you and him, akin to strawberry chapstick on cigarette smoke.
— content. reader x your favorite smoker! inexperienced!reader, a littlee bit of peer pressure, shotgun smoking, obsession on both sides, don't smoke kids no matter how sexy men are,,,
— notes. 1.7k words, am in the process of rewriting a ton of my old works, so apologies if you've read this before! i do think it's a lot better though! i originally wrote this with aki hayakawa in mind, but there are so many muses ... i couldn't keep my head on straight lol
"Smoking is bad for you, y'know."
Your colleague's eyes meet yours — he's removed a pack from his right pocket, and his eyes seem to gleam at the sight of you crossing your arms, pointed frown in disappointment.
It's just for a moment, though, before he shifts the pack to his left hand, pulling his coat open to procure a lighter from the inside of his other pocket.
"Didn't know I had a babysitter with me." He mumbles as he fishes a cigarette out, shoving the pack back into his blazer, "Did they pay you extra for that?"
"Very funny," you smile as your eyes shift between the lighter and the cigarette he holds, "Just make sure to invite me to your funeral when you die of lung cancer."
A snort. "If I'm dying at an early age, it's definitely not gonna be from lung cancer."
You watch as his fingers fiddle with the lighter; the cap already hinged up, his thumb scraping the gear across the other, sending flames lighting on and off again.
He glances up at you, and there's that gleam again. He doesn't look away this time, though —his eyes pierce you, and his tone comes out deliberate, despite how nonchalant he is.
"Do you want to try one?"
You blink.
It was all light teasing up to this point, but this actually makes you nervous — makes you feel like prey under his stare, makes you want to shrink away from how excited it makes you feel.
It's dark outside, and it's only the two of you on the rooftop of this building; that fact makes you startlingly aware of every action, every rustle of his clothes, every clang of the machines around you.
"C'mon, babysitter," he chides, the teasing lilt at the edge of his voice sending shivers up your spine, "Give it a spin. For me?"
(For him?
Doesn’t he know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him?)
"… This counts as peer pressure, you know."
"I’d say we're a little bit more than just 'peers',” he hums, “But whatever makes you feel better."
The heat on the back of your neck floods to your jaw, tensing as you debate the action of smoking a highly addictive cancer stick that you've been warned your entire life not to touch.
You know for a fact that he doesn’t care if you actually end up taking it, he won’t berate you or make you feel bad about it — he cares too much about you, and you think that might be the problem. Addictive, in the same way a cigarette would be.
He lights the end, and you catch a whiff of burnt tobacco. It smells of smoke and pine, tar and earth.
Stifling and coy, clinging to the air around you, and you come to the devastating realization that’s why you like the way he smells so much.
"Here, I'll go first so you don't have to."
You've seen him smoke cigarettes multiple times before, and still, you don't think you'll ever get used to just how attractive he is when he inhales — pursed lips wrapped around the paper, the way his chest rises, the muscle in his neck tensing.
Shit.
He’s beautiful under the reflection of the moonlight, beautiful as he blows the smoke out of his lungs, beautiful as he offers the stick to you.
Your fingertips graze against his as he hands it over, your skin tingling from his touch, your heart beating out of your chest as you bring it to your mouth. The man takes a step back — hair fluttering in the wind, sharp eyes seemingly studying your frame.
(He's so beautiful it hurts, and for a second, you think about what it might taste like to drown in him instead.)
So you inhale sharply.
Nicotine makes its way down your lungs, and you end up coughing almost immediately, dry hacks escaping your lips as you cover your mouth.
Through bleary eyes, you manage to see a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he has the decency to turn away, leaving you swallowing to gather the saliva down your esophagus — it helps, but your windpipe still feels bare and dirty.
You have to shake your head, laughing at how silly you feel.
"Get this thing out of my hands." You smile, embarrassed as you give the stupid thing back to him, “I don't know how you do it."
"It's probably better that you don't enjoy it," he affirms, before his eyes catch the edges of the top of the cigarette. There are wet streaks that line where your mouth was — wet, but not wet enough to be saliva.
He tilts his head, his tongue peeking out to his teeth, tone amused. "You're not wearing gloss by any chance?"
"Chapstick." You flush slightly, pressing your lips together as he takes another hit, “Strawberry-scented."
He hums, playfully breathing out a short puff of smoke into your face — you wrinkle your nose, waving your hand to blow it away, and he laughs.
"Want to try something else?" You watch his lips form the words, his eyes staring ahead to the moon that shines above you, the buildings whose lights slowly begin to flicker off as the day comes to an end.
Your mouth feels dry from the smoke. "You don't think you've been a bad enough influence?"
"Oh come on," his eyes flit towards yours, and you capture his full attention again. He's usually not like this — usually not this direct and certainly never this impulsive — it's just the effect you have on him, he assumes, that makes his uniform feel tight on his body, makes his feet automatically step closer to you. “Don't you trust me?"
Your heart thunders in your chest as he smoothly shifts closer, his body domineering over yours. Your hands grip the railing of the deck you stand on, watching as he maneuvers his hand right next to yours, turning his body so that he's right in front of you.
“Of course." Your lips move on their own, as if he just asked if the moon above you was gray or if flames lapping at your skin would burn — because of course fire burns and the moon reflects a silver light, and of course you trust him.
And he's so beautiful.
Beautiful as his lips quirk to a small smirk, beautiful as he lifts the cigarette to his lips.
The butt of the cigarette faces you, dangerously close to the skin between your eyes — you think it might be the sun, glowing a fiery and angry orange as his chest rises and he inhales, bits of paper crisping up to black floating down onto your clothes.
His chest stays taut as he leans closer, his lips only inches away from yours.
And that's that.
He breathes out, and you breathe in.
You don't cough this time — you can't with how overwhelmed it all feels — nerves short-circuiting with the scent of his cologne and breath far too close to you, his arms trapping you against the edge. It's bad how dizzyingly good it feels spasming in your chest, settling deep behind your heart. Your fingertips tingle as his hands lie flush against your own, heat emanating from every part of his body, fleetingly aware of how close you are to him.
(It feels like you've kissed the Grim Reaper, when all you want to do is kiss him instead.)
His fingers tighten their grip on yours at your expression, eyes struggling to stay open, heaving breaths of fresh air while his smoke as if you could ever cleanse him out of you, rid his stains on your purity, stop his lips from inching closer.
As if you'd ever want to.
Your hands grasp the collar of his shirt, and he lets out a muffled gasp of surprise as your lips connect with his. His lips are hot — it's actually warm from the cigarette — moving fluidly against yours.
They're chapped, his bottom lip more than his top lip, but you don't really mind, not with the way his hand cups your neck and his head tilts to the side, his jaw flexing as he kisses you like a man going through withdrawals.
His lips feel like liquid fire on yours, wreaking havoc where they spread, burning up your will to not consume him. You've always known he was a dangerous man, but this feels so much better than you could've imagined; he's greedy as he kisses you, hand cupping the back of your neck, muscle against your teeth.
His right hand drops the cigarette to reach for your waist instead, the burning smoke long forgotten when you're right there.
You separate your lips from his, a puff of warm air escaping your esophagus as he moves his head with yours, breathing heavily under hushed tones.
"Wasn't — hah — wasn't that more enjoyable than a cigarette?" Your thumb reaches up to his mouth, smearing the little bit of your chapstick to the rest of his lips, wet with saliva.
The sickeningly saccharine scent of strawberry invades his brain this way, the scent of you at the receptors of his neurons, shutting them down, making his heart all soft.
"Can we do that again?" His voice is lower and huskier, staring unabashedly at your lips. They're so smooth compared to his, pillowy and soft, the taste of your chapstick lingering on his tongue—fuck, he can barely think straight.
Your hand moves to his jaw, caressing his cheek. It's like he melts into you, his chin dipping lower, eyelashes fluttering, pupils staring up at you and awaiting your next command.
You smile.
"No cigarettes for two weeks."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
— Aki Hayakawa, Shizuo Heiwajima, Geto Suguru, Keishin Ukai, Shikamaru Nara, Hirotaka Nifuji, Sniper Mask, Gray Fullbuster, Loid Forger, John Price, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, Sanji, John Constantine, plus your other faves!
a/n: yeah i know half of these are ooc but i just love smokers … ← girl who has never smoked anything in her life
also genderbent shoko is definitely on this list >:)
ft. natsu, gray, gajeel, laxus, bixslow. sting, rogue
natsu dragneel - the guy who stole valentines!
everyone is buzzing tonight. beaming about plans and gifts and who's taking who where, and natsu's in the middle of it all, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed, looking like he's seconds away from falling asleep.
it's valentines day. everyone is booming about it. mira's giggling behind the bar, serving all the couples in the guild. someone groans about not having a date. someone else is teasing them.
you’re sitting next to natsu, and lucy's sitting in front of you two, blushing about how romantic today is supposed to be and how happy she is to see all the couples enjoying their day.
natsu just blinks, slow and unimpressed.
“whats valen... valen-whatever?” he asks.
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.
ᝰ.ᐟ YOU LOOK BETTER IN MY ARMS ANYWAY. → fairy tail
prompt. when they pick you up bridal style for no reason except they felt like it. ft. natsu dragneel, gray fullbuster, loke, sting eucliffe & gajeel redfox
warnings: none
you’re mid-sentence, talking to lucy about a job poster you saw earlier, offering to pair up together if she needed help, when you feel yourself being swept off the ground.
literally.
“HUH—!? natsu??”
“got bored,” he grins, arms tight under your back and legs. “you looked comfy, so i picked you up.”
natsu says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, walking around with you in his arms like it’s another normal tuesday.
you swat at his chest, flustered out of your mind. “you can’t just grab me out of nowhere and do this!!”
except he just laughs, leaning down to look into your eyes with that slight mischievous gleam he tends to have. “bet i can.”
gray doesn’t announce it. one second you’re arguing over what flavor of shaved ice to get, and the next—
“...gray.”
“yeah?” he replies coolly, holding you close as if bridal carries were casual.
your voice is muffled by the way you’re pressed against his shoulder. “what are you doing?”
“saving time. you walk slow.”
he’s lying. his smirk gives it away.
still, you say nothing, hiding your face against his skin as he walks like this was his plan all along.
“darling,”
you barely turn to respond to your boyfriend, loke, before he sweeps you up into his arms, spinning slightly.
“loke—!”
“i had a vision,” he says dramatically, as if that was good enough of a reason to carry you this way. “of me holding you like this. and when the stars speak, i listen.”
you blink, not impressed in the slightest. “you’re not even using magic right now.”
“exactly,” he winks, kissing your forehead. “this one’s just for love.”
you threaten to bonk him in the head, but your fingers are already curled into his collar to steady yourself.
he wins. as always.
you’re leaning against a railing, enjoying the peaceful view below you when suddenly you’re airborne.
“STING??”
“what?” the blonde shrugs, like it’s not weird at all. “you looked cute. i felt like doing this.”
your hands fist into his jacket. “you can’t just lift people outta nowhere when you feel like it—!”
“i’m your boyfriend,” sting grins. “i can and i will.”
and he does, parading you around sabertooth while everyone watches like it’s a daily occurrence for this to happen.
it most likely is.
“get up.”
“wh—”
too late. you’re scooped up like a sack of potatoes—but bridal style. you stare.
“...what the hell, gajeel??”
“shut up. you looked tired.”
“i was sitting.”
“yeah, and now you’re sittin’ in my arms.”
you blink.
gajeel looks ahead, ears slightly red and barely hidden underneath his black hair, lips pressed into a flat line.
“...you’re heavy, y’know.”
you know he’s lying.
but instead of saying anything, you lean into his shoulder—letting him get away with it this time.
note: more natsu because i love him + the others 👅
NATSU
was totally clueless in relationships before you. genuinely had no clue how to love someone romantically.
you had to show him what you liked, what you didn’t like, and how you wanted him to show love. he internalized your information and kept it dear to his heart.
he walked into the guild when you two made it official and stood on a table and said, “EVERYONE! I AM DATING THE LOVE OF MY LIFE” then went and sat down at the table with you and lucy.
he became SUPER touchy. hand on thigh, hand on arm, hand in back pocket. if he has a free hand, it’s on you.
hates fighting with you. tries his best to listen then reply instead of waiting for his turn to reply.
acts of service, physical touch, and quality time are his big 3 love languages.
he’s always so vulnerable with you. usually never tries to cry in front of others, but you’re different.
kisses you passionately after a scary job because he’s always scared one of you may not make it back.
he’s the type to come up behind you in the morning and put his hands up your shirt and hold your waist and nuzzle into your neck.
happy loves you and tries to steal you from natsu and natsu gets angry LOL.
GRAY
definitely was cold at first because he was scared to let someone get close.
he realized that you weren’t going anywhere so he warmed up to you.
he hates pda, but will hold hands and give a peck at most.
when you two got together he didn’t loudly declare to the guild like natsu but definitely showed them that he was taken.
told juvia that she needed to chill because he only wanted you.
not super touchy in private but definitely likes to have you in close proximity no matter where you two are.
he’s your personal ac in the summer and makes you ice pops if you truly want.
loves kissing your forehead in the morning and loves waking up next to you.
ERZA
was scared to come to terms with her love for you. because she too lost so many she held dear.
once she has you though, she’s NEVER letting go.
likes pda to an extent. like a kiss here and there, hand holding, laying head on your shoulder.
loves to bake for and with you. the type to wipe the whipped cream on your nose.
a little protective over you because she’s scared to lose you. acts like your arm got cut off if you get scratched in battle.
the type to squeeze you when you two hug JUST incase it’s your last time hugging.
she tries to not get jealous when lucy or juvia get close, but she does just a tad.
she can’t go to sleep unless you’re in bed with her. she needs to feel that you’re near her.
kisses all over your face whenever she gets the chance.
LUCY
oh little miss lucy knew she wanted you from the get go.
she put the moves on you quick.
probably exploded as soon as you said you wanted her back, she thought it was a joke.
loves loves LOVES physical touch. probably as much as natsu.
she loves showing you whatever new book she’s reading.
since she’s a writer she loves writing you little notes or love letters.
she’s also a big romantic, loves giving and receiving flowers and handmade gifts.
always hugging you because she feels so much comfort in your arms.
her spirits love you so much (taurus wishes he was you but nonetheless loves you)
lucy always tries to carry things you buy her with her all the time because it gives her comfort.
hates being too far from you. if you’re sitting a little too far away on the couch she’ll either whine until you get closer or she’ll move closer.
always wants your kisses, no matter where you two are.
i think you can guess which 2 characters i had more ideas in mind for
kisses!! Eeee you love kissing Gray all theee time and your little tsundare boyfriend he gets embarrassed every time because why are you smothering him!! (he gets so excited for every kiss he loves it)
“Gray, wait wait I need to bless you with my good luck/come back home safe kisses!!” You pat the spot next to you on the couch. “Come come!”
He groans a bit “I told ya I’m running late I gotta go” a small look from you is all he needs to sit down and listen to you. As you move closer to him he gently grabs you by your hips pulling you into him.
“Cmon baby I think you don’t need to kiss my entire face every time I go on a job” Gray mumbles out with making absolutely no effort to even stop you; if anything he’s encouraging by rubbing small circles on your hips.
A kiss on his cheeks, another one and maybe one more for good luck. kiss on his eyelid, kiss on his eyebrow kiss “it’s like tradition! I’ve done it for years you can’t stop me now!!” Kiss kiss. “I even just put on chapstick because you always complain about the marks..though I still-“ Before you could even go on your rant about wanting to mark him so people know he’s got a girl waiting for him at home he cuts you off by kissing your lips and maybe some tongue.
clinggg!! There’s nowhere in Magnolia that Gray isn’t seen by without you wrapped around his arm. Always smiling at him, pointing out whatever you see and he just had a sweet smile on his face that only is shown for you.
No one knows this but one of the main factors of you two being tied at the hip is because of Gray who always needs you around and he absolutely hates being away from you for too long - a day without his favorite pretty lady to smother him in kisses and tell him all about your day breaks his heart.
Once when he came back home from a long and draining job; there was nothing he wanted more than to see your pretty face and take a nap holding you in his arms yet.. you weren’t home? Maybe the kitchen..nope not there either. Then it has to be the bedroom..oh not there either?!! Why is the universe so against him, where the hell were you?!
That was the first time Gray sobbed without someone dying.
Luckily you got home on queue and the second Gray heard the door open, he sped over to you and wrapped his strong arms around you so tightly you almost lost airflow.
This was the most vulnerable he had gotten with you and you had let him hold you thy entire day just running your fingiré through his hair until he fell asleep.
crying? Talking about crying… wanna know a secret to getting Thee Gray Fullbuster wrapped around your finger? Crying :3
The thing about you is that you are a sensitive soul and very much an easy crier; it was never really something you ever liked about yourself, the constant “why are you upset” “this is no time to be crying” has been something you’ve heard all your life. The worst thing was that most of the time you didn’t want to cry. It's just your emotions are so much that before you know it the tears are falling down your cheeks before you can even stop them.
Yet with Gray it never made him mad at you. He never yelled or made your feeling feel invalidated it did the exact opposite: he folds like the lawn chair the moment he sees that glossy look in your eyes. “Awh baby I’m sorry please don’t cry” his heart sinks a bit, eyes widening and hands immediately go to wipe off your tears.
He kisses your tears staining your cheeks “you know I can’t handle seeing you cry.”
He’ll spoil you any way he can to get your cute smile back.
bonus yearning𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 ᢉ𐭩.ᐟ distance makes the heart grow fonder they say and it’s undoubtedly true. Gray will always be gone for days even weeks at a time, both of you aren't much fans of being apart but gray loves the guild and what he does so you’ll never stop him. You will however always make him late by “five more minutes gray..” even if that was said 15 minutes ago and you’re still cuddling him in bed.
“baby I don’t want to leave either but the sooner I leave the faster I can be back with you mm?” That sleepy voice doesn’t really help his case.
You two write letters whenever you can though his is usually “I’m still alive don’t worry miss you too baby love you.” while yours be full of “you think I’m a good baker? Oo maybe I can start a bakery! By the way we should get a cat..yes I know I can’t steal pantherlily but I really want a black kitty :(. Also how is-“. Though you still appreciate him because once he’s back home he’ll ask you all the questions about your letters.
You will get used to him randomly stripping. Like, mid-conversation. Mid-argument. Mid-everything. At this point, you don’t even react anymore, just casually toss his clothes back at him. If anyone else stares? Oh, suddenly he does care and gets all grumbly and possessive.
Gray isn’t overly flashy with affection, but it’s always there in subtle ways. Standing slightly in front of you in dangerous situations. His hand hovering near your back, ready to pull you away at any second. A low “I’ve got you” kind of presence that feels grounding.
Expect constant arguing and somehow you get dragged into it. Natsu absolutely teases Gray about you nonstop. Gray denies being soft for you, but immediately proves it by getting flustered or defensive. You might have to physically separate them at least once a week.
When it’s just the two of you, he’s completely different. Quiet conversations late at night. Him resting his head on your shoulder after a long day. He doesn’t say “I love you” often, but when he does, it’s serious and real.
After everything with Ultear Milkovich and his past, trust doesn’t come easy. But once he trusts you? It’s unwavering. You become one of the few people he lets see his vulnerable side. He values your presence more than he knows how to properly express.
Juvia Lockser will absolutely be dramatic about your relationship at first. Gray gets awkward dealing with it, but makes it clear where he stands. Over time, things can settle into a, less chaotic dynamic (depending on how you handle it 👀).
If someone hurts you? He’s furious. Not reckless, but controlled anger that’s honestly more intimidating. Ice magic gets sharper, colder, more precise. Afterwards, he checks on you quietly, almost like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
Surprisingly chill when not fighting. Sitting together in the guild hall, comfortable silence. Training together = bonding time. He’d absolutely warm your hands with his magic if you’re cold (even if he pretends it’s “nothing”).
Doesn’t show it loudly, but it’s there. A slight glare, a sharper tone, pulling you a bit closer. If you call him out, he denies it immediately, while still holding your hand tighter.
