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baby-grayson · 4 years ago

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Kind Stranger| GBD

Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny) Trigger Warning: quarantine talk A/N: This is my first fic post ever! Please let me know what you think about this little teaser. Please please give me feedback about if I should keep going or if I can improve at all!!

The saltwater hit his tongue sharply. His body fell alongside his board in the water. While his feet met the ground again, he quickly scooped up the wayward board before it floated too far away. Arriving back on the shore, he dug the bottom of the board into the heavy, wet sand. He sat next to it, the tide kissing his feet and bare legs as it danced along the shore. He took a deep breath. He was at peace.

Grayson Dolan didn’t feel peace often: at least, not lately. The past two years had been one chaotic haze after another. Moving into a house in LA. Being on Fear Factor. Having his first stalker. Being there to watch his father pass. Starting a fragrance company. Erupting into a workaholic pattern of self-destruction to avoid dealing with the emotions of his father’s death. Announcing to his over 10million fans that he and Ethan had reached their last emotional string and needed to pursue a life that was happiest for them, including projects that pushed them as creators.

The creative projects were as scary and dizzying as they were exciting. He and Ethan traveled across the country in a custom van. They explored the Australian wilderness. They started a podcast with their friend, Ryan, to introduce the real, mature versions of themselves to the internet. Grayson had a small black notebook in his bottom left desk drawer with project ideas and timelines for the year.

But that notebook became pointless when the pandemic hit. He and Ethan were in the process of finding a new house after an incident with an unhealthily obsessed fan when the shelter in place orders hit. The first month was unstable; no one should have to move to a new house in the middle of a pandemic. But the craziness subsided eventually, Grayson and Ethan found a home to call their own for the first time in their lives. After living in close quarters during construction left them at each other’s throats, they found a rental in Malibu to live out the rest of their quarantine days. Periodically, the visited their mother in New Jersey.

Visiting New Jersey did not exactly follow the CDC guidelines. Grayson quelled the risk in his heart with the importance of his mother. If she wasn’t working and he and Ethan only ever saw each other, how dangerous could it really be? Besides, his mother needed him. After the death of his father, his mother was left alone in their house in rural New Jersey. She had nothing but the memories of buying the home, bringing home two twin baby boys, teaching her daughter how to ride a bike, and having tough conversations about her sons’ dreams… Yeah, she needed him. Grayson decided. Grayson still held guilt from not spending enough time with his mother after his father passed. He loved her more than anything, and in a deep place, a place so deep that he didn’t dare think on often, he would never forgive himself for not being there for her in the weeks following his father’s passing.

He thought of her often: like on this beach in Malibu. He thought of how she’d love to pull up a beach chair and enjoy a Mojito while soaking up the sun. The image almost made him chuckle. For a short second, he pictured Ethan and Cameron there with her. Cameron would pull up a beach chair next to their mother, blasting her latest musical obsession from a stereo. Ethan would try to surf, but eventually his more whimsical tendencies would give out and he’d try building the biggest sandcastle a 20-year-old man child could muster.

Grayson chuckled to himself, he buried his hands in the sand at his sides. He played with it in his palms, feeling the fine granules pass over his coarse skin. A thousand little diamonds slowly withering away at a firm and precise exterior. He was also reminded of his mother constantly telling him to exfoliate his callouses from building.

This was Grayson mid-pandemic. The mess of finding a house passed. The initial marvel of staying busy inside the house passed. Hell, even the wonder of cutting his home-grown mullet had passed. Now, he and Ethan traded turns being the more bored twin. Ethan had re-watched Stranger Things about 10 times by now. Grayson spent his days working out, following his regimented daily routine to soon reach a Planche Hold. Occasionally, one of them would reach a deeper state of boredom and go to bother the other twin. They would go to bed and rehearse the routine again the next day.

Unfortunately for Grayson, Ethan slept like the dead. His twin brother usually slept until 11:00 AM; the pandemic had pushed that to a firm 1:00PM. His brother’s sleeping beauty impression left Grayson with nearly half a day to himself. Grayson made a ritual out of going surfing. The beach was secluded enough to not require the precautionary thinking of masks and hygiene in a pandemic. It was just Grayson, his board, and the ocean. He spent his alone time thinking of the important people in his life. In some ways, this pandemic was almost a good thing for him. He spent last year moving too fast among emotions he was too immature to process on his own. This year the world forced him to move too slow in an attempt to let his mind and heart catch up to the rest of his life. His introspective moments on the sand and sea were his own to experience and process alone. Except today.

She looked down at him and smiled, “Good Morning”

His lips turned up softly, “Morning”

He watched as she walked away: a long, dark ponytail fluttering in the wind over a flowy, white sundress sundress with a small, leather purse hanging at her hip. Grayson leaned back on his palms when he noticed something. Her footprints weren’t even. In the sand, one foot was about two inches deeper than the other. He furrowed his brow, pondering it for a second before shaking his head. He dipped his hands in the water and wet his newly cropped haircut. He was seeing things, probably swallowing too much salt. He grabbed his board and headed up shore to his van.

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He wouldn’t have recognized her without the hair. The next day, he was paddling back to shore on his board when she walked by. He could make out her long, dark hair against the pale, sandy background. He squinted: not being able to tell if she was looking back at him. He smiled brightly and outwardly, just in case she could see him. His smile faded in a few seconds. what am I doing? He thought before padding back to shore to make his usually introspective campsite.

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The third day, he was firmly in deep thought about his next tattoo when she walked by. They made eye contact as they flashed each other warm, but polite, smiles. “Good Morning” “Good Morning”.

This secluded little beach not his own anymore. He shared it with a kind stranger. She was a silent reminder that the world continued to turn outside of his fast-paced, modern, social media based lifestyle. Okay he thought maybe I’m being a bit deep …but it’s nice to have someone else around I guess.

Their routine played for two weeks. She would walk by Grayson, either as he was coming to land again or paddling his way back to shore. They exchanged greetings and smiles as they passed. By the time she turned around and walked back to her car again, Grayson was gone. Sometimes she saw the imprint of him in the sand when he was gone and thought about him when he wasn’t there. For a few minutes, she would muse to herself about his name. Sterling? No too Disney. Lance? No too King Arthur. William? No too Royal Family.

Occasionally, Grayson would think back to her outside of his beach visits. Maybe he passed a girl with long, dark hair in the grocery store, or maybe he saw someone about her size on the other side of a parking lot, he would catch his breath quickly before realizing it wasn’t her. What would I even say? Are we friends? She probably doesn’t remember what I look like. Why do I care? That last one got him.

Why did he care? Sure, he thought, she was pretty. She seemed nice, well okay her Good Mornings sound nice…nicest he’d heard in a while considering the only other person who wished him a good morning was Ethan. Maybe that was just it, he was spending too much time by himself or with Ethan. Ethan and Grayson had been quarantined together for almost four months now. The only other people he had seen was his mother, sister, and friend Ryan. When you only speak to 4 other people face to face for four months, the girl on the beach was a contender for one of his closest friends. The thought settled well in his brain, rationalizing his anxieties about seeing her in public.

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About two weeks later, on a Tuesday morning, the sky was grey as the sun hid behind the clouds; the ocean water was unusually murky with dense foam. Grayson’s head must have been in the grey clouds because his usual surfing excursion left him tumbling around in the water more than usual. He started back for the shore earlier than usual, sensing that today was simply not his day. When the water reached his chest, Grayson started to walk upright in the water while dragging his board behind him. Not a few seconds later, he felt a sharp pain stab the outer edge of his left foot. “FUCK”, he swore out loud and gasped. The saltwater heightened the pain as he continued to trudge through the water.

He arrived on shore and noticed a jagged, long cut along the side of his right foot. The saltwater washed away the blood seeping through the wound: all that was left was a deep, slender slice taken out of the side of his foot. He tossed his board down, not bothering to dig it into the sand. He sat on the waters edge, trying to wash the sand out of the wound but wincing when the salt returned with its pointed sting. He groaned softly to himself.

I can’t walk back to the car like this, he thought to himself.

He threw his head back, frustrated with the situation. Frustrated with how he might have scratched his board on a rock from tossing it down. Frustrated from the deep wound spewing blood from his foot. Frustrated with his loneliness. Frustrated with the pandemic. Frustrated with his career. It all lead him here: sitting on a beach, more than half naked, with a bloody foot and a bruised ego. He sighed out loud and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are you okay?”

Grayson nearly jumped, not because she was mean or aggressive but because he was having his internal meltdown under the impression that he was alone. He forgot about his little beach friend. Her brow furrowed softly, oh shit I should say something.

“Yeah, I uhh I just got cut up is all” Grayson waived his injured foot softly from where it lay.

She hesitated for a second, neither of them was wearing a mask. Surely Dr. Fauci would approve of her helping a lone stranger who was in pain. She ignored the premonition, figuring that she wouldn’t be seeing anyone else soon anyway but remembering to put a mask in her purse for any future first aid incidents.

“Do you need a hand?” Her eyes were kind and caring, a deep brown that looked nearly gold in the grey light of that Tuesday morning. Grayson found himself looking at her, really looking at her for the first time since they started sharing the beach. She did not notice Grayson’s awkward gawk getting the best of him. She bent her head down, her eyes leaving Grayson’s gaze to search her purse for something. Grayson realized how small she was, probably only 5 feet tall and slender framed underneath her T-shirt and shorts. She unearthed a small, white package from within her purse. “Bandaid?” she offered, holding it out to him.

“Yeah that’d be great,” Grayson nodded softly and took the package from her. He looked from the white box to his cut and his muscles tensed up, unsure of where to start. He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide with uncertainty. She smiled softly at him, reassuring that frustrated place in his heart slightly. “Want some help?”, she was already kneeling down before he could start nodding.

Grayson slipped the white bandage box into her small palm as she started wiping away the larger pieces of sand around the cut. “You think it could get infected?” he asked, “By something in the water?”

She laid a piece of gauze over his cut as she shook her head. “No, the salt in the water would act as an electrolyte to dehydrate the phospholipid bilayer of any aquatic bacteria before it even got in.” He felt his eyebrows raise. She wrapped his foot in a larger bandage before adding, “uh I mean… it’s salt water, so you’ll be fine…..how did you do this anyway?”

“I must’ve stepped on a rock coming out of the water,” Grayson coolly forgot to mention his earlier debacle of looking like a Saint Bernard on a surfboard.

“If a big guy like you can get taken down by a rock, I have no chance in this world,” she remarked while standing up and putting the box back in her purse. Grayson laughed out loud with a wide smile. Her joke wasn’t even that funny, but it had been so long since he heard someone make a joke besides Ethan.

She smiled down at him, “I like the band” she gestured toward the solid black tattoo on his right ankle. “I think I would go with an anklet though,” she added with a soft confidence.”

Grayson tried to stand on the freshly bandage foot, “True but this way I’ll never lose it in the ocean.”

It was her turn to laugh, she flashed a bright smile at him and let out a happy sound. Her laugh died down as Grayson stood up tall: a tanned, muscular Adonis standing before her. “Well um..I’m glad to see you’re doing okay,” she started to step away from him, “See you later.” She smiled before turning away.

“See you later,” Grayson waved goodbye as she turned her back and continued her walk. He stopped himself, why was a grown man waving goodbye in public like a kindergartener at school? He let his hand fall to his side before picking up his board and walking back to his van. He looked down at his foot, I guess Ethan is taking out the trash tonight..and making me dinner.

On the other side of the beach, she drew in a breath and cursed to herself, shit..I didn’t get his name..

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Grayson returned to the beach the next morning without his board. He decided that getting his bandaged (freshly done and kissed with love by Ethan) foot was too much of a risk. Also, he feared cutting up his good foot with a matching gash. He couldn’t depend on pretty girls with nice eyes to always be there with bandaids. Instead, he sat down on the sand, letting the water run over his right foot and leg. He held his injured leg in his bicep, folding his knee up to meet his chest. With his free arm, he tried to skip stones in the water from his position on the ground.

He tried his best to enjoy his introspective morning with the ocean, even though he wasn’t in the water.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your board” she looked down at him from under the visor of a black baseball hat.

He chucked, “Boards don’t pair well with bandaged feet.” He smiled up at her, “Thank you, by the way, for yesterday. I really appreciate it… You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem….just being a kind stranger,” outwardly, she smiled gently but inwardly she cringed at the awkwardness of her own words. Grayson smiled gently back at her, she can’t have been too awkward if he’s still looking at her right?

“My names Kate”

“I’m Grayson” A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! This is the first thing I am ever posting and would really appreciate any feedback you have about whether or not I should keep going. <3

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impaladolan · 4 years ago

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Control Freak - Grayson Dolan

summary: after being summoned to the new CEO’s head office, or rather dungeon, there’s an unexpected twist when y/n becomes, what some would say, mouthy with her relatively new boss..

warnings: smut & swearing, the usual :)

tag(s): @joyfuldolann tehe

a/n: i’ve never really done tags, but if you’d like to participate in them— (such as for future series or control-freak/capture parts) leave a comment on any of my posts or even dm me! (only if you want, don’t feel obligated to do so, it’s just for fun :)))) ily! <3 also, sorry if this is crappy.. i’m not the biggest fan of this part, but i really wanted to get something out for you all!

part one

"I'd like to have a word with you, in my office."

His voice rang in your ears, like a symphony or an orchestra in a small room. So as you slowly walk down the hall, past the secretaries and into his large, barricaded office, you had internally convinced yourself that he's just a guy that's your boss. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

So you thought...

"Ms. Y/L/N." He addresses as soon as you shut the large door and turn around, though his eyes were glued to his large computer. "Sit." He demands, looking towards you for a moment and nodding to the chair sat in front of his huge desk. You hurry to answer his command, seating yourself in the cushiony furniture. You take a quick look around the room, the colors and décor a lot more darker and dungeon-y than Mr. Kidman had it. It almost made you sleepy, until his voice snapped;

"You should be a little less intrusive with your own thoughts, Ms. Y/L/N." He had fully turned, giving you his undivided attention with his brow arched and a signature smirk dotting his plump lips. You felt your cheeks go hot from just his voice, and his snippy, cockiness as well. "How're you to know exactly what I'm thinking, if I may ask Mr. Dolan?" You assertively question, crossing your legs as you furrow your brow with intent. You knew what games he was playing, and you'd play them right back if it meant putting him in his place, questionably.

"It's all about body language, darling. You seem to fidget a lot in my presence, which I notice that you don't do in anyone else's.” He begins, watching as you surely begin to run your hand along the ends of your skirt, something you normally do when you’re nervous. “You're a bit more sassy and less reserved when you're talking to me, and your cheeks seem to turn red when I directly speak to you, do they not?" He now had his large hands settled on the tabletop, fiddling his thumbs back and forth while he pursed his lips in question. He had completely caught you off guard and all the more stunned and almost embarrassed. "Sir.. I don't understand what you—"

"Or the way you dozed off that entire meeting. Tell me, Y/N, what were you daydreaming about, hm? Something work related I suppose?" He was quick to interrupt you, adding a fiery anger, much like Kidman's, to your attitude. "Listen, you cocky fucking asshole. I'm tired of your stupid pestering so if you could just get straight to the point instead of me having to sit here and endure your little go-arounds for another half hour, it'd be greatly appreciated." You violently whisper, standing from your seat with your arms crossed and your lips in a thin line.

You're a very tolerant person, but his continuous egging on was bound to make you burst anyway. But what made you even more extravagantly angered was his hoarse chuckle that began to rumble throughout the room. "Cocky fucking asshole, huh?" He continues his girthy laugh, standing from his seat and slowly strolling around to the front of his desk. You slightly gulp when he towers you with his height, his intensity and nonchalantness at the same time a bit too much to bear. "I'd watch that pretty little mouth of yours, princess, before it gets you into some real trouble." He seats himself on the front edge, examining you head-to-toe with his beading eyes. You grew stiff, not wanting to make a sound or remark in his wavering stare.

Perhaps to keep from getting in trouble, maybe?

"I'd say the same to you, if it weren't for yours being rather large, than little." You incoherently scoff, surprising yourself with your own words. His face contorted from his relaxed look into a more furious looking one. His grip on the ledge of his oak wood desk had tightened, making the tops of his hands whiter and more constructed than they would look relaxed. His indented cheekbones grew more visible and his eyes seemed to darken out of nowhere.

He does look very ravishing when he's angry..

Suddenly, you feel his tight grip on your hips, shoving you back down into the chair without a warning. "Y'know, Kidman told me about you," He began, waltzing away from you and around your chair, undoing his tie in the process. All the while you sat there with wide eyes and a fluttery feeling down near the pit of your stomach. It gave you goosebumps clear down your arms and legs. "He said you were a very independent, hardworking women that's quiet and respectable. But frankly, you've proved him wrong." He sighs as he turns to face you, still sat in the chair, with a sharp and pointed look that gave you the good tinglings. "Well, frankly," You mock his tone, "You've only known me for the minimum of three hours, Mr. Dolan. You're just assuming." You point out, with a ghastly smile.

To that, he loudly slaps his hands on the arms of the chair that you were forcefully sat in, his face becoming of close proximity to yours. "Have anything else to say before I smack that tiny little ass of yours?" He questions with the raise of his brow, sending another one of the flooding shivers down your entire body.

Fuck.

If it wasn't for your lack of correct, impulsive decision making skills, you would have walked away and finished whatever work you had left and hurried home. But instead, you flipped yourself over and laid on the chair, ready for whatever he wanted to do to you.

"Take that fucking skirt off." He deeply orders, taking his blazer off angrily after unclipping his belt buckle. You obey almost immediately, shimming the skirt down your legs and unbuttoning the first couple buttons of your white dress shirt. You firstly feel his fingers softly glide over your asscheek, trailing towards your thong and looping his index finger under the thin fabric. With a tight, forceful pull, he rips it in half and tosses the bunched up silk to the side as you gasp with surprise. You close your eyes as you feel his hand glaze over asscheek once again, readying yourself for what would eventually hurt like hell.

But instead of what potentially would have been a slap, you feel his large hands roughly pull your legs apart, and his cock slam down into your noticeably aroused pussy. You loudly yelp, securing your hands around whatever you could while his settled at the valley of your hips. “Fuck, yes.” He breathlessly groans with his head thrown back and his eyes scrunched with immense pleasure. Your eyes began to water and the beginning of his slow, steady thrusts made your pussy clench with the desire of more. You had your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to keep your sounds and contentment as quiet as possible.

You hadn’t even realized how long it’s been since you’ve had real, carefree sex. You honestly forgot how good and scandalous it felt. Though, you started to remember, even in your hazed state of mind, that it was your new boss standing behind you. But before you could even get a chance to agree or take action from your right state of mind, you felt him lift you up and rush the two of you over to the other side of his spacious desk, his cock still embedded inside you and unmoving.

He lays you on your back, grabbing the opened part of your shirt and ripping it off, his teeth gritted and his brows furrowed as he swiftly unclips your bra and pulls it down your arms. Unlike his slowness before, he began to speed up quickly, barreling into you like he hadn’t done it in years. Which would be true if he hadn’t drunkenly slept with a women he had met at the bar almost a year ago, but he faintly remembers that anyway.

You became used to the pressure that once stretched your walls uncomfortably, but now it felt right. The way he entered you, at a slight angle, made your legs quiver with desire and the yearning for more. And when he touched that certain spot, oh god it made you whine like crazy.

“Fuck—there!” He had you almost screaming, which made him all the more aroused and heightened. He continued his harsh poundings, bringing his hands from your hips and softly up your stomach until they reached your perky breasts. He toyed with your sharpened nipple, grinning at the sensation it brought to you when you arched your back. With the sudden shaking of your legs and the unshielded moans you let loose, he could just tell you were extremely close.

“Don’t you fucking cum yet, Y/N. I’ve hardly fucking started with you.” Grayson then harshly brought his hand down to your soaked clit, rubbing it in quick circles. You weren’t really one to disobey authority, but it seems like getting on Grayson Dolan’s, the CEO of the company Choff, nerves were a bit more fun and exhilarating.

So when you felt the extremely bound knot in your stomach begin to want to unravel— you just let it. You came over his engulfed cock that continued to sink into you as you hardly breathe, the overflowing feeling and sensation that numbed your entire body washing over you. You weren’t given anytime to reassess, because he continued his thrusts, speeding himself up with an anger you’ve never seen before. He picked you up again, slamming you against the wall with one of his hands holding your ass up while the other kept your hands above your head.

“That’s fucking it—��

Though, the two of you were too caught up in each other to realize that someone was at the door, stunned and shocked at the scene playing out..

(masterlist)

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