Five days.
That's how long it had been since Juvia Lockser last stepped foot in Fairy Tail. Five days since Gray, ever gentle but honest, had turned her down.
Laxus noticed.
He wasn't the most social guy in the guild—not by a long shot—but he noticed when someone's usual spark dimmed. Especially when it was someone like Juvia, whose presence was usually as bright and refreshing as a summer rain.
So, as guild master, and maybe something a bit more personal he couldn't quite name, Laxus found himself standing in front of her apartment door, hand raised, knuckles brushing against the wood before knocking firmly.
A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Just when he was about to knock again, the door creaked open.
And there she was.
Juvia.
Eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, wearing a slinky mini nightgown that left very little to the imagination. Her blue hair fell in loose waves, and the smell of plum wine lingered in the air like a fog.
"Laxus...?" Her voice was husky from disuse and drink. "Did Juvia summon thunder by accident?"
Laxus Dreyar stood there, tall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in concern. "No one's seen you at the guild. Figured I'd check on you."
Juvia blinked at him for a long moment before swaying slightly and raising her drink. "Want to drink with Juvia, Master?"
He hesitated. One look at her bare legs and the sway in her hips made his brain short-circuit
""No, I—probably not a good idea," he muttered, eyes glued to anythingbuther.
Suddenly, her eyes shimmered—not from drunken glee, but tears.
"Please don't leave," she whispered. "Juvia... doesn't want to be alone tonight."
His heart gave a strange little twist. Something about the way she said it, soft and broken, melted away his hesitation.
"Alright. One drink. Then you eat something."
She brightened just enough to shuffle back toward her couch, pulling a bottle and two mismatched glasses from the counter. The apartment was messy, but not unlivable—just... neglected. Like her.
To his surprise, sitting with her wasn't unpleasant. Her drunken rambles were strangely soothing—soft thoughts about clouds, water, heartbreak, and memories. She laughed a little. He even chuckled once.
Laxus also listened. He actuallylistened. And for the first time in a while, he found comfort in conversation. Her voice was soft, dreamy. There was sadness under it, but also warmth.
And then, without warning, she shifted.
Slid over.
And sat on his lap.
His entire body went rigid. Her fingers lightly traced his jaw, her half-lidded eyes staring into his
"You're warm..." she murmured, leaning dangerously close. Her eyes searched his, dazed but vulnerable.
"Juvia—"
She tilted forward, lips a breath away—
And then she collapsed.
Face first, snoring quietly into his chest.
Laxus sat frozen for a moment before sighing. "Of course."
He carefully gathered her up, cradling her light frame as he brought her to her bed. Her room smelled like rain and soft perfume. As he laid her down, something strange twisted in him.
His hand lingered on her cheek. She looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Suddenly he wanted more than just touching her face.
He clenched his jaw, pulled away. "Nope. Not happening."
Needing a distraction—and badly—Laxus dropped to the floor and began doing push-ups. Dozens. Then hundreds. His arms screamed, sweat dripping onto the floor, until his body gave out. He passed out, chest heaving, on the carpet.
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Morning light spilled into the room.
Juvia blinked awake, clutching her head.
"Ugh... what...?"
She sat up, then froze when she spotted Laxus—shirtless, asleep on her floor.
Her eyes widened in horror. She glanced down at herself. Still clothed. No signs of—
"Relax," came his voice, muffled by the rug. "Nothing happened."
She clutched her pillow. "Juvia is... so embarrassed..."
"Don't be." He opened one eye, lazily. "Just don't make a habit of lap-sitting your guild master when you're drunk."
Her cheeks burned.
He yawned, rolling onto his back with a small, rare smile. "But... I've had worse nights."
Juvia blinked. "Really?"
He shrugged. "You talk a lot of nonsense... but it's not the worst kind to hear."
And with that, Laxus drifted off again, his breathing even.
Juvia looked at him, then pulled the blanket tighter around herself. For the first time in days, the rain stopped.
Juvia sat curled on the edge of her bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around her like a shield. Her fingers gripped the fabric as if it might keep her dignity from slipping through the cracks in her memory.
Across the room, Laxus stirred again. He stretched with a quiet groan, cracking his neck as he slowly sat up on the floor, looking more like a wild beast shaking off sleep than the Master of Fairy Tail.
She flinched. "Juvia is so sorry... she didn't mean to act like—likethat.She just... she was hurting and drunk and... stupid."
Laxus stood and ran a hand through his hair. "You were drunk, yeah. But you're not stupid."
She blinked at him, surprised.
He sat down on the couch with a sigh, his tone serious now. "But listen to me, Juvia."
She nodded meekly.
"You were lucky it was me at that door last night." His gaze locked onto hers. "If it had been someone else... someone who didn't care about you... someone who would've taken advantage..."
She lowered her eyes, shame washing over her like cold water.
"I'm not saying this to scare you," he continued, gentler this time. "But offering a man drinks while dressed likethatand sitting on his lap when you can barely walk straight?" He shook his head. "You don't know how fast that could go bad."
Juvia whispered, "Juvia thought... Gray would be the only man she ever loved."
"I get that," he said. "Heartbreak makes people do dumb things. I've done dumb things too. But drinking yourself into that kind of mess? That's not you, Juvia."
She wiped her eyes, silent.
Laxus leaned back, arms draped across the back of the couch. "I don't judge you for feeling. You've always been honest about your heart, and I respect that more than most people. But if you're gonna drink... don't do it alone. And don't invite justanyguy in."
Juvia peeked at him. "So... Laxus-sama is saying... Juvia can drink with him?"
He scoffed, but there was a faint smirk playing at his lips. "If youreallyneed to, yeah. I'll bring the good stuff. But only if you promise not to cry on me or try to kiss me again."
Her face turnedcrimson. "Juvia didn't—! I mean—Juvia almost—!" She buried her face in her hands.
Laxus chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You almost did. But you didn't. And I didn't let you."
She peeked at him between her fingers. "Why not?"
There was a long pause.
Then, he said quietly, "Because you deserve better than being someone's drunken mistake."
That hit her like thunder. Soft but powerful.
She sat in silence as his words settled in the room like the morning light. After a moment, she whispered, "Thank you... for being good to Juvia."
Laxus gave a small nod, standing up. "You gonna be okay now?"
She gave him a soft smile. "Yes. Juvia thinks... the storm is finally starting to clear."
As he reached the door, Juvia called out softly, "Wait."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Would you... maybe stay for breakfast?"
Laxus hesitated.
Then his lips twitched into a tiny smile. "Only if there's coffee."
Ithad been few days since they had breakfast together.
Since then, she'd returned to the guild. Not with her usual dramatic flair or romantic declarations—just quietly. Soft hellos. Small smiles. A little more reserved, but no longer vanishing like mist.
Laxus noticed.
He didn't mention it, though. He just gave her a nod when she walked in, and she gave him a tiny one back.
And that was enough.
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It was a quiet afternoon when it happened again. This time, Juvia wasn't drunk. She sat alone at the corner table of the guild, her fingers stirring her tea absentmindedly, gaze far away.
Laxus approached without a word and sat across from her.
She looked up in surprise, then smiled. "Laxus-sama."
"No 'sama.' I'm not into that."
Her smile grew just a bit. "Okay, Laxus."
He tilted his head slightly. "You holding up alright?"
Juvia nodded. "Better. Not good... but better."
He folded his arms on the table, his voice low. "That's real talk. I'll take it."
There was a small, comfortable pause.
Juvia finally said, "Juvia never thought she could talk to you like this."
Laxus shrugged. "People think I don't listen just because I'm quiet. But I hear more than they think."
She looked at him then—really looked. Strong, distant, usually closed off. But here he was. Sitting with her. Not out of obligation. Just... being present.
She whispered, "Thank you... for that night."
He met her gaze. "Don't mention it. Just don't make me sleep on your floor again."
She giggled—really giggled. And for the first time in a while, it sounded like her.
Over the next few weeks, something unspoken built between them. Not romance. Not flirtation.
Justunderstanding.
When Juvia had a rough day, she'd find Laxus on the balcony overlooking the lake. He wouldn't ask questions. He'd just pass her a bottle of water—or sometimes, chocolate—and they'd sit in silence.
When Laxus had one of his colder moods, Juvia never pushed. She'd just bring him his favorite sandwich from the shop two streets down, set it beside him, and walk away with a nod.
It wasn't about fixing each other.
It was about not letting the other drift too far.
One night, as the stars blinked faintly above the guild hall, Juvia stood beside Laxus on the balcony.
"The rain doesn't follow me as much anymore," she said quietly.
"That's because it's not in your heart right now," he replied.
She looked at him. "Are you always this poetic when no one's listening?"
He smirked. "Don't tell anyone."
She smiled.
They didn't say much after that.
And they didn't need to.
Because somewhere in the quiet between heartbreak and healing, two people found a calm they hadn't known they needed.
Not lovers. Not saviors. Just... a bond like lightning and rain.
Unlikely, but natural. And strong.
Then everything changed in one evening.
They were on the way back from a mid-tier mission outside of Crocus. Nothing fancy—just a clean-up job involving some rogue bandits and oneveryunlucky cart full of enchanted pumpkins. But somehow it left them both bruised and caked in mud, and by the time they made it back to Magnolia, the sun had long set.
"Ugh," Juvia groaned, dragging her boots down the cobblestone path. "Juvia needs a bath. And sleep. Maybe both at the same time."
Laxus grunted beside her, rolling his shoulder. "Next time, I'm setting those pumpkins on fire."
Juvia gave a tired giggle. "You say that like you didn't enjoy punting them across the field."
"…Maybe a little."
They were quiet for a beat.
Then, she said it—soft, a little hesitant. "Would you like to come in? Just for a little while?"
He looked over at her.
She wasn't dressed in anything fancy—just her travel cloak, her damp hair clinging to her cheeks—but there was something in her eyes. Not flirtation, not sadness. Just… openness. Comfort.
Laxus hesitated for a second. Then nodded. "Yeah. Sure."
They ended up on her couch, both wrapped in blankets, a kettle of tea warming on the small table between them. The lights were dim, the world outside the window quiet, and Magnolia was slowly being washed in a gentle drizzle.
"You know," Juvia said, tracing the rim of her cup, "when I imagined moments like this with someone… they never looked like this. Mud, bruises, exhaustion."
He chuckled low. "This is more real."
She nodded, smiling faintly. "Yeah. It is."
He looked at her then—really looked at her. Hair damp and falling into her eyes, a tiny cut on her cheek, fingers wrapped around the warm porcelain. The kind of moment that sneaks up on you.
And she was looking at him too.
There was a pause.
Not awkward. Justcharged.
Like the moment right before lightning strikes.
Juvia leaned in slightly, eyes soft, not entirely sure what she was doing—only that she wanted to be near him, just a little closer.
Laxus didn't move away.
Her shoulder brushed his.
They stayed like that, faces just inches apart, sharing the same breath.
And then—
She blinked.
Realization flickered in her eyes. Not fear, not regret. Just...awareness.
She pulled back gently, cheeks flushing. "Sorry," she whispered, setting her cup down. "That was... Juvia got caught in the moment."
Laxus exhaled, looking down at his hands, then shook his head. "Don't apologize."
She tilted her head, a little unsure.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Juvia studied his face. He looked like he was going to say something, but he hesitated.
He didn't say anything anymore.
Juvia smiled—soft, a little disappointed, but understanding. "You're right, Laxus."
Outside, the rain kept falling, steady and light.
And inside, two people sat close enough to touch, but wise enough not to.
Not yet.
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Author's note: yay or nay?let me know if I should continue.I typed it on my phone so it might be a mess.Sorry