#grayson fic

꒰ Sevika — Spank me, slap me, choke me, bite me. Uh, wait, I can take it

sevika’s your best friend, has been for years. the one you drink with, laugh with, the one you call when your world feels like it’s falling apart. she’s steady, constant, someone you can always count on — except for the fact she has no clue what she does to you.

everyone else knows. everyone else has seen the way your eyes stick to her, the way your voice softens around her, the way you’d take a bullet if she asked. everyone knows your secret except her. and that’s the problem. because now she’s looking at you with that stormy expression, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, like she’s finally caught on.

“you’ve been hiding something from me,” she mutters, dragging you back against the wall. her prosthetic clamps your wrist above your head, her other hand tilting your chin up. “you think i don’t notice? think you can just keep secrets from me?”

she doesn’t give you the chance to answer. her mouth is on yours, rough and punishing, teeth knocking against yours like she’s angry about it — angry you’ve been keeping her in the dark, angry she doesn’t already know. her tongue forces past your lips, and you gasp into her, the sound swallowed whole.

“don’t play dumb,” she growls, breaking the kiss just to bite down at your throat, sucking bruises deep into your skin. “you’ve got something to say? say it. or i’ll make you say it.”

her thigh slots between yours, pressing hard. when you grind down on her desperately and whimper, she chuckles low and dark.

“that’s what i thought.”

her hands are everywhere. tugging your shirt over your head, dragging her nails down your stomach, squeezing your tits until you whimper. the roughness is deliberate —she wants to punish you for holding back, but fuck it makes you burn.

her palm cracks against your ass, the sting sharp, making you moan. “you like that? course you do. filthy little thing.”

another slap. then another. she bends you over the arm of the couch, hand wrapping in your hair to tug your head back while her other hand grips your hip. the first roll of her hips makes your breath stutter, she’s already grinding her strap against your soaked panties, slow and taunting.

“look at you. can’t even keep your secret when i’ve got you like this,” she says, nipping at your ear. “gonna fuck it out of you. every. last. word.”

her pace is brutal once she pushes in, thick strap stretching you open inch by inch. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every choke of breath sounding like a confession. she slaps your ass again just to hear you cry out.

“say it,” she snarls, one hand tightening around your throat as she pounds into you. “whatever you’re hiding. say it.”

you’re gasping, sobbing, clinging to her arm while she ruins you, her cock driving you into the couch cushions. she bites your shoulder, leaves marks down your back, and every time you start to mumble she fucks you harder until it’s nothing but broken sounds spilling out of you.

the aftercare? soft, almost jarring compared to the feral way she fucked you. she’s wiping sweat off your forehead, kissing your temple, holding you against her chest.

“still not gonna tell me?” she murmurs, almost teasing now.

and it’s in that hazy, warm safety you finally whisper it. the secret. the thing she was beating out of you the whole time.

꒰ Ambessa — I just can't help but be sexual, tell me your schedule

ambessa is your best friend. which, apparently, is hilarious to everyone else you know.

“why would you be friends with a grandma?” they’d laugh, nudging your ribs. “she’s a ceo, she doesn’t have time for you.” but they don’t get it. they don’t see her the way you do. how magnetic she is, even when she’s quiet. how she walks into a room and makes the air bend toward her. how the weight of her gaze makes your stomach clench.

you met her in a library of all places — you were buried in a stack of books and doing homework, she was searching for some obscure military history text, and somehow you started talking. somehow, you never stopped.

what nobody was supposed to know was how badly you wanted her. how you’d stare too long at her hands when she turned a page, how you’d dream about what those hands could do to you. you told one person — your neighbour-friend — in a moment of weakness. and, of course, that one person told everyone.

which is how ambessa found out.

she calls you to her place one evening. her penthouse is immaculate: floor to ceiling windows, polished marble, the faint smell of wine and expensive perfume. she’s sitting there waiting, a glass of red in her hand, eyes sharp.

“i hear you’ve been telling secrets,” she says, her voice smooth as silk but carrying the weight of command. “care to explain?”

your mouth goes dry. you stammer something, some pathetic excuse, but she only chuckles — low and knowing.

“don’t bother lying. i know what they said.” she sets her glass down, rises to her full height, and steps into your space. towering over you, her presence alone enough to make your knees weak. “you’ve been burning for me. haven’t you?”

you can’t answer. not with words. your silence is all the answer she needs. her hand lifts, fingers curling beneath your chin to tilt your face up.

“say it,” she commands softly. “i want to hear you admit it.”

you choke on your words, whispering that yes, you want her. you’ve always wanted her. her smile is devastating.

when she kisses you, it’s unhurried. devastatingly slow, as if she’s savoring the taste of your desperation. her mouth moves against yours like she has all the time in the world, her tongue sliding in lazy strokes until you’re the one whimpering, trying to chase more.

“impatient little thing,” she hums against your lips. "you are very tempting you know."

her hands are large, steady, spanning your waist as though she owns it. when she strips you, it’s with elegance, peeling each piece of clothing away like unwrapping a gift. you’re trembling by the time she lays you back on her silk sheets, the city skyline glittering behind her like she planned the whole backdrop.

she takes her time exploring you. dragging her mouth down your throat, your chest, your stomach. teeth scraping, tongue soothing. she murmurs about how long she’s imagined this — the way you’d sound, the way you’d taste.

when she finally slides between your thighs, it’s ruinous. her mouth is slow at first, deliberate, licking broad strokes that make you arch off the bed. her hands pin you down easily when you start to buck.

“stay still,” she warns, her voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “let me have you.”

she eats you like she’s starving, like she’s waited too long and now she refuses to stop. every flick of her tongue, every swirl around your clit, has you gasping her name. she doesn’t just make you come once — she drags orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re sobbing, thighs trembling.

when she finally pulls away, her mouth glistening, she smirks down at you.

“you’ll have to clear your schedule,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand before kissing you again. “because i’m not finished with you. not for a very, very long time.”

and then she flips you over, presses you into the mattress, and takes you again.

afterwards, she holds you against her chest, stroking your hair while the city glows outside.

“no more secrets,” she murmurs. “understood?”

you nod, half asleep already, and she smiles against your hair.

꒰ Grayson — Your eyes told me, "Girl come ride me" Fuck that feeling both us fighting

grayson’s your best friend. the two of you bonded over shooting ranges, afternoons with earmuffs and safety goggles, laughing between the sharp cracks of gunfire. she’s the one who corrects your stance with a steady hand on your hip, the one who leans over your shoulder to guide your aim.

it’s easy. natural. the kind of friendship where silence never feels awkward, where she can read you with just a glance. but what she doesn’t know — what no one knows — is that every time she touches you to adjust your grip, every time she leans close to murmur advice, your heart races like a live round in your chest.

and tonight, after another late session at the range, the weight of that secret is unbearable.

you’re packing up, sliding bullets back into their case, when you catch her watching you. her jacket’s slung over one shoulder, hair a little messy from pulling off her ear protection, eyes locked on you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“you’ve been distracted lately,” she says, voice soft but firm. “missing shots you’d never miss.”

you laugh it off, try to dodge, but she doesn’t let up. she steps closer, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her perfume under the gunpowder.

“i know that look,” she murmurs. “you think i haven’t noticed?”

before you can even ask what she means, her hand cups your jaw and she kisses you. not tentative — but sure, decisive, like she’s been holding herself back for too long.

it’s desperate after that. her mouth on yours, pulling you flush against her, your back hitting the lockers with a dull thud. she tastes like coffee and smoke, familiar but dizzying in a way that makes your knees weak.

her hands are all over you, calloused palms sliding beneath your shirt, thumbs brushing your ribs. when she finally pulls your top over your head, she pauses, eyes dark, chest heaving.

“fuck,” she mutters. “do you even know what you do to me?”

her mouth is back on you before you can answer, kissing down your throat, biting marks into your skin. she’s not rough, she’s hungry but controlled. every touch feels deliberate, every thrust of her tongue against yours calculated to unravel you.

when she gets you out of your jeans and onto the bench, she kneels between your thighs without hesitation. her lips close around your clit and your entire body jerks, a moan spilling before you can stop it.

“that’s it,” she breathes against you, tongue flicking, fingers slipping inside and curling just right. “let me hear it.”

she eats you out like she’s memorising every sound, every twitch, adjusting pressure until you’re clutching at her hair, thighs trembling around her head. when you come, it’s sharp and overwhelming, pulled out of you by her steady insistence.

but she doesn’t stop. not until you’re whining, overstimulated, and she finally relents — only to strip down herself, climb onto the bench, and guide you into her lap.

“ride me,” she whispers, eyes locked with yours. “i want to feel you lose it on me.”

her strap is thick, stretching you open, and the angle has you seeing stars. her hands hold your hips, guiding your movements, but she lets you take control, lets you grind and bounce until you’re panting her name against her shoulder.

the sound of skin slapping echoes in the empty range, your moans muffled against her neck. her mouth finds your ear, murmuring praise between clenched teeth:

“so fucking perfect on my cock. look at you. taking me so well.”

you come again like that, shaking apart in her lap, and she kisses you through it, swallowing every broken sound.

꒰ Vi — Eat it 'til I need to change my thong. We could do it to your favourite song

vi’s your best friend. she’s the one who makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, the one who’d throw punches for you, the one you can trust with anything… except the one thing you’ve never said out loud. the secret you’ve kept tucked under your tongue for years.

and now her head is between your thighs, and you’re not sure how long you can keep it hidden.

she’s grinning up at you, hair messy, eyes sparkling mischief even as her tongue drags a long, lazy stripe up your cunt.

“god, you’re soaked,” she snickers, lips brushing your clit. “what, you been waiting for this? all this time?”

your fingers are in her hair, tugging, trying to pull her closer, but she slaps your thigh lightly.

“nah, let me take my time. gonna ruin these cute little panties of yours.”

she pulls them aside with her teeth, bites the waistband just to make you squirm. then her mouth is on you, sloppy and greedy, tongue flicking, sucking, groaning like she can’t get enough. the sounds are obscene — wet, messy, filling the room with your gasps and her muffled hums.

when she slips two fingers inside, you choke on her name.

“yeah, that’s it,” she drawls, curling them just right. “fuckin’ tight. squeezing me like you’re made for it.”

she works you open, thumb circling your clit, tongue flicking in time, until your legs are shaking.

“don’t hold back,” she teases, pulling back just enough to talk against your skin. “i wanna hear you. wanna hear you lose it for me.”

and you do. you come hard, thighs clamping around her head, her laugh muffled against you.

but vi’s not done. not even close. she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning like a devil, and pulls out her strap from her bag like she’s been waiting for this moment.

“surprise,” she smirks, strapping it on quick and snapping the waistband against her hips. “you thought i didn’t bring backup?”

she flips you onto your stomach, spanks your ass once just to hear you yelp, then pushes in — deep, hard, stretching you with no warning.

“fuck, look at that,” she groans, hands gripping your waist as she pounds into you. “taking me so well, babe. bet you’ve thought about this, huh? all those nights we were ‘just hanging out.’”

her pace is ruthless, hips slamming into yours, strap hitting that perfect spot until you’re screaming into the pillow. she doesn’t let up, fucking you through it, spitting in your mouth when she flips you over and presses down into you.

your thong is bunched around your thigh, and she tugs it higher, smirking.

“cute. might make you wear it every time we fuck. markin’ it up with my spit, my cum. my little secret, yeah?”

꒰ Caitlyn — Clink with the drink, gimme a sip.Tell me what's your kink, gimme the dick

caitlyn is your best friend. always has been. she’s the kind of friend who keeps you grounded, who knows when to pull you out of trouble, who makes even the dullest nights feel like a private secret.

but what she doesn’t know, what you’ve never had the nerve to admit, is that half the time you spend at her side, you’re thinking about kissing her instead of laughing with her.

tonight, you’re in her mansion, the two of you tipsy off expensive wine. the lights are dim, the fire’s low, and everything feels a little softer, a little more dangerous.

she hands you another glass, her fingers brushing yours deliberately slow.

“careful,” she says, voice low and warm. “it’s stronger than it tastes.”

you laugh, take a sip, but her eyes never leave your mouth. she tilts her glass toward you, a gentle clink echoing in the quiet room, and for a moment it feels less like a toast and more like a challenge.

the silence stretches, heavy, charged. she leans in just a little closer, her perfume curling in your nose, her lips parting as if she’s about to say something. instead, she kisses you.

it starts soft, testing, almost hesitant ,but the moment you respond, she deepens it. her hand slides along your jaw, thumb pressing beneath your chin as she tilts your head just so. her tongue strokes yours, slow, unhurried, wine-sweet and intoxicating. she pulls back just enough to study your face, eyes dark with intent.

“you’ve been hiding something from me,” she murmurs. not a question. not an accusation. a statement of fact.

her hand drifts lower, skimming down your neck, your chest, until her fingers are teasing the hem of your shirt.

“shall we play a little game?” she says, and before you can answer, she’s tugging your top over your head, laying you back against the velvet couch like she’s arranging something precious.

she takes her time undressing you, savoring every reaction, every little intake of breath. her lips follow her hands, leaving kisses and nips down your throat, across your chest, along your stomach.

“you’re trembling,” she whispers against your skin. “what is it you’re not telling me?”

her fingers find their way beneath your underwear, stroking you slow, teasing, just enough to make your hips rise.

when she slides two fingers inside, you gasp, clinging to her wrist. she smirks, curling them just right, her thumb brushing over your clit in steady circles.

“there,” she breathes. “feels good, doesn’t it? i want every sound. don’t hold back.”

you moan, head tilting back, and she kisses you again, swallowing your cries as she works you closer, closer, until you’re coming apart under her hand.

but she’s not finished.

she strips herself down, elegant even in her haste, and slips on a strap — sleek leather, polished, clearly something she’s used before. she eases you onto your back, positioning herself between your thighs, her eyes never leaving yours as she pushes in.

the stretch makes you gasp, nails digging into her shoulders.

“that’s it,” she whispers, voice velvet and heat. “take me. show me everything you’ve been holding back.”

her pace is controlled at first, steady, measured thrusts that have you moaning into the crook of her neck. but as you start to beg, to plead, her composure cracks — she fucks you harder, deeper, every movement calculated to wring you out.

her hand slips between your thighs, rubbing tight circles against your clit as the strap drives into you, and you unravel again, crying out her name, nails scratching down her back.

after, she gathers you into her arms, pulling a blanket over your trembling body. she presses a kiss to your temple, her breath warm against your skin.

“you don’t need to tell me,” she says softly. “i already know.”

and somehow, that’s worse — because she does know. she’s always known.

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I roll my neck. God, two nights in a row. I must be sleeping terribly wrong, I think to myself.

Stretching my arms over my head, I look across the bed to find the left side empty. I grab my phone from the table beside the bed.

5:30 AM.

I groan as I widen my eyes to keep them open. Time to play find the Hawthorne again.

I make my way down the halls, my slippers keeping my steps quiet. I’m almost downstairs when I pass Oren.

“Why are you up so early?” I mumble, my voice not ready to be used yet.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His voice has clearly already been in use.

I yawn. “Finding the second eldest, you?”

He nods. “Finding the second youngest.”

Crossing my arms, I snort. “Oh good luck with that one.”

Oren gives me an empty look. “I appreciate the confidence.”

I shrug and continue my descent down the stairs. “You’ve got the worst end of the deal here, Oren.” I say over my shoulder.

He lets out a scoff and mumbles a “Yeah” as we go our separate ways.

I end up in front of the sliding glass doors that go outside. Squinting, I can see a figure in the pool, the sun rising behind them. My heart drops. I slide the door open and make my way over to the pool.

Grayson is swimming from deep to shallow end and back again. I cross my arms as I watch him move like a fish in the water. Eventually, he finally stops and I can see his shoulders move up and down as he breathes hard.

“Grayson.” My voice does little to spook him as he turns slowly.

“It’s considered impolite to stare.” His voice is weaker than usual, the swimming taking an obvious toll on his breathing.

“It’s considered impolite to leave someone in bed alone too, if we want to go down that road.”

His eyes find mine and I falter. The look of an old, raw pain swims in his gaze.

“Gray.” I breathe.

He turns away from me. I kick off my slippers and move to sit at the poolside. My sleep shorts allow me to put my legs in the heated water.

“Come here.”

He keeps his back to me.

“Please?”

His shoulders sink as he sighs, turning to swim towards me. He comes above water again and slicks his wet hair back. I open my legs a bit, giving him room to stand between them. My hands find his cheeks.

“What’s going on in this head of yours?” I stroke my thumbs along his cheekbones.

He shuts his eyes and I can feel him lean into my touch slightly. “Too much.” He murmurs.

Frowning, I tilt his head up towards me. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He opens his eyes and searches my face, as if he doesn’t really believe that I care.

My eyes soften. “Grayson, you can talk about whatever you’d like with me. I’m always here to listen.”

An emotion that I can’t place washes over him as he clears his throat. “There’s a lot going on and I’m handling it.”

My brow furrows. “Not very well, it seems.”

He rears back as if I’ve wounded him. “Excuse me?” He challenges.

“You may be handling the physical problems but you’re ignoring the mental problems.” I lean my head to the right, examining him.

Dark circles lay under his tired eyes. He looks away from me but I pull his head back so that he’s forced to look me in the eyes.

“You can’t keep everything to yourself, Grayson. It’s not healthy and no one, not even you, can hold all that in.”

He frowns. “I’ve done this for years and I turned out just fine.”

My face falls and I give him a blank stare. “Really? We’re doing this, now?” He blinks back at me so I nod, deciding to play.

“Jameson must’ve been handling things really well, getting drunk every night for months. Oh and Nash, breaking off his engagement to Alisa like that? He definitely handled everything just right.” Sarcasm bleeds through my words.

“I’m not my brothers,” Grayson counters.

“Oh you are absolutely right, I’m so sorry. You staying up late at the foundation most nights and going out to swim at the crack of dawn every morning when we first met was you handling things perfectly.” I throw my arms in the air.

Grayson rolls his eyes. “That’s enough.”

“How can I forget when you went deep into the maze to use your sword every chance you had? Practicing until you were dripping sweat. Again. And again. And again. Over and over.” I stare deep into his eyes.

“I said, enough.” His tone is harsher, clearly affected by my words.

I shrug. “I’m just listing where you’re handling things so well, Grayson. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

Grayson shuts his eyes and drops his forehead against my stomach. “I know. I can’t just stop. I have to keep going.”

I wrap my arms around his head, my right hand rubbing his upper back. “You can stop, Gray. You have to take breaks, it’ll kill you if you keep going like this.”

He sighs against my shirt, turning his head so he can speak clearly. “I know.”

The corners of my mouth turn down and I drag my fingernails up and down his back lightly.

He shakes his head against me.

“Why do you have pants on?” He whined, hand moving over the running shorts you’d left on before you climbed into bed. It was true that you usually just slept in panties, but you hadn’t thought much about it, too excited to get into bed and get cozy after your shower. 

“I was cold, didn’t wanna take em off,” you explained, putting your phone on do not disturb and sitting it on the little bedside table that Gray had built for you. You rolled over into his arms, his left hand sliding down over your ass.

“I can warm you up,” he mumbled, using his grip to press your entire body up against his, pulling you over so you were almost laying entirely on top of him. It was true - he was always warm, tanned skin radiating a heat that could cure your cold fingers when you reached out for him in the middle of the night. He’d let you do it every time, even if they felt like ice cubes and made him flinch.

His hand moved again, up over your ass to your back, and then his finger dipped under the band of your shorts, seeking out more skin. He grumbled a bit when the fabric tightened against his hands the further he reached over you.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re too tight,” he pouted. “My hands don’t fit.”

“Maybe your hands are just too big.” 

“Maybe you’ve just got too much cake.” 

You planted a hand on his chest, sitting up and giving him the most incredulous look your tired eyes could muster. He stuck his bottom lip out at you, tired eyes pleading. 

“Take em off.”

“Considering you actually just used the word cake to refer to my ass in a sentence? Access denied,” you teased, ducking back down to curl up against him and closing your eyes. His chest rose with a sigh.

“Can I at least have a kiss?”

You smiled but stayed still just to see what he would do. He waited for a moment, and then you felt him shift underneath you.

“Hey. Hey you. I know you aren’t asleep yet.” He poked at your side and you held it together until he actually started tickling. When you broke you giggled against him, lifting your head up and pressing your lips to his. He hummed against you, lips chasing yours for a moment as you shifted and got closer to him. He squeezed your ass as best he could, pulling back a tiny bit.

“Hits different when you’re in underwear.” He answered your unasked question with a shrug, and even with just the moonlight coming through the blinds you knew he saw your eyes roll. 

“I’ll just be over here-” you tried to roll away, but his hand caught the back of your head before you got far.

“Ah ah, don’t think so. You know I’m kidding.” He kissed you again before you could protest, not that you were going to. It felt too good to be in his arms for you to ever complain, and you melted into him, safe and content. You kissed lazily for a while, little mumbles of “missed you today” and “love you” the only things causing your lips to leave each others. Eventually, with a few last minute stolen kisses and a few more pressed to your forehead, you settled in.

The two of you fell asleep the same way every night, ever since the first time you’d found yourself staying over; him on his back, arm wrapped around your shoulders, lips on your forehead, you cuddled up against his side, leg over his waist. You’d drift as you slept, sometimes waking up to get back into each other’s arms. But no matter how far away you got, you were always touching somehow. Sometimes it was just your hands, sometimes one leg tangled with yours.

But when you woke up that night, it was his arm, thrown over your waist, heavy and warm. 

You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings in the dark, reaching over for your phone. 

3:12 in the morning. 

You huffed out an annoyed breath, unsure of why your body had woken you up. Grayson stirred a bit, sensing you moving in his sleep. You reached over, playing with his hair to keep him soothed. 

Mouth dry, you waited until he started snoring again to coax his arm off of you and get out of bed. Any other night you probably would have just rolled back over, tucked yourself under Grayson’s arm and tried to go straight back to sleep. But you were so thirsty, you knew that you didn’t have a hope of getting back to sleep without at least a glass of water. 

So you headed out of the room as quietly as you could, making sure the door didn’t squeak.

You were glad that the construction was over and you were back in the house - it was easier to navigate in the dark. Still, you let your fingers run along the wall so you made sure that you weren’t going to run into anything as you made your way through the house.

The kitchen was better lit than the hallway most nights, simply because of the security lights outside that lit up the backyard. 

That was the first sign that you should have noticed. 

But you weren’t awake enough to notice, to realize that you shouldn’t have had to reach over and flick the light switch to get to the cabinet.

You should have just stayed in bed.

For a split second, you thought maybe it was Ethan, up late, unable to sleep.

You were wrong.

The man was standing by the bookshelf that Grayson had made when the lights flooded the room. He had a bag with him, a large backpack that matched his black hoodie. He turned to you, eyes wide as he realized you were there.

It all happened very quickly after that.

You must have screamed, but you didn’t hear it. Still, you knew you must of, or he wouldn’t have run towards you instead of out the door. Before you could move he was right in front of you, breath hot and horrendous in your face as he grabbed you and covered your mouth with his hand.

“Where do they keep their watches?”

You’d seen enough crime shows, binged through episodes of criminal minds, seen so many ‘un-subs’ that surely, surely you knew what to do. But there, staring one in the face? Your mind went blank, blind panic taking over as you realized that this was real, this could be it.

Your first instinct was to tell him, tell him exactly where the watches were in Grayson’s closet, the second drawer down on the right. That’s what you’d always been taught. Give them what they want and get the hell out of there. 

But then you thought about Grayson, Grayson in his room, entirely unaware of what was going on. The love of your life, vulnerable in his white sheets, sleeping peacefully like you’d left him just moments ago. There was no way in hell that you were going to put him in danger. You’d rather die.

“I said where do they keep their watches?” He repeated, his hold on your arm tightening as he pulled his hand back just enough for you to talk.

“Fuck you,” you spat, trying to wrestle yourself out of his grip. He was stronger than he looked, and the effort was futile. 

“Hey!” wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, but he could have said anything and the same relief would have washed over you. It was unmistakeable, and close. 

Grayson was awake.

You turned to look at him, beg for him to help you but you were yanked suddenly, spun around. His hold changed, moved from your arm to around your shoulders, across your chest. And then you realized why he’d pulled you over to the other end of the kitchen, what he was reaching for.

The knife block. 

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her right now,” the man threatened, and between the new feeling of cold metal against your neck and the panic in Grayson’s eyes you knew you both had to take him at his word.

“Okay, okay, no one’s coming closer. Just don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her.” He was begging like you’d never heard him before, a raw fear in his voice that broke you at your deepest level. 

You thought about moving, trying to fight him off somehow. Grayson could take him down no problem if you got out of the way, that much was obvious. But the knife complicated things - you knew how sharp they were just based off of Ethan’s stitches. 

Oh god. Ethan. You felt a pang of guilt that you hadn’t thought about him yet, and you prayed his deep sleeping wasn’t too deep tonight.

Somehow, it seemed that Grayson was on the same wavelength. You’d been keeping your eyes on him the whole time, but you missed when they flickered to the hallway behind you. Little did you know, Ethan had woken up to the voices, come out quietly, seen everything. Now all Grayson had to do was stall until his brother could get the security from the end of the driveway to the house. 

“Get your watches. I want your watches, and I know which ones you have. Don’t bring me the cheap shit.” The man spoke up again, voice demanding.

“You can have whatever you want, but I’m not getting anything if you don’t let her go.” Grayson’s feet were set, his voice stern. 

“Get the watches. I’m the one with the knife here, and you won’t be the one paying if you don’t do what I fucking say.” 

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking kill you.” Grayson’s negotiating facade cracked for a moment, eyes burning in anger. He took one step forward, unable to stop himself. 

Your neck was wet. 

For a minute you thought you were crying, but you felt the sting, realized what had happened. The blood trickled down from where the man had pushed the tip of the blade in just enough to break skin.

“Back. Up.” He snarled.

You panicked, starting to writhe, desperate to get away from him. The knife cut in a bit further and you gasped at the pain.

“Baby don’t! Stop, stop don’t,” Grayson panicked, holding his hands up and taking a step back, eyes never leaving yours. “Okay, okay you win, I’ll get the watches, I’ll get them!”

“Grayson don’t.” Don’t leave me please don’t leave me.

“Shut up.” The knife moved again and you fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut - if anything was going to happen, you wanted Grayson to be the last thing you saw.

I love you you mouthed to him, feeling the blade move against your skin as you spoke. 

The sound of the door busting open was enough to make all three of you jump. 

“HANDS! LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!” 

Suddenly the kitchen was very crowded - Ethan was there with the two security guards that worked nights for the boys - James, and Deandre, all of their eyes wide, bodies tense. You felt small surrounded by so many tall men - intimidated instead of relieved. 

“Drop the knife and show me your hands. NOW.” Deandre demanded, gun drawn and pointed.

The man hesitated, cursed under his breath. It felt like an eternity before the knife clattered to the floor, too loud against the wood. It left a scratch there that you’d find three months later. 

His arms released, rising up above his head in surrender. Immediately, another set of hands was on you, strong and firm and warm. Grayson pulled you harder than he ever had, moved you so fast you could barely register what was happening until he had you pressed up against his back. He’d put himself in front of you, standing tall and strong. You took in your first deep breath as you clung to the back of his shirt, your adrenaline pumping, heartbeat in your ears as James pulled the mans hands behind his back into makeshift handcuffs and led him outside. 

As soon as he was out of eye sight Grayson spun, arms wrapping around you.

“Oh god. Oh god, I’m so sorry angel I’m so sorry, I love you so much.” The words barely registered to your ears he said them so fast, hot tears falling against your skin as he pressed himself to you. 

“Ouch.” 

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he’d pressed up against your cut on your throat, causing it to sting. The pain was the only thing you could process, your mind foggy. 

Grayson pulled back, unwilling to let go of you entirely but far enough for you to see the sadness in his eyes. “Ethan, go get something for her neck, just grab whatever we have.”

“The cops are outside, maybe we should wait-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the cops bro, just get me some damn gauze or something. Please.” 

You watched Ethan walk away, or at least, you tried to - he was blurry, his form swaying around in your vision. Your heart was beating too loud, your head felt funny. You reached up to your neck, hand coming away wet and cold with blood.

“I think I’m - I don’t feel so good.”

Next thing you knew, there was something hard against your back, and too many voices.

“Y/N? Y/N can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me.” It was a different voice, not the one you wanted to hear.

“Gr-Grayson.” You croaked it out.

“I’m right here baby, I’m here.” You forced your eyes open, searching for where his voice was coming from - he sounded too sad, and your fingers twitched, anxious to find him, to comfort him. When you blinked enough to actually see, there were three faces above you, contrasted against the lights and the white of the ceiling. Ethan, Grayson and another face, all three with the same look of concern painted across them hovered over you as you realized where you were. The kitchen floor.

“What happened?” 

“You passed out on us,” Ethan answered, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Oh. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It’s your bodies defense mechanism. Too much going on at once,” the third face said. You looked down, saw the patch on his shirt. Paramedic.

“It’s not cause of the blood? She didn’t lose too much?” Grayson spoke up then, and your eyes went back to him, frowning.

“No, the cut on her neck is superficial. Neck wounds just bleed a lot initially but it’s already stopped. We’ll get you bandaged up, get you some water and you should be good as new!” 

Good as new. You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be good again, especially when you saw the look on Grayson’s face. He was as easy to read as your favorite novel - angry, livid actually, unable to process anything other than the rage you knew was building up inside him the longer he sat there. 

“Can I sit up?” 

“Yeah, just stay sitting for a bit and we’ll take it in stages okay? Fellas, can one of you get some water for her?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Ethan patted your knee before he got up from where he was crouching, heading to the fridge. You started to sit up, body still unsteady. The paramedic helped you, moved you slightly to position you against the cabinets.

“The police are gonna need pictures of your neck, for evidence. I need to take them before we bandage you up.” 

He wasn’t asking. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you nodded, turning your head slightly to the side to expose your neck as he fumbled for his camera. 

The only thing that kept you from crying right then and there was Ethan coming back down onto the floor and pressing the cup of water into your hands. 

“Drink it bup, you’ll feel better.” You waited until the paramedic was done to bring the cup to your lips. The water was cold, nice against your dry throat, the whole reason you’d even gotten involved in the nightmare in the first place. You gulped it down, passing the glass back to E.

“More?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” Your voice felt robotic, unattached as you kept your eyes on Grayson as the paramedic wiped your neck off and put a bandage on that felt large and sticky with antiseptic. You didn’t care- you were just waiting for what you knew was about to happen.

All it took was James reappearing in the room for him to explode.

“What the fuck happened! You realize how much we pay you two fucks, and somebody got past you, and inside the fucking house. Explain yourselves. Now.” His voice was booming as he passed you, headed straight for James, hands in fists.

“Gray, gray easy, easy,” Ethan cautioned, rising quickly to cut his brother off, getting chest to chest as he continued to yell over his shoulder.

“You see her? You see her right? You let that happen you useless fucking idiots-”

“Grayson. Stop.” 

Something about the tone of Ethan’s voice pulled him out of it just enough for him to stop seeing red, to speak at a normal volume.

“I wanna know what the fuck happened. How the fuck he got in.”

“So do I. But I’ll handle it, okay? You’ve got other things to focus on right now. More important things. Take care of her, I’ll handle it.” 

I’m right here, you wanted to say, but instead you grabbed onto the counter above you, pulled yourself up to your feet. The paramedic stayed close until you got your bearings, offering you a small smile of encouragement. 

Grayson turned then, looked, really saw you for the first time since you’d passed out. The guilt was so blatant on his face that you knew he would be crying if he wasn’t trying to keep it together for you. 

He turned away from Ethan, walked towards you slowly, not wanting to startle you.

“I-I-” you tried to find words, but your brain was still fuzzy. 

“It’s okay baby. Just tell me what you need. Tell me what to do to make it better.” 

You looked around, past him, watched the cops unpacking the backpack onto the coffee table - the play button, a few vinyls. 

“I need to get out of here. I don’t wanna be here right now.” You were proud of yourself for getting cohesive sentences out, even if they did make Grayson’s face drop. 

“Okay. We’ll go, we’ll go right now. E, can you call Nick and ask if we can stay? He’s closest.” 

Ethan nodded, immediately pulling out his phone.

“Let’s get you a new shirt.” Grayson wrapped his arm around your waist, led you out of the kitchen and back towards his room. His hold was so firm that he practically sat you down on the bed, only leaving you so he could go get you something to change into.

You didn’t realize until he moved that he’d sat you directly in front of the mirror. Bad move.

You didn’t look like yourself. Your eyes were too wide, still frazzled. Shoulder too stiff, muscles all tense. But all that was commonplace when you saw the blood. It was a darker red than you expected, soaked into Grayson’s WZRD shirt that you’d slept in. Some of it had even gotten on your shorts. The cut was bandaged, but you still brought a hand up to it, gently running your fingers over where you could feel it was. 

Grayson interrupted your gaze, moving in front of you and crouching down so you didn’t have to look up, like he might do with a child. You didn’t mind - it was nice to feel bigger, more powerful. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not really. Just feels weird.” 

“Do you want a t-shirt or a hoodie? I grabbed both.”

“Hoodie.” You didn’t care if it was 80 degrees outside - you felt comfortable in them, felt less exposed. Safer. 

He didn’t question it, just reached forward for the hem of your, his, ruined shirt, pulling it as gently as he could over your head.

It got worse. You hadn’t thought about the fact that the paramedic had wiped your neck off. Your chest, your skin that had been hidden underneath the fabric was stained an angry red, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight. You barely recognized yourself.

Grayson followed your eyes, seeing what you saw, immediately moving to block your view of your reflection.

“Hey, shh shh, it’s okay. I’ll get you cleaned up, it’s okay. I’m gonna get a washcloth.” He stood up, went to move away from you and the panic that rose in your throat made you feel like you were choking. As quickly as you could you shot a hand out, caught his arm, held on as he turned back to you.

“Please don’t leave me by myself.” It came out as a whimper, involuntary, weak. But you didn’t care. The thought of being alone was too much to handle, even if he was just behind the bathroom door. 

“I won’t baby, I promise. You wanna come with me?” 

You nodded, keeping your hold on his arm. It felt nice, like an anchor, reminding you that Grayson was there and if Grayson was there you were safe. So you held on while he got the washcloth, wet it in the sink, cleaned you off. When he pulled his cudi hoodie over your head you got your arms through as quickly as you could, reaching back out for him. He held your hand while he moved around the room, packing an overnight bag for the two fo you. It helped you to keep breathing steadily, even when he led you out the bedroom door, past the kitchen counter - he was careful to block your view of the blood on the floor. When you got to the door, Ethan was there, brows furrowed as he watched the cops mull around outside, checking to see how the security system had been breached.

He paused, looking at you, lips moving as he tried to start talking, hesitating, stumbling over his words. 

You let go of Grayson for a moment, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around E.

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest, glad to feel him there and whole and unharmed. 

He squeezed you against him, resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Try to get some rest, don’t worry about anything here okay? Either of you,” he looked up at Grayson, letting you go. “Take the tesla, the porsche is blocked in.” He passed his brother the keys, giving him one of those twin looks that you couldn’t read. Grayson nodded, wrapping an arm around you again.

“I don’t know if he’s still out there. Just - just don’t look, okay?”

You did as he said, burying your face in his chest before he opened the door. He practically carried you to the car, guiding each step you took until you got to the door, climbing in. He ran around the side to get in the driver’s seat, immediately reaching back over for you once he got back in. 

You felt lighter as soon as the car cleared the gates, and you curled up against Grayson as best you could, wrapping both arms around his right one, resting your cheek on his bicep, careful not to press on your neck. The last thing you wanted was for it to start bleeding even more. 

The drive to Nick’s went faster without the usual traffic - you were there in less than ten minutes, walking up to his apartment door. He answered almost immediately. 

“C’mon in guys,” he stepped aside, letting you and Grayson pass. “I grabbed some extra blankets and pillows for the bed. It’s a twin, I haven’t had a chance to get anything bigger yet, and I can get you anything else you guys need, like chargers or-”

“Thank you Nick. It means a lot, truly. We just need to get some sleep is all,” Grayson cut him off gently, practically holding you up against his side with how tight he had you pressed to him. 

“Yeah right, of course. Well if you need anything, you know where I’ll be. Glad you guys are okay.” 

“Thanks man.” 

Grayson led you to the right, into a small room that was definitely meant to be an office and not a bedroom. The twin bed was pressed up against the far corner, the extra pillows and blankets stacked up at the end. Grayson dropped the bag by the wall, moved towards the bed and started to arrange it with his free hand.

It didn’t make sense why it happened then. Why everything came crashing down at that moment, watching him shuffle around pillows to make the bed the way he knew you liked it. 

Alas, you fell to pieces, the weight of everything that had happened suddenly sinking it. Just how close you’d been to being seriously hurt, killed, how much danger the love of your life had been in. 

He was startled by the sobs that started to rip from your lungs, but he caught you anyways, arms winding around your waist as he sat the both of you down on the edge of the bed, you on his lap.

“It’s okay baby, you’re safe. You’re safe it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” He repeated it over and over, rocking you back and forth. The thought of him being hurt had your mind spinning, and you reached down, caught the bottom of the shirt you didn’t remember him putting on, tugging it up in a bid to get to his skin, to get closer to him. He let you do it even if he didn’t understand what you needed, desperate to help you in any way that he could. 

Once he was shirtless you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, anywhere you could reach, letting your brain accept that he was okay, that he was safe. You hadn’t realized how much of the weight had been because you were worried about him, what could have happened, what almost happened. Each kiss settled you even more, your tears ceasing as he held you. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered against his collarbone when you finally found your voice, leaning back so you could kiss his lips. He kissed you back, but you could feel his confusion at your words.

“I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be saying that right now. I’m so sorry. I should have checked the camera before we went to bed, hired more security. I just never thought -”

You cut him off again with a kiss. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It is though. My lifestyle, putting shit about my life online, that’s why he chose our house, why all of that happened.”

“Baby stop. It’s okay. We’re okay now.” 

He was quiet then, hands moving up to your face, thumbs tracing over your cheeks. It relaxed you slightly, calming your body in a way that only his touch could.

“Seeing you... like that.” He couldn’t make himself say it. “I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

“I’m glad it was me and not you.” You didn’t skip a beat, bringing a hand up over his when he cringed at your words.

“Angel please, please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I’d do it again if I had to.” 

He tilted your face up. “Look at me. You aren’t ever going to have to do anything like that. No one is going to hurt you, ever again. I won’t let it happen. Okay? That’s a fucking promise.”

“That sounds nice.” You rested your cheek in his palm, just watching him look at you for a few moments, comfortable silence filling the room.

“You tired?” He asked eventually, noticing your drooping eyelids as the rest of the adrenaline finally made it’s way out of your system. You nodded against him, holding on as he stood the two of you up so he could pull the covers back. 

While you were pretty sure Grayson outgrew a twin size bed when he was 12, you were thankful for it that night. He not so subtlety moved you over so you were by the wall, his body broad enough that you couldn’t even see the door as you curled up in his arms, let him press you against him as close as he could get. He’d put himself between you and the outside world, any danger that could possibly ever come your way - and he did it every night after that too, made himself a shield of sorts even back in your room at the house. 

He never drifted from you in his sleep again.

Aaliyah Serrano was different. She was kept to herself but still put herself out there. She was quiet but not quiet. She was smart, extremely smart. Smart to the point where it could get her in trouble for correcting people. But she was shy when she was alone.

If anyone who knew her was asked to describe her they would all say innocent. She had such an innocent mind and aura that it drove people crazy, but she didn't realize that.

"Come in," he said, his tone casual, and his voice deep but soft, almost as if he could tell she was nervous, "So Aaliyah right? I'm Grayson" He asked as he sat down, she nodded her head, sitting down on the chair he pointed at.

"Mhm," she replied, putting her bag down, next to her feet.

"You said you turned 18 last month?"

"Yeah, but back in June," she shyly replied, her voice soft and gentle as her fingers played with each other and her right leg bounced up and down, trying to release some of her anxiousness, but it was no use.

"Aaliyah, have you ever done something like this before? Do you have any experience?" He asked and she shook her head nervously.

"Not publicly, I've never performed outside of class, or my dorm," she replied, her brain thinking only negative thoughts. Maybe she wasn't going to get the job, who hires a dancer with no performing experience, she thought.

"Are you comfortable with a crowd?"

"Yeah, and I'm a quick learner," she replied nodding her head.

Never in her life, Aaliyah thought she would've found herself in a club. Never in her life did she think she would've submitted an application to become an exotic dancer. But then college, debts, needs, and wants started coming along, and she knew she needed a job.

This was her last resort. Any other job she applied for, either didn't pay enough, didn't agree with her schedule or she didn't have enough experience. But being a dancer her entire life, and taking a quick class that her college had to offer, she fit the stripper profile very nicely.

"You do have dance experience which is good. The last thing I'm going to need from you is to see how you dance. I hope you came prepared, if you do get hired, can you start right now?" He asked, taking a look at his Rolex, and if Aliyah didn't know about watches, she would've still known it was expensive, but since she did, she knew it was worth more than her rent.

"Yeah, I have everything I need," she smiled, lifting up her bag to show him.

"Okay, good, just follow me," he said and led her to a room filled with other girls. Girls who would probably be her coworkers so she wanted to make a good impression to get along with them.

"Is this Aaliyah?" One of the girls asked and Grayson nodded his head, "She's such a baby," she added and Aliyah shook her head with a blush.

"Take care of her guys," Grayson said, making one of the other girl's faces scrunch up in confusion.

"Girl, come here. I'm Landy," the girl who called her a baby said, pulling her into a hug.

"Hi," Aliyah whispered, feeling shy and intimidated.

"This is Alex, Maria, Blake, and London," she said pointing to the girls. Everyone was different, different in skin colors, hair types, and clothing styles.

"Okay, so do you need help getting ready? I can help if you want," Landy said, which made her calm down a bit, knowing that she was liked by at least one of them.

"Please? I've never done this in front of anyone," she replied and Landy nodded her head before taking her to the back of the room and waited for her to get dressed before doing her hair and makeup.

"God, I'm scared," she said, shaking her hands as if her nerves were going to shake off like water droplets.

"You'll be okay. Just get in the mood and pretend no one is there," Landy replied, after finally being done with her hair.

She was wearing a holographic strappy bodysuit, the heels Landy let her borrow, and the leg garters that connected to her bodysuit, her make up was simple, and her hair was in a tight high pony.

"You're so pretty!!!" Landy gushed making her blush as she looked in the mirror, she didn't recognize herself but she didn't mind it either. She likes the way she looked, she looked and felt confident, something she always lacked.

With a couple of deep breaths, and a few short affirmations, she turned around shaking off her nerves, "I think I'm ready,"

As she walked out of the room, the air was cold, but the room felt hot, she looked around the large area, different seating areas holding all types of different people, all dressed differently, some drunk, some sober, some high while others weren't. Some had the show on them while others watched from afar.

"Remember what I told you," Landy reminded her before she went up on the stage, letting out a couple of breaths before walking the way Landy and her teacher had thought her, head up, shoulders relaxed, and a seductive look on her face that made her laugh every time she looked in the mirror, she made eye contact with him as he watched her with close attention, her hand made contact with the cold metal pole, pressing herself against it before slowly dropping down and arching her back, the cold metal pressing her thighs sending shivers up her spine before she got back up, doing a quick spin before moving up the pole, feet living the ground as she elevated herself, doing a mixture of everything she learned, making sure it was matching the music playing in the background.

Her mind was in her living room. Knowing that if she paid attention to all the eyes that were on her, she would get nervous and mess up. She imagined herself in her living room, where she and her roommate had their own pole where they practiced and danced for fun. She kept repeating the words 'you got this' to herself as she moved on and off the long piece of metal, making sure to include some floor work to make her small performance more diverse. And after what seemed like a thousand twists and turns she was done. She thought she did great. But that wasn't up to her.

It was up to Grayson, who couldn't keep his eyes off her. Three other girls were performing with her and everyone was watching her.

Her innocent look captivated everyone's attention and he knew he needed her there. The club needed her, and he wasn't going to let her slip away.

And he gave her the job, and she started that night and made more than anyone had made in that entire week.

"Good job Aali," Landy gushed at the small girl who was wiping all the makeup off of her face, feeling exhausted and wanting to go home.

After a few minutes of knowing each other, Landy had already came up with a nickname for Aaliyah, not that Aaliyah minded, it made her feel more at peace.

"Thank you, Lands, I couldn't have done it without you," she smiled up at the 27 year old who just wanted to go home and sleep for a week, "You did so good! I wanna be on your level," she added wiping off the last bit of mascara that was smudged under her eyes.

"Girl, my level is not that good," Landy chuckled, shaking her head, sitting down on the vanity next to Aliyah to take off her makeup.

"Good job Aaliyah, you did great," a girl who Aliyah remembered to be London said, patting her on the back before saying goodbye and leaving. London was one of the nicest girls, her chocolate brown skin matched perfectly with every color she wore, and her makeup was brighter than everyone's making her look like the star of the show, which she really was. She was the most advanced one and made anything look good.

Blake was...well, from how Landy said it, Blake was Blake. She wanted to be better than everyone and was always rubbing herself up on Grayson. Not to count all the glares she was giving Aliyah throughout the night.

Alex and Maria were okay, they kept to themselves, they were Hispanic which made Aliyah happy. Living in New Jersey, it was rare to find a Hispanic person, which made her happy.

"What do I do with all of this?" Aliyah asked referring to the bag of cash that Landy gave her.

Landy shook her head with a chuckle, "Aali, that's yours," she replied, making Aliyah's eyes widened.

"All of it?"

"Yeah, Grayson already took what he always does, so the rest is yours," she replied and Aaliyah couldn't help but feel happy. She knows she probably made more than what her parents used to make in a month.

"Oh, wow. Well, I'm gonna go change, I'll see you tomorrow Lands," Aaliyah replied before getting up and walking towards the back room, where she changed into a pair of joggers and a hoodie, and grabbed all of her stuff, and made her way out before she was stopped by Grayson.

"You did nice out there. I'm impressed," he said, making her blush, thankfully she had a natural sort of blush which didn't make it obvious.

"Thank you," she whispered, clutching on to her bag, turning her head to look outside, the darkness making her stomach drop.

"Whoa, are you okay?" He asked, noticing a change in her aura.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just gotta walk back home now," she sighed looking at the time on her phone, it was almost 4 am meaning there was no bus, and she didn't have enough money in her card, meaning getting an Uber was out the window.

"I can drive you,"

"No, no it's okay. I'm fine really," she shook her head but Grayson refused.

"No, it's dark out, and you're a pretty girl walking by yourself in an area like this, it won't end up pretty," he said making her let out a sigh, "Come on, I'll take you,"

The walk to his car was quiet, and her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when they reached his car, but she calmed herself down, letting out a thank you when he opened the door for her.

"Where do you live?"

"Harmony Apartments in the east, it's like 10 minutes from here," she explained and he nodded his head before pulling out of the parking and driving away, the only thing to be heard was the soft music and the turn signals when he turned them on.

"What are you studying?" He asked randomly, getting fed up with all the silence.

"Oh, umm education. I wanna be a preschool teacher. Kinda ironic I know," she chuckled, shaking her head before turning to look out the window.

"You like kids?" He asked and she nodded her head.

"Yeah, they're so cute," she smiled, "And honest too,"

"Yeah, they are. And random," he replied back as she nodded her head.

"I love when they're random, they just randomly go up to you with a story or something," she replied before turning to look at him, his jaw clenched as he looked into the distance, hands tightly against the steering wheel.

"College is hard isn't it?"

"I mean, it's different for everyone but not for me. It was hard finding a job because of the schedule on all, and no one really wants to hire college students," she sighed shaking her head, "But I enjoy it, the classes are boring but it's tolerable,"

"That's why you picked this job?"

"Well, that and because I took classes and did dance before. Plus it seemed fun," she shrugged, unconsciously playing with her fingers.

"For your first time, you did great. I was actually really impressed. Most girls are usually nervous and mess up," he chuckled as a slight blush made itself comfortable on her face.

"Oh trust me, I was nervous as fuck. I thought I was gonna faint," she chuckled, at that moment, Grayson had the sudden urge to scold her for making dirty words come out of her pretty little mouth, but he couldn't, so he just nodded his head and continued paying attention to the road, "But Lands gave me some tips and helped me, so I owe that her,"

"Landy's nice. All of the girls like you, except one. She already made that complaint to me, and made it really clear about her hate towards you" he said rolling his eyes, pulling over in front of her apartment.

"What? How? Let me guess, it was Blake?" She asked and he nodded his head.

Aliyah knew she was eventually going to have problems with Blake. She managed to catch all the glares she was sending her, and how she rolled her eyes when London said Aaliyah made the most that night. Add in the fact that Aaliyah hated people with Blake's personality. People who thought the world revolved around them, and who thought everyone was worried about their every move when no one even cared about it.

"She said you would make everyone else look bad. Which is not true. But just ignore her, and if she says something to you, you tell me okay?"

"Yeah, thank you. And thank you for the ride," she smiled unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door.

"It was no problem. See you tomorrow," Grayson replied as she got out of the car and waved him goodbye. He waited until she was inside to drive away.

That week was great for Aaliyah. She paid off all of her debt in only three days and had time for herself as well, since she only worked from Monday to Saturday and it was in the night. Meaning she had the afternoon and Sundays for herself.

"Aali, we're going out for drinks tonight, you wanna come?" London asked her, it was Wednesday meaning the club closed early and the girls sometimes went for drinks that day.

"I can come with you guys, but I don't drink," she smiled and London nodded her head.

"Okay good come on, it's just down the street," London replied, Aaliyah put her stuff away before getting up and following London and the rest out of the club and into the street.

"First time going to a bar?" Lands said and Aali nodded her head, clutching on to her purse as people walked between them. With every step she took, her black dress showed off her curves to anyone who was walking behind her.

"Yeah, but there's a first for everything right?" She said and Lands nodded her head, holding the door for Aali as they walked inside.

The theme was similar to Grayson's club. Bright color changing lights, the music was loud, the only difference was that there was no stage, and less seating arrangements and the middle of the club was filled with sweaty hormone filled bodies that swayed on and off-beat to the music. The air was filled with a scent of weed, and she was sure that if she were to get a test, it would come out positive. The smell suddenly turned so strong, she was confused until she looked at Lands who had a blunt pressed against her lips.

"Want some?" She asked and Aali quickly shook her head, repulsed by the idea of putting such a thing in her body.

"Well then, more for me," Lands giggled, making Aali chuckle as she shook her head.

"Come on, let's get a drink," Land grabbed Aali's hand, dragging her towards the bar, the bartender playfully rolling his eyes as he greeted her.

"New friend?" He asked scanning Aaliyah's figure.

"Yeah, she's the baby now," she replied taking the small shot he handed her.

He looked over her, his eyes scanning her, "You drink? You look underage,"

"I am, so I'm good," she replied nodding her head.

"Prepare to be amazed by the show people put up," he said, making her chuckle.

"Trust me, I know drunk people," she giggled and he nodded his head.

"Just be prepared to take care of this one," he said and looked at Lands, playfully shaking his head.

"I am not that bad," she groaned, but she knew she was. She knew because she doesn't remember and usually Brandom has to tell her what she did.

"Anyways, I'm Brandom," he said, extending his hand towards Aaliyah.

"Aaliyah," she said, taking his hand in hers and shaking, "So what is there for me to do around here?"

"Well, you can dance, or admire the show, just make sure you don't break anything, or get in trouble," he replied and she nodded her head.

It had only been about 5 minutes and she was already bored. Landy was already in her own universe, and from what she could see, Alex and Maria were making out with a couple of people while London was dancing doing her thing.

"Don't worry I feel you. Kinda ironic that I'm a bartender and don't drink," Brandon chuckled, shaking his head.

Aali nodded her head before turning to look at him, "I'm going to college to be a preschool teacher and a dancer at night, I feel like that's ironic too,"

"Oh, it is. Just hope you don't see your kids dad there," he said making her laugh.

"I would die. Imagine, they see me all presentable during the day, and almost naked at night," she shook her head, her brain making up a little image.

"That would be iconic," he giggled, shaking his head, before excusing himself to serve someone a drink.

"Aaliyyyyyy," London came up to her, dragging her name out, Aaliyah let out a sigh, wondering what a drunk girl would want her for, "Come dance with me, please," she giggled and Aali nodded her head before getting up, following London to the dance floor, instantly recognizing the song, her hips immediately moving to the beat.

"Mmmh, I love this song," London giggled, before slowly dropping down and coming back up, 'Like This' by MiMS, was London's favorite song, and Aaliy learned that because she repeated it at least 5 times as the song played.

"Me too," Aaliyah replied, the music flowed through her body as she moved along to it, "London?" she asked once she didn't feel no one behind her.

She turned around to notice that London was dancing with someone else, some random man, with a shrugged she turned around and began dancing by herself until she felt a pair of strange hands wrapped around her waist and someone's back press against hers.

"No pretty lady should be dancing by herself," an unfamiliar man's voice whispered in her ear, tightening his grip around her waist, making shiver's run up and down her spine, but not the good kind of goosebumps.

"Unless she wants to," she replied back, trying to move away, "let me go,"

"Oh come on baby, just one dance," he chuckled against her eye, making her nerves go up.

"No. Let me go," she said through gritted teeth, trying to push that large man away but he wouldn't budge, he moved one of his hands to her ass, gripping it harshly making her let out a scared whine.

"Let me go, please," she whined, tears pricking at her eyes.

"Let her go, Britiolli," Grayson's voice said, making her and the man behind her freeze, only he didn't let her go, instead he tightened his grip around her.

"Is she one of yours Dolan?" The man asked teasingly, an evil chuckle falling past his lips as he roamed his hands over her body, stopping on her boobs and squeezing them, the tears on her eyes finally spilling.

Her fear suddenly went away as Grayson ripped her away from him, hiding her behind his back as his fist connected with Tony's jaw, a loud groan left Tony's mouth as he slightly stumbled up, hands reaching up to cup his jaw.

"I said don't touch her. Get the fuck out Britiolli before I call them," Grayson warned. With an attitude filled scoff, he walked away.

He turned around before fully walking away, a smirk on his face, knowing that what he was about to say was going to make Grayson furious, "She was asking for it anyway." He always knew what buttons to press when it came to Grayson.

Tony Britiolli was a different and difficult man, but we'll leave that for another time.

Aaliyah's hand clutched on to Grayson's arm, preventing him from doing something that he might or might not regret, "Hey, it's okay, I'm okay," she whispered, her mascara smudged from the few tears she let out, and her voice shaky.

"Did he hurt you?" He asked, receiving a head shake from her as he watched him leave. Grayson was furious.

Tony and he had always had bad blood. Ever since kids, it's always been like a competition; One that Grayson always beat him at of course.

Grayson Dolan was a man of many secrets. No one knew who he truly was. Most people would tell you he was a club owner. Others would tell you he was an arrogant piece of shit, and others, well, everyone had their own stories.

Grayson was organized and kept to himself. Not a thing could go wrong when it came to his plans or events. Organized in the way that everything was neatly placed, in the week and a half that Aaliyah had known him, everything was always the same. Not a single thing out of place. But he was mysterious. She was always able to read people, but when it came to Grayson, there was something about him unknown. Something that not many people noticed unless they paid close attention. He was so good at hiding that Aaliyah herself didn't even know what it was. Not that she wanted to, not wanting to invade his privacy and obviously she needed to respect his boundaries.

"I'm okay. I promise, I was a bit shaken up, I'm fine now," she replied as he exclaimed her body, making sure she was fully alright.

He didn't know why, but he felt obligated to protect her and keep her safe. He knew she was fragile and his body felt the need to protect her. He was drawn to her in every way possible, and in only one week it was driving him insane how innocent she was. She was innocent, but when she was with the group it made her even more innocent. He's heard all of their conversations, and in every single one of them, she always says 'not yet' and Grayson couldn't help but think of himself teaching her how to do everything she doesn't know.

In his eyes, she was an angel. So innocent and pure, and he wouldn't dare to miss one of her performances, he was always watching her. Making sure no one did everything to his little angel.

His little angel. He swore to himself no one but him would ever touch her. No one would ever harm her. Of course, no one didn't need to know he would call her that, even himself. He denied it to himself at first, knowing they were from completely different worlds, one being age wise with him being 7 years older than her, and the other being that he was involved in a much deeper world. So he would protect her from afar. Protect her from himself too.

Only if he could keep himself away. He tried and succeeded. Until one day he walked in on her and Maria speaking Spanish and he couldn't help but get worked up. The way words smoothly came out of her mouth, her accent being carved deep inside his brain.

No one had ever, in the 29 years that Grayson Dolan has been alive, been able to plant themselves in his brain, but then again no one needed to know that.

"God, I hate that asshole," he groaned, his anger level being too hard to control by himself, but the feeling of her hand against his bare arm was enough to make him forget about everything.

"Me too, I guess" she chuckled, shaking her head, "He scared me so much, I thought he was going to drag me away," she nervously said, shaking her head at her absurd thoughts, she crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands up and down her the opposite arms to try and calm herself down, and forget the feeling of his hands touching her body.

Which in reality weren't so absurd, if only she knew.

"You're okay now, trust me, he won't be near you anytime soon," she nodded her head at Grayson's statement before looking around the place, no longer feeling like being there. Anything fun that the bar had to offer was thrown out the window as soon as the unwanted pair of hands wrapped around her.

"Thank you, I think I'm gonna head home now," she smiled up at him, finally getting to see his gorgeous face for that first time that night, "I'm tired,"

"Do you need me to drive you?"

"Oh no, I don't want to bother you. I've only been causing problems for you," she shook her head. In Grayson's mind, he was yelling at her that she wasn't. Instead, ever since she walked into his life, she made him feel more at peace.

"Aaliyah please, you know that is not true," he shook his head before grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the back of the bar, leaving through a back door which led to the same parking lot he had taken her on her first day.

"Wait, this is yours too?" She asked and he nodded his head, opening her door and getting a shy thank you from her as he closed it once she was seated inside the car.

"Did you meet Brandom?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, he's nice and funny," she replied as she stared out the window into the light contaminated sky, the stars barely visible due to so many buildings with bright lights and signs.

"That he is. Just be careful around him, he takes signals to his own advantage," he said and she nodded her head in response.

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain. Just don't let him get comfortable around you, yeah?" He shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening making his biceps flex as his knuckles turned white from the pressure he was applying, Aaliyah's eyes widening before she forced herself to look away.

"Can I tell you something? I don't want to start any drama, just clarify some things," she shyly asked, her tone was soft and hesitant, debating on whether she should say it or not.

"Yeah, you can tell me anything," he nodded his head, "you know that,"

"Well, last Thursday after we were done, Blake threatened me. She said that if I didn't get away, she would sabotage me and make me lose my job. She said that I was getting too comfortable around you and everyone," she whispered. And Grayson was not surprised, but he still couldn't help but feel angry.

"Why didn't you tell me this the day of Aliyah? I told you that if you had any problems you need to come to me," he carefully said, not wanting to look like he was scolding but getting the message that he was upset across.

"I don't know, It just feels like I'm back in high school, snitching," she shook head before the feeling of his hand on her bare thigh made her tense up but then quickly went back to normal because it was just him.

"It's not snitching when it's a threat, Aaliyah. I'll handle that with her, but please next time just let me know on time okay?" He said and she nodded her head, physically remaining calm while her body combusted inside.

"I promise," her voice came out soft and relaxed as she let herself relax against the seat. Her body felt exhausted and stressed from the entire week, and it was only the middle of it.

"I'll always protect you, angel," was the last thing she heard before drifting away to sleep, Grayson's words drifting off in the air, as the memory from falling asleep would soon be wiped away from her brain.