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littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 months ago

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title: sometimes all you need is a beach walk

pairing: avery grambs x jameson hawthorne

synopsis: avery is getting herself overwhelmed with her workload but jameson knows exactly how to help

warnings:

a/n: this is for the goddess that is avery kylie grambs, happy birthday <33

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @notshortbutsweet @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

I sighed, my head thumping. It had actually been pounding for three hours and despite the two aspirin and three empty glasses of water nothing had helped or even remotely soothed it. But I needed to get my work done, I was too determined not to. I scribbled down notes feverishly, my hand cramping more with each stupid letter.

“What is something no one wants, but no one wants to lose.”

The voice made me jump before I realised who it was. I relaxed my hand for moment, secretly thankful for the untimely interruption, as I registered the words that had been said. It was a riddle.

“Come out Hawthorne,” I called with a smile, lifting up my head and looking around to see where he might be hiding. I knew all the passageways and trapdoors that lead to this room, though they all seemed untampered with. I furrowed my brows in confusion trying to work it out. Where was his voice coming from?

“Not until you give the answer, heiress,” he replied, I could practically hear the smile coating his tone.

I sighed, “a lawsuit.”

Jameson reluctantly emerged from the wall opposite my desk. I contained the surprise from bleeding out into my features, giving me away. I hadn’t known there’d been a passage there. He sauntered forwards, hands in his pockets, so laid back he was nearly horizontal.

“New secret passageway?” I raised a questioning eyebrow.

He nodded, “discovered it this morning and wanted to scare you with it.”

“It didn’t work,” I said coolly.

“Oh really?” he muses, “because I distinctly remember seeing you jump out of your skins just now, heiress.”

“I was trying to entertain your poor attempt to scare me is all,” I replied with a shrug.

“Oh is that it?” he grinned.

“Mhmm,” I hummed in response before standing up and walking over to him, “you were going easy on me.”

“I wasn’t,” he shook his head.

“Oh then you should probably think of a harder riddle next time,” I teased.

“Feeling cocky?” he asked tipping his head to the side.

“Don’t panic no one could ever get as cocky as you,” I winked, “in case you were worried.”

“Well you’ve put my mind at ease,” he flashed a grin, kissing me on the cheek.

My face flushed a deep scarlet. I didn’t know how he still managed to make me blush like this. He just did. His grin widened when he noticed the colour tint to my cheeks and he kissed me again, causing me to turn an even deeper shade of red.

“I’ve been told I have that kind of effect on people,” I replied, looking up at him doe-eyed.

He stared at me, like he was taking in every intricacy of my face, drinking in every detail. It was as if nothing else around me existed in that moment, like I was the only thing that was worth looking at. It made my heart swell to nearly triple its size within a matter of seconds.

“You look exhausted,” he finally said after a long pause.

My face fell flat.

“Thanks,” I quipped sarcastically

“No seriously Ave,” he murmured cupping my face in his hands, “you look tired, how long have you been at this?”

His eyed a paper, dropped his hands and began running his finger down the contents, silently analysing my task.

“Only a little while,” I replied with a soft shrug.

“How long is a little while?” he asked.

I hesitated, “not that long.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he almost laughed, brushing loose hairs from my face and tucking them behind my ears.

“Damn you Jamie,” I murmured.

“It’s not my fault you’re so easy to read,” he shrugged.

I sighed sitting back down in the office chair, my back aching to remind me that I should really talk a walk around rather than to more work, “I need to do this.”

“You need to take a break,” he countered, taking my pen from my hand.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed another, “I’m fine.”

“You’re tense,” Jameson replied simply.

“I’m not tense,” I snapped, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow, proving his point, much to my annoyance, “don’t be stubborn heiress, you and I both know you need a rest.”

“I took a break half an hour ago,” I lied through my teeth.

He let it slide this time, “take another.”

“If I take breaks every half hour I’ll never get anything done,” I exhaled, scanning over my next paper.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself Avery,” he said gently, “come on, let’s go somewhere, anywhere you want, you name it and I’ll take you.”

I looked up at him blankly, “this office.”

He sighed.

“I have work to do,” I replied, “I’m sorry,”

“Work can wait,” he protested.

“This work can’t,” I raised my voice a little, standing up.

“I’ll hire a whole team of people to do it for you,” he said, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“I need to do it Jameson,” I replied sharply, giving him a stubborn look that he couldn’t ignore.

He brushed last me softly and picked up a few papers, turning them over and scanning the information. He surveyed nearly everything on the desk. Taking a step back, I realised what a mess it all was.

“I can’t believe Alisa let you take all of this,” he muttered, “Avery this is days worth of work, hell maybe even a weeks worth.”

“She doesn’t know,” I said quietly.

“No wonder,” he murmured, “she would have you murdered if she knew you were attempting all of this.”

“It’s not that much,” I reasoned, “…I have responsibilities Jameson.”

“And one of those responsibilities is your health,” he told me, a firm expression on his face, “so you’re going to leave this all now and come with me for a bit.”

I shook my head vigorously, “I can’t-“

“Oh no I’m not taking no for an answer,” he smirked, “and we all know how stubborn I can be.”

“Not as stubborn as me,” I stuck my tongue out, arms firmly folded across my chest.

He flashed a grin of mischief, “we’ll see heiress, we’ll see.”

I felt his arm wrap around my waist, making my stomach flutter. His other arm swept my feet off of the floor and I lost all sense of balance. Fear seizes my heart for a fraction of a second and adrenaline courses through my veins. My arms instinctively clasped around Jameson’s neck.

“What are you doing?” I yelled, my heart still thumping.

“Carrying you away,” he replied bluntly.

“Put me down,” I grumbled, kicking my feet. A fruitless attempt at breaking free.

“No can do, heiress,” he grinned with a wink.

“Jameson I’m serious, I actually have to-“

“If you say the word work one more time I will tickle you,” he said, pressing his forehead onto mine.

“You wouldn’t,” I whispered biting back a smile.

“Oh I’m dead serious,” he replied darkly.

I glared at him playfully, “I hate you.”

“Nu-uh you love me,” Jameson shook his head, “you said so yourself.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “when?”

“Just this morning,” he said, a smug sort of look in his emerald eyes.

“I must’ve been delirious,” I joked.

He beamed, before putting me down gently. Secretly I wished he hadn’t, I liked being in his arms. It made me feel protected. But I didn’t say anything. He swiftly handed me a pair of shoes and I stared down at them.

“We’re going on a walk,” Jameson declared.

“A walk?” I questioned.

“A walk,” he confirmed, with a lopsided smile.

“Come on Jameson I’m not playing games,” I rolled my eyes.

He shrugged, “well I am.”

“Please,” I begged, “I actually have things to do.”

He pushed the shoes further into my hands, “walk.”

I groaned reluctantly pulling them on, scowling at him the whole time. He only chuckled at my annoyance and aggravation so I purposefully tied the laces as slowly as possible.

“Come on,” Jameson said, when he noticed, “or I’ll carry you again.”

I shot him a look as I stepped outside. Fresh air hit my lungs. I’d forgotten how much I loved the taste. I drank in all I could then exhaled. I wanted a clear head. Sometimes I didn’t realise how busy my mind is until I forced it to relax. I hated to admit it but I really needed this.

Slowly, we began to walk down the pathway. Jameson interlocked his hand with mine, his fingers fitting perfectly as always. There was something about holding his hand that automatically comforted me. I couldn’t explain it. It was as if some sort of wave had washed away all that was bad, all that scared me. Besides his hands were always warm, mine were always freezing.

We walked in complete silence and it was pure bliss. The silence was everything I needed, this peace, this break, this moment of nothingness. My mind was finally free to just be. I didn’t have the pressure of thinking or feeling or doing.

He knew me too well.

Better than I knew myself. Before I knew it we found ourselves at the beach. Well, I found myself at the beach, Jameson had probably lead us here. In my absence of thought, I’d almost blanked the entire scenery on the way there, so I’d only realised we’d reached the beach when it smelt like the sea. I glanced at Jameson smiling, he knew how much I adored the beach.

“Want to go onto the beach?” he asked.

“Is that even a question?” I scoffed, barely containing my excitement.

“Just checking,” he winked

Despite the night coming in swiftly and the grey clouds tumbling over each other in the solemn sky, it felt so perfect. I broke off into a sprint towards the sea, running straight into it after discarding my shoes and socks. The water is piercingly freezing, so much so I hopped back a little. I crashed into Jameson who I hadn’t realised had followed me into the sea.

The ocean’s salty spray jumped up and licked my cheeks. My face broke out into an infectious smile that Jameson caught. He put his hands on my waist, lifted me off of the floor and spun me around as if I were in some sort of romance movie.

“I love you, heiress,” Jameson smiled as he put me down.

“Not as much as I love you,” I replied, tapping the tip of his nose with my finger.

I tipped my head back and laughed, stumbling into him after losing my footing. He caught me, as he always does. Then Jameson leant down and slowly kissed my lips. The motion was so long and drawn out I could’ve sworn it last eternity and three seconds all at the same time. He gently took my rosy face into his warm hands, kissing my icy lips again. The feeling was addictive, I craved more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened our kiss.

I’d never wanted something so badly in my entire life. He’d become my only desire. His lips were soft and silky, warm on mine. He tasted indescribably good. We broke away for breath, two beaming idiots.

I placed two tentative hands on his chest and stared at him, my eyes all wide and sparkling. Then I pushed him sharply, my tender expression replaced with the mischievous grin he taught me to use. Before he can comprehend what I’ve done he had already hit the water with a splash.

“You’re so dead, heiress,” he warned, standing up, prepared to go into a water war.

“Not if you can’t catch me,” I stuck my tongue out, taking off down the beach.

“You’re on!” Jameson yelled, beginning to chase me.

I laughed freely, adrenaline pumping through my body. I ran, the wind whistling through my ears and blowing through my hair. My chest grew more painful with every laboured breath and heartbeat but I didn’t stop running. I felt a pair of familiar arms grab my waist and yank me off of the floor.

“Ahhhh Jamie!” I screamed as he flipped me over his shoulder.

“I think I got you,” he said, I could imagine a smirk playing on his features.

“Put me down!” I yelled, pounding my fists on his back.

“Okay then,” he grinned, dropping me into the water.

I landed with a splash and the salty sea soaked through my clothes.

“Hey! That is not what I meant,” I grinned, standing back up arms folded.

“You said ‘put me down’ and I did just that,” he laughed.

I rolled my eyes playfully, “okay then smartass.”

He took my hand and led me back onto the sand. Jameson sat down and pulled me down gently between his legs. I rested back into his chest. My teeth chattered and arms shook as the cold air whipped around our sopping bodies. Pushing Jameson into the sea may not have been the smartest idea, though I thought it was worth it.

“Here,” he said, shedding his jumper.

“Put that back on,” I scolded, “you’re going to get pneumonia.”

“Been there, done that,” he shrugged.

“And you don’t want to do it again, put your jumper on,” I exhaled.

“You sound like Oren,” Jameson chuckled.

“I don’t care,” I snapped, “I don’t want you to freeze.”

“Come on Avery, just take it,” he said, “you know you’re cold, I know you’re cold, so let’s just be smart about this here.”

I sighed, taking it from him, “fine but if you get some sort of illness tomorrow I’m blaming myself and you can’t tell me not to.”

“Deal,” he shrugged.

I slowly slipped the jumper on before he wrapped his arms right around me tightly. I felt safe. I could smell the sweet scent of his cologne. The one that was practically a drug to me now. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, his soft skin against mine.

I leant back and our eyes locked. He looked a little hesitant before the word left his lips, “tahiti,” he whispered.

One word. Our word. It sent a shiver down my spine. A mixture of relief and fear hit my stomach. I was waiting for him to say it. I’d had my explanation prepared but now I struggled to explain what was going on inside of my head. I blinked a few times and tried to form the right words.

“I’m stressed, like really stressed and overwhelmed with everything I have to do,” I just blurted out, “I can’t cope, there’s too much to do with too little time to do it in.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, “it’s okay.”

“It doesn’t feel okay,” I said, feeling an uncomfortable lump begin to grow in my throat, “nothing about this feels remotely close to okay.”

“Tell me something, heiress,” he replied gently, “the work you’re doing, is it necessary?”

“Of course it’s-“

“Not necessary to you per se,” he clarified, “I mean, is it work you’ve given yourself?”

I remained silent, answering with no words. I liked to feel on top of things, in control. If I gave myself extra little things to do to fill the time it would benefit me in the future, at least that was my philosophy.

“I’ve seen your to do lists,” he said quietly, “you work to hard, give yourself too much to do and you don’t know when to take a break.”

“I just don’t want to fail at this,” I replied, with a shaky voice, “I want to be three steps ahead not eight steps behind.”

“You have never been eight behind Avery Kylie Grambs, not since the moment I met you,” Jameson comforted me, “and you will never be eight steps behind, in all of your life.”

My cheeks flush and it’s not from the icy breeze.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he said thoughtfully, “because you’re a phenomenon. I just wish you would stop worrying so much.”

His words bled straight into my heart, building up in the collection of all the wonderful things he’s ever said to me. It was a wonder I still had space, it surely would’ve burst by now. I felt myself get a little emotional at his words.

“Me too,” I grumbled, “I feel so stupid when I worry.”

“No, not because your worry is stupid,” he said quickly, “your feelings are very valid, but just because I hate to see you so upset.”

“I’ll try to worry less,” I told him.

“Easier said than done,” Jameson pointed out.

“Unfortunately,” I sighed.

“You know you can ask for help?” he asked, “if you do want to get your impossible list finished I’m here, Grayson’s there, Alisa’s there, hell anyone you ask would be there.”

“I don’t want to ask anyone for help,” I shook my head stubbornly, “I don’t need help.”

“Everyone needs help sometimes,” he broke to me gently.

“Not with paperwork,” I replied, “that’s stupid to ask help for.”

“No it’s not,” he shrugged.

“It’s practically admitting failure,” I said, playing with the hem of his jumper rather than meeting his eye.

“Nu-uh that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, tipping my chin upwards so I’d be forced to look at him.

I didn’t pull away, “how so?”

“Admitting to need help isn’t failing,” he explained.

“It feels like it,” I told him, “I mean I have to physically go up to someone and admit I can’t do it by myself.”

“And why isn’t that perfectly fine?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

I paused, “I don’t know…”

“You’re not built to know everything,” Jameson said, “if you were, you’d be like one of Xand’s creepy robot inventions and no offence but I’d rather not be dating one of those.”

I laughed, then sighed, “you’re right.”

“I know,“ he shot me a lopsided smile.

I rolled my eyes playfully, “alright don’t get too in your own head.”

“But my ego hasn’t swelled up to twice its size yet,” he pouted, green eyes twinkling.

“Suppose that’ll have to be a job for tomorrow,” I joked back.

“Yeah I’ll embarrass Gray and it should do the trick,” he winked.

“Don’t be mean,” I teased.

“I’m not,” he exclaimed, “I’m helping my ego flourish.”

“You and I both know that that does not need to happen,” I replied.

“How about we make a deal,” he said, suddenly changing the subject, looking a little too serious that I was used to from Jameson.

“What’s the deal?” I asked.

“Me and you have to promise each other that for at least an hour a day we plan an activity that takes our mind off of work and stress and life that we can do together,” he proposed.

“Okay,” I agreed, “yeah, I like that.”

“It can be as simple as taking a walk or as wild as skydiving,” Jameson said.

“We should do that again,” I smiled, remembering our last skydiving escapade for Jameson’s birthday. The photo was pinned to a board in our bedroom, it was one of my favourites.

“I second that, heiress,” he replied.

He kissed my cheek gently and it tickled a little. I giggled as his velvety lips touch my skin.

“I’ve got you no matter what, don’t you forget that,” he whispered in my ear.

I blushed, a flutter coursing through my body.

“I love you Jamie.”

“I love you more Avery.”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY QUEEN AVERY!! I LOVE THIS GIRL SO SO SO SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND!! SHE HAS CHANGED MY LIFE 💖💖 AND SHE IS AN ICON, AN IDOL AND I WANT TO BE HER SO BAD!! I MEAN LETS JUST TAKE THIS MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THE CHARACTER THAT SHE IS AND ALL SHE WENT THROUGH!! SO TO THE COOLEST GIRL IN FICTION HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYYYY

and I know what you’re thinking ‘bEllA tHIs FiC HaS NOtHinG tO dO WiTh AVeRy’S bIrThDAy’

I know 😔😔 but I’m literally so bad at writing holiday/occasion themed fics. I tried to write a birthday fic for avery and it literally flopped so badly sooooo you got this instead

hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading 🤍🤍

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piastappies · 1 year ago

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hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which… resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

#jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x avery grambs #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the hawthorne brothers #the final gambit #the grandest game #jameson hawthorne fic #niki’s works 🫂#request 🗣️#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #averyjameson #a very risky gamble #averygrayson

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no1bookgirl · 1 month ago

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Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Synopsis: Every year, since Tobais Hawthorne discovered Nash’s fondness for turkeys, Hawthorne House has set up a pen full of turkeys somewhere outside of Hawthorne House. In 2024, 27 years after the first turkey pen had been set up, a certain Hawthorne *cough* Xander *cough* forgot to lock the pen correctly. The turkeys put their brains together and hobbled out of the pen, now having free reign of Hawthorne House, tormenting its occupants with a haunting gobble.

POV: 2nd from you as Grayson’s gf!!

Pairings: Grayson x Reader, Avery x Jameson, Libby x Nash, and Xander x Max!

wc: 9.8k

a/n: Thanksgiving fic!! one of my first actual character x reader things. I was going to do a halloween themed one cause halloween would be crazy at hawthorne house, but thanksgiving was much more festive! (this might also be a day or two after thanksgiving 🙄🙄) Warning!! one y/n usage that I really tried to avoid… I hate having to write y/n it’s so icky to me ☹️ MINOR GAMES UNTOLD SPOILERS!!!

Now, I present: Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024

When you are the girlfriend of Grayson Hawthorne, former heir apparent of philanthropist Tobias Hawthorne, you were bound to have that big, fancy Thanksgiving that you felt you could never get used to. You were also bound to getting caught in the antics of his brothers. And their girlfriends.

Yeah, Hawthorne Thanksgiving was good, lavish, luxury, chaotic especially, but you couldn’t help but remember your fondness for your grandmother’s mashed potatoes. Or your mom’s turkey. Those quiet, comfortable, small Thanksgivings. The ones where you’d actually have time to go around the table and share something you’re grateful for.

Trying to take your mind off of your need for your grandma, for your mom, just for your family again, you walk down the art gallery, staring at the walls of endless works. Your eyes fall upon one exhibit, a large amount of turkey-hand paintings ordered by year. There were four rows of them, each containing around eight paintings. The top row was Nash’s, the hand feathers becoming more defined as the years grew on. It was cute to think of the Hawthorne brothers squishing their hands in paint, pressing it against paper, and decorating it was silly items like top hats and monocles, a cowboy hat and a lasso, or sun glasses and a glass of wine.

You’d done the same project when you were a child, running home from the bus stop, paper fluttering in the wind, slamming the door open and proudly displaying your artwork on the fridge. Gentle hands would rub your back, cheek kisses were also common, soft words would encourage your art.

Before actually meeting the brothers, you never would’ve been able to imagine them doing that from what you had seen. It would feel too forced, like they just didn’t fit into that picture of childishness. But maybe that was one of their plans all along, Grayson’s plan. He needed to be that mature business man, always trying to keep himself steady, others steady too, including you until you saw through that facade, breaking him open to see who he really could be.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Grayson’s voice came from behind you, the now audible clicking of his shoes becoming louder.

“Yeah,” you laughed. Turning around, you found one of those rare Grayson smiles plastered on his face, warming her heart. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe the fun memories of the turkey hands.

He looked down, like he was nervous, but you could still see the hint of the smile. “It’s you,” he said as if reading your mind, “that’s making me smile like this. Even after being together for three years, it’s still so foreign.”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to your smile.” You took a few steps closer to him, closing the gap as you wrapped your arms around him. “Gray?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to know something I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving season?” you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He cocked his head. “Friends?”

“Close…”

“Family?”

“Closer…”

He chewed on his lip, in actual thought. “I give up,” he said, mock defeat in his voice.

“This Thanksgiving season, I’m grateful for…” you paused for dramatic effect, your mouth staying in a wide open-mouthed smile. “You.”

Grayson’s brows shot up, even though you had told him this millions of times before. “Really?” he asked, his arms finally wrapping loosely around your torso.

“Forever,” you sing, rocking you and Grayson back and forth, “and ever and ever and ever.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, taking in each other in the silence, wrapped up all nice and cozy compared to the outdoors. But everything with Grayson was warm. Swimming was warm because of summer. Grayson was warm because he was your sun, the thing that brought that smile to your face, the sun that faded down into a calmer, more comforting figure as the day dragged on. Grayson was the warm person you would wake up to in the morning, pressing yourself against his chest or his hair or wherever you happen to be.

Grayson leaned down into your ear, his breath warm, heating you up even more. “They’re setting the turkey pen up soon,” he commented. “Do you think it would be fun to watch?”

“Grayson,” you cock your head at him, “we do this every year: You come up to me, butter me up and all that jazz, then ask if I want to watch them build the pen, which we end up doing no matter what I say.”

He chuckled at you, at all the other turkey pen watching times you’d been together. Reaching around his back, he grabbed on of your hands, giving it a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

You gave one of those small, flustered smiles even if he had done this so many times before. “Why, yes, prince charming.”

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The pen was always a grand thing, more than enough room for the turkeys. There were about seven or eight turkeys in there, not at all knowing they would get slaughtered in only a matter of days at the hands of the greedy, and hungry, Xan- Hawthornes.

“I feel bad for them,” you said, letting your head rest against Grayson’s shoulder as a frown deepened on your face.

Grayson’s head cocked gently. “Why is that?”

“Because they don’t know they’re going to be eaten,” you began, even more empathy creeping in now that you actually expressed your sadness. “They just think they’re getting out in a new fancy home.”

“Well, all things have to come to an end at some point, and sometimes that end might not be when you’d expect or want,” said Grayson, his voice soft and steady, keeping you down.

You nodded absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the helpless turkeys. “I guess you’re right. But when are you not?” you murmured, hopeful that he didn’t hear the last part. But by the small smirk that he somehow couldn’t suppress, you could tell he did hear it.

“Who’s all coming for Thanksgiving this year? It’s approaching faster than I’d like.”

“There’s a few new people coming this year,” Grayson said, a half sigh in his voice. “I know Gigi and Katrina will be joining us this year.”

Your heart dropped at the mention of that cat. Lord did it scare you. Not that you were scared of cats, but the way the leopard sized cat would stare at you from Gigi’s arms, it’s pupils shrinking as it looked like it was planning you to be her next meal. Grayson always made sure to keep a safe distance between you and Katrina whenever Gigi decided it was her turn to barge into your room. Whether it be holding Katrina or letting her sleep on him, he’d separate you two.

“That damn cat,” you breathed out.

“Knox may also be here this year, maybe not. Lyra’s having Thanksgiving with her family. All the rest of the normal people will be there: Avery, obviously, Jameson, Libby, Nash, then on,” he said.

You blew out a long breath, wishing you could see it in the air. If it wasn’t cold enough to see your breath, it wasn’t Thanksgiving yet. And Texas had a long way to go. 70° F was no where near what homes temperature would be around this time of month. Now, coats would start to be pulled out of the basement. A sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm. Hats wouldn’t be out for a while. It always seemed that something, just one thing, was just off enough for this place to not feel like home.

Even if you came here almost every break you got in school since you met Grayson three years ago, it still never felt right. Too hot. Too stuffy. Too many people. They didn’t know what you meant when you called certain things differently. You’re offered sweet tea instead of lemonade on those hot summer days. It was never enough. And you felt bad. Grayson always tried to make you feel at home here, safe, secure. You tried to make yourself seem happy, but Grayson could see right through it.

A whirring sound came from somewhere around the corner. Grayson’s arm instinctively went to wrap around you, holding you closer to him. A… figure emerged from the corner. It was Tiramisu… in a child sized Jeep?

Without having to see who it was, Grayson called out, “Xander.” It was silent before Xander popped out from behind you and Grayson, his arm tightening even more around you. You yelped, clinging on to Grayson.

“Greetings, fellow residents.” Xander gave them no time before he started to ask questions. “How has your day been? How do you like Tiramisu’s Jeep? How about the turkeys? Are they interesting this year? Should I dye them purple-“

“Alexander,” Grayson commanded, stopping Xander in his tracks. You’d almost never seen Xander stop talking this quickly, but he was silent. “There is no need to dye the turkeys, or anything for that matter, purple.”

Xander’s lip puffed out in a pout. “But that’s the best part,” he whined, knowing full well that he would do it anyway. And temporarily dye Grayson’s hair to get back at him.

Contorting your face, you look to Xander. “I don’t think purple is very festive…”

Xander looked up, taking that into consideration, and nodded. Tiramisu panted from beneath you, wiggling against whatever was keeping him in the toy car. Xander bent down to pet him, earning wet dog kisses to his hand.

“We better get going,” he said, “Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Your brows furrowed. “You training him for the Macy’s day parade or something?”

“Similar to that. Hawthorne style,” he said with a grin that greatly reflected Jameson.

“Do not suspend him from a helicopter like you did with our last dog? That did not end well for Wilhelmina,” Grayson scolded.

What happened to Wilhelmina?

Xander huffed out a long sigh, groaning and whining like a little kid. “You always ruin my plans, little Graybe-“

“Don’t even try that with me, Alexander.” The full name again. What was up with him today?

Xander turned around, pulling out a remote control to have Tiramisu slowly follow him as he sulked away. But Tiramisu’s smiley little dog face was the opposite of Xander’s, tongue out and panting.

“Xander?” you called. He slowly, dramatically, turned around to face you again. “Who’s feeding the turkeys?”

“We’re going in an order. I’m first, then Jamie, Grayson, Nash, Avery, Libby, and last Oren,” he mumbled, still keeping his sad face on.

He turned back around, pulling out a remote control to push Tiramisu around as he wobbled away. Beside Xander, Tiramisu was the opposite, his face all smiley, tongue out, tail wagging, and panting.

When they were far enough away, you looked up at Grayson, your best attempt at a mad face directed at him.

He noticed your expression, arching a brow—those weirdly perfect brows. No, it was actually weird—and cocking his head. “What’s that face for?”

“That was really mean, Grayson. I think you should apologize,” you declared.

Grayson gave you a look, one that you knew meant that you both mutual understood something, but you were deciding to act like you didn’t. “He’s going to be okay. I know he’s going to be okay. And the look he gave me just means he’s going to do that, but ten times worse.”

“But you called him his full name. Twice!” You’d almost never heard Xander be called by his full name. Not even by Nash. It genuinely took you a second to realize that Alexander wasn’t an inside joke between Xander and Grayson.

“Trust me, he’ll be okay,” he said, finally, squeezing your arm and giving you a kiss on the top of the head. “Now, how about we go back to our gallery walk?”

The smile reappeared on your face and the two of you turned around, making your way back into Hawthorne House.

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Thursday, November 21st, 2024

Somehow, on this fine evening, every just so happened to be eating lunch at the same time, small talk filling the table as they passed plates around, piling food on top of other food that you knew were not goin for taste good once all mixed together. But for some strange reason, Avery and Jameson made it a competition to see who could stack their plate higher without a single thing falling. They were both well off their plates, at least six inches of food each. You and Grayson shared the same disgusted look. Yeah, your family wasn’t as fancy as all these people, but at least you had manners.

Suddenly, with dramatic effect, Xander burst into the room, a panicked look that you had never seen before on his face. The bang made Avery jump, knocking over everything on your plate, mingling with all the other food. Her hand flew over her mouth at the mess. Not only did it topple over and mix everything, it splattered everything everywhere, on everyone, and Tiramisu was more than happy to clean up the floor.

“Xander!” Avery screeched. Her face softened when she saw Xander’s. “Xander..?

“They. Are. Gone.” He punctuated each word with a force you’d expect out of Grayson.

Nash swiftly stood up, getting into his ready stance. “Who is gone, Xan?”

“The turkeys. When I went to go check and see if they ate all their breakfast, there was only one left. I didn’t close that pen right, they’re all gone,” his tone was frantic, more than you had ever heard from him before.

Grayson followed Nash but his stance was much more protective, aware. “That just means that they are on the premises, not exactly inside of Hawthorne House.”

Xander shook his head violently. “They are inside. The seven that got out. And they are out for revenge,” he panted. You finally made the connection that he was probably running from them.

Oren started to talk to someone on his radio, giving them instructions on what measures to take next. Xander sat down at the table, swiping his finger through Avery’s fallen mix of ham, cheese, mayo, grapes, and some garlic sauce. Xanders face twisted, then loosened, and continued that pattern. Grayson had migrated over to Oren, trying to go through everything they had to do.

The rest of the lunch was silent, doors locked, waiting for the anticipation of the turkeys.

“So everyone-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

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It wasn’t long before one of the turkeys tried to claim its first victim.

Can turkeys fly?

Yes, turkeys can fly, but only short distances.

Speed

Wild turkeys can fly at speeds of up to 55 miles per hour.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Help me.

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You were aimlessly roaming Hawthorne House, trying to find something to distract yourself with. Thundering footsteps came from down the hall, screaming accompanying the steps. It was a familiar shriek. Avery. And then you heard it, what she was running from. The gobbles echoed through the endless halls, not allowing you to know where it was coming from.

You looked around for any kind of escape, anything high enough that you could still climb on. You time spent with the Hawthornes and built you an expertise in climbing, even when there was almost nothing to climb. There was the tiniest ledge, just enough to fit your foot, so, you began your climb. Arm moving up and over, feet bracing against the wall.

On top of the ledge, your legs shook, almost taking you down to the ground. Avery’s footsteps grew louder as they approached you, the flapping of wings following. She shrieked again, the slapping of her shoes against the ground growing closer together, her legs moving faster.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, her arms pumping as she rounded a corner, coming in to view.

Suddenly, she ran into something. She faced the turkey, its speed slowing. They were at a standstill. Avery versus the turkey. Avery stood proud, trying to cover her obviously shaking hands and legs, her breathing ragged. She licked her lips, staring down the turkey. Taking her eyes off for only a second, she looked up at you, pleading in her gaze.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare? Help me!” she called out, disturbing the turkey. It gave an aggressive gobble, taking a step toward Avery and flapping it’s wings. She moved backwards, slightly stumbling.

Under you, the wall shook, knocking you off balance. You almost fell, but narrowly caught the ledge with your shaking fingers, her hands almost too sweaty to hold you up. Without any warning, a loud crack came from under you. Avery instinctively ducked down, her arms covering her head. The turkey fell over, it’s body still on the floor, a small hole behind where the turkey had just stood.

It felt like your legs moved without any signals from your brain, nothing was telling you to move but you were.

“Avery!” you said, rushing over to her. You knelt beside her, your hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s okay, shh, you’re okay,” your voice was gentle. Her body shook as she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around you.

Footsteps echoed from behind the two of you, and you turned to find Jameson holding one of the Winchester rifles. How fitting. Then, you connected the dots. Secret passage way.

“Avery,” Jameson breathed out, falling down beside you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I scared you.” Similar to Xander earlier that day, he looked more panicked than ever, scooping Avery out of your arms.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, her breathing still uneven.

“Fine and okay aren’t the same thing, Heiress,” Jameson said, a small, soft, trying-to-be-comforting smile on his face.

Avery took one more deep breath before sitting up, untangling herself from Jameson. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The two sat for a moment, just staring at each other.

“We should probably clean that up,” you commented, loosely referring to the dead turkey a few feet away.

“Yeah,” they sighed together.

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After Oren had come and cleaned the turkey up, you traveled back to you and Grayson’s room, flopping down on the bed next to Grayson and his laptop. You gave a dramatic sigh, finally able to breathe fully.

“What’s that for?” Grayson asked, starting at her collarbone and tracing a finger down your arm into your hand.

“One turkey down,” you began, “six to go.”

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Friday, November 22nd, 2024

Some nights, when even you couldn’t get Grayson to fall asleep, you two resorted to the few other people Grayson felt——not necessarily safe sleeping in a room with——comfortable to sleep in a room with if you were their too. Grayson’s eyes drooped, and you felt so bad. He hadn’t slept much before you had arrived back at Hawthorne House from Harvard, the place where he had betrayed you and left. He didn’t really betray you, just had his own shit to deal with. But, still, it hurt. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever, shadowing his pale face. You also came to the realization that his heightened irritability—Xander’s first name, the purple turkeys—was due to Grayson’s lack of sleep. Poor thing.

You wrapped one of the millions of blankets Xander had in his pile that he called a bed around Grayson, tucking him in snuggly.

“Good night,” you whispered against his ear, giving his cheek a soft kiss.

Xander was also somewhere in the pile, probably cuddled up with Max or some of his stuffed animals.

“Good night to you too, Xan,” you whisper called, a waving hand appearing somewhere underneath the blankets.

Xander had a strange habit of forgetting to close doors. Anywhere he went. Any time. But he especially did when he went to bed. You always assumed he didn’t have much of a night time routine. Well, until Max came around and forced him into a nightly skincare routine. Or maybe Xander just liked to have that small nightlight, just a little childlike comfort.

Lying behind Grayson, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arm draping over him side under his arm. You tried to sleep, you really did, but with the events from today, you couldn’t help your open eyes. Grayson’s hair twirled around your finger, his light snoring, Xanders not-so light snoring, Max wiggling around in her sleep. Everyone in the house was peaceful, but you just couldn’t focus. And when you tried to sleep, you only thought about not sleeping, keeping you awake even longer.

So quiet. So eerily quiet. Nothing like what you were used to sleeping through in Cambridge. Or, at least, your first year when you were required to live on campus. Since then, and kind of to apologize for leaving, Grayson got you a nice house not too far from campus. It was nice and cozy—2 bed, 3 bath, nice finished basement equipped with a bar!—just what you were looking for. It kind of reminded you of the heaps of blankets you were in right now.

One game you enjoyed playing in Xander’s room was Dig In His Weird Blanket Pile And See What You Find! It was kind of like a blind bag: you never know what you’re going to pull out.

You dug your hand in, feeling around until you found something. It was cold, despite the warmth of the blankets, circular, felt like glass. You wretched our hand out of the pile, holding up a small, glass ball. A Fushigi ball? Hawthornes and their weird talents. You put that one back down, digging around for something else. Your fingers caught in something else, pulling out a crochet hook, a single piece of yarn connecting it to a half finished crochet dog that vaguely resembles Tiramisu.

You continued to dig around, finding new random things, some you didn’t even know existed. When your hand was touching the bottom of this pit, the room got lighter, and lighter. The door was creaking open. But Nash wouldn’t be up, he probably would’ve woken Libby up. And why would Jameson or Avery be coming in here at this hour? That left only one thing.

The fucking turkeys.

You froze, your arm still in the sea of blankets, unable to move. Beside you, Grayson shifted, rubbing his head around, his brows furrowing when we couldn’t find your hand.

“Mm,” he whined, his arm reaching to feel around. Your free arm roughly grasped his wrist, stirring him more. “What are you doing…” he trailed off when he saw the panic on your face, the utter fear. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He sat up fully, grabbing your hands. You looked back up at the ledge of the pit until he followed your gaze. He must have noticed the weird amount of light streaming into the room.

Then the gobble came. And another. Were there multiple? Here? Right now?

Like some sort of sleeper agent—literally—Max launched up from where she was sleeping, bringing Xander’s arm with her. Xander stirred too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“What the fuck was that?” Max whispered, her eyes locked forward as if she wasn’t able to move, that if she did some monster—the turkeys—would come out and attack her.

There was a figure peering over the ledge now, casting a shadow on Max. It’s sickly long neck, that stupid beak, the feathers down the rest of the body. You were only just realizing how terribly inaccurate your hand-turkey drawings had been. It gobbled again, flapping its wings, and jumped down. Max screamed, scrambling out of the pit. You followed, confused and disoriented, the lack of sleep catching up to you. Grayson rushed up after you, his arms going around you.

Xander continued to look around confused. And then he began to, very slowly, climb onto the ledge, wobbling across his room to somewhere by a desk of some sort. “Don’t freak out, you guys. I have something for this.”

Of course he did.

He adjusted the screws or bolts of mechanical things you didn’t understand, paying very close attention to the turkey’s position. He pulled a small lever back, and then let go. It was another one of his weird machines, the ones that take too many steps. The thing ran almost all the way around his room: on the walls, the book ridden ceiling, the floor, even. Only seconds after that lever was released, a ball, in your mind a canon ball, launched from a corner not too far from you, hitting the turkey square in the head.

That drew a gasp from you, Max, and Grayson, all still standing huddled in a corner.

“There,” Xander said, grogginess roughening his voice, “are you better now?”

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You and Grayson laid on the floor of Nash and Libby’s room, Max curled up next to you. The door was locked securely, making sure to pose no danger to the sleeping people inside.

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Saturday, November 23rd, 2024

When your eyes finally opened, they met Nash’s, Grayson standing beside him.

“Mornin’,” he said, patting your shoulder. The surface under you was comfortable, squishy, compared to the floor you, Grayson, and Max had chosen to sleep on last night.

When you finally collected your mind, you focused on where you were, what you knew about the turkeys now. I’m in Libby and Nash’s bed, I think, and two turkeys have been taken down. That leaves only five more, that could be done in a day, right?

“Are you feeling any better?” Grayson asked, his voice soft and quiet.

You completely ignored the question. “Where is Xander?”

A small smile pulled at Grayson’s lips, warming your heart. Your face also heated up thinking about the fact you most likely looked like you crawled out of a dumpster five seconds ago.

“Xan slept in his own room. He’s okay, too,” Grayson assured, running a hand through your hair, getting caught in the knots near the bottom.

“Mm,” you hummed in recognition. You stuffed your face back into one of the pillows, trying to drift off again. Grayson’s hand ran down your back, stopping just above your hips and tracing back up.

It was nice, having him there with you, something to keep you steady in the midst of all these turkey troubles. Your mind drifted off, dreaming of pool what and hot summer days, cameras and candid polaroid pictures, Grayson’s violin and your piano matching in just the right places.

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The next time you woke up, the room was more familiar the things you had dreamed of: playful strings of photos on the wall, his violins hanging with them. It was nice to have that feeling of home in at least one place here.

It was so quiet. Quieter than you had ever heard it. Even in the dead of night you could here Jameson and Avery scurrying around, Grayson taking a swim, Xander working up late on his next project, the steady strum of Nash’s guitar, used to put the babies to bed. Everyone had probably locked themself up in their room, including you. But then where was Grayson?

Deciding it was time for your next quest, you got up, wobbling over to the closet, and then the bathroom, finally getting ready for the day. You didn’t feel like doing much today; just a simple sweater, jeans, and a pair of fluffy socks you pulled out of some looks of clothes you were hiding from Grayson.

After leaving the bathroom, you opened the door to the balcony, the cold air washing over your body. You peered over the railing, the pool water still leaving no sign that Grayson had been there. Strange. Guess the next stop was the music room.

The hallways were especially empty today. Not even a cleaner or security walking around. That’s why the hallways were so quiet. It was eerie walking through the halls, the ceiling too tall now, the walls too close, the hall too long, a shiver creeping up your spine. Your steps quicken, trying to looking for any signs of Grayson. But it was like he just disappeared, gone.

Standing outside of the empty music room, you felt weak, tired too, your lack of sleep finally catching up to you. Then, your ears caught the beginning of a note, followed by another, and another, each played flawlessly, tuned perfectly. Maybe the music room wasn’t so empty. But piano wasn’t exactly Grayson’s forte. Your head peeked in, catching a glimpse of a figure at one of the pianos. A cane leaned up against the bench gave away who it could be. The sound of your steps light, you entered the room, trying not to disturb Nan as she listened to the piano.

“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice as gruff as usual. “You ain’t sneaky.”

Now caught, with no escape, you walk over to the piano, standing on the other end of the bench.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you said. Nan looked over to you, and you were just now realizing where Nash had gotten his many faces from. “Mind if I sit here? I won’t make a peep,” you promised.

“Fine,” she huffed.

You took a seat beside her, gentle to not knock over her cane of the other side. Sitting silently, you watched as the piano keys pressed themselves down, the music following with them.

“You play?” she asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nodded slowly. “Sorta. I’m rusty though,” you admitted. You placed your hands gently on the piano keys, thinking up a song to play. Her fingers pressed down the key, moving in a familiar rhythm. The occasional press of the wrong key would stop you, making the song choppy. But you couldn’t help to think that those mistakes, the things that might slow you down, just added character.

Nan swayed to the music beside you, matching the rhythm. She seemed to recognize the song, know how to play it, pressing down a key or two on her side when it might have seemed too far from you. It was nice to have this moment. Most of the time, and what had been described of her, Nan wasn’t gentle, she was gruff, she was snorted laughs, she was bored huffs. Or maybe, just maybe, Nan was just Nan.

“You’re good,” her voice seemed softer now, calm “Y’know that, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her finger rested against one of the lower octave note, playing a simple pattern, switching between notes. Her head turned the slightest bit toward you, you could feel it.

“C’mere more often. I can get you to learn some of my favorite songs,” she said. A smile grew on your face, returned with a not so happy look. “Don’t make that face. You’re starting to look like Xander.”

Pad-pad-pad

The hell?

Pad-pad-pad

You leaned over, trying to see on Nan’s side, find where the padding feet were coming from. Riding up next to the two of you, an animal came in, bobbing its head as it walked. The turkey.

“How are you in here?” Nan said at the turkey, and the way she said it made it seem like she actually expected an answer from it.

Gobble

She stared at the turkey, like the stare-down Avery had had with the first turkey. Her hand reached over for the precariously balanced cane.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

“You’re really going to make me up, aren’t you, bastard,” she huffed, standing up and using the piano as leverage.

Her cane swung aimlessly in the air, only hitting the turkey a few times. “Scram!” she shouted at it, watching as it scurried away in her presence.

Bonk

The turkey slammed right into the wall.

Thud

Another loud sound as the turkey hit the ground.

Similar to Nan, you just stared at it, motionless.

“One more turkey down,” you grumbled.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Sunday, November 24th, 2024

Waddling into the kitchen, you jumped up to sit on the counter beside Libby’s chocolate cupcakes.

“Libbbyyy,” you said.

“Yeeeeesss,” she dragged as she carefully frosted a cupcake.

You put on your best puppy eyes, looking at her like a little kid. “Can you make me something for lunch?”

“You’re twenty-two,” someone drawled from behind you. “You don’t need Lib to make you lunch.”

You flicked your hand at Nash, not even turning around to look at him. “Shoo.”

“Excuse me?” Nash said, his voice now right behind you.

Nash walked around the counter, a baby balancing on his hip, taking a ball of cookie dough off of a baking sheet nearby and popping it in his mouth. “I think,” he said around the cookie dough, “you should make your own lunch and let Lib breathe.”

“Thank you, Nash, but I think I can take care of myself.”

The baby was placed on the counter next to you, looking up and smiling at you.

“Hi, there, baby,” you squealed, picking her up and placing her on your lap, moving her arms around to fake punch or lifting them up and down, making her dance. She giggles and squeals, looking around, until her face dropped, looking at the entrance to the kitchen. Following her gaze, your eyes landed on another one of those stupid turkeys.

“Another one?” you whispered, drawing the attention of Nash and Libby.

“Another what-“

The room froze, everyone’s eyes on the turkey. Everything in the room was still, just staring. Until the turkey screamed its battle cry.

“What the hell,” Nash muttered, watching as the turkey ran in circles around the kitchen.

Libby jumped onto the counter watching as the turkey made a b-line toward her. She screeched, grabbing that pan of cookie dough and throwing it, hitting the turkey right on the head. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering it in shock.

“I just killed that turkey,” she mumbled. “I just killed that fucking turkey,” she repeated, her eyes wide.

Across the room, Nash stood staring at Libby. “Good job, Lib,” he said proudly.

“Usually, the turkey in the kitchen is dead,” Jameson said, entering the kitchen. Avery soon followed behind, probably startled by all the commotion.

“Libby, what’s wrong? What was that bang? And most of all, why are you on the counter?” She gave no time to answer any of the questions.

Libby’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words.

“Are those turkey cupcakes?” Avery asked, looking to the tray of cupcakes beside Libby.

“I was stress baking!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Monday, November 25th, 2024

It was quiet again, the hallways. They weren’t empty this time, though, just quiet. Sitting on one of the many benches placed around Hawthorne House, you were reading a book, still too distracted by the turkeys which defeated the purpose of reading. Or what reading was supposed to be doing right now. Your book just wasn’t interesting enough. It couldn’t grab your attention like so many others had before. You thought it could be an escape, but it failed, miserably. Every sound, the rustle of a tree, the audible explosion of one of Xander’s creations, the faint shriek of Grayson’s violin, it all made you jump. When was the next time you’d be accosted by a turkey?

Bark, bark, bark

“Tiramisu!” Xander screeched as he ran after Tiramisu, both of them moving directly toward you.

Tiramisu jumped on the bench beside you, sticking his nose in your nose and then licking all over your face, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Xander!” you said, choppy through your laughter. “Help me!”

Once Xander had gotten to the bench, he opened his arm, scooping up Tiramisu. “I told you to stay by me, missy,” he said, “I said you had to be the Oren to my Avery!”

“You’re using Tiara as your bodyguard?” you laughed in disbelief, the concept of Tiramisu, so tiny next to Xander, being his bodyguard was comical.

Xander head nodded proudly, placing Tiramisu back on the ground. He flopped onto the bench, blowing out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s like this dog doesn’t even know English.”

You snorted. “Xander, you’re not gonna believe what I’m about to tell you…”

A smile grew on his face, looking over at you. “Aren’t you ecstatic to have Katrina here? I know you love her so much.” One of his long, skinny fingers approached you, poking your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “I don’t know. At least Gigi will be there.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” said Xander. Tiramisu jumped up on the bench, lying on her back and spreading across your and Xander’s laps, all smiling and panting. Your hand instinctively went to his belly, petting him.

Suddenly, a thought came to your mind. “Who takes Tiramisu on walks?”

Xander stared blanking at the cleanly lined trees across the path, his smile fading. “That’s a very good question.” He cocked his head, genuinely lost in thought.

“Oh, my gosh. I don’t know who walks Tiramisu,” he admitted. “I don’t even know if she gets walked.”

The two of you sat, contemplating Tiramisu’s daily schedule, trying to find any space where a walk could fit it.

“She has her morning bath at 8, then she has breakfast at 9:30, every other week at 10:30 she has her manicure,” Xander said. “12:00 she has lunch and then goes to play.”

“Maybe that’s when she gets walked?”

“But that’s play time, not walking. At 12:45, she’s tired and takes her afternoon nap in Libby and Nash’s room, and joins Nash for a doggy guitar lesson and then a doggy piano lesson at 2:00 and 2:30.”

“How does she even play guitar or piano? It’s not like she has fingers,” you asked, thinking of all the possible, stupid, ways that Xander could have come up with.

Xander shot up, intrigued by the opportunity to share his creation. “Okay, so it’s one really big piano, like, each key is a foot wide, and it’s like those ones that you can step on to play it and it’s really fun.”

“What about the guitar?”

“That’s one isn’t really her playing, she just kind of paws at the strings and Nash’s hand…”

“Oh.”

More silence. Tiramisu panting. You pull your phone out, checking the time. 12:19 Perfect timing.

“Perfect timing,” you voiced. “It’s play time.”

Tiramisu shot up, jumping off of your laps and spinning in circles, waiting for you and Xander to play with her.

“Should we play with the long sword today?” Xander joked, standing up and aggressively rubbing Tiramisu’s back.

“For sure,” you said sarcastically, getting up from your own position, closing your book not caring about where you were.

Tiramisu trotted next to you as the group of you walked to one of the many expensive fields scattered around the Hawthorne property. There was actually an area dedicated to Tiramisu, a bucket of toys and beaten up sticks near the entrance to the fenced off land.

He fake threw it a few times, finally letting it go and watching Tiramisu launch after it, a bolt of brown, curly fur.

“We really need to find a time to get her walked,” you sighed.

“Or just ask Nash if she goes on walks.” Xander shrugged slightly, taking the returned stick and catapulting it again. You were surprised that Xander didn’t have a machine for this yet, but you guessed he just really wanted to spend some time with Tiara.

“Christmas is also coming up, maybe we’ll do something fun again like the other year,” reminded Xander.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to do Hawthorne Secret Santa That’s Not At All Secret Santa. “Crazy how me and Tiramisu got each other. She couldn’t even get me a present!”

“She did get you a present,” Xander pouted.

Shooting a glare at him, you crossed your arms. “I proper present. Not a pigeon he found on the driveway.”

A minute passed and Tiramisu still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t have gone far, but surely it had been far enough for you to not see her at all.

Another minute.

Tick, tock

Another minute.

What’s taking so long?

“Tiara?” You called, your voice echoing through the wind. “Tiara? Tiramisu!”

Nothing but trees rustling.

“Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne!” Xander shouted, starting to walk in the direction Tiramisu had last ran to. “Where are you?”

Trudging up the hilly part of Tiramisu’s play area, you peeked to the fall of the hill, two figures running around at the lowest point. You could easily recognize Tiramisu being one of them.

“Tiramisu!” you repeated, running down the hill. Watching as the hyper dog ran around after something, she finally caught up, pouncing on it.

“What is that?” Xander muttered, following you down the hill.

Approaching the writhing animal and Tiramisu, you recognized the long neck, the feathered body, the distorted squabble.

She got another turkey!

You scrambled over to her, rubbing and petting her. “Good girl, Tiara!”

“Yay!!” Xander whooped from behind you, pumping his fists in the air and jumping up and down. “Tiramisu’s a hero!” he chanted.

“Tiramisu’s a hero!” you joined in, jumping around as Tiramisu ran in circles around you.

Two turkeys left. Which, based on this pattern, two more days.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Tuesday, November 26th, 2024

Gigi’s arrival was scheduled for today. And Katrina. Ugh.

Avery was always the one to greet people at the door, as she owned Hawthorne House and didn’t want anyone doing anything for her. With the events of the last five days, Avery had to, reluctantly, bring a whole new group of bodyguards to the door.

You decided to join them, thinking that it would save you from the turkeys that seemed weirdly attracted to you. Your meet up spot was far from the entrance—in some random meeting room one the third floor of Hawthorne House. Maybe turkeys couldn’t climb stairs? It’s only other method of getting to the third floor would be elevator which wouldn’t work very well for them.

“So, Avery,” you said, sidling up into the beside Avery, “how do you think Thanksgiving is going to go this year? Seems pretty eventful already.”

“Not good.” Her head was balanced in her hands, elbows in the table. “Everything has gone to shit because of those stupid turkeys.”

Reassuringly patting her back, you leaned back in your chair. “I think it’ll be fine. Thanksgiving—scratch that, any holiday—here is always a little eventful. Like secret santa the other year.”

“Oh, my god, that was hilarious. Libby got out so fast,” she let out in a laugh.

“Oh! Not really a holiday, but from what I’ve heard of Nash’s bachelor party,” you said. “You know what?” Avery hummed. “I should get Grayson a pair of fresh leather pants for Christmas this year.”

Avery let out a strained giggle, trying to hold it in, before she exploded, throwing her head back and leaning in her chair, almost tipping it over.

“Ms. Grambs,” one of the new bodyguards said, his voice commanding. Your laughter quickly subsided, leaving you and Avery silent. “Ms. Grayson will be here soon. I recommend starting to walk to the entrance in order to get here before she does.”

Avery nodded, standing up from her chair, stretching, and walking over to Oren. You followed her like a lost puppy, standing awkwardly on the side as she tells Oren what the other bodyguard had just said to her.

“Shall we get going?” she offers.

“We shall,” Oren replies flatly.

With what seemed like an entire army of bodyguards behind you, Avery, and Oren, you started your journey, through the windy halls and passageways.

Truly, you were excited to have Gigi over, thrilled, but it was that cat. Katrina. Katrina Katrina. Now, she wouldn’t do anything to you—couldn’t do anything. It was just that hunger way she looked at you, her eyes forming into slits as she glared at you from perched beside Gigi.

“I can just tell you’re thrilled to have Katrina over,” Avery said, practically reading your mind.

“Me and Grayson already had this conversation,” you huffed, shaking your head at the ground.

Avery just laughed, following your gaze to the ground. “It just,” she paused. “Katrina isn’t even scary.”

“It’s not that!” you burst. “It’s not that she herself is scary, it’s just that way she looks at me like I’m her next meal. Like I’m one of the turkeys!”

Avery seemed very amused by your argument, just smirking that smile that told you she had spent one too many hours with Jameson.

“Maybe you are her next meal,” Avery teased, poking your ribs.

“You’d just let me get scarfed down by that cat?” you scoffed. “Wow. What a fake friend.” You crossed your arms, dramatically turning away from Avery and picking up your speed.

Avery just skipped after you, jumping on your back and holding your sleeve to keep you close by. “I was just kidding, jeez,” she laughed, watching as a smile broke out on your face. “See! You aren’t even mad at me!”

You joined her giggling, knocking into each other as you walked through the halls, laughing over stupid stuff that probably wasn’t even funny.

“Oh, my god!” Avery jumped up. “There’s something I have to tell you about! Okay, let’s set the scene, I’m in my room, it’s an unusually quiet night. Jameson isn’t back yet and his curfew, set by me because we had an event early the next morning, was way behind us. Hours behind.”

“Damn. Grayson would never. Could,” you corrected.

“I know! I’m getting tired, it’s like twelve and I’m just planning on going to bed by myself, cold and lonely,” she continued.

You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling you in. “You could have just cuddled with me,” you said with a wink.

“Aww,” she shimmed her shoulders against you. “Okay, back to my story! The lights are off, I’m almost asleep, until the door finally creaks over, Jameson standing in the doorframe. To be funny, I pretended to sleep, waiting for him to shake me awake or something. But all that happens is that Jameson crawls into bed next to me— Oh! I forgot to mention he was drunk. Yeah, so, he crawls up next to me and just whispers in my ear,” she lowered her voice into a whisper, “‘I have a secret…’”

You recognized that, something Avery had mentioned one time when she was talking about her mom. “Doesn’t that have something to do with your mom..?” you guessed, shrinking away in case you were wrong.

“Yes! At this point, I’m intrigued, waiting for Jameson to whisper whatever this secret was into my ear. And what he said is un-fucking-believable. He says: ‘When me and Nash and Grayson and Xander were younger, we tried starting a band, and we uploaded a bunch of videos to YouTube—it was a private account—but someone hacked in and made it public. So, somewhere on the internet, you can find video of all of us dressed up real funny and singing a bunch of shitty songs.’”

Your mouth drops open, trying to picture a younger Grayson on some makeshift stage at Hawthorne House, performing some pop or rock song.

Avery just laughs and smiles at your shocked expression. “That’s exactly how I felt on the inside,” she giggled, clearing her throat to continue her story. Again. “Like any sane person, of course I go in my computer the next day, and search up their little band. It wasn’t difficult, even if I didn’t have a name, and lord was it funny. Jameson on electric guitar, Nash playing some regular guitar, Xander on drums, and Grayson for vocals.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!”

“She isn’t!” a new voice pops in. In front of you stood Gigi, Hello Kitty suitcase almost exploding, mostly like being packed with cat toys. Katrina was sitting next to her, way too professional for a cat.

“So?” Gigi lifts her eyebrows. “What is she not kidding about?”

You and Avery grinned at each other, slowly turning to Gigi. “Your brother and his brothers’ attempt at a boy band,” you both said.

Gigi gasped dramatically, a smile stretching across her face. “You’re kidding!”

“She’s not!”

“I’m not!”

Not too far, as you’d expect, was Oren, the smallest hint of a smile in his face. He noticed you staring, gesturing a nod toward Avery. “She isn’t lying. I was there.”

Through the commotion of laughter and conversation, it would’ve been hard to hear anyone, anything if something went wrong. Or if you had a visitor.

“Ow!” Gigi winced, placing a hand on her hip and rubbing it. “What was that?” She jumped again. “Ow! What the…” She looked down to her left, finding the perpetrator.

“A turkey?” she asked, her voice a mix of shocked confusion and fear. And then full fledged fear as she realized that there was a turkey trying to get her. “It’s a turkey!” she squeaked, running over and trying to climb Oren like a jungle gym.

Noticing her alert, he gets right in to bodyguard mode, looking around for the threat. He landed on the turkey, reaching somewhere on his hip.

“You two, move back. Now,” he ordered, not wasting a second once we had. Just like the first turkey taken down, a loud bang rang out, the turkey thudding on the floor after.

A new commotion broke out after the shot was fired, filling the foyer with a sound too loud for you. Quiet was something you were used to now. It wasn’t too nothing, it just was. But this, it broke all of that quiet.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Wednesday, November 27th, 2024

There was one last turkey. One final turkey before this was all over. Like you had the day the turkey war began, everyone was gathered in one of the dining room to eat lunch, but instead, it was a meeting.

“Okay, everyone!” Avery commanded from the head of the table, standing up from her chair. “I have brought you here today to discuss our game plan to take down the final torturous turkey. I have devised a role for each of you.”

A list appeared on a screen that seemed invisible until now.

Avery and Y/N: Gamemasters [;)] - Will create solutions and test products alongside our Builders.

Libby and Nash: Healers (Lots of baked goods…) - Helps in case of emergencies.

Jameson and Gigi: Fuel - Food, drinks, whatever. Most likely working beside our Healers.

Grayson and Oren: Logistics (of sorts) - Thinks about how our plan may actually work, what might go wrong, and how to fix it.

Xander and Max: Builders (you’ve got this, Max!) - Builds our solution if needed, tests it too.

Oren’s Men: Capturers - searches for the turkey and relays messages to Oren.

Tiramisu & Katrina: Our Last Resort Weapons - If all else fails, we have them to use.

“Working in these teams will help our plan work better. Each of us being alone may cause too much stress or tension. Having multiple people on a job will also move things alone faster,” Avery states. “Lots of these roles will work with other roles, example, Gamesmakers will often work with the Logicians and Builders. Because of our collaboration, we’ll need a method of communication. Phones may be laggy and are very reliant on battery, which some of us don’t value.” Avery shot a glare at Jameson. “So, each of you will be given a walkie-talkie.” She looked to Oren, motioning for a box on the floor ten feet from the table. He lifted the box, walking around the table and distributing one to each member.

“Now, shall we spread out? Our Healers: Libby, Nash, and our Fuel: Jameson, and Gigi in the kitchen. The Gamemakers, Logistics, and Builders follow me. Capturers spread out and look for the turkey. Our final weapons will also be with our healers and fuel. Go!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Nothing was working. Each plan failed by just a little bit, and when you tried fixing it, it failed again. Everyone was tired. Sitting there for three hours trying to think of something, trying it , and failing. No matter how much food and drinks you were given, that adrenaline from before was starting to fade. We also haven’t got any word on where the turkey could be.

You lay on the floor, head resting on Grayson’s chest, his hand running through your hair, down your back, and back up.

“We can’t give up,” Avery said, sitting up from her defeated starfish on the floor.

“But there’s only one more option left,” you groaned.

“Katrina and Tiramisu.”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

“Oren,” a distorted voice came from his walkie-talkie, “we’ve got’em. In Alexander’s Wing. He was standing out front of Alexander’s room, almost got in. Couldn’t find him for a while; place’s a mess.”

From across the room, you watched an exaggerated frown form in Xander’s face.

“Time to move out,” Oren ordered, leading the way.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Luckily for you, every hallway of Xander’s wing was filled to the brim with weird trinkets and big machine pieces. Hidden behind a long table which was most likely used to hold fancy decorations at one point, everyone crouched, covered by the new less fancy things piled on the table.

“Xander, you’ve really got to clean up your mess,” Nash said, that mother hen coming out of him.

Xander waved a dismissive hand in his face. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make Grayson do it then.” Xander’s worst fear: someone possibly messing up his perfectly messy set up with their perfectly clean organization skills. Which Grayson excelled at.

Xander’s head turned slowly toward Nash, his eyes narrowed. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” He punctuated every word, but it was difficult to take Xander seriously sometimes.

“You know damn well I would dare,” Nash chuckled, meeting Xander’s eyes, steady and even, not even a hint of intimidation.

“Enough with the bickering,” Avery demanded. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

Avery’s head spun around, looking at everyone, landing on Libby and Max frantically shaking their heads. With a sigh, Avery explained the plan. Again. “We send you in as bait,” Avery pointed to you, “and wait for the turkey. Once it tried to attack, we jump out and attack it. If nothing else works, we send out Tiramisu and Katrina. Now do you got it?”

The silent agreement was enough for Avery, sending you out to take your place across from the turkey. You felt like Avery or Nan, staring down the turkey, waiting for any movement from it. The tension built, heart racing under the gaze of everyone, everything. This probably looked so stupid: you, standing in front of a turkey, practically have a staring contest, while everyone else was scattered around the room hidden behind piles of shit Xander needed to clean up.

You knew that even if the turkey did attack you, which was what this plan relied on, you’d be safe. Each person was equipped with a weapon of their choice. Gigi was keeping Katrina back, Oren had his gun, Avery held her knife, steady in her fingers. Jameson had a finished bottle of wine, Xander held Tiramisu back, Max had been nervously gripping her wrench before, Libby had a baking sheet, Nash had a whole goddamn guitar, and, lastly, Grayson firmly held one of the long swords. None of these people would let you get hurt, even if it was by accident every single one of them would feel bad, like it was their fault.

But now, standing in front of the turkey, you have to put all that behind. Face this stupid thing head on.

It finally made a sound, a distorted gobble. You braced for impact at the sound of a squeal coming from somewhere in the room, but it never came. When your eyes opened, a streak of light brown blew past you. Was it the turkey? It was only until that same distorted squabble cried out that you realized that either Katrina or Tiramisu. Based on the fact that Katrina would probably enjoy seeing you being eaten by a turkey, you expected to find Tiramisu wherever the flash had gone to. On one side of the room, the opposite side, you heard a whine. So it wasn’t Tiramisu.

The sound of something being dragged across the floor drew your attention back to the other side of the room. Katrina moved slowly toward you, dragging the turkey in mouth toward you. She dragged it to your feet, stopping, sitting very professionally, looking up at you and flashing one of those strange smiles that cats can pull off. She nudged the turkey with her nose, sitting back up a pawing at it.

“Katrina!” Gigi shouted, her voice a mix of anger and admiration. “What was that? You weren’t supposed to go until I told you to!” she scolded, picking Katrina up.

Katrina looked up at her with those innocent eyes, nuzzling in Gigi’s neck. Gigi huffed out a sigh, giving up on trying to lecture Katrina into listening.

“Well,” Avery said, her voice holding a confusing emotion, “that was the final turkey. It’s over.”

The room broke out into a cheer, even Oren was smiling, but the only one standing still, in the middle of it all was Avery. Weaving through everyone, you walked up to Avery, taking one of her hands.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to catch her gaze.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

You gave her that look that Nash always gave you (you were still trying to master it), cocking a brow at her (another thing you’d learned!). “What’s wrong? You sad there’s no game anymore?”

Avery stayed quiet, swaying with you when you wrapped your arms around her. “I guess,” she said shamefully.

“I swear you’re starting to sound more and more like Jameson every day,” you teased, poking her in the ribs this time. “Now, come on, turn that frown—“you flashed a smile”—upside down.”

Taking both of her hands, you forced her to dance with everyone else, swaying around the room until she finally gave in.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Thursday, November 28th, 2024

There was a singular turkey on the large table, making it look small. Everything else was normal, and you knew damn well that with a snap of her finger Avery could have a thousand more turkey and make this year’s turkey amount normal. But she didn’t. And it felt like home. Watching everyone argue over how much turkey everyone would get, fighting over the last pieces.

Your hand searched around under the table, meeting Grayson’s and wrapping your fingers around his, leaning your head against his shoulder. A smile, unknowing smile grew on your face, watching everything, so perfect.

Maybe now you would try a little harder to make this place feel like home.

a/n: WOOOOOOOOO!!!! this took, like, over a week to write it’s actually insane. and the end still seems sort of rushed 😣😣 but i’m gonna leave it and maybe come back to it later. because of the rush, i don’t care if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proofread……..

#the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #xander hawthorne #writing #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne is my boyfriend!#grayson hawthorne x reader

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cassiachales · 9 months ago

Text

Journal Entry Two [And Realising That Grayson Hawthorne Has A Slutty Waist]

note: i actually didn't expect people to like this and actually read it ajhhagfrkyuesyrk thanks for all your nice comments <33

Sunday– Simply put, I’m fucked. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xander’s amazing plan began by throwing a party in Hawthorne House, and honestly, after drinking a bit too much last night, you didn’t find enough courage in yourself to drink more.

Because Xander’s parties always, always had a game of Whiskey Woes, and whiskey made your head spin.

Xander: Honestly, you should be glad I’m not locking you two in a room together 😏

You read and re-read that message countless times, not believing that Xander was actually trying to set you up with Grayson.

Like seriously?

You, someone who has life, and him, who’s a living statue? Even a random person on the street would say that the two of you didn’t belong together, no etceteras at all.

You: I don’t think whatever you’re planning is any better

Xander: Trust in me

Trusting a Hawthorne is the biggest mistake one can make. It’s a bad idea.

Unfortunately, you’re filled to the brim with bad ideas.

That’s how you found yourself in the sunroom of Hawthorne House at eight p.m., unopened whiskey bottles on the floor and papers with pens. Every single Hawthorne was there, except for Nash.

Bartending, apparently.

Avery was there too, sitting on the sofa with Jameson at her feet. And then there was Maxine Liu, who you knew to be Avery’s best friend.

Grayson was on an armchair, his legs stretched out and his body leaning to the side, his index finger on his temple and his elbow settled on the armrest.

Xander cleared his throat, and you began to dread what he was planning.

“As everyone here knows, no party is complete–or begins–without Whiskey Woes. Usually, we write a secret on a piece of paper, a secret that completely breaks you, and throw it in the Bowl of Woe.” He points towards a flowery plastic bowl in the middle of the room, decorated with chipped paint which illustrated roses and lilies.

“And then, we sit in a circle and ask questions. Each of you get one bottle of whiskey, and each time you pass a question, you drink a whole glass. When your bottle is over, you read out your woe. But this time, we’re doing things differently.”

Oh, no.

Xander smirked, and Jameson’s back straightened. Grayson’s eyebrow raising was the only sign of interest he showed.

“This time, we’re doing this in pairs. Choose your partners wisely.”

And then Xander extended his hand to Maxine, and Maxine took it.

They settled on the floor together, pulling one bottle of whiskey each and two slips of paper and pens.

“Well then, Heiress?”

“As if I’m choosing someone else.”

Jameson took his place on the sofa, bringing with him the supplies to play the game.

That left you, and a certain Grayson Hawthorne.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Whiskey Woes in a group is pain, but in pairs? With Grayson Hawthorne? No. Just no. Someday, I’m going to kill Xander for this, because it’s not like Grayson had any other choice other than teaming up with me. Whiskey, a game, and Grayson Hawthorne? Recipe for disaster. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Do I have a choice on not playing?” Grayson asked, and honestly, points to him. You don’t want to play a game with whiskey involved with him.

Xander smirked again. “Do you want to quit, Gray?”

Grayson stiffened.

“Oh, and another rule. If you don’t want to drink the whiskey and not answer a question, you remove an article of clothing from your body.” Xander continues.

Now, you glared at him.

“Sounds like you’re trying to mix in Strip Bowling.” Jameson said.

Xander shrugged. “I made the game, I make the rules.” Then he says your name. “Planning on playing? Gray’s the only one left, by the way.”

“Can’t I just drink without playing?”

“No.”

You sigh, getting up from your seat on the floor and moving towards the armchair Grayson sits on.

He looks at you walk towards him, and you want to combust.

You extend a hand. “Partners?”

He sighs, sitting up straight in his chair before lifting one hand and clasping yours in a stiff shake. “Partners.”

“Great.” You sit on the floor again. “Now sit down.”

He looks at the floor distastefully. “Must I?”

“It’s either you sitting on the floor or me sitting in your lap. Take your pick.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── And you know what’s worse? I told him to either sit on the floor, or let me sit on his lap. I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO COME OUT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. IT SOUNDED LIKE I WAS GOING TO DO THAT SEXUALLY OR WHATEVER BUT SERIOUSLY, I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t let you repeat what you said, though, sliding down from the chair and loosening his tie, sitting on the floor as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

He removes his jacket, throwing it on the armchair and rolling up his sleeves till the elbows.

You can’t stop looking.

“Done staring?” He asks, dryly.

You ignore him, writing your woe on the slip of paper instead.

I find Grayson Hawthorne hot. Yes. That’s it.

There. Something not too bad, but still suitable for Whiskey Woes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Trust me. I’m not going for sexual. It just happens. And no, I’m not writing down what I wrote. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Grayson tries to get comfortable when he writes, one long leg bent with the knee upwards, and near his head. His hair falls over his face as he writes, the paper on the floor.

He looks devastatingly handsome.

He takes your folded slip of paper and walks towards the Bowl of Woe, depositing the slips in the bowl and bringing back two bottles of whiskey.

He pours his whiskey into a glass, to the brim, and uncaps your bottle to pour in your glass too. And then:

“You start.”

You scramble for a question, before you settle on one.

“Do you actually tango?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I am embarrassment in a body ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?”

You blink once, twice, thrice before you look away, “Forget it.”

“Pfffft.”

His lips are in a small smile, which he tries to cover with his fingers.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But tell me, Why. Is. His. Laugh. So. Hot. It wasn’t even a real laugh. Just a small pfffft and it was both cute and hot?? ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Yes.” Grayson says, answering your question. “I’m assuming you get into tough situations a lot?”

You nod. “Now ask your question.”

His look is almost smug. “That was my question.”

“Did you know you’re almost cute when you don’t act like an entitled asshole?”

He drinks the whole glass of whiskey.

You blink. “That wasn’t a question but I’ll accept it.”

Grayson shrugs. “Everything’s a question.”

You don’t know how you ended up in your position around five minutes later. Around half of your bottle is empty, and his is almost over.

“Do you really have to ask such prying questions?” He asks, his eyes almost tired.

“Yes. My turn. Who’s the girl you kissed in Harvard?”

He frowns, taking a look at the bottle of whiskey.

Then he sighs.

You expect him to answer, but he doesn’t.

Instead, his long fingers move to his tie and removes it completely. He tosses it to the side. “One article of clothing.”

You hear Xander tut. “A tie doesn’t count, Gray.” And then the youngest Hawthorne downs a whole glass of whiskey.

Grayson’s fingers begin to undo the top button of his shirt, and he sighs again. “I absolutely loathe this game.”

It’s like watching a show. His long fingers unbutton each and every button before he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But then, guess what happened. He fucking removed his shirt. I will not tell him this, EVER. But Grayson Hawthorne has a slutty waist. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry One ☆ Journal Entry Three

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #au #fanfic #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne

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never-enough-novels · 9 months ago

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Grayon hawthorne x desi!reader dating headcanons

A/N: idk what I was high on when I wrote this but here it is. This is also the first time I'm writing anything like this so if you guys have any suggestions or otherwise pls do say so. Lemme know if I should make a part 2 cause I had many ideas for it.

1. Ok so we already know that grayon is a curious person by nature so he'll try to learn about your culture and much as he can.

2. He'll absolutely loveeee when you dress in your traditional clothing.

3. Imagine full photo shoot and stuff.

4.Lovesss to see you get ready. Imagine him gifting jhumkas🥹

5.FUSION DATE NIGHTS

6.I imagine my guy doesn't have a good spice tolerance and the first time he tried your food his face becomes all red and he drinks all the milk in the house to calm down.

7. Tries to increase his spice tolerance so yall can enjoy the food.

8. Will try to eat with hands for you idk i feel like he'll like it too @lanterns-and-daydreams

9. Still prefers coffee to tea but will drink it with you.

10. Gives side eye whenever someone calls it cHaI TeA.

11. Evening teas together 🥹.

12. Ready to throw hands if anyone says ANYTHING to you.

13. And by that I mean anything racist or otherwise.

14. Extremely protective but makes sure not to be too much or suffocating.

15. If you're new to the country, he'll take you to all the tourist spots and the places you wanna see.

16. Will buy out the entire place or rent it out if it's too crowded lol

17. ABSOLUTELY LOVES IT WHEN YOU PUT MEHANDI (HENNA)

18. Will hold your hands and trace the designs until they go off.

19. Will try to make some designs himself.

20. IMAGINE PUTTING A RIDDLE OR SOMETHING LIKE DESIGN ON YOUR HAND AND TELLING HIM TO SOLVE IT.

21. Whenever there is a festival around the corner will always ask if you're putting mehandi again and if he can do it for you. Ok I'm obsessed with this

22. He would try to learn your language and surprise you with it.

23. IMAGINE IF HE TRIES TO MAKE POEMS FOR YOU IN YOUR LANGUAGE

24. NSFW HEADCANON

Ok imagine this

He got you a cute Payal which has small bells on it. AND THEN HE RAILS YOU WHILE YOUR LEGS ARE ON HIS SHOULDERS AND HE CAN HEAR THE BELLS EJEJJKSKSKWNDJEKEKEKEK

For reference in case you didn't understand this is what I'm referring to

Tagging: @lanterns-and-daydreams @hearthown @shuhuaspookie

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sweetreveriee · 7 months ago

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a summer in december - grayson hawthorne x reader

wc: 734

summary: love we'll just remember, you didn't think you'd see grayson hawthorne ever again after your fling over winter break, but summer is full of surprises

pairings: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: first time writing x reader, probably not that good, use of yn (im sorry I couldn't avoid it), very very light swearing (like once), angsty(ish), no happy ending

tag list: no one yet! lmk if you wanna be tagged in the future!!

You loved the summer. You loved the beach, swimming, vacations, and just having a break. You turned so you could get a tan on your back. You also loved laying on the sand. The beach was quiet, the waves serene and the air clean. It was so relaxing. The sun was hot, but the sea breeze made it bearable. You could feel the heat on your back. You lay with your head down, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of the summer sun. Humming contently, you feel like you could take a nap.

Until some loud-ass family decided to come and ruin the day.

You look up, now annoyed. You see a girl with dark brown hair, chasing after a boy with lighter brown hair and green eyes. Another couple follows them. A man wearing a cowboy hat (why a cowboy hat at the beach???) and a girl with blue hair, who’s laughing. Next was an extremely tall boy carrying a girl with black hair on his shoulders. You softened a bit and were quite frankly jealous of the close group. You’d only had one relationship before, a fling over winter break with-

Grayson Hawthorne.

There’s no way it’s him. It’s impossible. You hadn’t seen him since last winter. You took off your sunglasses, thinking the lighting was playing tricks on you but no, this was Grayson in the flesh. You hated the way butterflies erupted in your stomach looking at him. The way you almost sighed in relief at the sight of no one with him. But you especially hated how he just cast you aside like you were a game.

You woke up to Grayson already getting dressed, buttoning up his white-collared shirt and tugging on his pants again. “Gray?” you murmur, still groggy. He looks at you, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “Sorry, I have to go.” You watch, confused, as he puts on his suit jacket. “Go? Go where?” He had been staying in your hotel room at the ski lodge the whole time you were there together. “I have to go.” You understood now but you wished you didn’t. He was leaving. For good. It didn’t even seem like he cared. “So that’s it?” you ask angrily. “You’re just leaving?” Grayson looks regretful, but he doesn’t deny it. “I’m sorry, but nothing good would come of us together. I did enjoy our time together, make no mistake.”

You were heartbroken. How could he? You thought you actually had something. A bond. A connection. You guess he didn’t feel the same. You huffed, laying back down. “Go, then.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Based on his expression, he’s not used to being dismissed. “Leave. But if you do, I never want to see you again.”

That was the last time you ever saw Grayson. Well, until today. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed you yet. You lay back down, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach.

Suddenly, you feel something hit you–a volleyball. You sigh, sitting up to look who it belongs to.

You’ve never regretted anything more.

Grayson was walking towards you, looking perfect as ever. You hated him a little more for it. That was why the sight of him made you crazy, right? Because you hated him…

He reaches for the ball at the same time as you because of course he did. Your fingers brush and he looks at you. “y/n?” he asks, softly. Your breath hitches at the sound of his voice. You debate denying it, but you know he recognizes you now and wouldn’t believe it. “Yes,” you reply, coolly. “Hello, Grayson.” He stares at you in disbelief for a moment before a voice–the boy with the brown hair–calls for him. “You good, Gray?”

“Yes, one second,” he calls back.

“You should go back to your family,” you respond, tone indifferent. Grayson nods slowly and picks up the ball. He stands up and looks at you for a moment as if waiting for you to ask him to stay. Well, that wasn’t happening. You lay down again, putting on your sunglasses and lounging on your back with your arms under your head. You watch Grayson through your peripheral vision as he jogs back to his family, and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten. Because of course Grayson Hawthorne still affected you.

And you hated it.

Right?

a/n: woo woo! my first x reader fic!! lowk might make it a series if people like it....

requests are open! if i get enough i'll make a writing sideblog!

#venus writes ✎ᝰ.#the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #libby grambs #maxine liu #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit

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midiosaamor · 7 months ago

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❪ ✦ ❫ 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘, grayson hawthorne.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: prince!grayson hawthorne × thief!fem! reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐘: sadly, king tobias hawthorne died under mysterious circumstances. no one in the kingdom knows why, nor how, but what they do know: is that the king—instead of giving his grandchildren his inheritance—he gave a small peasant it. avery grambs. the news quickly spread out to the kingdom, and luckily, into a little thief's hands. y/n courts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: royalty au, fluff, drinking/alcohol use, underage drinking, thievery, stealing, murder, blood and gore, romance, slow burn, opposites (yet similars(?)) attract, enemies to partners to lovers, they both fall so damn hard they can't even see when they started fallin, knife to throat, makining out, jameson hawthorne being jameson hawthorne, mention of death, em*ly laughlin, idk man i could go on in this series, probably actual proper grammar, use of capital letters, probably slow updates

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: ongoing (chapters are being made in GOOGLE DOCS before posting)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: idk man probably a lot

𝐀/𝐍: alr CHAT im gettin my game mode on in here. the inheritance games but royalty au, headcanon by @silly-little-gooses. there will be some jameson x avery, nash x libby, nash x alisa (?), and xander x max in here too SO! also i made the reader like a small little character because im too lazy to make a whole ass character about it Imao

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle @aaron-warner @reyreadersblog @urbanflorals @imaseabear

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒: none yet!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗: none yet.

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blaaaaa3451 · 3 months ago

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The Moon is Beautiful tonight<3

How many times do you think Our favourite characters looked up at the moon, wondering if there was more out there? How many times do you think Grayson Played the Violin or Piano; or swam as it shone down at him?

Or Nash, with a fire crackling warm in his Ranch, with Libby by his side?

Or Jameson, In the treehouse, looking at the damage and thinking of Emily's death?

Or Xander? Looking at how much Rebecca had changed throughout the years?

Avery? Hannah? Toby?

#spotify #lover boy #headcannons #the brothers hawthorne #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #grayson davenport hawthorne #jameson winchester hawthorne #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne x reader #xander blackwood hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash westbrook hawthorne #hannah rooney #avery grambs #avery kylie grambs #toby hawthorne #i miss them

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inmyheaddd · 2 months ago

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walkin’ out the door with your bags - part 4

⤷ “but what’s the rush? kissing, then my cheeks are so flushed.”

summary: grayson drives you home, and you can tell he isn’t feeling the best, so you insist the perfect remedy - on hosting an impromptu movie night while your roommate gigi is at her new boyfriends house! a/n: this takes place immediately after end of part 3!! warnings: little tiny sad grayson flashback, kissing, (friends to lovers is finally friends to lovering) wc: 4k masterlist || series masterlist — other parts!

…previously on part three

“ finally, after an intense game of eenie meenie miney mo —suggested by gigi, noah payed.

grayson reluctantly put his card back in his wallet, tucking it back in his pocket as noah flashed gigi a nervous smile.

when they caught eachother’s eyes, grayson offered noah a slight nod, almost of respect. noah returned it with a smile.

you and gigi once again glanced at eachother. in both your eyes, that seemed like a success.”

—

grayson was driving you home, the roads were bustling and crowded, and the ride was taking much longer than anticipated.

you weren’t staring— staring was a big stretch. you think taking notice, observing, perceiving, even, were all better words to describe what you were doing.

you were simply taking note of grayson’s features.

the way his jaw slightly clenched when someone’s bad driving annoyed him, the way his hands grip would momentarily tighten on the wheel, the way the soft dim lighting of the night interrupted by headlights passing and traffic lights coloured his face— not staring.

flashback - 12 years old…

maybe standing outside the huge hawthorne house with no plan at all wasn’t the best choice. your parents weren’t home, the house was empty, and you were bored out of your mind, and it was only 1pm!

so, 12 year old you did what sounded like the most fun: called grayson. annoying him was maybe your favorite past time.

you went straight in, not even waiting for him to say anything when he answered.

“hey grayson, do you wanna go hang out?”

the other end was silent for a moment. “excuse me?”

“you know, hang out?” you laughed like he’d been talking nonsense, “like, when two friends go somewhere and—“

“i know what hanging out means.” he cut you off, and you could hear the annoyance in his tone. he didn’t speak for a second, “… i suppose my schedule is free today.”

that was his way of saying yes. you rolled your eyes jokingly even though he couldn’t see you, what kind of 12 year old has a schedule?

“okay, i’m outside.”

“what?” he breathed out, sounding more shocked than ever. “sorry,” he corrected himself, and if your ears weren’t deceiving you, he almost sounded amused.

“what if i had said no?” he added.

you laughed softly into your phone, “well, i just knew you wouldn’t.” you said, “now hurry up, it’s freezing out here.”

you stood outside in the brisk air, and grayson came down no less than a minute later, opening the door and being met with your cold-air-flushed face.

you beamed, “grayson! hi!” it was muscle memory for you to hug your any of friends whenever you saw them — but you quickly stopped yourself, retracting your hands back to your sides awkwardly.

he raised a single eyebrow at you, “i spoke with you less than a minutes ago.” he deadpanned. “why are you so happy to see me?”

if it was anyone else, you would’ve felt severely judged. you suppose that was his intent, though, so you didn’t let it affect you.

“i’m not happy to see you, i’m just happy. stop trying to dull my spark, hawthorne.” you rolled your eyes as you both began to walk, the cold december air hitting you. “let me live.”

he muttered something under his breath about an “annoying glare, not a spark.”before handing you something. “take this.”

you looked down at what he was handing you, “what?” you said quietly.

you hadn’t even noticed before, but he had brought a sweater with him.

“you mentioned you were cold earlier,” he stated matter-of-factly. “please, take it.”

“oh,” you said, sounding too surprised at the casual action for your own liking.

“thanks,” warmth instantly spread over you as you put it on, and when you noticed some sort of rock band logo on it with lots of writing.

you furrowed your brows, did grayson have a complete closet change overnight?

“it’s not mine.” he said, eyes flickering back up to yours like he could read your thoughts. “it belongs to one of my brothers.”

“you wouldn’t want to spoil one of your precious hoodies on me?” you remarked sarcastically.

“i don’t own any hoodies.”

oh.

“wait,” you stopped in your tracks when you let that sink in, “not even a single one?”

he just blinked at you, “no.”

“why?”

“it’s not my preferred style.” he said like it was clear. i mean, of course grayson hawthorne of all people wouldn’t own a hoodie; it was kind of clear.

“okay well, our next stop is obvious,” you said, and graysons brows knit. “the mall! we need to get you some hoodies.”

based on the look on his face, you don’t think he liked that idea…

but he went anyway.

present…

you stopped infront of the red light, the colour sending a reddish hue over everything in the car.

grayson’s side profile was on full view, eyes not leaving the road as he broke the comfortable silence, “i may have misjudged his character.”

“hm?” you hummed, snapped out of the trance-like state you were in, as you looked more intently, trying to decipher at the emotion behind his eyes.

“noah.” he made himself clear, “i presumed him to be…” he trailed off, thumb running up and down the wheel methodically, “different. worse.”

you chuckled, “me and gigi both told you he was a good person,” you pointed out, “what, you think our taste is that bad?”

is lips turned up for a flash of a second, “no,” he said as he shook his head slightly, “that’s not what i meant to imply.”

“oh?” you said, leaning your head back against the head rest as your eyes stayed fixed on grayson’s face. “what was your intended affect then, hawthorne?”

his head turned, his eyes narrowing jokingly as they finally met yours for a moment, before going back on the road. there was almost a full smile on his face.

he redirected the conversation as he steered the wheel, “he seems like a nice fit for gigi.”

“aw,” you fake cooed, bringing a heartfelt hand to your chest. “you really think so?”

in all seriousness, though. the date had actually been much better than you had anticipated. gigi’s smile didn’t leave her face once.

you saw him side glance at you, “yes, i do.” he said, “that, however, does not mean i’m agreeing to one of these ‘double dates’ ever again.” he quickly reiterated, like he could read your next thought.

the way he said double dates made it seem like the last 2 hours were living hell for him.

you rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath, “don’t lie. i know the word fun isn’t in your dictionary, but i know you enjoyed yourself.”

“enjoy is a very large stretch.” he deadpanned, glancing at you momentarily.

“you had the best time ever. be honest.”

“it was bearable.”

“okay, sure. whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, you said, just before started you noticed the familiar turns, and before you knew it, the the car was parked infront your house. you could see the stars twinkling in the night sky through the dashboard window— stargazing was one of your favorite activities.

flashback - 12 years old…

after a semi-successful shopping trip — grayson bought 3 hoodies, a black, grey, and navy one (gosh, the variety!) — you came across one of your favorite ice cream spots as you walked back together. it was nearing 3pm now and there was, by some miracle, no one around.

the 50s theme of the this cream store always brought you a sense of comfort, even with its bright overhead lights. you smiled as you and grayson walked in and the bell on the door rang upon your entrance.

the conversation was dulling down, mostly consisting of you making dumb jokes or making fun of him, and him maybe cracking a tiny smile once every 45 minutes, if you were lucky.

you had a cup of cookies and cream ice cream in front of you, half eaten as you took your eyes to the photo booth placed in the corner of the store.

there were hundreds of photos stuck on the sides of it— so many faces, so many smiles, friends, families, couples.

you didn’t know any of their stories, but simply seeing them smile made you want to smile.

then, you took your eyes to the boy sitting in the chair in front of you: grayson.

he was sipping on his black coffee —that you relentlessly made fun of him for picking— but, the weird thing was that he was just… staring at you.

“what are you looking at?” you snorted, putting your spoon down in your ice cream and leaning back in the booth seat.

he shook his head slightly, “nothing.”

it wasn’t nothing, because then after a second, he spoke again. he put his cup down, “why’d you take us here? it’s essentially empty, and it’s the middle of winter.”

your cheeks flushed— only because of the cold air hitting you.

you shrugged with a sheepish smile, “i don’t know…” you trailed off, but you did know. “i kind of remembered you saying you haven’t tried ice cream, and i remember thinking in that moment, “i need to get this kid to have some ice cream.” then i saw this place, and thought, why not?”

he was silent for a moment, and a thousand thoughts overflowed in your mind.

“i said that 3 years ago.” he finally said, sounding surprised, and it was like you could see his guarded mask slowly slipping away.

“yeah,” you said, “i know.”

his eyes flickered between yours, and then he did one of his barely there smiles that made you want to squeal — how come he got to make you feel like that? it wasn’t fair.

“if it’s any relief to you,” he said half jokingly, “i went home that night and asked my older brother to get me ice cream.” he spoke with softness in his voice; you noticed it was always that way when he spoke about his siblings. “it wasn’t as bad as i had anticipated.”

you smiled softly at the emotion in his voice, “yeah, well, you’re literally drinking a specially made black coffee in an ice cream shop right now,” you stated. “so… my mission has failed, sort of.”

he narrowed his grey eyes slightly like he was in deep thought, before briefly glancing at the counter. a server sat behind it, bored and staring his phone.

he looked back at you and then stood up, heading towards the ice cream counter.

you gasped in mock amazement. truthfully though, you were actually pretty shocked. “grayson hawthorne, actually living his life a little? i can’t believe i’m witnessing this in real time. this is extraordinary.” you got up and stood beside him, looking at the ice cream flavors in front.

he offered you a side glance. “the possibility of me leaving is still very high.”

“oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “the possibility of me slapping you is very high.” oh, good comeback…

he seemed surprised at that, “oh, is that so?”

your cheeks flushed, but you stayed stubborn. “yes.” you didn’t look at him, but you could basically feel that stupid half smile of his. “now pick your ice cream already.”

he picked mint chocolate chip.

as you sat back down at your tables, you went right back to teasing him. “is this you attempting to be a little different, trying something new?” you asked teasingly as you sat down, with an oreo milkshake infront of you now. “i’m surprised you didn’t pick vanilla.”

he gave you that single eyebrow arch again. “why would that be?”

“because vanillas just… vanilla. and you’re so… you.”

his brows furrowed ever so slightly, and you could tell he was trying to keep his face completely unreactive. your heart suddenly felt 50 pounds heavier in your chest.

the next time he spoke, he hesitated. his expression actually looked like he was his age for once, not way beyond his years.

you always wondered if that was what other people forced him to be, or if it who he really was.

or, did they start to merge into the same thing at some point? that thought made your stomach feel cold.

“so you really think i’m,” he paused slightly as he found the words, “… boring?”

no, not actually, you wanted to say.

he was that one mystery you decided you wanted to uncover since the day you met him. he was funny when he wanted to be, and despite everything, he actually cared for what you had to say.

that was why you were here right now.

“oh yeah, for sure.” you grinned, nodding vigorously as grayson’s expression changed to one that looked less sad. “you’re about as interesting as a blank piece of paper.”

grayson seemed to have gotten the answer he was looking for. his smile slowly matched yours, “so i’ve been told.”

his eyes twinkled a little, you raised your eyebrows in a way to say, “shocker,” as you sipped from your straw, and then he laughed.

you joined in, your combined soft laughs being the only sound in the ice cream shop apart from the soft 50’s music, before his phone began to ring and interrupted the moment.

“sorry,” he said quietly, a hint of a smile still in his voice. “if you’ll excuse me.” he pressed the phone to his ear and answered promptly with, “grayson.”

you heard a loud voice from the other line, and it all you could roughly understand was:

“GRAYSON! why do you answer like that?we’ve missed you! …. xander… movie night… pillow fight … broke his arm…. where are you?”

whoever was on the other line said that and more all in the span of 30 seconds, and didn’t stop once.

grayson listened to every word intently, and his little expressions of frustration, shock, and sheer annoyance as he looked at a spot on the table, almost made you burst out laughing as you stared.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve kept yourself busy, make it any less obvious you were eavesdropping, but you couldn’t help but stare at him.

one thing was clear, though, and it made your heart feel fuzzy: he cared very deeply for whoever was on the other line, even if he didn’t show it.

“listen, jameson. i’m currently out, however—“

“you’re out? doing what?” you heard a laugh from the other person—his brother, jameson, —and grayson rolled his eyes.

“nothing that concerns you.”

you couldn’t stop the snort that followed at the sight of grayson so frustrated, and his eyes immediately flickered to yours.

“sorry,” you mouthed.

but to your surprise, grayson wasn’t glaring at you. if anything, he was holding your gaze with a glint of humour in his eyes, and he smiled at you as he held the phone to his ear.

you heard shuffling on the other end, and then shouts.

“xander! go call grayson on your own phone, and stop trying to steal mine!”

“but he blocked me after i kept yodeling in his voicemail! i need to—“

grayson ended the phone call just as promptly as he’d answered it.

he sighed, rubbing his temples, then you saw him power off his phone. he took a bite of his ice cream and then met your eyes. it looked like he almost paused when he did, maybe because you had been doing nothing but stare at him for the past few minutes. you’d probably be a little weirded out too.

“your brothers seem funny,” you commented, taking another sip of your milkshake.

he shook his head slightly, “i believe chaotic or headache inducing would be more fitting,” he put his spoon back down, “but, i suppose funny works.”

you laughed, “yeah, but you still love them.” you told him with your voice a little quiet, “more than anything, right?”

he nodded, “of course i do. they’re…” he trailed off trying to find the right way to put it, but there was just no better way to put it.

“they’re my family.”

present…

grayson cut the engine and got out of his side of the door, and walked around to yours to open it for you. it was a a small gesture, but it was one that made you pause slightly.

“thank you,” you muttered to him softly, and he nodded as he closed the car door behind you.

he walked you to the doorstep, and you both stood infront of the closed door.

“is gigi not home?” he asked, nodding his head towards the windows, and the fact that all of the lights were closed.

“yeah, she uh, she went home with noah.” you responded, pressing your lips together in a line momentarily.

grayson was really trying to be supportive, you could tell, but the way there was a slight tick in his jaw and his shoulders sense told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded once again, a slight clench in his jaw. “right.”

you chuckled as you hit his shoulder slightly, “relax, she’s really happy, gray. he’s not an axe murderer.”

“i know, i know that.” he said, as he combed a hair that fell into his face, back in its place with his hand.

“but?” you sensed.

“like i said before, with everything that’s happened in our lives… it’s hard to trust anyone fully.”

“it’s not that hard,” you shrugged, trying to ease the tension, because trust issues with was not a topic you wanted to delve into right now. “i trust you, and i know that you trust me. it’s easy.”

“of course, because we know eachother. i trust you more than most.“ grayson said, but the way he said the word ‘know’ felt like there was more to it, like it went deeper than just the fact that you ‘went way back’.

“yeah,” you sighed, understanding what he was getting at— but you still had to defend gigi. “and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.”

he didn’t speak for a moment, thinking before he finally spoke. “you’re right.” he almost sighed, his neck strained like he wanted to say more.

“… is she,” he paused, “is she truly happy?” he asked. you’d said it before, but maybe he just didn’t believe you.

you smiled, thinking about all the sleepless nights spent with gigi of her giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, sleepover sessions - even when you lived in the same apartment - with face masks as you laughed and talked about life. she was happier than you’d ever seen her, healed from the things she wouldn’t quite tell you about.

“yeah, gray.” you said softly, “she is happy.”

he tore his eyes away from you, nodding as he looked at the floor. “that’s good, she deserves it.”

after a moment of silence standing under your door, you grinned, trying to take away that pained look on his face as you changed the subject. “you know, earlier that was the second time you’ve said i’m right today. i’m sort of on a streak.”

the tension broke away from his face as a slow grin spread across his face. “i’ve began to think; when are you not right?”

“pretty much never.” you put your hand on the door handle, smiling up at him. “and another one of my perfect, right ideas, is that having a movie night will make you feel infinitely better and stop your overthinking.”

you cracked the door open further as you took a step in, and he quirked a brow up. “i have no room to say no, i assume?”

“oh please,” you scoffed, “you don’t even want to say no.” grayson walked in, and you were already making your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

he shut the door behind him, and you couldn’t see it, but a smile stretched across his face. he shook his head and exhaled a long breath, just before you called out to him.

“i’m going to go do my skincare now, you can pick the movie this time!”

—

you stood infront of your bathroom mirror, rubbing your cleanser in circular motions on your face. you hummed to yourself, with no particular song in mind.

you were recalling the whole night in your head, a replay of your favorite moments, and how even the car ride back was fun.

you wondered what gigi was doing right now, if she was feeling the same sense of happiness.

before you could dwell on that any longer, a soft knock against your bathroom door cut through your thoughts. you splashed water on your face and washed away your face wash.

“come in!”

the door opened softly, revealing grayson on the other side without his suit jacket on, white sleeves rolled up to his forearms for more comfort.

“are you nearly done?” he asked softly, shoulders leaning against the door frame. not in a way to rush you, or with any sense of annoyance, but because he was genuinely getting bored without you there.

“almost,” you said as you squeezed out your serum into your hands.

then you realised you were only on the first step of your routine, ”actually…” you mumbled as you looked at your hands, “this might take a while.”

when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was looking at you in the strangest way, in a way you’d never seen him look at you before, and let out a breath of a chuckle.

grayson was still standing oddly in the doorframe, though you doubt odd was the right word, you said. “you can um, come in, if you want.”

he walked in, the door shutting softly behind him as he stood next to you behind the sink.

he picked up the serum you had just put down, and began to read the ingredients on the back of your skincare as you finished up. he offered a slight hum of approval.

that must’ve been a good sign you weren’t burning your skin off.

grayson turned an unlabeled green tube to you. “what’s this?”

you hummed, taking your eyes to the product. “oh, that’s a face mask. the label somehow just rubbed off.” you answered half-paying attention.

you took your eyes back to the mirror, before they quickly snapped back

“wait.” you piped up. “i have an ideaaaa.”

grayson raised a brow as you turned around, “i’ve learned to not trust your ideas.” he said, almost sighing. “what is it?”

you pulled out a pink fluffy headband, one that had bunny ears. “here, wear this.”

“i am not wearing that.”

2 minutes later, grayson davenport hawthorne was wearing a pink headband, with pink eye patches underneath his stormy eyes, and a green face mask on.

he insisted on applying it himself.

he also insisted on washing it off just as quick as he had applied it.

and of course, you were laughing the entire time. he grumbled something under his breath about, “the things i do for you.”

—

now, you and grayson sat on your couch, opposite ends, a meter ish or so apart. you were halfway through the first movie of the ‘before’ trilogy. there were no lights in your living room apart from the lit candles and the large tv with the movie playing, the room a mix of golden and blue light.

you yawned, reaching for your cold water bottle to help you stay awake.

the icy water you drank didn’t help though, and you could feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.

why were they so goddamn heavy?

maybe it was the sleep talking, but grayson hawthorne’s arms looked extra inviting tonight.

you shook lightly your head at the thought. you felt grayson look at you in confusion from the corner of your eye, if you were him, you’d be thinking, “is this girl schizophrenic… why is she shaking her head?”.

you wanted to laugh out loud at that thought, but then you’d look downright mental. you placed you water bottle back on the table infront of you.

you propped your elbow on the armrest of the sofa, your head resting in your hands.

as the two main characters in the movie talked on a train, your eyelids were begging to close. your head shot up slightly every time you’d reopen them, willing yourself to stay awake.

you took your arm off the armrest and sat with your knees on the sofa, curling up slightly to the other side.

i’m just going to my eyes for a 5 minutes, you told yourself, i’m not even tired.

you stayed true to your word, and your eyes opened 5 minutes later.

only, you weren’t resting on your hand anymore— you were on grayson’s chest, and one of his arms were around you.

you hummed in confusion, using all your energy to get yourself off of grayson’s chest. you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, elbows rested on your knees and face in your hands as you leaned slightly forward.

you took your eyes to the tv in your confused, sleepy state and realised something: the credits were rolling.

maybe it wasn’t just 5 minutes.

grayson watched you in amusement - only really seeing you from the side and back, “we can turn off the movie, if you’d like. it’s getting late.”

“oh, no. it’s okay,” you attempted to stifle a yawn, but you failed.

“i’m sorry,” you turned your head to look at him, “your movie choice wasn’t boring, i swear,” you giggled, your voice sleepy as you nearly zoned out and fell asleep again.

“i’m just so exhausted.” you said finally, turning to face him with a small smile on your face. “today was so much fun.”

“it was alright, wasn’t it?” he replied, and you saw the corner of his lips turn up a little.

you blinked at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “grayson hawthorne having fun and admitting it,” you chuckled slightly, “who would’ve thought i’d live to see the day?” you nudged him with your elbow, and a smile finally split on his face.

“you know i always enjoy myself with you, i don’t need to say it.”

“i know,” you said softly as you turned to look at him, the dim candlelight making his eyes look warmer than ever. “it’s still nice to hear, though.”

“then i’ll tell you more often.”

your heart did a somersault. “okay, deal.” you hadn’t noticed, but he had sat up fully now — closer to you, and you felt yourself wanting the space between you to be even less. “i tell you my amazing jokes, and you tell me how amazing i am to be around.”

his eyes traveled your face, “i’d tell you regardless.” he said.”you’re an extraordinary person with a mind like no other. i often find myself fascinated by you.” god, only grayson hawthorne could give compliments that made you feel like you and him were the only people existing.

“you really think so?” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

“i know so,” he murmured quietly, “and i know you.” at this point, every nerve in your body was screaming for you to break those few inches between you and just kiss the boy already.

you didn’t, though.

it looked like grayson was facing the same internal dilemma as you, because his eyes were on your lips far too much for it to just be friendly. he leaned in slightly, and you felt your own breath hitch.

you whispered against his lips, “what are we doing?”

“we can stop,” he said. “we should stop.”

he didnt sound like he wanted to stop.

in fact, he didn’t even look like it, with the way his eyes were so trained in your lips.

you hesitated for a second. all the times you’d spent with grayson played on a loop in your mind, like all the time waiting, not understanding your feelings, and loving him silently were suddenly so worth it.

“i’ve never been too good at should.”

you noticed his lips twitch upwards at your words, just before he finally pressed them to yours. the way his breath hitched did not go unnoticed.

the kiss was soft and tentative as you finally crossed the border you’d been tiptoeing around for the past few years.

one of his hands moved to hold your jaw, the other steady on your waist. they felt cold yet somehow comforting.

maybe this was what you needed.

he began to lean forward into the kiss, his weight shifting until you feel him pressing down slightly. you let yourself fall back and feel the couch arm against your shoulders as he kept leaning, his arms bracing on either side of you.

he was close, closer than before, closer than ever with his chest almost brushing yours, but for some reason, neither of you stopped.

until you remembered: oh, right. oxygen.

when you pulled back you were breathing heavily, both of you were.

your whole body felt like it was on fire,

you never understood what people meant by their face feeling hot or knowing that they were blushing, but now you got it.

you just hoped you didn’t look as flushed as you felt.

your hands quickly moved up to his face, pulling him down into another kiss again.

it was like, now that you knew how it felt, you had to keep having it.

you were addicted to grayson hawthorne’s lips.

and by the looks of it, he was addicted to you too.

this time, when he pulled back, you propped yourself up on your elbows and fully let yourself breathe.

“was that—“ grayson hesitated, “are you alright?”

here you had grayson davenport hawthorne, sitting right next to you on your couch, with ever so slightly messy hair and flushed lips, asking you if you were alright.

“yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, “yeah, i’m alright.”

grayson’s smile almost matched yours after you said that, “i’m glad,” he said.

“are we…” you trailed off, not knowing exactly what to ask. especially with grayson’s gaze so focused on you— your mind felt blurry.

“are we going to finish the movie?” you managed to come up with; the next installment of the trilogy you had started to watch with him already began to play.

“you’re tired,” he answered, grey eyes cutting through yours, but they still felt soft somehow. “you should sleep, get some rest.”

“yeah,” you nodded, mind hazy, barely hanging onto his words. you really were tired.

“you couldn’t possibly understand how long i’ve wanted to do that.” he let the words fall off his lips, eyes trailing down to your mouth before he looked all around your face.

“do what?” you knew exactly what.

his eyes focused on yours. “kiss you.”

your cheeks reddened, but you couldn’t not tease him.

“i mean, how long, exactly? a timeframe would be nice, maybe, or even like a rough estimate—“

you cut yourself off at the sound of his low chuckle as he shook his head, as he ran his hand over his mouth.

you felt like you could skip through a million fields, jump up and down for days, and at this rate, never stop smiling. you were so keenly aware of your heartbeat, of every nerve ending buzzing with energy.

“sorry, i just…” you cut yourself off with a laugh, you seemed to be finding eveyrthing funny. you weren’t sure if that was the lovesick haze in your mind or the lack of sleep making you delirious.

“i’ve also, um. you know…” talking about your feelings was never easy for you, even when it was with someone you knew better than anyone. “wanted to— i mean, i’ve liked you.”

he slightly narrowed his eyes jokingly, “you don’t seem that assured of yourself there.” he deadpanned, making you push away his shoulder playfully.

“stop,” you mumbled, hiding your face with your hands for a second. “you know better than anyone i can’t say talk about my feelings like that without wanting to throw up.”

his eyes softened even further, even though you were taking a humorous tone and chuckled at the end. “i know.”

the corners of your lips turned up slightly, for no real reason other than how happy you felt, “

“i should leave, it’s late. gigi will be coming home soon.”

“yeah,” you nodded as you ran a hand through your hair, “you probably should.”

“i wouldn’t like to,” he specified, “but, it’s more sensible.”

“yeah. sensible.” you nodded once again, “sensible is good, you’re right. it’s really late.” you laughed for no reason, not even too sure if the words that were spilling out made any sense.

you said goodbye at the door once again, and this time, you felt brave enough to his kiss his cheek goodbye. the action took a lot of courage, even though he had practically been on top of you 30 minutes prior.

it was actually time for you to go to bed now, and you rolled over relentlessly. you couldn’t count how many times you replayed the moment over and over in your head.

you brought a hand to your mouth as you fought a smile.

grayson, the boy you’d known since forever. his lips, yours.

seriously, what was your life?

part 5

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

@midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear

@clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams

@hermesenthusiast

#𝜗𝜚 walking out the door with your bags series #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #the grandest game #grayson hawthorne imagine #grayson hawthorne x you #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #tig #tgg #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson hawthorne headcanons #games untold #the brothers hawthorne #gigi grayson #avery kylie grambs #❦ jude writes

153 notes · View notes

f4iry-bell · 5 months ago

Text

kissy face (literally)

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

type: blurb, fluff.

tagging: @clarissaweasley-10 @whatsamongus @emelia07 @sheisntyou (lmk if you want to be in jameson taglist or any other taglist)

warning: lowercase (intended)

a/n: 🤭i want him.

masterlist

you and jameson decided it is a good idea to hangout with his brothers and their girlfriends since it has been so long since all of you were together. jameson already got ready before you and waited on the bed while you were doing your makeup. you removed your previous makeup look because you thought it was too much for a drive and just applied red lipstick that suited your undertone perfectly.

once you were done applying you walked to the bed. “im ready. sorry it took some time.” you apologised.

“no worries. i don't mind, you can take another hour even, and id happily watch you get ready. it's so satisfying to watch you get ready, you know?” he said which made you smile ear to ear.

“aw, aren't you too sweet?” you sat next to him and kissed his cheeks forgetting the fact that your lipstick is not transfer proof. “oh, im sorry. ill grab a tissue.” you were about about get up but jameson grabbed your hand.

“why?” he asked.

“um lipstick stain.” you pointed and you blushed at the sight of your boyfriend's cheeks with your lipstick mark.

“you like it, don't you?” he asked with a smirk.

“it's cute.” you scrunch your nose.

“well my other cheek feels lonely now.” he asked something without actually asking.

you knew what to do and kissed his right cheek leaving a stain there as well. but you didn't just stop there, you kissed his forehead and right below his left eye, right eye, chin and just all over his face.

jameson is a very confident and sometimes cocky person, but right now he was a blushing mess with your hand on his neck kissing face all over and then to his neck leaving faded lipstick stains.

he was about to pull you onto his lap to make out but you both were interrupted by xander who doesn't know when to knock.

“woah, what did I just walk into?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“privacy?” jameson said.

“gray is getting annoyed, be down before he starts seeing red.”

“I'll grab the wet tissues.” you said after xander left.

“or i could just spend the rest of the day with my girlfriend’s kisses all over my face and neck.” he smiled.

“you're not going to do that, are you?” you asked with widened eyes.

“i would, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. but you don't want me to, do you?”

“no. this look, only i can see it.”

#the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #the grandest game

86 notes · View notes

littlemissmentallyunstable · 2 months ago

Note

HIII OK SO THIS IS A REALLY SPECIFIC REQ SO IF U CANT DO IT THEN ITS ALL GOOD

COULD U DO AVERY X BESTFRIEND!READER (PLATONIC OFC) WHERE HER BESTGRIEND IS LIKE A SINGER / ACTRESS

MAYBE THE READER JS GOING THROUGH A ROUGH SPOT W JAMESON AND AVERY COMFORTS HER.

JUST SOME BESTIE LOVE YK

hi!! I’m SO SO SO SO SO SO INSANELY sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to this request it was literally requested on the 20th of august and I feel so bad!! but I finally finished and I hope you enjoy

title: she’s always there

pairing: avery x bestfriend!reader (platonic)

synopsis: after a fight with jameson you know you need avery at your side to make things right again

warnings: mild swearing

a/n: three months too late but I didn’t forget you, hope you enjoy anon :))

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast

The door slams shut. The sound echoes through my ears, bouncing around my head, a painful reminder of all that had just exploded. I stumble forwards, my fingers shaking on the doorknob. I want to run to him but my legs are stuck in an invisible cement. So my body gives way and I crumble to the floor.

Tears blur my vision as I shake in a pathetic heap. My chest hurts with each ugly sob. I hate fighting, but I hate this even more. This pain, this agony. I sob harder until my throat is so raw only cracked sounds come out.

I stay there for what feels like hours, maybe even days. I’m heavy with exhaustion and grief. I know I need to get up but I don’t move. I can’t will myself out of this position. Fear flickers in the pit of my stomach. Why can’t I get up? I have no energy, no motivation.

Nothing, I feel nothing.

But even the dread of feeling nothing doesn’t even pull me from the numbness. My skin is thickened with a layer of senselessness. I’m too weighted by my own sadness to move. This happened before, this happened last time, this couldn’t happen again.

I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. The sound almost deafening. I’m taking sharp jagged breaths that I can’t control. I need Avery.

I need her more than anything right now. She promised me if things got bad again that she would be one call away. And she made me promise that I’d call her. I couldn’t break my promise, I’m not a person who breaks their promises.

But I haven’t seen her in weeks and what if she only thinks I call her when I’m struggling? What if she thinks I’m using her? What if she gets tired and just walks out like everyone else?

I usually block out ‘the before’. But I can remember snippets, like how I couldn’t to get out of bed, to get off of the floor, to move, to eat, to take care of myself and how I felt then I’m starting to feel now. An icy coolness is pulsating through my veins, so sharp that I can’t feel it anymore.

My phone is next to my face. I can see it. But my finger feels like they’re being dragged down my a large iron ball and chain. I can’t even reach my phone for my emergency contact. My hollow chest begins to throb.

“Call Avery,” I whisper to my phone, “please call Avery. I need her.”

One ring. Tw-

“Ave,” I murmur, my voice shaking.

She replies almost instantly, “what’s wrong?”

She’s sharp, she’s ready, she’s immediate. She’s going to help me pull myself together, I tell myself.

“I need you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say other than the truth. I can’t sugarcoat anything now. I’m not fine. I can’t move.

“I’m coming,” Avery tells me.

“It’s getting bad again,” I snivel the words just blurting out before there’s enough time for them to be filtered

I feel her freeze for a moment, “bad?”

“I’m stuck on the floor,” I mumble, my throat hoarse and sore, “I can’t move.”

“Just wait there okay,” she comforts, “I’m coming.”

“My life is a mess,” I ramble, not being able to stop myself. I’ve lost control, over my mind, over my body, over my words.

“I’ll be over in two minutes okay, stay on the line with me,” she says urgently.

“I’m sorry,” I say choking out another sob, “I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” she says firmly but with kindness behind her tone, “just sit tight and I’m coming.”

“Okay,” I exhale, trying to ignore the lump growing in my throat.

“What happened?” she asks so softly I just want to melt into even more of a puddle of a human being. I’m halfway there, my limbs sprawled every which way, my tearstained face covered by a curtain of hair.

“Everything went wrong,” I tremble, not knowing how else to describe it. The scene plays out in the mind again and again, a pitiless record of pain on loop.

“What’s everything?” Avery asks, her voice so mellow, so gentle, so calm.

“Jameson.”

His name sends a twinge of pain across my chest.

“Oh sweetie I’m sure it’s okay,” she says, “it’s normal for couples to fight.”

“Not like this,” I shake my head as if she can see me.

“Let me in and we’ll talk about it,” she says.

“You’re outside?” I ask my voice opting for the tone of a vulnerable child. She’d arrived faster than I thought she would.

“Yes,�� she confirms.

“Door’s unlocked,” I murmur, the words kind of slurring into one another as I said them.

“I might get a speeding ticket tomorrow but it’ll be worth it,” the door opens, “besides Alisa will probably be able to get me out of it.”

“Mmmm,” I respond, feeling tired, each of my limbs weighing me down as if they were made of lead.

“Sweetie you need to stand up,” she tells me gently, I can feel her hand running up and down my arm rhythmically.

“I can’t,” I wheeze, everything was so heavy it ached.

“You can,” Avery replies, “I’m going to help you.”

“I’m tired,” I groan, my vision blurring as my eyelids fall shut.

“Then we can go to bed,” she says.

My lips quiver, “Avery?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“I can’t stand up,” I whisper, the ghost of my voice vibrating against my throat, “I can’t do it.”

“Here then let’s sit up first,” she says.

Slowly she helps me into a sitting position. The world feels a little hazy. My head rolls backwards and thumps on the wall, it’s too heavy to hold up.

A flicker of pain spreads across the back of my head, the first real feeling in my state of numbness. She wraps her arms around me and I fall into her softly crying. I don’t know if it’s the pain in my head or the pain in my heart endorsing the tears but I don’t care.

She holds me tightly and tenderly as if she might never let go. I fear if she does I’ll fall apart and break into millions of pieces on the floor that can never be put back together again. My entire body shakes as my tears dampen my best friend’s shirt.

“Come on,” she says slowly, helping me to my feet after a long bout of silence.

I don’t want to move but my legs are willed too having obtained pins and needles from my static state. I don’t know how she managed to get me thinking about something other than my absence of feeling, allowing me to walk, but she did. We slump down on the sofa together and I curl up into her grip. I don’t want to let Avery go, not when my mind is retelling the story.

“What is your problem with me?” I scoff, putting the dishes into the cupboard not really meeting his eyes.

He’d been offish all through dinner, the one chance we actually had to spend time with each other and of course he picks that moment to be mad.

“My problem?” he says, with a bitter laugh, “you want to know my problem?”

“That is what I just said isn’t it?” I quip back, a bit snarky.

“Where are you half the time?” he asks, a degree of hurt in his voice that makes my heart twist.

I stare at him, dumbfounded as my brain registers the question, “what?”

“I never see you anymore,” Jameson tells me, “I mean any longer without you and I feel like I’m going to forget your face.”

“You do see me,” I reply curtly.

“No I don’t and you know it,” he snaps, a wild looking shining through his emerald eyes.

“Jamie I can’t help my schedule,” I sigh, putting my hands on my hips, “I didn’t choose this.”

“Maybe you didn’t but you’re not trying to do anything about it,” he accuses me.

“I am!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air.

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head, “you’re not doing anything and it’s not fair.”

“Give it a month and-“

“No! I’m tired of waiting,” he says, desperation bleeding into his voice, “it’s always next month this and next week that, I’m sick and tired of waiting for us.” he runs a hand through his unruly hair, “isn’t love meant to come first?”

“I need a job,” I say in a low voice, “I need money Jameson.”

“I’ll give you money,” he groans a pleading look in his features.

“You don’t understand,” I yell, “I need to make this for myself.”

“Why?” he shouts, “I could give you anything you ever wanted!”

“I wanted to earn something, not just be given it,” I try to explain.

“You’ve earned everything you need to,” he presses on.

“Acting is what I love to do Jamie,” I tell him, the passion seeping into my voice, “these auditions are what I love to do.”

“I thought you loved me,” he shoots back.

“I do,” I exhale, “you know I do.”

Jameson shakes his head with a bitter and slightly pained sort of smile, “it feels like all you care about is this stupid work of yours.”

My eyes are squinted shut. I’m trapped in a memory I hate, held captor in a prison of my mind’s own making.

“Talk to me,” Avery whispers, “I’m here.”

“Jamie hates me, I barely see you, I overwork, I can’t sleep, all my auditions are going horribly and I’m just messing everything up-“ I ramble, my voice becoming thicker and thicker with emotion with each word.

“Hey,” she says softly, “just breathe.”

“I can’t, it’s like everything is coming at me all at once and I can’t handle it,” I choke, “I feel like I’m drowning Avery and every time I kick up to the surface another wave takes me out again. It’s this cycle that I can’t make my way out of.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she soothes, “just try for me and ignore all of it for a second and just look into my eyes.”

I meet her gentle hazel eyes, but they blur as tears fill my vision.

“Think about us,” she says, “right now. Me and you together, talking to each other. Focus on the present, stop thinking about the future and the past.”

My mind quiets a little, the raging storm of black clouds and loud sounds begins to dim down into a low hum. It’s still there but less. It’s better. A feel a spark of hope pulsate through my veins, previously darkened by hopelessness.

“Feeling a little better?” she tilts her head to the side.

“A little,” I nod hesitantly. I don’t want to speak too soon, there is still time for things too get much much worse.

“That’s good,” she smiles, “that’s really good.”

I exhale slowly, a little shakily. I lean further into Avery and her arms naturally wrap around me. I’m in the safety and warmth of her arms, her soft touch.

“I’ve got you,” she reminds me, “and when you’re ready, just talk and I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know where to start,” I laugh, buts it’s a forced laugh that I soon regret as if makes my throat ache.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Jameson?” she suggests.

“You’re being so pathetic,” I snap, rolling my eyes.

“And you’re being selfish,” he exclaims.

I stop in my tracks and spin to face him, “for wanting to make something of myself for my life? I’m not you, Jameson. I didn’t get everything handed to me on a golden platter.”

Hurt flashes across his face.

“You think I haven’t worked for what I am today?” he barks, “you think I was just given all of this?”

“I’m just saying it’s not as simple as you think it is,” I groan, trying to walk away.

He stands in front of me, looking deep into my eyes, his tone softens, “I would move the sun and the stars just to spend time with you,” anger clouds his features, sending an overcast of fury to his eyes, “but I don’t see you trying to change anything to see me.”

“I have tried,” I tell him, “but it’s really difficult Jameson and I’m exhausted,”

“Exhausted of what? Of this, of our relationship,” he snaps, quick to jump to some ridiculous conclusion.

“Are you drunk?” I laugh.

“Why do you always think I’m drunk?” he shoots back, venom on his tongue.

“Because you’re spouting nonsense,” I reply, raising my voice a little.

“Of course, of course,” he rolls his eyes in his bout of sarcasm, “I’m the one who’s spouting nonsense.”

“What do you want me to do Jameson?” I ask, a lump growing in my throat, “drop everything for you?”

“Love comes with sacrifices,” he shrugs in response.

“So what I’m meant to sacrifice my entire passion?” I scoff.

He couldn’t be serious.

“No I’m just asking you to at least attempt to make more time,” he says, “I mean don’t you miss me like I miss you?”

“Of course I miss you,” I sigh.

“Then why don’t you show it?” he asks and I can see how much it wounds him, “you’re a closed book around me now. I used to be able to read you so well but now it’s like a blank page.”

“How would you know, I thought you didn’t see me anymore?” I bite back.

“We got into a fight,” I whisper, memories flooding back.

“A bad one?” Avery says carefully, like she’s treading on eggshells.

“He left,” I shrug.

“Asshole,” she mutters in my defence.

“No,” I shake my head, sitting back up to face her, “I was horrible, I would’ve left me.”

Beat.

“But he was horrible too,” I sniff.

“People say things they don’t mean in fights,” Avery points out, reaching to touch my arm.

“Or they say what they’re really thinking,” I blurt out, my mind is too consumed by my own thoughts to filter what I’m saying.

“More often than not it’s things they don’t mean, trust me,” she says, a tenderness in her voice that makes my heart squeeze, “besides Jameson can be a real impulsive idiot sometimes.”

“I love that about him,” I chuckle snivelling slightly, “but… it’s just that lately things haven’t been the same between us.”

“How so?”

“I’m leaving,” Jameson snaps. He’s finally had enough, he’s finally walking out on me. Of course. How could I possibly think someone could really love me as much as he said he did.

“Where are you going?” I ask, a sudden panic clawing at my chest overriding all of the built up anger and resentment.

“Why do you care?” he shrugs, grabbing his keys swiftly.

“Because I love you, you idiot!” I yell.

He stops and slowly turns around. Our eyes connect and for a split second deja vu washes over me and we’re meeting for the first time. I’m falling in love with his enchanting green eyes.

“Do you?” he asks, “really?”

“You’re being such an idiot right now,” I scrunch up my face as I shout, “I hope you know that.”

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and get drunk and spout nonsense like I usually do,” he says, “according to you.”

“Oh come off of it,” I scream, a sudden surge of pure rage appearing.

“What?”

“Stop acting like mr high and mighty on your high horse,” I snarl, “it’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair, what you’re doing to me,” he barks, “I’m in limbo here, I don’t know whether you’re coming or going, the only time I see you is when I leave this house and you’re asleep.”

“Then wake me up,” I deadpan, arms folded.

“And make you even more exhausted?” he scoffs, “fat chance!”

“I’m giving you solutions and you’re just deterring them,” I exclaim.

“Because you know they’re stupid solutions,” he explodes.

“Well life is just keeping us apart. I’m always at auditions, he’s off with his brothers, then when I come home he’s asleep and I can’t sleep and then when I finally sleep, he wakes up,” I blubber, “we’re not getting enough time to be with each other and I’m trying so hard to make time, but I don’t have the energy because I’m so exhausted from everything else.”

“And that’s okay, that’s understandable,” she reassures me, “he’s probably just frustrated because he doesn’t get to spend time with you, that shows he loves you, right? Someone who didn’t wouldn’t experience these feelings.”

“I suppose,” I shrug, “but Avery you should have seen him. He was so mad when he walked out. It’s the biggest fight we’ve ever been in.”

“I’m sure things will get better, they always do,” she soothes, “I mean think about to your last fight, how long did that last?”

Barely a few hours, I recall. Jameson and I had never fought for long in our relationship. It was so hard to stay so mad at someone I loved so much.

“What if it’s different this time?” I murmur, imagining the worst.

“It’s not,” Avery says, “trust me.”

“He was just so mad,” I say, biting my lip, “I’ve never seen him look at me like that.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Avery tells me gently, “whatever the outcome is, I’ve got you the whole way.”

“Thanks Ave,” I try to smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes, “he doesn’t get it, he thinks he does, but he doesn’t.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s getting so angry,” she suggests.

“I wish he would just let me explain,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.

“Why don’t you just communicate that to him?” she says.

“Because I have no time to!” I exclaim, not meaning to sound so defensive and snappy, “I just need to get through this month and then everything will be back to normal.”

“Sweetheart, I think you need to make some time to talk to him,” Avery says earnestly, “in this month. Explain this all to him, otherwise he’s going to keep building up all this anger for no reason and things are going to get worse.”

“Why is he so angry?” I ask in frustration, meaning for the question to be rhetorical.

“Because he doesn’t like not seeing you,” she replies, “he loves you.”

He love me. He loves me. He loves me. The words echo around my head relentlessly.

“I’m stupid,” I say, letting my head hit Avery’s shoulder.

“You’re not stupid,” she replies, putting her arm around me and rubbing small circles on my shoulder with her thumb.

“He hates me,” I mumble into her.

She shakes her head, “he doesn’t hate you.”

“It’s always the same with you, you always want more-“

“I want to see you,” Jameson yells, “is that so much to ask?”

“I will never be enough, you can’t just take me for who I am, what I am, what I need,” I shout back.

“What about what I need?” he questions, “I need to see you and it’s driving me crazy when we’re apart.”

“You need to find a coping mechanism then,” I reply, snarky and spiteful.

He looks at me with a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before. Pure unadulterated hatred. Like he wants me to burn on a thousand spikes after a session of torture.

“Fuck you,” he spits at me, his face so close to mine I can feel his anger.

“Piss off,” I hiss back.

“I will thank you very much,” he replies, swinging the door open.

“And don’t come home,” I snap, “I don’t want to see your face.”

“It’s not like you’ll notice, you don’t see my face anyway,” he calls, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What if this time he doesn’t come back,” I murmur, frightening myself more and more it’s each drastic thought that pops into my head.

“He will come back,” she soothes, continuing to rubbing small circles on my arm, “he always comes back to you.”

She has a point. Jameson always came back, he just needs time to cool off. I hope…

“You’re stronger than you think,” she whispers in my ear, like she can hear the doubts screaming in my brain.

“I don’t feel it,” I grumble.

“That’s what makes you even stronger,” Avery says.

“I’m crying over a boy,” I deadpan.

“Who hasn’t been there?” she smiles, wiping my tears away, “now come on, I’ll get the ice cream tubs, you grab the endless flow of blankets and pillows and we’ll have a movie night.”

I crack a small smile and nod as we stand up. She begins to walk while my legs struggle to follow.

“Avery,” I say, taking a small step forwards.

She spins around with a bright smile, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I exhale, “so much.”

sorry there haven’t been a lot updates lately I’ve been super busy 🤍🤍

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