#natsu

you look up from your drink. “valentine's day?”

“yeah, that. what is it?”

“natsu, it's literally a holiday about romance! of course you wouldn't know..." lucy speaks, continuing, “people get together... give each other gifts... go on dates... confess to their loved ones—oh my god what am i doing!? i'm single and sitting here like an loser! i need to look hot today to get a date! i gotta go!” she shrieks, running away to who knows where.

you laugh at the sight, waving her goodbye and wishing her good luck.

natsu just shrugs at her explanation, doesn't sound like he's missing out on anything, he thinks.

but then you're digging into your bag, and drop a pink bag onto his lap.

“what's this?” he blinks.

“just... some valentine's snacks,” you say, as casual as you can, “thought you'd like them.”

he opens the bag. chips. chocolates. candies. all wrapped in heart themed packaging. hell, even some heart shaped steaks were in here! those exist!?

you laugh at the way he's staring at it, “...you don’t have to do anything back. it’s just a little thing.”

he grins, like an idea just popped into his head. he turns to you, “thanks!”

you just nod, a small smile on your face, but there’s a tiny pinch in your chest. of course, he didn’t know... but you shrug it off. it’s natsu. you didn’t expect anything anyway.

the rest of the day passes normally. you head home that evening, unlocking your apartment door—

and freeze.

because it looks like a valentine’s store was robbed blind and dumped directly into your apartment.

there’s a mountain of gifts piled on your apartment floor—chocolates, plushies, balloons, cards, heart shaped boxes, a giant teddy bear that definitely came from a storefront display, and at least five bouquets with the price tags still dangling off them.

and standing in the middle of it all is natsu, hands on his hips, looking way too proud of himself.

“oh good, you’re here!” he says, like this is normal.

you stare. “natsu… what did you do!?”

“you gave me stuff,” he says, shrugging. “so i got you stuff.”

“you stole half of this!”

“yeah,” he says, completely unbothered. “but it’s for you, so it doesn’t count!”

before you can argue, he lifts something from behind his back—a giant cardboard sign, painted in red, letters uneven and messy, like he fought the brush.

“WILL U B MY VALINTIMES?” it reads.

“ya ya, i know,” he grins, puffing out his chest. “i’m the best.”

you snort—you can’t help it! it bursts out of you, loud and helpless, because this is so him. the misspelled sign and the fact that he clearly sprinted around town committing petty theft in your name.

he blinks at your laughter, a little thrown.

“what?” he huffs, cheeks tinting pink. “it’s good! the sign’s good!”

“well—”

“it is! so, will you!?”

“natsu...”

“...yeah?”

you chuckle, wiping your eyes from laughter, “you spelled it wrong.”

gray fullbuster - loves in the air!

the guild is loud in that cozy, chaotic way it always gets on holidays—pink ribbons hanging from beams, mira humming as she wipes down the bar, couples tucked into corners sharing desserts. it’s warm and bright and full of noise.

gray’s at his usual table, one leg stretched out, hair messy, shirt already gone like he forgot it existed. he looks relaxed, but his eyes flick up the second you walk in.

“hey,” he says, voice low, easy.

you sit across from him, setting your drink down. “hey!”

he watches you for a moment—not intensely, just noticing. he always notices. then he glances around the guild, taking in the decorations, the couples, the laughter.

“valentine’s really gets people going, huh?” he says, a small huff of amusement in his voice.

“yeah,” you say, smiling. “it’s cute!”

he nods, thoughtful. “did you do anything today?”

you shake your head. “not really.”

he hums, like he’s thinking about that more than he lets on.

“you?” you ask.

gray shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “i didn’t plan anything. didn’t really think about it.”

you nod, trying to keep your expression neutral. “makes sense.”

he tilts his head slightly. “you sound disappointed.”

you blink. “what? no, i’m not—”

“you don’t have to pretend,” he says gently. “i can tell.” he continues with a small smirk.

your breath catches, “i just thought maybe…” you trail off, embarrassed. “never mind.”

gray leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes soft in a way that makes your stomach flip, “i didn’t forget you,” he says quietly. “just didn’t realize you wanted something today.”

you look down at your drink. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not,” he says, standing up. “give me a few hours.”

“gray—”

“just… be home tonight,” he says, voice warm but firm. “okay?”

you nod, confused but curious.

he gives you a small smile—the kind he only uses when he’s hiding something good—and slips out of the guild.

you’re home that evening, curled up on your couch, when there’s a knock at your door.

you open it to find gray standing there, hair a little damp from the cold, cheeks pink, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to keep them steady.

“hey,” he says softly.

he holds something out to you—a small box, wrapped neatly in dark blue paper with a silver ribbon. simple and intentional.

“for you,” he says.

you take it, heart thudding, unwrapping it carefully. inside is a necklace—a tiny ice-blue crystal shaped like a heart, delicate and sharp and beautiful. it catches the light like it’s alive.

your breath stutters. “gray… this is gorgeous.”

he exhales, relieved. “good. i wanted it to be.”

you look up at him, and he’s watching you with that quiet, steady warmth he never says out loud.

“i didn’t want anything,” you whisper.

“if you say so,” he chuckles, stepping closer. “but i wanted to give you something anyway.”

your chest tightens, a smile on your lips.

he swallows, eyes flicking to your lips for a heartbeat before he meets your gaze again. “so,” he says softly, “will you be my valentines?”

“of course i will!”

his shoulders relax, tension melting away like snow in sunlight.

“good,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over the necklace. “because i already made plans.”

you laugh, breathless. “gray!”

he blushes, but he doesn’t look away.

“get your coat,” he says, voice low. “i’m taking you somewhere nice.”

gajeel redfox - anti-valentines!

the guild is already awake and loud by the time gajeel stomps through the doors, boots heavy, expression darker than the coffee mira’s serving. someone’s hung paper hearts from the rafters and he swats one out of his face with a growl.

“the hell is all this crap?” he mutters.

mira beams at him from behind the bar. “happy valentine’s day, gajeel!”

he stops dead. blinks once. twice.

“…it’s today?”

“mm‑hmm!” she chirps.

he grunts, unimpressed, and shoulders his way past a couple feeding each other cake like they’re in a play. he looks personally offended by their happiness.

you’re sitting at a nearby table, sipping your drink, watching him with a small smile.

he drops into the seat across from you with all the grace of a falling boulder.

“guild’s lookin’ stupid,” he announces.

you laugh. “it’s festive!”

“it’s tacky.”

“it’s cute.”

“it’s tacky.” he repeats, louder, like volume makes him right.

someone behind him giggles about their date. someone else shows off a bouquet. another is blushing over a handmade card. the whole place is warm and bright and full of love.

gajeel looks like he wants to chew through a wall.

“you don’t like valentines?” you ask, amused.

“don’t care about it,” he says immediately. “waste of time. waste of money. waste of—”

he stops.

because you’re smiling, but it’s not your usual smile. it’s smaller, quieter, a little distant, like you’re trying not to let something show. it’s subtle, barely there, the kind of shift most people would miss.

but he doesn’t.

“yeah.. thought you’d say something like that.”

his eyes narrow just slightly, jaw tightening, something sharp and unreadable flickering across his face before he looks away.

“whatever,” he mutters, grabbing a drink. “people get weird over dumb stuff.”

you hum in response, not arguing or pushing, just letting the moment pass. you take another sip of your drink, gaze drifting toward the decorations, and there’s something thoughtful in your expression. something he can’t name but can’t stop noticing either.

he watches you for a second too long before he forces himself to look away.

the rest of the day unfolds like any other. he’s picking a fight with natsu, complaining about the pink everywhere, someone scolds him. he pretends he doesn’t care.

you head home that evening, the guild’s noise fading behind you.

the next morning, there’s a knock at your door, sharp and impatient.

you open it, and gajeel’s standing there like he’s about to challenge you to a duel, arms crossed, shoulders tense, expression somewhere between annoyed and… something else?

“hey,” he grumbles, “you busy today?”

you blink, surprised. “uh… no, not really?”

he grunts, then thrusts something into your hand—a small metal rose, rough around the edges, uneven petals, clearly handmade, clearly rushed, clearly something he put more effort into than he’ll ever admit.

“good,” he says, voice low. “we’re doin’ somethin’. don’t make a big deal out of it!” he turns to leave immediately, muttering under his breath, leaving you standing in your doorway with a metal rose in your hand.

you smile, bringing the rose closer your chest.

“stupid gajeel...” you blush.

laxus dreyar - anything for you!

there’s a different kind of energy in the air today, something warm and bright and very romantic. the place decorated with soft lights and red ribbons, people are sitting down with valentines day gifts next to them, and even the rowdier members are keeping it down a notch.

you walk in expecting the usual.

you do not expect the entire left side of the guild to be transformed.

the tables are pushed aside. the floor is swept spotless. there’s a velvet rope sectioning off an area that wasn’t there yesterday. soft golden lights hang overhead, casting a warm glow over the guild. it looks like a high end restaurant teleported into the guild hall!

and standing in the middle of it, expression smug enough to punch, is laxus, with a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. he doesn’t look at anyone else. he’s waiting for you.

the second he spots you, his mouth curves—sharp and satisfied.

“’bout time you showed up,” he says, voice low, warm, confident.

you blink, stunned. “laxus… what is all this?”

he gestures lazily at the setup. “what’s it look like?”

“it looks like you rented out half the guild!”

“didn’t rent it,” he says, shrugging. “just told everyone to move.”

you stare at him. “and they listened?”

he smirks. “’course they did.”

you want to be annoyed. you want to roll your eyes. but the truth is… it’s beautiful. it’s thoughtful. it’s so over the top it’s almost ridiculous—and yet it fits him perfectly.

“why?” you ask softly, even though you already know.

he steps closer, hands sliding into his pockets, eyes locked on yours like he’s daring you to look away. “because it’s valentine’s,” he says simply. “and you’re not spending it with anyone else.”

your breath catches, smiling.

he tilts his head, studying your reaction with that lazy, electric intensity of his.

“you got a problem with that?” he asks.

you shake your head. “no! of course not. i just… didn’t expect this.”

“good,” he says. “i like surprising you.”

before you can respond, he nods toward the door.

“also,” he adds casually, “our ride’s here.”

“our what?”

he jerks his chin toward the entrance.

you turn—and nearly choke.

parked right outside the guild is a limousine. sleek. black. polished to a shine. it looks wildly out of place next to the guild’s wooden doors.

you whip back around to him. “laxus. what did you do!?”

he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “figured you deserved something nice.”

“this is more than nice!”

“yeah,” he says, stepping close enough that you feel the warmth radiating off him, “well… you’re worth more than nice.”

your heart stutters.

he watches your reaction, eyes softening just a fraction—barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it.

“so,” he says, voice dropping, “you comin’ with me or what?”

you swallow. “is this… you asking me out?”

he huffs a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough to make your pulse jump.

“i thought i made it obvious,” he murmurs. “but yeah. i’m askin’. will you be my valentines?”

“yeah!” you say softly. “of course, i’m coming with you!”

his smirk returns, slow and satisfied. he takes off his coat, wrapping it around you.

“good,” he says, offering his hand. “let’s go.” and as he leads you toward the waiting limo—in front of the entire guild, who are absolutely staring—laxus doesn’t look away from you once.

bixlow - a floating valentines!

he’s perched on the back of a chair, upside down for some reason, laughing at something one of his babies said. the floating dolls bob around him in a loose orbit, chanting nonsense and bumping into people.

“BIXLOW, CONTROL THEM!” someone yells, shrieking at the fact their messing around with their flowers.

“can’t!” he yells back, grinning. “they’re free spirited!”

you’re trying to enjoy your drink, but one of the babies floats over and pokes your cheek.

“pretty! pretty! pretty!” it chants.

you swat it away gently. “stop that.”

bixlow flips upright instantly, eyes locking onto you like he’s been waiting for an excuse.

“hey, dollface,” he purrs, sliding off the chair and sauntering over. “lookin’ cute today.”

you roll your eyes. “you say that every day.”

“yeah,” he says, leaning in, “but today you actually do.”

you shove his face away. “shut up.”

he laughs—loud and unbothered—and the babies mimic him, floating around your head.

“soooo,” he drawls, draping himself over the back of your chair, chin nearly on your shoulder, “got any valentine’s plans?”

you shrug. “not really.”

he hums, eyes narrowing playfully. “no one asked you out?”

“nope.”

he clicks his tongue. “tch. idiots.”

you snort. “you’re one to talk.”

“hey,” he says, pointing at himself, “i’m a catch.”

“you’re a menace.”

“same thing!”

you shake your head, amused, and go back to your drink, expecting nothing else, just bixlow flirting with you like he always did.

but then he snaps his fingers.

the babies scatter.

you blink. “what are they—”

they return a second later, carrying something between them—floating letters, glowing faintly, wobbling in the air as they struggle to hold them steady.

they arrange themselves in front of you.

“BE MY VALENTINE?”

you choke. “bixlow— what—”

he pops up behind you again, chin on your shoulder, grin wicked.

“cute, right?” he says. “they practiced.”

“you made them practice?!”

“yeah,” he says proudly. “took forever. they kept spelling it wrong!”

you laugh despite yourself. “oh my god.”

he leans closer, voice dropping, breath brushing your ear.

“so?” he murmurs. “you gonna say yes?”

you turn to look at him—his face inches from yours, eyes bright, grin sharp, but there’s something underneath it. something warm.

“bixlow,” you say slowly, “you could’ve just asked.”

“boring,” he scoffs. “this is better.”

you shake your head, smiling. “you’re insane.”

“maybe,” he says, smirking.

the babies bob impatiently, letters wobbling.

“well??” one of them squeaks.

you laugh, cheeks warm. “yeah. i’ll be your valentine!”

bixlow’s grin turns feral.

“knew you would,” he says, grabbing your hand and tugging you to your feet. “c’mon. i got plans.”

“plans?”

“yup,” he says, already dragging you toward the door. “and they’re all terrible.”

you groan. “bixlow—”

“you said yes,” he sings, “no take backs!”

the babies cheer, the guild groans, and bixlow looks like he just won the lottery.

sting eucliffe - presents for two!

the sabertooth guild hall is brighter than usual and absolutely drowning in valentine’s day energy. someone strung red lights across the ceiling, someone else is handing out heart shaped cookies, and rogue is already hiding in a corner pretending like he’s not apart of this.

you’re sitting at a table near the back, sipping something warm, trying to stay out of the whirlwind.

but the whirlwind finds you.

sting bursts through the front doors like he owns the place. which, to be fair, he does. he’s grinning, hair perfect, like he was straight out of a magazine cover.

the second he spots you and his grin gets even bigger.

“there you are,” he says, striding over like he’s been looking for you all morning. “i was wondering where my valentine was hiding.”

you blink. “your what?”

he plops down across from you, leaning forward on his elbows, chin propped on his hand.

“my valentine,” he repeats, slow and smug. “you know. you.”

you snort. “sting. you didn’t even ask me...”

“i’m asking now!” he says, waving a hand.

you roll your eyes. “that’s not how asking works.”

“sure it is,” he says, flashing that stupidly charming smile. “i say it, you say yes, boom—date night.”

you open your mouth to argue, but then you notice something behind him.

a massive, heart‑shaped cake. like, massive. like it took three people to carry it. pink frosting, gold accents, little sugar dragons on top.

sting follows your gaze and beams.

“oh, that?” he says casually. “yeah. that’s for you.”

your jaw drops. “sting. that thing is huge!”

“well, yeah,” he says, shrugging. “i had to outdo everyone else!”

“everyone else… where?”

he gestures vaguely around the guild. “everyone. all of them. every person who even thought about asking you out today,” he tsks.

you stare at him. “sting—”

“what?” he says, leaning back with a smug little smirk. “you deserve the best. and i’m the best.”

you groan. “you’re unbelievable...”

“thank you,” he says, like it’s a compliment.

again, before you can respond, he snaps his fingers, and someone at the door whistles.

you turn—

and two more sabertooth members are struggling through the entrance, carrying the biggest bouquet of white roses you’ve ever seen. it’s enormous, overflowing, practically glowing under the lights. wrapped around the bouquet is a long gold ribbon with shimmering letters:

“WILL U BE MY VALENTINE?”

you whip back around to sting. “sting… what is that?”

he grins, leaning forward, voice dropping just a little. “i got you flowers.”

you bury your face in your hands. “sting, you didn’t have to—”

“i wanted to,” he says, softer now, but still confident. “and i’m not letting anyone else get to you first.”

your heart stutters.

he grins, gently prying your hands off your face to hold them. “so,” he says, “you comin’ with me or what?”

you look at him—at the cake, at the ridiculous bouquet, at his stupidly hopeful smile—and you can’t help the one tugging at your lips.

“yeah,” you say quietly. “i’ll go with you.”

his grin is instant, triumphant.

“knew you would,” he says, tugging you to your feet. “c’mon. i’ve got the whole night planned.”

rogue cheney - a quiet confession!

sabertooth is softer tonight, like everyone collectively agreed to keep the chaos at a low simmer. sting is bragging somewhere, frosch is waddling around sticking heart stickers on people, and minerva is pretending she’s above it all while very much watching everything.

you’re sitting near the back, flipping through a menu, not really expecting anything from today.

and then a shadow falls across your table.

you look up, and rogue is standing there.

not awkwardly. he’s quiet, composed, eyes steady on you like he’s been waiting for the right moment.

“you’re alone,” he says softly.

you blink. “i mean… yeah?”

he nods once, thoughtful. “i thought someone would’ve asked you by now...”

you laugh lightly. “nope. guess not.”

rogue’s eyes flicker,  “good,” he murmurs.

you raise a brow. “good?”

he clears his throat, looking away for half a second before meeting your eyes again.

“i… need to show you something,” he says quietly.

you tilt your head. “okay?”

he gestures for you to follow him.

and you do, through the guild hall, past sting. who winks obnoxiously, and out the back door into the quiet training yard.

rogue stops near the far wall, glancing around to make sure no one else is there.

“i wasn’t planning to do this today,” he admits, voice low. “but… i didn’t want anyone else to get to you first.”

rogue stops in the center of the yard, turning to face you.

“i wanted to ask you something,” he says quietly. “but… i wasn’t sure how.”

you tilt your head. “rogue?”

he lifts a hand.

shadows gather instantly, rising into the air like ink suspended in water.

you watch, breath caught in your throat, as the shadows twist, curl, and shape themselves into letters: WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE? and then, at the end, the shadows form a tiny, fluttering heart, pulsing faintly like it’s alive.

your jaw drops. “rogue— oh my god! this is—”

he looks away, cheeks faintly pink.

“i wasn’t sure if it was too much,” he murmurs. “sting said it was dramatic.”

“sting says everything is dramatic,” you huff.

the shadow‑heart flutters again, like it’s waiting for your answer.

you step closer, smiling. “rogue… this is beautiful.”

he exhales, relieved, and reaches into his coat.

“i also… got you something,” he says softly.

he holds out a small object wrapped in dark cloth.

you unwrap it carefully—and find a shadowed hairpin, sleek and black with a subtle silver sheen. when you tilt it, it catches the light and glimmers like starlight trapped in obsidian.

your breath catches. “rogue… this is gorgeous!”

“i made it,” he says quietly. “it’s infused with a bit of my magic. it’ll never break. and it’ll always find its way back to you if you lose it.”

your heart flips. you look up at him—at the faint blush on his cheeks, at the way he’s trying to stay composed, at the shadows curling gently around his boots like they’re drawn to you too.

“rogue…” you whisper, “yes! i’ll be your valentine. this is so thoughtful!”

he lets out a breath he’d been holding, a small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“i’m glad,” he murmurs.

you tuck the hairpin into your hair, and his eyes soften even more.

“come with me,” he says gently. “there’s a place outside the city where the stars look like magic. i want to show you.”

you take his hand, and he holds yours like it’s something he’s been wanting to do for a long time.