Grievous Quotes

“Patience has never been my strong suit.
I’m not exactly keen on waiting for anything.
Nor am I good at planning, for that matter.
I’m the shoot first, ask questions never type... you know, the kind to toss a grenade in a packed room to solve a personal problem?”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“You see, people don’t really listen anymore, no... they just sit around waiting for everyone else to shut up, waiting until it’s finally their turn to talk. Back and forth, an endless cycle that gets us nowhere, because nobody really gives a shit about what’s being said.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Love is a terrible excuse. It’s dangerous to lose yourself in someone else.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“He’s got a heart in his chest.
I see it when I look him in the eyes. I see the agony he feels. He’s tortured, twisted, all tied up in knots. He’s busy beating himself up inside. But most people don’t see that, because they don’t look at him. They turn away from the surface, terrified, because what he shows the world can be downright fucking scary. But if they just took a second to really see him, they’d know what I know.
They’d believe what I believe.
And what I believe is this man is far from being a monster.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Morgan,” he says, his voice quiet as he whispers my name. My name. “Open your eyes, baby.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“You speak Italian?” I ask.
“Some,” he says, leaning down like he’s going to kiss me, but instead he runs his nose along my jawline. “Why? You want me to talk dirty to you?”
“I, uh...” He’s got me flustered as he grabs my hip, pulling me even closer. I shiver, feeling his warm breath on my skin. It’s like he’s breathing me in. “Well, I didn’t, but I kind of do now.”
He laughs. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll teach you all the dirty words you want.”
I hum, tilting my head as his lips trace along my cheek. “All of them?”
His breath is against my ear as he whispers, “Every single one.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Maybe love made you kiss all messy. Maybe love made you hungry for faces.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“As soon I stop moving, Scarlet lays down on top of me, nuzzling into my neck, her breasts pressing against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, stroking her back, still balls deep inside her pussy.
It’s a strange sensation.
Cuddling.
We’re fucking cuddling.
What the hell happened to my life?”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Do you at least like The Force Awakens?”
He stares at me. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Wait, what? How can you call yourself a fan if you haven’t even seen the new movie?”
“I’ve been a bit busy lately,” he says. “Dealing with you has taken up a lot of my free time.”
“Oh, whatever. That’s bullshit. You had enough free time to put together a gazillion piece puzzle. You’ve got time to watch a movie, and you know it. I’m just... I’m ashamed of you. Legitimately ashamed.”
“I’m guessing it’s good, then?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I shrug. “I haven’t watched it. Been too busy.”
Lorenzo pulls my hand away from his face and laughs.
Genuinely laughs.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I want you gone,” he says. “I want you out of my life. Out of my system. I don’t want to spend another goddamn second thinking about you, wondering about you, worrying about you. I don’t want to look at you, don’t want to see you or smell you or taste you or hear you. I don’t want this. Do you get that? I don’t want any of this. It’s driving me fucking insane. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t think. I hate this, whatever this is... whatever this bullshit is that I’m feeling because of you. Make it go away.”
I just stare at him, because I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know much of anything right now except what I’m feeling, and even that is hard to comprehend.
“You want the fairy tale,” he continues. “You want the happy ending. You want the little boy to be a fucking bird so he can fly away and make everything okay, but I can’t do it. I’ve told you that. It’s not me.”
“I know.”
“So why the fuck are you here?”
“Because I love you anyway.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“You think something’s wrong?”
“I know something’s wrong,” I say. “Were you aware Five here hasn’t watched Star Wars?”
“What?”
“Seriously, I can’t wrap my head around it, so I’m going to need a few minutes.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Lorenzo saved my ass. Again.
“I got you,” Lorenzo says. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you believe it?”
“Probably a few more times.”
“And I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” he says, scolding me. “I even asked nicely.”
“Yeah, well, the trouble with trouble is that it doesn’t always look like trouble, Lorenzo.”
“This was very obviously trouble, woman.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“What do you want, Morgan?” he asks after a moment, his voice low. “Just... tell me what you want from me. I can’t stand here and do this with you.”
“You named me,” I say. That’s not the first time I’ve heard him call me by my real name. Morgan. “You only name what you keep, remember?”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I love this dangerous, menacing asshole.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Whenever I close my eyes, I see her. Scarlet. I see her smiling. I see her crying. I hear her laughter flowing through me, sending chills down my spine. The sound of her moaning creeps through my bloodstream, the face she makes in the throes of passion the pulse that spurs it on. Whatever this is I’m feeling, I want it to stop. I want it to go away. I want to stop fucking seeing her every time I blink. I want to stop fucking thinking about her every time I pause to take a deep breath. She’s like an infection that’s settling into my chest. I would rip out my own organs if I thought it might purge her from my system.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I grasp her cheeks, framing her face with my hands, and stare her straight in the eyes, dead serious, as I say, “If you’re going to start crying, I need you to not do it while you’re sitting on my lap.”
She lets out a light laugh, grabbing my wrists, pulling my hands away from her face, forcing my arms around her.
“I’m not going to cry,” she says, fumbling between us, undoing my pants. “I’m going to show you my appreciation instead.”
“You don’t have to give pussy to show gratitude,” I tell her. “A simple ‘thanks’ will suffice.”
“I know,” she whispers. “Thank you. But I want to give you pussy to show you I’m grateful, because the way I feel when you’re inside of me? There’s nothing else like it. You make me feel alive.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“My wicked little belladonna, beautiful, deadly, so tempting to keep tasting but so goddamn toxic every touch is just too much.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“To Jar Jar Binks. I’m sorry everyone in the universe seems to hate you.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“He cups my chin, thumb grazing the corner of my mouth, tracing my lips as they slide along his cock. “Vedere il mio cazzo tra quelle belle labbra è una fantasia che mi ha perseguitato dal momento in cui ci siamo incontrati.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
Her eyes open, and she looks down at me, leaning closer, her voice shaky as she says, “It’s been so long since somebody said that and I actually felt it.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“For the first time in a long time, I feel this strange twinge inside of me. It’s hard to describe. It’s a tightening in my chest. It’s a tingling in my fingertips. It feels as if my lungs are trembling, like the weak punk bitches are trying to stop functioning. The woman has got me all fucked up here, flipped upside down and inside out.
It’s like the striking of a match.
All it needs is that spark.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I raise my hands, still clutching the grenade. They could try to take it from me, try to disarm me... hell, they could even go ahead and shoot me in the face... but they’d have four seconds to save themselves before we all got blown to pieces.
They take a few steps back, but nobody lowers their weapons, like guns are going to help them in this situation. Rock, paper, scissors, motherfuckers... you better take your pick and hope like hell you win.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I look at him, not because he just told me to, but because of the word he used. Baby. It does the kind of thing to my chest that makes me feel uncomfortable—the squeezing, tightening, pitter-pattering bullshit. Ugh, knock it off, heart. You’ve got no business reacting to him.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“You’re an asshole,” she grumbles, lying down beside me, close enough to touch but we’re not touching. She feels miles away right now, coldness settling in that space between us.
“Yeah, well, at least you know...”
“Yeah, and it’s a pity, really, because I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.”
She says nothing else.
I don’t say anything, either.
We lay there in silence.
For once, I don’t prefer it.
I want her to say something else, anything else, just to erase those words now assaulting my mind.
I found myself starting to give a fuck about you.
I don’t like it, not at all, because as she says those words, I come to realize, in the moment, that feeling might be mutual.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Lorenzo Gambini, I presume? Or would you prefer to be called—”
“Sir,” I cut in before he can say Scar. “You can call me sir, if it gives you the tingles. Otherwise, let’s just stick with Gambini.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“The woman’s touch is witchcraft. It’s a sin to give in, but seeing as sinning is my specialty, I let her dark magic consume me, because what do I have to lose?”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Go to your happy place. Go to the house, the one with the red door and the white picket fence. Go back to where nighttime meant kisses and hugs, bedtime stories and cuddles with Buster. Go to where sunrises were promises instead of just false hope. Go to where love still lives.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“There’s something about you, Lorenzo,” I say, shaking my head as I look away, unconsciously returning his smile. “Sometimes I think you might just be human.”
“You’re making shit weird again, Scarlet.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“I’m thinking life is going on without Scarlet, the world is still turning, and that’s going to hurt the fuck out of her. You see, that’s the thing about grief... it feels all-consuming. It makes it feel like time stops, because for you, it does. Life as you know it ceases to exist, but for everyone else, it just keeps going on. And sometimes, you know, if it stops for too long, there’s not much chance of you ever catching up.

Because by the time your world moves again, everyone else is already too far gone.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous

“Maybe this was love, the little girl thought. Maybe love made you kiss all messy. Maybe love made you hungry for faces. Maybe he loved her mother, and maybe her mother loved him back. Maybe they loved each other like the little girl loved Buster.”
― J.M. Darhower, Grievous