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#we change and we grow up. & stuff we held most dearly in our arms becomes a subject of mockery!
sammygender · 2 years
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i’m sorry i have psychological problems because thinking too hard about tris and four from hit shit YA trilogy divergent still makes me want to sob. even tho i haven’t thought about them in like five years
#suddenly want to cry not at them but at twelve year old me#God. jesus christ. jesus fucking christ#we change and we grow up. & stuff we held most dearly in our arms becomes a subject of mockery!#but we still have a little soft spot for it deep down because we remember who we were when we liked it#& i remember who i was when the biggest part of my identity was being a divergent fan. giggling whenever someone said the number four.#obsessed with dauntless because i wanted so badly to be brave and strong and able to protect myself. the way i still do now!#the way i always will#i was so little i had so much hope :( before anything shit had happened to me yet. or actually not really not at all. but before i’d#processed most of the shit that had already happened.#i can’t believe i was real back then. when i look at kids from that age now it’s scary they seem so little and so not real but i was so#real. i felt so much. i sorta wanted to kill myself aged 11 & i really almost did aged 13#but i was still always so full of hope. i thought i’d get older and get a romance like tris and fours. one that leaves you dead but still#ultimately loved. important. and i thought i’d be brave; excited; jumping from trains and off roofs. i always told myself i’d be the first#to jump.#i think i would; think i was right#the little version of me that had discovered for the first time that he was brave.#i’m the friend who makes the other friends do stupid shit. i like that about me. on buses i see tattoo parlours and jump and go WE SHOULD#ALL GO GET ANOTHER PIERCING! and then we do. a lot of my life is based on random moments of impulsivity. that’s really nice.#but i used to lose myself in other people’s writing; now it’s always my own. that feels so easy#just to consume. to give nothing back. feels so freeing#& i used to be free; no academic pressures or worries. the way i’d kill for that again.#oliver talks
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our own luck ~ pete davidson
word count: 1652
request?: yes!
“Can you do a Pete Davidson fluff on the readers wedding day.”
description: in which they decide to make their own luck on their wedding day
pairing: pete davidson x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two)
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While sharing your big day with your friends and family was the best feeling in the world, having a room full of your best girl friends and your mom all talking over one another and fawning over your and trying to get ready became overwhelming very fast. Luckily, because it was your wedding day, everyone was very kind when you asked them to give you some space.
You stood in front of the mirror, looking at yourself. You had been ready for quite some time as everyone insisted on helping you to get ready first. Your beautiful white dress hugged your figure perfectly and your makeup brought out all the best features on your face. You looked absolutely beautiful, almost like a princess.
“Goddamn, I’m marrying the most beautiful woman in the world.”
You spun around and found your husband to be stood at the door, dressed in his suit except with his tie still hanging undone around his shoulders. Your eyes widened in horror as you tried to find something to cover yourself.
“Pete!” you snapped. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding! That’s bad luck!”
Pete rolled his eyes as he entered the room. “That’s a stupid superstition. Do you know where it came from?”
You shook your head.
“It comes from back when arranged marriages were a thing. The men weren’t allowed to see their wives before the arranged marriages because if she was ugly, the dude would want to dump her. And the parents of the girls didn’t want that because it usually meant they’d be losing money and power. But it just carried on into modern day weddings.”
“That’s awful,” you said, scrunching up your nose at Pete’s story.
He chuckled. “It is! It’s a stupid superstition. I’ve seen you plenty of times and still want to marry you. Seeing you before the wedding doesn’t change anything.”
He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him. You rested your head against his chest and listened to his heart beating. For the first time all day, you were feeling calm and soothed.
Pete placed his hand gently under your chin and tilted your head back to look up at him. He started to lower his head to kiss you, but you quickly pulled away.
“You can’t kiss me!” you said. “That is definitely some sort of bad luck.”
Pete chuckled. “Baby, you’re too worried. There will be no bad luck today. I love you and I want to marry you. Nothing is going to suddenly change if I see you and kiss you now.”
He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. You smiled up at him as he pressed his lips to yours. Despite the worry you had that this would cause some sort of bad superstitious stuff on your wedding day, you couldn’t help but to go with it. Pete always managed to calm you down, and you definitely needed someone who was legitimately going to help with your pre-wedding jitters.
You finally pushed him away from you, unable to hide the wide smile on your face. “Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to test fate.”
He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you at the end of the aisle I guess.”
“I’ll see you at the end of the aisle,” you responded. “Oh, and wipe your mouth. I got lipstick on you.”
His slightly red tinted mouth smiled back at you before he finally exited the room. You let out an exhale you didn’t realize you had been holding, realizing then that the nerves you were feeling weren’t that of worry or fear, but rather of excitement. You couldn’t wait to get to the end of the aisle and to finally be married to the love of your life.
You were fixing your lipstick when your bridal party came back in and told you it was almost time to walk down the aisle. Your mom made a fuss over you one last time to make sure your makeup was right and your dress was fitting nicely before the group of you got into formation.
Your wedding was being held in a large church, the only venue that would satisfy both of your parents and also Pete’s mom. The doors to the chapel were closed, but you could still hear the soft murmur of your guests inside. The minute the doors opened and the organ began to play your wedding march, a hush fell over the attendees.
The bride’s maids and groom’s men went first, linking arms and smiling at the attendees before making it to their spots at the end of the aisle. Your Maid of Honor - your best friend - linked arms with Pete’s Best Man - Colson - and they made their way down the aisle. Once they reached the end, your little flower girl and ring bearer started walking.
When you appeared at the doorway, taking your father’s arm in your hand, everyone turned to look at you. You felt it becoming harder to breathe knowing everyone was looking at you. Your hands were starting to feel clammy and all you wanted to do was to wipe them off in your dress before you had to hold Pete’s hand.
“Don’t focus on everyone else,” your dad whispered in your ear, noticing how nervous you suddenly had become. “Just look at him.”
You peeled your eyes away from the dozens of gazes looking right at you to meet the only one that mattered: Pete’s.
His eyes were already filling with tears, but you could see he was trying to hold them back. When you locked eyes, he smiled at you, and you could still see a hint of red on his lips from earlier. You smiled back at him as you finally took your first step forward.
You knew that it was silly, but you were terrified of something back happening between now and reaching Pete at the end of the aisle. Some terrible luck like you tripping up or your dress getting caught in your heels and it came off, or maybe the tears on Pete’s face were sad ones and he was starting to regret his decision.
The superstition did stem from grooms unable to see their bride to be because they may back out of the wedding, a voice inside of you reminded you. Maybe he’s going to back out because he saw you before the wedding.
Your dad gave you away to Pete, smiling a little through his own tears. You turned to face your husband to be, finally feeling a lump beginning to grow in your throat.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Long time, no see.”
You giggled a little at this.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest marrying the two of you began, “we are gathered here today to celebrate the holy union of Peter Michael Davidson and (Y/F/N).”
Pete subtly rolled his eyes at the formality of the ceremony, which caused you to giggle even more.
“I have been asked to keep this short and sweet,” the priest joked, “and that I will. The rings?”
The ring bearer came forward and passed the rings to you and to Pete. You had decided to go with the traditional vows as every time Pete tried to write his own they all came out a little too explicit for a family ceremony.
The feeling of the cold ring on your finger made your heart race with excitement. You couldn’t believe that it was actually finally happening. And to put Pete’s ring on his finger too just made everything feel...right.
Then, the magic words finally came: “You may now kiss the bride.”
Although it was the second time you had kissed Pete that day, it still felt just as magically as if it were the first time either of you had kissed at all. With that one kiss, you were officially a Davidson, and officially Pete’s wife.
Everyone cheered as the organ player began to play the wedding march again, signaling that it was time for you and Pete to walk back down the aisle. He took hold of you hand, lacing your fingers together, and the two of you started to walk out of the church.
You, Pete, and both of your parties took a handful of pictures for some time before everyone started to make their way to the place you had booked for your wedding reception.
It had been agreed upon that you and Pete would arrive together, giving you about an hour and a half of alone time before you had to spend the rest of the night with your friends and family. A limo arrived to pick you two up from the church with the plan of driving around for an hour before bringing you to the reception.
Once the door closed behind you, Pete took your face in his hands and began kissing you again. You leaned into him, deepening the kiss as much as possible. If it weren’t for the fact that the dress was so tight and you didn’t want to ruin it before the reception, you probably would’ve gotten onto Pete’s lap and asked him to take you right there. Who needs to wait for a wedding night when you can get it on in a limo?
Pete pulled away from the kiss first, smiling at you as he looked into your eyes. “See? I told you, our own luck.”
“I know, I know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe it finally happened. All that waiting and preparation and we were married within half an hour.”
“I’m glad it didn’t take long,” Pete admitted. “I wanted nothing more than to make you my wife officially.”
You smiled at him and kissed him again. “I love you so much, Pete.”
“I love you, too, Mrs. Davidson.”
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mediocre-writerr · 4 years
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grow as we go [toni shalifoe]
toni shalifoe x reader
requested: Hello! I was wondering if you could do a Toni x reader before the island. Where the reader is Martha's older sister and she moved out a few years back but when her mom lets her know about the trial and stuff comes back immediately and finds Toni living there. And when they were kids Toni always had a crush on the reader and know that she's older it has just gotten stronger
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*not my gif*
The younger girls’ laughter filled the bedroom next door. You squished your pillow over your face, before slamming it down next to you.
You stripped the blankets off of you and headed straight towards the noise. You knocked on the door before opening it, “Marty, Toni, I love you both dearly, but please go to bed. I have a big test tomorrow and I need you to go to bed.”
“What’s so important about tests anyway?” Toni shot back, crossing her arms.
“You’ll find out once you become a sophomore in high school. So please...goodnight girls.” you said and they answered in unison.
“Goodnight Y/N.”
“Your sister’s hot.” Toni said bluntly.
Marty smacked her arm, “Ew stop! She’s so old! She’s 15 and we’re 12! That’s like dating your grandma!”
The two giggled like school girl children. Well they were, but Toni couldn’t stop getting you out of her mind. Which was weird, she never felt this way about anyone before. Like she wants to kiss Y/N.
Eww cooties!!! Toni thought before shrugging off the idea.
“I just don’t understand why people decide to eat meat? It’s literally killing animals.” Martha began.
We were waiting for her mom to pick us up from school, “Because meat is good. It’s literally heaven on Earth,” but she became at lost for words when she turned her head to see Y/N. All of the girls just a tad older now, you about to leave for college and then about to go into high school, “Actually that’s heaven on Earth.”
Marty finally looked up at who you were staring at, wide-eyed, “Shut up Toni! That’s my sister!”
She raised her hands up in defense, “I can’t help it!”You smiled at the two younger girls as you arrived to the spot they were sitting and waiting, “Hello beautiful.” she flirted.
You playfully rolled your eyes, “Hi Toni, Marty. How was your guy’s day?”
“It was good.” Marty said with a smile at her older sister.
“Better now that you’re here.” Toni flirted yet again and you just laughed.
She always flirted with you as time grew older. Once Toni discovered that she was only into girls, she did not hesitate to flirt with you on a daily. Especially when she realized that you liked girls and boys. It’s not that you didn’t like it, but you about to graduate and her about to enter high school was enough for you to be a little weirded out about the tiny age gap.
It was the night before you were about to leave for college and your family decided to have a little family game night, plus Toni of course. Both Marty and Toni were fighting over who was gonna be your teammate in the game, like always.
“She’s my sister!” Martha yelled, pulling at your arm.
“She’s my wife!” Toni yelled back and your sister dropped her arms, raising them up in defense.
“Yeah, you win.” she mumbled before placing a seat back on the couch.
You looked at Toni with a small smile on your face, before running your fingers through your hair, “You know I’m too old for you, right Toni?” there were a few minutes of silence and you nodded approvingly, until she said, “Yeah, but I’m in it for the long run.”
She smiled at you with her big cheeky smile and you pushed her slightly before ruffling her hair.
“Did you unload everything?” your mom asked as you looked into them empty trunk of the car. The airport terminal not too far away.
You nodded with a sad smile. Your dad rushed towards you, holding you in a big tight hug. Tears threatening to spill as we hugs tighter, “Stay safe, okay?”
“Of course Dad.” you then went over to your mom and gave her a huge hug while she cried into your shoulder, “I love you.” you whisper.
“I love you too.” she says back, sniffiling in the process.
Marty throws her arms around you and you could feel the tears hit the crook of you neck, “You gonna be okay?” you ask softly and all she did was nod, unable to say anything else, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
And lastly there was Toni, who stood there awkwardly with a sad smile on her face.
“Get over here.” you say, nodding your head towards you, opening your arms wide. She throws herself into your arms just like Marty did. You hold her tight, burrying your face in her hair, “You take care of her for me, okay?”
“I will, I promise.”
The next four years of college was a blast. All of the parties, but really also all of the self-growth you learn along the way. You’ve been with a few guys and a couple girls, but all of the relationships seemed to fail. Like something was missing.
You were up late one night writing an essay, when my phone started ringing, “Hello?” I asked, whispering, not wanting to wake my friends up.
“Hey sweetheart.” your mom’s voice echoed throughout your ear.
You smiled softly, “Hey Mom, what’s up?”
“It’s about your sister,” your mom drew out and you immediately tensed up in your seat, waiting for her to answer, “She’s involved in a trial with her old physical therapist, from when she broke her bone, Dr. Ted.”
“A trial for what?” you asked, hoping and praying it’s not what you think.
Your mom sighed, her voice getting all chocked up, “There’s a bunch of accusations being made by hundreds of girls that he helped for sexual assault.”
Your heart dropped at what she said, you put your elbows on your desk, before rubbing your face with your hands, “I’ll be on the first flight home.”
You got back to Minnesota late at night. Almost midnight and the drive back to your house wasn’t the most pleasant, but all you thought about was getting home to Marty. She needs her older sister more than anything.
When you got home, you didn’t bother saying hello to your parents because they were fast asleep. You tiptoed through the halls and into your old bedroom, putting all the luggages next to the window. From the room next door, you could hear small laughter coming from inside.
The door was slightly opened, so you pushed on it a little more. You saw an older Toni and Martha messing and joking around with one another. You crossed your arms around your chest before leaning against the doorframe.
“I guess some things never change huh?” you questioned and the girls’ heads snapped towards yours.
“Y/N!” Marty yells, jumping from off her bed and towards you. But not before stepping on Toni’s body in the process.
“Ouch!” Toni screamed which caused you to let out a smal little laugh.
She embraced you in a hug and you just held her tighter, “What are you doing here?”
You shrugged, “I just wanted to visit for a bit.”
Toni gets up from off the mattress on the floor. And you notice a bunch of other clothes that belonged to her in Martha’s room.
“You live here now?” you asked, raising your eyebrow up.
She just nodded, “Yeah sorry about that. You’re probably stuck with me for awhile longer, not that I’m complaining.” she teased and you smiled.
“You grew up to beautiful Toni.” you said and the same smile you had, matched onto her face. You gave her a hug, holding her close, “It’s good to see you again. I’m gonna head to bed. Goodnight.”
As you closed the door. Toni opened her mouth just as wide as her eyes were, looking at Martha. She let out a small chuckle shaking her head.
“You are not going to date my sister.” she pointed out.
“I’d be your sister in law Marty. You should be happy.” she exclaimed, falling back onto the mattress with a dreamy look in her eye.
Marty just hummed in response, turning off the lights.
At around 2 in the morning, you heard muffled cries and sobs come from the room next door. You shot out of bed, heading straight to her room. To find your little sister crying in Toni’s arms. You didn’t say anything, but rather tilted your head in concern. Toni read your mind and just nodded.
You say on the mattress that laid on the floor, keeping the two of them company while she started to fall asleep and calm down. Toni laid Martha down softly before coming to plop down next to you.
“I tried protecting her Y/N.” Toni whispered and you nodded.
“I don’t blame you for this. We were both here when it happened. Neither of us could’ve known.” you explained, shaking your head, “You wanna know what I learned about you?”
“Oh no.” she mumbled before listening politely.
You let out a soft chuckle, “That you are the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Maybe it’s because you didn’t have the best family life. Or maybe it’s because you’ve never felt that kind of love, but it gave you the greatest quality of being the best friend that I have ever seen.”
“She’s my only family, I need to protect her.” Toni said with a shrug. You could feel her pinky inching closer to yours and you didn’t hesitate to move it closer either. She wrapped her hand around yours, the fingers falling into place with one another.
You tilted your head to the side, “And what about me?”
“I like you Y/N. I always have. No matter who I had a silly little crush on or actually dated. It was always you.” she whispered.
She stared at you in anticipation and you nodded with a smile, “I like you too.”
“So what does this mean?” Toni asked, your faces growing closer by the second.
“We’ll play the long game,” you tucked her hair behind her ear, “We’ll go out and live our lives, date who we want. But at the end of the day I’ll know you’re out there and you’ll know I’m here. We’ll find our way back.”
She crashed her lips onto yours and it was everything you expected. Soft, gentle, and amazing. Then suddenly it all clicked, like this is where I am meant to be.
///
tag list: @greysky22 @yourssincerelyj @hstoria @shalifoestilinski
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Leave Out All The Rest
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part 01/?? “the french quarter”
next part
summary: in the summer of 1994, four years after the death of their father, a teenage witch is pulled from their roots in new orleans and moved back to their mother’s home in westminster. out of place and being pulled in two different directions, the teen is faced with a new life at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. people fear what they don’t know, a lesson their father tried to shield them from their whole life, but maybe friends will make it easier.
word count 3.3k
an: efngojkf;enb; a harry potter fic i never saw myself falling back down this hole but here we are. don’t want to label this a certain pairing and ruin the story so y’all gotta bear with me :) also this takes inspiration from tvd/to in terms of the magic showcased, and the history of new orleans. as an la resident it’s always been fascinating and i’ve always wanted to incorporate that in some way. the only oc characters are the mother/father names. also title is inspired by leave out all the rest by linkin park.
The streets are lined with lights, fluorescent and bright to indicate the exciting environment. The jazz that radiated from the four person band making their way down the street carried up into the businesses and homes that resided in the French Quarter. The sunshine from the outside world that warmed the bodies underneath didn’t make it into the apartment off of Chartres St. Inside the red bricked building and in apartment 2D in 1990, the ever growing shouts from one adult to another could be heard from even down in the streets.
It was like any other day in the observant eleven year olds life. Focused on packing things into the expensive trunk her mother had bought for her, she did her best to tune out the shouting. She ran her fingers over the blue and cranberry robes, lost in thought of what this new school would be like when she heard the sound of a slammed door followed by footsteps. She knew who it would be, and closed the trunk and latched it before they could even get the door open.
“Are you all packed?” They had asked in a calm and comforting tone.
She nodded her head, pushing the trunk out of the way before standing to scratch the head of the black and tawny screech owl resting near the window. It lowered its head further into itself in satisfaction, when a hand grazed her shoulder. The child stopped, eyes looking up to look out into the street, and subsequently to see her mother disappear just around the corner into oblivion.
“She just needs some time to cool down,” her father told her. His daughter nodded, but he knew it was just an automatic response. He guided her to the ledged seat and she sat next to him while he grabbed her smaller hand in his.
“She doesn’t want me to go,” his daughter said matter of factly. He inhaled a bit, and gave her hand a squeeze.
“Your mother thinks you should go to the school she went to when she was your age,” he carefully explained. She gave him a nod, though there was a second of hesitation before she spoke again.
“But they aren’t like me. They’re like mom.”
There it was, the acknowledgment that you knew more than he ever wanted you to know. Vincent Dupuis had done everything he could to protect his daughter from the fact that her mother didn’t know what to do with her besides send her off to that school in Scotland in the hopes she’d return as only half of herself. It wasn’t an malicious intent, not at all, but it was an attempt to take a part of you (his part of you) away. That seemed to be the root of all their fights as of late, but he didn’t want you to know that. Vincent reached over and pulled his daughter into his lap and rubbed his thumb over her cheek.
“Ilvermorny will be able to teach you not only what your mother knows, but what I know too. Safely,” he emphasized. “You’ll be the brightest witch this city has seen. I know it.”
She smiled at that, and he kissed her forehead. It was the last tender moment they’d share, though she didn’t know that before heading off to the boarding school in Massachusetts. It was the last memory she had of her father before his death a few months later.
Vincent Dupuis was celebrated in a traditional New Orleans style. Though his family and his coven mourned him, the city celebrated his life (though the strangers lining the streets didn’t really know him). That was just how it was, and your mother said he would have appreciated that.
Vincent Dupuis was a part of a deeply rooted witch lineage in New Orleans, which now was a part of you. One of the original founding families of the witch covens in New Orleans to be exact. He often would remind you (and especially your mother) of that fact. You were a respected witch family, even if you were seen as different. Because of your mother.
Vincent was born and raised in the heart of the French Quarter. His parents still lived in the same house that smelled like cookies (your grandma would always have them ready when you’d stay the night when your parents would fight). It was a second home, and it was adorned with pictures of his family, and then yours. They moved and smiled, they held life in them. It was your favorite thing to see, though your grandparents didn’t see what you saw. They only saw the still motion. You wondered why that was, but eventually that thought trickled away when you found out why.
Althea Talpin (she opted to keep her maiden name) was a part of one of the most important bloodlines in the witch world. It was never tainted with muggle blood your maternal grandparents boasted about throughout your childhood. But when it came to her daughter, to you, they were colder than grandparents should be.
Althea was born and raised in Westminster. She was raised with the finest things, and was amongst one of the wealthiest families at this time. When she came of age, Althea was sent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and continued her family's legacy by being sorted into the Slytherin house. Over the next seven years she excelled in everything from potions, charms, to defense against the dark arts. She wanted a change after her final year, and took to traveling the world.
She eventually travelled to The Big Easy, drawn to the French Quarter because of the festivities and thrill of it all. She had always been a thrill seeker, and she found that in a man named Vincent. They fell in love and within the year were married, and when you came around shortly after was when Vincent opened up about his own life and lineage.
Althea was fine with it, she hoped her daughter would be free of that kind of magic, and she could convince Vincent to move the family back to her home. After eight years away, she missed everything so dearly. But he always refused, he was afraid of what people would say or even do to their child. The witches knew about the murders, knew the name which shouldn’t be spoken, and he was fearful of what would become of his only child. That was when the resentment started, almost immediately after she had found her daughter bringing dead flowers back to life with the touch of her hand.
Four years have passed since that day, those final moments between father and daughter. The summer of 1994 was soon coming to an end, though the fifteen year old didn’t want it to. With summer ending there was an ever looming cloud of uncertainty over her head, especially with her mother's eccentric ideas for the weekend, and future.
Westminster was nothing like the French Quarter. It was gloomy and busy with people who dressed like they were on their way to business meetings. Looking out of the average townhouse (on the outside, of course the inside felt like it had grown two sizes) it was dreadful. Your mother shouted from downstairs, and with a final sigh you scratched your owls head.
“We’ll be back soon, Arro,” you told the black and tawny feathered bird. “Don’t bother the house elves too much.”
Arro chirped at you, and you stood and grabbed the jacket off your bed. You bounced down the stairs and moved around the cleaning house elves. It was still odd to you to have these creatures in your house. You had always done the chores around the apartment in New Orleans, but your mother said you didn’t have to do that now. It didn’t sit right in your chest, but your mother was hard headed.
You missed your dad.
Your mother was transfixed on her hands, elegant and long, she barely looked up at you as you shoved your arms through your flannel. She was dressed like what you would think witches dressed like. Black jumpsuit that was sitting just below her shoulders, but also joined with a hood less black cape that just passed her elbows. Like you said, elegant and long, and daring as usual. She was like a new woman, back in her own world. Whereas you were more simple, you could even say more dressed to the times.
You had opted for a black overall and white shirt under it, basic shoes, and a loose flannel jacket. If you were honest you had seen a character from Friends wear it and you loved the look. You felt comfortable, but that faded the minute your mother looked you over.
“Did you not like the outfit I had picked?” She asked.
Right. The black stockings, black dress that looked too stuffy and had a weird collar that looked like you were a doll. No thanks. You could only offer a shrug and could see her eyes roll.
“This is more me.”
Partially true. You were at an age you didn’t know who you were really. Two halves of two different worlds ate away inside of you, but that was a topic for another day. She huffed in defeat and messed with the cape on her one more time. “Well that’s fine. Our stuff is already there, and as it is we’re late.”
She offered her hand to you, and you grimaced. “Oh no, please not this again.”
“It’s the fastest form of travel! You’ll need to get used to it.”
“It makes me feel sick,” you mumbled. She wiggled her fingers at you and you sighed. Taking her hand in yours, she led the way. You walked side by side down the hall on the first floor, and in a second were in a new location. Apparating still left your stomach in a twist, it may be effective but certainly not your favorite form of travel.
Night was falling quickly, and at the same pace as inside the house, you walked side by side, hand in hand, amongst others. The same air snapping sound rippled around you as others Apparated and approached the stadium.
The Quidditch World Cup was something your mother had been looking forward to for weeks. After receiving a personal invitation from the Minister of Magic, she insisted they both attend. With each flight of stairs upwards her stomach flipped more and more than when they Apparated. The large crowd trying to reach their respective seats was hard to navigate through, you even knocked into a boy around your age, but could barely mumble an apology as your mother kept pulling you in different directions.
Finally, the loud yells were hushed when a curtain was peeled back and they entered their destination. The private booth was full of others dressed almost like your mother. Eccentric. She detached her hand from yours as she approached a man, and you followed behind like a lost puppy. You were uncomfortable in this unknown place, with these unknown faces, and messed with the sleeves of your flannel. Your mother seemed to smile hugely, which was a rare occurrence to see, when the shorter and stout man met her eye.
“Althea,” he breathed. She laughed as he engulfed her hand with his large ones. “My it’s been so long.”
“It has Cornelius,” your mother replied. “You don’t look any different.”
He laughed and tapped her hand still in his. “Either you’re lying or you’ve been gone too long.”
“Too long,” she confirmed with a smile. The man called Cornelius looked behind him and called another unfamiliar name and a woman came over. After more laughs and smiles and embraces, your mother wandered over to what appeared to be a father and son duo. “I see you’ve grown your hair out Lucius.”
The taller man turned around, and without even a flicker down to you, his cold face erupted in it’s own smile. It felt uncomfortable to see, like it wasn’t genuine, but either way your mother embraced him
“Is this Draco?” She asked after a few moments. The man placed his ringed hand on his son's shoulder and looked to give it a good squeeze. Your eyes met the look of the young boy, while his father spoke.
“The one and only,” Lucius answered. That’s when his eyes looked down on you, and settled into something you couldn’t quite place. “And who is this?”
Ouch. So she knew of his son but he didn’t know of her daughter? You felt a pang of insult form at the back of your mind, but your mother stepped behind you and gripped onto your shoulders. It was as if she was offering reassurance. “This is my daughter. (Y/N).”
Lucius let out a humph, not disassociated but not satisfied either. His cold eyes went back to your mother and with instruction told his son, Draco, to not be rude as the parents stole one another away. You awkwardly stood before Draco, who overlooked you in some kind of judgement.
“My father never mentioned your mother had a daughter,” he finally said to break the silence. All you could do was shrug.
“My mother never mentioned either of you existed,” you said back. Draco’s brow lifted a bit, intrigued it seemed.
“You’re American,” he said.
“Guilty as charged,” you replied. Draco grinned a bit, before glancing around the room. His eyes hesitated for a moment, and you looked over to where his gaze paused. Another boy, older with dirty blonde hair and a nice smile, stood beside a man. Draco seemed to turn you away quickly and out towards the Quidditch field.
“So you’ll be coming to Hogwarts then?” He asked. Your hands reached out to hold onto the railing as you reached your body past to get a good look around.
“Against my own free will,” you joked. Draco huffed, laced behind another grin. “You’ll be the first person I know.”
Draco saw his opportunity, his eyes catching the far away look of the bunch he had just seen while travelling up here. His hands clutched the railing as well and motioned with his head across the field. “More than happy to give you the inside scoop, from one Slytherin to another.”
Hm, made sense. Your mother had explained her house background, and he seemed to fit the description to a T. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, but Draco pulled something from the side. It was like a magnifier, and he positioned it before you both, on a group of people. You glanced his way in confusion, but he began to explain his antics.
“See those red headed freaks? Those are the Weasleys. They’re pureblood like our families, but the father is fascinated with muggles. Their mother makes their clothes, and they share hand-me-downs. The twins are in Fifth year, the other one Ron is in our year, and the girl is below us. Awful family.
“Then next to them is Harry Potter,” Draco spat his name out. You raised a brow at the recognition of the name. You had heard of the Potters, though it was only small information. “He thinks he’s the bloody center of the world. Can’t believe he’s the Chosen One.
“That girl with the bushy hair is Hermione Granger,” he scoffed. “Thinks she’s so witty, but she’s nothing more than a mudblood.”
Can blood freeze? You shifted your weight a bit when the warm air seemed to hit you straight on. The Minister announced the start of the match (maybe, you weren’t too sure) but you looked over at the platinum blonde and inhaled a bit too sharply.
“Mudblood?” You repeated. Draco glanced your way before looking back to the field.
“Right, you probably don’t know the term. She’s of non-witch blood, bloody pathetic, not even half witch. Don’t know how she got into this school. It’s gone down the drain if you ask me.”
“I didn’t,” you stated. Draco looked over at you as if he wanted to rebut your statement, but a hand dropped down on your shoulder. You looked behind you and sighed a bit, the tension leaving your body though your fist were still tight in a ball you didn’t realize had formed. Draco’s expression fell, and your mother gave you a squeeze.
“You two doing alright?”
“Peachy,” you mumbled. Her thumb rubbed the back of your shoulder, before turning you to face her, and small tsk’s leaving her lips.
“Sweetie why don’t you go back down and get some fresh air?” She offered. You glanced back over to Draco, who looked uncomfortable in this moment, and nodded a bit. It was too pretentious in here anyway.
All the way back down, bumping past bodies you wouldn’t remember as more time passed, you felt the frustration reaching a boil. Finally as you pushed past the final set of bodies you breathed in the empty air.
You weren’t dumb, you liked to believe you were far from it. In ways your parents had tried to warn you about how people could be once they learned of your true lineage. You knew people could be cruel, that’s why being here, being brought to the world your mother had lived in, was so.. Wrong. You could only imagine the possibility it could get worse, the names they would call you.
No one deserved that.
Your frustration toppled over in a gust of wind that blew pieces of trash away from where you stood, blew the flaps on surroundings tents, but the release felt better than holding it in. In deep breathes you attempted to calm your mind, uncurling your fists and easing yourself into some foldable seats left out. You were sure the owners wouldn’t mind.
There were chants and hollers coming from the stadium, but they sounded far away. Your mind was drifting back to the thought of home, where you should be right now, and didn’t hear the crunch of grass as someone approached. “Mind if I join you?”
You averted your attention to the voice, met with the welcoming look of the other boy inside that pristine booth. You glanced at the chair beside you and nodded. “Sure.”
He smiled a bit, the one you recounted as being nice, and took the seat next to you. Your knees touched ever so slightly, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his legs, glancing up at the twirling lights in the sky. There was an awkward silence, one you didn’t know how to break or if you even should. Thankfully, he seemed to know how. “I couldn’t help but overhear what Draco was saying.”
You looked over at him, but his gaze still lingered up in the sky. It was an invitation to talk about it, and you couldn’t help but accept it. You rubbed your hands together and stole a glance at the ground. “I just can’t believe he uses a term like that so vilely.”
“Unfortunately there’s been a lot of prejudice circulating around recently,” he trailed off. You looked up to meet his gaze, and he offered a smile. “But don’t let Malfoy get to you.”
You wanted to scoff, but your throat couldn’t produce the sound. Instead you simply nodded, only to catch the slight lean in from your company. “Are you coming to Hogwarts this year?”
“It.. Looks that way yeah,” you answered sheepishly. He smiled even wider and offered his hand out to you.
“I’m Cedric,” he introduced. You hesitated only for a moment before taking his hand in yours.
“(Y/N),” you replied with a shake of your hand. His hand was warm, and nearly engulfed your own. The moment only lasted for a few seconds before shouting from the match drew both your attention, and your hands from one another. The slight gust of wind brought a fresh scent that would stick in your mind for the rest of the night.
Worn leather, the fresh scent of laundry detergent, and a hint of butterscotch.
- - - - - - - - - -
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duhliriouss · 4 years
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Joker One - Shot
Grind on Me
Based on @jokerflecker’s anon ask rollplay that got a little too REAL , I’m sorry if this is a flop. I tried writing it as fast a possible for all you horny clowns and kinda went over board 🥺
A/N: plug in those headphones! I like to add music to fics a lot and find that listening with headphones on while reading really brings in the mood ❣️ well at least for me it does (I don’t do anything without music blaring in my ears) I’m sorry if I made it too musical :/
Summary: Joker has made you sexually frustrated so you end up grinding yourself on his thigh. That’s it really except for the insanely added random stuff😅🖤
Word Count: 3,625
Warnings: Swearing, SMUT
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You’ve never committed a crime in your life. You can even say that now; as you waited in Joker and yours’ shared apartment for him to come home from his daily tasks of being his clown prince self.
You always had followed him blindly after his transformation. You’ve been together for so long now. And you were okay with his new-found confidence. You were okay with him switching the gears in your relationship; he was in charge now, and thank god for that...you were never good at taking the lead anyway. Now don’t get yourself all wrong, you loved Arthur dearly before he changed. It had always made sense when you soothed his laughing attacks before bed, when you gave him a warm soothing bath and kissed his bruises tenderly to make them feel better. You would do it all over again if you had to, even if it meant to go through mountains and valleys, hell and back just to protect him from the cruel world that had ambushed him vigorously day in and day out.
But you didn’t have to anymore. Instead, the tables had turned. It was Joker now that went though hell and back to protect you. Although this time it was to save you from the consequences of his own actions, the actions that you justified each time he added a number to his kill count. He never killed for the fun of it. It was for solid reasons; They deserved it, and he shows you just how much he appreciates you every day for staying by his side. He was only blossoming, and you will blossom with him in your very own way. You’ve become more loose, not caring what others think; Dancing in the rain with your beloved after he had just blown up the bank, splashing your feet in the wet remains and ash that sprinkled down with the cold water droplets that sent chills up your spine, mingling with the adrenaline you were both high on. And you have never felt more alive.
And that’s exactly what you did in this very moment..
( Listen To: Just the Two of Us - Grover Washington )
The radio trumpeted throughout the flat. Joker would be home soon and what better way to celebrate than lighting a cigarette and letting your head boom so loud you couldn’t even think straight? It sounded great to you, as it did everyday since it had become routine. You’ve grown bored most days since you liked to stay home all curled up in just your clown shaped slippers, one of Joker’s sweatshirts and your messy (y/h/c) hair, watching the news in anticipation to possibly see what your Joker has done now.
You smiled mischievously as you lit your cigarette, bobbing your head slightly to the vibrational thumps of melody that traveled from the floorboards up to your legs.
Just the two of us
Building castles in the sky
Just the two of us
The song certainly didn’t match the gracefulness of your sun dress you decided to wear today, but you danced anyway.
You lifted up your arms above your head with the cigarette in one hand, swaying your body back and forth and singing along, with your head held up high. The twilight sky seeped though the opened window, turning your living room into a lush blue hue, illuminating your already light blue floral adornment while darkening the rest of the flat into darker shades of purple contours.
You boogied and let yourself free, your body finding its way to each corner of the flat. You kept your eyes closed for the most part, letting yourself feel the strains and chords of the day, melting into a simple bliss of song. You moved your fragile, elegant body in ways that would be hard for anyone to keep their eyes off of; especially Joker, since he was already silently watching you from the doorway that led straight to the living area. You kept going, completely oblivious to his presence that had been muffled to the unnecessary loud music that seemed like it could shake the whole damn building.
He moved his forearm against the opened door frame, getting himself more comfortable as he watched you in complete amusement. This was clearly a routine for him too. He enjoyed nothing more than coming home and catching you in the act at your most tasteful state. He was infatuated by the way you’ve changed, with your afresh freedom that he created for you. For the both of you.
He started to tap his foot, his green oceans flicking back and forth as to follow your every move. His red painted lips turned upwards into a wicked smirk, nodding his head with chuckles escaping his throat.
“And darling when the morning comes
And I see the morning sun
I wanna be the one with you”
Joker sang out loud to you. You wiped your body around to find him leaned lazily against the door frame. Pure excitement boiled up your spine to the site of his return as you smiled broadly. Joker’s eyes twinkled to your contagious, beaming grin, causing his smile to grow even wider. You lifted your arms outward with your cigarettes still in your hand as you sung back:
“We can make it just the two of us!”
The saxophone that played in the song had begun as Joker swayed his way over to you, graceful in his bouncing steps, pulling his hands in front of his face in a silly attempt to fake-play the instrument. He kept going in a desperate plead to make you laugh until he was up close to you. And oh did it work. You couldn’t get enough of his absurdity. You laughed audibly over the fading out music, flicking your cigarette to the ash tray by the table that laid next to you so you could stretch out your open arms for a well needed embrace.
“There’s that laugh” Joker cracked out lovingly.
He reached in for your welcoming embrace and held you for what felt like forever. The only sounds now just being the radio talk show host:
“And there you have it folks. Our next song here will get that fog out of your brains. We are all disheartened from all the terrible riots that have been happening all over here in Gotham. So wind down, grab a glass of wine, and kick back to this one..”
(Listen To: Come and Get Your Love - Redbone)
“I’ve missed you” you breathed as you clung to his red suit.
“Shhh, I fucking love this song”
“Wha—“
“Shh” he hissed again “dance with me love”
You complied with a over dramatic eye roll along with a smirk as Joker grabbed your hips and gently started to move your body along with his own. He didn’t even give you any time to take in more of his scent or even be greeted with his usual array of kisses that he leaves all over your face and chest. Once there was music involved, no matter where or what time of day, Joker was clearly unable to contain himself from boogieing down and giving his full attention to anything else. You didn’t care however...actually, you fucking loved it. Nothing was hotter to you than watching him dance. Music or no music. It didn’t matter. His moves would never look as good on anyone else but himself. It sent you in a trance and always sent sparks of butterflies up your core. Actually, it was even more hot when he dances up against you; especially to music like this that forced the both of you to rub up against each other, other than the usual slow dancing and floor dips. Dancing to songs like this made you desire more of him. His confidence dripping off like pure honey, drizzling off the spoon.
Joker spun you around so your back was flush against his chest. He crossed your arms in front of your own chest and kept hold of your forearms as he moved his own hips back and forth, grinding against you. His unruly green locks bounced against the back of his shoulders enticingly. You followed along matching his rhythm, leaning your head back slightly so you can look up at his authentic, painted features. A smile plastered on your face as Joker leaned down and kissed the front of your exposed neck. You both continued to dance back and forth.
The bass that reverberated the entire building enveloped the moans that cracked out of your throat when he forced his tongue out to lap at the sensitive skin. Joker didn’t have to hear it to know what he was doing to you. He actually smirked against the pulsing point of your throat as it quickened. He could also feel the vibrations from your throat too as you whimpered.
“Heeyy“ He sung against your neck, you could feel his hot breath as his face nuzzled against you.
“Heeyy” you replied for the next verse. You both kept your eyes closed, both very aware of each other’s giddy, foolish smiles.
You gasped internally as Joker brought his mouth up to your ear, tucking a strand behind it as he spoke:
“I know what this does to you. I can feel your legs trembling”
“Then do something about it.” you teased back, making sure to keep the innocence in your voice as you spoke softly, though you couldn’t hide the shudder that ran through your body to his words.
Joker hummed in response. Your bodies just kept moving in a silent game of who can make the other give in first. It was Joker’s turn as he let go of your crossed arms and slid his rough hands down the seem of your dress, stopping at the front of your hips and grabbing down. Your breath hinged, cursing internally to yourself for telling him long ago that this was your sensitive spot.
Your heat was starting to drip to the inside of your thighs, you swallowed hard in anticipation of realizing it was now your turn. But before you could even think of what to do to get him going, the music ended.
“That’s alright” you thought to yourself. “I don’t need music to win”.
Apparently you did as you realized Joker had let go of you now. You stayed facing away from him for a few seconds as the talk show host invaded the silence that resided the room. You turned around to meet his gaze which you thought was right behind you, but instead watched as he was actually over in the kitchen area, pouring 2 glasses a wine for the both of you.
“Hey! That’s not fair! It was my turn!”
He seemed to ignore your clamor but held a small, smug grin which didn’t seem so small with that exaggerating, red stained smile. He made his way over with the 2 wine glasses, passing one over to you. You snatched it out of his hands, waiting for an explanation on leaving you this flustered.
“Your turn for what darling? I can’t dance all night. And besides..” he paused to reach down to the coffee table, grabbing his cigarette and lighting it. “That radio guy was really making me crave some wine”
Your lips parted slightly in bewilderment. Joker on the other hand took a long drag off his cigarette, looking deep into your dilated pupils. He was eating up all of your sweet reactions, it was such a drug to him, watching you be a writhing, flustered mess. You were completely unaware of the fact that this was still Joker’s turn. And he was winning. You never stood a chance and deep down you knew better.
You didn’t move and kept your eyes locked on him as he gave you a half chuckle. He held his cigarette with his mouth while he walked passed you to get to the tv, switching it on before making his way back to the couch. You turned to get out of his way but stayed standing still with the wine glass in your hand. You were feeling rather speechless on what to do or say next. Joker sat down gently on the couch as to not spill his brim-filled beverage. He kept his legs spread out and reached out his arms to the back of the couch lazily. He stared at you for a moment again, so you crossed your arms childishly and formed your lips into a pout.
“Yes?” You asked.
“I can’t see the T.V doll, could you move for me?”
His words stung straight to your chest. You were still completely unaware of his little game, prudishly under his control and he knew it. This was only making him radiate even more confidence. You stepped out of his way and stood to the side. You held your glass of wine with both hands, as if suddenly forgetting how to properly hold it due to how unnerved you were still feeling. You were extremely frustrated with the arousal you were still experiencing. It had all stopped so abruptly and all you craved in this moment was his hands on your soft skin again. Your skin tingled from being especially touch starved in this moment.
Your frustrations got the best of you as you failed to notice Joker’s enlarged pupils boaring into your innocent form. He was clearly satisfied with himself for thoroughly throwing you off. He was in control now. Your thoughts were finally interrupted as Joker cleared his throat. You snapped your head up to look him in the face, causing him to grin widely at seeing your flushed cheeks. You waited for him to speak but instead watched as he placed his already half drunken wine glass gently down on the side table, then using that now free hand to pat on his lap.
“Come”
He didn’t even need to say anything for you to know he wanted you to straddle him while he watched T.V. It had also become a routine for you and Joker’s down time. You sighed, ultimately giving up and walking over to him with a sheepish, tired smile painted on your lips. You sucked down most of your wine before taking your place on his lap. He didn’t move a muscle as you tried to get yourself comfortable, though it was hard seeing how, for some reason, he wasn’t closing his legs enough for you to be able to saddle him with one leg on each side of him. You didn’t think much of it though, you got comfy anyways by placing one leg on each side of just one of his legs, then lying down your head against his red suited chest to close your eyes and let the wine lull you into a dizzy nap.
You were struggling however, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joker’s hands on you just minutes ago. You felt slightly ashamed by how wet you were still getting underneath your sundress. You needed some friction more than ever right now. So you slowly started to move your hips against his thigh, oh so carefully as to not get him to notice. You acted it out as if you were just repositioning yourself.
Joker smirked wickedly as he kept his eyes to the T.V. , he had the news on which played a segment about himself. Though it wasn’t the purpose for his smug smirk - he knew exactly what you were doing. You had fell right into his trap, just how he wanted it..
“It’s okay darling, go ahead, rub yourself on me” his voice cracked a little
Blood rushed to your ears from his words. Your head snapped up drastically as you looked into his eyes, which flicked casually from the T.V to meet yours. You could see his dilated pupils now.
Was this his plan all along?
Joker watched as your rosy cheeks turned into a deeper red, flushing down all the way to your breasts. His gaze dipped down until stopping at your heaving chest. He swallowed trying to rewet his mouth, then licked the button of his lip before bringing his thigh up just gently enough to reach your heat, causing you to twitch slightly.
“Come on, don’t be shy now”
His words mixed with his relaxed posture was driving you crazy. Juices were soaking your panties at this point as butterflies continued to dance in your veins. You’ve never rubbed yourself against your Joker’s thigh before, so you complied timidly, steadying yourself first by placing your hands gently on his broad shoulders. You positioned and grounded your swollen bud on the right spot, instantly feeling the warmth that took shelter under his pant leg. You were a little too embarrassed to look him in the eyes yet, so you curled your back forwards slightly to give yourself room to rest your head into the crook of his neck. You could feel his pulse point quicken as you began to move yourself back and forth. Once you leaned down under his chin, Joker lifted his head slightly to give himself room to place his cigarette between his lips without interrupting you. His cigarette hung loosely from his mouth while his hands found their way back to the backs of the couch.
His eyes stayed locked to the T.V as you continued to grind on him; He wasn’t watching it however. His eyes stayed locked in on the reflection of the television, observing each and every motion of how you got off on him. How your (y/h/c) hair fell messily around your shoulders, down your back as you moved yourself on him.
Your breathe was getting more and more rigid as you continued. You were already feeling the tightness build up in your abdomen and your breath started to turn into whines that muffled themselves into his suit. You twisted your arm around the back of his neck more to get a better angle, you needed as much friction as possible. You were starting to get really close to your release. And Joker could tell because you finally brought your head up to face him. He his eyes caught yours in a heavy glare. Your flushed face watched him. He still acted almost careless but you could tell it was still his game since his eclipsed, barley visible green rings around the pupil of his eyes gave it away. His stare alone was enough for you to come undone.
Joker’s cigarette still stayed loosely between his thin red lips but his arms finally made their way off the couch and his hand traveled to your hips. Your maneuvers were becoming way out of sync so he gripped down hard with his calloused hands, moving you rapidly and roughly. His eyes flicked back and forth casually, multiple times until eventually resting where your blue floral trim met with your silky skin. The skirt of your dress had risen quite a bit from Joker’s hands. His head tilted just slightly enough to get a better look at how your juices were visible on this part of your thigh, shimmering from the dim light of the living room. You finally heard a low grumble accumulate in his throat. And your left knee could now feel the bulge that started to take over his pants.
This was enough for you now. You couldn’t take anymore as you threw your whole being into Joker’s loose embrace, sending out a loud cry as waves of your orgasm washed over your trembling frame. Joker let go of your hips, now just ghosting his hands over them to let you ride out your climax. You grabbed fistfuls of his red suit in your hands. Your legs shook violently around him until you could catch your breath. You were calming down but you were still a writhing mess. Joker didn’t move yet so you slowly brought your head up. His eyes looked at you for just a second before taking the last drag of the stub of a cigarette that still poked out of his mouth. He took one hand and discarding it in the ashtray next to him on the side table. He leaned his attention back to you, now looking straight down right on his suite to see all the drool you had left on it. His eyes then traveled to the bottom of your skirt again that displayed delicately to cover all your cum faultlessly. Your eyes darted all around him desperately waiting for any kind of reaction from him. Anything
“Lift up that pretty little dress of yours and show me the mess you’ve made” his voice came out hoarse and flat. Almost unamused
You obeyed, but you couldn’t tell what game he was playing now. Was he really unimpressed with you pleasing yourself on him for the first time ever? Did you really do that bad of a job? Was the way you did it unattractive? You internally nodded your head no, since you still could feel his hardened cock against your knee. He was obviously pleased.
With one last hesitating look, you slowly hiked up your skirt; you were wearing white panties but when Joker’s eyes fell on your mess, he saw how you have came so much that your thong was completely soaked, and see through. The white fabric clung to your pussy, defining your glistening folds. Joker swallowed hard and you could almost hear his heart beating faster in his chest. He let a few rigid breaths before letting out a small series of throaty chuckles. He lifted his head back up to you and you were caught off guard by a charming, wide smile:
“I win..”
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Tagging everyone involved in ask post:. @ithinkimaperson @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend @jokerflecker @the-queen-of-things @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @ohallthecrushes @lynnesm @into-crazy @obsessedandthirsty @mrsjokerphoenix @jokerownsmysoul @sweet-nothings04 @ajokeformur-ray
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Text
The Bad Guy (G.D. Gang AU)
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Summary: The world sees him as Grayson Dolan - the CEO of Dolan enterprises, an entrepreneur. Y/N will soon find a much darker side to the world’s favorite bachelor.  
Warnings: language, alcohol use, smut, fluff, angst, violence…
Word count: 27.6k
The Bad Guy Masterlist
A week I had been down here, listening to Grayson’s stubborn grunts and dry chuckles, coated in defiance and poison. A week I had spent in the cold, dark basement as leverage where I had been beaten and degraded in hopes of breaking him.
I’m not afraid anymore. Not for myself, but for him alone. Hearing them take turns torturing the man I had come to love in spite of my better judgement, I knew if he didn’t give them information they seek it would be his end.
Me?
I knew how my story would end. I think I knew it since the moment I said ‘fuck it’ and gave my heart to Grayson Dolan, leader of the most powerful gang on US soil.
I knew what would happen to me; that I’d meet my end at the edge of a sharp blade or at the barrel of a gun. I just didn’t know who would be on the other end.
It would be to break him, the final nail in the coffin.
They’ve tried hurting me in front of him, but he barely budged. He didn’t even flinch when I took punch after punch until I passed out. The merciless, unemotional coldness in his eyes never withered. His claim of no attachment to me remained despite their threats.
It stung, even knowing he said it in hopes of my release.
My skin has ruptured above the growing purple blooms. Every movement hurts. I am battered on the inside worse than any broken bone and without a doctor who can even detect the damage.
I sat curled up against the wall, shivering in my underwear and clutching to the already faded scent of his shirt. It was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured people, not only Grayson’s. I’ve learned to distinguish the sounds for Grayson never once screamed, not even when he was walking the line of life and death. He’s too proud to give them the satisfaction.
The never-ending punches from down the hall, behind the steel doors, they never stop. Angry shouting never stops.
Until they do.
Quick, heavy footsteps near me. Determined walking, I could tell. It wasn’t a good sign for me, not after the last time. The last time ended with me coughing up a lung and him losing consciousness after they punched him so hard I could have sword his neck broke.
The door opens and I jump to my feet, placing an invisible mask of stubborn fearlessness, hoping to hide my true emotions.
“Walk.” The order is simple, just as the gun pointed at my head. The man tilts his head, instructing me to move instead of staring at his bloodied hands. The dry blood meant it wasn’t his turn to torture Grayson, but me.
I obey his wishes, knowing I have no choice. It’s either listen or die…there’s no in between.
Walking down the dark hallway, seeing a small light at the end where Grayson is held, I hold my breath in anticipation of what is waiting for me once I arrive.
What will I find in there? A man too stubborn to die or his corpse after all the animalistic things they’ve done to him?
Pushed inside, I stumble forward, my legs weak from days of starvation and dehydration, the beating and loss of sleep.
Lips quivering, I look away from the barely recognizable image of the man I love. His face is made out of blood and bruises, cuts on every inch of his once impeccable skin. His eyes are swollen over, barely open and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. His hair is matted, no longer styled immaculate as he wore it before. He’s shirtless, only giving way for more injuries that line his body.
He’s barely alive, but he still refuses to talk.
I’m not even sure what this man wants from us, nor what Grayson did to anger him. I just know it will end us both if he keeps up his nonnegotiable attitude.
Refusing to cry, I keep my pieces close, not allowing them to shatter. If I shatter right now, I didn’t know what it would do to him.
“Now. I’ve had a change of heart.” The man smirks, putting a hand around me carelessly. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, trying hard to restrain myself from acting up when I know I’m no match for him. I try my best not to look at Grayson, averting my eyes to the ground instead.
“I’m willing to let you go.” He says slyly, his raw voice brutal against my ear. Disgusted by his proximity, I struggle against him, shooting my right leg out but my movements are far too slow. Hands moving from my waist, the stranger seized my arms, trapping them to my side.
“It’s obvious this one will not admit to anything to save you…so…I want to offer you an out.” His tongue brushed my earlobe, forcing me to hold back on gagging as nauseating swirls began to dance in my very empty stomach.
He slides his hand down my right arm, forcing something cold and heavy in the palm of my hand. He wraps my fingers around the metal, his breath that smells of cigarettes and alcohol overwhelming my senses.
“Make the shot and you can go free.” That’s when I realized what he gave me. A gun.
“Try anything and my men will blow both your brains out.” He warns, finally stepping away from me.
I lift my hand up, biting down on my lower lip mercilessly as I gaze upon the deadly weapon in my possession. I’m trying to figure out if trying to aim the gun at someone else would be possible.
Closing my eyes with a slight shake of my head, I aim the gun at a calm Grayson and meet his gaze.
There is nothing behind the hazel swirls I loved so dearly, not a trace of the man I cherished. His eyes aren’t even hazel anymore, but brown and bloodied, barely giving way to the color I adored.
In those earthy hues was his soul, not in the way those cheesy romance novels described, so obsessed with lust, but with the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven you wish to be a part of. A heaven I got to be a part of.
That’s all gone now.
“Maybe this will make it easier for you.” The man speaks up, noticing the continuous trembling of my hands, my entire body at that.
“The very first night we took you, I told him we’d kill you…after taking turns raping you. He said: do as you please. She means nothing to me.” My eyes widen at the words, feeling as if I’ll break like a porcelain figurine. Once I break, nothing will put me back together again. Not even Grayson.
Could he ever say such a thing?
Could he sacrifice me for his business?
He always told me I’d never be his priority, so is this him keeping his word?
My rage grew, but I knew I’d never be able to pull the trigger. I might not be his priority, but he’s always been mine. I can hate him for his actions, never forgive him for what he had done…but he won’t die by my hand.
Not tonight.
I shook my head rapidly disallowing my second thoughts to get the better of me. Faltering, the gun is ripped out of my hand and I whimper at the forceful takeover.
“That’s disappointing.” He spat at me, but I didn’t fret.
They untie Grayson, placing the gun in his hand as well. He wouldn’t do this to me. I’m not afraid.
Faith - mine floated away from me a very long time ago, like a leaf being pulled away on the tide, and into the sea to become lost and alone, likely drowned. But I have faith in Grayson. I’ve always trusted him, not doubting he’d protect me.
That’s why this is much more painful than it had to be.
Without a second thought, in a single heartbeat, he aimed the gun at me and cocked his head.
“Sorry darling. Nothing personal.” And then he pulled the trigger.
One year earlier
Have you ever felt change in the air? Like something big, unstoppable is coming for you, prepared to turn your life around into something you can’t recognize?
I’ve felt that this entire day, deep in my bones.
Driving to a night shift at a bar wasn’t a part of that feeling. That’s routine. At least for me it is.
It’s been that way ever since I moved to New York and started classes in NYU because I couldn’t afford tuition in Columbia, my dream school. I wanted to study medicine, to get a degree and make my parents proud. They say that children rarely surpass what their parents became and I came from a salesman and a music teacher that were born and raised in a town so small it doesn’t show on many maps…in this day and age, I had nowhere to go but up.
I swore I’d leave that town and if working late nights at a bar in a popular club, flirting for tips is the way to go, then I’d do just that.
“VIP section wants whiskey on the rocks.” Carmen gave the order and I nod, grabbing glasses. Two years behind the bar gave me enough experience to do most things with eyes closed, but when it’s the good stuff they require all your senses sharpen.
“How many?” I ask, taking the bottle of our finest whiskey.
“Eight.” She bends down, picking up a bottle of tequila for drunk frats on the other end of the bar and I gawk at her.
“This should make a nice tip!” If the guys have hundreds of dollars to spend on eight glasses of whiskey, I’m sure a wink paired with a smile would get me at least a third if not more of the original price.
Older they are, creepier but more generous they get. I’ve learned that fast. However, they were easy to impress. The young guys were those who actually expected innocent flirting to go further and got pissed when I put them in their place, denying me a proper tip at that.
Assholes.
Adding ice, I take the tray and make my way to the VIP section, swaying lightly to the beat. I couldn’t risk spilling these drinks for they cost as much as my kidneys, so I quickly stopped myself and plastered a smile before entering the section behind a velvet rope.
One look is enough for me to groan internally, seeing five young men and three men in their fifties.
“Frank.” I lean closer to the guard, making sure he’s aware I might need him. Although he’s always been there in time, I had to remind him for my sake.
“Stay close. I might need you.” Frank nods, his pale blue eyes darkening once he looks back at the men in their fancy suits.
“No worries, little one. Always am. Keeping my eye on them.”
Extremely self-conscious of my slightly exposing uniform, I take a deep breath and step up to the podium with their table.
Eight men sitting, three standing - guards most likely.
In the center of the table sit two almost identical men, both in suits and looking like they belong on a runway instead of the crowd they’re with. But only one of the two caught my eye.
Shaking my head slightly, I move closer once the same guy looks up at me, eyeing me up and down before rolling his eyes and waving me over.
Oh, here we go.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” I coat my voice in unnecessary sweetness, hoping to smooth over the waiting time that added up in my hesitation to approach them.
I started placing a glass in front of each man, ignoring the fact someone’s hand is brushing my ass and most of them are peering at my cleavage for a better view.
“We won the jackpot tonight boys!” The man who clearly knows no bounds taps my ass and I jump up, knocking over the last glass all over one of the guests.
Gasping, eyes wide in horror, I feel cold sweat wash over me.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” I begin apologizing profusely, hands trembling as I dab his thigh with a rag until his hand firmly grasps my wrist, stopping me effectively.
“Stop!” He practically growls at me, forcing me to look up despite my want to disappear.
“Get me another.” His voice clears as he looks into my eyes, the dark brown enticing me to nod silently. I realize just now that it’s the same man I first noticed upon entering, the one who called me over. Denying myself the pleasure to look at him any better, I nod curtly.
“Right away sir!” I squeal, swallowing thickly when I feel a hand on my lower back again. Turning around, I face the dickhead who made me spill and glare at him.
“Please don’t touch the servers, sir.” My voice is anything but pleasant and I don’t care. Fondling is where I draw the line. Slapping the unwanted hand away from me, I walk around him and start walking away on wobbly legs. Hearing a loud, gruff laugh, I glance back at the table only to see the old bastard enjoying his advances and the fact he got away scot free.
I grimace, trying to hold back tears and run the hell out of there with Frank calling after me.
“Get me a glass of that whiskey on rocks and a shot for me.” I ask Carmen, my voice as shaky as I feel.
Nauseous, skin crawling, screaming inside - that’s how I feel. There’s always someone throwing unsavory comments my way, but almost none have ever put their hands on me in that degree.
“You alright, hon?” Carmen gave me a sympathetic smile as I shook my head and quickly downed the shot.
“Nah. But I will be.” Shrugging, I grab the tray and head back, a little more confident than I left. A shot can do a girl wonders when necessary.
Coming nearby, I find one of the guards pushing that old sack of shit out the back door and stop, unable to contain a smile.
“I’m sorry I -” Frank stops me, but I pass right by, preparing to face the music again.
The table is now a man short, my heart a little calmer.
Placing the drink before the young man, I apologize once more only to find the guard that escorted that ass take his place behind the same guy.
“Thank you.” I whisper to the guard, turning to leave when a hand wrapped around my wrist again.
“You’re thanking the wrong man.” He glances at me, releasing my hand and I turn back around, eyes gliding over the men around him and the man I deemed his brother beside him. His brother is the only one watching the interaction, none of the others seems to dare look at me.
“Thank you for stepping in, especially after the spilling incident.” I swallow my pride and thank him for intervening, deciding he deserves it.
Waiting for a response, for a look my way at the very least, I quickly realize it won’t happen when his hand sets mine free.
I’m left looking at his stylish brown hair and sharp jawline instead, unable to see much more from this angle. He’s got wide shoulders, that I can be sure of.
“Well, uh…if that’s all.” I step back, lips set in a firm line until his voice coaxed me to stop.
“A bill would be great.” He reminds me, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow and I stop, tapping my pockets for the bill in panic. If I don’t have a bill, legally they don’t have to pay for a single thing which means I am the one paying for it. I can’t afford that to happen.
Feeling the crumbled paper in my left back pocket, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’ve been holding and unfold the paper in front of him.
“Wait.” He stops me once more and I tense up, biting my lip.
“Yes, sir?”
“You only put down eight drinks. We had nine this evening.” He points out and I frown, licking my lips.
“I’ve spilled one, sir.” I remind him sheepishly, growing uncomfortable under his unrelenting state.
Unexpectedly, the man stands up and my level of distress skyrockets.
He is TALL tall and very muscular, even under the suit it’s obvious. His eyes are dark and knowing, his nose perfectly shaped for his face, all his features sharp and appealing like something out of a Taylor Swift song.
He’s so tall and handsome as hell. He’s so bad, but he does it so well? Sounds about right.
“What happens when you spill a drink?” He steps closer, lights dancing on his skin as I feel my heart thundering inside my chest.
He looks like a walking Taylor Swift song, but he feels like he just walked out of a Lana del Rey’s song.
His presence alone commands awe, respect and his charisma can make any human stop and forget what they’re doing so long as it pleases him. He is magnetic, electric, someone you can get lost in before knowing what’s happening.
But he’d never go for a girl like me. His suit alone costs more than my car.
“I pay for the damage, sir.” I respond confidently, surprising myself with the calm and collected front I had put on.
His eyes narrow at me, just enough for him to make out my features better in the darkness.
“How much is one glass of this whiskey?” He pushes further and I gulp, wondering if he can see my heart beating out my chest. What does any of this have to do with him anyway? It’s becoming literal torture to speak to him where we both lean forward to hear the other better and none of that leaning forward ends with his lips on mine.
“Two hundred dollars, sir.” I answer, feeling my breathing turn more shallow by the minute.
“You don’t strike me as someone who can afford something like that.” He points out and I chuckle nervously, shrugging.
“All part of my job.”
He grabs his back pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet and opens it up, exposing an impressive bundle of cash.
I couldn’t not stare at the money, nor wrap my mind around the fact people just walk around with that amount like it’s nothing.
“Here.” He hands me the money.
“That’s for nine glasses.” He continues to grab more money, counting silently as his plush lips move accordingly.
“And for your efforts.” He pockets a rather large looking sum in my apron, knocking the wind out of me.
“That’s too much, sir. I can’t accept this.” I try to give the money back when he reaches out and takes my hand in his, holding it captive.
“Take it. It will do you much more good than it could for me.” He states, not breaking eye contact that has become far too intimate for my taste.
“And it’s Grayson. Sir makes me feel old.”
I nod, walking away, certain I’d never see Grayson again.
But he was there the next night.
And the night after that.
And many more to come.
He always requests me as their server by name, somehow knowing it without me ever saying it. He never addressed me by it, but I knew he knew.
Every night consists of him and his brother, Ethan as I’ve been told, coming by and taking the same table in the VIP section, their guard with them.
Every night I bring them whiskey on the rocks, the two hundred a glass type, and every night he gives me a tip so generous that I finally learned what it meant to buy a new book to study from instead of handy downs.
And I love the smell of new books!
Grayson would barely speak to me, politely exchanging orders and thank you’s, but each night his discreet looks started becoming less and less discreet.
Three weeks in, he didn’t bother just glancing at me with his serious face on and a very hardened look he kept steady for whoever would join the table that night. He didn’t just glance, but stare every chance he got. And despite my better judgement, I stared back.
“Keep the rest, Y/N.” Grayson’s three thousand dollars in my hands shocked me, especially when the bill was just a little over a thousand and a half. It’s also the first time ever he used my name in a conversation. And I liked it. The way my name rolled over his pretty pink lips left me in shackles of lust he evoked.
“I can’t keep taking all this money, Grayson.” I leaned in, speaking through gritted teeth.
“Y/N Y/L/N, early twenties, student and living in a studio apartment. Yes, I know the exact age which I’ll keep quiet because it’s rude to talk about a lady’s age, and yes, I know your exact address, but I’d like you to feel comfortable around me so I’ll keep it to myself. You need this money and you earn it every night. I award those who do their jobs well, so take it and don’t question it.” He tapped my shoulder, the air around us turning static with contact as it always does when he touched me, accidentally or not.
“You had me investigated?” I whisper shout, prepared to call Frank on him. This goes beyond creepy, it’s stalkerish!
“I like to know who works in my close proximity. Nothing to worry about.” Winking, he walked back to the table and grabbed his jacket, snapping his fingers and the rest stood with him, leaving as I’m left gobsmacked. All he had to give me is a quick glance over the shoulder as he folded the jacket over his forearm, leaning in as he stopped beside me.
“I’m sure you investigated me too.” His cologne alone is enough to make my head spin, let alone the muscles bulging under his white dress shirt. He fixed his tie, pursed his lips when he noticed I barely blink anymore and walked away.
That’s all it was, just looks and occasional eyebrow raise, not even a smile to spare.
Two months in, that’s when I got my first smile. And although he was wrong the first time around, I did do my research on him in the meantime as he was gone for a few weeks.
A businessman with restaurants, clubs, gyms even, all over the country! He owns a studio in LA as well! His company DT media, which he started with his twin brother is one of the most lucrative companies in the world.
He’s not just rich, he’s filthy rich! Squeaky clean record, most eligible bachelor, prince charming in this day and age.
Yes, I needed a couple of shots to truly take that in.
“Missed me?” He smirked once I came up to the table with his usual order, his ear now sporting a wing shaped earring like I’ve seen in the photos, but never on him. He traded in a suit for a leather jacket, only adding on his bad boy look.
“Those abs? Yes. Those remarks? Nope!” I’m no longer stiff around him, openly sassing back which he seems to like.
His lips curl upwards, the soft skin spreading until his pearly whites showed, blurred with an amused shake of his head.
“Oh! So, he can smile! I can die in peace!” I teased, giggling at him for he now chuckled as well.
A smirk, a smile and a chuckle all at once? I truly got blessed.
“Funny! For your information, I missed you.” Grayson didn’t hold back, which stunned me for a second. He’s truly in a good mood tonight. He’s never flirted with me, not like that. It was all – tortured and broody, all in stolen glances and accidental touches kind of a flirtation.
“Good to know.” I smile, genuinely unsure what to say to that. What do people say to these things?
I felt his eyes on me as I walked away, managing to resist the urge to look back at him. I’m sure he missed seeing me walk away just as much as he missed me.
But when I returned, he wasn’t happy. Hunched over and talking in hush voices, Ethan and Grayson looked almost panicked.
Until Grayson saw me and ran up to me with a wild look in his brownish - hazel eyes.
“I need to borrow your car.” He states and I scoff, thinking he’s joking. A man of his stature needs to borrow my old car? Funny.
“Keys, Y/N! Now!” He raised his voice at me, shaking me up for he never did that after I initially spilled a drink on him. He’s always been calm and patient. This is a new side to him. One I’ve never seen.
“It’s a piece of junk. Might not even start.” I defend my Impala, the only object in my life that matters to me.
“It’s a matter of life and death, okay?! Please?” I didn’t need anymore convincing, fishing out my keys. He snatched them out my hand, pressing a hard, quick peck to my cheek as he and Ethan ran out the back, giving me a view of a gun Ethan had in the back of his jeans.
I’m not sure what stunned me more: the peck or the gun. What the hell does he need a gun for?
Grayson didn’t return the next night. Nor the next one. Not that week, leaving me frustrated after getting a call from the police about my wrecked car, abandoned in Brooklyn.
Without a car, or any answers, I took matters in my own hands.
I walked into DT media every day after class and requested to see Grayson Dolan only to be turned around.
Unlucky for him, I’m not a quitter.
I badgered his business on daily basis over internet, phones, letters, faxes, in person. All in order to get something concrete to justify why I no longer have my car…the only thing I gave a damn about.
Until luck struck like lightning.
“Grayson Bailey Dolan!” I shouted in the lobby, catching his fleeting figure leaving the elevator.
He tensed up, turning toward me with a stony face and a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
I rushed toward him, glaring at him on the way.
“You’ve been a pain in the ass these days.” Grayson states, not allowing me to speak first and I chuckle dryly.
“And you borrowed my car, wrecked it and abandoned it in Brooklyn!” I grumble, certain my blood pressure is off the charts.
“So?” He clicks his tongue, lifting his right hand to check the time as if this conversation is just another thing he wants to wrap up and get rid of me.
“So?!” I look at him in disbelief, my blood boiling.
“It took me four hundred dollars to get it back after it was impounded by police! Two hundred to tow it to the nearest mechanic! And now they say it will cost me more to fix the car than to buy a new one!” My voice echoed throughout the fairly empty lobby, most people dare not look our way just like in the club.
“Again. Why is this my problem?” Grayson points a finger at himself and I am sure my eyes now hold actual flames from the fire he unleashed inside me.
“I want my damn car fixed, Grayson! Cough up the cash or get me your insurance company info, do something!” Voice raw from shouting, I found myself at my wits end, ready to give up.
“I have no idea why I’d do that for you. I had nothing to do with your car being totaled.” He shrugged, walking past me.
I grab him by the arm, forcing him to stop and look at me. His muscles are hard, big under my touch and his eyes threatening as he towers over me with his lips set in a firm line. His forehead wrinkles and a single hair falls out of place on his perfect head.
Straightening my back, I look him straight in the eyes, not allowing his built to intimidate me.
“You will fix my car or I’ll be your worst nightmare.” With my voice dark and low, I realize I’m actually threatening a man much more powerful than I could ever be.
“If you think I was a nuisance before, you’ll be shocked to see how far I’ll go to get what’s mine.” With that, I let go of him and walk right by him, intentionally ramming my shoulder into his. It hurt me more than it hurt him, but it’s the message behind that move that counts!
Next time I saw him was a week later, once more in his seat at the club and my services requested again.
“Hello, my little nuisance.” He greets me with a wide smile, taking the glass in his hand before I have the chance to put it before him.
I huffed, narrowing my eyes at him chiefly to take in the leather jacket, bad guy, James Dean look he’s sporting instead of the usual suit and tie I’ve come to love.
This felt more relaxed, but much more dangerous. The last time I saw him wearing leather was the night I said goodbye to my car.
“Anything else, sir?” I emphasize, making his brother burst into laughter, Grayson himself placing a hand over his chest.
“Ouch, doll. What did I ever do to deserve this?” He faked a pained expression, but a smile on his lips is a dead giveaway this is all just a joke to him.
“I’m not your doll! And you owe me something.” I lean back, grabbing my tray from the table quickly.
But he is quicker than I am.
In moments, his arm wrapped around my elbow, pulling me into his now standing form. I gasp involuntarily due to a mixture of genuine surprise and his body against mine.
Firm in all the right places, that’s the first thing I notice.
Warm, engulfing me in that warmth, that’s the second one.
Smell of cologne and not the store bought kind like I’m used to, but the expensive kind where one bottle would pay for my car to be fixed. That’s the third.
“When your shift ends, I’ll be waiting.” With that, he let go of me and a sudden wave of polar coldness spread through me. The tone he used wasn’t meant to frighten me, but a part of me did fear him. There’s more to the Grayson Dolan who wears suits and expensive watches than it meets the eye. There’s something there, much more sinister than anyone could comprehend.
I rushed back to the bar, still holding my breath as my lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. I watched the clock with dread, seeing I have an hour left and to my surprise, I wasn’t called back for Grayson slipped me the cash when he let go of me.
Confident he forgot, I walked outside and almost had a heart attack when I saw him leaning on a baby blue Porsche with his arms crossed over his chest.
A car parked behind his was a simple jeep, his brother behind the wheel.
“Why are you here?” I cross my arms too, holding my bag closer.
“You said I owe you and well, I’m a man who pays his debts.” The confident smirk of his reappears, wiping all my confidence away in an instance.
“Like it?” He gestures to the car and I furrow my eyebrows in response.
“Your dream car if I’m right?” It’s a rhetorical question, that much is clear. His glances from the car to me only fuel my confusion. How deep did he go when he investigated me?
“Yes. But -” I begin, raising my right hand to my temple, pressing two fingers to it to ease the growing pressure.
“It’s yours.” Grayson states and I feel my legs lose their footing and waver.
“The fuck?! Grayson I asked for a few thousands to fix my Impala, not for a Porsche!” I shout, my voice high and almost shrill from the shock.
“Are you seriously yelling at me for giving you your dream car?” Grayson chuckles, sauntering toward me with the dreamiest look in his dark eyes. I pause, noticing the power behind those breathtaking eyes. The power that's as reckless as a tornado. His eyes flash. For a moment they look golden with warmth... and as careless as hell.
Pushing my hair back, securing it behind my ears, I look at him in disbelief.
“It’s a very beautiful car, but I can’t accept something so expensive.” Trying to keep my voice leveled, I sigh, rubbing my forehead now.
“Yes, you can. You deserve actual beauty in your life…well, beauty besides yourself.” He states, coming closer and my eyes widen, wild in the realization he just complimented me without a second thought.
“You’re not my sugar daddy and I am not a gold digger, Grayson.” I barely get the words out before he closes the distance between us, pressing his index finger to my lips. Tentatively, he traces my cupid bow, then my lower lip as if he’s searching something in the smallest of nooks of the soft flesh.
“I just want you to have something nice for once. Just accept the car, okay?” A part of me felt self-conscious with our close proximity, wondering if he can see the growing zit on my left cheek or if he could notice the eye bags I’ve been trying to cover up with a ton of make-up but failed, but another part of me hoped he would stop this torture where my heart thumped so strongly when he neared me and just kiss me already, ending the intoxicating desire to have him closer than humanly possible.
And just as I give in, gravitating toward him, slowly standing on my tiptoes, Grayson takes two steps back, making me nearly fall in his sudden need for space.
“Take the car, because it’s used. Does that help?” He continues his mission to convince me and I let out a shaky breath upon the loss of his touch. I wanted him. Now I knew that for sure. I longed for him.
“Used?” I raise a brow in question, wanting to keep the conversation going simply to have him with me longer.
“I already had it cleaned, but I may have christened the back seat twice…the front seat a couple times more.” My eyes popped at his confession, disgust at the implications and jealousy for I wanted that and although I’m not an idiot to assume he’s untouched, I didn’t need to picture him with other girls in the very car he’s offering me.
The keys come flying at me and I barely catch them before they smack my chest. Grayson walks to the other car, opening the Jeep doors with a wink sent my way.
However, I rushed after him, pocketing the keys in his jacket.
“Goodnight, sir.”
Walking away, I heard a loud groan and smiled at the sound. Wrapping my jacket around my body tighter, folding my arms over my chest for additional warmth, I keep walking into the night on high alert. Its pass two after midnight and I’m a cautious type. And for good reason.
“Get in.” A car stops beside me - a baby blue Porsche.
“Nope.” I don’t spare him a second look. He needs to learn to let things go. I’m certain he’s never had a woman say no to him before.
“Y/N, get in or I will make you get in!” He shouts, practically growling and I shake my head, keeping my eyes ahead.
That’s when he stops the car and is by me in a heartbeat. Next thing I know, I’m pushed into the car with a fleeting warmth from his arms before the door locks and I find myself stuck inside as Grayson sits in the passenger’s seat.
“What the fuck, Grayson?!” I try to open the door again, getting a smug smile on his behalf.
“You’re walking the streets dressed like that so late? Not on my watch.” His gruff voice and fingers paling against the steering wheel made me pipe down, knowing he’s right. Yes, it’s dangerous, but I had no choice in the matter.
“Well, someone ruined my car.” I mumble under my breath and he sighs, shaking his head at me before craning his neck to look at me properly.
“I’ll get your fucking car fixed, okay?” The language he uses matched his frustration with me and I could hardly contain my smile.
“So stubborn.” He’s the one mumbling now and my efforts to keep a smile at bay fail me and he notices almost immediately.
“Oh, you think this is funny? Let’s see how funny it is when I drive you home every night until I have your car fixed.” And my smile is effectively replaced with lips parting and eyes narrowing at the handsome man beside me. Okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing to get more time with a handsome man such as himself, but the fact he’s so determined unnerves me.
“You’re not the boss of me, okay? I understand you’re used to bossing everyone around and having things your way, but I’m not a doll you can play with and expect to obey your unwritten rules.” Pulling my bag closer to my chest, I avert my gaze to the window, looking out to see he is driving me straight home because as he said it before, he knows where I live.
“I’m sorry.” He says through gritted teeth, like the words in his mouth are alien, acid. I’m sure he’s not the type to spew apologies often. It makes me appreciate the effort even more.
“I just want you safe. Is that a good enough reason to drive you home after I destroyed your car?” He asks, stopping in front of my building and I turn to him with a smile when he unlocks my door.
“You finally admit it.” I grant him a smile, moving to open the door with my right hand when he takes my left one. He brings it to his lips, pressing the back of it into his heavenly plush and I’m sure the gesture made me blush like a schoolgirl.
“See you tomorrow, doll.”
And I did.
Grayson wasn’t shy about his frequent visits and I didn’t hide how happy those visits made me. I know I said he and I wouldn’t work because he’d never give me time of the day, but I was wrong. The more time I got to spend with him on the rides after work, the more I craved his company.
The first night after centered on a squabble for the radio.
“The driver picks music!” He slapped my hand away and I slapped his right back.
“I’d be the driver if I had my car, you know.” I narrowed my eyes at him and his devilish smirk widened at my remark.
“You can’t play the guilt card forever, you know?” He emphasized the last bit, mimicking my voice to the best of his ability to provoke a response and he definitely got one. I hogged the radio for the rest of our drives as result of him being unable to handle my silent treatment.
Our interactions in the club remained professional for the most part, nothing to make anyone suspicious, no one knowing the truth but his brother who always minded his own business as if to give us a sense of privacy.
Night after night, I went to work with a smile, finally content with my life.
Day after day, I looked forward to the darkness that takes the city hostage for hours on end because that darkness brought me him.
‘I won’t be in tonight, doll. I’ll come by to pick you up after.’
My heart sunk at the thought of our time being cut short tonight, making the shift drag on. That’s until I was requested by name in the VIP section.
Happy to know he made it anyway, I grab his usual and rush to the table I’m used to seeing him at. I used to dread it, but it’s become my favorite part of the club.
However, once I walk in there, Grayson isn’t the one in the seat.
“Oh, I’m sorry sir. What would you like to order?” I quickly plaster on my fake smile, letting the professional in me take over as I scan the slightly older man and the snake tattoos on his neck. Swallowing thickly as he allowed himself the time to look me up and down like I’m there for his pleasure instead to serve him drinks, I used the time to properly remember him for future needs.
He’s someone I need to beware of, I just felt it.
“Don’t worry, doll. You got my drink just right. You with a side of whiskey.” The man spoke, his voice rough like sandpaper, my nickname sounding unnatural coming from him. It’s the nickname Grayson had given me and after a lot of bickering about it, I’ve learned to love it – love the way he said it with a longing smile and an oddly gentle look in his eye. This man said it like it was a swear word, something that is meant to harm you.
“I’m afraid I’m not on the menu, but the drinks sure are.” I remark, placing the drinks in front of him and his two men, showing him no fear. But I am scared. You can easily tell who the bad guy is and this guy seems to be one of the worst.
“That’s too bad, doll. I thought it said Y/N on here.” He leans back, raising his left leg up so his left ankle rests on his right knee. He’s spread out in his seat, trying to take as much space as he can and he isn’t shy about making sure I know it when he reaches for his dick to scratch.
Disgusting.
“How do you know my name?” I quirk a brow, feeling my brain catching up with his words. He’s using my nickname, my name and he’s sitting in this particular booth.
“Tell my old friend Grayson, Damien sends his regards. Can you handle that, doll?” Even the mention of Grayson’s name makes my heart pick up pace, the back of my neck now drenched in cold sweat and my fingers numbing from fear.
“I’m not sure who you’re referring to, sir.” I lie through my teeth, hearing my inner voice warning me this man is not to be trusted. Whatever it is that he wants, I can’t let him know about my friendship with Grayson.
“Oh, I think you do, doll.” He winks at me, casually bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip before I take a step back and politely smile back as expected of me.
“If that’s all, I have to get back to the bar.” I duck out of there as fast as possible, minding my walk so it doesn’t seem like I’m running. I can’t let them know they inspired fear, because that would give away all I’ve tried to hide.
Locking myself in the bathroom, I quickly text Grayson.
‘Who the hell is Damien and why is he telling me to send you his regards?!’
No answer.
‘Grayson, he called me doll the entire time and he sat in your booth, in your seat and requested me by name.’ I type furiously, my fingers trembling as I do. I find myself picking at my nail polish nervously, feeling my mind is on fire with the waiting period. Any answer on his behalf would soothe me, but I can’t even breathe until I finally hear the sound.
My phone rings.
“Get out of there now!” Grayson shouts and I frown, looking around the bathroom panicked. I was wrong. His voice didn’t soothe me for I could hear the worry laced behind his shouting and it made the dread in my stomach that much worse.
“Why? What’s going on?” I question, my words coming out fast just as my legs turn to jelly.
“I’ll be there in five, already on my way, doll.” There it is…the glorious sound of my nickname coming from his lips – so effortlessly beautiful.
“O-okay.” I grimace as I stutter, hating the fear that crept up to me and took over every cell in my body.
“Just breathe, okay? Leave everything and don’t tell anyone you’re going out.” I listen to his instructions, but I can’t just leave.
“If I do that, I’ll lose this job. Grayson, I need this job!” I fumble with my apron, unable to untie the knot with just one hand. Pressing the phone against my cheek with the support of my left shoulder, I use my nails to untie the damn knot and the apron falls to the bathroom floor.
“Fuck the job! I’ll find you a different job! A better one! But you have to leave. Y/N, do you trust me?” Grayson’s panic overwhelms me, for I never heard this man sound quite so worried other than the night he asked for my keys. I know how well that turned out, so his worry translates to me freaking out.
Pausing before answering, my eyes closed shut as I try to silence my mind for a moment to think.
“Doll, trust me. Please.” And that’s when I know what to do without thinking.
Grayson Dolan is a man of many virtues, but begging wasn’t one of them. He’s the man who demands and makes things happen. Such men don’t strike you as someone who plead often. And this was Grayson Dolan pleading, asking me to do something irrational without an explanation and I trusted him.
In that moment, I trusted him with my life.
“Alright.” I press my lips together, opening the door and quickly moving around the dancing drunken people. Looking around, I made my way to the nearest exit, shutting the door behind me and walking into the alley.
“I’m almost there. Stay on the line.” Grayson’s voice shakes me up, reminding me he’s still there. I wouldn’t have heard him inside, but I heard him perfectly in this moment. Now it offers some of that comfort I craved, letting my knots be untied slowly.
He’s coming for me. I’m going to be okay.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” That rough, sinister voice made my heart stop beating and breath halt in my throat. Turning around, I blinked slow, afraid of the man who licked his lips and flicked his cigar to the side like he just found his entertainment for tonight.
“I’m just taking a break. Talking to my sister and her husband.” I point to the phone, making up an excuse and hoping to hear Grayson on the other end. But the line is silent.
Fuck. I just need to hear his voice to calm down, but without it, I feel myself slipping into the clutches of pure fear.
“Ah, family. How cute. My family is tight too.” He comes closer to me, pushing back his wavy tapper and I notice a vertical scar running along his entire right side of the face.
“Very tight.” He repeats, making sure I understood him well. The closer he gets, the more steps I take back to keep the distance between us. But I know should he wish it, I’d be caught in his grip shortly. I’m no match for him.
“Now, why don’t we get acquainted better and you can tell Grayson how good I made you feel?” He sneers, grabbing both my hands and pushing me into the wall next to me, slamming my head into it in the process.
My thought process is jumbled, my eyes barely opening from the impact and I feel warm liquid dripping down my neck as he presses closer to me, fumbling with his jeans. All my fight or flight instincts kick in as I drive my left knee up and into his nether region immediately.
He groans, doubling down before growling like a wounded beast. I stumble forward, still hazy from the blow and stop dead in my tracks when bright lights blind me and arms grab onto me. I fall into a hard chest, feeling warmth engulf me and a familiar scent of cologne intoxicates my senses.
It’s Grayson. I need no vision to see when my heart feels him.
“Take her.” He pushes me into someone else, the warmth and smell changing, but I don’t feel any less safe. I know he’d never let someone untrustworthy hold me.
I still turn around, looking at his dark figure over my right shoulder.
“Gray.” I manage to croak out, weak and faint.
He glances at me with his eyes wide in worry and a soft expression on his face.
Until Damien coughs, laughing.
In split second, I saw Grayson’s eyes turn dark and cloudy with hatred and rage, his face contorting, hardening as every muscle clenched and it didn’t look like Grayson I know anymore.
This is a machine.
“Take her!” He barks a command at the man holding me, walking toward Damien with hands turned to fists – each of his fists reflecting light off the brass knuckles on them. My eyes widen and I trash against the man who tightens his hold on me.
I watch Grayson begin throwing punches as I’m dragged into the back seat of a Jeep, realizing it’s Ethan who has me.
“Don’t look. Okay? Just look at me?” Ethan takes my face in his hands, keeping it steady as I hear the grunts, swearing in the distance. I could barely focus on anything, the ringing in my ears growing louder and my vision blurring. For a moment I was sure I saw them both, but it was just Ethan’s face doubling before my eyes. Not a bad sight to witness.
“I’m not…f-feeling w-w-well.” I stammer, my eyes rolling back into my skull as the last things I hear before passing out are a loud “FUCK” and a gunshot cracking in the air as loud as thunder.
**
Waking up to a splitting headache and hushed bickering left me with a dire need to calm my wild heart. Squinting because the light is too bright for me to process properly, I shield my eyes from the brightness with a hand raised toward the ceiling. Using my other hand to help my heavy body into a sitting position, I push my legs over the edge touching the hardwood floor with the tips of my toes.
Grabbing my head with both hands in an attempt to keep it on my shoulder, I grimace from the aches I started to feel in my entire body. The nausea didn’t help either.
Forcing myself to look around, I found myself in a bright, airy room with dominant white and red colors thanks to the squeaky clean look the room held. The walls are white as pearls, sheets a deep maroon to match the antique looking furniture around me. Every cabinet, drawer, even the closet door are a reddish color with flowery and bird themes. To my surprise, there’s even a keyboard in one corner, a guitar right beside the bed and several potted plants around.
All in all, I have no idea where I am and it brings the disorienting feeling to maximum level. Dizzy, barely holding myself up, I decide to follow the hushed voices. Mostly leaning on the wall, I find the door, entering a long hall with yellow and red colors, words written on the walls and paintings on them I barely looked at as my movements took most my concentration.
Finally at the end of the hall, I peak through the ajar door and find Grayson with his brother.
“You need to fucking cut this shit out, bro!” Ethan leaned toward Grayson who kept his back turned to the door.
“You can’t be out there starting a war for a girl you’re not even with! Have some fucking sense!” Ethan shouted and I bite my lower lip to stop it from quivering once I remember the gunshot I heard just before passing out.
“I’m not an idiot, alright? He’s pushing my boundaries to see how far he can go and if I let him start picking off my people, even the ones that aren’t officially in our crew, that’s when he’ll find us vulnerable.” Grayson reasoned, turning back around and no amount of lip biting could stop me from gasping at the sight, attracting unwanted attention with it.
Grayson’s white shirt was redder than the furniture in his room, more than my nail polish. His sleeves pulled to his elbows reveal his tattooed arms tainted with blood so much so his blue ink was barely visible under the matted substance. His face is coated in blood droplets, his neck bearing the marks as well.
“Y/N?” Grayson says my name with wide eyes as if he didn’t expect to see me right now, but all I can think is ‘run’.
No matter what he meant to me so far, this was too much for anyone to handle. He had hurt someone and I couldn’t make myself stay and look at him any longer. I don’t care that the person he hurt was scum, or that it was for me, only that his hands aren’t clean and he’s unpredictable.
Stumbling back in hopes of running, my legs give out and I fall flat on my ass with a pained ‘oof’, panic taking over me once he opens the door and I realize I can’t run.
Propped up only by my hands, legs tucked closer to me, eyes flickering from one twin to the other, I start dragging myself back and away from him.
Grayson takes a step closer and I feel a scream forming in my throat and just before I let it out, Ethan grabs his brother by the arm and pulls him back.
“Bro, look at her. She’s terrified of us.”
Grayson turned his eyes to me, a gentle look in his eyes just as it was when I called him Gray. But a speck of blood by his right eye is enough to keep me rooted and not give into his charmingly good looks. The fear sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning, but it's crippling all the same. I never thought I’d be scared of Grayson Dolan ever again, the feeling so foreign after all the sweet moments we’ve shared.
Was it all an illusion?
“Y/N.” He starts slowly, lifting his hands up toward me in surrender, slowly bending down until he sits on the floor on his knees.
“It’s still me, okay?” His voice is softened, laced with care and worry, but I shake my head in denial.
“It’s not you. You’re not the Grayson Dolan I know.” I reply, barely keeping my voice from spiraling into the wailing cracks I’ve felt tearing at my throat.
“Doll…” He tries, the corners of his lips twitching as he swallows thickly, struggling to find the right words to say. But to call me that name again…that’s not the right thing, not by a long shot.
“Don’t call me that!” I shout, my own loudness echoing inside my head. Forced to shut my eyes until the sudden wave of pain wavers, I struggle to breathe with images of all the times Grayson showed me kindness overwhelm me.
Why is my own brain working against me?
“I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He says quietly, his voice just above a whisper but calm and steady.
The adrenaline floods my system like it's on an intravenous drip - right into my blood at full pelt. I think my heart will explode and my eyes are wide, letting in every ounce of the fading light. My body wants to either run fast for the hills or work to find weaponry, but instead I stay right where I am. Sometimes freezing is the best of the choices, and let's face it, there really are only three.
“Who the hell are you, Grayson? Really?” I question, pushing myself forward to relieve my arms from the pressure of holding me up entirely. I wasn’t leaving anytime soon due to my inability to stand and the dizziness settling in, but I also needed answers.
“I’ll tell you everything you need to know, just…Not now. You need to rest now.” Grayson offered me his hand to take and I narrowed my eyes at him – not only in suspicion and judgement, but to focus long enough to see him well enough instead of three blurry versions of him.
“I can’t rest with...”I pause, swallowing my spit to keep myself from throwing up.
“With a man drenched in blood who I obviously know nothing about.” I finish the words, seeing his curt nod at the last moment before he stands up.
“When you stop seeing double, I’ll answer all your questions. Until then, my brother will take you to sleep as the doctor requested after giving you those sedatives. Goodnight.” Grayson’s jaw clenched before he turned around and walked out, leaving me alone with Ethan who huffed before he crouched beside me.
I instantly relax, refusing to feel guilty about the hurt in Grayson’s eyes.
“Can’t get up, huh?” He guessed about right, a half smile on his face when he notices me nod in defeat.
“Let’s go, princess.” The next thing I know I’m wrapped in his arms, my head on his shoulder as the small steps he takes lull me to sleep before he even puts me down.
**
Waking up once more in the white room I now recognize faintly, I rub my eyes but remain lying down. Breathing softly, I stare at the ceiling for minutes…maybe hours before I’m ready to get up and face whatever the mystery of Grayson Dolan is.
Looking to the nightstand, I find a glass of water with tiny bubbles of air pushing themselves at the edges of the glass signifying it’s been there for a while now. Besides the glass, there’s a pill with a note next to it and I sit up with a low groan as my head still hurts bad.
Aspirin. Drink it, put on the clothes laid out in the bathroom and come downstairs. If you want to shower, there’s warm water and clean towels as well.
Eyeing the note, I see no one’s signed it. Assuming it’s Ethan’s handwriting, I get up and make my way to the bathroom which is immaculate just as the room. It smells…clean.
I quickly take a shower, noticing some blood wash out of my hair in the process and I remember my head smashing into a concrete wall that night as well. It’s probably why my head’s so badly hurt and my senses barely work.
Towel drying my hair and body, I pick up the clothes with caution and examine them. A black shirt that acts as a dress on me, falling all the way down to my knees. A fresh pair of underwear that suspiciously looks like something I already own and knee high male socks. That’s what’s left for me and I have no choice but put them on for my own clothes are far too dirty to be worn again before washing.
The minute I walk out the room, I’m back in the hallway with a little more focus than the night before. The walls are painted into a sunrise and the words written go with the painting – House of the rising sun.
I could smell breakfast in the air, eggs and toast most likely from what I could tell. My stomach turned, crying for something of substance to be given for digestion as the mating song of whales sounded. Rubbing it gently, I walked downstairs, finding the kitchen on my far right.
Walking into the room made life stop as everyone turned to look at me, frozen in the moment and I’ve never felt so self-conscious before. It’s as if I’m standing naked on stage with every eye in the house focused on my every flaw. No make-up, no clothes that fit my body and no dimmed lights to hide anything. I’m just me and I’m painfully aware of that as my eyes find Grayson’s before averting my gaze to the floor.
Grayson, Ethan and two women sat at the table, all staring at me.
“Well come on in, we won’t bite.” The older woman beckoned me to come closer and take a seat, standing up to help me which I’m very grateful for considering I’m still unsure on my feet.
“Thank you.” I keep my eyes on the table, pursing my lips slightly as a plate is set before me.
“How are you feeling?” The other girl asks and I look up politely, faking a smile for social purposes.
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck and then trapped in a nightmare.” My response makes the girl chuckle. She claps her hands together, leaning forward.
“I like you.” She lets me know and I furrow my brows, daring to look at Grayson who’s still unmoving and his eyes remain trained on me. He’s watching me carefully for any reaction, making me more nervous than before.
Unable to stop myself from hyper salivating at the food in front of me, I practically chowed down on the contents until there was barely a crumb left.
“Well, we should go back. The jet awaits.” The older woman stood, wiping her mouth with a napkin before planting a kiss on both brother’s foreheads and the younger one simply flipped them off and sent me a small wave.
I looked at the girls in slight panic, feeling much safer with them there.
“Don’t let my sons fool you, okay? They’re still very much little boys with golden hearts and pure souls.” The older woman pecks my cheek and I find myself gobsmacked with the realization that this was Grayson’s mother and I barely spoke to the woman. The other girl looked a lot like them, guessing it was their sister.
“I’ll walk you out, ma’” Ethan gently put his arm around his mother, guiding her out the room, the other girl already gone – leaving me alone with Grayson.
He clears his throat awkwardly, picking up the dishes and I help him silently.
“You should, uh, rest. I’ll do it.” Grayson takes the dishes from me, his fingers brushing mine and it’s like a bolt of electricity rushing from my fingers up my arms. Retracting them fast, I wrap my arms around myself, leaning on the counter while he cleans up.
“Your mother seems nice.” I state, unable to handle the silence. There’s too many unsaid things between us and I know he doesn’t technically owe me any answers, but I deserve to know what went down that night. I’m probably jobless, carless and soon to be homeless – all since I met him and we’re not even together.
“Much nicer than my sister.” He muses and I smile, happy I got that right.
“So, you…probably want to talk now?” I don’t miss the nervous tapping of his fingers against the counter nor the way he avoids looking at me now. Grayson isn’t the type to get nervous, but he sure as hell looked to be drowning in his nerves in this particular moment.
“Would be good to know why my life went up in flames.” I shrug, pressing my lips together and a breathless chuckle accompanied by a quick nod is my response.
“I want to be completely honest with you.” Grayson walks by me and I follow after without a word. He walks out the kitchen and toward the stairs, continuing.
“We’re about to go full dark, no stars and if you can’t handle some things, now would be a good time to tell me.” Grayson warns and I feel my heart fall, uncertain with the darkness he offers to show me. I’ve always been afraid of the dark, even more so of falling…in any way and I’ve found myself at a doorstep with both my fears on the other side – his dark side and my feelings for him that continue to grow even with everything I’ve learned about him so far.
We walk upstairs, back to the room I woke up in – the sheets already changed and the fresh smell circulating the room.
“Hope you found the bed comfortable. It’s been serving me well for years.” He glances over his shoulder, gauging my reaction and I find myself uneasy, but also excited over the fact. It’s his room. This entire room is a testament to his colorful personality – clean cut, but various shades of the good and the bad swirling inside him.
“Uh, yeah. Really comfy.” I proceed to plop on the fluff, watching him sit on a chair by his keyboard, turning fully to face me.
“Are you prepared to hear the ugly truth or should I sugarcoat everything?” He questions and I roll my eyes at him.
“Don’t lie to my anymore. I want to know everything.”
He nods approvingly, almost impressed by my assertiveness.
“Well, I’ll speak frankly. I’ve always believed that the ability to speak to someone without overthinking your words, to be at ease with someone so much that you trust them with your deepest darkest truths…that is the definition of true l – friendship.” He stops himself just in time, redefining whatever was at the top of his tongue and I nod, agreeing with him.
3rd Person POV
“My business runs much deeper than the world knows. It includes a lot of legitimate establishments, many outstanding businesses, but also some that aren’t as legal to say.” Oh how bewildered she looked, so doubtful and quizzical. So reluctant to facing the real facts although she knew one day she would face no choice, for she was trying so hard to stop the vicious, secular things her mind was already turning his truths into...She was only beginning to know him and already she was overwhelmed by all she knew. But she had to know all he is for all he is all she cares for, but to know him is to love him and so she felt herself shake with fear of falling for a man as magnificent, as dangerous as Grayson Dolan.
“I own illegal casinos, speak easy in every damn city you can name, gentlemen’s clubs – some legitimate and some for specific clientele, gun trading and internet companies, art thievery and many more…In my world I am known as the leader of The House of the rising sun and it’s a gang on a global scale.” His words rip through her like glass shards do to skin, but he can barely tell if she’s shaking because he’s started to tremble himself. It’s strange to feel so nervous around a girl he barely knew, but he did know her. He knew almost everything about her and there was no way of denying it.
He knew her mood just by her smile, noticing the stiffness of her cheeks when she fake smiled at demanding customers and the real one she beamed at him more often than not. He knew her favorite color is baby blue and favorite car brand is a Porsche. He knew of her family and her desire to leave the small town she was born in. He learned of her financial struggles and her desire to attend Columbia. He knew she chewed on her bottom lip when she’s nervous, just as she picks at her nails because her nail polish was always damaged at the sides. He knew she washed her hair every night because he could smell the lavender scent every time she leaned down to put his drinks on the table. He knew her lilac perfume was store brand and nothing fancy like the girls he’s used to usually have on, but he learned to enjoy the smell for it reminded him of her. There are a thousand things he knows about her that aren’t in any research his men did for him, simply by observing her every night for as long as he could without compromising himself. So yes, he cared for her and her opinion of him.
“And that man…Damien was the son of my biggest rival. The man was a snake and he broke major rules that night.” Grayson’s hand formed a fist, the memory of what he almost did to Y/N washing over him only ignite the fire that barely extinguished itself once he saw the fear in her beautiful eyes the night before.
“Was?” She asks cautiously. She trembles and shivers, then looks at him with pleading eyes. Hoping, just hoping not to hear the words that without doubt would reaffirm her initial fear of what truly happened that night.
“He’s no longer an issue.” Grayson replies, flexing his arms and the inked biceps grow under the pressure before deflating ever so slightly.
“How many people have you killed?” Y/N stands, her hand covering her mouth. So frantic of the deceitfulness of the forthcoming actuality.
“Too many to count…But I know why they’re dead. They threatened me and my family. My loved ones. No one can do that and live. Not while I’m around.” Grayson stood as well, noticing her hand fall and her bottom lip is trapped between her pearly whites, being tortured as she nibbles on it.
He wanted to do that badly, to bruise her lips as he bit it while her lips molded with his.
“You can’t just go around killing people! You let the law handle it!” She exclaimed, watching him shake his head vehemently.
“The only justice in this world is the one we make ourselves.” Deciding to table the discussion of morality for now, she shook her head and looked at him.
“So why did I become a target?” She put her hands on her hips, releasing the soft flesh of her bottom lip a shade darker, enticing Grayson to lick his lips.
“I’ve come to…care…for you.” He paused between each statement, searching for words that aren’t quite heavy and are easily taken back should need be.
“And now what?” Y/N tilts her head up, meeting his gaze in determination.
“You’ll be in danger for a while and I can’t in good consciousness let you go back to your old life. Staying here with me is the best way to go.” Grayson’s words make her scoff, but once he raises his eyebrows to her little huff and puff show she realizes he’s serious.
“I can’t drop everything just so you can babysit me!” Her voice goes higher than Grayson knew it could, pushing forth a dirty thought about him eliciting the same sound from her in bed.
“Grayson!” She snaps her fingers in front of his face, forcing him to look at her again.
“You either stay and let me deal with this issue or go home and get yourself killed. Your choice.” He turned to walk out the room, but her hand quickly clasped on his shoulder and he stopped, turning to her halfway.
“I’ll also go stir crazy if you force me to sit alone in this big old house with nothing to do.” She sighs, defeat written in every line of the pretty face he admired.
“You can help me organize my paperwork.” Grayson offered, reminding himself to mess the paperwork up for he always kept his records straight. But she didn’t have to know that.
The smile that spread on her lips assured him she’s on board, relaxing his heart for a while.
While she demanded a different room to stay in, despite his offer to share a bed, Grayson granted her a room right next to his. He wanted her close just in case something happened.
“How do you know we’re safe here?” She once asked him, making him chuckle.
“This is my city. Only a man with a death wish would dare step foot in this street, let alone my house.” And it calmed her for a while, but it didn’t make the possibility disappear from her worries.
Working with him whenever he’s home, Y/N learned a lot more about his alleged businesses. All of them proved to be lucrative, bringing in millions upon millions to his bank accounts. Several of them – most hidden in offshore locations for insurance. She also found him to be a generous donor to many children hospitals and cancer research centers, for homeless people and ASPCA. Even though she absolutely refused to admit it to herself, it made his room inside her heart grow.
She learned he likes his morning coffee black and anymore caffeine would drive his anxiety up to impossible levels which made her restrict his caffeine intake. She also learned he’s very quiet when work is involved, but also ruthless when necessary. She found him to be a little cold toward her, but the iceberg slowly melted over time – finding him staring at her whenever he thought she wouldn’t notice. But she did.
She did.
She found him to be lactose intolerant and both brothers refused to take any dairy products, which she loved teasing them about. Surprisingly, she learned he’s also got mild asthma and so many allergies she lost count of – starting with seasonal allergies down to animal allergies. Even with her love for all things furry, she didn’t mind a possibility of a life without them.
It dawned on her when she ended up running her fingers through his hair when she tried to wake him up in the middle of the night because she couldn’t sleep and just wanted to talk to him. Even more when he woke with a soft smile, tapping the spot beside him for her to take. He didn’t yell or complain of her being a nuisance, but allowed her to ramble about her most ridiculous fears about dark and falling in love or out of an airplane which she claimed to be the same thing.
“What are you afraid of?” She asked quietly, wanting to know what makes a man like him cower in fear and hide.
“Closed spaces.” He sighed, turning on his side to look at her profile – the cheeks, her nose, the way her eyes light up even in the dark.
“I’m not a man with many fears, Y/N.” He adds, seeing her nod with a smile.
“Guessed as much.” She puts a hand over her chest, subtly glancing at him.
“Why do you care so much about that Impala?” Grayson asks the tough questions and she turns to her side now as well, their faces so close their noses are inches apart.
“It’s uh…well. I spent four years of high school working odd jobs and collecting every nickel I earned to ensure I have something to use as a way to leave town. Four years and the only thing I could afford was that piece of junk that took me here. When I started my first year in NYU, I didn’t even have a job or a place to live. Impala was my home for months. I slept in the university parking lot, the night security noticing and taking pity by promising to watch over the car so I can get a decent night of sleep without worrying someone will break in and…It represents a big part of my life. All I’ve worked for, the shelter it provided…an adventure. All of it.” She admits, bearing her soul open for him to see and he had nothing short but admiration for the girl before him. She’s much stronger than he gave her credit for and he realized he can’t write her off as easily as he thought. She might be able to handle his lifestyle, him and all it brings.
Throwing his arm over her hip lazily, Grayson brought her closer to him, hearing her breath speed up at the proximity, but so did his.
He didn’t love her, he desired her most of all. He desired her gaze on him as desperately as the air he needs to breath. He desired her skin against his as the food he’d need to live. He desired her lips to speak his name in ecstasy more than the water as he thirsted for her more than anything else in this world.
And in his desire for her he had lost himself entirely. He had lost his cold exterior, becoming putty in her hands. He had lost his ruthlessness toward her, directing it to any and all who’d harm her. He had lost his resolve to stay away simply so he’d give into her with all he is.
So with that desire and the loss of him, he hated her for all of it. He hated her with burning passion. He hated her so much it consumed him.
Or so he told himself so. For in the end, he did nothing to push her away.
He couldn’t.
Not now. Not ever.
Logic demanded him to stop acting the way he is, but his entire logic went out the window the night he met her and that creep put his hands on her. He’s no longer a part of the living anymore either. She’s become his cornerstone and no matter how hard he tried to deny it, it didn’t change. It’s become factual.
“Gray.” She whispered in the haze his closeness brought him, making his lips spread widely.
“I’ve been waiting for two months to hear you call me that again.” Grayson’s not ashamed to admit to it, remembering his own pledge of honesty.
“I held off on it…it makes us too cozy for comfort. Blurs the lines a little.” Her hand presses forward into the bicep of the arm around her, her teeth capturing her bottom lip once more.
“Oh, doll, you have no idea what you do to me at all.” Grayson leans in, his nose brushing hers as all pretense falls. He no longer has the strength to stay away and she doesn’t want him to. It’s been seven months since they met and every moment since then has been filled with mutual desire and need to fulfill their fantasies.
Her hand moves to the side of his face, grazing the two day old stubble he grew simply because she dared him to. He’s never let his facial hair grow before, finding the look unkempt and dirty but the look he saw on her face as he grew the hair made it worth it. He knew it would come in handy eventually and he knew, even in the darkness of the room, that she bore the same look now.
Her heart races as she glances between his lips and his eyes, knowing what he’s thinking. She’s not exactly a virgin, but she’s barely experienced in sex and knowing he must have bedded girls who have not only experience but incredible looks had her doubting her own skill and retreating.
“Hey, hey. What did I do?” Grayson wondered, his voice unusually soft and understanding.
“I just…I’m not sure what’s happening right now.” She admits sheepishly, finding Grayson turn to his other side. Just when she thinks he’s angry and wants to leave her, he turns on the nightlight and comes back to her side with a genuine smile on his lips.
“I was moments away from indulging in my fantasy of feeling your lips against mine.” He responds so casually that Y/N coughs, nearly choking on her own spit.
“You’re not a virgin, are you?” He’s really not holding back, she thinks, shaking her head shyly, her lip finding its spot back between her teeth.
“How many times have you had sex before?” Grayson asks, her eyes widening and her hands covering her face before she turned on her back.
“I thought you were going to just kiss me!” Exclaiming, she giggled, finding it hard to maintain eye contact.
“You and I both know that neither of us would stop at a kiss, no matter how hard we try.” Grayson cocks his eyebrow, noticing one of her hands drop lower and make way for her to look at him with her left eye.
“Once and it was so bad, I barely felt anything but the moment I was no longer a virgin, okay?! I’m not experienced like you and I have no clue what to do, so stop looking at me all sexy like that and let me breathe man!” She dropped both her hands from her face during her little freak out before sitting up in frustration and he sat up, chuckling at her behavior.
“What’s so funny?!” She pushed his right shoulder lightly, annoyed with him. There she is, opening up like never before and he laughs at her.
“The fact that you think I’d judge you for that or the fact that you think you and I having sex would ever compare to the girls I had before. They were all a one night stand.” He laid down, perching himself up on his right elbow so his damn abs were visible in all their perfection and Y/N could barely contain herself.
“And I’d be what exactly?” She pushes for answers he looked ready to provide her with, her heart jumping nervously in her chest.
“Something I’d like to repeat over and over again. I wouldn’t oppose to call it…” He paused, licking his lips. “Dating.” He finished, looking at her wide eyes.
“You’re asking me to be with you? Like, exclusive?” She raised an eyebrow, shifting in her spot so she’s turned to him. Even without her make-up, she’s now accustomed to Grayson seeing her without it and still complimenting her puffy face in the morning when she’s stumbling in the kitchen with Ethan, unable to speak so early before having some breakfast first. It’s something in common she shared with his brother and Grayson found it both frustrating and endearing. And beautiful. He found her truly beautiful with and without make up.
“I guess so. But…I have to be honest with you.” He ran his left hand through his hair, moving it out of his face.
“I’ll never put anything or anyone before my work. That business is my number one priority. The men that work for me and their safety will be my number one priority. You can’t get in the way of that. Ever. Because I will choose The house of the rising sun over you every time.” The painfully honest confession had her frowning, but her desire for him eclipsed her thinking.
She assumed that the choice would never come and she could let herself get lost in Grayson without consequence.
“Okay.” She whispered, letting out a dash of air she held while he stated his terms.
Y/N sighs and leans up, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. Grayson doesn’t move, letting her take the lead if that’s what she needs to feel comfortable. He’s actually still in shock she’s okay with what he had to offer her, which isn’t much.
It isn’t love, just fun and he hoped she understood that.
Grayson looks as she lays back down, her hair tied in a loose braid barely hanging on her left shoulder as gravity settles in. He brushes his nose against hers, using his fingers to tug at the hair clip that held her hair together. Slowly, he leans down, just centimeters above her face, unraveling her braid one strand at a time. It’s painfully slow, building up the moment and her chest rise and fall with a quicker pace as he takes his time in the sweet torture. His lips are ghosting over hers before he tilts his head and starts kissing down her jaw.
She hums, eyes closing with Grayson’s movements.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, doll.” He whispers as her hand reaches down his abdomen, lightly tracing the outlines of his abs. He moves his hand down, reaching for the hem of her shirt, urging her to tug it off.
Y/N sits up and tugs her shirt off, exposing her sports bra and Grayson sends her a smirk as she shyly groans.
“This is so unplanned, it’s not even funny.”
Grayson eyes her, but the smirk disappears as she pushes up and wraps her hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips to hers. His hands go down to either side of her head as she lays back and pulls him down with her. The kiss deepens and she moans into Grayson’s mouth as he rolls his hips against hers, his hardened length pressing between her legs already. She’s felt more in this make out session than her entire first time experience and she couldn’t contain her excitement about going further with him.
Grayson detaches his lips from hers only to reattach them to the sensitive skin of her neck, learning quickly where she’s most sensitive to his gentle touch. Her eyes close as she tilts her head, giving him more access. He moves one of the straps of her bra aside, enough to start sucking a small mark close to her collarbone. A pleasure-filled sigh falls from her lips as her hand comes up to Grayson’s back, lightly pressing her nails into his skin. A low breath falls from Grayson’s mouth with the sensation, but he continues to leave the hickey, running his tongue over the spot once he’s done to soothe the skin. He wanted to mark her, for his satisfaction alone but judging by the sound she made, it was very much mutual pleasure.
She pushes up, pulling the bra off herself, wanting to move faster, growing impatient.
A smirk comes to Grayson’s face while he wraps his arms around her, bowing his head to press open mouth kisses around her collarbones and down her chest until he reaches her well rounded breasts that he found alluring for months in the dim light of the club she worked in and now he finally had full access, nothing holding him back. One of his hands comes from behind her and plays with one of her nipples, getting a moan for his effort, one of her hands going back to the bed to hold herself up while Grayson’s mouth starts working on the other nipple.
With her eyes closed as she begins to lose herself in the sensation his lips cause, her hips start to buck forward into Grayson’s on instinct.
She pulls Grayson’s head from her breast, bringing his lips to hers before pulling him down with her and pushing his shoulder for her to get on top. His hands instinctively go to her hips, digging his fingers into the soft tissue over the bone. He loves that she’s got some meat on her bones, giving him something to squeeze and hold onto while his mind goes haywire.
Y/N follows the same pattern Grayson did to her neck, satisfied once she’s left her mark on his skin. She kisses her way down his chest, slow enough that it’s becoming teasing. She’s not doing it on purpose, but Grayson’s shaking his head and biting his tongue in order to stop himself from groaning out loud.
Once she reached the hem of the briefs he sleeps in, she slips her thumbs into the waistband, pulling them off and moving to allow him to kick them all the way off while she strips herself of her own underwear before kissing up his thighs and to his hip, around his pelvis and back up his chest, this time intentionally avoiding his twitching length.
She wasn’t sure what to do exactly, only knowing what she read in erotic novels and she was fairly certain they don’t count as proper research for sexual acts.
“Gonna tease me like that all night, doll?” Grayson’s voice is raw with lust as her lips meet his, feeling her core hovering over his length with every nerve in his body.
“If you’re going to look at me like that, I just might.” A cocky smirk comes to her face as she pulls away to meet his stare.
“Fuck no.” Grayson growls, hands coming up to up her face, lips colliding with hers a little rougher than before and she can tell he’s aching for her.
“No more teasing, please.” He mutters against her lips, giving her confidence she’s been lacking. It’s the third time she’s ever heard Grayson Dolan pleading and all those times have been with her. If that doesn’t empower a woman, nothing does.
Without saying a word, Grayson reaches beside her and opens his nightstand drawer for a condom, feeling her smile against his lips. Her legs slightly giving out, she slides her folds against Grayson’s length, inadvertently teasing him while he opens the condom and puts it in place with a few beads of sweat collecting on his chest.
Once ready, Grayson turns them over, his head is against her collarbone, hers against the pillows. He lines his length up with her center, brushing his tip across her folds a few times before stopping entirely.
“You sure, doll?” Grayson wants nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her, but he needs to make sure she’s alright with the way things are going. Before this night they were barely anything concrete and now he’s sweaty and his heart is pounding at the sight of her ready for him and he can’t mess this up by not being absolutely certain she wanted him just as badly as he wants her.
“Gray, please.” With hooded eyes, she’s the one pleading, her hands holding onto his arms for dear life as he slowly pushes into her the very moment he gets reassurance. He feels her fingers dig into his shoulders just as his dig into her hips.
He doesn’t move, opting to rest his forehead against hers, feeling her breath fan his face. Grayson’s aware he’s bigger than most guys and this being only her second time, he mentally face palmed for not preparing her more. He’s just so eager he couldn’t contain himself, but he managed to enter without issue, slowly filling her up inch by inch until he bottomed out, remaining still to let her adjust to his size before grinding into her.
His thrusts are met by her own hips moving on instinct, grunts and moans filling the air and become louder as he increases his pace. He feels himself getting closer, her clenching around him letting him know she’s not too far behind. He can tell by the expression of pure bliss and lust on her face and the pitch of her moans growing just to the sound he wished to get her to make that she’s getting close, so he takes a hand from her hip and presses his thumb to her clit. She jerks forward, a higher moan escaping her throat. His thumb is relentless, keeping its pace until she’s clenching around him and yelling his name, his own grunts and moans coming to an end when his movement turns jerky and he all but collapses on top of her.
Her heart pounds as her sweaty chest meets his head, giving him a perfect way to hear just what he has done to her. He presses a couple of lazy kisses on her chest, resituating on her, planting his feet on the bed but he doesn’t move, not yet.
“Gray.” She whispers, bringing a smile to his lips. Knowing he just felt her first orgasm and that he’s responsible put him on cloud nine. He barely held it together, never ever being the type to fall into a girl and remain there as she scratched the back of his neck like he just did, allowing her to touch him after sex.
“You good, doll?” He asks, barely lifting his head off her chest.
Sex always seemed to be business for Grayson, getting the job done and hopping into the shower before returning to his bed with the girl leaving right after the deed.
Now?
He found himself torn between doing it again or falling asleep in her arms. Lucky for him, she decides for them.
Pushing him to the side, she’s turned the tables on him, reaching for a second condom out his drawer, wanting more.
“Very good.” She responds with a smile.
Y/N lifts herself up and grabs Grayson’s erection, smiling when she sees he’s already good to go. Sliding the condom easily onto him before lining her center up with his tip, she leans down to press a kiss on the left corner of his lips. At an agonizingly slow pace, she sinks down onto him, Grayson’s grip on her sides tightening while her nails go back to digging into the skin, but instead of his shoulders it’s his chest this time around.
Once Grayson’s cock fills her up fully, she takes a minute to adjust just as Grayson did the first time, trusting there’s a reason why he held off for so long. But Grayson is also adjusting to feeling her around him as his eyes take her in. Eyes going from hers, lingering on her breasts, and traveling down to where their lower halves connect, an involuntary groan coming from deep inside his throat at the sight before he looks back up to her. Once his eyes are back on hers, she sends him a lust-filled smirk before she starts moving. Riding him, slowly at first and speeding up as his grip starts to tighten on her hips and her own need grows dire.
Grayson’s name starts sputtering from her lips, hitched breathing in between as her head is thrown back, hair dangling down her back. She starts clenching around Grayson so fast and he takes his chance to move his thumb to her clit once more to help push her over the edge. She jerks at his touch, moaning loudly in ecstasy, louder than before.
“Gray.” She breaths out, gasping for air.
“C'mon, doll.” Grayson pants, the rubbing of his thumb never stopping.
In only seconds, she’s moaning his name, her orgasm hitting hard as she falls onto Grayson’s chest. Grayson’s feet push into the mattress as he pounds into her, chasing his high as he helps her ride out hers. She starts coming down, whispering soft praises into his neck, kissing and biting, sucking on the glistening skin in hopes of successfully leaving a second mark. The whispered praises and assault on his neck are enough to throw him over the edge.
Grayson’s movements come to a halt, his breathing heavy in her ear. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, trailing kisses from her neck to her cheek. An unusually intimate move on his behalf, but she giggles in response, turning her head to look at him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
She moves aside, letting him dispose of the used condoms, worn out to move on her own. She can feel all her bones drifted apart to let him in fully, but a blissful smile remains on her face when he comes back, still sweaty and hungry for her. But he can tell she’s already tired, the night turning into so much more than she anticipated and he didn’t want to overwhelm her. Not this night.
Laying back beside her, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her right ear before resting his head in the crook of her neck.
“G’dnigt, doll.”
While she slept on his chest, he traced her skin with his fingertips. Grayson knew he’s in over his head and still did nothing to stop it.
**
She always expected sex with Grayson would be rough, something out of her comfort zone. Instead, she got intimacy, genuine lust filled kisses and gentle touches, and craving for one another until there’s no more left to give. She got what she dreamed her first time to be. And in a way it was…it was her first orgasm. And she was happy it was with him.
She could no longer deny that she had fallen for him, but she was damn certain she’d never tell him so.
However, upon opening her eyes, she’s saddened to find the spot beside her empty and she’s all lone in that big bed of his. She half expected him to bring her breakfast in bed or to find him nuzzled in her neck, reminding her that Grayson isn’t the type of guy she usually dates. He’s a gang leader and the tenderness of their night together was surprise on its own, the morning after would have been completely out of character for him.
Sitting up with her head against the headboard, she sighs, pulling her knees closer to her chest. The sheets are wrinkled, out of sorts in every way imaginable. Assuming she looks the same, Y/N smiled to herself and the giddy feeling in her chest grew as she recounted the night before.
“Morning, doll.” Grayson’s voice interrupts her daydreaming, her head turning to him on instinct.
“You’re here?” She states, but it sounds more as a question only confusing him. Why would she expect him to be anywhere else after the night they had?
She took a closer look at him, dressed in a suit – all class and little to no signs of him being anything but the business man she thought him to be. His hair is combed to the side and back, giving him a wind-messed-up-my-hair-but-I-still-look-good kind of a look. Sunrays light up his face, giving his eyes a hazel swirl in a brown orbit, one she deemed magical and not at all earthly. His scruff is now shaved, leaving his skin untouched and he immediately looks five years younger than he is. His lips, the very lips she could still feel against her skin, they spread into a shit eating grin, making her roll her eyes.
While he took a moment to appreciate her disheveled look, he could tell she was scanning him as well. He noted the messy bed hair, finding it looks like a dead raccoon and it still made his heart do a flip. Her eyes are dark, entranced by him, but her lips are parted and wet, letting him know she recently licked the rosy softness he wanted to taste again. Barely covered, a couple of bruises and marks were more than visible under the morning light, giving him a sense of satisfaction for it shows she’s his and his alone now. It reminds him how he watched the marks she left on his neck nearly ten minutes ago, buttoning his shirt all the way to the top to hide them from the world. He’s supposed to be the most eligible bachelor in New York and such marks would surely make people talk.
“You’re staring.” Grayson teases, resting his bawled up hands on the bed, leaning forward to capture her lips in a quick kiss to satisfy his need for her touch.
“And you’re leaving.” She points out, a flash of hurt behind her Y/E/C eyes.
“Gotta attend a meeting and then handle some stuff with E. I’ll be back tonight, doll. You should sleep. Still early for you to be up.” Grayson tilts his head right, placing a kiss on her right cheek before standing up and shooting her a wink.
“Stay safe.” Her words follow him outside, making his chest unnaturally warm with glee he’s unused to feeling. She made him feel things he long forgot were possible to experience as a man of his standing, and it felt good. Really good.
While Grayson attended to his business, Y/N wandered his house in thought. She had long switched to online classes when this whole thing began, but she genuinely missed going to lectures and joking with Carmen at the club. She felt a little alone in the big house because when Grayson and Ethan are gone, she’s left to her own devices. Only a maid or two would cross her path, avoiding chitchat like the plague.
It started feeling like she’s his pet – a dog that mopes around until the owner returns, wagging its tail happily. She hated that comparison, but that’s exactly how her heart would feel when she heard the door open and his face soon came to view.
She tried doing some paperwork, cooking, even completed her assignments for the next week, the very last ones before graduation comes. A part of her knew she’d never get to go, but she hoped Grayson might make an exception and let her see the world once more. Surely the men forgot about her by now.
Something in her heart told her that won’t be an option. There was something inside her that wouldn’t rest, forcing her to busy herself as much as she did. It’s as if something isn’t right in the world and she picked up on it without being aware of it.
But when the knob turned and she whipped around to see who’s at the door, she never expected her gut feeling to be right.
At least a dozen men rushed inside, all of them shouting and none of them with their hands clean. Her eyes widened, searching for the one her heart’s tail wagged for, finding him at the very end of the unknown crowd. His left arm thrown over Ethan’s shoulder, his right hand clutching to his side, his face pale and his mouth set in a firm line, barely standing at all – that’s the image she found waiting for her.
“GRAYSON!” She rushed toward him, her chair falling back from her abrupt movements.
Y/N pushed her way through the men, wrapping her arms around his torso, helping Ethan keep him on his feet.
Feeling a liquid before seeing it, Y/N already knew he’s injured.
“What the fuck happened?!” Her demanding voice stopped the men from speaking, none of them daring to speak but Ethan.
“He got stabbed.” Ethan fills her in, speaking through gritted teeth at the same time as Grayson turns his head toward Y/N, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“It’s fine. I’ll be okay, doll.” His voice is weak, but still so sure that it makes her shake her head vehemently, shaking with him in her arms.
“Stabbed! You got yourself stabbed!” The panic in her voice is palpable, her hand covering his wound on instinct.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Grayson chuckles, hissing when his men approach and push Y/N from his side in order to take him upstairs.
“The doc is on his way.” Another one announces, the men gathering around their boss and picking him up before making their way toward the bedroom.
“Ethan, how did this happen?” She turns to his brother who seems more pissed off than scared. She quickly rinses off the blood, not looking at it to stop herself from throwing up.
“The idiot killed someone important against my advice and now he’s paying the price.” Ethan ran a hand through his hair, still matted to his forehead from sweat.
“Who did he kill?” Y/N sits down, feeling her shaky legs could give out any moment now. This isn’t what she signed up for – not knowing if he’ll make it back to her at the end of the day or not. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She’s still struggling to accept that part of him, unable to connect the dots between the person she’s seen behind the painted veil and the one he is whenever she’s not with him.
She can’t differentiate which Grayson is the real Grayson.
“Damien.” Ethan replies simply, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and taking a chug without grimacing at all. He must be used to the burn, she concludes.
“So, this is my fault.” She drops her gaze, feeling a river of tears coming in and no matter how badly she wanted to stop it, the dam broke and the waterfalls became unstoppable.
“It’s his. He could have roughed him up or something, but he sees red when you’re involved.” Ethan leaned against the counter, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her and hopefully stop her from crying.
“He even made us let him walk in here on his own two feet, saying you’ll freak out if we carry him inside.” Ethan continues, making a small smile appear on her lips as she wiped the tears with the back of her hand.
“How am I supposed to do this?” She looked up, teary eyed and searched for answers in those brown eyes with hazel swirls that Ethan mirrored. She never thought she’d be a real life Betty Cooper who fell for Jughead Jones instead of a guy like Archie Andrews.
“Decide if it’s worth it. If you love him more than anything in this world – more than school, your friends, your own life…it’s worth it. If not, then walk away. It might be hard after last night –“ Ethan pauses, grimacing at the memory and Y/N blushes, realizing he must have heard them because neither of them tried to control their sounds.
“Will he be okay?” She licks her lips, the salty taste of tears not lost on her as she tries to clear her vision enough to properly see Grayson’s older brother.
“Yeah. Probably just stitches and a couple of weeks in bed. Hopefully you can keep him in there, because that stubborn ass will try and get back out there way too soon.” Ethan chuckles, both of them turning to the door once it opens and a man walks in. The man greets Ethan with a curt nod, moving past them and up the stairs.
“The doctor.” Ethan states, taking a hold of Y/N’s hand.
“And we’ll be watching something until it’s all done.” He pulls her with him, despite her resistance.
“But, I want to be there.” She whines, making him smile to himself. He knew she already made her decision, even if she didn’t.
“When the doc is done, we’ll see him. Until then, be prepared for days of heavy security around the house. When a leader of a gang is attacked, everyone’s on high alert.”
Hearing footsteps from all around, Y/N settled in Ethan’s side for the night. She watched the cartoon he put on without even knowing what’s happening on the screen, her mind with Grayson and the last words she said to him in the morning.
She urged him to stay safe, unaware just how badly he needed to hear that.
It’s like going through the motions, unable to focus on more than one task at a time and her brain opted on focusing on Grayson and what he went through for her sake. He killed for her, hurt people for her…Is that his idea of commitment? Is killing in someone’s name a way to say I love you in his world?
She shuddered with the thought, feeling a light tap on her left shoulder.
“C’mon. The doctor wants to talk to us.” Ethan’s face is softer than before, reassuring and understanding. He knows this is all too much for Y/N, but he appreciates how hard she’s working to pull it together. She’s in a state of shock of some sorts, but he knew seeing Grayson would make her feel better.
“He’s got a deep wound in his side, thankfully mostly muscle injury. Whoever did this was clearly derailed by him and missed all vital organs. He’s lost blood, but I put one bag up and he’s already looking better. Stitches come off in two weeks’ time, no strenuous activity until then. Make him rest up, take his antibiotics and painkillers on time and that’s all. Anything happens, take him to my clinic.”
Y/N nods faintly, her eyes darting over the doctor’s shoulder to take a peek at Grayson, unsuccessfully. She already knew the basics, she’s a damn pre-med for God’s sake. She just wanted to see her man.
“Can I see him now?” She interrupts, impatient and already moving aside to get into the room.
A couple of men are stationed inside, eyeing Y/N suspiciously until Ethan steps inside.
“Leave. He’s safe with us. You know your stations.” With that, the room empties, leaving the three alone in silence.
Y/N shuffles closer to Grayson, seeing he’s laid in the middle of the bed with his eyes closed shut and his mouth is no longer gaping with painful grunts leaving them. His hair sticks to his forehead, his middle wrapped in a bandage, a drip still going to get him some fluids. He looked frail, unlike anything she knew him be. It’s the last word in the dictionary she’d ever use to describe him.
Careful, she sits on the bed by his side, her shaky fingers dipping into his open hand.
“He’s probably hopped up on painkillers.” Ethan sighs, sitting on the bed as well.
“Probably be out till tomorrow.” He adds, helping Y/N breathe properly again. She didn’t like the silence, reminding her only the dead are silent. But she could see Grayson’s chest move, the light up and down that followed his every breath and every heartbeat. It’s all she can focus on.
“I don’t want to leave him.” Her small voice surprises Ethan, but he nods regardless. He didn’t expect anything else.
“I’ll be right across the hall, as usual.” He walked around the bed, pressing a kiss to her temple before walking out, leaving her alone with his brother. They needed to be together, he understood perfectly. Whether they knew it or not, there was no doubt in his mind he’d be calling her his sister one day.
Y/N laid on her side, her hand in his, their fingers intertwined. She fell asleep to the even rhythm of his breathing, her mind finally calm.
“Good morning, doll.” She hears him whisper, his voice hoarse and her eyes snap open at the sound.
“You’re awake!” She sits up, her heart pounding, her hands moving from his to inspect him properly, but not daring actually touch him.
“Sorry. Had a totally different plan on getting you into my bed last night, but this seemed like the only foolproof plan.” Grayson snickers, groaning right after as his hand shoots up to his wound.
“You’re an idiot.” She sighs, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips.
“Now you’re stuck in this bed for a couple of weeks and you’ve shortened my lifespan for at least ten years.” She accuses, pressing a second kiss on him. She couldn’t resist, needing the feel of his lips against hers.
“At least we can have some fun.” He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile on his lips that falls when she shakes her head.
“No strenuous activities. Doctor’s orders.” She informs him, pursing her lips and it’s taking everything inside him not to flip them over and claim them as his.
“I’m going to fire that man.” He slaps a hand over his face, dragging it down in disbelief.
“And I’m going to get you some food. And Ethan to help you handle the morning pee situation.” She shrugs off the blankets, getting up as his hand wraps around her right wrist.
“I’d enjoy someone else taking care of my morning wood situation much more.” He kinks his eyebrow, a cocky smile on his lips. She rolls her eyes at him, tugging her wrist back into her own possession.
“That counts as strenuous activity.” She gives him a small wink in return and blows a kiss his way.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Maybe you’ll be more careful about getting stabbed next time.” She giggles, leaving the room as he shouts after her.
“IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”
Once she returned with his pills in hand, she felt as if she’s caring for a child.
“I don’t wanna.” He whined, closing his mouth shut right after. He barely had anything to eat and now she struggled with talking him into taking his medicine.
“How about we make a deal? Take these and I’ll reward you with a kiss?” She offered, making him smirk. He quickly lifted his head, pressing a small kiss to the left corner of her lips.
“I think I like my rewards in advance.”
Finally, he took his pills, only to plaster a second kiss to her bottom lip.
“And after.”
**
Y/N’s POV
Having him in bed truly helped me get to know him better. Grayson always seemed like a mystery to me, but now I had him right where I wanted him – trapped with me and after repeating the same questions at him for hours, he’d end up answering just to make me shut up.
A little tired, I laid my head on a pillow next to him, absentmindedly tracing the blue-green ink on his tattooed arms. I knew what each tattoo on the rest of his body meant, but these remained a puzzle.
“They’re waves.” He speaks, making me flinch at the sudden pierce of the silent veil that befell us.
“Waves?” I question, waiting for him to expand on his initial statement.
“Yeah. Everything in life comes and goes in waves. The good…the bad…it’s all perfectly balanced in one way or another. It always reminds me that it’s just a normal part of life, adding a new wave whenever something big happens. Blue for bad and green for good.” His answer leaves me deep in thought, but he puts a finger on my chin, lifting it gently to press a butterfly kiss on my nose.
His finger then travels down to his arm, pointing at a large green wave on his right forearm.
“This is the last one I got, about ten months ago.” I look up, lips parted and my heart stops for a moment.
Could it be?
“The same night I left a bar where a particularly beautiful and sassy woman reminded me I still have a heart.”
Not holding back, I quickly press my lips against his, moving my body atop his. Straddling him, the kiss breaks as he grunts and chuckles in pain and I realize I’ve accidentally pressed into his wound with my knee.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I put a hand over my mouth, shaking my head as I try to figure out what the hell I was thinking. Maneuvering to move off him, he groans once more when my foot grazes the wound unintentionally.
“Oh, you evil woman!” He chuckles, still holding onto his side.
“You’ve made me horny and hurt me at the same time!”
All in all, I liked spending this time with him. It sucks he had to be injured in order for us to have heart to heart conversations every other day, but most of the time we spent together was simply enjoying each other’s company and discovering new traits we were unaware of.
He’s not cold like I used to believe. He’s not a bad guy or someone who inspires fear. He’s not even intimidating. I’ve come to see a heart of gold he’s been hiding for a long time. I’ve learned he’s goofy and spews lame jokes that make me laugh regardless how bad the punchline is. His feet are extremely ticklish and he gets chills whenever my lips come anywhere near his ears. He’s very creative and smart and he plays the keyboard so beautifully, that I’m in awe of this man. Every part of him is an adventure and I couldn’t get enough of him.
So, how did this man ever become a leader of a gang who kills mercilessly?
I get the sense that he’s become torn between being a good man and missing out on all the opportunities life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And I understand that. I do. I just wish I knew a way to get him out of it all. I’d give up everything and move on a deserted island if that’s what it took.
Because I…
I love him.
“Your mother said you have a heart of gold and a pure soul.” I smile, tracing circles on his chest in boredom. I liked being lazy with him, but I was slowly getting crazy from being cooped up with him and I’m sure so did he. The only true contact besides kissing we had was when he snuck up to me and slapped my ass, which became his favorite thing to do.
“My mother always sees the best in me. She’s partial. You should ask my sister Cameron. Bet she’d have an opinion!” He exclaims, making me smile. His lips press against my forehead and I sigh in content.
“She and Cameron moved to Europe when my dad died and well, I can’t blame them. It’s much safer for them. I wish you could see that too.” The heaviness in his voice makes me look up, furrowing my eyebrows. He’s staring down at me, a frown etched onto his beautiful face only highlighting a faint scar between his eyebrows. A scar his sister gave him as a kid despite my initial theory of it being a gang related injury.
“What are you talking about?” I ask sharply, not liking what he’s hinting at.
“I mean you’d be smart to get out of here. Leave and never look back. I’m not good for you.” His voice is even and calm, like he’s not talking about destroying us and the prospects of our future. Does he even want a future with me?
“I can decide what’s good for me just fine on my own.” I push myself up, sitting with my head turned away from him. In my mind, I’m aware he’s right. When does a story like ours ever end with a happily ever after? But another part of me ached at the possibility of never seeing him again. I don’t think I can leave him. Ever.
He’s ingrained in my very being at this point. I am consumed by him.
“Don’t be mad at me, doll. I’m just telling you the truth. I promised you that much.” His fingertips brush my spine, gently following the curvature down.
“Every voice in my head screams don’t…ever since we met. But I can’t deny my heart and run when I know I’m meant to be right where I am.” I sigh, turning to him.
“I know you feel differently, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with you Grayson Bailey Dolan and I can’t walk away from you.” I notice him stiffen with my professions, but I’m returning the favor of being honest. I can’t keep lying to myself nor him.
“People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones. The kinds that are epic always take a toll on people and maybe that’s not us, but I want to find out. I have to or else I’ll go mad wondering what could have been if I had been just a little braver.” His eyes bore into mine, taking in all that I’ve said and I can tell it’s something unexpected for him, something he’s not used to. But he’s not running from me, is he?
I’m ignoring the fact he’s hurt and he can’t, but still.
“Don’t ever think you’re not brave. You’re the bravest woman I know. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here with me.” Grayson takes my hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing the palm of my hand before burying his face in it.
“Now, let’s sleep.” He pulled me into him, his arms around me and his chin atop my head.
“Goodnight.”
And that’s when I knew he isn’t the type that says those eight words, but shows them. This was his way of saying I love you.
**
It took us three weeks to get Grayson back into shape, walking was the only thing he could do, but I was proud nonetheless.
I had to explain to him why the no sex rule is so important time and time again, but once the doctor cleared him, we were back in that bed just as much if not more than before. I didn’t complain because his skill set is off the charts and getting lost in him is exactly what I needed to forget about missing my own graduation. Despite initial shyness, we’ve come to experiment and I’ve found he’s kinky, but I’m kinkier. He’s also discovered the back of my knees are sensitive and he used that to his advantage as well.
Grayson is insatiable, mind numbing and most importantly – mine. Has been for months.
“You graduated?!” He woke me up abruptly, damn near giving me a heart attack in the process.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine!” I grumble, rubbing the sleep out my eyes and squinting at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He softened, plopping on the bed and spreading out so his head fell on my lap and he got a pretty good look of my under chin as I yawned.
“Didn’t think it mattered. You wouldn’t let me go and you were shot. Plus, I still need to get into Columbia med school for it to mean anything.” I run my fingers through his unusually messy hair lazily, seeing his frown deepen.
“How would you like to go out with me tonight?” He barely got the question out before I jumped out and nearly took his head off in the process.
“Yes! Where?!” I clap my hands in excitement, pressing my clasped hands to my nose and lips.
“A place very special to me. I’ll have my team come and glam you up.”
And he did. While he stayed for the first part where it was spa treatment more than anything and joined me for it with Ethan to my utmost surprise, he had left the second they did any real work.
With a very sophisticated red dress with open back and a princess style hairdo, make-up that accentuated my features and lots of expensive jewelry he apparently insisted I wear, I was prepared to go on our first official date and actually see a place that wasn’t this house. The only outside I saw was his property and although it’s big and very pretty, it gets boring after a time. And six months is a long time!
Grayson waited for me outside, his eyes widening once he saw me, freezing in his spot. I avert my eyes shyly, pressing my lips together. If I were to look up my eyes will lock in sinful magnetism with his. Speaking to me, telling me things, suggesting things....he had simple eyes, nothing extraordinary to the naked eye, just the fact that they were so expressive...so honest...wrongly speaking out what his heart was trying to hide...love.
Finally looking up, I see he’s still frozen in his spot.
“Oh my God, at least act like you haven’t spent half a year seeing me without make up and in your old clothes.” I shake my head at him, watching a wide smile take hold of his handsome face.
“You’re always gorgeous doll, but tonight you’re a goddess.” He takes my right hand in his left, using his right one to cup my face and connect our lips for a moment.
Once I open my eyes, I feel my heart jump at the sight.
Behind Grayson is my Impala, completely restored and functioning.
“You fixed my car.” I say quietly, breathless. I could barely form any words before I threw my arms around him and pressed a kiss under his ear. It’s the most precious gift he could have given me.
Grayson took us to an undisclosed location, leaving my Impala for the night because I had no clue where we were going.
Finally stopping at a hotel, I look at him puzzled and he just chuckles.
“You’ll see.”
Arms hooked together, we walk inside and I soon realize this is one of his hotels. The people around seem frightened of him, looking like the devil himself just walked in. But I also see respect behind that fear, meaning he treats them well.
“Is everything in place, Rinaldo?” He asks the concierge and with a confirmation, we move back and leave the hotel.
I gasp, seeing the beautiful garden with fairy lights and flowers of all kinds, roses at each side of the path leading to a table with candles and a killer view of the city. Grayson takes a red rose from the nearest bush, already clipped and I know he’s planned all of this to the last detail.
“A rose for a rose.” His cheesy line makes me smile, bringing the flower to my nose. Inhaling the scent, I close my eyes and let a faint ‘mhm’ escape my lips, walking with my eyes closed to take in all the smells because I trust Grayson not to let me fall.
We take a seat, Grayson being a gentlemen and pulling out my chair and helping me.
“This is incredible, Gray. Thank you so much.” I place a hand over my chest, a little overwhelmed with all the love I could feel from him this evening. He still hasn’t said it, but I know he feels it. I know he does.
“Anything for my girl.”
Melting at the sound of that, we spent the night eating and joking around, drowning in his compliments.
“So why is this a private area? Why not let your guests in?” I question, wiping my mouth as I set down my spoon.
“It’s something too heavy for tonight, doll. I want you to enjoy yourself.” He derails my question, but I shake my head and place my hand over his.
“Nothing you say to me would make this night any less magical.” He stops, looking at me for a minute in silence, deciding to let me in.
“It’s my place…the place I find shelter when everything goes to shit. It’s uh…a garden my dad started for my mother. He never finished it and I couldn’t leave it like that. He always said it’s a symbol of his love for our family. It’s also where he took his last breath and where we scattered the ashes. I was surprised to see he named me his successor over Ethan, but apparently Ethan told him he didn’t want to lead and Cameron absolutely refused to be a part of this life. It’s my place and now…I want you to know it’s yours too. I’ll let Rinaldo know he can let you in whenever you need to hide from the world and think – to find yourself.”
I stood up, gently tugging at his sleeve to do the same and he didn’t waste time in standing in front of me, letting me wrap my arms around his neck loosely.
“Take me home.” I say sweetly, the longing in my voice taking him by surprise, but he smiles back despite the pain this conversation brought him. He’s never talked about his dad before and this…this is the last brick of a very tall wall I’ve spent a year demolishing. He’s finally let me in entirely, no stone left unturned.
We barely got into the house before the kissing started, the tension growing on our drive back and we needed the release desperately so.
“We need to let Ethan know.” I whisper against his lips and kiss him again.
“Already texted him and my men. We’re alone in the house for the night.” He responds, picking me up and carrying me upstairs as my legs wrapped around his waist.
He looks at me, pulls me flush against his chest, lips on mine in seconds. My back arches and my hands come up to his face, eyes closing as I melt into his touch and it feels like home.
It’s a kiss, but it’s deeper than normal and it’s got both of our hearts thumping a mile a minute.
He pulls back, giving me a look and I have to remind myself to breathe. His eyes are gentle, still darker with lust but not hungry or needy. There’s no grin, just a sweet corner smile. His entire expression is soft and almost innocent, a stark contrast to the image he’s spent his entire life building.
“So beautiful.” He mumbles under his breath, but I catch the words with ease.
He sits back on the bed, letting me nestle in his lap. Gently dragging my knuckles down his right cheek, Grayson closes his eyes and sighs in relief. He’s a picture of perfection.
The moment ends and he opens his eyes, his lips kissing at my jaw. Surges of electricity jolt through my body as his lips trail to my neck and he nips at the skin before latching down. He sucks a bright purple mark to my skin, a symbol that in this moment, I am his and he is mine.
I trail my lips down to his neck, gaining a groan before I leave a mark of my own, a mark that just screams my name. Pushing Grayson’s shoulder, moving him flat on his back as I properly straddle him, our lips not disconnecting for a single second. My breathing is already ragged and strangled but I’m not focused on breathing. I am utterly lost in the moment of lust, something I’ve become very accustomed to.
Grayson’s hands slide under my dress, pulling it up and his hands are so warm, fitting to my sides like a perfect puzzle piece sliding into place. And his hands quickly move with a purpose, unzipping my dress, letting it fall over my shoulders before pulling it off and leaving me only in my underwear, nearly naked in his wake.
His hands trail up to my breasts, taking them in his hands and squeezing them over my bra until I finally disconnect our lips and sit up. Grayson gains that usual smirk he always gets and it sends another rush of heat through my body, head to toe. I match his smirk with a wink before reaching behind my back and unclasping my bra.
“Hey, not fair! I wanted to do that!” Grayson complained, making me chuckle.
“Better move faster next time.” I smile, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time, exposing his abs in all their glory. I help him shrug it off and before I can go back to my position, Grayson’s arm is wrapping around me and flipping me back over so he’s on top. I laugh and Grayson follows too, his head dipping into my neck before his eyes meet mine.
3rd Person POV
The laughing subsides and this feeling washes over him. Y/N? She’s incredible. She’s everything he cares about. The best moment of his life is the day she came into his bed that night and kissed him for the first time, trusting him to go the distance. But there’s something with the way her eyes meet his in the low light of their bedroom. There’s a new feeling here, one Grayson hasn’t felt before, one he wasn’t even sure actually existed. And it scares him so he breaks eye contact and connects his lips back to hers before sliding a hand between the two of them and sliding his hand into her underpants.
She moans as his fingers slide her underwear aside and start sliding through her folds, collecting her wetness. Her eyes shut while her hand reaches for the nape of his neck, tugging him closer to her as humanly possible. She moves her lips from his, kissing his cheek before she gets to his ear.
“Condom.” She whispers, voice completely drenched in lust and Grayson moves in seconds, reaching to his nightstand for a condom while she gets rid of the rest of her clothes. He’s glad she reminded him of protection, because in that moment all he could focus was getting lost in her and his mind wouldn’t even think of anything other than the way her lips part whenever he hits the right spots.
Grayson follows her lead and slides the condom on once his clothes have been tossed to the floor. He lines himself up with her core and he watches himself slowly disappear into her heat. He groans into her chest once he bottoms out, her jaw hanging slightly ajar with the full feeling and he gets to see the picture perfect face he finds as his greatest reward.
She runs a hand through his hair and Grayson picks his head up, eyes meeting hers and he’s scared at the flutter his heart does. He’s terrified of the way he gets goosebumps and the way he wants to kiss her like he’s never done before. For the first time, he’s scared of her, but he doesn’t let it show. He just stares back at her with heavy breaths and she pushes loose strands of curls back because she’s scared too, but in a different way.
She’s terrified of losing him for he made her happier than she’s ever been. In the last year he’s made her feel everything and she didn’t want that to be taken from her. Ever.
His lips are moving against hers, deepening every kiss and she’s letting herself melt into him and it’s so worth it. Every tear and ache of their hearts, it’s worth it.
His eyes are dark brown, darker than normal with lust and happiness and it’s got a way of making her stomach and heart just want to explode from the love she feels for him. Her skin tingles and a smile comes to her face, Grayson matching the same expression before kissing her lips sweetly and thrusting into her.
Y/N’s mouth hangs open as a gasp comes from her mouth, fingers digging into Grayson’s shoulders. Grayson kisses her cheek before moving back to her forehead, keeping his thrusts deliberate and steady, not focusing on getting off but just being in the moment with her. His hands reach for hers, interlocking their fingers and his thrusts increase.
Sheer layers of sweat soon cover their bodies and their hearts are racing with Grayson’s ever-growing sloppy thrusts as he starts to approach his high and she can feel she’s not far from her own and this is so much better than any other time the two had sex in the past.
They’ve been having sex for months now and every time it’s fun, exciting, good, it’s always been good but there’s something different about this sex. The sex that’s just the two of them, giggling when they knock teeth or quick pecks the other expects to be long and deep. It feels like there’s actually something passionate, a deeper connection there because there is.
Grayson’s hips rut against hers as they both moan out each other’s names, toes curling and nails digging each other’s hands as their highs hit. Gasps consume the room as she comes down and then there’s some quiet laughter from the two of them instead, Grayson kissing the very tip of her nose and her scrunching it in response.
Grayson rolls off her, walking into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom and clean himself, coming back with a wet towel to clean her off as well.
It’s become a routine for them, the aftercare always just as good as the sex. It’s intoxicating and liberating at the same time, being so open with each other and real about who they are.
So, with her head on his chest as he twirls loose curls of her hair, Grayson decides to speak one last truth of his own.
“I have a confession to make.” He kissed her forehead as she looks up at him, still feeling her heart beating wildly as is his under the palm of her hand.
“The Impala was ready even when you were still working at the bar. I was just scared you’d take it and we’d have no reason to be in contact anymore. I kind of needed those drive backs with you.” He pecked her nose and she gawked at him.
“You evil man.” She teases, slapping his chest playfully, using his own words against him and smiles.
“If you gave me my car back, I would have found a reason to spend time with you anyway. Been in love with you for a long time now, Gray.” With her reassuring words, the couple drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of what the future holds.
**
Y/N’s POV
A loud bang wakes me up, making me sit up in distress with a hand over my chest.
I look to Grayson in fright, finding he’s no longer by my side. Tapping the floor in the dark and finding only my underwear and Grayson’s shirt, I quickly put them on and peak through the door that’s left ajar. That loud sound didn’t sound like things breaking, it reminded me of the gunshot I last heard when Grayson killed Damien.
The fear is a weight on my ribs and a dull ache in my eyes, an unwillingness for my mouth to lift past neutral.
My heart isn’t resting tonight as it jumps to a speed of a professional racer, feeling my entire body tremble with the unknown danger lurking in the house.
I tiptoe to the stairwell, slowly descending once I notice Clevus, one of the guards is at the bottom of the stairs, eyes unmoving and blood pooling around him.
Covering my mouth to stop a whimper from escaping me, I feel the tears running forth and I stumble back to return to the room only to slip and fall. The blow in my lower back isn’t as bad as the fear that cages me when a man appears beside Clevus, a sinister smile on his lips as he starts to move toward me like a lion and I’m forced to get back up and run like his prey.
I run into our bedroom and into Grayson’s closet, wondering where he is…If Grayson is here at all.
I remember him saying something about keeping a gun somewhere in his room back when I first started living here, but I can’t remember where. I never wanted to know because I didn’t think I’ll need it.
I hear the door slam open, knowing I have barely a moment before they get to me, rummaging through draws of his ties and watches but to no avail. I push apart his suits, wondering how many suits can a man own before he stops getting new ones, but he has so many it makes me want to scream in frustration.
I can't breathe, feeling as if someone is choking me. My heart is racing and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save me. But no one will, no one is here. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat, and I feel a drop run down my cheek. I hadn't volunteered for this, I'm not one of those brave people who relish in danger and crave leadership. But I did, didn’t I? I chose to stay…to love a man like Grayson Dolan.
“Hello.” I hear the low chuckle behind me, freezing in my spot as terror overtakes me. Adrenaline floods my system. It pumps and beats like it’s trying to escape. I think my heart will explode and my eyes are wide with fear. The soulless came for a soul, the very thing they could never regain. They came to take innocence and feel the evil joy as they sunk into the filth of indifference.
I’m just grateful Grayson isn’t here to meet the same fate I’m expecting.
He grabs my arms and pulls me to him, caging me in as I trash against him. I kick and scream, pull and pinch, fighting with every fiber of my being. My arms get loose, allowing me to grab at the door, than at the stairwell and I can feel time slowing down as my own ticks down to the last minute of my life.
Kicking and screaming, this is how I go down. I hope Grayson knows I wouldn’t leave him if I had a choice.
I can taste saliva thickening in my throat and beads of sweat trickling down my brow. The man stops, knocking me into the wall at the bottom and I fall into the pool of Clevus’ blood in despair.
“You’re a pretty one, aren’t ya?” Another man steps into the hall and I feel my defiance outgrow my fear.
“You’re going to die for this! Grayson will kill you!” I shout, smirking as the man nods with his lips pursing. He takes a couple steps toward me, leaning down to almost face level.
“I have it on good authority that won’t be possible.” With a flick of his wrist his men move and I see them bring in an unconscious Grayson and throw him on the floor before my feet.
His left eyebrow is cut and bleeding profusely, his eyes closed and lips parted ever so slightly. He’s out cold, unaware of the world around him. But I’m not.
No. No. No. NO, NO!
“I should thank you. If you hadn’t softened this idiot, he’d never let his guard down and none of this would be possible.”
Oh God…this is all my fault. He let the guards have a night off and those who stayed were outside and easy targets.
“Take her out.” And before I have the time to let out a single tear, my vision blurs and everything goes dark.
Back to the present – 3rd Person POV
“Sorry darling. Nothing personal.” And then he pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened in the actual sense of the word, the gun being emptied out before it was handed to the star-crossed lovers. Yet, everything happened in that moment.
Y/N stood in her spot, shocked at what almost happened. She could have never pulled the trigger, not in her wildest dreams would she have harmed him. But he did. He pulled the trigger without so much as a blink of doubt.
“Oh, I guess I was wrong then! Only one of you love the other enough to die for them. Cold, Grayson. Even for you.” The stranger chuckled, taking the gun as his men grabbed a hold of Grayson and started to tie him back up.
He loaded the gun with a single bullet, turning it toward Y/N’s head once more, keeping eye contact with Grayson.
“I should ease her suffering. After all, she’s the reason my son is dead. She got away with little to no consequence, but that’s because I’m a good guy.” And that’s when Y/N realizes who this stranger is. He’s Damien’s father – the leader of Grayson’s rival gang. It’s the war Ethan warned Grayson about and she was so oblivious to it all.
“I just wanted to know where my son’s body is, but hey…I’ll take pleasure knowing you two got exactly what you deserved.”
Before the trigger is pulled, a mass of warm slaw plastered onto Y/N’s face and a guttural scream erupted from deep inside her chest once she noticed brain matter mixed with blood running down her skin.
She heard a blow after blow, looking around to see almost all of the enemies are dead or about to be and Grayson already on his feet, fighting actively.
Y/N wanted to be strong as Grayson once called her, to be epitome of powerful. But after the week of torture she endured – both mental and physical, she couldn’t keep up a picture of the woman she once was. She crumbled to the core, none of her walls remaining intact.
Legs giving out, she started her fall, but the darkness never came as a pair of arms held onto her and pushed her into the safety of an embrace. It wasn’t Grayson, she knew it by heart, but the scent was similar – Ethan’s.
“You’re okay. You’re okay.” He whispered over and over in her ear, running his gloved hand down her hair and he held her close, keeping her standing just by his own force. She got close to Ethan in the past year as they both loved to tease Grayson and enjoyed playing video games or even watching TV as their shows have become a religion, a way of life and the best bonding experience. Yet she never expected his arms would be the ones she’d fall into.
The fight around them stopped, continuing somewhere deep in the bunker they were held in, allowing the men inside to take a minute and breathe.
“Took you long enough, bro.” Grayson’s hoarse voice sounds before he spits at his captive’s dead body and moves to take Y/N in his arms.
“You try finding out a damn bomb shelter in the middle of the New Jersey woods!” Ethan exclaims, releasing the pressure he kept on Y/N who buried her face in his leather jacket and held onto him for dear life. Her entire body trembles, her choked sobs racking her body.
“Give her to me.” Grayson opens his arms, preparing to take her when she turns around and shakes her head.
“Ethan take me away from here, please.” She asks meekly, only tightening her hold on the older brother while the younger watched.
“Bro, what do I do?” Ethan asked Grayson, lost on what happened down there that’s so bad Y/N could barely look at his brother.
“Doll.” Grayson tries.
“Don’t! Don’t call me that ever again! Or anything at all for that matter!” She shouted, the force used tearing at her throat and the words alone would have hurt them both, but this broke them.
“Take her wherever she wants to go.” Grayson’s monotone, cold voice returns, swallowing thickly as he watches her disappear from his view. He knew the right thing to do.
Ethan put Y/N into his car, driving back home with a gnawing thought.
“What did he do?”
Y/N lift her head up from her shoulder, looking to Ethan.
“I understood when he refused to admit he knows me when they beat me. I understood when he didn’t even flinch when I cried. But I can never understand why he pulled the trigger after I failed to do the same. He would have killed me without a second thought. All for his gang…his only priority. I know now I have no place in his life. I just want to recover and get the hell away.” She grumbled, her head in her hands as her consciousness faded.
Ethan swallows thickly, looking at her in shock. He knew Grayson loved her, so whatever happened down there must have been taken out of context. His brother wouldn’t have risked her life like that for no reason.
Would he?
**
Days passes and Grayson never saw Y/N leave her room. She barely ate what the maids brought her, taking her water mostly for the pills.
The doctor told him she has a few cracked ribs, lots of bruises and cuts which would heal in time, but nothing permanent or life threatening. He too was healing, his body more black and blue than anything else. He had so many stitches on his body, he’s lost count. But all he cared about is the girl he had lost.
She checked her e-mail, finding Columbia offered her a scholarship – an anonymous donor decided to help her out and she finally found what she needed to pull herself together and face Grayson one last time.
She knocked on his door, holding her breath and he nearly lost his mind when she came inside.
“Is everything alright?” He asked, containing his excitement as his eyes looked her over.
Her face covered in bruises, drained and stripped of the usual smile she bore. Her body no longer had that extra meat on her bones he loved and she seemed frail…lost.
“I’m leaving.” She cleared her throat to stop the raspiness, pursing her lips.
“This house, this life…You.” She could feel the lump in her throat growing, making it harder to swallow.
“I have given you so many passes in the past.” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling as she leans back on the door to close it all the way and bites her lower lip.
“Too many…But you…you were willing to kill me…and to do what exactly?” She brought her eyes back to him, anger inside her bubbling when she saw him staring back at her. He doesn’t even bow his head in shame, no apologies, nothing. He’s just staring back at her and she hates him for it.
What she doesn’t know is that he’s staring because he knows once she walks out the door, she’ll be gone for good and he needs to remember her as she is now, to have something to live for.
“Why? Tell me some lame excuse, lie to me, anything! Justify it and I’ll believe you and I’ll stay!” Her voice raised in frustration, Y/N ran both her hands through her hair, shaking her head vehemently.
“Do you even love me?” Her voice broke, tears collecting in her eyes as she hoped he’s say anything.
“I promised never to lie to you. You should go.” Grayson spoke, no emotion passing on his face and Y/N shakes her head. He’s trying to convince himself he’s doing the right thing. Letting her go is the best thing for her.
“I’m such an idiot for thinking you might actually care for me. Grayson…You’re the bad guy, not the prince! And bad guys always get what’s coming to them! It might not have been this one, but someone will get you and you will remember me in those last moments of your life – remember me because this heartbreak you caused is the reason why you’ll be going straight to hell.” She turned around, walking out of his room, out of his house and out of his life.
Ethan rushed in, eyes wide and tears running down his cheek.
“What just happened? Why is she leaving us?” Ethan’s voice broke as his brother looked at him, reaching for a red rose that was behind him – the one he gave her that night in the garden.
“You will never know the depth of what I just lost.” Grayson choked out, crumbling the withering red rose in his hand.
**
Three months passed and while it was hard, Y/N finally lived her life. She found solace in school, loving every minute she spent studying. She lived on campus as it was provided to her by her anonymous donor and she even got a job! It was frustrating beyond belief to find pretty much anyone she met offered her a job after she told them her name, meaning Grayson must have pulled every string he had in the city to make sure she had somewhere to work should she want to.
It seemed she couldn’t get him out her life no matter how far she went.
She worked in a small café where the owners never heard of Grayson Dolan and DT Empire meant absolutely nothing to them and The house of the rising sun was just a song, ending her shift at ten every night. It was easier than she thought, moving on and letting go of the past. Until she went to sleep. His face is all she could see in her dreams. Haunting her, calling for her.
Until she started being haunted in the day as well.
“A coffee, please.” A familiar voice brought chills down her spine and she whipped around so fast she got dizzy.
“Ethan?” She whisper shouted, leaning toward him so no one hears her.
“Missed you. I’m sorry if this is inappropriate.” He apologized, giving her his puppy dog eyes and she sighs, pouring him a cup.
“If he sent you…” She trails off. She didn’t even know how he found her. She’s been keeping a low profile this entire time.
“I don’t want to know.” Shaking her head, she looks at the customers in case someone needs her.
“No, just a little worried about you. You kind of disappeared on us and I didn’t even get a goodbye.” A slightly accusing tone made her heart clench, but she couldn’t let him get to her.
“He’s miserable without you. Barely eats or sleeps….He’s reckless and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he’s killed. He even cancelled all his appearances.” Ethan pushed, continuously making her feel like she’ll either burst into tears or cry her eyes out.
“Not my problem anymore.” She states with a huff.
��You and I both know it is. You love him. I can tell.” Ethan tilts his head to the side, raising one eyebrow.
“Just…never mind.” He drops some money on the counter, much more than needed as his brother used to do before storming out, leaving his coffee untouched.
Y/N rubbed her forehead, finding a feeling of walls caving in on her becoming too real. She needed to think, to find some way to let go of Grayson because Ethan is right. He’s still in her veins.
Excusing herself early, she decided to go to one place she knew she’d feel close to him without actually seeing him.
She drove up to the hotel, passing by Rinaldo and walking into the secret garden. She brushed the roses with her fingertips, slowly walking up to the overlook with her heart in her throat.
It felt like that night he brought her here, the distant echo was still alive and frozen in time. Maybe this is what she needs, closure.
Sitting down crisscrossed, she rests her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, watching the city lights burn brighter as the darkness consumed the day.
A part of her felt almost peaceful, while the other raged on. It was a never ending battle inside her – one part of her loving him and the other hating him. Maybe that’s life.
Trusts are broken, lies are told. For us to believe in what we seek, we must know what it means to be what we don't want to be. Being sad makes you realize how valuable being happy is. Being weak makes you know what it means to be strong. Being helpless makes you determined to be helpful. Mistakes happen, awful things might happen in one's life. But her trust in him never wavered until he pulled the trigger.
She didn’t have nightmares about the man who hurt her. She had nightmares about the men she let into her heart who broke her.
“I knew the gun is empty.” A voice pricks her small bubble, making her turn around and nearly fall in the process.
“What?!” She looks at him, finding him dressed entirely in black, only a deep red shirt peering out of his suit. He’s watching her with a distant, wistful look, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his face unshaven. His hair is disheveled and she can tell he hasn’t been taking care of himself. He is a mess.
“The gun doesn’t weight the same when it’s loaded and when it’s not. I’ve held enough of them to know the difference. Plus, no one sane would hand me a loaded gun in that situation.” He clears it up, his bottom lip quivering.
“I knew it could save you…after he said they’d let you go. I thought you’d be safe. You’d leave the bunker and I’d die with my heart and mind at peace.”
“Why didn’t you say this to me back at the house? Huh? You said being honest with each other is the very definition of l…friendship.” She threw his words back at him, narrowing her eyes and bawling her hands into fists.
“Love. Say it.” He matches her furrowed eyebrows, swallowing his pride.
“Stop it! Stop playing with my emotions!” Her desperate shout had made him flinch, his nostrils flare with a heavy exhale.
“I did what I thought was best for you at the time. So you wouldn’t pay for my mistakes anymore. I hate that you got caught in all of it, but that’s over now and I…I’m selfish and Rinaldo told me you came here and I…I hoped you were here for me. I just…”
“You took my right to choose. That’s what you did.” Y/N held back tears, everything she tried to hold against him crumbling now when he stood before her as broken as she is.
Shaking her head, she walked by him, entered the hotel and prepared to sit in the Impala when a hand on her arm swung her around and flush against his chest.
Another loud sound echoed in her ears, distant screams following and Grayson’s arms around her tightened as he jerked forward.
“We got him!” She heard some men yell, but that’s the last thing on her mind as her eyes connect with Grayson’s.
“Goodnight.” He whispered, the sound barely making a dent as her mind is racing and her heartbeat is deafening.
He falls back down, her arms unable to stop his collapse.
Y/N shakes him once, seeing his eyes are closed and his are shut.
“Wake up!” She grabbed him by the collar, violently shaking him.
“Wake up, you selfish son of a bitch!” Her voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, her fingers clutching the fabric of his suit.
“You promised me a forevermore! You promised me a fairytale!” The raspiness of her voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside her chest.
“You’re the bad guy, not the prince! And bad guys always get what’s coming to them!”
The memory of her venomous words clouded her sanity, her hands trembling and her lips quivering.
“I was wrong.” She bowed her head down, a choked sob escapes her.
“You’re the prince. My prince. I was just so angry…and hurt!” The tears she couldn’t hold back fall in waterfalls, her head lowering until it’s on his chest. Her skin eyes closed in hopes of waking from this terrible nightmare.
“I love you.” She whispered into his chest, breaking down when he didn’t say it back. She thought she should be used to it by now, but this time was different.
Grayson always chose to say goodbye instead of 'I love you’ for that would mean falling and she was always afraid of heights. So goodbye and a kiss on her forehead seemed like a good way to go in his mind, letting her know she is in his heart without scaring them both with the daunting words.
Somewhere deep inside, she knew it too. She knew he loved her and feared saying it out loud for it would make her a target in his world and he couldn’t imagine something happening to her because of him.
“All this time I’ve blamed you. For pulling me into the dark. But I was wrong. It was me who brought out your dark side.” She broke down, none of her hate for him remaining. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on.
“Is he?” Ethan fell to his knees, watching in shock. His gun falls beside him, no more strength to hold it in his hands.
“Oh, God!” Y/N punched his chest in despair, screaming with her whole body so loudly in her hurt. The scream came again, desperate, terrified... human.
“Guys?” A faint voice stopped Y/N’s wails, making her look at Grayson who just opened his eyes in confusion.
“You son of a bitch!” She slaps him, standing up with the back of her hand at her mouth as both guys let out a strong of ‘Hey’s!’
“What did our ma’ ever do to you?!” Ethan chuckles, wiping his own fake tear away before smacking his brother and helping him open his suit, showing the vest.
“Did you just fake your dead to hear me say all those things?!” She shouted at him, kicking a rock in her anger and he pressed his lips together to stop himself from admitting the truth.
“You made me watch Far and Away, had to use it eventually! And you said you do love me, so shut up and hear me out for one moment. Y/N, please!” Grayson stood up, motioning for Ethan to give them some space.
She reluctantly stops, crossing her arms over her chest and looks to him. Fourth time he pleads. All four times with her. He didn’t even plead for his life.
“I know your world would be much easier without me, that’s why I told you to leave.” Grayson steps closer, wetting his lips.
“But it wouldn’t be my world without you in it. You pushed me away when I needed you the most!” She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the chipped nail polish with a crooked smile.
“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.
“Doll, look at me.” He uses the damn nickname, the very one that started the whole storm he brought into her life.
“I hate how weak you make me feel.” She states, looking into his eyes at last and he smiles, shaking his head.
“Whenever you think you feel weak, just remember you’re Y/N Y/L/N and I, Grayson Dolan absolutely love you with all my heart. You make me weak and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” He leaned down, trying not to look long at her as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking.
Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.
Hearing him say the words finally took her last bit of doubt and she jumped into his arms without holding back. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the world warmer somehow, her future within seeming a little less bleak.
“Say it again.” She whispers into his chest, getting a rumble in return as he chuckled.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” He repeated over and over until she couldn’t take it any longer and her lips crashed onto his.
Soul meets soul on lover’s lips.
In the end, she was right… People don’t write sonnets about being compatible, or novels about shared life goals and stimulating conversation. The great loves are the crazy ones. The kinds that are epic always take a toll on both parties.
“You’re not off the hook though.” Y/N broke the kiss, needing air as her lungs began to burn.
“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Grayson smirked, brushing his nose against hers for an Eskimo kiss.
For now, all he wanted is to get her home and in his bed and just talk…Talk about what she’s been doing the past three months, every detail he has missed. He wondered if she realized he pulled strings and dropped her name in every corner of New York to get her a job when she left. He wonders if she’s figured out he’s the anonymous donor that got her into Columbia. If she hadn’t, he’d never speak of it. She deserved some good in her life and he was dedicated to make it happen for her.
“God gave me a good, beautiful woman and I have every intention on loving her well.”
With his rivals gone, he slowly pulled out of the illegal branches of his work and legitimized his business completely. He wanted a safer life for her and his family, one he hoped to start with her by his side. He changed without even realizing it and it’s all for her. It’s always been for her.
And although this is not where their story ends – wrapped in each other’s arms as they sit in her Impala, Y/N driving Grayson for the first time ever, this is where we leave them.
Every song has a CODA, a final movement. Whether it fades out or crashes away, every song ends. Is that any reason not to enjoy the music?
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Tags: @fallinginlove-16 @godlydolans @accalialionheart @heyits-claire @xalayx
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p-artsypants · 6 years
Text
Boy Toy- Act I
At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is now where to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It's safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)
I’m still working on Arcadia or Bust, but I have this weird AU already finished from like forever ago. I know I’ve been doing a lot of AUs lately, but I just really love them. 
AO3 | FF.net
----
“No! I won’t go! You can’t make me!” She screamed as she threw herself on the bed. The princess kicked her perfect dainty legs into the mattress.
“It’s rude to skip out on a party,” her beloved servant, Tuff, stated.
“Especially your birthday party,” his twin sister, Ruff, replied.
Astrid looked up from where she had her face buried in her pillow. “But there’s going to be so many people that I’m going to have to shake hands with. And you know Uncle is going to stuff me into a dress.” She hid her face again. “I’m not doing it!”
The two servants looked at each other and sighed. “Why do we do this?” Tuff asked. “You whine and complain, and then you know your uncle is going to make you go anyway, even if he has to carry you in.”
Astrid rolled over on her back. “I don’t like your attitude. I took you off the streets, and I’ll put you back on them.”
Ruff smiled at the princess, looking in her closet for the right dress. “You can, but you won’t.”
Tuff sat on the mattress casually. “Yeah, then who would you throw your axe at? One of the other servants?”
Astrid mumbled. “They always flinch and get hit…”
“See? You’ll just have to tolerate us.”
Astrid sneered. “Sometimes I really hate you two.” She was lying of course, but she needed to keep her servants in their place somehow.
The trio was sequestered in the East wing, what she had dubbed as her living quarters. Thick sheets covered the windows, broadswords and heavy axes hung on the walls. The furniture was in disarray as sometimes her anger would be too much for her and she would cleave a bedpost in two. Only her most trusted servants were allowed to enter, a pair of twins that she had personally hired from off the street with no training whatsoever.
Ruff pulled out a pink taffeta dress with pink-feathered plumes sticking off the back. “Here’s the dress Dagur got you last year for your anniversary. You could wear this!”
“I thought I told you to burn that abomination,” the princess hissed.
Ruff laughed as she stuck the garment in the back of the closet. She and Tuff enjoyed teasing the princess like this. Despite how bratty her replies were, they knew that Astrid was truly happy when people interacted with her instead of just blindly following every order.
She was just bad at showing it.
Just then there was a knock at her bedroom door. Tuff opened it and greeted the nameless servant on the other side.
“His Majesty would like to talk to the Princess in his study,” the shy girl spoke.   
“Here we go!” Astrid flung herself off the bed and snagged her favorite battle-axe from where it was lodged in the fine cherry wall. It was her security blanket, if only the twins knew it.
She was perfect. She had to be. The whole world was watching her, pandering to her, and adoring her. Though that adoration ran dry when she turned away. In truth, she would sooner push someone down in the mud to keep her boots clean, than to offer a hand to help them up. She viewed the world over her nose, and demanded perfection.
Astrid, the princess of Berk.
A perfect bitch.
She stomped down the hall and threw the door open to her uncle’s study. “I have arrived, oh great Stoick! Here at your beck and call!”
Stoick, the Tsar of Berk, was a stark contrast to his ‘niece’. A huge man, built like a mountain, but had the soul of a lamb. He was a quiet man, but lived to serve the people. His crimson beard, rosy cheeks, and cauliflower nose only made him look kinder. No Tsar was perfect, but if the populace of Berk had been polled, his numbers were stellar.
So how could such a kind and gentle man be related to Astrid? Well, Uncle wasn’t exactly a truth. When he had fostered her from her old kingdom, she had refused to call him ‘father’ like every councilman had asked. Stoick had suggested ‘Uncle’ instead, and she begrudgingly agreed. Even then, her past traumas had put a bleak disposition on the Princess the likes no one had seen before. Regardless, he loved her dearly, as he had no children of his own.
A parentless child, and a heirless King. Naturally, things worked out.
The monarch looked up at his niece; her blonde hair disheveled, tattered clothes, and that blasted axe.
“The party is in three hours. I expect you to be ready by then.”  
“Well, you should lower your expectations.”
Oh how she vexed him. “Astrid, please, you’re turning 21. There’s going to be a lot of people here to see you.”
She huffed, “I don’t want to see them.”
“I know. I know.” Stoick stood from behind his desk and dwarfed the princess. “But tonight is very special. Tonight, you’ll be picking a husband.”
Her axe fell to the ground with a clatter. “Excuse you! I will do no such thing!”
“Yes, you will. I’ve told you this several times!”
“When? I don’t remember!”
“That’s because you never pay attention, child!” He accused. “Everyone in the line to the throne has to be married or engaged by their 21st birthday.”
“I didn’t think that applied to me!”
“I have no heirs, Astrid. Who did you think was going to take on the crown after me?”
She crossed her arms. “I think we should just become a democracy.”
Her uncle laughed and turned his back on her. “Those never work. You give people power and they vote in idiots.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t distract me from what I called you in here for.”
She grunted and dropped in a chair. “I hate this. I hate everything about my life.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You don’t know how I feel.”
Being the ruler of a country was hard. But being a father was exhausting, Stoick was often at a loss at how to handle Astrid. As she got older, she just seemed to grow farther and farther away.
“You’re right my dear. Maybe I don’t. But I went through some difficulties when I married your aunt. A loveless marriage that ended before it even got started. God bless her soul. That’s not what I wanted for you. Which is why I mentioned it so many times before. I want you to find love. You deserve it.”
The blonde relaxed her rigid stance. “I appreciate the sentiment, Uncle…but no one would ever love me.”
“What about Dagur?”
She snatched her axe up from the ground and pointed the blade at the monarch. “Say his name again, and you’ll wake up bald!” She shrieked.
“I know, bad break up. Forget I said anything.”
Astrid twirled her weapon and rested it against the chair side.
“As for the dress…”
Astrid groaned as she slumped in her chair, her chin resting on her chest.
Stoick stepped over to the chestnut cabinet in the corner of the room. To any other person, it would look out of place and full of junk. But to the royals, the wood panels held magic. He pulled out a leather garment bag, and draped it over the desk. Astrid sat up in interest.
“I was waiting to give you this until you got older and could fit in it.”
The princess unzipped it herself. The dress inside was black with gold trim outlining the off the shoulder neckline. More gold flowers were embroidered into the bodice of the dress. Finally, the skirt melted from black to scarlet. The colors of Berk’s flag.
Astrid stared at the dress.
“It was your mother’s. I gave it to her as a gift when our kingdoms first united.”
“Yes. I’ll wear it.” And she re-zipped the bag.
If there was something he could depend on from his niece, it was her fierce loyalty to her family.
The few hours remaining before the party were quiet. Astrid had retreated to her room, and was no doubt sitting in quiet agony while Ruff did her hair.
She stood rigidly, faking her smiles to all that graced her presence. Her arms were folded gently in front of her, occasionally squeezing tightly, as the men poured into the room. They all glanced at her with knowing looks, all thinking the same thing:
“She’s going to pick me.”
The crown jewels sat on her milky collarbone, as there was no way to avoid that tradition. Along with the tiara and red sash, everything screamed untouchable royal. Despite the quaint smile and flirtatious eyes.
She really did make herself sick sometimes.
“My dear, why aren’t you mingling with the young gentlemen?” Stoick touched her shoulder, noticing not a word had come out of her bright red lips.
“Uncle…” Astrid spoke quietly, trying not to be heard, “because I don’t want to talk to the young gentlemen…if you could call them that…”
“Now Astrid, don’t be rude. I’m sure there’s a nice, handsome, quiet guy that you could take out on special occasions. Go on, be cordial.”
Rich, beautiful, eligible men as far as the eye could see. All she had to do was point, and the man that would inevitably serve her for the rest of her life would be chosen. And yet, as she danced around the room, he was not there. The man of her dreams, the man that didn’t fake smile around her, the man that could see through her act, the man that could love her for who she was; he didn’t exist. Astrid was no fool. She knew of her cruelty, she knew what was being said about her.
And yet, how could she change if there was no one to love her?
“Well, hello my darling,” A smooth voice spoke. Astrid’s foul mood plummeted into the floor. The man speaking was a tall man, beefy in build. His broad chin was dotted with the faint hairs of an attempted beard. His hair, copper, was parted in the middle, and curled around his ears. His deep forest green eyes, the same eyes she used to gaze into for hours, had not changed, but great amusement reflected back.
She didn’t even try to hide her distaste. She growled, “Dagur B. Zerker. For what God forbidden reason are you here? To steal my food?”
He laughed. “No, not quite, you see. Your uncle invited me. He hoped that we would get back together.”
The princess blinked once and then shrieked across the ballroom. “UNCLE!!!”
Most attendees jumped at the shout and scrambled to move out of the war zone.
The ruler had just gotten away from her, when she stomped back up to him and stuck her finger in his face. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”
Stoick rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I was hoping you would reconsider courting him again.”
She shook her head. “I’m surprised at you uncle. I loved him, but he got Mala, one of my ladies in waiting, pregnant, and you think that’s a reason for another chance?”
Dagur snorted behind her. “She had a miscarriage, though.”
Astrid riled up in anger, before turning around and decking him in the mouth. “You ass!”
Startled gasps went up in the crowd as the gentry began whispering and staring.
Stoick grabbed his niece. “Enough! Behave yourself, woman!”
“He started it! I’ll kill him! That son of a bitch!”
Dagur, after he had been punched, made the wise decision to run out the room.
“Now,” Stoick stated, “I need to do damage control. Can you handle socializing for a little while without starting another fight?”
Astrid looked away in shame, but nodded solemnly.
“Good, I’ll be back in a bit.”
The crowd parted like the red sea, and Astrid was left alone. And for once in her spoiled life, she felt like she had nothing. She always had the best, the newest, the most expensive. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more and more. But in this moment, she realized it would never be enough. There was no happiness in material goods or false words.
Then, from across the room, she spotted Gobber, the Toymaker. One of the best in the world. Every year, he took a request from Astrid for her ideal custom present. No other like it was to be made.
This was Astrid’s favorite part of her birthday every year. Not just because the present was quality and made exactly they way she wanted, but because Gobber took pride in his work, and he made sure Astrid knew it. One year, the girl asked for a racing car, one that she could drive inside the palace. Gobber came multiple times in the process of building to have Astrid sit in a chair and pretend she was the one driving. Gobber was the father she never had. She never confessed to anyone, but she was always excited to see the man.
The toymaker came to her and respectfully bowed. “Your highness, happiest of birthdays to you. Long live the Princess.”
“Gobber,” She smiled pleasantly.
“I won’t beat around the bush, my dear, what do you wish me to make? I know you have it all thought out. Just like every year.” He smiled, his lead tooth glimmering in the light.
Truth be told, Astrid had forgotten to think about her present. She’d been so preoccupied with worrying about a groom…she chuckled to herself, and without thinking, blurted her personal joke out loud.
“Make me a husband.”
The toymaker laughed, but then grew silent when he saw the Princess was not joking.
“A-Are you sure?”
“Yes, Gobber, I am.”
“…Anything particular you want me to consider? Looks?”
“Just make him perfect.”
She was the Princess, and she always got what she wanted.  This was no exception. Gobber took a shaky breath, “I’ll do my best, my lady…but--…”
“Your best is all I ask,” She affirmed. “I wouldn’t want anything else.”
The toymaker shrugged. “Okay. I guess I have no choice.”
“Take your time on this, I am not in a hurry to get married, but lawfully I must wed by the end of the year.”
“Three days, my lady. As tradition, you will have your gift in three days.”
“Lovely. I will see you in three days then.”
“Yes, Princess Astrid.” The toymaker bowed low and exited the ballroom. The rest of the room could only look in shock and horror at what had just happened.
“I do believe this solves everything.” The Princess smirked.
Out of nowhere, the two twin servants burst into delighted laughter. They approached from both sides. “That was priceless!”
“What a joke!”
“Did you see how everyone reacted?”
“Excellent!”
Astrid glanced between the two. “I’m serious, you know.” She raised an eyebrow.
The laughter waned. “Wait, really? You’re going to marry…a toy?”
“Most likely. But I haven’t any stretch of the imagination what he’s planning on doing. If it turns out much different then I expect, then I will make the toy another servant…or maybe a moving target, if I’m so inclined.”
The siblings shared a worried look. It was a well-known fact that the Princess morbidly stunk at human interaction, but to go as far as to marry a machine? That was an act of desperation. “If you say so.” Ruff shrugged.  
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georgeinmalawi · 8 years
Text
Adapting to Life
30 January 2017
I’m again on the bus to Lilongwe. I paid for the AXA Executive Coach, which is non-stop and has snacks and a bathroom. It is always totally full, crammed with people into tiny, distinctively not executive seats. I missed it, thinking it left at 7:30AM. It left at 7 so I’m on the local, which gets in an hour later but is only half full. I have the entire rear seat to myself; if I were tired, I could stretch out and snooze. I’m not, so I can spread out my stuff and write, knowing I am probably in the safest seat in the unlikely possibility of a crash. (That sounds a bit like the Carlsberg beer slogan, “Probably the best beer in the world.”  Not totally convincing.)  Unless the engine explodes underneath me, in which case I shall take the little red hammer from its hanger and exit a window promptly.  The very back of the bus exaggerates the bumps in the road, however, and I often type gibberish or grab my laptop before it sails off onto the floor
Yesterday we rented a car and drove to Mulanje. Linda’s very long-time friends, Pat and Stacy, are here from Santa Fe for 3 weeks. Pat’s a gastroenterologist and will teach at Queens; Stacy’s a retired attorney who will help with fundraising at Samaritans, the orphanage where I consult. We drove to the massif and partway around it on a dirt road, heading toward a forest lodge for lunch. On the way we passed through a small village and were approached by all manner of young men trying to sell us hiking sticks carved from Mulanje cedar, wanting to guard our car, and asking us to hire one of them as a guide to hike to the well-known nearby waterfall. I heard, “George” and looked up to see Lucius, who was a guard at a home on our street last Fall, fired for being drunk at work. (If I were a guard, making next to nothing to do next to nothing, I’m sre I’d drink, too.)  Needless to say, we bought the hiking sticks and hired both Lucius as guide and his friend, Alex, as guard. The hike to the waterfall was gradual, took about an hour, and the destination was very lovely, with a deep pool for swimming. We waded, not having bathing suits. On the path I spoke with Lucius about his life. He grew up in this tiny village at the foot of Mulanje. When he was in 10th grade, three years ago, both parents were travelling to Blantyre in a minibus that collided head-on with a truck. 15 dead, including his mother and father. He had to drop out of school to support the family. His two sisters are in school and he plans to return when they finish. There is a rueful sadness in his face as he tells me his story. It is like so many here, totally unfair and tragic. Only an extreme and heroic effort on his part, tempered with plenty of luck, will allow him to move beyond scratching for his subsistence for the remainder of his days, and he’s not yet 20yo.
I saw a 10 yo girl, Tokozina, as my last child patient for the day on Thursday. It was our second visit and promised to be lively. She’s had cerebral malaria and is the most hyperactive child I’ve ever seen. She is only moderately learning disabled, I think.  On the first visit she bounced all over the room, running like a flash, grabbing and tossing things, singing loudly while her mother ineffectually tried to contain her by reaching out as she flew by, etc. This mother is built like a tank and could give Mike Tyson a run for his money. On Thursday I told her they could only come into the room if she held her daughter on her lap. Well, that lasted about 15 seconds as the girl squirmed away and bounced all over doing her mischief. Seeing how ineffectual the mother was, I decided to model a safe, painless restraint. Needless to say, I ended up lying on the floor restraining her while she spit in my face and then urinated on me. I held fast and she calmed. Then I gave her to her mother who did the same and, after some tears, the girl accepted the inevitable and fell asleep in her mother’s arms. After wiping off the spit with my handkerchief and letting the pee dry on my soaking pants, I congratulated the mother on her success and impressed upon her the importance of training her daughter by performing a similar restraint whenever she was beyond the control of words. We’ll meet again in 2 weeks and assess the results. It felt like a very successful intervention. I, of course, will need to explore with the mother why she has held herself back so much. 
A 12 yo boy was brought in by his mother. He’d undergone a “personality change” since being attacked by a neighbor in their village. Andrew ate a peach from the man’s tree so he threw Andrew to the ground and stomped on him, fracturing his left tibia. Andrew, always a gentle boy, has become aggressive, beating up his friends. He was expelled from school for fighting, despite being very smart and an excellent student. Another boy, like Japheti, with a persistent and loving mother who is determined to help repair the damage to her son. He was seen in Peds Emergency and, since he had a personality change in this land of cerebral malaria, HIV encephalopathy, and various forms of meningitis, instead of taking a careful history he has had performed all variety of laboratory investigations, including a lumbar puncture. Again, some training is needed there, which we’ll do soon. His response to the beating includes “identification with the aggressor”, his adaptation to feeling helpless in the face of a threat. It is the particular form his PTSD has taken.  He and I had a good talk, he was very engaged, and he agreed to return to school and attempt to not fight when he was upset. We’ll see. He is very bright, speaks English well, and is an incredible artist. 
I’m going to Lilongwe in order to use the notary services at the American Embassy to finalize papers for the sale of 2840 Webster Street in Berkeley, our home for 25+ years. That should be the last formal exchange between my ex and myself, which will be a relief to us both, I suspect. I’ve felt I was in the grip of a python during the divorce---each time I exhaled (made a settlement offer leaning in her favor), the coils tightened. Rather than becoming more flexible and fair, she’d demand more. I’m certain she has her own version of the process.  So, as sad as it is to me to have not been able to grow in our love for each other as time passed, there is a time to hold ‘em and a time to fold ‘em. I only can hope that my children, each of whom I love dearly, can accept their disappointment at the end of the family as they knew it and wanted it to be and can view each of us as individuals with flaws and foibles but basically having given our best for them. I miss them both very much. 
These are the hungry months in Malawi, when the maize is growing tall but not ready for harvest and last year’s supply of corn meal is exhausted. Many of the 85% of the population that are small-hold farmers and their families are lucky to have a single, modest meal a day. It kills me to see the greed and waste in America and to hear the “America Firsters”. It is a sad fact that we, of all the animal species, appear to have an insatiable desire to buy and possess. It is powerfully fed by the advertising/marketing industry and the mythology of our lives -----that it is better, somehow, to have more and bigger and newer and more extravagant stuff. Rather than to have enough for reasonable comfort and to take pleasure in the greater good that everyone has the basics. It is so easy to see someone on Welfare as a “loafer” and “getting a free ride”----I think they are sad, have low self-esteem, and have lacked the good fortune, perhaps the gumption, and the skills to do work that will bring them satisfaction.  Let’s re-establish the WPA and employ the unemployed while they learn skills and repair our infrastructure. But then, I have never wanted to not work. 
I’ve had thoughts of spending the summers on the island in Maine and the rest of the year travelling, writing, and schmoozing with friends. I understand that most people haven’t had the good fortune to have trained for, sought, found, and performed work that they truly love and which remunerates them reasonably. This is often for lack of opportunity but may have multiple and converging reasons, including their drive, intelligence, health, capacity to persist, lack of skill, market forces, and so forth. So people cannot wait “to retire”, understandably. For me, I find learning and being inspired by people’s struggles irresistible, so it doesn’t feel like the time to fold up my tent. 
I find Mr. Trump’s lies and hatred---just look at the expression on his current wife’s face after he reads her out in the 8 second video on YouTube---frightening, since he sits now where he does. We’re not just in for a fire sale of America to the superrich. That has been going on for the past several decades. We are now rapidly heading toward a fascist state, seeking total control of media with an essentially slave underclass that will include most of us. It seems there may be a violent revolution, given how polarizing, aggressive, and dissimulating Mr.T. is. One can hope for a coronary event or a cerebrovascular event or perhaps a metastatic event (in response to his near-constant exposure to Agent Orange!). I’m not savvy enough about economics to fully understand how we’ve arrived here. Our industrial output is up but well-paying, secure jobs are down, partly due to outsourcing but hugely due to automation. Paradoxically, I suspect that many of the same people who have been left behind in our economy shop at Walmart, buying those inexpensive outsourced products made by people in China and Bangladesh who have taken their jobs, keeping those sweatshops going.  The latter have certainly been eased into slavery, out of personal desperation. Just read about their wages, their working and living conditions, their polluted air and water, and the fragmentation of their families and their society, if you doubt me. 
This post has gone on too long. I am passing through emerald hills, dotted with thatched mud-brick huts, all covered by the fluffiest, most towering cumulus clouds imaginable. Even all the plastic trash has vanished from the roadside, hidden by the tall grass. It is stunning. 
Early in the morning one day last week as I biked past the local open market on my way to Queens, I saw  the stall keepers arriving with their vegetables or used clothing as they do each day, often 7 days/week. I realized, at a new level, this is their life.   They may instead sit at a card table and sell lollipops or AirTel phone top-ups, but they have no hope of a better living or life than they have right now. No kids in college, no promotion in the works, no end-of-year bonus, no cashing in on the sale of a start-up, no job or food security, no minimum hourly wage, let alone no luxury items, no increased reimbursement from a health insurance company, and so forth. And this is largely because of the cards they were dealt. Most are smart but have little schooling. Yet they are cheerful, laugh, and are pleased when I say a phrase or two in Chichewa to them as I buy some bananas or a pineapple. Humans are amazingly adaptable. 
I hope our country doesn’t adapt to what our president offers to us, or tries for force upon us.
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