As per usual, everyone was unwinding from a heavy lunch, groggy from the Hell-worthy heat and the platefuls of barbecued meat. You and Sting were tucked away in the corner of the couch, your eyelids drooping every few seconds, taking turns nudging the other awake.

Mirajane handed out glasses of cold orange juice, which everyone was grateful for, politely asking Mirajane for seconds. She was in and out of the kitchen, refilling the glasses with inhuman speed that her experience as a barista back in the guild was responsible for.

You and Sting clinked your glasses together, some of the juice spilling on the couch, before taking a long sip, leaving both your glasses half-empty.

Mirajane repeated this action, not breaking a sweat, before everyone began returning their glasses half-full or a quarter full ; Mirajane entered the kitchen one last time, and when she exited, her hands were void of the tray and orange juice glasses and instead were neatly tucked behind her back.

"So," she began, "since you guys are refreshed now, I suppose this is the right time to make my announcement."

The word 'announcement' was no surprise, for the entire duration of our stay, the living room had become the venue for any announcements ranging from : "Guys! We ran out of cookies!" ( Happy ), to "How about we go swimming today?" ( Wendy ). It had become an unspoken given by this point.

"I have good news and bad news," Mirajane added.

Everyone sat a little straighter at the mention of bad news. "So, good news first, or the bad news?" Mirajane asked.

"Bad news."

"Well, I'm afraid that our stay in the beach house has been cut short. We'll be going home in two days." There were audible groans coming from the others in the room, mostly the boys. "There's a very important matter back in the guild, and Master Makarov wants to discuss it with all of us present."

"And what about the good news?" Gray asked.

"Well, in light of this very sudden change of plans, Erza and I have talked - and agreed, that tonight, we'll be hosting a small party at the lowermost floor of the beach house!" Mirajane exclaimed, "There'll be food, of course, and at the very end, there's gonna be a dance-"

Mirajane made it a point to send you and Sting a suggestive look. 

"-before we call it a night," she concludes, "y'know, one final shebang before we pack up our things and leave this place."

Mirajane clapped her hands together, "Well, the party starts at 8, and it's a quarter 'til four, so it's best to get yourselves prepared! Chop, chop!"

» time skip

Following Mirajane's abrupt announcement, the girls all stampeded to their giant, shared room and took apart their bags, looking for the perfect thing to wear. 

And after more-or-less a week in this context, it was hard to find clothing that was : a) not caked in sand, b) not drenched in saltwater and c) actually decent and appropriate for a party, much more a dance.

On the surface of your bed was a pile of shirts in assorted colors and the occasional baggy sweater, and the heap only grew more and more as you fished through the clothes you had worn.

After adding a pair of shorts to your pile of "this-isn't-going-to-work" clothing, you heaved a defeated sigh and sat beside your pile of clothes, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

The next few hours were going to be a handful, to say the least.

Two more piles of clothes, and plenty of sweat later, you went "Ah, screw it," and ended up borrowing a floral sundress from Erza, promising her that her sundress wouldn't disappear into a layer of sand by the time you returned it.

With your choice of clothing secured, you ticked one item off your mental list of things to do for the day, providing you with a bit of relief knowing you had one less problem to worry about.

» time skip

Ten minutes before eight o'clock, everybody had already filed into the lowermost area of the beach house, which was decorated with store-bought lights and round party tables that were topped with a long, silk tablecloth and a variety of cakes and drinks. Several other tables were scattered across the venue of the party, rounded with chairs.

You silently walked around, feeling so much more comfortable in your sundress and flats when you saw Natsu wearing khaki shorts and a shirt, the Fire Dragon Slayer had an empty glass in his hand, and he looked just about ready to get up and refill his glass.

You were looking for Sting.

And in the relatively modest area that only hosted a dozen people at most, which were all dispersed in different tables, the task seemed simple, but your husband was nowhere to be found.

You asked Lucy, who shrugged and went back to chatting with Wendy, and you asked Gray, who was just as clueless as you were concerning Sting's whereabouts. "He vanished about thirty minutes ago, guy hasn't popped up since," he told you, sipping on his drink after.

"God damn it, Sting," you cursed once you were alone again. 

"And what the hell did I do?"

Sting emerged, wearing baggy black pants and a white dress shirt inserted into his pants, with the sleeves bunched up around his elbows. The top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, with his collarbones peeking out of the shirt. He smirked at you.

You smacked his arm. "Where the hell were you?!"

"It's not important," he answered, before he took you by the hand, pointing to the tables with food, "come on, let's check that shit out before Natsu eats everything. I hear the cake's to die for."

» time skip

You and Sting sat at a table farthest from where everybody congregated, sliding the chairs so that they were juxtaposed, allowing you a view of mother nature after dark, vibrant and innocent to the touch of mankind. The waves, now a much darker hue, rolled against the shore, and every now and then, a small crab, whose moist shell shone with the aid of the moonlight, scampered around before burying itself in the sand.

A chilly night breeze was present, rocking the tree leaves side to side gently, and introducing the scent of the sea to the get-together, settling and mixing with the clinks of the glasses and the occasional burst of laughter as they slowly lost themselves in their conversation.

You and Sting were no different.

Your drink was still in your glass, reduced by a few lazy sips, while Sting refilled his own drink twice, always managing to down everything in a few gulps. He repeatedly told you that you looked beautiful, and each time you blushed profusely, shrugging it off with a laugh or with a spoonful of food.

"You not gonna finish your food?" Sting asks after he emptied his plate, once again. You looked at your plate, which was still as full as when you first set it down on the table before you pushed it over to Sting.

"You can have it," you said, "I already ate a little before the party." Eagerly, Sting picked up his utensils and dug into the food.

"Hey, wanna hear a joke?" Sting asked, his mouth full of half-chewed food. A scrap of meat rocketed out of his mouth and landed on the tablecloth, and you subtly flicked it away, leaving a small dot of sauce where the meat once was. You nodded eagerly, quite curious to see what kind of "joke" he could come up with.

"Knock, knock." Another scrap of meat went flying, and this time Sting was aware of it. Quickly, he chewed his food and swallowed, a giant lump getting forced down his throat.

"Who's there?"

"Eat."

"Eat, who?"

Sting smirked, and you feared for what he was going to say next. "You know what, baby? You look eat-tereal tonight." [ geddit?? eat-tereal, ethereal??? yeah, i'm gr8 at making jokes, keep reading now~ ]

You looked at him blankly, and he looked back at you. And it was silent. Your shoulders shook in a faux laugh, but not a single sound ever escaped your throat.

"Wow," was all you could say, with much needed sarcasm, after fifteen seconds of silence and staring. ". . .I'm surprised your vocabulary's that broad."

Sting shot you an offended look, his jaw dropping, and you snorted before bursting into laughter - and Sting, no matter how hard he tried to resist, couldn't help but laugh too.

» time skip

Mirajane clapped thrice, getting everybody's attention. She stood in the middle of the area, in a sleek, black dress. "Well then, since it's getting pretty late into the night, I think it's about time that the dance gets started."

After encouraging everybody to stand up and take their place on the makeshift dance floor, Mirajane waddled away and played a nice, slow song, and after a couple of awkward hip-sways and a handful of "Ow! That's my foot!"s, everybody slowly got the hang of it, and Natsu, in his drunkenness, twirled Lucy around mischievously, bringing their bodies dangerously close to each other, several paces quicker ( and naughtier ) than the other dancing couples.

"Yo, (Y/N)," Sting took you by the wrist, and there was a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, that looked more vibrant in the moonlight, or maybe it was the result of one too many drinks. "I wanna show you something."

And the two of you ran off, away from the slow song and the even slower dancing couples, and into a secluded part of the beach, where the only signs of human life were the footprints you and Sting left behind in the moist sand, and the soft giggles that carried out into the night sky.

Sting held one of your hands, his other hand resting on the curve of your hip, his blue eyes staring intensely into yours, as if that was the only thing you were supposed to pay attention to.

Suddenly, there was a loud squawk, and your head quickly whipped to your side, your eyes darting around in dismay. 

There was a hand on your chin, guiding your face gently until you were staring at Sting again. His fingers intertwined with yours again, and he began swaying your hips to the sound of the waves overlapping with each other. "Keep your eyes on me."

And you did.

Even when the sound of the waves grew louder, and the breeze picked up, occasionally ruffling the ends of your sundress - you only focused on the burning of his blue eyes, as he focused on the moist sand that was dotted with fragments of seashells, trying not to step on your feet.

Sting's eyes, the enticing blue of the ocean on a hot summer day, burning brightly with a collection of experiences that molded him into what he was. They had a tendency to crinkle whenever he laughed too hard, and involuntarily go half-lidded whenever he was bored or sleepy, which would reflect his listlessness perfectly. He would often get smacked upside the head ( ninety-nine percent of which by Rogue ) for that.

Those same pair of eyes looked down at you, smiling fondly, before he pulled you into a hug, gathering you into his arms, and holding you as tightly as possible. 

"God, I love you," Sting whispered, "I love you so fucking much."

You smiled sweetly from the cover of his white dress shirt, the collar getting whipped around by the wind and smacking into your cheek. You pull him even closer, standing between his feet, curling your fingers around his biceps.

And just as quietly, you utter your reply, "I love you, too," before you kiss him, with unbridled passion, and with unintended roughness, pouring every bit of immortal love that's been caged inside your mortal body.

Above you, the stars twinkled brighter, as if applauding you, casting more of their heavenly light down on you, and the entire scene certainly looked,

Eat-tereal.

x x

[a/n]: fuck guys i just had to do that ending i swear to god i've been pining over how to do that ending and i'm proud to say that i nailed it xDD

anyway, this reached 2000+ words, and this probably is the longest thing i've ever written in my short time as a writer, hope you guys like it!!

// next chapter's gonna be significantly shorter, but extra fluffy! //

- Acnologia_Slayer