;
if you need space, he understands;
if you need comfort, he offers it without asking for anything in return;
frosch is an essential part of the relationship;
when frosch likes you, it’s the ultimate seal of approval;
and seeing you two together is one of the few things that softens rogue’s expression;
“frosch likes you… and so do i,” he’d say, in a tone so simple and sincere that it makes the whole world slow down for a moment;
he’s the kind of boyfriend who won’t say “i love you” in every sentence, but will show it in every small gesture;
covering you when you’re asleep;
making you a warm cup of tea;
listening to you with genuine attention;
and whispering, when he thinks you won’t hear;
“i’m grateful to have you.”
loving rogue cheney is finding peace in the middle of chaos;
it’s discovering that silence can be beautiful, that care can be gentle, and that love doesn’t need to be loud to be immense;
he’s the eclipse between shadow and light — and he loves you with the calm of someone who wants to stay forever.
got you / cobra (erik)
wc: 83
during a fight, you slipped, almost falling from a dangerous height.
but before you could hit the ground, an arm yanked you back with force.
cobra caught you by the waist, steadying you against his chest.
“easy. i’ve got you.”
your breathing was quick, adrenaline still high.
he placed a hand on your back, his voice low and rough:
“i’d hear your heart falling before your body.”
you nearly fainted from embarrassment.
he smirked, hearing exactly that in your racing heartbeat.
