Chapter Text
"Alright, alright, settle down!" Mr. Jonah shouted over the chatter, his broken English cutting through the noise. "This is our last week of class, and for your final… you will draw a nude figure."
Lyon practically levitated off his stool. "Did you hear that? A NUDE model!"
Gray didn’t even look up. "Calm down. Knowing our luck, it’s gonna be Mr. Jonah striking a pose with a fruit bowl."
Lyon went pale. "Don’t say that, man. That’s how nightmares start."
Mr. Jonah clapped his hands, oblivious. "She will be coming three times this week. Enough time for sketch and detail."
Gray raised an eyebrow. "She?"
Lyon grabbed Gray’s arm like a man clinging to hope. "SHE, Gray! It’s a girl! A real, live, three-dimensional, possibly-breathing woman!"
Gray sighed. "Lyon, I’ve seen your search history. You’re not exactly starved for female anatomy."
"That’s different," Lyon hissed. "Those women don’t judge me when I’m drawing them."
"You sure? I bet even the pop-ups roll their eyes at you."
Lyon’s hand shot up so fast it looked like it might launch off his shoulder. “Ah yes, Lyon?” Mr. Jonah asked warily.
“Is she from our campus?” Lyon asked, barely suppressing his grin.
Mr. Jonah squinted. “Does that make a difference?”
“Uh… no, sir. Just… curious?” Lyon replied, voice cracking with fake innocence.
Gray shook his head. “Smooth, man. Real smooth. NASA just called—they want your arm trajectory.”
“Her name is Juvia,” Mr. Jonah added plainly. “That is all. Class dismissed.”
Before they could process the name, chairs scraped and students started packing up.
“Juvia,” Lyon repeated dreamily. “Even her name is pretty…”
Gray tugged off his sweatshirt and stuffed it into his backpack. “You haven’t even met her. How do you know she’s pretty?”
“Because,” Lyon said, as if it were obvious, “they don’t hire ugly models!”
Gray snorted. “She could be ninety and built like a traffic cone for all you know.”
As they headed toward Gray’s car, he added, “Just don’t scare her off, alright? I actually want to pass this class.”
“No promises,” Lyon grinned. “But if she sees me sketch her like one of my French girls, it’s game over.”
“God help her,” Gray muttered, unlocking the car.
Gray pulled out his sketchpad and charcoal, taping a fresh sheet onto the easel with practiced ease. He glanced at the clock and muttered, “Where the hell—”
The classroom door slid open.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lyon waltzed in like he owned the Louvre, dressed in his nicest button-up—complete with tragically shiny buttons—and hair slicked back like a soap opera villain. The scent hit Gray before Lyon even sat down.
“Is that... cologne?” Gray asked, recoiling slightly. “What in God’s name are you wearing, and what is that smell? It’s like if flowers and regret had a baby.”
“That, my uncultured brother, would be Parfume de Ichiya. And I look amazing.”
“You look like a backup dancer in a soap opera. From the '80s.”
They were mid-bicker when a soft breeze of lavender perfume slipped through the room—then came the gentle sound of heels, and a head of long, flowing blue hair.
“Is that her??” Lyon hissed, practically climbing into Gray’s lap.
“Get off me, you creep!” Gray shoved him back, flustered.
Mr. Jonah appeared like a magician revealing a grand finale. “Good morning, everyone. This fine young woman is Miss Juvia.”
Juvia stepped forward with a graceful bow, slipping off her shoes. “Hello! My name is Juvia. It is an honor to help you with your final.”
Gray blinked. Then blinked again. She was tall, with dark blue eyes like deep water and skin as pale and smooth as cream. His charcoal rolled out of his hand.
She was… beautiful.
“Firstly,” Mr. Jonah began, hands folded like this was a wedding ceremony and not an art class, “thank you, Juvia, for taking time out of your week to come in and assist.”
Gray swallowed hard, his throat suddenly as dry as the charcoal in his hand.
“Definitely not a traffic cone,” Lyon whispered beside him, eyes wide and unblinking.
Gray didn’t respond—he couldn’t. Juvia looked like she had been sculpted by angels on overtime. Curves for days, not a single flaw in sight. The kind of model you didn’t draw, you prayed to.
“I expect utmost respect for Juvia,” Mr. Jonah continued, oblivious to the internal chaos unfolding in the second row. “And nothing but your best behavior. Please… begin.”
Juvia gave a gentle, bashful smile. Then, with effortless grace, she slipped out of her pale blue spaghetti-strapped dress. It floated to the floor like a sigh.
“Holy mother of God…” Lyon squeaked, voice cracking like he’d just hit puberty again.
Juvia must have heard him, because her cheeks turned the faintest, prettiest shade of pink.
With Mr. Jonah’s help, she stepped up onto the small platform, adjusting herself into a graceful seated pose—facing directly at Gray.
Gray’s soul nearly left his body.
“Switch seats with me right now,” Lyon hissed, gripping his arm like a hostage negotiator. “I’ll give you my bank account password, my ramen stash—my soul.”
Gray ignored him. He couldn't look away if he tried. With a hand that might as well have been trembling through an earthquake, he pressed his charcoal to the paper.
This was going to be the best—and most terrifying—drawing of his life.
“Lyon,” came Mr. Jonah’s voice from directly behind him, making Lyon flinch so hard he nearly dropped his charcoal.
“Y-yes, sir?” he squeaked, posture stiff.
“It’s been fifteen minutes… and your canvas is still blank.”
Lyon stared at the paper like it had betrayed him. “Oh, uh—w-well, the angle is all wrong!”
“The angle?” Mr. Jonah raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
Lyon glanced at Gray for backup, but Gray wasn’t even listening—he was laser-focused, sketching with a face so serious you'd think he was defusing a bomb.
Then, from the stand, Juvia’s smile faltered ever so slightly.
“I can switch positions,” she offered gently. “If it would help?”
“Yes!” Lyon said, already halfway out of his chair.
“No!” Gray blurted, louder than he meant to.
Everyone turned.
“I—I mean,” he fumbled, ears turning red, “it’s already been fifteen minutes and most of us have started. Wouldn’t want to throw off the... artistic flow.”
Lyon looked like he’d just been denied oxygen. “Bro. Come on.”
Gray refused to look at him.
Juvia blinked, then gave a tiny, amused smile—and settled back into place.
Lyon leaned over and muttered, “You’re dead to me.”
“Add it to the list,” Gray whispered back, trying very hard not to look directly at Juvia again… and failing.
After about an hour, Gray’s sketch was nearly complete—shading done, proportions right, lines clean. Except… for three glaring omissions. Two of them were perfectly perky and staring him down like a challenge. The third was a subtle detail peeking out just enough to definitely be noticeable if left out.
He stared at the page, charcoal hovering midair like it was about to betray him.
“Gray,” Mr. Jonah said, peering over his shoulder, “wonderful work as always. Though it seems you’re missing some key details.”
Gray stiffened. “Well, I, uh…”
“No need to explain,” Mr. Jonah said with a knowing nod. “The female anatomy is complex. Capturing every curve, every contour—down to the breasts—can be daunting.”
Gray turned beet red. Please God, smite me now.
“Miss Juvia,” Mr. Jonah continued, utterly unaware—or maybe just enjoying himself, “would you mind leaning in a bit closer… and then back again?”
“Of course,” Juvia said sweetly.
She leaned forward, and Gray watched in slow-motion horror as her breasts gently pressed together—then relaxed again as she leaned back.
“Notice how they shift with motion?” Mr. Jonah asked helpfully.
Gray could barely croak out, “Y-yes…”
“Wonderful! Now go on and—oh!” Mr. Jonah checked the clock. “Well, you can continue tomorrow. Everyone, class is dismissed! Please thank Miss Juvia on your way out.”
Gray’s soul left his body.
He’d just spent over an hour staring at a naked woman, mentally debating breast shading techniques, and now he had to walk up to her, make eye contact, and say thank you?!
This was worse than finals. This was emotional torture in HD.
As the other students filed out, murmuring polite “thank yous,” Gray found himself next in line. His palms were sweaty. His throat? Bone dry.
“U-uh, hi, my—”
Before he could finish, Lyon shoved him aside like a Black Friday shopper.
“Miss Juvia!” Lyon beamed, sweeping into full flirt mode. “Your body is absolutely flawless! A true masterpiece of divine engineering!”
Juvia, now dressed and slipping on her shoes, flushed a soft pink. “O-oh! Thank you. Lyon, wasn’t it?”
“Lyon Vastia,” he said with a bow, then took her hand and kissed it, like they were at a royal ball and not standing next to a table with dried glue and old charcoal shavings.
Gray walked up and, without ceremony, punched Lyon in the back of the head.
“Please ignore my idiot brother,” he muttered. “My name’s Gray. Thank you for letting me draw you today. I hope it’s to your liking.”
Juvia smiled, “Oh, I’m sure it will be above and beyond. Mr. Jonah showed me your previous work—you’re very talented.”
Gray blinked. “He what?”
Sure, he knew he was decent—he had been featured in the annual art show—but still. Mr. Jonah showing off his stuff like it was on tour?
“I especially liked your ocean drawing,” Juvia added brightly. “Water is very difficult to capture, but yours almost looked like a photo.”
Gray stared at her, stunned. Complimented… by the naked model he’d barely survived drawing. And she liked his work?
Lyon groaned dramatically from the floor. “You punch me, she compliments you. This is injustice.”
“Thanks… well, uh—see you tomorrow!” Gray blurted, then bolted from the art room before Juvia could even respond.
“Slow down!” Lyon called after him, chasing him into the parking lot.
“Sorry,” Gray muttered, still red-faced as he fished his keys out of his pocket.
“I think she likes you,” Lyon said with a dramatic sigh. “For some weird reason. Maybe she’s blind.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. She complimented your art, bro. Like, sincerely. That’s basically a proposal in art terms.”
Gray rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight the tiny grin tugging at his lips. “Just get in the car. I need to lie down. Or have a drink. Maybe both.”
Lyon snorted and slid into the passenger seat. “You’re in love with a naked girl you barely talked to.”
Gray started the engine. “And you’re jealous of a drawing. Let’s not throw stones.”
As they pulled out of the lot, Lyon grumbled, “I hope your drawing sucks.”
Gray smirked. “It won’t.”
The next morning unfolded just like the last—quiet setup, nervous energy, and Lyon sniffing his shirt for the hundredth time.
But when Juvia slipped off her dress again, Gray’s eyes caught something new: a delicate tattoo on her upper thigh. He blinked. How did I miss that yesterday?
It was simple, elegant… and on her legs, downright hot. Gray gulped and tried very, very hard not to stare. Focus on the art. Not the thighs. Not the tattoo on the thighs.
Juvia settled gracefully into the same position as before, and Gray took a deep breath. He only had today and tomorrow left—and he still hadn’t drawn everything.
Time to bite the bullet.
With shaky discipline and laser focus, he began sketching the final, most intimate parts. He blocked out Lyon’s humming beside him, the squeak of other students' easels, and tried to imagine he was drawing a bowl of fruit. A very… anatomically specific bowl of fruit.
“Hmm…” Mr. Jonah’s voice materialized over his shoulder again. “Almost perfect, Gray.”
Gray stiffened. That phrase was never a good sign.
“But,” Mr. Jonah added wisely, “in art, perfection is a myth.”
“A… myth?” Gray asked warily, charcoal still mid-curve.
Mr. Jonah nodded solemnly, as if quoting ancient scripture. “For example—your proportions are too symmetrical. Nature does not make mirrors.”
Gray blinked. “Okay…?”
“Take the breasts,” Mr. Jonah continued, completely unbothered. “Naturally, one is always slightly bigger than the other. In Miss Juvia’s case, it is the left.”
Gray froze, charcoal hovering over the paper like a bomb.
He hadn’t noticed. And honestly, even if he had… was he really expected to measure?! It’s not like he had a ruler and a magnifying glass.
Still… his pride as an artist—and Juvia’s face possibly seeing the final product—meant it had to be perfect.
He glanced up.
Left.
Yup. Slightly bigger.
God help me, he thought, adjusting the curve ever so slightly with surgical precision.
Gray looked up again, hyper-focused—on her breasts, specifically. Every curve, every soft dip in the light. They needed to be perfect. He needed them to be perfect.
His eyes drifted up to hers—and she was looking right at him, smiling.
He panicked and immediately looked back down, pretending to adjust the shading like it was a life-or-death decision. Nope. Nope nope nope.
“Excuse me, Miss Juvia?” Lucy, one of Gray’s classmates, raised her hand from across the room. “Could you shift just a little? I want to capture your tattoo better.”
“Oh, of course!” Juvia replied sweetly.
She adjusted her position—legs parting ever so slightly, innocently.
Gray’s soul left his body.
She was now on full display. No angle spared. No mercy given.
Abort mission.
He shot up so fast his stool tipped over. “I—uh—bathroom. Be right back. Maybe.”
And then he bolted.
He shoved the bathroom door open, slammed it shut, locked it, and braced both hands against the sink. His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and flushed a criminal shade of red.
He inhaled sharply.
“Okay. Okay. You’re an artist. You’re a professional. You can draw naked people. Naked, beautiful—nope. Nope. Don’t say that word again.”
He let his head thunk gently against the mirror.
One more day. Just survive one more day.
With a deep breath and one last scolding to himself in the mirror—You are an artist, not a hormonal wreck—Gray headed back to class.
But the second he opened the door, he stopped cold.
Lyon and Mr. Jonah were crouched over something on the floor like they were investigating a crime scene.
“Gray!” Lyon looked up, pale as a ghost. “I—I’m so sorry, man! It was an accident! I tripped!”
Gray’s stomach dropped. He pushed past them—and there it was.
His drawing.
Face-down on the floor.
With a giant footprint right across Juvia’s sketched face.
“You idiot!” Gray barked. “I was practically done!”
“I know, I know! I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry!” Lyon looked ready to cry—or run.
Gray ran a hand through his hair, fuming. “You’re walking home.”
“What?! But we live fifteen miles away!”
“Tough shit! You ruined my final!”
Juvia, startled by the yelling, stood up and wrapped the nearby sheet around herself. “If I may…” she said softly, “my studio is open on weekends. You could come there and start over.”
She turned to Mr. Jonah, eyes hopeful. “Would that be alright?”
Mr. Jonah rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then nodded. “I’ll allow it. Accidents happen, Gray. You’ve got the weekend.”
Gray looked down at the ruined sketch, then back up at Juvia’s warm smile.
“…Thanks. Seriously.”
Lyon piped up from the floor, hopeful. “So I don’t have to walk home, right?”
Gray didn’t even look at him. “I'd start walking now.”
“Please let me come!” Lyon begged, practically clinging to the edge of Gray’s bed as he packed his sketchbook and supplies.
“You’re lucky I don’t bury you in the backyard for what you did the other day,” Gray snapped.
“It was an accident! My foot slipped!”
“Onto my final project?” Gray shoved past him and slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back later.”
“But—!”
SLAM.
The front door rattled in its frame as Gray stormed out and made his way across town.
Eventually, he stood outside a charming brick building with a painted blue door—swirls of white and gold stars spun across it like Starry Night. Gray blinked. Of course her studio door looks like Van Gogh threw a party on it.
He pressed the buzzer.
“Lockser Studio, can I help you?” Juvia’s voice floated out from the intercom, sweet and familiar.
“I-It’s Gray.”
“Oh! Just a sec—I’ll buzz you up!”
The door clicked, and he stepped inside, climbing a narrow staircase that smelled faintly of lavender and paint thinner.
At the top, Juvia greeted him at the open door in an oversized hoodie and leggings, hair tied up messily. “Gray! Hi again,” she said cheerfully.
He offered a sheepish smile. “Hey. Wow—this place is great.”
“Thank you!” she beamed. “It’s also my apartment, so excuse the mess. I was in the middle of cleaning when you buzzed.”
Gray glanced around—there were canvases leaned against the walls, paint-streaked mugs on the windowsill, and a fluffy cat asleep on a pile of sketchpads.
“It’s kind of perfect,” he admitted.
Juvia tilted her head. “You sure you’re not just saying that because I’m not currently naked?”
Gray turned red instantly. “Wh—what? No! I mean—not that I minded—I mean—art! I meant the art part!”
Juvia laughed, soft and sweet. “Relax, Gray. I’m just teasing.”
He muttered something unintelligible and dropped his bag on the floor. This was going to be a long afternoon…
“Can I get you anything? Drink? Snacks?” Juvia offered sweetly, already turning and walking deeper into the studio.
“I’m all set, thanks,” Gray replied automatically—but his brain was not. Because as she walked, her hips swayed and her ass jiggled just enough to threaten his remaining self-control.
He snapped his gaze away like he’d just stared into the sun.
“This is Monet,” Juvia said, scooping up the gray tabby who had appeared silently at her feet. The cat meowed and nuzzled her cheek affectionately.
Gray walked over, grateful for the feline distraction. “He’s handsome,” he said, scratching behind Monet’s ears.
The cat purred instantly like Gray had unlocked a secret level.
“Let me just grab the platform and change,” Juvia said as she set Monet down. “Where do you want me?”
Gray really wished she hadn’t asked it like that.
Honestly… underneath me. His brain supplied that with zero permission.
“Uh—uhm, maybe in front of the window?” he said, coughing. “Shadow’s kind of my thing.”
“Sounds great!” she beamed, then disappeared behind a curtain.
He heard the soft squeak of a dolly and the gentle thunk of the familiar wooden platform being rolled across the floor. He set up his sketch pad and eased into the chair, glancing out the window to test the lighting. The morning sun filtered in just enough to create soft shadows—perfect.
Then the curtain rustled.
And Juvia stepped out.
Nude again, her hair loosely tied up this time, the light outlining her pale skin like she’d stepped out of a dream. She moved with quiet confidence, feet light on the hardwood as she positioned herself on the platform.
Gray swallowed.
Twice.
Gray studied her pose, charcoal in hand, but furrowed his brow.
“Is something wrong?” Juvia asked, her voice calm, but curious.
“The way you're sitting,” he said, standing slowly. “There’s not enough shadow. The lighting’s too flat.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Hmm… I could stand instead of sitting?”
Gray tucked his pencil behind his ear and walked toward her, hesitating a step away. “No, sitting’s fine. I just… Can I—?”
“You don’t need to ask,” she said with a gentle smile. “I am a model. Position me however you like.”
His hands hovered in the air for a second, shaking just slightly before he reached for her arm and gently moved it, adjusting the angle at her elbow. Then her legs, slightly tilting her knee. Finally, her shoulders—soft and warm under his fingertips.
She’s so soft…
He cleared his throat and took a half-step back. “Better?”
“Much,” he said, already retreating to his seat before his face could give away too much.
He picked up his pencil again and began to trace the new angles. The shadows were richer now, fuller. His hand moved with instinct.
“So,” Juvia said lightly, breaking the silence. “Tell me about yourself.”
Gray glanced up, surprised. “What, while I’m drawing you naked?”
She laughed, covering her mouth. “Why not? You already know more about me than most people.”
He smirked, trying not to get distracted by the way her hair fell over her shoulder. “Fair enough.”
He focused on the curve of her collarbone. “Uh… well, I’ve always been into art. Started with sketching people in the margins of my homework. Teachers hated it. My mom thought it was cool, though.”
Juvia’s expression softened. “Sounds like she believed in you.”
“Yeah. She did.” He gave a small nod, keeping his eyes on the page. “She passed a few years ago.”
Juvia’s smile faltered for a moment, sincere. “I’m sorry.”
Gray just shrugged. “It’s okay. I think she’d be proud I’m still drawing. Even if it’s… you know.” He gestured vaguely. “Nudes.”
Juvia grinned. “Well, I hope I’m doing her proud, too.”
That made him chuckle, and for a moment, the nervous tension between them felt… lighter.
“How about you?” Gray asked, glancing up from the paper. “How’d you get into modeling?”
Juvia shifted slightly on the platform, still holding her pose. “Well, I do art for a living—illustration, mostly—but when I realized it wasn’t bringing in as much money as I hoped, I picked up this gig. Turns out,” she smirked, “it pays pretty well to have a bunch of twenty-somethings either studying me or, you know… eye-fucking me. Like your brother.”
Snap.
Gray’s pencil tip cracked clean off.
“Yeah,” he muttered, reaching for a sharpener, “he’s kind of—no, he is an idiot.”
Juvia giggled. And that soft, musical sound made something in Gray's chest flip.
He ducked his head, ears pink, pretending to focus on sharpening the pencil when in reality, he was just trying to calm the warmth crawling up his neck.
He returned to the sketch, dragging the sharpened charcoal lightly over the page, slower now. Intentional. Careful. Not just drawing a model—but capturing her.
After about forty minutes, Juvia rolled her neck with a quiet sigh. “Mind if we take a quick break? I can make us some lunch.”
Gray cracked his knuckles and sat back. “Lunch sounds good.”
She smiled and grabbed her robe, tying it around herself as she stepped off the platform with casual ease.
“You like grilled cheese?” she asked, already heading for the small kitchenette.
“Love it,” Gray replied, standing and stretching. “But only if it’s got way too much cheese.”
Juvia laughed over her shoulder. “Well, then you’re in the right studio.”
Monet weaved between her legs as she stood barefoot at the stove, humming softly as the grilled cheese sizzled. Gray wandered the studio, taking in her art—swirling color, texture, movement, emotion. He paused at a massive canvas filled with fiery reds and cool blues clashing in a chaotic harmony.
“Your art is amazing,” he said, awe in his voice.
Juvia glanced back, flushed from the heat. “Oh… thank you. They’re just doodles.”
Gray arched a brow. “Doodles my ass,” he muttered, taking in the scale and depth of the piece. It practically breathed.
“One grilled cheese with extra—oh! Monet!” Juvia stumbled mid-sentence as the cat darted between her ankles, tripping her.
She gasped, lurching forward—but Gray was already moving, catching her just before she hit the ground. The paper plates fluttered to the floor like forgotten confetti.
“S-sorry,” she mumbled, hands clutched against his chest. “Stupid cat…”
Their eyes locked. Her cheeks were flushed, breaths uneven. Gray’s heart pounded in his ears. Say something. Anything. But his voice was gone—and her face was inching closer.
He met her halfway.
Their lips collided—warm, soft, hungry. Juvia’s arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, one hand sliding to the small of her back, the other threading into her hair with a low groan.
She moaned softly as his tongue brushed her lower lip, and she parted her mouth with no hesitation. He took the invitation gladly, pressing into her as they moved together like they'd been waiting for this forever.
They stumbled sideways, bumping into a stool. A jar of paintbrushes clattered loudly, rattling across the table—but neither of them cared.
Juvia's fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, her touch warm against his skin. Gray growled low in his throat, lifting her easily and setting her down on the edge of the worktable, his lips never leaving hers. Her legs wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to her as his hands roamed—exploring curves he’d studied for hours with his eyes and charcoal but was now discovering in a much different way.
She pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, voice breathless, “Maybe... we skip lunch?”
Gray smirked, forehead pressed to hers, voice husky. “Best idea you’ve had all day.”
Juvia tugged Gray’s shirt over his head, her fingers brushing the long, pale scar beneath his ribs. She traced it gently, and Gray didn’t flinch—just watched her, breath hitching as her touch lingered.
He slipped his fingers into the knot of her sash and gave a slow pull. The silk robe slid off her shoulders and pooled around her on the table, revealing every inch of her all over again—her soft skin, her perfect curves, the small, delicate patch of blue between her thighs.
His breath caught.
Then instinct took over.
His fingers slid between her legs, coaxing a soft moan from her lips as she clutched at his arms, dragging her nails down his skin.
“D-don’t stop…” she whispered, trembling beneath his touch.
He bit gently at her shoulder, his pace unrelenting, savoring the way she melted against him.
Her hands fumbled with his belt, eager, desperate. She hooked her feet around his hips and pushed his jeans down in one fluid motion.
“T-take me,” she gasped. “Right here.”
Gray groaned, lips brushing her ear. “Say it again.”
“Please, Gray… I need you.”
That was all it took.
He pushed forward, and they both gasped—bodies pressed tight, tangled in heat and breath and motion as the studio around them faded into a blur of color and rhythm. Paints rattled, Monet leapt off the table with an offended yowl, and the scent of grilled cheese and lavender filled the air as they lost themselves in each other.
Moans echoed through the studio, blending with the rhythmic creak of the table and the occasional clatter of art supplies pushed aside in their frenzy. Gray's breath came hot and fast against Juvia’s neck, his voice rough.
“You feel so good—so tight,” he growled as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer.
“More,” she panted, hips rolling into his. “I need more!”
He was more than happy to oblige, driving her into a spiraling crescendo of sensation.
“A-almost… I’m almost there!” she cried out, her body arching against him.
His pace was relentless, focused, driven—and when her body finally clenched tight around him, he followed moments after, both of them collapsing into each other, breathless and covered in a sheen of sweat.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of the fan and their uneven breathing.
“Wow…” Juvia murmured.
“Yeah,” Gray echoed, trying to catch his breath. “Wow.”
She giggled and leaned in, kissing him again, slow and sweet.
“How am I supposed to focus on drawing you now?” he asked against her lips.
“Self-control?” she teased, biting her bottom lip.
He chuckled breathlessly, brushing her hair back. “Easier said than done.”
She traced his scar with her fingertip. “Maybe we stop for today. Tomorrow… we can pick up where we left off?”
He nodded, pressing a final kiss to her mouth. “Yeah… probably for the best.”
He grabbed his shirt and tossed it on, glancing around for his sketchpad. “Is it okay if I leave my supplies here?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling. “As long as you promise to come back tomorrow.”
As she walked him to the door he paused, smirking. “Oh, trust me… I’ll come.”
Her face turned pink, and she swatted at him playfully as he slipped out the door with a satisfied grin.
A moment later, she peeked out the window, watching him disappear down the street—still smiling, still blushing.
Gray strolled into the house humming, tossing his keys up and down in his hand and a rare, satisfied smirk on his face.
Lyon passed him in the hallway, did a double take… and stopped dead in his tracks.
“Gray,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Why is your shirt on… inside out?”
Gray paused, looked down, and sure enough—seams on the outside, tag flapping proudly in the wind.
He shrugged. “Huh. Would you look at that.”
Lyon’s jaw dropped. “Did—did you sleep with her?!”
Gray didn’t even blink. “Define ‘sleep.’”
“GRAY!!”
“Shush! Before the neighbors hear you,” Gray snapped, grabbing bread and cheese from the fridge like this was any normal afternoon.
“Wait—wait—doesn’t she have a cat?!” Lyon gasped. “Did you traumatize the poor furball?!”
Gray smirked as he slapped his sandwich together. “That cat is a better wingman than you’ll ever be.”
Lyon stared at him like he’d ascended into some god-tier version of himself. “I need details. Details, Gray. This is a sacred brotherly duty—”
But Gray was already halfway down the hall, sandwich in hand, heading for his room.
“DETAILS!” Lyon shouted after him. “I NEED DETAILS! I NEED A PLAY-BY-PLAY!”
Gray's door shut with a satisfying click.
Lyon stood there, chip bag forgotten in his hand. “…I should’ve stepped on my own final.”
Gray lounged on his bed, half a sandwich in one hand, still basking in post-victory glow. His phone chimed, and he fished it out of his pocket.
Juvia: This is coming out amazing!
A photo of his nearly finished portrait followed—clean lines, careful shading, soft shadows dancing across her curves. It was, admittedly, some of his best work.
He smirked.
Gray: You should see the model. The art doesn’t do her justice.
A moment later, another ping.
Juvia: I had a great time today… maybe we can get dinner sometime?
Gray blinked, sitting up straighter.
Dinner? He’d just slept with the nude model he’d known for—what, a week? Tops? And now she wanted dinner? Like an actual date?
His smirk deepened.
Gray: Tomorrow night? My treat.
There was a pause—just long enough to build suspense—before:
Juvia: It’s a date.
Gray locked his phone, leaned back on the pillows, and bit into the last of his sandwich with the smugness of a man who had won at life.
“ARE YOU TEXTING HER?! I HEARD THE PHONE GRAY!”
He sighed. “I swear to god, Lyon…”
That night, sleep was impossible.
Gray lay in bed, shirtless, tangled in his sheets, the ceiling fan humming uselessly above him. But it wasn’t the heat that kept him up—it was her.
Juvia.
The way she looked beneath him. The way she sounded. The ache in his briefs wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t going away.
With a groan, he sat up and grabbed his phone, thumbing open the photo she’d sent earlier—the portrait he’d drawn. Even in the low light, it was beautiful. But it wasn’t her. It was charcoal. Paper. A shadow of the real thing.
Still, it was easier than asking for a nude at 2 a.m.
His hand started to slip lower when—
Buzz.
A new message lit up the screen.
Juvia: I know it’s late, but I can’t stop thinking about you.
Gray blinked, then chuckled, thumbing a reply with a crooked grin.
Gray: Great minds think alike, I guess.
Three dots blinked for a second, then—
Juvia: Come over?
Gray stared.
2:04 a.m.
He didn’t hesitate.
“Fuck it.”
He was out of bed in an instant, throwing on the nearest shirt—inside out again—and a pair of sweats. He grabbed his keys and bolted for the door without looking back.
Lyon, half-asleep in the hallway with a water bottle, blinked as Gray raced past him.
“Where the hell are you going at two in the—?”
“Don’t wait up!” Gray called.
The front door slammed behind him.
Gray barely made it through the studio door before Juvia’s hands were on him, pulling him close, her breath hot against his neck.
“What took you so long?” she whispered, already pressing kisses along his jaw.
“Baby, it only took me ten minutes,” he murmured with a chuckle, dipping down to kiss her throat.
“Ten minutes too long—mnf!” Her words melted into a moan as he nibbled along her collarbone, soothing each bite with a slow, teasing lick.
“Come here,” he said, voice low and rough.
He guided her gently to the familiar platform from earlier, lifting her with ease and settling her atop it. She opened for him without hesitation, breath catching as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, slowly sliding them off and letting them fall.
He knelt before her like a man devoted, like a worshipper at an altar—and before she could even take a breath, his head dipped between her thighs, his mouth working with practiced hunger.
Her hands clutched at the edges of the platform, gasping. “Oh—oh that feels so... so good!”
Gray gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her closer to him, holding her there as her back arched in pleasure.
Then his mouth lifted, only for his fingers to slide inside her warmth with deliberate precision.
“How about this?” he asked, watching her face for every twitch and flutter.
Her eyes fluttered shut, breath ragged. “Tell me, baby.”
“Y-yes... it feels amazing!” she moaned, voice high and trembling.
He grinned, satisfied, and dipped his head again, tongue and fingers working in harmony, never letting up until her legs were shaking beneath him, toes curling, hands clawing at the sheet beneath her.
“I’m so close!”
He hummed against her in answer—just enough to send shockwaves through her.
That did it.
She cried out his name as her release overtook her, back arching fully, hips bucking against his mouth. He stayed with her through every tremble, every twitch, until she finally collapsed back against the platform, flushed and breathless.
Gray stood slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned in as she pulled him down into a dizzy, heated kiss.
“Remind me,” she whispered, lips brushing his, “to always ask you to do that.”
He chuckled, voice low and warm. “Anything for you, baby.”
The sun began to stretch its golden fingers through the wide studio windows, casting soft light across the bed where Gray and Juvia lay tangled beneath the sheets, skin against skin, the chaos of the night before now replaced with quiet warmth.
Gray leaned in, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, then another along her spine. She let out a soft hum in response, still half-asleep.
“Mmm…”
He smiled against her skin, trailing lazy kisses up and down her back, his fingertips grazing the delicate curve of her waist. “Good morning,” he mumbled, lips still brushing against her.
Juvia rolled over slowly to face him, her hair tousled and her eyes lidded with contentment. “Morning,” she whispered, voice soft. “How did you sleep?”
“Fantastic,” he said, his grin lazy, his tone full of satisfaction.
She smiled, brushing a hand through his messy hair as he leaned down and kissed her gently, savoring the slow rhythm of the moment. His hand wandered across her side, fingers tracing invisible lines.
“Bathroom?” he murmured between kisses.
“Second door on the right,” she said, voice drowsy and sweet.
He kissed her once more, then sat up and slipped out of bed, pulling on his briefs without much care for the rest. The light caught the edge of his scar, the lines of his back, and the faint marks she’d left on his skin.
As he padded softly across the floor, Juvia watched him go with a lazy smile.
“Hurry back. I’m not done with you yet.”
Gray smirked over his shoulder. “Was hoping you'd say that.”
Juvia sat up in bed, robe slipping off one shoulder as she checked her phone. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, shit…”
A loud buzz echoed through the studio.
She bolted upright, sprinting to the intercom and jabbing the button—just as a deep, gruff voice cut in.
“Juv, it’s me. I got your package. Hurry up and let me in!”
Shit, shit, shit! Her heart skipped a beat.
“Uh—one sec!” she called, voice unnaturally high.
She whirled around, frantically grabbing the trail of clothes littered across the studio floor—Gray’s pants, her underwear, his shirt, dear god, was that her bra on the easel?! She scooped everything into her arms and practically launched it into her bedroom.
The toilet flushed.
Gray stepped out, freshly washed and stretching in nothing but his briefs. “Hey, did you know your soap smells like marshmallows—”
“You need to hide!”
“What?”
“Hide! Please—anywhere!”
He blinked at her like she’d just spoken in tongues. “Uh… okay?” He backed into the bedroom, still confused, and ducked just out of sight.
The buzzer rang again.
Juvia yanked on a pair of shorts and a paint-stained tee, hopping into them mid-sprint. She flung the door open.
“God, finally,” the man on the other side grunted. “What took you so long?”
Juvia grinned awkwardly at the tall man with long black hair, dark red eyes, and zero patience. “Uh… just… pooping?”
He stared at her, deadpan. “...Gross. Anyway here's your shit”
She took the package from his hands.
“It’s not shit, it’s my art supplies, Gajeel.”
“Whatever.” He walked inside without waiting for an invite, eyes scanning the room as he leaned back casually against the work table she and Gray had absolutely defiled just 24 hours earlier.
“Mom was asking about you,” he muttered.
Juvia crossed her arms, tension creeping into her shoulders. “Well, she could’ve called for once.”
Gajeel raised an eyebrow, but his voice softened just a touch. “Juv… don’t you think it’s time you two buried the axe? It’s been a year.”
She glanced toward the bedroom where Gray was hiding, her heart racing—not just from Gajeel’s words, but from the sheer chaos of the moment.
“I’m… not ready for that conversation.”
“Maybe not,” Gajeel said, shrugging. “But one day, that excuse’s gonna run out.”
He glanced at the table again, then smirked faintly.
“…Also, tell the guy hiding in your room he left his belt on the chair.”
Juvia paled. “What?!”
Gajeel snorted as he pushed off the table strolling toward the door.
“Later, Poop Princess.”
“Gajeel!”
He cackled all the way down the hall.
“Can I come out now?” Gray asked, peeking around the doorframe with caution.
Juvia exhaled a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that. My brother was dropping off some supplies I ordered.”
Gray stepped out, tugging his pants on and his shirt over his head. “Got nervous for a second. Thought it was your husband.”
She snorted. “Please.”
He shot her a wink, and she giggled, covering her face for a moment.
Then her tone softened. “So… you’re not going to ask?”
Gray tilted his head. “About what?”
“My mom,” she said quietly, fingers twisting the hem of her oversized shirt.
He paused for a beat, then stepped closer and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s not my business unless you want it to be.”
Her eyes shimmered a little, and she gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Gray grinned. “You hungry? I can go grab us breakfast.”
Juvia blinked. “Are you sure? We’ve got dinner tonight...”
“Relax,” he said, already pulling on his pants. “My treat.”
She watched him move, warmth in her eyes. “You spoil me.”
Gray smirked over his shoulder. “Get used to it.”
“Careful,” Juvia teased, her voice soft and playful. “I just might.”
Gray paused at the door, then turned around and crossed the room in a few strides. He cupped her face gently, eyes locked on hers, and kissed her—slow and deep—stealing the breath right from her lungs.
When he pulled back, his voice was low and certain. “I want you to.”
Juvia blinked, slightly dazed. “W-what do you—?”
“Go out with me,” he said simply.
Her breath hitched. “You mean… like dating?”
“Exactly like dating.”
A blush bloomed across her cheeks, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Hmm… I’ll give you my answer after dinner.”
Gray smirked, hands sliding down to give her butt a playful squeeze. “I’m counting on it.”
Juvia slipped into a sleek midnight-blue dress that hugged her curves just right, then buckled on a pair of silver heels. She fastened delicate diamond studs to her ears and gave her reflection one final once-over.
She turned to where Monet sat lazily on the windowsill.
“What do you think, Monet?” she asked, giving him a twirl.
The cat blinked once and let out a soft meow.
“I think I look good too,” she said with a satisfied nod.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Gray: I’m outside.
Juvia’s heart skipped, and she smiled as she pressed a kiss to Monet’s fuzzy head. “Don’t wait up.”
She hurried out the door and down the stairs, heels clicking softly against the floor.
Gray stood by his car, looking impossibly handsome in a fitted black shirt and jeans that somehow made casual look intentional. He held a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.
“Hi, baby,” he said, flashing a grin.
“Oh, are those for me?” Juvia asked, eyes lighting up.
“Originally, they were for Monet,” Gray teased. “But I figured he might be picky.”
She laughed, the kind that bubbled up from her chest, and brought the flowers to her nose. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
Gray stepped closer, eyes warm as they roamed over her. “Not as beautiful as you.”
She blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to fall for you even harder.”
“That’s the plan,” he said, opening the car door for her like a perfect gentleman.
The restaurant was a cozy little place tucked between old brick buildings, dimly lit with candles and warm tones. A low hum of conversation and soft jazz filled the space, wrapping the evening in a relaxed kind of intimacy.
Gray pulled out Juvia’s chair for her before taking his own across the table, the wildflowers now resting in a small vase provided by the smiling hostess.
“I think they bumped us up when they saw you,” Gray said, scanning the menu. “Either that or they thought I was out of my league and took pity on me.”
Juvia smirked. “You are out of your league. I just happen to like a challenge.”
He grinned over the top of his menu. “Guess I’m lucky you’re into charity cases.”
Their drinks arrived—wine for Juvia, water for Gray—and they spent the next few minutes exchanging easy conversation.
“So… when did you get into art?” she asked, sipping her wine.
“Fourth grade,” he said. “I got in trouble for drawing a very detailed dragon on my math test. Got detention. My mom framed it.”
Juvia laughed. “A rebel and an artist? Dangerous combo.”
Gray leaned on his elbow, eyes fixed on her. “You make it sound like a warning.”
“It is,” she said with a wink, setting down her glass.
As their entrees arrived—pasta for her, steak for him—Juvia slowly stretched one leg out beneath the table, her foot sliding softly along the inside of Gray’s shin.
He paused mid-bite, his fork hovering, eyes lifting to meet hers.
She smiled sweetly over her wine. “Something wrong?”
Gray raised a brow, swallowing his bite with effort. “Not unless you plan on doing that all night.”
“Depends,” she purred, her toes trailing just a bit higher, “on how good the company is.”
He leaned in slightly, voice dropping low. “Then you’re in trouble. I’m incredibly good company.”
Her foot paused, then nudged just a little more playfully against his leg.
“Prove it,” she whispered.
Gray chuckled, leaning back with a smirk. “Dinner first. I’m a gentleman.”
“For now,” Juvia said, eyes gleaming as she twirled her pasta.
Gray tried to focus on his steak, really—he did. But Juvia’s foot was making that extremely difficult.
What had started as a playful brush along his shin had turned into a slow, deliberate glide upward along the inside of his leg. His grip on his fork tightened slightly as he swallowed another bite, cheeks faintly flushed.
Juvia, across the table, was the picture of innocence—twirling her pasta, sipping her wine, not even glancing down.
Her foot edged a little higher.
Gray cleared his throat.
“You okay over there?” she asked sweetly, eyes twinkling.
“You’re... really testing my composure right now,” he muttered, leaning slightly forward, his voice low so only she could hear.
“Me?” she blinked innocently. “I’m just enjoying my dinner.”
Her foot pressed higher still, brushing along his thigh now. Gray’s jaw clenched ever so slightly, his blush deepening as he tried—and failed—not to shift in his seat.
“I’m going to drop this fork,” he warned.
“Don’t,” she said with a sly smile, “unless you plan to crawl under the table.”
Gray smirked, biting the inside of his cheek as he leaned toward her, eyes locked on hers. “You’re going to regret this when I have you alone again.”
Juvia’s foot retreated—slowly, teasingly—before she replied, “Oh, I hope so."
Before Juvia could pull her foot away completely, Gray’s hand shot under the table, gently grabbing her ankle and guiding it right back.
“I never said stop,” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on hers.
Juvia giggled, resting her chin on her hand as her foot slowly crept back up—this time pressing firmly against the bulge in his pants. Gray exhaled a quiet groan, his knuckles whitening around his fork.
She bit her lip, clearly thriving on his torment.
“Dessert?” the waiter asked cheerfully, appearing out of nowhere like some cruel twist of fate.
“N-no, just the che—”
“Actually,” Juvia cut in sweetly, “I would love dessert. What do you have?”
Gray slumped slightly, dying inside. All he wanted was to get her home, rip off that stunning dress, and erase the smug smile on her lips—slowly, thoroughly, repeatedly.
But no. She wanted to read about custard.
The waiter began listing options, completely oblivious. Juvia’s foot continued to press and shift, keeping Gray on the edge of sanity.
“Hmm…” she said thoughtfully. “I’d love a cream pie. They’re my favorite.”
Gray choked on air.
“One cream pie,” the waiter repeated brightly. “And for you, sir?”
“C-coffee. Black,” Gray managed through gritted teeth.
“Right away!”
As the waiter disappeared, Gray turned slowly to Juvia, a dangerous smirk creeping across his face.
“If you wanted a cream pie,” he whispered, “all you had to do was ask.”
Juvia’s eyes sparkled with mischief as her foot shifted side to side with slow, deliberate pressure. “Who said I won’t want another one?” she replied with a wink.
Gray leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Finish your dessert,” he murmured. “Because the real one’s waiting at your place.”
Juvia shivered and smiled. “Good. I’m starving.”
Juvia ate her dessert with agonizing slowness, her tongue flicking out to catch every bit of it, her soft moans of delight setting Gray’s nerves on fire.
“Mmm… this is so good,” she purred, glancing at him with faux innocence. “Want a bite?”
She held the spoon out sweetly, but Gray didn’t move. He was sitting pin straight, jaw clenched, gripping the edge of the table like it might fly away. He was already painfully hard—and Juvia’s foot still nestled intimately between his legs, pressing with just enough pressure to make him sweat.
She knew what she was doing. She could feel it.
“Eat,” Gray said through gritted teeth.
Juvia giggled, swirling her spoon playfully. “Don’t worry, I’m almost done.”
He forced himself to stare at the ceiling. At the potted plant in the corner. At literally anything that wasn’t her lips, her voice, her foot, or the very real threat of him embarrassing himself in a very public setting.
Finally, mercifully, she pulled her foot away. Gray exhaled like he’d just survived a hostage situation.
“All done!” she chirped, setting down the empty dish like nothing had happened.
Gray didn’t wait for the check. He slapped enough bills on the table to pay for dessert, dinner, and a week’s rent. Then he stood, grabbed her hand, and practically dragged her out the door.
Juvia was still giggling as they stepped into the cool night air.
“You okay?” she teased.
“Get in the car,” Gray growled, voice low and full of promise.
“Ohhh,” she hummed. “Someone’s in a hurry.”
He shot her a dark look. “You’re lucky I let you finish your dessert.”
Juvia leaned up and whispered, lips brushing his ear. “I always finish.”
Gray opened the car door so fast it nearly came off the hinges.
Juvia fumbled with her keys, nearly dropping them twice, hands shaking with anticipation and adrenaline. The second the door finally clicked open, she barely got it shut before Gray was on her—chasing her up the stairs with a growl in his throat and fire in his eyes.
She was laughing breathlessly when they reached the studio, but the sound was cut off the moment his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against him.
His hand slid up her body, fingers wrapping around her throat—not hard, just enough to make her gasp, just enough to make her melt.
“Been driving me crazy all night,” he whispered against her ear, his voice dark and thick with lust. “Teasing me under the table like that… You wanted me to lose control, didn’t you?”
Juvia’s breath hitched, her pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Maybe I did.”
She yanked at his shirt, ripping it open—buttons scattering like tiny explosions across the floor. Gray grinned through a growl, shoving the straps of her dress off her shoulders and lifting her effortlessly, pinning her to the wall.
Her back arched instinctively, goosebumps erupting as the cool wall met her heated skin.
“I should make you beg for it,” he murmured as his lips found her neck, kissing, biting, claiming. “After everything you pulled.”
“Then make me,” she moaned, threading her fingers into his hair.
He chuckled darkly, kissing lower, dragging his tongue over the curve of her collarbone.
She reached behind her, unhooking her bra in one swift move. Gray wasted no time—his mouth latched onto her breast, tongue flicking over her hardening nipple, sucking and teasing as his teeth gave it a gentle tug.
Juvia gasped, grinding against him. “God… Gray—more…”
“You like that?” he growled against her skin. “You love being teased, don’t you? Walking around in that dress, knowing exactly what it does to me.”
Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her legs tightening around his waist. “I wore it just for you.”
His eyes darkened, his lips brushing her ear. “Good. Because when I’m done with you, it won’t be wearable anymore.”
Gray's lips left a wet trail down the center of her chest as Juvia writhed against the wall, her breath coming out in sharp, shaky waves. His hands slid beneath her thighs, holding her up with ease as her back pressed harder into the cool surface.
“You’re mine tonight,” he murmured, voice low and rough, every word pressed hot against her skin.
“I’ve been yours,” she whispered, her hips rolling against his.
That was all it took.
He carried her to the nearby couch, lowering her onto it like something precious—only to climb over her a second later with that same hunger burning in his eyes. Her dress was completely forgotten, pooled somewhere on the studio floor. His pants were gone, tossed aside without ceremony.
Gray hovered just above her, his chest brushing hers, his lips ghosting over her mouth.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathed.
“You,” she said instantly, eyes locked to his. “All of you. Don’t hold back.”
A growl rumbled in his throat as he kissed her again, slower now, deeper—tongues dancing, breaths merging. His hand slid between them, fingers stroking her slick heat until she was moaning into his mouth, clutching his shoulders like he was the only solid thing keeping her grounded.
“Look at you,” he rasped. “So wet for me already.”
She whimpered as he teased her entrance with slow, maddening circles, his fingers barely dipping in.
“Gray, please—”
He smirked, leaning down to nip at her jaw. “That’s it, baby. Beg for it.”
“I need you inside me.”
“You’re gonna get me,” he said, lining himself up and holding her hips steady. “Every damn inch.”
Then he pushed into her—slow, steady, filling her completely—and Juvia’s head fell back with a strangled cry, her nails digging into his back.
He didn’t stop. His rhythm built quickly, snapping his hips into hers with desperate, claiming thrusts.
“That what you wanted?” he growled. “You love when I fuck you like this?”
“Yes—God, yes!” she gasped, her thighs tightening around his waist. “Harder!”
Gray obeyed without hesitation, his pace punishing, relentless, lips finding her neck again as she clung to him—moaning his name like a prayer.
“Don’t stop, Gray, I’m—I’m so close!”
“I’ve got you,” he groaned, his breath ragged. “Come for me, Juvia. Let me feel it.”
She shattered around him with a cry, her body clenching tight as her release tore through her like a wave. Gray followed a heartbeat later, hips stuttering as he spilled into her, growling her name against her skin.
They collapsed into each other—sweaty, shaking, breathless.
Before Gray could catch his breath, Juvia’s lips were on him again—kissing him with sudden hunger. She slid down between his legs, eyes never leaving his as she trailed her mouth lower, leaving a path of fire in her wake.
His head fell back against the couch, breath catching when he felt her take him into her mouth with no warning, slow and deliberate. Her rhythm was steady, teasing, sending shivers through him with every movement.
“Damn…” he growled, his fingers tangling in her hair, tugging gently. “Take every inch.”
She didn’t stop—only deepened her pace until he tensed, a low moan escaping as she pushed him right to the edge of losing control. She finally released him with a wet pop, licking her lips with a sly, knowing smile.
Gray cupped her chin, smirking down at her. “Do you like the way you taste on me?”
Juvia bit her lip and nodded, a flush rising in her cheeks.
Without missing a beat, he stood and took her hand, guiding her toward the work table. He turned her gently, bending her over it until her bare skin was on full display. His hands slid down her back before giving her a playful squeeze.
“Mmm… so squishy,” he murmured with a grin.
Juvia laughed breathlessly. “I hope that’s meant to be a compliment.”
“Oh, it is,” he said, leaning over her, voice deep in her ear. “I love a fat ass.”
Her cheeks flushed at the blunt honesty—and then she gasped as he entered her again, slow and sure, the connection between them reigniting instantly.
Their bodies moved together in sync, heated, breathless, every gasp and moan echoing through the studio once more.
Juvia’s nails dug into the edge of the table, her moans filling the studio as Gray moved with intensity behind her—every thrust deliberate, every breath ragged.
But then—
“Ouch!”
Gray froze instantly. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, no!” she said quickly, breathless and flushed. “Just—shoot. I think I got a splinter.”
He pulled back immediately, concern flashing across his face. “Where?”
She turned, showing him her finger. “Right there. Must’ve caught it on the edge of the table.”
Gray frowned. “Got any tweezers?”
“Bathroom,” she said, nodding toward the hallway.
Without hesitation, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the plush green armchair in the corner like she weighed nothing. He set her down gently, brushing her hair back with a look that was half worry, half adoration.
“Be right back,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom.
As soon as he was gone, Juvia eyed the splinter again, biting her lip, and—of course—started poking at it.
“Hey!” Gray’s voice called as he returned with the tweezers. “Quit picking at it.”
Juvia jumped, caught red-handed. “I wasn’t—!”
“Lemme see,” he said with a playful glare, kneeling in front of her and gently taking her hand.
“You’re very bossy for someone who's playing doctor,” she mumbled.
Gray smirked as he gently plucked the splinter from her finger. “Only to the patients I like.”
She giggled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “My hero.”
He sat back on his heels, eyes trailing over her with unguarded awe. The way she sat curled in the green chair, completely bare, moonlight pouring through the studio windows and casting silver across her flushed skin—her hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen, and cheeks still tinged pink.
She was radiant. Wild. Real.
“Stay there,” he said suddenly, standing. “Don’t move a muscle.”
Juvia blinked. “What?”
But Gray was already moving, dragging his easel and sketchpad across the room, setting it right in front of her.
“You’re drawing me?” she asked, laughing with disbelief.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, charcoal already in hand.
“Gray, we just had wild sex—I probably look like a mess.”
He didn’t look up. “You look perfect.”
She flushed again, arms instinctively folding across her chest.
“No,” he said softly. “Don’t cover anything. I want this. You. Unfiltered.”
Juvia sighed, letting her arms drop as she leaned back again. “This better not be your final.”
Gray smirked, charcoal already moving across the page. “Guess you’ll find out Monday.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he said, glancing at her with that same soft fire in his eyes, “are inspiration.”
“Do I get to see?” Juvia asked, eyes heavy but curious as Gray set down his charcoal with a satisfied sigh.
“Nope,” he replied without missing a beat.
Juvia scowled, but Gray shot her a teasing wink.
She tried to hold her pout, but a yawn snuck in before she could stop it. “Bed?” she mumbled, reaching out for him like a sleepy child.
Gray chuckled and nodded, scooping her up easily. He carried her across the studio and shooed a disgruntled Monet off the bed with a muttered, “Sorry, buddy—she’s mine tonight.”
Juvia nuzzled into him as he laid her down, her eyes fluttering half-shut.
“So?” he asked softly, brushing her hair back and tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“So...?” she echoed with a small smile.
Gray leaned in, giving her a look. “What’s your answer?”
She tilted her head and feigned innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Aw, baby, c’mon,” he groaned, flopping beside her. “That’s just mean.”
Juvia giggled and pushed herself up on one elbow, her expression suddenly sweet. “If you pass your final…” she paused for effect, “then yes.”
Gray grinned like a fool and leaned in, kissing her slow and deep—because they both already knew he would pass with flying colors.
After a moment, her fingers wandered, tracing the firm lines of his stomach until they found the long scar under his ribs.
Her hand paused. “What happened here?” she asked gently.
Gray looked down at her hand, then back at her eyes, all warmth and quiet.
He exhaled slowly. “That… is a story for another night.”
Juvia studied him for a beat, then smiled softly and leaned her head against his chest.
“Alright,” she murmured. “But just so you know… I want to hear every part of it.”
Gray wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “You will.”
The violent buzzing of Gray’s phone stirred Juvia from sleep. She groaned softly and patted his stomach. “Phone…”
“Hm?” Gray mumbled, still half-asleep.
“Your phone is buzzing,” she repeated, squinting at the noise.
Gray rolled over and flipped it over. Lyon’s name lit up the screen.
He groaned and reluctantly swiped to answer. “What?”
“Where are you?!” Lyon’s panicked voice exploded through the speaker.
Gray flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Holy God, shut up! I’m at Juvia’s. What’s your problem?”
“It’s 7:30! We need to leave!”
Gray blinked, still not computing. “Lyon... it’s Sunday.”
“Check your email!” Lyon snapped. “I’m ready to go, so please—please—come get me!”
Gray sat up, rubbing his eyes and scrolling through his school inbox. Sure enough, buried at the top, was an unread message from Mr. Jonah.
Subject: FINAL TURN-IN UPDATE
Good Morning my fellow artists!
Due to reasons beyond my control, I will not be in school Monday, so on Sunday please arrive at the student library to turn in your finals by 8 AM sharp!
Gray’s stomach dropped. “Oh shit…”
“Yeah! Hurry up!” Lyon’s voice screeched.
“Okay, okay! I’ll be there in five!” Gray hung up, already throwing the covers off.
Juvia sat up, sheet slipping down her torso. “Everything okay?”
“Nope. Surprise deadline.” He dashed across the room, grabbing his sketchpad and throwing on yesterday’s pants in record time. “Mr. Jonah moved the final to today.”
Juvia gasped. “Gray—your drawing!”
Gray clutched the drawing carefully, heart pounding. “Still perfect. Hopefully Mr. Jonah doesn’t grade on whether the model was moaning.”
Juvia flushed a deep pink and rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
He glanced around the room. “Crap—do you have an extra shirt I could steal? My girlfriend kinda destroyed the only one I brought.”
Juvia paused mid-step, a smile creeping onto her face. “Girlfriend, huh?”
Gray smirked as he shoved his sketchpad into his bag. “You and I both know I’m going to pass this final.”
She opened a box of oversized painter's shirts and held one up with minimal splatters. “Does this work?”
“Perfect,” he said, pulling it on without hesitation.
Before he left, he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her firmly. “I’ll come by when I get my grade.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she murmured against his lips, then waved him toward the door. “Now go!”
Gray darted down the stairs.
“Go, go, go!” Lyon yelled as Gray sped into the street like a mad man, his car skidding into the campus parking lot with a squeal of tires.
He threw it into park, the two leapt out, and sprinted to the library—bursting through the doors just as the clock flipped to 7:59.
He was breathless, disheveled, and sweating through a shirt that read “Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls” in faded letters.
But he made it.
Thirty seconds to spare.
“Ah, Gray. Lyon. Good to see you made it on time,” Mr. Jonah said with a wide smile as the brothers arrived, panting. “Again, I apologize for the last-minute change. But once you turn in your project and receive your grade, you’re all free to go.”
A line of students formed at the front of the library, each one handing over their final portraits of Juvia. One by one, Gray watched the artwork pass—stunning renditions, unique styles, varying levels of technical brilliance—but none made his pulse jump like his own.
“Can I see it now?” Lyon whispered, craning his neck.
“Shush,” Gray muttered. “Just wait.”
Lyon groaned dramatically. “Ughhhh. You’re the worst.”
“Lyon, your drawing?” Mr. Jonah called out.
Lyon perked up and marched over with a smile, placing his piece down on the desk with an exaggerated bow. Mr. Jonah gave him a patient nod, and Lyon sauntered back with a wink.
And then—
“Gray,” Mr. Jonah said, straightening. “Your drawing?”
Gray stepped forward, heart thudding in his chest, and handed over the large, carefully protected sheet.
Mr. Jonah lifted the paper, and the room went quiet as he took it in.
His mouth slowly parted. “Oh my…”
Lyon’s eyes widened.
“This…” Mr. Jonah breathed, “this is by far your best work yet. The lighting, the shading—the depth in the pose and the emotion—it’s… it’s a true work of art.”
A few heads turned to look at Gray, who simply grinned and shrugged like he hadn’t nearly missed the deadline by seconds.
Mr. Jonah gave him a proud nod. “You’ve truly captured something here. This is more than technical skill. This is soul."
“Grade?” Lyon whispered.
Mr. Jonah turned the folder around and marked the top with a flourish. “Perfect score.”
Lyon groaned dramatically in the background. “Unbelievable.”
Gray turned to him with a smug grin. “Guess I’ve got a date.”
As Gray stepped away from Mr. Jonah’s desk, glowing with his perfect score, he passed a small cluster of students still lingering near the exit—trying very hard to pretend they weren’t whispering about him.
They weren’t doing a great job.
“Okay but come on,” hissed Lucy, barely hiding behind her sketchpad. “That drawing had way too much... intimacy. There’s no way he didn’t sleep with her.”
Levy leaned in, eyes wide. “Right? The shading on her hip bones? That’s not from memory. That’s from, like… firsthand experience.”
“Did you see her lips in the drawing?” muttered Cana, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “They were all pouty and kiss-swollen. Like—post-kiss pouty. That’s a man who made out with his subject.”
“Or more,” Lucy added with a smirk.
“Maybe she just... held really still?” Lisanna offered weakly.
The rest of them turned slowly to stare at her.
“Okay, yeah, no. He totally hit that,” she agreed quickly.
Gray passed them on the way out, feeling every pair of eyes burning into his back. He shot them a glance over his shoulder—just enough to make them all flinch and shuffle their sketchpads like they hadn’t just been gossiping about his sex life.
Then he grinned and kept walking.
“Yup,” Levy whispered. “Definitely slept with her.”
Gray slid into his car, heart still racing with excitement, and made a quick stop for breakfast and her favorite coffee before heading straight to Juvia’s. The finished drawing was carefully tucked in the back seat—his masterpiece, and hers.
“Baby?” he called as he stepped inside.
“Back room!” came her voice, light and cheerful.
Monet trotted to the door like he’d been waiting just for him. Gray knelt down to scratch behind his ears. “Hey, little man.”
He followed the sound of Juvia’s voice, and there she was—barefoot, hair tousled from sleep, glowing even in her hoodie.
“There he is! My world-class artist boyfriend,” she teased, arms open.
“Hi, beautiful,” he said with a grin, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and handing her the coffee.
She lit up. “Oh, you’re the best! So? How’d it go?”
Gray smiled, his fingers slipping into hers. “Let me show you.”
Juvia’s eyes danced with curiosity as she followed him into the studio.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, and she obeyed with a giggle, covering them with both hands.
He carefully set the piece on display, adjusting the angle so the light hit it just right. His pulse thumped in his ears as he took one last look.
“Okay... and—open.”
Juvia lowered her hands.
She gasped.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she stepped closer. “Gray…”
There she was—captured in his charcoal strokes, sitting in that green chair, bathed in soft light. The curve of her smile, the shadows on her collarbone, the intimacy in her gaze… it was all there.
“It’s how I see you,” he said softly. “Strong, beautiful... real.”
Her eyes glossed, overwhelmed. “I—I don’t even have words…”
“I got a perfect score,” he added with a smirk.
Juvia turned to him, laughing through the emotion, and launched herself into his arms.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, hugging him tight.
"I couldn't have done it without you."
That evening, the studio was quiet.
The rush of deadlines and pressure was behind them, and in its place was peace—the kind of soft, golden peace that only came after something meaningful was accomplished.
The drawing sat framed on the far wall now, propped gently on a shelf above Juvia’s easel. The two of them lay curled on the couch, tangled in each other under a cozy blanket. The window was cracked open just enough to let in the cool breeze, and Monet snoozed nearby, tail twitching in a dream.
Juvia rested her head on Gray’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers lazily traced patterns along her spine.
“Do you ever think about the future?” she asked quietly.
Gray tilted his head, looking down at her. “All the time.”
She smiled, curling in closer. “What do you see?”
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful.
“I see a little apartment filled with art supplies and too many mugs. I see a grumpy cat who always picks your lap instead of mine. I see you in the mornings, barefoot, stealing my shirts. And I see us—still doing what we love, together.”
Juvia lifted her head, her heart swelling. “That sounds perfect.”
He kissed her softly. “It will be.”
They sat there for a while longer, saying nothing, letting the warmth between them speak for everything else. Outside, the city moved on, but in that quiet studio, nothing mattered but the two of them.
And when Juvia finally whispered, “I love you,” Gray didn’t hesitate for even a second.
“I love you more,” he replied, pulling her in for another kiss—one that was slow, certain, and full of promise.