#ft oneshot

[raijin-tribe]

Some of my favorite Raijinshuu panels from the latest Fairy Tail oneshot ~ drawn by Hiro Mashima himself!! Takes place right before the final chapter of Fairy Tail.

[katsukistofu]

claire de lune

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. 1.8k words — domestic fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ there’s nothing you and katsuki wouldn’t do for your baby girl, and that includes giving her the moon.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Yes angel?”

“I want that thing down!” Your daughter points above you with her tiny finger. The faint chirping of crickets can be heard in the distance, and tall, silken blades of grass tickle the both of your cheeks as you gaze upward at the vast periwinkle sky. 

A sweet smile spreads across your lips. “You want me to get the moon down?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Aw sweetheart, I’d get it for you but mommy can’t reach that high. Daddy probably can though.”

She pouts at this, and turns away from you to poke her dad who is on the brink of falling asleep again on the other side of her. 

“Dada!”

Katsuki’s eyes flutter open and he groggily faces her, head resting on his folded arms behind him. You bite back a laugh at the crumbs still decorating his cheeks. Sumi was trying to balance Cheeto puffs on his nose earlier before his nap. “What ‘sup bubba?”

She points at the moon again. “Get it down.”

“That?” Your husband covers his mouth to yawn, glancing up at the darkening sky. Sumi nods excitedly. “M’kay. Was thinking about it when you and mommy started lookin’ anyway.” He says it so casually, like getting the moon for her was a feat as simple as buying a carton of strawberries at the store.

“Yay!” Sumi cheers, and he chuckles when she struggles to slip her hand under his arm on the ground to hug it. Katsuki rolls over and she giggles, now sandwiched between the both of you as you hug her.

“Sumi, how about you wait inside while Daddy gets it for you?” You suggest. It was starting to get late. 

“Nooo,” Sumi whines. “Wanna stay here and watch.”

“You can have the last cookie in the kitchen’s jar.”

Sumi’s eyes brighten. “The bear one that looks like dada!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. The one with his grump grump face.”

“Who’re you calling a grump grump.” Katsuki scowls, secretly reaching over Sumi to give an affectionate pinch to the softness of your hip and you squeal. 

“Sumi, Daddy’s being mean to mommy!”

Sumi’s face matches Katsuki’s expression from before. “Stop that dada!” 

Katsuki slyly grins and withdraws his hand, masking his face into an expression that is the definition of innocence. With amusement, you note the little huff of pride he makes seeing Sumi’s tiny scowl, perfectly identical to his. “Mommy started it.” 

She blows a raspberry at him and wriggles out of his grasp, then gives the both of you pats on the head like you’re misbehaving puppies and finally runs off back into the house. 

“You two play nice!” Sumi waggles her finger with as much sternness as a three year old can muster before promptly shutting the door in your faces.

Katsuki meets your eyes with his and the both of you laugh on the grass, breathlessly clutching each other. 

“I wonder who she takes after more,” you muse between giggles. 

“Definitely you.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, bringing you closer to him with his arms snug around your waist.

“Whaaat? No way, I was totally going to say you.” You grin cheekily, eyes going almost comically wide when he kisses you hard on the mouth in response.

“Shut up.” 

“Kiss me again and I will,” you murmur dazedly and he chuckles, muttering something under his breath about you being insatiable despite leaning in to give you another one.

With how close he is, everything is soft eyelashes, the dull thudding of his heart beat synchronizing with yours as his firm chest presses against you, and the warmth radiating from his smooth skin, slowly seeping into your body.

Each movement of your lips brushes his mouth more and more against yours and even after almost a decade of being together, the feeling still makes your brain go fuzzy. All your thoughts melt away. It’s just you and him.

“Kats,” you breathe in warning. His fingers have somehow found their way under your sundress and they’re mindlessly tracing nonsensical shapes into the small of your back, his other arm still tightly wrapping you in his warm embrace. “I really, really need to go iron your suit for tomorrow. Plus, aren’t you supposed to be catching the moon right now, mister?”

“Just ten more minutes,” Katsuki murmurs against your collarbone and you shiver. His voice is still husky with sleep. “And I already caught the thing.”

“Really? Proof or you’re lying.” You raise a brow skeptically, and you should’ve known better than to doubt him when he actually reaches behind him, the wedding ring that he never takes off even to wear his hero costume glinting in the moonlight, to lift up a neatly wrapped up box with a little baby pink ribbon on it. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Katsuki grins proudly. “Found it after patrol last week with Eijiro.”

“It being…?”

“The moon.” He sets the box down in front of you. “It’s a night light, ‘cause I know Mimi’s scared of the dark.” 

“Aww Katsuki,” you coo, reaching out to caress his cheek. “That’s so cute.”

He blushes at the pure look of adoration in your eyes, and you can’t help but smile when he hides his face in your hair. “S’nothin’. Just getting the best for our little girl.”

Your husband grumbles when you let out that perfect, angelic giggle of yours and rest your hand on his head in response. He was so adorable. 

The way he’s acting is so similar to how you did at the beginning of your relationship all those years ago in high school, but it seems that as the both of you got older the tables turned and he was the clingier one now, much to the amusement of your classmates and the press when they managed to get ahold of you.

Katsuki lets out a low, content hum as you run your fingers through his soft hair. The both of you lay there, basking in each other’s touch and comfortable silence.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you when you were sunbathing on the beach this morning.”

Your cheeks are warm. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Katsuki smirks at your expression. “Sumi kept smacking me with her damn shovel when we were making sand castles. Stop staring at mommy, it's rude!” He says, mimicking your daughter’s scolding tone.

You laugh at his Sumi impression. “My girl was trying to teach you some manners!”

“Damn straight.” He grins against your neck, and your cheeks grow hot at the way his teeth lightly graze over your skin. “That’s why I said she’s more like you, mommy.”

Your stomach flips against your will and your cheeks burn as you smack his well-muscled chest. “Don’t call me that!”

“Hah? Am I hearing my wife being embarrassed right now, after everything we’ve done? After what we made together?” Katsuki teases. “When you’re talking to Sumi you call me dadd—“

“What’s taking you so long!” Speaking of the little devil, Sumi’s impatient voice floats down to the garden through the open window of her room upstairs. “I want my moon and bedtime story now!”

“We’re on our way, Sumi!” You call up. Katsuki reluctantly lets you pull away from his arms, and the both of you stand up to dust yourselves off. He groans as he cracks his back next to you.

“Don’t think we’re nursing home age just yet,” you say jokingly. Katsuki snorts and pinches your cheek for the jibe. 

“You’re lucky I’m still gonna think you’re cute when you’re in grandma diapers.”

“Wha—Hey!” You trail after him into the house. Damn his fast pace and his longer legs. He’s already up the stairs, the present box in his hand.

You reach the top of the stairs and head for the familiar light pink interior of Sumi’s room but stop in the doorway to coo at the sight before you. 

“Hey, squirt. Got the moon for you, just like I said I would.” Katsuki’s voice is gentle as he kneels on the floor to meet her sparkling eyes, and gently shakes the box in his hands before holding it out to her.

“Whoaaa!” Sumi eagerly takes it. “Thank you dada!” 

She raises her head and spots you leaning against the frame of her door. “Mommy look!”

“I’m looking, Mimi.”

“You and dada watch me open it.” 

“Okay, go ahead we’re watching.” Katsuki and you smile softly as she unwraps the present with care and she gasps, tiny hands taking the globe-shaped, moon night light out. It was decorated with realistic looking craters, and even came with a wooden stand to put it on.

“So cute.” Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “So pretty.” Then she tilts her head in the direction of her open curtains.

“Why’s she still up there though?” Sumi asks curiously, and Katsuki chuckles. Of course his kid is way too smart to be tricked by something like a night light. 

“Well we can’t actually take the moon away, sweetie. She has her stars to take care of.”

“Oh.” Sumi frowns, deep in thought, then perks up. “Mr. Sun would miss her too!”

“Mhm, that’s right.” You ruffle her hair playfully and she squeals. “That’d be like someone taking me away from you and daddy.”

“No!” Sumi pouts. “Don’t like that. Wanna stay with you and dada forever.”

“And you will, Sumi.” Katsuki pats her little head with his much larger hand in reassurance. “Mommy and I are gonna to be with you forever. Right mommy?”

You sigh, realizing he’s got you trapped. “That’s right… daddy,” you grit out, ignoring the victorious grin that causes his unfairly attractive dimple to appear on his cheek and you head straight for Sumi’s spot on the bed, taking a seat next to her. She leans against your arm, and you press a loving kiss to the top of her head. 

Sumi holds the night light out to Katsuki, who gently sets it down on her nightstand and plugs it in. It casts a soft, white glow, just like real moonlight on his face, and Sumi and you ooh and awe at it in appreciation.

“Can I have my bedtime story now?” Sumi pipes up.

“Sure, think it’s mommy’s turn to read.” Katsuki joins the both of you in bed, sliding an arm behind you. “What book were you thinking of tonight?”

“Le Peewee Prince!”

You giggle. “Le Petit Prince?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“Okay then. Come here and lay down, sweetheart.” You take the bookmark out from where you left off last time, the moon night light beside you illuminating the pages as you begin to read.

“Goodbye, said the fox.” You recite in a quiet, dulcet voice. Katsuki’s arm around your waist hugs you and Sumi closer, who snuggles up between you both, blanket tucked snug under her chin. Your chest warms at the sight, and you continue. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye…”

[e1ectricwords]

Caught in the Current

Laxus x Reader Modern AU Word Count: 3699 Innuendos, alcohol, drugs, party setting

Friday night. No parents home. Your sister left in charge. 

Of course this could only end in one way.

A buzz from your phone caught your attention, confirming your suspicions: “party tonight.” You didn’t put down the book in your hands, nor did you even respond to the message from your sister. Remaining in your position, knees up to your chest, sitting with your back against the wall on your bed, you merely nodded to yourself. Usually, you had no issues with your sister’s friends. Sure, they were odd in their own way but they were also all nice in their own way. All three of them were in their third year of university, whilst you remained in your first. Freed would often agree to tutor you if you ever found yourself confused on certain topics, and he would do this completely free of charge. Bickslow was easily described as eccentric. He would often turn up wearing sunglasses to hide his bloodshot eyes. Laxus was not bad to look at if you were being honest. You knew he painted himself in such a way so that people were almost scared of him, but you had also overheard him gossiping with your sister enough to know that he was far from anything scary. Their dynamic was strangely unique in a way that none of them looked like they should slot together, and yet they did. You liked being around them, feeling settled and accepted with them.

Parties however, you chose to avoid. Especially one of your sister’s parties.

Evergreen was a party girl at heart. She constantly spent money on fashion and makeup, and always felt the need to be the best which meant also holding the best events. Evergreen had claimed that this party would be lowkey, only a few friends, only a few drinks. You knew this wouldn’t be the case, this was never the case. 

Your phone buzzed again and you glanced over at the new message. Again, from your sister: “Help set up.”Groaning, you slammed your book down next to you and pulled yourself off of the bed. If you didn’t go down and help then you know she would probably send Bickslow up to annoy you. Most days, you didn't want to deal with that. 

There was a half-hearted cheer from Bickslow as you entered the kitchen. He was sitting on the countertop, an unlit joint in his mouth. He gripped the side of the counters, black painted nails visible. Laxus leaned close next to him, aimlessly scrolling on his phone. Only Freed was helping your sister set up, taking out snacks from bags and laying them out on the table. Evergreen tossed you a pack of balloons and told you to get started. 

“You joining us tonight?” Bickslow asked, words muffled from forming around the joint in his mouth. 

Shrugging in response, you responded, “I don’t know yet. I don’t think so.” Bickslow called you a loser, but it was said affectionately. You opened up the balloons, “who’s birthday is it?” 

“No one’s,” Freed answered. He continued with his tasks, not even bothered that he was doing most of the work. 

“Mirajane threw a party last week,” Evergreen started, pouring herself a premature glass of wine and continued, “for Elfy. For his birthday.” Bickslow and Laxus shared a look and mimicked how Evergreen referred to her boyfriend. Your sister just rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond to them. “She did such a good job for my boyfriend that I need to one up her with something.”

Laxus looked up from his phone. “Your boyfriend, but her brother still.” 

“So why do you need to throw this one?” You ask her, pulling out a balloon and stretching it a little, ready to blow.

“Come on,” Bickslow mumbled, holding a lighter next to his mouth. “You know she needs to feel popular.”

Evergreen scowled at him. She placed down her glass of wine and lunged over to slap the lighter out of his hand. Partially, his comment annoyed her. “Smoke in here and you know my parents would kill me.” 

Bickslow slowly lowered the lighter and removed the joint from his mouth. Instead he looked over at you raising a balloon to your lips and laughed. He clapped Laxus on the shoulder as he jumped off of the counter, “good at blowing, are you?” He quickly darted around Evergreen’s swatting hand, now pissed off at the comment aimed at her younger sibling, and slipped out of the backdoor to light up outside.

You finished up the balloons just as guests started to arrive. Some of them had clearly started early at home and turned up stumbling into the house. At least Evergreen had the thought to hide away anything smashable with sentimental value. It was rare that Evergreen rarely asked for permission from your parents to hold any sort of parties. Over the years she had honed her skills on how to eliminate all evidence that there even was a party. It didn’t take you long after finishing the balloons to quickly dart upstairs, taking some of the snacks with you. 

In your room, you quickly settled in. Curtains drawn. Soft lights on. On your bed with a blanket wrapped around you. The music from downstairs pulsated through the floor, only broken up with the sound of screaming and laughter. Your headphones quickly went on. Obviously you had attended a few parties in your lifetime, mostly alongside your sister, but the environment just was never for you. With your snacks on one side, drink on the other, and laptop on, you settled in for the night, quickly drowning out the drone from downstairs. 

The hours melted by as you lost yourself in what you were watching. All of the snacks that you had pinched from your sister’s party were long gone. Pausing what was playing, you took a moment to check your phone, perhaps if it was late enough you could conduct a recon mission for more snacks.

2am.

You blinked slowly at the time and put your phone back down. Pulling out your headphones you listened out for music. It was still blaring loudly, accompanied by the laughter of the attendees. No recon mission for you. As you went to put your headphones back in, your door swung open. 

Staring over at the door, you waited for something to happen. Sure enough, Laxus stumbled in holding Freed so that he wouldn’t topple over. Laxus paused. “This isn’t the bathroom?”

“What gave it away?” You asked, still sitting on your bed. You had changed into pyjamas, accompanied with fluffy socks. 

Laxus huffed and moved to sit Freed into your desk chair. Freed flopped a little. He had clearly passed out. “Lightweight,” Laxus commented, shrugging to Freed.

“I can see that,” you agreed. It was a well-known fact that Freed was often the first to pass out at parties. You were just surprised he hadn’t passed out before midnight; this was a new record for him. Laxus was clearly more than a little tipsy. He swayed slightly. Pupils dilated. “You were looking for the bathroom?” You asked.

“For him.”

“You thought the safest place for him was a bathroom?” You questioned, tilting your head to one side. 

“Yeah, what if he needs to be sick?” 

“Fair enough,” you moved your laptop to the side and removed your headphones. “For a second it looked like you were searching for a free room.”

Laxus let the words sink in and then rolled his eyes, “you are so immature.” He walked further into your room, letting Freed flop over onto your desk, fully asleep. He swatted at a few of the overhanging soft lights and fell down on the side of your bed. In a swift, but very poorly controlled movement, he swung himself over to his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Me and Freed?”

You laughed a little. “That’s what it looks like. Two people leaving a room together…going somewhere quiet.”

“You are so immature,” he repeated, once again rolling his eyes. “There’s only ever one way to deal with people like you.” His voice darkened and he pulled himself from the bed, moving across to now loom over your form. You fell silent, unsure just how this would go. Of course you had heard the stories from Evergreen. She would frequently tell you about the fights that Laxus would find himself getting into, usually always triggered by if he ever felt disrespected. He wouldn’t hurt you though…right? You were his best friend’s sibling. He knew you. He drew closer, now reaching out to grab you, his face as cold as ever. “And it’s to give you a taste of your own medicine.” 

He lunged forward, grabbing your wrist with ease and pulling you from the bed. Back pinned to his chest, you felt his fingers at your side. He was tickling you? Your laughter bubbled, spilling from you involuntarily. Shrieks fell from your mouth and you started to lose your breath. He let you go just enough for you to pull away from him but you stumbled and started to fall backward. Reaching out, you clutched at his shirt in a desperate attempt to stabilise yourself. Instead, you pulled him down as you fell back on your bed. 

Laxus steadied himself, propping his hands either side of his head so that he didn’t fall on you. The soft lighting overhead provided ambience, a glow that fell over both of you. Your words caught in your throat, a little startled at the position you now found yourself in under your sister’s best friend…with another asleep in a chair on the other side of your room. “What was that for?” You finally asked. 

“You’re immature,” he responded bluntly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at you. The scent of alcohol clung to him, mixed with the ashes and smoke of whatever else was being used down at the party. “You really think me and Freed?” He asked again. You shrugged in response and he shook his head, “now…me and you however.”

“You’re drunk,” you cut him off. Despite your quick words, you couldn’t help but feel a warm flush spread to your cheeks. Out of all of your sister’s friends, Laxus was always the nicest to look at and for some reason he never treated you like a sibling like Bickslow and Freed did. Maybe this was the reason why.

“I’m not.” He protested. 

You laughed out of utter disbelief. “You definitely are. Do the roadside safety test.” 

“Why would I do that?” He questioned, frowning. His voice was low, and a confusing mix between being velvet smooth and gravelly. 

Your volume had also dropped. There was no reason to speak at your normal tone when Laxus’ face was mere inches away from you, eyes locked on yours. “To prove you’re not drunk.”

He leaned in, hovering just above your face. “I could do something else to prove I’m not drunk.” He smirked slightly. Cocky bastard. In all your years of knowing him, you knew his reputation of being able to pick up anyone he wanted, and here he was trying it on you. A blush crept up to your cheeks, slowly burning away. It might just work… His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge this moment, and then his lips pressed against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you lost yourself in the sensation of him on you. The slight scratch of his stubble against your cheek, the mix of alcohol and his cologne seeping into the air around you. One of his hands made its way up to your head, slipping behind it to cradle you closer. Thick fingers tangled in your hair. His other arm slid under your waist, pulling you up closer to him. Tentatively, your own arms pushed upwards, loosely snaking around his neck. In one swift movement, Laxus changed positions, flipping you both over so that you were now on top of him, fully flush with his body. He broke away from the kiss first. “I won’t regret that in the morning. I’m not drunk.”

It took a moment for you to regain your full composure. Here you were, on top of one of your sister’s best friends, in pyjamas and fluffy socks. “You definitely are,” you repeated, softer now. 

Laxus rolled his eyes at you. His hands were still in both positions, one on your waist and one in your hair. “In that case, drunk actions are sober thoughts. Either way, I won’t regret this.” He pulled you in closer, capturing your lips against his once more. His touch and kiss was surprisingly gentle, not what you were imagining. It didn’t fit his persona, but then again he was full of surprises. 

Again, you found yourself lost to the sensations, oblivious to the world around you. Freed was still asleep at your desk, not that far away. The alcohol kept him in a deep sleep, his slow, steady breathing was the only sign of life. Footsteps neared closer to your bedroom door, not that either of you were paying any attention to the incoming sounds. The door flung open, crashing against the wall. Your sister and Bickslow stumbled in bringing with them a new wave of smells. Their giggling suddenly ceased and a stint of strange silence replaced it. Bickslow’s roaring laughter filled the silence, accompanied by shrieking from Evergreen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Evergreen yelled, her voice piercing the air. It caused Freed to jump awake at the desk, only to also swivel around to see what had his other two friends acting this way. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

The both of you stiffened, pulling away from each other. You moved with a bit more urgency, flipping yourself off of Laxus in mere seconds. His arm still remained around your waist, but he removed his other hand, now resting gently on his own chest. Your face filled with panic, paleing at the sight of everyone now suddenly in your room and at the rage on your sister’s face. Laxus, however, remained calm, albeit slightly annoyed that the two of you were interrupted. 

Bickslow continued to laugh. His eyes were bloodshot, a hazy smile plastered on his face. He was definitely stoned, seeing the humour in everything. “Let’s just take Freed with us and go.”

“Are you serious?” Evergreen spat back, turning to swat at Bickslow. He only laughed harder and dipped out of the way. Evergreen turned back to the two of you. “That’s my little sibling, Laxus!” 

He groaned in response. One leg of his was pulled up on the bed, propped up and bent at the knee. “You know about this, Ever.” 

Bickslow dipped across the verbal battlefield, grabbing Freed to rush him out of the room and somewhere else, most likely to the bathroom. Freed looked like he was about to vomit. Evergreen remained in the doorway, the light from the hallway cast her long shadow across your room. “You were serious about that?”

“Serious about what?” You questioned, interest piquing about the fact that the two of them had clearly had a conversation about whatever had just led to your kiss. You looked between both of them, who kept their eyes locked on each other. You half wanted to escape the room too, go and find Bickslow and Freed, but Laxus’ hold on your waist had you rooted to your bed. 

“None of your business,” Evergreen snapped back.

“All of their business,” Laxus retorted just as quickly. 

“What’s my business?” You asked once more. 

Evergreen let out a prolonged, dramatic groan. She pointed at Laxus, “he told me he liked you-”

“A few months ago,” Laxus added.

She glared at him and talked louder over him, “I told him ‘gross’ and to stay away. He never brought it up again after that. I thought he was just being stupid.” 

“A few months ago?” That was the only piece of information that you picked up on but then your mind backtracked through her words; “sorry, gross?”

Evergreen rolled her eyes out of pure annoyance. She was a force to be reckoned with when she was in a mood like this. In a few long strides, she stormed over to you, grabbing you by your wrist and pulling you from the bed with surprising strength. In her full party attire, she dragged you, in full bed attire, out of your room. The scent of alcohol clung to her, mixing with her favourite expensive perfume. She still held a glass of wine in one hand, miraculously avoiding spilling it everywhere on the carpet. Glitter glinted in her hair under the light of the corridor and she glared at you over the rim of her glasses. 

“What was that for?” You groaned, rubbing your wrist a little. 

She ignored you at first, turning to slam the door to your bedroom, effectively trapping Laxus inside, who in reality just looked exhausted with your sister’s outburst. His patience was thinning. “What was that?” She retorted in true sisterly fashion, her tone sharp. “You kissed him!”

“He kissed me!” You argued back. Both your voices were hush but harsh, spiking in places, trying so hard to keep quiet but clearly failing. 

Her expression darkened, her glare only intensifying. “That’s worse! You know what he’s like in relationships!” She grabbed your wrist again, pulling you down with her as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. It wasn’t gracious, it wasn’t composed. Very unlike herself, with her legs positioned straight out, she wrapped an arm around your neck and pulled you in close. “I don’t want you getting hurt,” she muttered, the sharp edges of her voice now soft. There was an awkward moment of silence. Evergreen finished her wine glass and set it on the floor beside her. The moment felt meaningful but was interrupted by faint noises from the bathroom, followed by some unhinged laughter. The two of you shared a look. “Fucking idiots,” she sighed. You let her words sink in.  She was actually being protective over you. Her head fell to rest on top of yours. 

The bathroom door opened and Bickslow stumbled out of it, leaving Freed inside, weakly hunched over the toilet bowl. He caught sight of the two of you and grinned, lurching over to join both of you on the floor. He shuffled in close beside you. “Nice cuddle pile,” he commented.

“Fuck off,” Evergreen responded quickly. Her tone was flat and unbothered.

“Freed’s been sick,” he added, entirely unfazed by her annoyance, as was usually the dynamic between those two.

“We heard,” you chimed in. 

“Still against the two of them, Ever?” He asked, his words laced with a teasing tone. 

“Fuck off,” she repeated again, even faster this time. 

This time, he took the dismissal to heart, forcing himself back up onto his feet with a dramatic groan. He paused for a moment, glancing between the bathroom door and your bedroom door, and then went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Silence attempted to settle, interrupted by the music still wafting up from downstairs. Despite the party dying down only a little, you knew that people were still down there. At least no one else had come up to whatever situation this was.

“How’s the party?” You asked your sister. Despite the factors that brought it into existence, just sitting with her on the floor was enjoyable and warming. 

“Still not better than Mira’s,” she groaned. “I don’t know how she does it.” A moment of brief weakness, she would never admit that anyone else was ever better than her. “People are still here at least.”

Diverting the conversation, you took advantage of her moment of weakness. “You’re really against him liking me?”

She let out a long sigh, picking up her empty glass to see if just maybe it had anything left inside. Putting it back down, she started to speak. “I’m not. But I know he gets bored and if he ever got bored of you then I might have to kill him.”

“Do you think he’ll get bored?”

“No,” she groaned. “He’s never liked anyone for this long.” Her perfume wafted up your nose, a bold but sweet scent. She pulled her head off of yours, sitting upright against the wall. “Go on,” she said softly, sliding her arm away from you. 

“Are you sure?” 

“You like him too,” she pushed your arm a little. “Go on.” 

It felt like a trap. Unsure what to do, you found yourself frozen in place until she nudged you harder this time. A little apprehensively, you pushed yourself up from the carpet and softly stepped to your own room. Your own sister crawled away, again very much unlike herself, and let herself into the bathroom to join the others. 

Your fingers curled around the handle, hesitating for just a moment before you slowly pushed the door open. Greeted by the soft lights hanging overhead, you stepped into your room, closing the door behind you. 

“Took you long enough,” Laxus grumbled, still laying on your bed. He had made himself comfortable, stretching outwards. He looked over at you under the soft glow of the overhead lights. “Resolved?”

As you sat on the edge of your bed, he pulled himself to a sitting position. “She said she’d kill you if you hurt me.” You turned your body slightly to face him and he caught your gaze.

“Resolved then,” he noted. Laxus reached out with a gentle touch, his fingers brushing against your shoulder, lightly curling around the curve of your arm to tug you closer. 

You dipped into him. “Are you serious about this?” You asked, gaze now at the carpeted floor of your bedroom, aiming to avoid eye contact, tone echoing that of your sister’s. 

“I said I won’t regret this,” he repeated. You felt his voice rumble from where you pressed the side of your head against him. His steady breathing grounded you in the dizzying moment. “You know I stick to my word.”

If you liked this, check out the Masterlist

[thewritingstar]

Reaching Out

Pairing: Gruvia (Fairy Tail)

Prompt: Love at First Sight (from my feb prompt list)

Note: hello divas, it was my birthday a few days ago, lol. And while I'm still working through those damn feb prompts (why did I think that was a good idea? who knows) I wanted to post this! One of my fav ships of all time. Now this fic is much softer and hopefully y'all like it. I feel like its not like traditional fan fic writing..idk, but I like it so im gonna post it lol. I'll stop typing but enjoy this cause I had fun writing it!! Much love to all love. Its short n sweet.

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The idea of love was almost a foreign concept to him. While he knew the laws of attractions, he didn’t believe his heart could do anything more than pump blood through his body. Magic could flow through his veins, but emotions became stunted when his heart was involved. 

A deep desire, one he would never speak out loud, would be to get rid of the ice shell around his own heart. To know that maybe one day, someone could find peace within him. It was a dream that he believed half-heartedly, like the fairy tales his mother used to read him. 

Maybe once, moons ago, he did believe in all that. Sometimes those beliefs get to be held longer by others, but for him, many things left him at a young age. It was easier to swallow the pill that love just wasn’t in the cards for him. Even as a wizard, there were some things that he couldn’t fathom. 

Love. It was out of reach. Grasping with the tips of his fingers, it always slipped through and suddenly, he couldn’t remember the last time he tried to reach out. There was no point. Only the fear that he would wind up left alone once again. It was safer this way. One more crack in the ice and he was terrified that he would drown. 

He wished he could tell his past self how wrong he would be. He wished he could tell himself how he learned how to breathe again. How the idea of something more kept him haunted in a way that he couldn’t comprehend. How a rooftop would become his holy land. 

The universe didn’t allow for confusion as she approached him. It was like there was a golden string attached to him and somehow, she had always been connected. Tugging over and over, he felt something shift within him. 

He knew himself better than anyone, and yet, this feeling…

It felt. 

New. 

Blue eyes met his dark ones and the world felt lighter. His heart was thumping to a melody he had never heard. A symphony he started to crave. A song he would have on repeat for the rest of his life. 

She was an enigma. He never was the brightest but he wanted to study her. To know why he felt this way. What could she possibly have that he needed?

During their first meeting, a battle he was certain he might lose, there was something new that happened and it caused a shift. Another crack in his ice and yet, somehow he wasn’t falling. There was no darkness to consume him but something utterly wonderful. 

The flushing of her cheeks when he spoke had sent his mind into chaos. She enticed him and he wanted more. In the deepest parts of his soul, parts that he didn't even allow himself to travel to, something erupted. A flicker of a flame that came from embers that were unsuspecting.

His throat was dry when she approached. A demeanor of coldness that rivaled his own. Her dark blue eyes captured him and threatened to hold his gaze until she said so. Power oozed from her and something made his spine straighten out.

For a moment, a belief he had doubts about, started to form. He wanted to push the thought away. He had been hurt, so accustomed to loss, that the idea of another leaving had overshadowed a good memory that could form. It was a momentary belief. Nothing more. Yet for the man who let life slip through his fingers time and time again, he made no hesitation reaching out to her. 

He had never moved faster. His legs pushing him and nearly sending him over the edge. His hand clutched around hers in a desperate attempt to save her. While to the outside world, he was clearly saving her, he didn’t know that she would salvage a broken heart. How reaching out to her would be the very thing to bring him back to life. 

Her eyes opened to the sky. An unfathomable sight bestowed upon her and her cheeks flushed from the light. Her pupils dilated like never before. Lips parted and a gasp escaped as if it had been locked inside of her for a thousand years. She couldn't take her eyes away from the heaven above.

Little did she know, his eyes couldn't leave her. He didn't know what it meant at that moment. What the sky and darkness had done to torment the woman before him. She was a stranger. Someone he didn't know, someone he shouldn't care to know. An enemy to his guild, yet…

He was wonderstruck.

A sky that he had seen a thousand times was nothing to be excited about. It was a part of life. Maybe a sunset could capture his attention, but bright blue? No. However, she looked at it as if a miracle had been performed. As if she had been in a desperate plea to witness a cloudless day.

He could see it all on her face. The smallest gleam in her eye formed and he saw it perfectly. The first spark of a fire coming from embers that had died years before. He knew it all too well. He should have extinguished them. Let himself not be drawn to a promise of something more. But he couldn’t. 

He laid on the rooftop watching her amusement to the sky before them. His frown deep and face unsettling. How much pain was she caring? How much suffering did she face to believe that this was a marvel of the world?

Perhaps he was selfish. To take something like the sky granted. Never again would that happen. For the first time, he didn’t think about the pain or the suffering. He didn’t think about how a dark ending could be in the future. 

But before the sky showed, his hand had been wrapped with hers. A slip from a puddle and she went to fall off. Her body followed gravity and he saw the painful look on her face. She was going to allow it.

She was willing to die. Willing to let it all go. Like a thread slipping out of its seam, once it starts, you can't stop it.

Maybe that's why he reached out. Because he knew what it was like to be lost in a maze you didn't know you were in. Constantly running from agony and hoping you don't fall further down. There's a bottom that few hit and can't climb out of. He had saw someone who was just as broken. 

Perhaps their shattered pieces could mend the others. 

The tug of her hand on his brought him into a reality he wasn't sure was real. Her eyes were bright and desperate. Her lips parted with words she couldn't find and just two eyes locked in each other. 

She had thought she was a goner.

He thought she was beautiful.

She had believed that the sky was bright but to him, she blinded him. 

His own words were lost as he pulled her to safety. He didn't say it then but he didn't want to let her hand go. A warmth that he never experienced flooded his palm. He had been met with fire before but this heat was burning him in a glorious way.

So he stayed on that rooftop much longer than he should have. He took her in. The way her cheeks lifted with her smile and creased her eyes. The way her breath staggered as she kept looking up desperate to memorize the sky in case it left again.

The fear was mutual. He took in the way her hair was curled tightly but slowly was losing its sharpness. Her hat, her doll, her dress, it was all being committed to memory in case they never saw each other again.

Desperate to make sure that this feeling he had was real, he reached out and drew her eyes away from the sky. It felt selfish to do so. The look on her face toward the sky was tender and soft, but the expression didn’t change when she looked at him. 

And maybe in a silly way, he thought that fairy tales could be real. That the books that once were read by his mother, were playing out in front of him. That maybe deep down, peace could be found between them. Love at first sight may not be the correct words for him, but there was something new springing to existence when he looked at her. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to hold onto this feeling. So when she came through the guild doors with a mark stamped to her thigh, the cigarettes didn’t have the same kick they did anymore. A new fix was found. 

He thought that maybe the nights they shared where they slipped away to the forest was enough to cure any injury he faced. Slowly, the disbelief and the cards were showing a new hand and he was willing to bet it all if it meant that he got to hold her close. 

For a man who didn’t pay attention to most, he knew what her favorite flower was. How she liked a darker blue compared to bright. How she liked to keep her hair down and secretly loved the rain. 

He knew every part of her in a way he didn’t know himself. He knew the touch of her hand on his arm when she laughed. The brush of their fingertips when they walked through town. The source of her smile on a boring day. He knew what songs she hummed in the shower and the imprint of her lips against his. 

So for the years that his heart was frozen and trapped, he made up for it by wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. For life could slip by all it wanted to, but he would hold onto her forever. 

Somehow, his favorite story became theirs. There was something poetic about his happiness being tied to hers. How a woman who could control the rain was also outshining the sun. He admired how a woman who had been feared for so long could turn out to be the kindest person he had ever met. 

So maybe Gray didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he believed in Juvia. She was like a new religion that he would dedicate his life to. He would give anything to make sure that the sky was clear and while many thought that he gave her the sky, she had given him the universe. 

He had vowed to become the man she deserved. Become the person where the pain doesn’t define him and his strength wasn’t just from his magic. He found himself one day walking up to her just like he always did. 

It was quiet at the guild and they were in the garden. She was talking about flowers, something casual. He had felt it. That melody in his heart, just like he did when they first met. The sun was engulfing her in a halo of light and while she talked, she looked perfect. 

Slowly, he took her hand. A red flushed her face as his other hand caressed her cheek. 

“Gray?” She whispered with eyes wide as the moon. 

All he did was smile before he kissed her. It was slow and careful as if he had been thinking about it for months on end. In his dreams, she was always found to the point that the nights would become restless. But right now? The dreams had faded away as he took in the real thing. He liked how he could feel her hand pressed against his chest and her eyelashes against his. 

He pulled away and his arm went around her on the back of the bench they were sitting on. Her face bright red as her voice started to go into a ramble. 

“Juvia can’t believe-”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Juvia?” 

Her voice faltered. “Yes?” 

“You make me happy.” 

Her own smile took over. She scooted closer to him. “You make Juvia happy too.” 

As the months of them together turned to years, the foreign concept of love became his expertise. She became the stars on his map. The sole reason for him to get up. In every aspect of his life, she was there. No matter where they were, he would always reach out to her. 

---

I hope that you enjoyed! Comments and likes/reblogs appreciated!

xoxo star!

[starlightingsss]

thundercloud (oneshot / drabble for laxus?!)

the way i lit cant keep up w my own series n drop it after one part..

ANYWAYSSD LAXUS SO FINE 😻😻😻

anyways so like stuff fr right!

sensitive reader x laxus BEFORE the battle of fairy tail but he has a soft spot for her

pls u guys its only like 350 words BUT I COULD WRITE MORE JS COMMENT FR 🙏🙏

"you don't like it?" she mumbled, her wide eyes filling with tears.

"gorgeous, that's not what-" laxus snapped, a little shocked at how quickly tears filled her eyes.

"i-i b-bought it because of you and i thought of you and i thought it was cute.." she sniffled, as she wiped her tears and hugged the thundercloud stuffed animal to her chest, the gift she had gotten laxus out of the blue. "and you've been in such a bad mood lately and-"

"yea?" he mumbled, staring at her, unsure of what to do. if it was anyone else, he wouldve belittled them - but it wasn't just anyone, it was her. and no matter how annoying she got at times or how sensitive she was, she was still always there for him, unflinching during his fits of rage, willing to take the lightning he sent at her in order to make him calm down. she wasn't necessarily strong but she was kind and she was sweet and she was loyal, and even if he didn't want to admit it - he loved her more than he could ever acknowledge, even if they were just 'friends'. "come here."

he gestured for her to come over, before instructing her to hand him the plushie and sit with him, letting her cuddle up to his chest, as he had his left arm around her and his right holding the plushie and examining it.

he scowled, before telling her that she was right, and the plushie was cute.

she smiled as they both adjusted their positioning, so that he was laying with his head propped on the arm of the sofa and she was laying on him, resting her head on his chest.

she soon fell asleep, with his hand resting on her back and her face in his chest. her soft snoring could be heard as laxus drifted into his own thoughts, content with his current position.

[xanvasofxords]

“If anything, you’re the biggest pervert here!”

“Me?!” Natsu snaps, smashing his forehead against Gray’s. “How am I a pervert when you’re the one getting naked all the damn time?!” The ice mage tackles him backwards with double force. The temperature around them simultaneously rising and falling because of the polar opposite magics clashing together.

Lucy assumes it’ll take her thousand years more to get used to them. Just when she thinks ignoring them is the ultimate solution, not even a feet away, a chair crashes into the floor so loudly that she drops her book with a yelp. A vein pops on her head.

“Cut it you two!”

The blonde complains, picking the book up and closing it to glare at them. There’s absolutely no way she can finish the novel like this. She hasn’t had the chance to read it in peace at home- thanks to Natsu and Happy messing around with her all morning. And now the two of them are trying to kill her!

Unfortunately, the boys don’t even spare a look at her as they continue with their fight.

“Oh yeah? Better than looking up a girl’s skirt,” Gray shouts while giving sideways glance to Lucy. “Or shoving a hand down her cleavage!” Both Natsu and Lucy turn their heads at the remark and for the first time in his life, the pinkette doesn’t seem to have any proper response to the raven haired mage’s insult.

Gray takes it as a sign of his victory and takes off his underwear with a shrug, standing completely naked. But nobody complains because the other two people are too embarassed to speak. There’s a long pause before Lucy clears her throat. Gray smirks at the pair.

[sweet--sweet--muffin]

"He wraps his arms around your tiny waist"

"He towers over you"

"He leans down to your height and kisses you"

"You have to stand on your tip toes to reach into his lips and kiss him"

Okay.

I genuinely have nothing against the writers who wrote fem!readers this way.

But y'all acting like Buff and Tall and Plus-sized female readers don't exist 😭

[ydsurluvhsm]

✧･ﾟ: finally wrote a cana x lucy fic and 9-year-old me is crying in the club :･ﾟ✧

cana/lucy was one of my first lesbian awakenings ever and i literally cannot believe i’ve never written them until now... but it’s here. it’s soft. it’s tender. it’s about braiding hair and maybe falling in love a little. pls read it and tell me if i should write more ;;

♡ title: untangling feelings ♡ pairing: cana alberona/lucy heartfilia ♡ ao3 link: untangling feelings - ydsurluvhsm - Fairy Tail [Archive of Our Own] ♡ summary: lucy teaches cana how to braid hair. cana learns how to braid… and also how much she loves lucy. oops.

it’s soft enough to be platonic. or not. that’s between you and the sapphic gods.

reblogs appreciated so other cana/lucy truthers can find this 🥺

[isacksteban]

Secret Wife — Strollini

Lance walked into the post-race press area, his face still flushed and his pulse still racing from the adrenaline of a hard-fought race. It had been a challenging one — full of tense moments, quick maneuvers, and a final sprint to the finish that left him exhausted yet exhilarated. As he stepped into the spotlight, he felt the weight of both his victory and the gaze of the assembled media.

But today, there was something different adding to the warmth on his face. In his arms, nestled comfortably, was his two-year-old daughter, Delilah. With a tender smile, he adjusted her tiny form against his chest. She clung to him with all the natural trust of a child, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his race suit as if it were a lifeline. Lance’s heart softened as he glanced down at her. Her wispy curls, so much like her uncle's — despite Delilah not being biologically related to any of them — were tucked behind her ear, but her face was partially hidden, pressed against his shoulder as she shied away from the bright lights and intense gaze of the cameras.

The sight of Delilah like this — close to him, unguarded and innocent in her reaction to this overwhelming world — was a rare treat for Lance. His life in racing was so fast-paced, so full of high stakes and tight schedules, that he seldom got to bring his family into this side of his life. He savored every second of it now, the feel of her soft, tiny hand on his shoulder, her hesitant breaths against his neck. It was one of those simple, perfect moments where the roles of racer and father blended into one, and he felt a kind of pride he couldn’t express in words.

As he approached the interviewer, who was waiting with a smile, Lance took a steadying breath and kept Delilah balanced securely in his arms. She shifted slightly, peeking out at the crowd with wide eyes before quickly hiding again, making Lance chuckle softly. Her reaction was priceless, and he couldn’t help but grin a bit wider.

The interviewer started, launching into the usual questions. They covered race strategies, the car’s performance, and his team’s dedication — standard questions that Lance answered with practiced ease. He talked about the long hours of preparation, the challenge of the track, and how proud he was of his crew. Delilah squirmed a little in his arms as the questions droned on, but Lance held her close, gently patting her back as he spoke.

Then, near the end, the interviewer’s expression softened, and he leaned forward with a warm smile, clearly ready to shift gears. He gestured at Delilah, his voice taking on a more personal tone as he asked, “And I have to ask, how does it feel to have such an adorable little fan here with you today? I’m sure your wife must be incredibly proud, seeing you out there with your little one!”

The words hung in the air, and Lance’s smile froze just a little. The question had been innocent enough, a friendly assumption that reflected a common misconception. In the eyes of the public, “wife” would have been a safe guess. But Lance knew the truth — and the truth was that it wasn’t a wife who waited for him after races, who laughed with him through long evenings, or who had given him the beautiful little girl currently in his arms. It was Luca, his husband, who knew him better than anyone and who shared in every high and low of his journey.

For a split second, Lance felt the urge to correct the interviewer, to tell him that it was his husband who was waiting for him today. But he kept his face relaxed, managing a warm chuckle to smooth over the moment. He replied with practiced ease, “Yeah, Delilah and… all of us are really happy after today.” He gave the interviewer a meaningful nod and a small, almost private smile.

It was a vague answer, careful but sincere, and it was enough. The interviewer nodded, seeming satisfied, and moved on to his closing remarks, wrapping up the interview without another question on the topic. Lance felt a wave of relief as he stepped back, holding Delilah a bit closer.

Once the interview wrapped up, Lance took a deep breath, the whirlwind of questions and flashing cameras finally fading away. He shifted Delilah’s weight slightly on his hip, feeling her settle back against him, her little arms clinging tightly to his shoulder. Her energy had relaxed, soothed by his familiar presence, and he couldn’t help but smile as he gently kissed the top of her head. Now came the best part of his post-race routine: retreating to the privacy of his driver’s room, where Luca would be waiting.

Navigating through the maze of hallways, Lance finally reached the door and stepped inside, feeling the tension from the day drain as he crossed the threshold. Luca was there, sprawled comfortably on the couch with one arm slung across the backrest, his lips curling into a knowing grin as he watched Lance come in.

“There’s my superstar,” Luca teased, patting the seat beside him. “And my little sidekick, of course,” he added, winking at Delilah.

Lance chuckled and set Delilah down. She wasted no time toddling over to Luca, her tiny steps wobbly but determined as she made a beeline for her dad. She reached up, demanding a lift, and Luca happily obliged, scooping her up into his lap as she giggled and tugged at his shirt.

"I caught that little interview just now," Luca said, unable to hold back his laughter as he wrapped an arm around Delilah. “So… your wife is really proud of you, huh?”

Lance let out a long-suffering sigh, though the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Don’t start,” he said, shaking his head as he collapsed onto the couch beside them. “What am I supposed to say, though? You know how they all assume…” He trailed off, spreading his hands in resignation.

Luca raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider as he leaned closer. “Ah, I think someone needs a little media training,” he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “If we’re going to keep fooling the world, we might as well do it right.” Neither of them were quite sure why they kept eachother a secret, some fans had caught on but they didn't feel as though they owed them anything besides a good performance on track.

Lance folded his arms, his lips twitching in mock annoyance. “Alright, go ahead,” he challenged, unable to hide the hint of intrigue in his eyes. “What do you want me to say when they ask me about my nonexistent wife?”

Luca’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “Alright, first rule: keep it simple. When they ask if your family’s proud, you just smile and say, ‘Yes, my family is so supportive.’ That way, they get what they want to hear, and you don’t have to lie.” He raised an eyebrow, giving Lance a playful wink. “But if they get nosy and start poking around… just flash that mysterious smile of yours and say, ‘That’s for me to know.’”

Lance let out a laugh, shaking his head in amazement. “You’re actually really good at this.”

“Of course I am,” Luca replied, crossing his arms with a smug look. “I’ve been playing this game with you for years. You could say I’m an expert.”

Delilah, who had been happily babbling to herself on Luca’s lap, suddenly clambered up to reach for Lance, her little hands outstretched as she called, “Papa!” She settled herself between the two of them, her small fingers wrapping around their arms as she looked back and forth between them, blissfully unaware of the conversation.

Luca’s expression softened as he looked down at her, his gaze filled with warmth. “Besides,” he murmured, brushing a stray curl from her face, “she’ll start answering those questions for you soon enough.” He leaned down, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “What do you think, principessa?” he asked her in a soft voice. "Dirai a tutti dei tuoi due papà?

Delilah just giggled, clapping her hands together as if she understood perfectly — their girl was smart so it wouldn't be too far fetched to assume she did — and both dads couldn’t help but chuckle. Lance looked over at Luca, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. Even though he couldn’t share this part of his life with the world, he knew he was lucky to have these moments, to have his family close, even if it was a secret for now.

He leaned back, resting his head against Luca’s shoulder, his eyes half-closed in contentment. Luca gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and for a moment, they sat there in comfortable silence, the three of them tangled together in a quiet embrace.

“You did great today,” Luca murmured after a while, breaking the silence as he squeezed Lance’s hand once more. “And when the time comes, when you’re ready… we’ll know just what to say. Until then,” he added, giving Lance a sly smile, “you’ve got your media coach here.”

Lance chuckled, rolling his eyes but feeling his heart swell with affection. “Thanks, coach,” he replied, brushing a quick kiss against Luca’s cheek. “Guess I’ll be practicing those answers… with my very proud husband.”

[leeseulss]

WHAT VAPES I THINK RED VELVET OWNS : red velvet (ot5)

# word count : 582

# content : don't like? don't read!, all jokes! don't take this seriously, vaping, smoking, remember everyone.. smoking and vaping is bad for you!, i've never vaped/smoked before but i thought this would be funny to write

# cast : bae joohyun (irene), kang seulgi, son seungwan (wendy), park sooyoung (joy), kim yerim (yeri)

BAE JOOHYUN (IRENE) : irene doesn't seem like the type to vape, but i can see her doing it. she doesn't own one but she’ll probably hit her members’ or friends’ vapes every once in a while. irene seems the type to take away the members’ vapes at a certain time (a vape curfew you could say) and get mad at them if any of them disappear or she smells it on them after curfew. she likes the fruity flavors like mango or dragonfruit, but she despises the lemon-lime and grape ones. she doesn't like it when her members or friends vape too much because she's worried for their health. like any typical mom figure, but she doesn't mind if you smoke or vape around her. (after all, she's guilty of vaping too.) seems like she'd be a smoker though. not addicted, but she goes through a couple boxes a year.

KANG SEULGI : seulgi seems like a mix of both. she smokes every now and then but also has a vape. i think she’d have a rechargeable one on her vanity. seulgi would like any flavor she could get her hands on. she's not picky. she makes her older brother buy it for her because she doesn't wanna get caught by fans or her parents. pays him at least ₩1000 each time. she’d have a squonk and her favorite cigarette brand would be something like raison or marlboro. she doesn't smoke or vape often, but often enough that her friends know she does it.

SON SEUNGWAN (WENDY) : wendy is neither. maybe a smoker every now and then but she likes to protect her vocals (and lungs). after all, she has a standard to live up to. smoking is a giant turn-off for her, she just hates the smell. which probably contributes to her dislike of it. she's tried a vape before but it wasn't good. alcohol is enough for her. it's a secret, but she likes the fruity vapes. she just likes the smell though. like irene, she honestly doesn't care if someone smokes or vapes around her.

PARK SOOYOUNG (JOY) : joy.. honestly seems like a big vape enthusiast. has a small box of them underneath her bed. joy seems like she's into the sweet dessert like flavors, but doesn't mind any. her favorite is anarchist withe, which is a graham cookie with marshmallows. she's like those teenagers that go crazy if they can't find their vape (even though she's rich enough to buy more). she's always out with the nct members whenever they smoke or vape. she brings her vape everywhere with her, except for when she has schedules or going abroad. she can't have people finding out that she vapes. one time she accidentally brought it with her to a schedule and irene found out and practically blew her ears off. (never doing that again!) it's a little crazy how much she vapes especially with how her vocals sound. 

KIM YERIM (YERI) : yeri’s not one to vape, but she hits joy’s every now and then. not that she dislikes it because she owns a few disposable ones, but because she finds it overrated and boring. yeri's definitely a huge drinker though. she’d pick drinking over vaping any day. but she LOVES the mint flavored ones. call her crazy, but she loves it. she hides her disposable vapes from everyone because she doesn't want irene to find out and yell at her.. kind of scared to do it sometimes because she doesn't want to overdo it and smell like a mint flavored vape and get caught.

[e1ectricwords]

You are my go to honestly, especially because of your Laxus stuff!!! Would love love love if you could write something else with Laxus! Anything really I loved your modern au it was so fun but I love like anything Laxus, Just preferably not angst!!! Sorry I’ve never requested anything from someone before! Literally just love your writing sm I hope you’re doing okay!💕

The Man, The Myth, The Misplaced Mage

Laxus x Reader Displacement AU Word Count: 6305 Bittersweet, heavy UK coded, fluff

The first thing to hit Laxus was the smell. 

Bursts of bold citrus and synthetic sandalwood. Loud and over-confident in the way it assaulted his senses. Whoever was wearing it had clearly bathed themselves in it and judging by the strength of the scent, had declared themselves the protagonist.

His nose scrunched. And his eyes cracked open. 

This wasn’t the guildhall. 

He was slumped back in a chair, arms folded in his usual fashion. Wherever he was, it was loud. Filled with laughter and screaming - by that factor alone it definitely could be the guildhall, but it wasn’t. This was off. It was too bright. Too put together. Too many people in bright pink synthetic hair - too many Natsus. Just one was enough. An eye twitched.

A flash of purple satin caught his attention. Paired with a grey fur-trimmed black coat. Suspiciously similar to his own. The figure stopped. Turned. Stepped closer. They looked too familiar in the most offensive way - as if Laxus was looking in a warped mirror. The body spray hit him like a crack of thunder to the chest. 

“Best cosplay I’ve seen all day,” the guy mumbled, nodding slowly in approval. Fake blond hair, ridiculously styled. Facial scar crudely drawn on in eyeliner that was clearly smudging under the heat of the fluorescent lights. “Both the best character though.”

Laxus stared. Arms still folded. “Character?”

The guy laughed, grin forming shortly after. “Respect for the method acting.”

Laxus didn’t respond. The guy shrugged and walked off, joining a small group - each of them badly trying to represent a member of his own team. Laxus tensed as he caught onto the tail ends of shouted conversations - some very passionate arguments about if Lucy was better off with Natsu, Gray…or Sting? 

He was in hell. 

It took him less than a breath to rise - fluid and controlled like his body had already decided before his brain could catch up. At full height, he could clearly see just how packed this place was. It was an ocean of people, all dressed like people he knew. Some of them taking photos, others laughing, dancing, fighting - it reminded him so much of the guildhall in spirit -  but it just wasn’t. He couldn’t stop the frown from forming. His eyes scanned the chaos, expression unreadable as he started to take long strides through the crowd that parted without question. It didn’t take long to spot an exit. 

The air outside was sharp and cold, but welcome. It hit him hard, pulling him back to reality. Laxus didn’t get flustered - emotions like that just didn’t suit him - but even he could admit this was weird. Weird by even Fairy Tail’s standards. And that had him on edge. He found a half-wall of orange brick and took a moment to lean against it, hands braced on either side. The brick bit into his skin in that textually nauseating prickly way, but he didn’t care. In fact, his fingertips curled slightly, gripping at the brick, anchoring himself.

Breathe in. Out. Focus.

Where had he been before the fluorescent lights and the smell of…whatever assault that was on his senses. His mind kept pulling blanks. He remembered faces. Faintly. The contorted, panicked faces of Freed, Bickslow, and Evergreen. Some shouting, one reaching for him. But nothing solid. 

Pushing away from the wall, Laxus exhaled slowly, cold air biting sharply in his lungs. Whatever was happening, he needed to sort it. And fast. 

He just started walking. 

He stopped a few moments later, just standing outside of a store window, looking in. You noticed him, of course. It had been a slow shift, as it always is working in a dusty old tech store where most people just buy things online now. Leaning over the counter, phone in your hand but not really paying attention to anything, you were just counting down the minutes until your shift ended. Fifteen. You had fifteen minutes left. So of course during a dragging shift, you noticed the man who looked way too serious to even attempt cosplaying. Tall. Broad. Just standing outside the store window, glaring at the phones on the display. 

Bell chiming, the door pushed open, and he walked in. 

“From the convention?” You asked, still leaning over the counter. You had seen them coming and going all day.

He cocked a brow, didn’t indulge. That alone made you stand a bit straighter. “I need to use that,” he stated, gesturing to the row of phones with a quick gesture of his head like this was an emergency and those weren’t just display phones. The devices looked a lot like the ones that Wakaba had invented, and as much as he hated to admit it, his invention had been useful. And now it might be his only way to contact the guild. “I need to call someone.”

“That’s generally what they’re used for,” you responded rather dryly, now standing fully behind the counter. Your own phone under your hand. “Is it just one thing you need it for?”

He wanted to retort, but he held himself back. “Yes.”

With a shrug and a bit too much blind trust, you flipped your phone over. “What’s their number? You can just contact them on my phone.”

The frown deepened on his face. “Number?”

Your eyes narrowed, and the corners of your lips twitched into a smirk. “A bit too committed to the character?”

He ignored your comment. “There is no number, I just need to contact them.” His presence loomed over you. 

Something about that tone, low and intense, made your smirk twitch and falter. “Are you okay?” Something just felt off. You had worked through your fair share of strange customers and petty thieves and this felt different.

“Fine.” He was not fine, but he would rather swallow glass than admit it.

Lips drawing into a thin line, you pulled your phone back towards yourself, flipping on the screen with ease. “My shift ends in ten minutes.” Tapping through and finding maps. “Where do you need to go?”

“Magnolia.”

You couldn’t help but blink at him slowly. “As in Fairy Tail’s Magnolia?” Again, he frowned and gave a curt nod. Biting your lip slowly, thoughts processing in your head, “you know that you’re not at the con anymore, right?”

“Con?”

“Convention.” You elongated. “You have a compelling cosplay, but -”

His expression shifted. Subtle, but unmistakable. No twitch of muscle, and his posture remained the same, but something behind his eyes drew tight. He tensed, and your own body mirrored his. Something in the air had changed. Your gaze dropped down to your phone - eight minutes left on shift. 

Something didn’t feel like an act. It wasn’t anything you could put a finger on, or anything you wanted to name out loud from fear of sounding crazy. He genuinely looked lost - and it softened something inside of you. 

Voice gentler now, “alright.” You shoved your phone into your pocket and tapped away on the till screen. “Let’s get going.” 

He studied you as you walked past him, holding the door open. And then slowly, he moved. 

Closing eight minutes early wouldn’t get you fired, but it definitely would make your manager want to have one of those stern chats with you. Shoving that thought aside, you’d spin some dramatic tale for them later on. Right now, your attention was solely focused on whatever the universe had dumped on your lap - a 6’4 blond tank dressed in furs with a resting glare that made people crumble from fear - and he was following you around willingly. 

Food had been your idea - obviously. You led him to your go-to place whenever you finished work and felt too drained to cook anything at home. It was a small chippy just on the corner of the street. On most days it was quiet and business kept running from their loyal regulars, of which you seemed to be a part of and you weren’t sure if that was an achievement or a sign to start re-evaluating your routines. Either way, the scent of salt and vinegar that perforated the air was comforting and you slid up to the counter with ease, quickly ordering for the both of you - just the chips for now. 

Trying to pay, however, had been his idea. He pulled out a wallet. Black leather, still new from how stiff it was, but it was packed. Opening it up, you could see just how many notes were stuffed inside, all neatly tucked away and organised. He paused as he looked down, pulling just one out. It caused the guy behind the counter, as well as yourself, to cock an eyebrow. 

“Sterling?” The guy serving asked. He sounded just as bored as you did at work. 

“Jewel.” Laxus - of course you knew the name of his character - responded curtly, not lifting his gaze up from the note. 

“Only accept sterling, mate.”

Laxus tucked the note back away into his wallet and you pulled out your phone from your back pocket, ready to tap it against the machine. It was a casual notion, but his eyes tracked it as if you had just spun magic before him. The server couldn’t care less, and you didn’t blame him one bit. Retail was testing on the best of days. 

“Jewel?” You asked, sliding into a booth in the corner, holding both portions of chips. Both seriously oversized for a small portion.

He only looked up after he had unwrapped whatever you had set before him. He was not used to this amount of grease and truly he had no idea how to deal with it. It didn’t stop him from digging in with his fingers - exactly as was intended. “Yeah. Jewel.” He nicked a napkin as soon as you collected them, wiping his hands between each and every new chip. 

“Who exactly do you think you are?” You asked, holding a chip dipped in sauce. 

“Laxus Dreyar.” His response was dry and laced with annoyance as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Where are we?”

“Earth.”

“Earthland?”

“No.” You paused. “Earth. UK. Do you seriously have no idea where you are?”

“If I knew then I wouldn’t be asking.” His response was blunt, and laced with hard hitting sarcasm. “Weird things happen just…not this weird.” 

Grabbing a napkin, you quickly wiped down the grease from your own fingers and tapped your phone on. “Siri,” you started. Laxus stared at the device, face blank but eyes untrusting. “Tell me about Laxus Dreyar.”

“Sure thing!” The feminine voice came from your phone. Stuttering in places, either trying to mimic human speech or just buffering on the poor signal. “Laxus Dreyar is a character from the anime and manga series Fairy Tail, created by Hiro Mashima. He’s an S-Class mage of the Fairy Tail guild and is the grandson of the guildmaster, Makarov Dreyar. He is known for his lightning magic and is seen as a powerful member of the guild.”

Silence followed.

“How does that know about me?”

You slid your phone back towards you, tapping through a browser with ease. Without saying anything else, you pushed your phone back towards him.

“Why am I 2D? I’m not a drawing.”

Exhaling, your fingers curled around your phone, drawing it back toward you. With a quiet tap, the screen went dark. “You’re a fictional character in this universe,” you explained. “That’s why you saw everyone else dressed as you. They’re fans.”

He kept your gaze for a few beats. Stern. Intense. It pinned you in place - made your shoulders stiffen. There was no way you could pass a lie test if you tried to say it didn’t make you squirm. “So you’re telling me that my entire life is just made up?” Dangerous. Your mouth dropped open to answer, but he cut you off quickly. Efficiently. “Bullshit. I made those decisions. I know what’s real.” 

A silence washed over the table, tingling with tension. You didn’t dare try to argue against anything he said, even if just to clear up what you meant - fictional in this universe. “I need to go to a magic store.” He dropped his napkin crumpled on top of his box of half-finished chips. 

“You won’t find anything like what you’re used to,” you tried to protest, keeping his gaze as he rose from the booth as you remained sitting. “Just tarot cards, crystals and-”

He cut you off. “Tarot cards. We use them.” A beat and then: “Let’s go.”

There was no way that you could protest. You stood abruptly as he was already halfway towards the door. With one last melancholy look to your chips that definitely would not reheat them well, you left them on the table and followed Laxus out the door. 

The store you walked into next was filled with a warm and welcoming scent. Deep. Earthy. It wrapped around your senses, whispering lullabies into your ear, coaxing your muscles to loosen and relax. 

The lighting was dim and deliberate, no harsh, cold fluorescent lights overhead, only pools of amber tucked away in corners. Shadows flickered against bundles of fabrics and dried herbs on the shelves. Fabric draped over every surface - purple woven rugs underfoot, black and white cloths thrown over display tables.

It wasn’t creepy. It didn’t turn you away. But it was definitely different. Dreamlike almost. You could appreciate the space even if it was something you might not always dabble in. Laxus’ presence didn’t settle in the space he stepped into. He felt like static in a still room. He hovered near the doorway, glaring at the products that his eyes scanned over, not believing in any of it. All of it was so unfamiliar. Nothing felt right. Under his breath, just to himself, he muttered, “place looks like Gajeel designed it.” It was a weary half-jab. He was still trying to orient himself in this universe with familiar names and faces. 

Not even ten minutes in, and he was back out the door. You sighed softly, thanking the shopkeeper despite not engaging in any sort of conversation, and followed him back out. 

Back against the wall, he murmured as soon as you walked out, “none of that was magic.”

“Some people use it,” you countered, standing just in front of him. 

“And does it work?” Sharp tongue. Tired. 

You fell silent for a moment and softly responded, “I’m not entirely sure.”

Cold air wrapped around the both of you. Laxus wasn’t annoyed at you. Far from it, but he kept his gaze away from you. You were the only person to offer any sort of help whilst he was in this hellscape - something steady and reliable even if only for the last few hours. 

He just had no idea how to deal with this awful pit of fear in his stomach that he refused to acknowledge. At this point he’d rather fight something physical. At least he’d know where to aim. 

A soft sigh fell from your lips. “Let’s go.”

“Where now?” He didn’t look at you. Tone weighted with frustration. 

“Too cold out here,” you said casually. “You can just crash at mine until you find a way to get back.”

And there it was again. That quiet, unwavering, blind trust.

You hadn’t hesitated, not once, to help him. It made him blink slowly and deliberately. Every offer to help just came naturally out of instinct. That fierce and foolish loyalty reminded him of the guild - reminded him of his home. Even your own actions had caught you off guard. This wasn’t how you had been trained to act around strangers. The classic phrase had been burned into your head since primary school - stranger danger. 

But to you he wasn’t a stranger. 

You had seen it all. Watched him stumble and falter under his own insecurities, watched him rebuild himself and the trust others had in him. You knew the guarded tenderness hidden under the temper, you knew the arrogance was a front, you knew how much he really cared.

You knew him.

Laxus didn’t know you. 

And he still went with you.

Your space is small and cramped, but yours. Distinctly yours in how you attempted to decorate it. Plants in colourful pots, wall art stuck on with those command hooks, stick-on tile backdrops for the kitchen. You had made peace with the fact that it would be impossible to get your deposit back if anything happened - like the time a command hook took a good chunk of wallpaper with it. The evidence is currently hidden by more wall art. Shamelessly hung up. 

Laxus seemed to fold in on himself as he entered, shrinking into the space. There hardly seemed to be any space to live. The kind of cramped space where the kitchen bled into the living space with no differentiation of flooring. One tiny wooden table was pushed against the far wall, paired with a lonely chair, and decorated with a pile of unopened letters. To his right was a narrow corridor with two extra doors.

You slumped back on the couch within seconds, exhaling as you sank into the comfort it offered. A fluffy blanket draped over the opposite armrest, neatly folded, used nightly. Laxus took a moment, taking in the space he now filled, and then he crossed the room to join you. The couch dipped noticeably under his weight. 

“How do you relax after a long day?” You asked. A small question. You couldn’t help it, not really, of course you wanted to know more.

“I hit things,” he responded not a moment later.

Your head rolled over the back of the couch, turning to look at him. “How do you relax in a healthy way?”

“It keeps me healthy.”

Eyes rolling, biting back the smile that dared to grow, you moved your head away. “You can’t hit anything here.”

A small pause. “Unfortunately.” He shifted slightly, extending his legs a little, legs stretching nearly the entire space between your couch and your IKEA TV unit. “What do you do?”

A small flush to your cheeks. Laxus Dreyar was talking to you. The whole day had felt surreal, but he was actually taking an interest. Once again, you pulled out your phone and tapped through to find an app. Videos started playing, short videos. He watched you as you left hearts, swiped, and left more hearts. “I just do this.”

“Nothing else?”

You gestured with your hands. “I read books, I go on walks for my stupid mental health, and I try to maintain my relationships.”

“Relationships?”

“Friendships.”

“Not just stare at this demon that called me fake?” His dry sarcasm didn’t grate on you. In fact, it caused you to laugh, just a slight slip. 

“I’m quite well-rounded.”

The conversation fizzled out as you both continued to watch on your phone. Laxus found it strangely relaxing, he couldn’t figure out why. Chaotic, yes, but intriguing. There were some videos of people he recognised, also drawn. And then he saw himself. A blur of clips, blended together, focusing on slow visuals of him walking, talking without audio, standing, all linked with a slow, sultry song. Your face instantly flushed a deep red and you attempted to swipe away quickly, but with instincts faster than lightning, he caught your phone and casually swiped back up. 

Laxus Dreyar was watching a thirst trap of himself. 

“These comments…” he muttered. “Why do they call me ‘daddy’? I don’t have children.”

With every cell in your body, you wished for the universe to smite you where you sat. 

He kept scrolling through the comment section, intrigued and deeply concerned. Muttering things he’s reading, “‘get a load of this guy’…’I’m trying’.” He makes a small noise in his throat as he processes that one. You sink further into the couch, hands covering up your face, wanting to disappear, or spontaneously combust. Either was a favourable alternative to living this moment. “‘Respectfully I want to climb this man like a tree.’” A low hum. “Interesting.” 

He placed your phone back next to you on the couch with an infuriatingly calm aura. 

“Do you watch that often?” Cocky bastard. The absolute audacity.

“I think I should go to bed,” you announced, standing suddenly like you wanted to bolt out of your own home and sign over the lease. “You can take the couch.”

Behind you, his smirk still lingered and he watched you disappear down the hall. The demon device had betrayed you, it was so clear that you were a fan. The flush in your features, the twitch in your fingertips, the way that you scuttled away way too quickly - it all exposed you.  Despite all of that, he still genuinely believed that you acted just on kindness alone, no ulterior motives.

Laxus pulled his boots off, setting them neatly beside the TV unit. Laxus’ space was starkly different. To begin with, it was much larger. Everything was bought new, and he preferred black leather and bright accents. His space was cold, this space was warm. Shrugging his coat off, he folded it up a few times with a rough precision and set it over the back of the couch. Stretching out didn’t work. His legs dangled off the armrest, his neck pressed awkwardly over the cushion of the opposite end. Too tall, too broad, he just didn’t fit. It ached already, but he still didn’t move. He reached for the blanket left on the side of the couch, draping it over himself for some sort of forced comfort. It smelt sweet, just like the scent that lingered around you. 

Sleep didn’t come easily. 

Even when surrounded by warmth and the quiet kindness that settled within you, the fear was still there. Quiet. Deep. Unmoving. He knew he was safe, but he had no idea how he was getting home. 

The second day. Still there. 

Breakfast was warm - toasted crumpets, too much butter, mugs of coffee. Comfortable silence. You had moved his coat to the hooks behind your front door when you had first shuffled through to the main space. He looked at you now, dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Satin slightly creased. Expression more tired than how he looked the night before. 

He sank the last drops of coffee. “Shower?” The question slipped from him as he placed his mug down on the counter. That’s where you ate, standing, both leaning on the side of the counter. It would feel too awkward to use just one chair at the table. 

“Just down the hall,” you responded with fluid ease, finishing the last bite of your overly buttery crumpet. “Towels are in the cupboard.” He was already heading down the hall. “I can wash your clothes if you want me to.” That one slipped out. 

He glanced over his shoulder as he crossed the short distance. “I’ll leave them outside the door.”

You gave him a few more minutes, sipping away at your coffee, still replaying the events of the day before in your head until they seemed real. As soon as you heard the water turn on, you moved to grab at the pile of clothes placed just outside of the bathroom door. Still warm. There was something strangely intimate in the very basic action of holding them, as if you were crossing some sort of invisible line. The thought faded and you scooped them up, returning to the main living space to toss them into the machine on the gentlest setting you had. And on the fastest setting you had. There was no way that anything you owned would be able to fit him.

Laxus Dreyar returned in a towel. 

You didn’t mean to look.

You looked.

Towel hung low, tucked into itself so it didn’t fall. Hair still damp, darkened by the water. A few strands clung to his forehead. Skin still glistening, warm and flushed from the steam, with droplets trailing down his shoulders - down his chest. A small line of water tracked down the trail of soft hair running from his belly-button down -

No.

Abort.

This was unfair.

You spun on your heels, opting to find the cupboard doors more interesting than anything else. It also doubled as an excuse to hide your obviously flushed face. If he could hear how loud your heart was thundering in your ears however, you were done for.

“You have seen a man before, right?” He asked, voice low. 

You refused to answer, remaining tight-lipped. The shrill beep of the cycle being done is your solace. Body reacting almost violently, you snap towards it, turning the dial to start draining the clothes. Silent praise on your lips, thankfully you had a good enough idea in the past to invest in a tiny tumble-dryer. He wouldn’t be in a towel for much longer. 

Shifting the conversation, desperate for something else to fill the room, you state, “I’m definitely going to get you back.”

“I know.”

Once he was fully dressed once more, you started to settle again. The idea crossed you earlier to call in sick to work - a vague excuse, a fake cough. Success. Everyday was a gamble, constantly playing with the promise of remaining employed. 

The scent of your fabric softener lingered on his clothes - fresh and floral. He seemed a bit lighter, less tense, but still not quite there. A quiet, and subtle comfort that he couldn’t quite place a finger on.

Settled back on the couch now, roughly midday. Cups on the side tables, rings sinking deep into the wood. Life was too short to care, and the rings showed life being lived. You wanted them to stay. Legs tucked up to your chest, blanket draped over your knees, your body angled towards him. Hand tucked under your chin, keeping your head up just enough. He stretched outwards, filling up the space with his frame alone. Arms crossed. He kept your gaze. 

Small talk had passed between you for a few hours now. It was easy, loose, soft words mumbled. Questions asked with no pressure to answer. 

“So how is life in the guild?” You asked, taking a sip of water from your glass. 

His response was blunt, “loud,” but there was a fondness tucked away behind his eyes. “Hard to find anywhere for some time to yourself.”

“But you still like it?”

“Never said that.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “Didn’t deny it either.” His expression didn’t falter, and he made no effort to correct you. “You know…” your voice added in a mere murmur. “For someone who almost tore the guild apart, you’re not bad company.”

“Nearly. Big difference.”

“Glad it didn’t work?”

A small pause. A very sure response, “very.” He ran a hand through his hair, shifting slightly where he sat. “The guild is full of idiots. And I used to hate it. But when those idiots would do just about anything for you it really makes every bad thought you had about them seem real stupid.” 

You hummed in response. 

“My idiots were there…when I came here.” A small exhale, his gaze faltered away from yours and his frown deepened. Your own eyebrow raised. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, memory betraying him. “Bick was reaching for me. The others…I think Freed was casting some spell.”

“You don’t remember what happened?”

He shrugged. “Everything was on track - a normal job. A fight…that’s all I really remember.” His jaw tightened, muscle twitching along the side of his face. A vein pulsed down the side of his neck.

You edged closer - slow and cautious. Your hand hovered for a moment, ghosting just over his knee, and then you let it gently rest on his knee. The contact made him jolt, but he didn’t pull away. “I’ll get you back.” It was the second time you had promised it to him on the same day, but you meant it, and he felt it, even if you both had no idea how that was going to be. Or how long that was going to take. 

The rest of the day ticked on slowly, only broken up by a short trip to the corner store for snacks, caffeine, alcohol, and anything that vaguely resembled a dinner. There was an agreement to remain close to the area where he had first appeared, just in case anyone came looking for Laxus. A thin hope hung over the two of you like something miraculous would happen and you were unsure if that was going to happen through some weird ripple in the sky or if Freed was going to jump out of a bin. Unlikely. Truthfully, you had no idea where to even start looking for a way to get him back. There was no way that you could google the solution and the only idea that you had - that was quickly banished from your brain - involved hooking him up to your car battery and praying that the insane amount of electricity would be enough to get him back. That idea was borderline insane.

So naturally, the two of you stayed inside under dim lights as the afternoon slipped into the evening. You had dug through your cupboards and unearthed a completely full box of wine - the cheap kind for £4 that came in a bag in a box. Struggle wine. It wasn’t glamorous, but it did the job. Paired with the premixed cocktails collected earlier, the sharpness in the air softened. Conversation flowed, and somewhere between the third canned cocktail (that he claimed to hate) and the fourth, you stopped talking to Laxus Dreyar the S-Class Mage of Fairy Tail, and just started talking to Laxus. A man with dry wit, sharp eyes and a guarded exterior, who was now sinking further into your couch and barely smiling at another dumb joke you made with a small flush of pink over his cheeks. A thought tugged at whatever brain cells were still working - what if this version was the same version that only those close to him got to see?

It triggered in your head, another clause in the mission to get Laxus back: don’t get attached.

You started to doze off on the couch a little past eleven. Too much box wine consumed in one go. Your head hit the side of Laxus’ arm - unintentionally of course. The tiniest of static shocks ran up his arm. A mumbled apology slipped from your slips and it took all of your energy to pull yourself back up. Body heavy, limbs just a bit too loose, you stumbled as you stood from the couch and his arm shot out just to hover behind you in case you fell. 

Swaying in one spot, trying to remember exactly just how your body is meant to work, he moved before your head could catch up. Two massive hands curled around you - one arm hooking under your knees, the other resting just under your shoulders. Without wasting a second, you were in the air, and your arms had instinctively curled around his neck. He was definitely not sober, but was holding himself together better than you could even attempt to. At least the journey to your bedroom was not a long one, and he made it there without accidentally letting your head hit the wall. 

The bed dipped slowly under your combined weight. His knee pressed into the mattress as he lowered you down, setting you on top of all of the covers. He wasn’t even going to attempt touching your clothes. Your fingers laced together behind his neck, he had to gently tug them apart. One arm fell straight down, colliding with the headboard, but the other stayed raised. 

Your fingers twitched slightly. Index finger extending, the rest curling back into your hand. He was close - so close. Face flushed from the alcohol. He twitched from the soft touch of your one finger, lightly grazing over the scar running through his eye. “You know…” the drunk confession started to slip from your mouth. “They really fucked up.”

“Who?”

“The animators,” you hummed, letting your arm fall back to the bed. “You have really pretty eyes. They don’t do you justice.”

That comment embedded itself into his brain, burrowing deep into his thoughts. He had returned to the couch, stretching himself back over the comfortable cushions to try and sleep once more. No comment on his scar, on his muscles, on his voice. A comment on his eyes. He had no idea how to navigate that. 

The third day. Still there.

Whatever you said to Laxus last night failed to preserve itself in your memory. Laxus didn’t remind you. If your reaction was going to be anything close to how it was when he watched that video, he’d rather not relive it. The static was slowly growing, he felt it in the air. Tingling. Buzzing. He kept his mouth shut. 

“So what is a phone number?” He asked. The question slipped out without any prompt. 

He remained on the couch, elbows on his knees as he hunched over to peer down at the table you had pulled out to put between you. The cards in his hands looked absolutely tiny. You kneeled opposite him, cards in your hand. Another day just the two of you, and uno had come up in a conversation. He was surprisingly good - strategic and relentless - but you kept consistently beating him. The only indication of annoyance was the way his jaw tightened whenever you saved a particularly rude card for him at the very end. 

Your head cocked slightly as you fanned out your cards to assess the best one to play. His question stalled you for a moment as you mapped out your next move. Down to four. “Well if you dial it into a phone then it goes straight to a specific person. No matter where they are”

Laxus looked down at his cards. Picked one up - now up to eight. “Do you think the same thing would work if I tried it from another universe?”

Your hand froze mid-motion as you went to pick up a card. Eyes flickering up slightly, meeting his gaze that was already pinned on you. “What’s wrong?”

“Static in the air.” He bluntly stated. “Lightning has a trace, a fingerprint. This is mine.” He set his cards down - covered so you couldn’t peek at them. 

He didn’t explain further than that. Didn’t need to. You chewed your lip slightly. “How much longer do you think?”

“Can’t say.” His tone didn’t falter, but his brows pulled in. He didn’t know.

Grabbing a pen and a card from a pile, you started to write on the white part of the card, right on the edge. In bold writing, as clear as you could write it, you placed a string of digits. Between two fingers, and capturing his gaze once more, you handed it over. “It won’t hurt to give it a try.”

That was your last game played before the evening pulled in. The stillness was charged, filled with an invisible static but also with words that hung heavy on your tongues without being spoken. It became impossible to get close to him without feeling some sort of shock. It banished you to the floor of your own home. Space rearranged after the last game, you sat with your back to the TV unit, perched on a soft pillow, whilst you let him remain on the couch. 

Twiddling with your fingers in your lap, half empty wine glass to your side on the floor. “Will you miss anything?” You asked, raising your head only slightly to catch his eyes. 

“Not the lynx,” he immediately shot back. He was sure the scent still lingered despite being away from it for a few days. He was sure that the scent would continue to haunt him in his dreams in Fiore. It earnt a laugh from you, one born of warmth, but laced with bittersweet emotion. You were entirely sure that this whole interaction would ruin your ability to ever watch an episode of Fairy Tail again. And that thought smashed into you as he followed up his previous comment, “I’ll miss you though.” 

It wasn’t dramatic. No heavy swell of emotion, just a quiet honesty. He always thought he would be the type to rather swallow glass than ever make himself feel so fragile.

Your body reacted before your mind could. Rising from your perch on the floor, hands flexing in your fists at your side. You’d brace a shock if it meant you could be close. But the second you stood, it ripped.

The air behind him tore open, jagged and ugly. 

One hand shoved through - slender and cuffed in a red coat - “Laxus!”

And then another in a metal arm brace - “don’t let the portal close!”

You stood staring. First at the portal, then at him. Heart lodged somewhere in your throat. Thunder in your ears. 

Laxus flinched. The drag from the portal was intense, curling around his ribs, snaking around his arms. The inevitable was here, now came the question of how long he could resist it. The couch moved, dragging over the hardwood floor. 

Your eyes locked. 

You had memorised every line of his face. 

Sure, the mission was a success - stay in one place and eventually you would get him back home. But the part of the mission to not get attached? Catastrophic failure. 

An awful strained silence filled the room, mixed with the bittersweet notion that this was always meant to happen. 

And just as quickly as Laxus Dreyar - the man, the myth, the misplaced mage - had dropped into your life, he had vanished just as quickly. 

Your apartment never felt so small and cold. And you never even got to say goodbye. 

If you liked this, check out the Masterlist

[shmothman]

heart-tell

Pairing: Ginko/Reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Words: 9624 Read on AO3

Summary: In the end, it’s—as it so often is—curiosity that kills the cat. The rumors were just too intriguing to resist: a village where, for years, too many women have been having babies every winter, where the population boom is unprecedented and the town is beginning to crumble under the weight of too many children. A passing merchant had shared the gossip, and Ginko had gotten that look he gets—a worried set to his mouth and brow; a slight glimmer of interest in his bright green eye.

[starlightingsss]

the story of us (laxus x reader)

angst no comfort oneshot for laxus dreyar bcs i 🫶 hurting my own feelings!!

wait but like to elaborate on the story! reader and laxus traveled tgth while he was exiled from the guild then they fell in love and did all the in love things u do!

as he rang the doorbell of the house - her house, he couldn't help but wonder what she had done with herself and her life since.

she definitely would look different - it had been 7 years, maybe she would act different? the house was pretty big, she was definitely well off. but other than that, he wasn't sure. he saw the tulips and rosebushes planted all around - her favorites, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

he felt like a silly teenager in love looking to get his dare for a school dance or something, maybe he should have brought her flowers.

as the door opened, he was brought out of his thoughts.

and there she was, in the doorframe, 7 years older and just as perfect as she was the day he left for tenrou.

she froze. he was dead, he had to be dead. but he wasnt, he was standing in her doorway - exactly as he was when he took off.

he opened his mouth to speak but she didn't gear any sound, her heartbeat sped up.

her wide eyes brimmed with tears at the sight of the man, he was there. he was alive, he was well - but he was late. too late. 4 years too late.

it was horrible when she thought she lost him, but it was worse now that he was back. it seemed as if her world came crashing down at that moment, the choice she knew she would have to make daunting and horrifying.

she loved him, so deeply. but she had missed him for longer than she had loved him, she had comforted herself with fantasy scenarios regarding him more often than he had comforted her, she had dreamed about him longer than she had lived in reality - running from what she thought was the truth, that a giant oversized lizard wiped out the love of her life and everyone else he cared about.

she had moved on, the original pain that plagued her heart had calmed to an ache in the back of her mind, but now it was back.

the inevitable choice, her husband or the man she told herself she would love for eternity? the man she vowed herself to under the watchful eyes of god or the man she had spent nights stargazing with, while daring to dream about their futures. the man who had picked her up and fixed her after she was shattered into a million pieces or the man who held her so tightly while her whole world flipped upside down and she was forced into his arms? fate seemed to be playing a cruel game, never letting her fully rid herself of him, bringing them back together at this time.

she was snapped out of her thoughtd at laxus's warm hand against her cheek, concern etched onto his face.

"oi, y/n?" he mumbled, caring - like he always was with her.

her tears fell over his hand as she wrapped hers around his wrist, removing it from her face.

then he saw it. her wedding band. snugly fit around her pretty fingers, as her tears started to make sense.

the realization that he shouldn't have come dawned onto him, his unwanted prescence doing nothing but bringing back pain filled memories for her.

it felt like a stab to his heart, he didn't blame her. he wasn't even really mad, nothing seemed to compare to the sadness that blurred his vision and filled his eyes with tears. as they both cried, yearning for the youthful freedom they had before this mess. before he was gone, before she was married, before it all when they were just 2 kids in love. before, when they had the audacity to dream, to dream of a fairy tale life, a perfect life with one other.

laxus plastered a smile onto his face, before asking "how have you been, n/n?"

his words rung through her ears, repeating a million times, as she couldn't think of an answer. she couldn't help it as she sobbed, leaning backwards into the doorframe, away from him.

his hand raised again, wiping her tears as they fell.

when she finally seemed to get a hold of herself, they had a conversation.

it wasn't long, she wasn't sobbing but her tears were still flowing. the kind of conversation between ex lovers, the "could'ves", reminiscent of their past, sadness in their tones. their conversation fizzled out, as their time ran out.

"my husband.. gets home in 15 minutes." she told him, hesitant. the whole inreraction felt like a fever dream, the worst.

"it was good to talk," laxus said, curtly as he plastered another smile onto his face - the kind that was so desperately. "goodbye, n/n."

"you know i hate goodbyes.." she mumbled, before leaning in for a hug.

"because 'goodbyes' are forever, like you'll never see them again." laxus whispered into her ear, as they hugged. in that moment, it was perfect, their bodies molded to each other, a perfect that she didn't want to lose. he pulled away, smiling at her one last time - geniunely this time, not a smirk, not one of those fake smiles, but one founded by his love for her, one for the love they lost. and she returned it, an "i'll love you until the stars stop shining, and the earth stops spinning," kind of smile, so genuine and so pure.

but she knew, it didn't matter. as he made his way down her front lawn, she knew the moment he left her driveway it was over. the greatest love she could possibly experience would be gone, the love of her life a stranger once again.

as he was about to leave, he turned, smiling at her again. she returned it, standing in the doorway of a house they used to dream of owning together, ready to go back to serving her husband the moment laxus left, their "childlish" love dead and gone for eternity.

how deeply she wanted to run, to sprint across her lawn into his arms, to scream to the world that she loved him and that she was his - forever, and endlessly. how she wanted to fix it, to hold him until she fell asleep and to laugh with him until her sides ahced, the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, that she was about to let go. no matter how deeply she wanted to chase him, to run into his arms, she couldn't. because they weren't just kids anymore. they were adults with lives, she was married.

[avantriskisser]

(too many games oneshot) torbek climbing onto chuckles because he's tired. im normal !!

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

This big boy took almost 14 hours (!!) which I think is about the longest I've spent on an art piece

[abandonthefort]

Kalasin and Sarai in Carthak

Sarai flees to Carthak because she wants to live and have a chance at happiness. Kalasin is sent to Carthak for her father's peace treaty, but she's determined to make the best of it. It turns out when you have two older sisters to ruling monarchs of their respective countries, they find out they have a lot in common.