chloe

thems the rules

[perfectlyrose]

all i want to do is write that one fic that takes people’s breath away and kinda lingers in the back of their minds. i want to write something that makes people want to make art and play with my versions of characters or in the universe i created. i want to be able to create worlds that feel real enough to walk into and write lines that stick with people until they forget where exactly they heard it because it lives in their bones now.

[zeindaya]

Lily James as Donna Sheridan in Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018)

[dolansficsandpics-deactivated20]

French Toast & Strawberries (g.d.)

Summary: You keep Grayson company as he makes breakfast. 

Warnings: fluffy 

dedicated to @evergreendolan 🤍

“Good morning sleepyhead,” Grayson smirked as you entered the kitchen. The counter was covered in plates and ingredients for the famous french toast recipe he had stolen from his twin. 

You rubbed your puffy eyes to rid them of your slumber and pulled the sleeves of Grayson’s neon green Shadow Hill hoodie over your hands. “Mornin,” you mumbled. You inhaled deeply to take in the scent of the cinnamon toast cooking on the stovetop. “Smells nice.” 

Grayson smiled proudly and flipped the slices of bread to the other side, his biceps naturally flexing and highlighting the veins in his arms. 

You knew Grayson hated when people got in his way while he was in the kitchen, but his bare back and broad shoulders were calling your name. You trudged over to him, barely lifting your feet off the ground. Your arms snaked around his waist, squeezing him gently as you rested your cheek against his warm back. 

Grayson chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at you. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothin,” you shrugged, your arms still wrapped securely around him. You placed a gentle kiss on his back just above his long tattoo. “Need any help?” you rested your chin on him and stared up at him. 

“Um, you could cut up some strawberries,” he flashed you a grin. “They’re in the fridge.” 

You nodded and pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cold without his warm body pressed against your chest. You got the strawberries from the fridge and washed them before cutting them up.  

As you waited for the toast to be ready, you hoisted yourself up onto the counter, sitting with your legs crossed at the ankles and watching your boyfriend. You adored how his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and how the chain around his neck rested so peacefully on his collarbone. 

Grayson finally placed the squares of toast onto two plates for both of you and you naturally reached over to place the strawberries on top. He drizzled maple syrup over the meal and immediately cut a piece with his fork, making sure to get a strawberry in there before holding up the fork to your mouth. 

“I can feed myself, ya know,” you chuckled. You unhooked your ankles and opened your legs for him to stand between your knees. 

“Oh, hush, I’m trying to be cute,” he laughed and waved the fork in front of your mouth until you let him feed you. He had one hand on your thigh while the other fed you. 

Of course, the food was delicious, not too sweet and not too plain. Just the right amount of cinnamon and syrup to make your mouth water. 

“Mmm, oh my god, that’s amazing,” you spoke with your mouth full and immediately helped yourself to another bite. “What else can you cook, hm?” you joked. It was a true blessing to have a boyfriend who was so willing to cook for you. 

Grayson smirked. “It’s that good, huh?” his confidence was dialed up a notch. He helped himself to a forkful and nodded approvingly. You chuckled and put your fork down, placing your hands on his cheeks to bring his face closer to yours. You placed a kiss on his lips, tasting the tiny drop of syrup on his bottom lip. 

“Hey, where’s my french toast?” Ethan threw his hands up in confusion as he searched the counter for a third plate. 

Grayson peeled his lips from yours and chuckled. “Make it yourself, bro.” 

[vintagedolan]

dark (part two)

this is a continuation of dark, which you can read here

after the break in, you try to put on your brave face, but you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be

word count: 4.6k

warnings/tags: dark themes

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Nothing felt worse than overstaying your welcome, and although he would never say anything, you felt bad for taking up so much of Nick’s space in his already small apartment. So, you finally put your foot down on the third night in the twin bed, sitting up to look at Grayson as he laid against the pillows.

“We’re going back tomorrow. We aren’t gonna just hide out here.” 

“Are you ready to go back?” There was no pity in his tone, just sincere concern as he rested his hand on your hip, rubbing circles. He was constantly touching you now, a reassurance for him more than for you.

“No, but we don’t really have a choice do we?” You let out a dry laugh, resisting the urge to scratch at the scab on your neck. It was still a bit tender, but you’d refused the bandage - it just made it more noticeable, put you on edge.

“Of course we do. We aren’t going back until you’re 100% ready. I mean that.”

“Grayson. I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be 100% ready,” you admitted, hating that you sounded a bit weak, a bit scared. You’d never admit anything like that to anyone but Grayson, and you watched carefully to see how he was going to take it. It was like clicking through pictures on a ViewMaster, each one changing rapidly before your eyes - sadness, anger, fear, uncertainty. It was killing him to see you, his strong girl, feeling fragile.

“Hey. C’mere.” He didn’t wait for you, instead just pulled you tightly against his chest, knowing that at least if you were in his arms he could keep you safe. “We’ll rent a different house or something. Hell, I’ll buy a new house, sell the one we have.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you joked, but even in the darkness of the room you could tell there was nothing humorous about it to him. His arms only tightened.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make you feel safe again, and if that’s what I have to do then that’s what I’ll do.” 

And Grayson was a man of his word.

Keep reading

[justsomedrarryshit]

p r e c i o u s

[ethanhes]

[vormirjumper]

cheeky harry

[daviddobrikssflamethrower-deact]

***** 🥴

[vintagedolan]

Gimme us soft e pls queen

this came at the perfect time cause I was just thinking about this haha

you remember that tiktok trend where girls were climbing in their boyfriends laps while they were gaming? ethan would live for that shit. 

It was no secret that his work called for a lot of hours on the computer, and he always preferred to work at his desk - the computer was better, there was more space. and you were usually really good about giving him his space and his time to work. but one particular week he’d just be super busy with edits and emails and the podcast, and it would feel like he was glued to his desk chair. 

and he’d be super apologetic cause he would want to spend time with you but he just had to get one more thing done, and then that would lead to something else, and then he’d be even more stressed about balancing everything and you would hate to see it. so, one night around 11 you’d be getting ready for bed, changing into a pair of ethans old tour sweatpants, but before you took your bralette off you’d get an idea. you’d walk over to him, waiting until he had a pause in his clicking so you didn’t mess him up, and you’d spin his chair a little bit and climb on his lap. His hands would automatically go to your hips to keep you balanced, and you’d get comfy, settling down and nuzzling into his neck so you weren’t blocking his view.

“hi baby girl,” he’d sigh, loving the feeling of having you there with him. “I’m almost done, I swear.”

“take your time, I’m perfectly happy right here,” you’d reassure him, not wanting him to stress about it. and you really would be content there, just sitting in his lap and feeling his warmth. and he’d have his hands on the keyboard and mouse, clicking around but his lips would be on your skin, your shoulder, your collarbone, pressing little baby kisses there to let you know he loved you and appreciated what you were doing. 

and it wouldn’t take long for you to get so comfy that you were drifting off, and the next thing you knew it was dark and the computer monitors were off, and Ethan’s hands were under your thighs and he was carrying you to bed, laying down on his back so that you were on top of him still cause he wouldn’t wanna let you go. and he’d do everything so gently to try to not wake you up, and he’d apologize when you stirred a bit, but really you just wanted kisses and he’d give them to you, on your lips and your forehead and the tip of your nose before you drifted back to sleep in his arms bYE 

[clubdolan]

Texts from bf Gray & Ethan [part 2]

[sentrysvoid]

It’s cruel that I spent so much time with James and Lily, and you so little.

[oryoucouldstay]

Harry Potter + Hogwarts

[vintagedolan]

okay this is kinda more of a question, but if you turned it into a concept I'd love you forever. With that tweet you just reblogged, do you think that the boys would still do stuff like that once they're dating girls (like if they lived with them?) or do you think it would be weird

i’ve always said that I think whoever dates one twin pretty much has to be like brother/sister with the other for the whole dynamic to work because our boys are SO codependent haha (in the best way). That being said, I think their relationship comes first, always. so I think they definitely still would. I can give you a lil concept too cause it’s just too sweet to think about🥺

-----

Ethan had been spared from the aggressiveness of a ‘grayson alarm’ for almost three months now. Ever since you had moved in, Gray had accepted that he would spend the first few hours of his morning alone. It wasn’t too bad, considering you’d actually managed to get Ethan into a somewhat normal sleep schedule. He was used to getting up around 8:45 now - fairly respectable. 

So when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, his immediate reaction was to roll away, towards you, arms wrapping around your warm waist. But the hand is too familiar, even if it is more gentle than normal. So he rolls back over, peeking one eye open, then the other to make sure he’s seeing things right this early in the morning.

Grayson is standing by the bed, one hand in the pocket of his shorts, the other awkwardly hanging at his side. His eyes are a different kind of puffy, and Ethan feels his chest tighten a bit. 

“You okay?” He whispers it, and Grayson just shakes his head back and forth, tears already starting to form again. 

Ethan doesn’t hesitate for a second, but he still climbs out of the bed slowly, trying his hardest to make sure he doesn’t wake you up. He frowns a bit when you stir, so he leans over, pressing a kiss to your hair and rubbing your back for a moment until you settle back down. 

He’s dead on his feet, but it doesn’t matter. He snags a scrap piece of paper off his desk, scribbling a note.

good morning, i love you. out with gray, needed some brother time. be back soon.

And with that he grabs a shirt and pulls it over his head, leaving the note on the sheets before heading out to the kitchen. Grayson’s not saying anything - he’s just following him like a shadow, needing the presence of his brother more than anything else. But he still breathes out a sigh of relief when Ethan grabs the van key off the hook, heading out the door. 

Ethan gave him even more time, just plugging his phone in and playing old Cudi as he drove to the coast, back to one of their more isolated ‘thinking spots’ where you could hear the waves crash and no one would bother them.

It was much nicer to open the back of the van and sit on the cushions - in the earlier days they would just sit on the grass, pretending their asses weren’t numb halfway through the conversation. 

They sat shoulder to shoulder for a while, watching the ocean crash against the rocks. He doesn’t have to say anything - all he does is look at Grayson, checking to see if he’s ready to talk.

“Just... a bad day. I feel like I can’t get it together recently. Like I’m good one day, and the next I’m so far down the hole again that I can’t fucking breathe. Tired of fucking bad days.” He lets it out, the weight of it making his shoulders slump. Ethan just puts an arm around his shoulder, holding him to his side. Doesn’t matter how much he gives him shit for touching him in a video - there was just something grounding about it, and he knew that’s what his brother needed.

“A bad day isn’t a bad life, Gray. I know it can be hard to remember that. Gets overwhelming for me sometimes too. There’ll be good days too. Just gotta fight to get to em.” 

The conversation flowed well after that, talk of everything going on in the world and within their own minds. 

Unbeknownst to them, you were waking up back at the house, pouting a bit when your searching hand found paper instead of skin. As soon as your vision was clear enough to read it, you smiled. It had been a while since the boys had spent some good quality brother time, and you were glad. But the fact that it was only 8am told you that it was probably more serious than just hanging out. 

It wasn’t any of your business, but that didn’t mean you didn’t wanna help if you could. You checked Ethan’s location quickly, smiling when you saw that he was headed back to the house. 

You had to work quickly, but you managed to cut up fresh fruit and finish the vegan french toast just in time, scooping it out onto plates. The familiar hum of the van sounded from the driveway as you made coffee, using the premade settings. A bit of pride ran through you when you sat down Ethan’s cup just as you heard the door open. 

“Woah, it smells good in here.” You heard him from around the corner, and you couldn’t help but smile when they appear, Ethan’s arm slung over Grayson’s shoulder. 

“Morning, I made breakfast.” 

And you weren’t expecting much of a reaction, maybe a thank you. But when Grayson starts to tear up again you panic, looking at Ethan for an explanation. He doesn’t have time to give you one, cause Grayson’s arms are around you, engulfing you to where you can’t see anything but his chest. 

“Thank you. I really didn’t wanna make breakfast,” he’s mumbling, and you’re just squeezing him back, a bit confused. “Group hug E.” 

You feel E come up behind Grayson, his familiar hands wrapping around your waist as he hugs you and his brother. And you know that one of them will explain it all later, but right now you’re just glad they’re okay. 

[ltab-moving]

if you’re white and you act like race issues are just “unnecessary drama” or “discourse” then sorry to tell you but you’re just…. racist

[ltab-moving]

yes white people CAN and probably SHOULD reblog this just dont add on anything.

[littleoblivions]

i’m not a big blog or a small blog i’m just an idiot

[aquakris]

what a douchebag💀

[theaestheticofgray-deactivated2]

swim in the light (gbd)

This has been sitting in my docs for awhile. I don’t really know what this is, it started off as a blurb for a friend and took a turn into some kind of grayson x reader angst(?) pandemic concept. 

word count: 3194k

tags & warnings: angry grayson, pandemic concept, mentions of smut, possibly bad writing

Here we go….

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed across the wooden deck of the porch and into the cool dusk New Jersey air as he paced eagerly back-and-forth. His hands, tingling with frustration and anger, tried hopelessly in vain to close his dark flannel jacket around his strong torso in a bid to shield himself from the crisp night breeze while staring out into distance. Lost in thought, Grayson could feel his heart beating ruthlessly again his chest as he attempted to calm himself down with a few deep breaths; his hand running his fingers through his hair as he exhaled steeply. Walking towards the end of the porch, his eyes strained out into the remote wilderness that surrounded his family’s farmhouse for any sign of familiarity that might come down the long winding driveway. Glancing down at his phone screen, there were no new messages or missed phone calls. It had been close to an hour since he last heard her voice and the words that they had exchanged were mean and so unlike them. In his mind he felt that she had taken things too far and for reasons that he clearly didn’t understand quite yet, he felt justified in his anger and feelings of divide. In a world of his own, he stood silently with only the croaking of the frogs for company while a chilly breeze gently blew through his unusually long dark hair.

“She’s not picking up,” announced Ethan from the warm comfort of the kitchen while peeking through the window at his brother who was steadily pacing the length of the front porch.  “It’s going straight to voice mail and her inbox is full.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have cell service?” questioned their mother Lisa in a tentative tone.  

“Or maybe she’s ignoring him,” whispered Cameron beneath her breath while sitting patiently at the kitchen island, twiddling her fingers as a way of distraction from the night’s unsettling events.

“She wouldn’t do that to us,” defended Ethan while placing his phone down on the kitchen countertop, making sure to keep it screen side facing up just in case she had decided to call or message him back.

“She might do that to Grayson,” retorted Cameron. “Let’s face it, he’s just spent the last couple of hours screaming at her into his phone, she’s ignoring him. I know I would.”

“We don’t know the full story. We need to stay out of it and let them sort it out themselves,” stated Lisa while taking a seat next to Cameron, her motherly tone trying its best to soothe her children. “As difficult as that might be for us to do.”

“Ma, she just tried to take Bailey away from him,” offered Ethan quietly. “We know that for sure and I think anyone would react the same as Gray right now given the situation.”

“Yeah, but she was never going to get very far,” defended Cameron. “All international flights are grounded, there’s government orders for us all to stay at home.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” proposed Lisa, her New Jersey accent becoming more pronounced the tireder she felt.

“I don’t get it,” stated Ethan while leaning against the countertop, his fingers tapping impatiently against the smooth marble. “She’s running between Jersey and New York City. She’s working crazy hours at the hospital. New York’s going under, this whole pandemic is fucking with everyone…even those who seemingly have their shit together. What if this doesn’t end well?”

“E, don’t talk like that!” Warned Cameron, her eyes wide with fear. “There has to be more to this than Y/N just wanting to take Bailey back to London.”

“Yeah, well tell that to Grayson,” retorted Ethan while keeping a watchful eye on his twin brother through the window.

—–

“Mama, are we almost home?” questioned Bailey from her car seat stationed in the back of your black SUV.

“Yes, baby,” you reply softly while your eyes stare out into the distance as you drive along one of the many back roads of Long Valley.

“I’m tired,” yawned Bailey softly, her eyelids dipping heavy while trying to fight off sleep.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” you whisper while reaching a hand back to gently squeeze her little foot in an attempt to comfort her. “Just another ten minutes or so and we’ll be back at Lollie’s”

“Will Gizmo be awake?” asked Bailey optimistically.

“Maybe,” you respond. “And even if she’s happily sleeping, you’ll still be able to see her in the morning.”

“And daddy?”

“Daddy’s awake,” you answer flatly, a feeling of dread washing over you.

It had been well over an hour since you last spoke to your husband. You had both been exasperated, frustrated and bewildered by how much anger had erupted from between you. You had tried unsuccessfully to explain yourself, your feelings of frustrations and your fears to him. Grayson has not wanted to hear any of it. You were trying hard to keep things together emotionally, amid a pandemic that few inside your profession saw coming, you found yourself completely worn-out and near non-emotionally responsive. For the past month you had been walking around trying to sell optimism to anyone who dared ask how things were going and yet inside you felt anything but optimistic. You had spent countless hours driving between New Jersey and New York City, the bottom half of your face clad in a mask almost 24 hours a day. Your hands were rubbed raw from the constant use of hand sanitizer and its strong alcoholic smell had seeped into almost every pore of your body. No matter how many times you washed your hair or scrubbed your body with soap, all you could smell was disinfectant. Living solitary in your mother-in-law’s basement, you could see your husband and child, but you couldn’t touch them. Even with your mask on, you always had to stand at the very least six feet apart. Glancing in the rear-view mirror at Bailey, you marvelled at the fact that it had taken you so long to crack and then you wondered whether that made you a good mother or a bad one. A good wife or a bad one. A dedicated doctor or one that had been stripped of all emotion.

Suddenly, your phone screen lights up with an intense bright light that illuminates the car. Yet another message from Ethan asking you to call him back. But what were you to say? You had always thought highly of Ethan, and you had always gotten along so well. In the very beginning it felt more like you and Ethan were a much more compatible match as you both had a similar sense of humour and a companionship that always seemed to flow organically. It’s funny the way things had turned out and how some people had come into your life with the only purpose of teaching you how to let them go. Ethan was one of those people, but he was the most complicated of those people.

Peeing through the windshield you could see the closed gate of your mother-in-law’s farmhouse in the distance. Dusk had fallen into darkness and you could hear light drops of rain begin to splatter against the windows and roof of the car. Except for your headlights which lit the narrow road with a gentle glow, the road and surrounding world was dark and ominous. The wind was blowing through the trees and even from inside the car you could hear the leaves rustling against one another.

—–

With his back turned against the night air, Grayson finally heard the familiar sound of gravel crunching against tires as the familiar sight of her car slowly made its way down the dimly lit driveway. Rushing towards the front of the house, his eyes adjusted past the headlights to a familiar face sitting in the backseat. His mind devoid of thought, he found himself rushing for the passenger door, pulling it open, and breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his daughter bundled up and asleep in her car seat. Without saying a word, Grayson reached in to unbuckle her seat beat and lift her small body to his.

“Daddy?” whispered a sleepy Bailey.

“Yes, baby. It’s daddy. You’re home,” soothed Grayson while cuddling his child close to his body and placing a tender kiss on her warm forehead. With one arm supporting Bailey under her posterior and the other pressing her close to his muscular chest, Grayson carried her towards the warmth of the house, relieved to have this baby girl back by his side.

Nestling into her father’s neck and shoulder, Bailey had drifted back to sleep by the time Grayson had climbed the fifth stair up towards the laundry room. After tonight’s events, Grayson wasn’t even going to entertain placing Bailey back into Cameron’s bedroom where she had been sleeping while they were quarantining at his mother’s house. Instead, she was going to sleep beside him in the laundry room, where he had moved his bed and belongings to after being kept awake by Ethan’s snoring for three nights straight. Also, the laundry room provided a little more privacy for the times when he felt the desire to send you something risqué like a picture of his thick throbbing cock since you couldn’t physically be together due to the high risk you faced for contracting and spreading the virus via all the hours you had been pulling at the hospital. Grayson found the laundry room to be a much better place to tease you from, along with the bathroom, the shower, his truck, and the farmyard when he was out working alone on some building project.

Dressing her in her pj’s, Grayson placed Bailey beneath the warm covers on his bed and pressed a gentle kiss to her head while moving a lock of her dark hair away from her little face to behind her ear.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you,” he said while flicking off the light switch.

Downstairs in the kitchen he could hear your soothing voice talking to someone but at this point he was in no mood to confront you. At least that’s what his head was telling him, his feet on the other hand were taking him straight to you like a solider ready to go into battle. Walking into the kitchen, he saw you standing at the island countertop, you seemed venerable, but he was too angry to care. You had taken his daughter away from him, threatened to take her back to London during a worldwide disaster, and potentially exposed his only child to a virus that had no cure. He was livid.

“I’m so angry I barely even look at you!” spat Grayson, his hazel eyes wide with rage.  

“Gray, maybe this isn’t the right time to do this,” interjected Ethan in an attempt to try and diffuse the situation before it boiled to the point where things said could not be taken back.

“E, stay the fuck out of this!” yelled Grayson, his face contorted with furious anger.

“You need to calm down,” tired Ethan again in a soft passive tone while stepping towards Grayson. He’d dealt with his twin brother’s anger his whole entire life, he knew when to press Grayson and when to back off. And maybe this time his judgement was off, but what was Grayson going to achieve by verbally tearing to shreds the love of his life and mother of his child.

“E, seriously,” began Grayson. “I need you give me some space and I need you to stay the fuck out of it.”

“Gray, please don’t do or say anything that you can never take back,” responded Ethan before moving into the loungeroom where both his mother and Cameron had nervously gathered.

Using the kitchen island as a buffer between you, both you and Grayson found yourselves staring at each other. Quietly in his mind, Grayson tried to think of the last time he had seen you without your surgical mask either on or loosely tired around your neck. He thought you were pretty, your twinkling eyes staring into his own. Your soft lips pink with warmth and your cheeks flush with a rosy hue. You weren’t his typical choice for a partner which surprised everyone but most of all himself. A young and virile Grayson was attracted to long locks of golden hair and bronzed skin that came out of a fake tanning booth. A bubbly personality that seeped synonymously with a Malibu beach-babe barbie type of girl. But this more mature version of Grayson found himself attracted to something entirely different. You were your own person, the opposite of every woman he’d known in Los Angeles, much less slept with. You’re a little different, you’re educated, experienced, opinionated, somewhat sensible but also a little arrogant. You’re not perfect, you have flaws, but you accept them. You are interesting and that’s where his intrigue began. You’re someone he could bring home to his family with a deep sense of pride, although maybe there was some contention from Ethan and even Cameron. The problem was there was a point where all Grayson could think about was you. Now you stood facing each other in silent warfare although some might say you had both come full circle.

“I don’t know what you want to hear from me right now,” you spoke, breaking the silence.

“How ‘bout an explanation as to what the fuck you just did,” retorted Grayson, not breaking eye contract with you. “I wanna know what the hell is going on.”

“It’s complicated…” you began before an angry Grayson cut you off.

“Complicated is not an explanation!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” you said, your voice trying to stay sounding strong.

“I am so tired of you telling me that I wouldn’t understand,” huffed Grayson, his hands running through his long hair in exasperation. “That’s your go to explanation for everything: Grayson is so stupid; he doesn’t fucking understand anything!”

“I never said you were stupid,” you defended, “I just said that you wouldn’t understand the reasons why I did what I did.”

“This is getting nowhere,” spoke Grayson in a frustrated tone. “We’re just going around in circles. You try and take my kid -”

“Our kid!” you objected.

“Listen! Listen, to me! You took my fucking kid,” retorted Grayson while smashing his fist against the marble of the kitchen countertop. “You took my kid and you threatened to take her back to London…permanently. You’re going to take her and you’re going to leave me here. How fucking dare, you!”

“I’m not going to do this tonight, Grayson.” You spoke. Tired, frustrated, sad, misunderstood and lonely, tonight was not the night to try to even reason with him.

Stepping to the side, you brushed past the island barrier between you, past Grayson and towards the door that led down into the basement.

“Not so fast,” spoke Grayson as he quickly hooked his fingers around your elbow as you strode past him, pulling you back towards his body.

You hadn’t felt his touch in a while and were taken aback at the tingles it created up and down your spine. Close enough to feel his body heat and the faint whistle in his breathing from what was probably an oncoming asthma attack, you dared to turn your head to make eye contact with his dark blazing hazel eyes. The same eyes as your daughter. His shoulders were more masculine than you remembered, and his strong stature seemed to tower over your small frame. Suddenly you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you. What once would have been a private disagreement between you two was now a public disagreement in front of his family. Not a good look for two people who prided themselves on being private in their relationship.

“Can we just pick this back up tomorrow,” you queried. “I just don’t have it in me to do this tonight.”

“No,” snapped Grayson while tightening his grip on your elbow.

“For fuck sake, Grayson!” you yell, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

Quickly pulling your arm away from his tight grip, you push past him while trying to hurry towards a quick exit from the kitchen. Feeling disorientated and with Grayson hot on your trail, you take a wrong turn and instead of heading towards the door that would have led you down into the basement, you find yourself climbing up the stairs towards the second story of the farmhouse.

“You know what,” stated Grayson in a low ominous tone, “I’m done! This is over! We’re over! I want a divorce and I want you outta here!”

“Fine,” you retort in a hurried tone while finding yourself lost and corned on the second story floor. “I couldn’t agree more that we’re done.”

“Get out!” yelled Grayson before hushing his tone as to not wake Bailey.

Feeling corned and wanting to get away from your husband, you hurry towards the drawcord that hung from the attic door, grabbing onto it and pulling it down before climbing the set of steps that led up into the loft. The sound of the rain pelting against the roof and attic window was raucous and you could barely hear yourself think let alone hear what Grayson was saying behind you. The air in the attic was stuffy and the light dim as you bumped your way past the dozens of boxes and old furnishings that littered throughout the loft space, kicking up dust. What are you doing? What are both of you doing? Your thoughts raced a thousand miles a minute. Circling around back towards the attic stairs the faint sound of Ethan’s voice was comforting until it wasn’t.

“Both you guys up there?” questioned Ethan loudly. “Then that’s where you can stay until you sort this shit out!”

“Huh?!” responded Grayson while turning on his heel and hastily making his way back towards the stairs while his feet aggressively pushed the boxes out of his way that dared to try and trip him.

Before either of you could respond with anything else, the unsettling sound of the stairs being closed made both you and Grayson jump in fright. Standing mostly in darkness with only the shallow light of the moon’s beam streaming in from the attic window, you stood in silence.

“Ethan! What the fuck are you doing?” yelled Grayson as the stairs slammed shut, causing dust to circle around and delicately float in the air. “Ethan, do not lock us up in the attic!”

“Eth, this isn’t a very good idea,” stated Cameron while watching Ethan close up the stairs to the attic, effectively locking his brother up there with his wife.

“Relax, Cam,” reassured Ethan quietly. “They can get out. There’s a latch up there on the floor. Grayson’s just too stupid to figure it out.”

“So, how long should we leave them up there?” snickered Cameron changing her tone.

“As long as it takes for them to figure out that they can’t be without each other,” shrugged Ethan. “Or until mom makes us tell Grayson about the latch.”

[nowherenorris]

Ok but we obviously need part 2 😱🥺