Grayson Dolan x Reader Imagines

Roughed Up

Normal POV:

Your stomach churned uncomfortably as you shifted from one foot to the other. Your palms glistened with sweat, causing you to wipe them on your jeans every now and then.

The reason for your nerves? Your boyfriend's big match.

Grayson had been boxing for several years now, having held the title of the best underground boxing champion since he was sixteen. But these fights, although he won, they never failed to leave him busted up. Badly.

As his girlfriend, you have faith in him and trust that he knows how to win a fight. But that still never changes the constant anxiety and worry that takes over you before his matches.

Right now, you are standing in the dressing room, waiting for Grayson to finish properly getting ready before his big fight. This match in particular has been one that's been highly anticipated. Especially by his fans.

You felt a pair of strong arms slither around you from behind, making a smile creep onto your face. "Hi, Gray."

Your boyfriend nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a kiss there. "Hello, baby."

You turned yourself around in his arms. "You ready, big guy?" you asked, your fingers fixing up his unkempt hair.

"Born ready," replied Grayson, colliding his fists together. You forced a smile, masking your growing worry. You cupped his chiseled jaw in your hand, lifting yourself on your tip-toes to give him a sweet kiss.

"That was for good luck," you stated when you broke away. The tall brunet grinned at you. "Go knock 'em out."

*****

You nervously bit on your finger nails as you watched your boyfriend recieve another swift punch to the stomach. Your stomach twisted and you felt sick. Thirty minutes into the second round and Grayson already looked like death.

His lip was busted open, his left eye was black and blue and had swelled up to quite a bit, the corner of his eye was bleeding, and he looked broken in general. Through all the years you watched him in the ring, you had never ever seen him get beat up this badly before.

You wanted to call time out, maybe even call it quits this one time. Ethan even tried to talk Grayson out of going into the next round. But he just wouldn't listen. He had completely blocked out all your warnings and went into the next round anyway, and the fans were loving it.

Grayson's opponent tonight—a hefty man with bulky arms and a powerful punch—hadn't shown even a smidge of mercry thoughout the whole fight. Any oppertunity he got, he took.

On a different occasion, you would have admired that quality. But not when he's literally beating your man to dust. Grayson took another hit, this time landing on his abdomen.

He staggered back a bit but quickly regained his stance. He swung at the other man, but his opponent dodged it, instead landing a swift punch to Grayson's side. He groaned aloud in pain as the man's fist made contact with his ribs.

Clutching his side, Grayson wobbled back to his feet. He was just trying to dodge hits by this point, something quite out of character for him. On his usual nights he would go savage mode and have his opponent on their backs before the end of the first round.

But this was no regular night. This time, Grayson had really met his match. Someone just as quick, as agile, as powerful as him. He was experiencing what it felt like to be in the place of one of his many victims. And he was not liking it one bit.

Grayson tried to swiftly move around the mat, bouncing on his heels. But despite his attempts at preventing it, his opponent's fist flew at him before he could escape it. It landed hard against the side of his head, his face whipping to the side by the force of the impact.

A scream ripped through your throat when his body hit the ground. "Grayson!"

His body layed there, as limp as a dead man's corpse. The crowd roared at the sight of their fallen king. And salty tears began to roll down your cheeks. "Grayson, get up!" you urged him along with the encouraging yells of the crowd.

"Get up, baby. Grayson, get up!"

His eyes snapped open and he sucked in a snarp breath. Supporting his weight on his arm, he pushed himself off the canvas, stumbling back onto his feet again. His breaths were ragged and he looked terrible, but the fans went beserk.

He put his hand in front of him, motioning his opponent to come at him, silently taunting him. The other man pounced at Grayson, trying to land as many punches as he could. But Grayson was quick on his feet this time, having analyzed the man now.

He stepped back, missing a very close call, before hopping forward and landing a right hook at the man. It made contact with his face so hard even you could almost feel it. And just like that, the man fell to the ground. His minutes ticked by, and he was out.

Grayson had won again. And you could not be more proud. As soon as your man tumbled out of the ring, you sprinted into his arms, nearly taking him down with you. "Woah–ouch. Easy there," your boyfriend groaned, clutching his side.

"Right, sorry," you said, hugging him more gently. The crowd of cheering fans howled at Grayson's new victory, yet another one added to the streak. Ethan came over and congratulated his brother. He patted his back which, in doing so, earned him another groan from the wounded boy.

"Alright, big guy. We're taking you to the hospital right now," you declared as Ethan supported him by his shoulder.

"No, no. I don't need the hospital," Grayson protested. "I'll be fine, trust me."

You stood right in front of him, narrowing your eyes up at your stubborn boyfriend. "Grayson Bailey Dolan. You are going to the hospital or so help me, no sex for a week."

At your words, his eyes widened to the size of his fists. Ethan snorted next to him. "Damn. You heard the woman. Get this man to a hospital!"

After that, Grayson spent the next couple of weeks getting better, which also meant he couldn't have his fun nights with you. But right after he had completely healed, he took his sweet time showing you just how much he loved you.