Grayson Dolan x Reader Imagines

I Don't Wanna Fight

Warning: cursing

(Y/N)'s POV:

"Grayson, I told you to take the truck to the garage!" I exclaimed, my voice coming out louder than I realized.

"I had other fucking work, (Y/N). I'm sorry I'm not perfect!" Grayson's voice boomed back.

And that's how it had been going for the past five minutes. It was currently two in the morning and Grayson and I were getting ready for bed. That was, until I began craving for a late night snack and that led to us having a little chat in the kitchen.

"I reminded you this morning, but no!" I retorted.

"Well if it's such a fucking problem, why don't you take it out?" my husband responded.

I scoffed. "Gray, that's your damn truck. Take care of it! Not everything is my fucking responsibility."

Even after three years of being married, Grayson and I still had our arguments here and there. It was usually on something stupid, something that could be sorted through simple communication. But sometimes, things would heat up by quite a bit.

The brunet threw his hands up in exasperation. "I've got more important shit to worry about! Unlike you, I actually have my priorities sorted."

"No, you're just acting like an immature brat right now who refuses to take responsibility for his shit." I folded my arms above my chest stiffly.

Grayson ran a frustrated hand through his tousled hair. "Oh my God. Woman, I can't be—!"

"Momma?" a small voice squeaked through Grayson's loud yell. Our heads whipped around to see a drowsy two-year-old standing by the kitchen door way.

"Sweetie," I said, my voice going soft as I realized our argument probably woke our little girl up. She stared up at me in her baby blue onesie with her plush cow clutched to her chest. Olivia rubbed her eye with her tiny fist, her hazel orbs glossy and her button nose dusted pink.

"Pumpkin, what are you doing up?" Grayson asked, his voice feathery.

I scooped her into my arms and heard her sniffle. I caressed her cheek. "Baby, were you crying?" I questioned.

"Momma, daddy, loud. S'Scary," she spoke, hugging her cow closer to her petite body.

My eyes widen slightly and I peck her soft cheek. "Baby, I'm sorry." I cradle her in my arms, rocking her gently.

"Is momma and daddy fighting?" she asked. My heart dropped. I bit the inside of my cheek and Grayson fell silent. Olivia waited for our response.

"No, no," I replied, picking my words carefully. "We were just talking, sweetheart, and we're just very tired. Everything is alright."

"So, momma and daddy friends?" Liv said. I nodded. "Yes, momma and daddy are still friends."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face in my shoulder. I rubbed her back soothingly. "C'mon. Let's get you back to bed," I said, stepping away from Grayson.

Exiting the kitchen, I made my way to Olivia's room. I placed her back in her bed and sat beside her until sleep lured her back into its embrace. I returned to the kitchen to find Grayson gone, so naturally, my feet led me to our room.

And as expected, my husband seemed to be waiting for me by our bed. I walked in and his eyes immediately found mine. I watched him step forward in the dimly lit room as I moved towards him. We were left with mere inches dividing us, and I stared up into his beautiful deep hazel eyes as he loomed over me.

Not a word was spilt between us. Instead, he pulled me into his warm embrace, wrapping his strong arms around my body securely. I rested my head against his toned chest, hearing the rythmic thumping of his heartbeat against my ear.

I hear him whisper, "I'm sorry."

I hug him tighter, and his grip matches mine. "I'm sorry, too," I say softly. I move away lightly to meet his gaze again. "I don't want to fight anymore, Gray."

He rests his cheek atop my head, rubbing my back up and down. "Me, neither, baby girl," he replies. "I'm sorry. I love you so much, (Y/N)."

I take a deep breath, his cologne filling my nostrils. "I love you, Grayson."