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Mirajane Strauss had decorated the guild hall for so many winters that her hands could do it without her brain.
Ribbon first. Lights second. Garlands third. Then the little details, snowflake cut-outs that Levy insisted were “more charming if they’re uneven,” a handful of ornaments that looked suspiciously like they’d been punched in the face by Natsu at some point in their history, and a wreath that always ended up slightly crooked no matter how carefully she hung it.
She liked that part.
Perfection belonged in catalogues and photo shoots. The guild belonged to people.
The hall was warm with noise even before the party truly started, Gray arguing with Elfman about whether the tree needed “more manly branches,” Cana already testing the drink supply with the solemnity of a scientist, Lucy sitting cross-legged on a bench making a list that would inevitably become a story outline, Erza doing an inventory of desserts as if she suspected sabotage.
Mirajane smiled as she looped a strand of lights around the beam above the bar.
“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Lisanna called from below, arms full of napkins and those little paper stars that always got stuck to someone’s hair.
“I’ve got it,” Mirajane said, and she meant it. “You focus on the tables. And keep Elfman away from the breakables.”
Lisanna laughed and spun away.
Mirajane finished the lights and climbed down, brushing glitter off her skirt. She’d chosen something simple today, soft sweater, long skirt, hair half pinned back. Not a “Christmas party dress.”
Not the polished, dazzling smile and flirt that used to be her armour.
She didn’t need armour at Fairy Tail.
Not anymore.
Not when she could breathe here.
The doors crashed open.
Mirajane didn’t have to look to know who it was. The sound alone carried its own signature, like someone had tried to enter a building by wrestling it into submission.
“WE’RE HERE!” Natsu Dragneel announced to the world.
The guild responded like it always did: someone cheered, someone groaned, someone threatened bodily harm.
Happy flew in immediately after him with a scarf dragging behind.
“Aye!”
Natsu trailed cold air and snowflakes as he stomped in, cheeks red, hair a little damp from melted snow. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and that familiar, bright, unthinking grin that made him look like the concept of “winter” was merely another thing he intended to fight.
“Mira!” he called, beelining toward the bar as if she were the only fixed point in the room. “Food?”
“You’ve been here five seconds,”
Mirajane said, and she couldn’t stop her smile. “Hello, Natsu.”
“Hi!” He leaned an elbow on the bar like he lived there. “Food?”
“Wash your hands.”
He pulled a face. “Do I have to?”
“Do you want Erza to hear you ask that question?”
He froze, glance flicking toward Erza, who was speaking to Jellal with an intensity that suggested she was outlining a battle plan for dessert distribution.
Natsu sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
He stomped away.
Happy hovered at the bar, tiny paws tucked behind his back like he was trying to look polite. “Hi, Mira.”
“Hi, Happy.” Mirajane slid him a little bowl of fish she’d been keeping warm.
“Don’t tell him I bribed you.”
“Aye!”
He took off.
Mirajane watched Natsu go, a quiet fondness spreading through her chest.
It wasn’t new, that fondness. She had watched him grow from a restless, reckless force of nature into… well, a slightly less reckless force of nature with a deeper kind of loyalty. She’d seen him mourn. She’d seen him burn with anger, burn with hope, burn with love for the people who made up his world.
And she’d seen him soften.
Not often. Not publicly.
But it happened.
He softened in moments he didn’t think anyone was looking.
It had been easier, once, to see him as the loud boy who treated the guild like a playground.
It was harder, now, to ignore the man underneath it.
Because Mirajane had a habit of noticing the things people tried to hide.
She noticed Natsu’s hands, for example, how he flexed his fingers when he thought no one could see, like he was carrying heat that didn’t always feel like a gift.
She noticed the way he scanned rooms automatically, as if counting heads mattered. As if making sure everyone was still there mattered.
She noticed that when someone looked tired, he offered food first. When someone looked sad, he tried to drag them into laughter, even if it came out as chaos.
She noticed how he was always the first to volunteer for the dangerous thing.
And she noticed, more and more lately, that he came to her when he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Not to ask for a job. Not to demand a fight. Not even always to eat.
Sometimes he just came to stand near the bar, lean close enough for her to catch the warmth rolling off him, and exist.
Like it was easier to exist beside her.
Mirajane didn’t know what to do with that thought.
So she kept decorating.
She reached into her box of final details and pulled out the last item she hadn’t hung yet, a small sprig of mistletoe tied with red ribbon, the kind that made people laugh and groan in equal measure. A silly tradition, a human thing that had drifted into the guild because
Lucy insisted it was “romantic” and
Cana insisted it was “funny.”
Mirajane turned the ribbon between her fingers.
She could hang it anywhere.
She could hang it above the doorway like last year, where it caught Gray and Juvia and resulted in a scene that still made Levy laugh.
She could hang it above the bar, where everyone would see it and complain.
She could hang it somewhere quieter.
Her gaze drifted to the side corridor near the back, where the light fell softer and the noise thinned. A place people drifted when they wanted to breathe.
A place Mirajane sometimes drifted when she wanted to think.
Her fingers tightened around the ribbon.
It was mistletoe. It didn’t have to mean anything.
But it could.
Mirajane walked toward the corridor before she could talk herself out of it.
By the time the party truly started, the guild hall was a riot of sound.
Someone had started music. Someone else had started a snowball fight indoors using magic and a complete disregard for property. Mira didn’t ask who; she had a list of suspects, and most of them were currently laughing too hard to deny it.
She moved behind the bar, handing out hot drinks and small plates and the occasional “no, you may not set that on fire” warning.
Natsu came back from washing his hands, triumphant as if he’d survived a battle.
“I did it,” he announced.
“I’m so proud,” Mirajane said dryly.
He grinned and leaned over the counter, eyes shining. “Food now?”
She slid him a plate of warm rolls and a bowl of stew, because she wasn’t cruel.
He inhaled it with the focus of a man whose entire life mission was to defeat hunger.
Mirajane watched him eat and found herself smiling without meaning to.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Cana asked suddenly, popping up beside Natsu with a drink in hand.
Mirajane’s smile snapped into something more neutral. “Am I?”
“Yes,” Cana said, too pleased with herself. “You’re doing the soft smile. The one that means you’re thinking about something you don’t want to admit you’re thinking about.”
Natsu paused mid-bite. “What?”
“Nothing,” Mirajane said quickly.
Cana leaned closer. “Mira.”
Mirajane arched a brow. “Cana.”
Cana held her stare for a long beat, then shrugged like she’d decided to file it away for later. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
She wandered off, laughing at something Lisanna said.
Natsu returned to his food, but Mirajane felt his attention flicker toward her.
He didn’t ask.
He rarely asked direct questions about feelings. He’d rather pick up on them the way he picked up on everything else, by being around them until they made sense.
Mirajane wiped down the counter, hands steady. “Are you having fun?”
Natsu blinked like no one had ever asked him that. “Yeah.”
“Just ‘yeah’?”
He chewed, swallowed, and shrugged.
“It’s the guild. Of course I’m having fun.”
Mirajane’s chest warmed. “You’re allowed to say more than that.”
Natsu frowned slightly, like he was trying to find words that didn’t fit comfortably in his mouth. “It’s… good.
Everyone’s here. It’s loud. It smells like food. And there’s… decorations.” He gestured vaguely above his head as if the concept of festive ambience required physical proof.
Mirajane laughed softly. “That’s a surprisingly detailed review.”
He looked pleased with himself. “I’m good at reviewing things.”
“You’re good at eating things.”
“That too.”
He ate another roll, then glanced past Mirajane’s shoulder toward the corridor.
“Why is it quieter over there?”
Mirajane’s heart gave a small, traitorous jump. She kept her face calm. “Because not everyone wants to be in the middle of the noise.”
Natsu’s eyes narrowed like the idea intrigued him. “Like you?”
Mirajane opened her mouth, and stopped.
Because the answer was complicated.
Because yes, sometimes she did want quiet.
And sometimes she wanted quiet because in quiet, she could hear her own thoughts.
And lately, her thoughts had been dangerously full of Natsu Dragneel.
“Maybe,” she said softly.
He stared at her for a moment too long, then stood abruptly. “Come on.”
Mirajane blinked. “Come on?”
“Quiet,” he said, as if that explained everything. “For a minute.”
He took her wrist, warm, gentle pressure, nothing forceful, nothing demanding, and tugged her around the bar before she could protest.
Mirajane let him lead her.
She didn’t tell herself it meant anything.
But she didn’t pull away, either.
They reached the corridor and the sound dropped away, muffled by distance and wood and the way Fairy Tail’s noise always belonged to the centre of things. Here, the light was softer. The air cooler. The hallway smelled faintly of pine from the garlands strung along the beams.
And right there, above them, hung the mistletoe.
Mirajane stopped.
Natsu stopped a second later and looked back at her. “What?”
Mirajane lifted her gaze toward the ribbon.
Natsu followed her eyes.
His expression shifted, confusion first, then recognition of something he couldn’t quite name. “Is that… one of those things?”
Mirajane’s lips curved despite herself.
“Mistletoe.”
Natsu stared at it like it might bite. “Why is it there?”
Mirajane exhaled slowly. This was the moment she’d created, whether she’d meant to or not.
“It’s a tradition,” she said gently.
“Human. If two people stand under it… they kiss.”
Natsu’s face went blank.
Then his cheeks flushed, fast and bright. “Oh.”
Mirajane felt heat rise in her own cheeks and forced herself to stay steady. “It’s silly.”
Natsu’s eyes snapped to hers. “Is it- do we-?”
Mirajane’s heart beat once, hard.
She could make a joke. She could step away. She could say it didn’t matter, that it was only for couples, that it was meaningless.
But she was tired of hiding behind being “fine.”
She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.”
Natsu blinked at her, as if the idea of choice itself was new in this context.
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
And then, to Mirajane’s shock, he stepped closer.
Not with swagger. Not with teasing.
With the cautious certainty of someone approaching something fragile.
“Mira,” he said, voice lower than she’d ever heard it in the middle of the guild’s noise. “I… I don’t know how to say stuff right.”
Mirajane swallowed. “You don’t have to say it perfectly.”
He frowned, thinking. “I like you.”
The words were simple.
They were also enormous.
Mirajane’s breath caught.
Natsu continued, like he’d decided blunt honesty was the only path forward. “I like being around you. You’re… you’re calm. And you don’t look at me like I’m just… loud.”
Mirajane’s eyes stung. She blinked quickly.
Natsu’s hand lifted, hovering near her cheek like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
“Can I?” he asked.
Mirajane nodded once. “Yes.”
He leaned in… And stopped with his lips a breath from hers.
So close she could feel the heat of him, the steady exhale, the way he trembled slightly like he’d just realised what he was doing.
Mirajane’s heart hammered.
Natsu’s eyes flicked down to her mouth, then back up to her eyes, searching.
Mirajane didn’t move away.
So Natsu closed the last inch.
The kiss wasn’t polished. It wasn’t practiced. It was warm and sincere and just a little unsteady, like his hands didn’t know where to go and his heart was trying to climb out of his chest to meet hers.
Mirajane’s fingers curled into the fabric of his scarf. She held him there, not trapping, not claiming, just anchoring.
Natsu made a sound like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
Mirajane smiled into the kiss before she could stop herself.
When he pulled back, it was only because he had to.
His cheeks were still flushed. His eyes looked startled, like he’d punched through a wall and found sunlight on the other side.
Mirajane rested her forehead lightly against his.
Natsu let out a shaky laugh.
For a second, it was just them.
Then the corridor erupted.
“WHAT-”
Cana’s voice thundered from the hall like a warning shot.
Natsu’s head snapped up. “Oh no.”
Mirajane closed her eyes for half a heartbeat, resigned.
Footsteps pounded toward them.
Erza appeared first, eyes sharp. Then Lucy, mouth open in delighted shock.
Then Gray, who looked like he’d walked into the wrong timeline. Then Cana, grinning like she’d just won a bet.
“I KNEW IT,” Cana yelled, pointing at Mirajane like Mirajane had personally tried to cheat fate.
Mirajane’s cheeks burned. “Cana-”
Cana didn’t care. “You did the soft smile!”
Lucy gasped. “You noticed the soft smile too?”
“Of course I did,” Cana said, as if emotional observation was one of her many talents. “I notice everything.
Especially when it’s funny.”
Gray blinked slowly. “Natsu. You’re… kissing?”
Natsu bristled automatically. “Shut up!”
Erza’s gaze flicked between them.
“Explain.”
Mirajane opened her mouth, but Natsu
beat her to it.
“I like her,” he said, loud and clear.
The corridor went silent.
Mirajane stared at him, heart lurching.
Cana’s grin softened into something almost tender, like she hadn’t expected him to say it so plainly.
Lucy’s hands flew to her face. “Oh my god.”
Gray recovered first. “That’s it? That’s the explanation? ‘I like her’?”
“Yes,” Natsu snapped. “Is that not enough?”
Erza’s expression shifted, just slightly. Approval. “It is enough.”
Then she turned away, voice carrying down the hallway like an official declaration. “If anyone interrupts them again, I will personally remove you from the building.”
A beat.
Then Cana cackled. “Erza, you romantic menace.”
“I am not a menace,” Erza said without turning around. “I am a protector of guild harmony.”
Lucy linked her arm through Mirajane’s, eyes shining. “Mira. Are you okay?”
Mirajane’s voice came out softer than she expected. “I’m… yes. I’m okay.”
Gray looked like his brain still hadn’t caught up. “This is weird.”
Cana slapped his shoulder. “Everything is weird. That’s the guild. Drink about it.”
Happy zipped into the corridor late, eyes wide. “Aye! Natsu and Mira kissed!”
“Yes,” Cana said proudly. “And it was glorious.”
Natsu’s face went even redder. “Stop talking about it!”
Cana leaned in, entirely too pleased.
“No.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, dragged away by food, laughter, and Erza’s implied threat of violence. But not before Cana made one final announcement, shouted toward the hall:
“EVERYONE! MIRA AND NATSU ARE A THING NOW. BE NORMAL ABOUT IT!”
The hall responded with a roar of cheers and catcalls and somebody, probably Elfman, yelling something threatening about Natsu hurting his sister.
Natsu looked like he wanted to die.
Mirajane laughed, quietly, genuinely, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she didn’t feel like she was performing happiness.
She felt like she was standing inside it.
Natsu’s heart wouldn’t calm down.
It wasn’t like fighting, fighting made sense. You hit, you burn, you win, you lose, you get back up. Your body knew what to do.
This?
This was like walking into fire and realising the fire wanted you back.
He stood in the corridor with Mira, the noise of the guild party pulsing beyond the doorway. He could still feel her mouth on his, the warmth of her hand on his scarf, the way she’d smiled like she’d been waiting.
He’d kissed her.
He’d kissed Mirajane Strauss.
He’d done it in front of mistletoe like it was the most natural thing in the world, and now his brain kept replaying it like it was trying to memorise every second.
Natsu wasn’t stupid. He knew Mira was kind. He knew she was beautiful. He knew she was strong.
He also knew she didn’t get chosen the way she deserved.
People leaned on her. People smiled at her. People thanked her for being “so sweet,” “so supportive,” “so patient.”
They didn’t always ask what she wanted.
Natsu had never been good at asking, either.
But he was good at knowing.
He knew he felt better when she was near.
He knew the guild felt steadier when she was behind the bar, smiling like she could hold everything together with a gentle word.
And he knew, absolutely knew, that when he kissed her, something in him finally stopped running.
He didn’t have words for it.
But he didn’t need them.
He looked at Mira now, her cheeks still pink, her eyes bright like she’d been laughing. She looked… softer. Not
weaker. Just, unburdened.
Natsu swallowed.
“Mira,” he said, and his voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
She looked up. “Hm?”
He struggled, then decided to do what he always did: be honest.
“I’m not gonna be… weird,” he said. “I mean-I’m gonna be me. But I won’t-” He gestured uselessly. “I won’t make you sorry.”
Mirajane’s expression shifted, gentle but serious. “Natsu… I’m not sorry.”
He blinked. “You’re not?”
“No.” She stepped closer. “Are you?”
Natsu shook his head immediately. “No.”
She smiled. “Then we’re fine.”
Natsu stared at her like she’d just solved a problem he’d been punching for years.
“You’re really… fine?” he asked, quieter.
Mirajane reached up and touched his cheek lightly. “Yes.”
Natsu leaned into her hand without thinking.
The touch felt dangerous, in the sense that it made him want to keep it forever.
“You’re warm,” Mira murmured, amused.
“I’m always warm,” Natsu muttered.
“You’re also very red.”
He scowled. “Shut up.”
Mirajane laughed again, and Natsu felt something in his chest unclench.
“Come on,” she said. “We should go back in before Cana decides to announce it again.”
Natsu groaned. “She’s the worst.”
“She’s loud,” Mirajane corrected, fond.
Natsu gave her a look. “You like her.”
Mirajane’s smile turned wickedly mild. “I do.”
Natsu snorted.
And then, because his body moved before his brain could sabotage him, he reached out, took Mirajane’s hand, and laced his fingers with hers.
She looked down at their hands, surprised, and then her fingers squeezed his.
Natsu felt the squeeze all the way to his ribs.
“Okay,” he muttered, half to himself.
Mirajane tilted her head. “Okay?”
Natsu’s mouth twitched. “Okay.”
The party ran late, as Fairy Tail parties always did.
At some point, the music got louder. At some point, Gray got dragged into dancing against his will. At some point, Cana started a chant about “Christmas miracles” that ended with her hugging Mirajane so hard Mirajane’s lungs protested.
Natsu hovered near Mirajane most of the night like he was guarding something precious without knowing how to say that’s what he was doing.
Every time someone tried to tease too hard, Erza stared them into silence.
When the last of the drinks were gone and the food reduced to crumbs and Happy finally fell asleep on a chair,
Mirajane began cleaning up.
Natsu, to his own surprise, stayed.
He didn’t bolt outside. He didn’t chase Gray into a fight. He didn’t fall asleep on a table.
He grabbed a cloth and started wiping down surfaces like he’d been doing it his whole life.
Mirajane watched him for a moment, warmth blooming behind her ribs.
“You’re helping.”
Natsu shrugged like it was nothing.
“You always do it. So… yeah.”
Mirajane’s hands paused on a stack of plates. “Thank you.”
Natsu glanced at her, awkward at gratitude. “Don’t.”
Mirajane smiled.
“Don’t thank you?”
“Don’t make it a thing,” he grumbled.
Mirajane stepped closer. “It is a thing.”
Natsu opened his mouth to argue, and then shut it, because she was right and he knew it.
The guild hall was mostly empty now, the decorations glowing softly in the dark. Snow tapped at the windows like the world outside was trying to whisper.
Mirajane leaned on the bar, tired but calm. “I didn’t… expect tonight.”
Natsu’s brows drew together. “Why not?”
Mirajane’s voice softened. “Because people don’t usually choose me.”
Natsu stared at her as if she’d said something impossible.
“What?” he said, bluntly. “That’s stupid.”
Mirajane blinked. Then laughed, startled. “Excuse me?”
Natsu stepped closer, hands fisting at his sides like he wanted to fight the concept. “It’s stupid. You’re you. You’re Mira. You’re-” He struggled for words, then frustrated, he just reached out and gently pressed his forehead to hers the way he’d seen couples do in stories
Lucy wrote. “You’re… the best.”
Mirajane’s breath hitched.
Natsu spoke against her, voice quiet and fierce. “I chose you. I’m choosing you. So- stop that.”
Mirajane’s eyes stung. She blinked it away, smiling small. “Stop what?”
“Stop thinking you don’t get chosen,” he muttered. “You do. I’m right here.”
Mirajane lifted her hands and rested them on his chest, feeling the steady heat beneath his shirt. “You’re right here.”
“Yeah.”
Mirajane rose onto her toes and kissed him again, slow, soft, unhurried.
Natsu melted into it like it was the first place he’d ever been allowed to rest.
When they broke apart, Mirajane
whispered, “Merry Christmas, Natsu.”
Natsu exhaled, eyes half-lidded, and for once his grin wasn’t loud.
It was real.
“Merry Christmas, Mira.”
And in the quiet glow of the guild hall, beneath garlands, beneath lights, beneath the mess and warmth of the place they called home, Mirajane Strauss felt chosen.