Blake Gray Imagines Novels & Stories

“What do you mean by that?” He shrugs one shoulder, picking an invisible piece of lint from his finely tailored suit jacket. He sticks out like a sore thumb anytime he visits Moonrise or Veiled Valley–Eastonia in general, honestly. Wearing only drab grays, blacks, and dark blues. Never white. Blake wouldn’t be caught in a white shirt even if his life depended on it. It’s like his very soul was sucked from his body once, erasing whatever creativity and joy he had, leaving behind a shell of a person. He reminds me of rain, the kind that pours without ceasing, the kind that thunders, knocking the leaves from the trees. The kind that leaks through nail holes in ceilings, leaving scars in its wak

A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in. Damon Blackwood, as in Black Empire Blackwood. The self made billionaire, that's impossi- I quickly slid my hand into his, realising I had left him hanging. Bad first impression Jasmine! You idiot!! I mentally scolded myself, I needed this job. Don't fuck it up! Don't fuck it up! I played those words in my head like a song on repeat. 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 Her skin felt like velvet against mine. I had to resist the urge to take her hands to my lips to kiss them and appreciate her effortless beauty.

He looks very handsome tonight, with his thick black hair pushed back, “Are we going to talk about the fact that Bram was super jealous or are you still pretending this whole situation is normal?” Gray’s tone is light, but the mischievous glint in his eyes when he turns to look at me is anything but. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask with a chuckle. Gray gives me a look that says please, don’t play dumb with me. “You heard me, Blomqvist,” he murmurs. Unrelenting and pushy, it reminds me of someone else, “You don’t even need to know him as much as I do to know what that was. A jealous fit.”

Momo muttered, blood oozing from his mouth. I gazed at Billy and Kate, who slowly crawled out of the layers of blocks. Their eyes were all white, pleading for a way out of their calamity. “Everyone get behind me.” Pastor Timothy commanded. They scrambled, hoping to get themselves next to the high and mighty Pope Timothy. Kate got herself out of the block, her bones making crackling sounds as she lay on the floor. They stepped back, wondering how a child had managed to crawl all the way out despite the layers of concrete weighing them down.

He asked, immediately taking notice to Aaron's hair. Aaron felt pleased, for some strange reason. "Blonde is bold, you know." He tried joking. "You mean black?" Adrian asked. "Blonde is bold," Aaron said. "Black is a rebel, while brown, is... In the gray. Just like yours." "Mine. Right." He ran his hand through his hair. "But I still like blonde hair. I think I might get mine dyed soon." Clearly it was the liquor talking, but Aaron felt the urge to just squeal like some cheerleader who just a thank you letter from her jocky crush.

To the right, a picture of Harou himself; In the middle, a picture of Blake with darker eyes in a deep green and hazel; and to the right, a picture of Damian, or as Harou likes to call him, Keiran. Blake nods in disbelief. "This, can't be real. This is . . . . What is this?"

Liana’s POV It could be my imagination, but Ethan looks a little uncomfortable. Blake, however, is grinning. He has one ankle on his knee. Again, he reminds me of a cat. This time, a cat who has found a couple of mice to play with. Whatever this condition is, it cannot be good for me. “You know, I didn’t take you for someone who would engage in such an archaic tradition, Ethan,” says Blake. “Aye, well, it’ll keep her safe until we can get the Heart of the Moon.”

I sobbed. "Esha I don't think it is him. You can ask him directly. Maybe you misunderstood." Dua tried convincing me. "You better stop it Dua. Shakshi Tanwar has grey eyes. She freaking had grey eyes. And Aadhvik even he have the same grey eyes." I said. "Don't be dumb Esha, there are many people with the same grey eyes. Don't be so stupid." Dua yells. I found his potrait hung on the wall. Looking at his face itself made me feel disgusted. I got up and threw that potrait down.

“It’s fucking crooked. Or just take it down, I don’t care.” Gray’s brows draw together in confusion as he looks over his shoulder at the picture, then back to me. “What? Yeah, I…” he turns at the waist and tips the frame back into position, then faces me again. His eyes are sympathetic as he reaches behind his head to rub the muscles at the base of his neck. “I wish you’d just talk to me, man. I’ve been through this, I understand…” “You’re wrong.” I shake my head, scowling. “Nobody understands.”

“I don’t know. I don’t even think about it. I don’t like to think about unhappy people. It brings me down.” They rounded a small hilltop, and there, in the distance, sat a crumbling stone ruin, about twenty feet high, the remnant of a fortification from the castle, half-submerged in the river. It was separated from the island, out in the river about ten feet. And there, standing on top of it, glaring down at them, stood Blake. He held a spear in one hand and, standing the way he was, his back to the river and the open sky, he looked like he was the last warrior left on earth.