#inheritance games x reader

[jahayla-parker]

Rebellious Rivals : Jameson Hawthorne x Reader

Descr: 3.2k wc, Jameson is determined to help his longtime ‘rival’ learn how to let go and relax, will he get his way? Flirty, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, unspoken crush(es), fluff.

Warnings: flirty Jameson, suggestive content, implications of smut but NO actual smut, light drinking, bets, I think that’s all

“Look at you, you're just begging for someone to put you in your place,” Jameson chimed in as he sauntered onto the balcony. He let his eyes wander her body momentarily before he caught her gaze. She’d clearly dressed for the occasion as was expected of her, but her presence anywhere but the dining hall showed her faint rebellious side. As did the drink in her hand and the way she was standing far too close to the edge of the balcony.

"And you think you can handle that?” Y/n retorted with a scoff. She shook her head, taking another sip of her champagne. “You're cute. I could have you on your knees in a heartbeat. It would suit you."

"You think about that image a lot?" Jameson implored with a smug grin.

"What?! No. God!.. Don’t flatter yourself. You bought it up." Y/n huffed, making Jameson chuckle. She glared at him sharply. She took a big drink of her beverage when he raised his hands up with pretend innocence.

“I can't help it, you're fun to mess with,” Jameson murmured, walking closer. He took a swig of his own drink as he leaned against the wall to her right.

“What do you want?” She asked, voice dripping with annoyance. She’d been enjoying her escape from the rich snobs down the hall. But of course, Jameson Hawthorne just had to show up and ruin it. The way he always did. She turned to fully face him for the first time since he arrived, only for her eyes to quickly take in his appearance. His suit jacket was unbuttoned immodestly far down, the familiar scar of his slightly peaking out past the low collar. She was one of the few people who actually knew how he obtained it. Not because they were friends. But because she’d commented on it with an unintentional backhanded remark, meaning to simply call him out on his carelessness, only to learn the truth of the mark’s origins. That had been the first time she considered there might be actual depth to Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Something beyond his riches, smug attitude, and dangerously good looks. As such, despite both Grayson and Alisa warning her not to trust, much less fall for, a Hawthorne the sight was somewhat comforting. The fact Jameson somehow nearly always wore a low cut shirt, or no shirt at all, whenever she was around made the sight familiar and the meaning behind the scar made her feel oddly more comfortable around him. Even if the sight of his toned bare chest made her heart flutter in a way she truly despised.

“Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?" Jameson questioned flirtatiously. His honey-coated voice bringing her thoughts back to the present moment.

She groaned, tossing back the rest of her drink. “Go away Jameson,” she ordered weakly. She walked away from him and back into the attached empty room, sitting on the unnecessarily expensive couch.

“Where would the fun be in that?” He remarked rhetorically as he plopped down beside her. He chuckled to himself as he watched her glare at him before lowering herself onto the floor. Once she’d settled on lying down on the ground instead of remaining beside him on the couch, he smirked. “I don’t bite”.

Y/n glanced up at him. “I don’t believe that,” she sassed, lifting her arms out in front of her as she lay flat on the wooden floor in front of him. She turned her eyes away from him and towards her phone as she reviewed her calendar for tomorrow.

Jameson’s eyes took on a playful glow as he shrugged, nudging her with his dress shoe. “Well, unless you’re wanting me to,” he winked down at her.

Her heart sped up against her will yet again. The same way it had moments before when he’d teasingly suggested she wanted him in his knees. The same way it always did whenever he’d flirt with her like this. Her stupid heart always acted against her logic. Jameson was just playing her. Besides, he was everything she despised, wasn’t he? Hoping to brush off his insinuation before her face flushed, she glared over at him briefly before turning back to her phone as she continued to hold it up above her.

Jameson took note of the slight pink hue her cheeks took on at his latest flirtation. He suppressed an amused laugh. He leaned down and stole her phone from her hands.

“Jameson!” She shouted, abruptly pushing herself off the floor and standing before him.

“Princess, if you’re wanting to scream my name, there are far more enjoyable things we can do to make that happen,” Jameson winked, sliding her phone into his back pocket.

She huffed, arms crossed over her chest. The way the action made Jameson’s eyes flash towards her cleavage made her even more annoyed. “Phone,” she commanded, holding her hand out to him, “now”.

Jameson rose from the couch, silently nearing her. “Tell you what, let’s make a bet,” he suggested.

“Why would I do that?”

“You want your phone back, don’t you?”

“What’s the bet Hawthorne?”

Jameson grinned proudly. “Well, if you’re still against making a bet, you could instead finally admit your feelings for me-“

"I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing!" Y/n scoffed loudly. Her eyes narrowed at him as her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"Is that so?" Jameson inquired, his tone audibly amused.

"Yep. Nothing,” she repeated, her irritation growing with his amusement. Why was everything a game to him?!

Jameson took one slow deliberate step towards her, a smirk on his face.

She swallowed thickly but held her ground, refusing to back away from him.

He laughed lightly at her reaction. "Relax princess, l am not going to jump on you." "Not until you ask me to anyway,” he hummed, grabbing her hand.

Y/n yanked her hand away from his. “Explain the terms of your bet or I’ll track down your brother and tell him you’ve stolen my phone,” she stated firmly. Why wasn’t she just doing that now? Why was she even entertaining Jameson by considering his bet?

Jameson chuckled. “Admit your, feelings for me,” he repeated, holding his pointer finger over her lips to silence her. His posture stiffened as he tried not to give in to how soft and kissable her lips felt against his skin. “Or,” he emphasized, beginning to lay out the terms of the bet. “You come with me, escape this egotistical party for a bit and go along with my rebellious acts,” he smirked, teasingly referring to his actions the way she often did. “And, if you still hate me at the end of the night, you’ll get your phone back.”

“And if I don’t?” She hesitated.

“Is that something you’re worried about Princess?” Jameson asked, cocking his right eyebrow.

She shot him another glare despite the fact her heart was beating uncontrollably. “There’s always another side to your bets,” she answered.

Jameson hummed. “If you don’t end up hating me, maybe you’ll get something else out of the night.”

“What else?”

He debated about teasing her as to why she was so concerned with this outcome. But, his nervous energy had grown due to their closeness and her willingness to go along with his bet instead of turning him in to Grayson for having taken her phone. He’d hoped tonight he’d be able to show her just how fun being “rebellious” could be. He hoped she’d be able to let herself relax some. But he couldn’t deny that he hoped something more would possibly start to form come tonight as well. “We’ll just have to see, hmm,” he answered vaguely, taking her hand and leading her to the door.

Jameson smiled to himself as he watched y/n screaming gleefully as she glided through the air. Her legs were crossed to keep her dress from exposing anything but was otherwise relaxed. As she landed before him, her zip line coming to an end, he approached to help her unhook herself from the harness.

Y/n breathed heavily as she tried to catch her breath, the adrenaline having knocked the wind out of her. She gleamed up at Jameson, her eyes shining. Maybe his rebellious side had its perks after all. Maybe Jameson had his moments. She’d never felt this free in her life.

“Ready for our next act of rebellion?” Jameson forced himself to ask despite finding himself all too content to stay in this moment longer, his hands rested on her biceps as she caught her breath, smiling at him. That radiant smile of hers that always took his breath away. However, the look of excitement and anticipation in her eyes in response to his question, made his heart beat madly.

Y/n giggled as she tried to fix her hair. Jameson had taken her for a ride on his motorcycle, utilizing a patch of open driving space The Hawthorne House had. She knew given it was private property there was no true speed limit, but she was fairly certain they’d still gone over it somehow.

Jameson gently moved a few stray hairs off of her face and back to their usual places, smiling widely.

Y/n found herself nearly leaning into his touch. She quickly stepped back and slapped his hand, making him lower it to his side. However, neither of their grins left their faces.

Jameson chuckled at her behavior, “come on, night’s still young”. He took her hand and tugged her towards the house.

Y/n’s phone rang out as midnight struck. Jameson moved his hand from where it was resting on her waist, having been showing her how to hit the golf ball properly, but his other hand remained. He slid it into his back pocket and pulled out the device. He dismissed the alarm. “Seems my time is up,” he spoke softly, moving his arm back around her, bringing her phone to the open space between her stomach and the golf club in offering.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily. She sighed quietly as she let go of the golf club, letting it drop to the rooftop under her feet. She hesitantly spun to face him, painfully aware of the way his tender fingers moved with her but kept their hold on her hips. “I don't hate you," her voice barely audible as she found herself pressed against his chest. “I never hated you,” she confessed.

"I know Princess," he murmured, his arms moving behind her and tightening around her.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with uncertainty and fear. Fear for what this confession would mean after tonight. Fear for what he might do with such information. "But, I should hate you," she remarked. Jameson was practically everything she hated about wealth, excessive spending on needless things, full of cockiness and ego.. but something about him was just… different. She’d noticed it before… but tonight was the first night she’d let herself indulge in these conflicting thoughts.

"You should," Jameson agreed. He delicately held her face in his hands, eyes burning with intensity. “And it makes me the luckiest bastard in the world that you can't manage to," he rasped.

They stared at one another in silence, the moonlight shining down on them as they instinctively leaned closer to each other.

Jameson’s voice was soft, sincere, and slightly nervous as he asked, “can I kiss you?”

The respectful question, his pleading gaze, and kissable lips, had y/n leaning in without responding. She closed her eyes as his warm lips met hers, her hands finding their way to his face.

“This changes nothing, I’m still going to beat you at bowling,” y/n remarked breathily once their lips parted.

Jameson’s wickedly handsome grin returned. “You can try, Princess,” he said, eyes aglow. “Up the ante?” He proposed, teasingly stroking her cheek with his ring finger.

“How so?”

His grin shifted into a smirk. “A Hawthorne classic adaptation,” he began. He let his eyes roam over her frame suggestively before adding, “strip bowling”. Having noticed the way her breath hitched, Jameson squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you’re not up to it Princess,” he said sincerely, but also unable to not toy with her competitive streak.

“If you feel like stripping for me, so be it,” she shrugged, her smirk making Jameson’s own smirk grow.

"You are, without a doubt, the most obnoxious person I’ve ever crossed paths with,” y/n remarked, glaring at Jameson over her shoulder as her ball rolled into the gutter due to him making noises as she tried to bowl.

Jameson chuckled, “I’m not sure what you’re referring to Princess”.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she walked back to where he was. “And don't even get me started on the sound of your voice,” she muttered.

“Mmm that sounds fun though,” he argued, lips pressed against her ear as he intentionally brushed up against her when reaching for his bowling ball.

Y/n turned around, ready to tell him off. However, his warm breath hitting her skin and the way his bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and his honeyed voice echoing in her head won out. She aggressively gripped his belt loops and pulled him to her. She crashed her lips into his, eyes closing as his arms roamed her body.

Jameson’s lips found their way to her neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He smirked against her skin as she let out a pleased hum. He kept his lips in place, knowingly having found her sweet spot and began sucking lightly.

Y/n’s hands blindly searched for Jameson’s waistband. She felt him slightly jump at her touch, fueling her desire further.

“You know, my clothes are supposed to come off only if I lose,” he teased breathlessly as he moved his lips up to meet hers.

Y/n abruptly pulled away, her hands dropping to her sides. She felt like crying as she watched the way his lips chased hers. He was really trying to convince her, wasn’t he? “This…-,” she sniffed, stepping back as she shook her head in frustrated disbelief.

“Princess?” Jameson asked. His voice taking a tone the nickname hadn’t worn when leaning his mouth before; uncertainty and worry.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” she laughed humorously. Backing up until her butt hit the bowling ball return. “This is all just a game, isn’t it?”

“What?” Jameson questioned, his brain struggling to adjust to the sudden change.

“I’m just something for you to win, the one thing you didn’t have yet. This was all just you trying to get me to let go so you could win some sick game-”.

“Woah, woah, no,” Jameson promised as he moved closer. “Princess,” he sighed. It made sense she’d reach that conclusion. Even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth. He wanted this. Wanted her, more than anything. “Y/n, no,” he vowed, his tone deeply sincere. “For once in my life, this isn’t a game. Teasing you, sure, but not in the way you think.” He offered a small appreciative smile when she didn’t back away from his touch as he went to cup her cheek. “Yes, I’ve been wanting you to let go and hoped tonight would help you do that,” he confessed, “but not because I see you as a game, something to figure out or win.. But because I can see what this lifestyle is doing to you, you deserve better, you deserve to live”.

“And… this…” She whispered timidly.

“Us?”

“Is there really an us?” She asked, voice cracking, betrayingly exposing her heart’s fears.

Jameson’s gaze was warm and tender as he stroked her cheek. “That’s up to you. I’d love for there to be, Princess,” he confessed. “But that’s your call to make.”

“This isn’t a game..? Or some rebellious act of yours to get at your brother?”

He firmly shook his head. “No games,” he promised, squeezing her cheek. “I’m afraid I’m always rebellious, darling, but this, is real.”

Y/n stared at Jameson silently for a moment; analyzing his tone, words, and body language. Grayson’s and Alisa’s warnings played in her mind. But, she couldn’t deny the way she felt. She lifted her eyes to meet Jameson’s patient ones, “kiss me”.

“Is that an order, Princess?” Jameson chuckled with a smirk. However, his cockiness melted away when she simply raised her brow at him in expectation. He immediately caved in and leaned down to her again.

Jameson smiled softly as y/n’s eyes flittered open. He watched with slight fear as everything came back to her. Had she regretted it? However, his nerves subsided as she her laid her head against his bare chest and mumbled a shy good morning. He chuckled, brushing hair from her face lovingly. He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face when she gazed up at him sweetly instead of hitting his hand away from her as she’d done before. “Morning Princess,” he greeted.

Before she had the chance to respond, Jameson’s brother, Grayson’s, voice could be heard echoing through the hallway outside the bedroom door. She looked up at Jameson as they both tried to make out what the older Hawthorne was shouting. “What did you do?” She teased with a grin.

“You wound me,” Jameson scoffed playfully, holding a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Jameson!” Grayson’s angry voice shouted, audibly closer than before. He was clearly headed this way; to Jameson’s room. “Y/n was supposed to be at the foundation two hours ago but she wasn’t.”

Jameson barely had time to teasingly raise his brow at her over the unexpected rebellion. He tried not to chuckle at the way she cringed slightly, clearly having spaced on the responsibility.

“She was last seen with you!” Grayson’s scolding continued, the bedroom door being thrown open loudly. “What did you-“

Upon hearing the door with the wall as it opened, Jameson promptly ensured she was covered modestly with his comforter. “I’d say she’s still able to be seen with me,” he shrugged grinning down at her. He winked at her to silently reassure her this wasn’t part of his plans.

Y/n caught onto the reasoning behind Jameson’s wink. But she already knew he had nothing to do with this. At least not intentionally. She’d only made the plans with Grayson via text last night just before having been interrupted by Jameson who she’d then spent the night with. He had no way of knowing about the plans. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself lacking the normal nauseating guilt that came with acting so “irresponsibly”. But last night had changed her, for the better. She would still attend to her responsibilities, but she didn’t have to be so rigid about it anymore. Jameson taught her that. Her thoughts returning to the moment, she playfully smacked Jameson’s bare chest over his comment, making him chuckle and pull her to him.

“I…” Grayson gaped. “You let him corrupt you?”

Jameson laughed loudly at the likely unintended double entendre.

Y/n rolled her eyes at Grayson’s words. “He’s not that bad,” she defended.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said about me, Princess,” Jameson grinned, earning another smack to his chest as Grayson grumpily left the room.

Jameson Hawthorne Navigation

Grayson Jawthorne Navigation

All My Works (Main Masterlist) Navigation

Jameson Hawthorne Tag List: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[authorscurse]

LOVE LEAVES SCARS: INTRODUCTION

Synopsis: In which! Due to a letter calling her to go back to Texas Verity Rosewood goes back to the place she spent years trying to forget. While she is there, she tries to reconnect with the people she left. Her family, friends, and especially the person she loved most.

[L.L.S Masterlist] [M. Masterlist] [G.H Masterlist]

Case file #1:

[Name]: Verity Rosewood

[Nickname(s)]: Veri

[Age]: 20

[Date of birth]: August 22, 2000

[Gender]: Female

[Sexuality]: Bisexual

[Eye color]: Brown eyes

[Hair color]: auburn

[Height]: 5'6

[Playlist]: Top of my school 【Katherine Lynn-Rose】 Pov 【Ariana Grande】 You're on your own kid 【Taylor Swift】 Brutal 【Olivia Rodrigo】 Little Miss Perfect 【Write out loud】Lose you to love me 【Selena Gomez】 All I want 【Olivia Rodrigo】 Dollhouse 【Melanie Martinez】 Be myself 【Why don't we】 I wanna be yours 【Arctic Monkeys】 Consequences【Camila Cabello】 Mess it up 【Gracie Abrams】 Control 【Halsey】 Elastic Heart【Sia】Applause 【Lady Gaga】 Thumbs 【Sabrina Carpenter】 In my mind 【Lyn Lapid】 Happier than Ever 【Billie Eilish】 Not strong enough【Boy genius】 If Only 【Dove Cameron】

Case File #2

[Name]: Grayson Hawthorne

[Nickname(s)]: Gray

[Age]: 19

[Date of birth]: August 23, 2001

[Gender]: Male

[Sexuality]: heterosexual

[Eye color]: pale gray

[Hair color]: blonde

[Height]: 6'0

[Playlist]: Looking at me【sabrina carpenter】Can I be him【James Arthur】Labyrinth 【Taylor Swift】Daddy Issues【The neighborhood】Ador You【Harry Styles】If I killed someone for you【Alec Benjamin】Man of the House【Marilyn Hucek】Money, Power, Glory【Lana Del Ray】I bet in losing dogs【Mitski】Angels like you【Miley Cyrus】Surface pressure【Jessica Darrow】People Watching【Conan Gray】I ain't perfect【IV of spades】Mistakes like this【Prelow】Mirror ball【Taylor Swift】Favorite crime【Olivia rodrigo】Feelin good【Michael Bublé] Lay all your love on me【ABBA】All of the girls you've loved before【Taylor Swift】Set fire to the rain【Adele】

Verity Rosewood

—The one who absquatulated

"I never wanted to leave, but I had to. For me."

Being the heir of the Rosewood family, Verity has been training and learning how to manage her family's company even at such a young age. She went to different kinds of classes, may it be public speaking classes, business management, dance classes, and many more. She had to be different, to be perfect. The pressure of being the best and perfect heir was exhausting, but she had her friends, right? The Hawthorne brothers have helped her cope with all the pressure and stress her family and everyone else pressed on her. She thought she could handle it, but everyone had their breaking points.

Grayson Hawthorne

—The Heir Apparent

"And that made me hate you even more."

Grayson had been considered as the "Heir apparent" of the family for as long as he remembered. As a Hawthorne, he was taught many things, and that included never showing emotion. He had to learn how to not cry or show signs of weakness. Being one of the oldest siblings didn't help with that at all. In fact, it just added even more pressure on him. Having to be the older and more responsible brother out of the rest. It was difficult. Trying to make yourself look as if you're not broken. He is broken and hurt, yet he makes sure not to show anyone even a second of his true emotions. He was not raised to be like that.

Verity + Grayson

—The never ending story

"In this toxic and suffocating world, we had each other."

The friendship of the Rosewood and the Hawthorne family has lasted for years now. So Verity being friends with the Hawthorne grandchildren was no such mystery. The group was always seen together during classes, tea time, playing outside on the grounds, or even skipping classes together. They were inseparable, but there were 2 children in the friend group that were much closer with each other than the rest; Verity and Grayson. The two consider each other as their safe places, the person who brings comfort to each other. Due to the pressure of their families, both of them really understood each other and considered one another as the place that they could bring down their walls and become their true selves. They felt safe, comforted, and peaceful in the presence of each other. Because for once, they felt as if they had one place they didn't have to pretend as if they're perfect.

[Playlist]: Back to December【Taylor Swift】Play date【Melanie Martinez】Tattoos forever【lauv】Love song【Why don't we】Make you mine【Public】Somebody to you【The Vamps】You and I 【One direction】That way【Tate McRae】Runaway【Aurora】If the world was ending【JP Saxe, Julia Michaels】Your name hurts【Hailee Steinfeld】Why's you only call me when you're high【Arctic Monkeys】Talk too much【Coin】Overdrive【Conan Gray】The one that got away【Katy Perry】House of memories【Panic! At the disco】Back to you【Selena Gomez】Midnight Memories【One direction】Still the one【One direction】Lover【Taylor Swift】The way I love you【Taylor Swift】Favorite crime【Olivia Rodrigo】I love you so【The walters】WYD now 【Sadie Jean】Somewhere only we know【Keane】Afterglow【Taylor Swift】Kiss it better【Rihanna】Kidult【Seventeen】No one can fix me【Frawley】Fall for you【Sarah Kang, Jesse Berrera】Remember that night【Sara Kays】

[inmyheaddd]

half asleep - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: someone lmk how to acquire a sleepy grayson to cuddle with for myself pls wc: 368 masterlist

you were wide awake, your leg strewn across grayson’s torso and his arms wrapped around you. he was out like a light, and you should’ve been too. 

you blame the 2 extra coffees you had in the morning. in your defense, you were a walking zombie by 1pm, desperate for a boost of energy.

now, you had been laying there silently awake for an hour; it was impossible to go back to sleep.

you thought you were hilarious, so you slowly got out of his grip, propping yourself up on one elbow. 

“grayson, i need you to buy germany for me.” you whispered as you patted his shoulder.

you were spewing absolute nonsense, playing a prank on your boyfriend that you had seen other people do online.

“what?” he muttered. his slight pout, and the way his brows were furrowed with his eyes still closed made possibly the most adorable sight you’d ever seen.

you tried your hardest to not laugh, “you need to buy germany from the store. i asked you last week.”

“okay, okay, ill do it. just…” he patted his arm around looking for you, “come back to sleep, sweetheart.” he mumbled as he blindly reached for your waist again to pull you in closer, but you stayed put.

“wait but, what about the purple frogs in italy?”

“i’ll get them.” he said with a sleepy groan, “tomorrow.” he pulled you in closer successfully this time, and he grabbed the back of your knee, pulling it over his lower half as he wrapped his other arm around your shoulder.

you were shaking with laughter, biting your bottom lip trying not to wake him up.

his breaths were starting to steady and then you saw his brows furrow again. after a beat of silence, he blinked one open eye at you. 

“sweetheart, germany? as in the whole country?” 

you met his gaze sheepishly, holding back a laugh. “purple frogs in italy? are you alright?” he continued. it was impossible not to laugh now.

“i was just messing with you,” you said in between giggles, “i’m sorry,” you placed a hand on his cheek, and he smiled sleepily at the sound of your laughter, closing his eyes again momentarily. 

“i’ll try and get germany for you. no garauntees, my love, but i’ll do my best.” he mumbled sleepily as he brought your head to his chest, kissing the top of it. 

“what about the purple frogs in italy?” you muttered into his chest with a smile.

he let out a sleepy chuckle, “absolutely not.”

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus

@sweetlikeanangel @littlemissmentallyunstable @sheisntyou @emelia07

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

bella PLEWSDE WRITE A GRAYSON HAWTHORNE BLURB OR WHAYEVER WITH READER WITH LOW IRON AND LIKE SHE ALMOST FAINTS BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY ZERO. ZERO FICS THAY HAVE THE READER WITH LOW IRON SO PPELAPSPESLLEPWDLEEL

AHHHHHH BELLE LET ME JUST BEGIN WITH AN APOLOGY BECAUSE I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS FIC HAS TAKEN ME THREE BILLION YEARS TO GET AROUND TO WRITING!! THANK YOU FOR YOU REQUEST AND I PRAYYYY THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED…. (if not I will redo)

title: I’m fine

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: a story where ‘I’m fine’ means ‘I’m totally not fine but I’m not going to admit that’

warnings: dizziness, fainting

a/n: dedicating this to the beautiful @midiosaamor 💖💖 ily <33

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 @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi @peppapigsposts @foreverwinter22

It only started as a headache, not bad enough to be classed as a migraine but bad enough to be considered more than your average headache. Still, I carried on typing the words out on my computer, my brain pulsating in pain.

I didn’t have time to rest off a headache, there was too much to do. I’d only started working four hours ago and if I didn’t get this done by tonight then my boss would not be happy. I mean it wasn’t exactly my fault she decided set me an assignment with a deadline on the same day but still, I had to work it all out and push through.

The tasks seemed endless, I typed word after word, in a state of not really registering what I was writing, just making the robotic movements to write. Clicking the keys and forming coherent sentences without anything being properly processed. It wasn’t unusual, I was used to my brain working faster than my body sometimes.

Still, my head throbbed on. For a second, I stopped the incessant tapping on my keyboard and pressed two fingertips softly to each temple. My hands were ice cold. I breathed in and out deeply a few times with my eyes shut before beginning to work again, praying a tiny reset would be what I needed. I knew I was lying to myself, I knew it would take more than that to soothe any pain but I carried on like I didn’t.

“Are you alright?”

As small gasp escaped my lips as I looked up to see Grayson standing in the doorframe, one hand at the top taking most of his weight. I wondered how long he’d been stood there and I hadn’t noticed.

“Mmmm,” I hummed in reply, going back to finish the sentence I was typing before I lost my train of thought. Then I looked back up at him again, “why?”

He walked in slowly looking at my face intently, “you look a little pale.”

He took my face into his palms and rubbed my cheek with his thumb. Small, gentle, long strokes, that made me lean into him further. I wanted to just curl up in his arms and sleep, but my work clearly had other ideas.

“Just a headache,” I brushed it off, pulling away from his touch reluctantly, “is there any aspirin?”

“There is,” he nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, “but I really think you ought to lay down if it’s this bad.”

“I don’t need to,” I shook my head stubbornly, standing up to look him dead in the eye, “I’m fine.”

What a lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he told me softly, the anxiety rippling across his perfected features. His hands curved around the small of my back and I tried to enjoy it instead of thinking about the throbbing of my head.

So despite my ache, I smiled, “well I feel fine.”

Sometimes I lied so easily and so well it worried me. I shouldn’t be this good at something so cruel. But maybe more than him, I was lying to myself to convince a part of me that I wasn’t as feeling as bad as I thought I felt.

Grayson gave me another worried glance, thumb running up and down the base of my spine rhythmically, the softness of his touch sending a chill through it.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked me, the tingling up my back dying down.

“Earlier,” I nodded, my eyes flicking the time in the bottom corner of my screen realising my ‘earlier’ actually meant six hours ago. On cue, my stomach seized in a hungry protest, sending a tight knot like sensation across my abdomen. I prayed it wouldn’t grumble, betraying my lies to Gray.

“I haven’t seen you eat or-“

“Stop the fussing,” I grinned to bear it, “I’m fine, just need a tablet and some water.”

“Maybe lay off the work then,” he suggested, cocking his head towards my computer screen.

“Grayson I need to get this done,” I sighed gently, “a little headache can’t stop me.”

“Okay…” he said unsurely, hesitating for a few seconds.

“Stop worrying,” I forced a laugh through my searing brain, glancing up at him and looking through those truth-reeling gray eyes.

“I’m not,” his right hand twitches at my side. Liar. “Sit down and I’ll go and get you the aspirin, okay?”

“Okay then,” I nodded, sitting down. Another chill ran through my spine, though this time it was because of the empty place left where his hands had just been.

I took a few more deep breaths, feeling a little out of it all of a sudden. It was like I was in the room but I wasn’t at the same time. I closed my eyes and let the weight of my skull fall into my palms, breathing even deeper, heavier.

I let myself hang, like a lifeless marionette forgotten by her puppeteer, everything leaden and dopey. When I heard Grayson coming back and quickly opened my eyes and sat up a little bit straighter. If he saw me like that he’d get stressed and that’s the last he needed. It was only a headache after all.

Just a really bad headache.

“Thank you,” I kissed him on the cheek as he passed me the aspirin pill and a glass of water.

He cupped my face in his hands, “you promise me you’re fine?”

“I promise promise promise you,” I whispered, feigning another smile. My jaw was starting to ache. I don’t know it’s it from the guilt of lying or the forceful action of smiling or maybe it was just the headache transferring.

I took the tablet between my fingertips and put it at the back of my mouth before swallowing it quickly with water. I shivered afterwards. I hate taking tablets.

Grayson squeezed my shoulders softly, “do you want me to stay here?”

“Didn’t I just ‘promise promise promise’ you I was fine?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

He looked at me and sighed. Worry ran riot across his eyes, swirling anxious thoughts into pools of grey. How bad did I look?

“I haven’t got much work left to do, okay?” I said, “I just need to get through this.”

He took his time walking out and although I didn’t look at him I was convinced he kept looking back every through steps to check on me. Finally he left and I downed the glass of water.

I sat still for a moment, analysing how I felt. I didn’t think it was possible but my head had worsened. I internally groaned as dread filled my body. It wasn’t supposed to worsen. I prayed the tablet would kick in, after all I hadn’t really given it a chance.

I took a long breath out and continued tapping away at the keypad. After a while the continuous clicking and clacking was beginning to irritate me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite scratch. My already pounding head felt pounded with the small noises over and over like they were making a mockery of it. Still I continued, there wasn’t much left now and if I could just finish it l, all would be okay.

After about a billion spell checks - seriously why does psychology have a ‘p’ and ‘h’ in it, it’s so irrelevant - I thought I might be ready to finish when I realised I’d missed a whole section.

By now my head was almost unbearable. Torturous agony was creeping up behind my eye now as well as the front of my head. A whole section felt like it would be the death of me. And I’d noticed something weirdly unnatural about my breathing. Every breath in didn’t feel like enough oxygen. So I began to breathe more deeply and when that wasn’t working, more quickly.

That only fuelled my rising panic about the weird nature of these symptoms. They were familiar. Why couldn’t I breathe normally? What was wrong? Maybe it was more than a headache? Questions raced through my head faster than it had time to process them all.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My head pounded on and like the idiot that I am, I carried on writing. My vision blurred out for a fraction of a second then cleared shortly after. I rubbed my eyes. It was just the screen. Just the screen.

It happened a few more times, so I cleaned my glasses with the bottom of my jumper for good measure. More notes, more notes, more notes, more notes. I quickly hit save in the document for fear if my computer crashed I would lose it all. I sighed as I then went to drink from my water glass only to realise it was empty.

“Gray!” I yelled, “could you grab me another glass of water please?”

I barely registered his reply, my only focus being the stupid piece of work. ‘I can last a little longer’ I repeated over and over in my mind. Until I was bored. Until I was delirious. Until I was too brain dead to care.

I could hear Grayson approaching so got up to meet him at the door. I wanted a ten second break from staring straight at the glowing screen. Suddenly, mid step, I stumbled. Straight away Grayson had one hand around the small of my back gripping tightly and the another on my upper arm, steadying me. I try to laugh it off as a I mistake but even that sounded weak.

“Woah sweetheart,” he said, his hold firmer as he set me straight, “what’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” I shrugged, trying to get back to my chair, my legs feeling too much like jelly for my liking.

I could see he didn’t believe me completely, he didn’t have to say a word. Grayson, instead, took me in his arms. I couldn’t ask to sit down after that, then I’d be admitting that something was wrong. So I stayed standing, my body against his. The only thing holding me up was him.

He looked at me, tender eyed and consumed with concern, “you’re clearly not my love.”

“Gray, I just tripped,” I said smoothly, praying he’d let me twist the truth as I tried to stop my legs from shaking.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured in a low voice, curling his other arm around my waist for support.

“I’m not lying,” I shrugged, continuing to be in denial as I gripped to his shirt so tightly my knuckles went white, “I’m fine.”

As soon as the words left my lips everything spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my head against his chest, hoping it would all just go away. My feet swayed a little and panic seized my throat at the unsteadiness. I made a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a silent scream.

“It’s okay,” Grayson whispered softly, “I’ve got you.” He brought a hand up through the back of my hair and gently held onto the back of my head to steady it.

“Dizzy,” I murmured into him, my voice slurred and slowed. I felt so out of it.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. My concept of time was as hazy as my vision. I just remembered staying very still, Grayson’s hands not leaving my body and how hard my forehead was pressed against him.

After a while, I tried to stand back on my own, thinking the dizzy spell was over but as soon as I did the room became a whirlpool of colours and blob-ish shapes. I felt myself lose my footing completely and before I knew it was falling backwards.

Strong arms tensed around my torso and quickly caught me, “oh sweetheart,” I heard Grayson say as he safely lowered me to the ground.

My legs became lifeless pieces of flesh, heavy as led but weak as a flimsy childhood doll. My head felt heavy in his lap as it pounded on. I sewed my eyes shut, it helped a little with the dizziness. His cold fingers tentatively touched my forehead and I leant into them ever so slightly with what energy I had left.

“I’m going to carry you to bed,” he told me gently, as I felt one arm around my back and the other under my legs.

“But my work-“ I groaned, feeling a little nauseated from the dizziness.

He held me tightly, “no sweetheart, forget about work, you need to rest.”

I didn’t reply and instead feebly gripped my deadened limbs around his neck and prayed for all of this to just go away.

“Gray,” I murmured into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not fine,” I said, somewhere between a sob and mumble.

“I know sweetheart,” he whispered, pressing a shaky kiss on my temple, “I know.”

He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, laying me on the bed, before tucking me under the covers. Not letting go of my hand, that gripped him so tightly I don’t know how he didn’t complain. I heard him dialling a number.

“Who are you calling?” I slurred.

“Someone to come and help you,” he responded swiftly.

“Mhmm,” I could only muster in response.

His thumb rubbed circles up and down my hand, “I’m going to stay right here okay?” he comforted, “can you still hear me?”

“Don’t go,” I whispered, feeling quite pathetic but not self-conscience enough to care.

“No I’m staying sweetheart,” he squeezed my palm in his, “I’m staying.”

My eyes fluttered open as my head lazily lolled to one side, “I’m dizzy,” I groaned, not remembering if I’d mentioned already.

“I know,” Grayson whispered, a hand pushing my hair out of the way, “I know.”

“Can I rest my eyes?” I asked him, closing them anyway.

“No, you can’t go to sleep,” he told me.

“No just rest my eyes…” I trailed off, pausing for a long while, my train of thought wavering, “…to stop the spinning.”

“Squeeze my hand every three seconds then,” he said, “so I know you’re awake.”

“Deal,” I barely managed to whisper before I felt the need to increase my breathing rate. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in my system.

I squeezed his hand every three seconds, just about keeping track of the numbers. But with every squeeze I could feel myself growing weaker and weaker, like all of my energy was being drained slowly and mercilessly. The only thing that kept me from closing my eyes was Grayson’s gentle touches. His soft fingertips trailing over my face, tracing the contours or drawing spirals on my upper arms and neck.

I opened my eyes for a moment, when the darkness was just as bad as the light, when I felt dizzy no matter whether my eyes were closed or open. Things blurred and cleared, darkened and became normal again over and over and over. Until, a piercing ringing coursed through my ears and everything other sound seemed to be submerged under water. I knew what that meant I was close to.

“Gray,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to pass out,” I told him, a single tear trailing its way down my cheek, “I can feel it.”

I knew the signs well enough and every sign was pointing that way.

“It’s okay,” he said, positioning himself behind me, so my back was pressed against his torso and he could support my head, “I’ve got you.”

“I don’t want to pass out,” I sobbed, black spots dancing across my vision in mockery.

The worst part is always before you passed out because when you’re out you feel and remember nothing. But before, you know what’s coming and you know you can’t stop it.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he mumbled into my hair, slowly, comfortingly, “you’re safe, if you need to pass out, you can and your body will, whether you like it or not.”

My hands were shaking, fingers rocking back and forth, bumping into one another clumsily, “I’m scared,” I said between uneven breaths.

I grabbed Grayson’s forearm to attempt to still them, my fingers so brutally desperate in their clinging that they constricted his blood flow. No matter how many times I’d passed out,, I always felt just as scared.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he soothed gently, “I’ve got you, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise,” I panted, looking up at him, chest rising up and down harshly.

“I promise,” he leant down and planted a sweet of kiss on my nose.

I kept looking up, until his gray eyes clouded with dark spots, until calm expression replaced with an endless see of nothingness, until the whisperings of sweet words ceased. My breathing was heavy, growing heavier by the second and then… then there was black.

***

I felt thick and heavy with drowsiness. My body felt so weighted it ached. My back was against the mattress, my head flat on the pillow, I was anchored to my bed. The covers had been adjusted to just under my neck and I could feel someone’s hand in mine.

I winced as I opened my eyes, the light attacking them too viciously. Immediately Grayson dimmed it down, holding my cheek tentatively in his palm.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my forehead.

“Gray?”

He traced a soft thumb over the bone where my eyebrow sat as he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Here,” he said gently, “have some water.”

Slowly he helped me prop myself up, his hand pressed up against my back, the other tipping the glass towards my lips. I swallowed, the water feeling odd against the dryness of my throat.

“How long was I out for?” I coughed.

“Only a bit,” he said, laying me back down, “the doctors have come and gone, they say you’ll be okay with some rest.”

“Why did I pass out?” I asked tiredly, “do they know?”

“You hadn’t taken your iron tablets in three days,” Grayson explained, cocking his head towards my table.

I glanced to my bedside and gasped. Three days worth of unconsumed tablets sat there. I never usually forgot, one day maybe but three whole days. That was unheard of. Guilt permeated me, all the stress I’d probably put Grayson under could’ve been entirely prevented.

“I must’ve forgotten,” I sighed leaning deeper into my pillow, “work has just been so hectic lately and-“

“Hey, hey, hey, I didn’t tell you to worry you, I told you so you wouldn’t overthink what was wrong,” he said softly, “but it’s okay, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

“But it’s not okay because it’s all my fault,” I bursted into tears, the shock wave of random emotion leaving me senseless, “I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you I wasn’t fine and then I just passed out and that probably really stressed you out and I could’ve stopped all of that if I’d just taken the stupid tablets.”

“Sweetheart,” he pressed a palm flat on my chest, “breathe, it’s okay.”

His voice was the constant in my current of chaotic overthinking. This had happened before many times, my low iron deficiency had always been an issue, but even the very first time I’d passed out he was so much calmer than I’d expected.

He kept calm for me.

“God I feel like an idiot,” I choked out a pathetic laugh, wiping my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.

“You’re not an idiot, love,” he soothed, taking my hand gently into his and replacing with with the pad of his thumb, as he gently wiped away the tears that were left, “it happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” I shook my head defiantly.

I don’t forget things. I never forget things.

“Hey,” Grayson said, “look at me, you’re fine, I’m fine and that’s all that’s important.”

He held my face in his palms and looked at me like I meant the world.

“I’m sorry,” I let the weight of my head fall into his hands, taking the ache from my neck.

“Don’t apologise,” he said, “there’s no need for you to, just relax.”

I closed my eyes, his palm warm and comforting against my cheek. His fingers found their way to the top of my head, soothingly running through my hair over my scalp.

“Do you want me to get in with you?” he asked.

I nodded sleepily and watched as he slipped into the bed beside me. I was quick to snuggle close, intertwining my legs with his and burying my face into his chest. I inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered in a low voice in my ear as his arms curved around my waist.

“Tired,” I mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he ushered, “you can go to sleep.”

“What if you go?” I asked, like a child.

“I won’t, I promise,” Grayson said, “I’ll stay here with you.”

I smiled to myself, and squeezed his arm, “I love you,” I murmured, “so much.”

“I love you too sweetheart,” he planted a kiss on the top of my head, “more than this world. Get some rest now.”

So I shut my eyes and fell longingly into sleep’s arms.

a/n: hope you enjoyed guys, sorry I haven’t posted much 💖💖

TIG masterlist

[xoxochb]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ big shoutout to my favorite book boyfriends!

[graysdarling]

i believe that grayson hawthorne is the most un grayson hawthorne whenever he's drunk.

"but... why won't you kiss me? :("

"because youre drunk, gray."

"oh. but avery kisses jameson whenever he's drunk...”

"because he's drunk 24/7."

"but i want kisses too... if i get drunk 24/7 will you kiss me too?"

“NO.”

[adddddiiii]

Thinking about sleepy Grayson Hawthorne...

Sleepy Grayson is a rare sight, but when you catch him half-awake, it’s adorable. His usually perfect hair is tousled, his sharp suit traded for an old T-shirt and sweatpants, and his voice? Low, raspy, and his words are almost childlike with exhaustion.

He’s the type to mumble incoherent things when he’s half-asleep, pulling you closer with a lazy arm draped around your waist. “Five more minutes,” he’ll whisper, even if you weren’t trying to leave.

Grayson isn’t a morning person when he’s with you. He’ll bury his face into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, sleepy kisses to your skin, murmuring, “Stay a little longer... please.”

And when he finally wakes up? He’ll groan dramatically, rubbing at his eyes, but he’ll melt the second you tease him. “You’re cute when you’re half-asleep, you know.”

He’ll roll his eyes, but you’ll catch that tiny smile he can’t hide. And somehow, you’ll always find yourself trapped in bed for a little longer because sleepy Grayson is impossible to say no to.

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ IM A FAN — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: hi lovelies! look its my first smau/fic (on this acc) and since i love making them here we are :))) hope you enjoy <3 sorry if this is too long btw. i need a grayson guys... maybe a possible series?!?!

grayson hawthorne was bored okay? he was bored, and for a man like him to be bored literally nothing must be happening. so how i hear you ask did he end up on the youtube page of a very popular booktuber? he blames xander, for watching her on the tv curled up with max earlier today. something about you.. intrigued him.

he stared at the account for the longest time before finally, finally clicking on your latest video about your fall tbr. and once he heard your voice it was like he was in a trance. the calmness of the video, your narration and the way you spoke to the viewers made him feel as if he was sitting there next to you on your bed.

he never watched this type of thing. he never really watched stuff at all. but suddenly here he was binge watching every single one of your videos. it was as if he had no control over himself and he just wanted to continue to watch them for the rest of the day.

by the time he had realised how late it was, it was dark out and the time read 6:43am. it must've been the delusion that made him type out the comment, or the fact that he hadn't actually slept yet. but either way he made a comment and that, that was the beginning of the start of everything.

────

you screamed. you actually screamed when you saw the comment on you post. grayson hawthorne??? the grayson hawthorne had watched your video? holy mother of-

the hawthorne's were notorious, all of them were, but grayson, he had the largest fanbase. the most obsessive one. the one with the girls that go crazy over anything and everything about him. its insane to think that he had commented on your video.

you thought it might've been just a once off. y'know he was just scrolling on youtube - yeah right thats not believable at all - and he happened to stumble across your video?

or maybe it was xander, he's followed you for a while actually, occasionally commenting and flirting with max in the comments. maybe he put grayson up to it. a once off.

so grayson commenting on your video really meant nothing - lies it meant everything - nothing, it meant nothing. who even cares? you definitely don't.

────

yn.books

liked by alya.green, maxine.liu.loo graysonhawthorne and 346, 282 others

yn.books what are you reading right now? (psst the book of the month is divine rivals by rebecca ross!)

view all comments

user1 the book queen posted!!!

user2 i bought divine rivals yesterday can't wait until my copy comes!!

user3 i died when i read the end 😭 roman and iris my babies

user4 OH OH OH GRAYSON HAWTHORNE IN THE LIKES??????

user5 RIGHT AND AFTER HE COMMENTED ON HER VIDEO A FEW WEEKS AGO

graysonhawthorne would you recommend divine rivals?

yn.books yes 100% its such a lovely read i definitely recommend you read it!

user6 GRAYSON??????????? GRAYSON??????

user7 GRAYSON HAWTHORNE WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?????

────

"you bitch!" your best friend's voice fills your apartment as she rushes inside and stops dead in the living room. "why am i only now just finding out that grayson hawthorne comment on your posts?"

the murderous look on her face has you siting up quickly putting your book down on the couch. "...because i didn't tell you?"

"its the grayson hawthorne. i cannot believe that grayson hawthorne is commenting on your posts!" alya's harsh look turns gleeful as she rushes towards you and jumps on the couch - careful not to land on your book - and sidle up next to you to gossip.

"so why do we think he's interested in you all of a sudden?"

"he's not interested in me, alys."

"nope, he commented on your insta and your youtube, you're one step away from a marriage proposal now- hey, what type of wedding do you want?"

"we don't know, it could be xander's doing or even max's."

"nope you're gonna have kids together i can feel it."

"alya green-"

"OH MY GOD!!!!" she screeches jumping up and down. "OH MY GOD!!"

"WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?" you shriek back.

"LOOK!" she's grins shoving her phone into your hand

────

graysonhawthorne

liked by thehawthorneheiress, thexanderhawthorne ticking.time.bomb and 3, 622, 484 others

graysonhawthorne 🏛 💭 📖

view all comments

user1 OOHHHHHHHHHHH

user2 im giggling so hard rn i love this man

ticking.time.bomb why the sudden interest in reading gray?? 🤨 i saw the divine rivals copy in your bag

thexanderhawthorne THIS IS WHY HE HAD THAT BOOK?? gray are you trying to steal my book girl?

maxine.liu.loo excuse me she's my book girlie. not yours i just let you borrow her

user3 oh he's obsessed

user4 wish that was me fr

user5 i want himmmm

user6 the book girlies and the grayson girlies really won today

────

"grayson hawthorne," the sound of jameson's voice was never welcome in grayson's bedroom and clearly by the tone of his voice; this wasn't going to be good.

"when were you going to tell me that you picked up a fictional book? he paused. "even more so, when were you going to tell me that you got said fictional book from a 'book queen' of youtube."

grayson paused his reading and put down his copy of divine rivals, to look at a smirking jameson at his doorway.

"leave, jameson."

"okay gray, but let me know how your book goes, i hear it has a really shocking ending," jamie smiles and slowly walks away, calling out to xander to talk about books.

okay maybe his actions were a little out of character, but he wanted to understand what you were going to say in the next video. he wanted to be in the loop, to undertand what you were talking about.

he wanted to have something to talk to you about.

𐔌 . ⋮ ����️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @maybxlle @reminiscentreader, @ecliphttlunar,

@tornqdowarnings, @catapparently, @zenikswaffleshop, @off-to-th-r4aces, @emila07

[imaseabear]

“Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius."

She is one of us. We protect her.”

― Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, The Hawthorne Legacy

[authorscurse]

Love Leaves Scars: Your Move, My Riddle.

[L.L.S. Masterlist] | [G.H. Masterlist] | [M. Masterlist]

Warning: Mention of throwing up and being nauseous, Skye and Asnid having a screaming match, reader has a panic attack and faints, Skye is just being herself, and Tobias being a dickhead. (Tell me if I missed some)

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 1.4k

The room erupted in yells and accusations. And all of them were directed at me and Avery, but I could barely hear them through the ringing in my ears. I had my hand clutched to my chest, and my vision was blurry. My chest was heaving, and I felt myself gasp for air.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

was all I could hear.

I saw the blurry figure of Asnid arguing against Skye Hawthorne, and I tried to call out her name, but no sound came out. I tried to catch a single word that came out of the older Hawthorne's mouth, but it was no use. Her voice was simply hidden away by the loud sounds of my heart beating against my chest. My throat tightened and I felt less and less air enter my body.

"Breathe, Verity, breathe," I kept telling myself, but it was no use. It was as if no amount of reminding could teach me how to breathe. It was like I was underwater, and every intake of breath hurt and made me even more distressed.

I looked down at my hands and they were shaking uncontrollably. I stood up and felt the room spinning as I did so. I reached a shaking hand towards Asnid, but before I could get a hold of her arm, I felt my eyes close.

With one last final gasp of air, I allowed the darkness to embrace me in its warm and comforting embrace. I just hoped I didn't hit my head and bleed to death when I collapsed.

When I regained consciousness, I was laying in a king-sized bed. I blinked once. Twice. Thrice. My eyes adjusted to the bright light coming from the windows. My head was throbbing as I held it in my hands and sighed.

Once the throbbing subsided, I took in my surroundings. The walls were wrapped in a deep red color with gold intricate patterns. The floor was covered in a soft gray-white that tickled my toes as I walked around the room.

While looking around, I wondered if I was dead and this was the place I would be staying in for the rest of my afterlife.

The bed sat in the very middle, and across from it hung a big TV, possibly 55 inches. A small shelf placed below it held different kinds of books, allowing the guests of the room to enjoy and lose themselves in a reality built on words and imagination.

I was so caught up reading the titles on the spines that I failed to hear the door of my room open. It was only when I felt two arms wrap around my body and the flowery scent of the person's clothes invade my senses that I realized I was indeed alive.

"Asnid," I whispered, her name falling off my tongue so smoothly. I felt water dripping down on my neck where Asnid had buried her head. I chuckled softly and pried her head away from my neck. Her eyes and nose were red, and tears continued to stream down her face.

"I'm okay, Asnid, I'm okay," I assured her and placed her hand on my heart. A sob came out of her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I whispered assuring phrases in her ear and gently patted her head.

It went on for a few more minutes before her breathing started to even out. She sniffled into my shirt, and I jokingly told her not to get snot on my favorite shirt. She shoved me away, laughing, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"Good thing Mr. Blonde guy saved your head before you got to hit it, I was so worried, Vers," she told me, holding my head in her hands.

"Grayson," I said under my breath. "Grayson? That's his name?"

I couldn't help but feel a warm, comforting feeling in my chest at the thought of Grayson's actions.

"Stop with the delusions, Verity," a voice in my head said, and I shook my head and closed my eyes. Focus. Focus. Focus. I repeated over and over.

"This bed feels so soft, Verity," Asnid said as she laid down and rolled around the bed in delight. I looked to my side and smiled at her as I watched her move around the bed and try to get comfortable, until something caught my eye.

There, sitting comfortably on my bedside table, was an envelope. To be specific, the envelope that the lawyers had given us before the will reading started.

The memories from the will reading resurfaced in my mind. From the moment we entered the room to the moment they'd announced me as the new owner of Tobias Hawthorne's belongings.

I started feeling the uncomfortable rumbling in my stomach. It made me sick. I felt like throwing up, but I didn't want to ruin and stink up the carpet.

"All remaining monetary assets and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Verity Quinn Rosewood."

The words echoed in my head over and over and over again. The scenes of Asnid and Skye screaming at each other in anger, and Skye pointing her manicured finger at me, accusingly, flashed through my head. Nash and Jameson's laughter. Xander's jokes. Grayson's piercing grey eyes.

"Verity? Are you okay?" Asnid's concerned voice snapped me out of my trance. I tore my eyes away from the envelope and ran a hand through my hair, smiling at her.

I nodded at her, but her eyebrows pinched together, and her eyes continued to stare at me, utterly unconvinced of my response. "Yes, Asnid, I'm fine," I assured her with a soft smile and sat beside her.

Asnid turned to something behind me and reached for something I couldn't see. It wasn't until she placed it on my lap that I realized it was the unopened envelope.

"You should read it," Asnid nodded her head towards the envelope. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Call me if you need me, I'll just go and check on Avery and Libby," Asnid said. I assumed the two other girls were staying in another room outside of mine.

I heard the soft indication of the door opening and closing. A shaky breath left my lips, and I reached for the envelope laying on my lap. My hands shaking slightly as I held the white paper in my hand.

Open it. Open the letter and read what he wrote.

I carefully ripped open the sealed envelope, and a card sat inside, waiting to be read. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

It's just a letter. Just a letter from the man you hate the most.

I took the card out of the envelope and read the words on it. I was expecting maybe a long explanation of why he chose me as his heir, why he chose to ruin my life again. Maybe I was hoping too much that he'd explain why he did what he did.

It was delusional. But I hoped and hoped and hoped. I was slapped awake by my own delusions.

4 words.

16 words.

"Your move, My Riddle."

No other words or letter were written on the paper. After his message, he had written his initials:

T.T.H.

I threw the card beside me on the bed and cradled my head in my hands. Anger, betrayal, and frustration bubbled in my chest. I wanted to scream and break something to let out my frustration, but I was sure it would be no use.

It would not help me in the slightest. It would not help my ongoing anger towards the now deceased Tobias Hawthorne.

T.T.H.

"Your move, My Riddle."

Riddle...

The words swarm in my head, and I could feel the pain pinching itself in my head once again. I was forced to recall all the times he called me that nickname. The number of times he used to congratulate me with that nickname. The number of times he prompted me to start my move in chess with that nickname.

"Your move, My Riddle."

My Riddle...

I hastily reached for the card again and noticed something I hadn't seen when I first read it.

Your move. My Riddle.

It was not an apostrophe, but a period.

My breath caught in my throat as the words started to make sense now.

It was an indication. He wasn't calling me "my riddle"; he wasn't just saying the phrase he used to say whenever we played chess. Now, this was no longer the chess game we played when I was younger. It wasn't just his little games we played during the weekends.

Tobias Hawthorne. Even in death, you are playing your silly little riddles.

I hurriedly ran to my door and yanked it open. "Asnid—" I began, but the rest of the words I wanted to say became air. Because standing in front of me was none other than Grayson Hawthorne.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

[inmyheaddd]

when you're close to me - grayson hawthorne x reader

summary: trying to get grayson hawthorne to have a reset day— lots of laughs... lots of kisses... not much of the reset day actually taking place... wc: 1.2k

grayson stood in front of you, hands resting on your waist as you sat on top of the sink counter and held his chin with one hand, the other carefully applying a facemark on his forehead with a brush. you focused on your task, determined to make it look perfect.

you had ordered him to close his eyes so you could put the mask on, even though he didn’t need to— not in any sense that was practical— but it was simply because his gaze was making you far too flustered to focus on the task at hand. the fact that he was this close only made it more difficult. 

“i don’t see why this is necessary,” grayson mumbled, his eyes still shut as you let go of his chin to hold his hair back.

“because,” you reasoned with a hum in your voice, “it just is.” you paused for a moment, “this is how reset days work. you’ve been so caught up in work, so let me just… do this for you.” you mumbled, evening out the shape of the grey mask on his forehead.

“i don’t need a reset day,” he countered calmly, “i’m fine.”

you almost let out a snort. “you most definitely do need a reset day.” 

grayson let out a slow exhale. “i’ve handled the past 20 years of my life without one. but, thank you for your consideration.”

you rolled your eyes affectionately, though he couldnt even see you. 

“thank you for your consideration,” you mumbled under your breath in mockery of his words. you huffed, “i’m going to kill you.” you were still muttering to yourself, to which you heard him laugh and open his eyes at. 

grayson tilted his head to the side, raising one of his brows up at you before he asked, “i’m sorry?”

“you heard me,” you responded, lowering your voice to add to the effect, “i know people…” you were happy to see his eyes again and see how they glittered with humour in this moment, but you couldn’t help but chide him for disrupting your ever-so-important endeavour of applying his facemask. “and, stop moving.” you continued as you pressed a thumb under his jaw, turning his face toward you again.

grayson ignored your ominous and extremely serious threat and closed his eyes again with the barest hint of a smile on his face. 

he stilled for a long moment, and you were getting along quite nicely with the mask, and you were even about to move to the rest of his face. that was until he furrowed his brows again. “may i just ask, what is in this?”

your hand dropped down to your sides with a huff. 

“oh my god,” you shut him up with a laugh as you shut your eyes for a quick moment, “grayson!”

grayson opened his eyes. the corners of his lips flickered up into a smile. 

for a moment, you stayed looking at eachother, feeling your own lips twitch as you held back a smile. it instantly became impossible for the both of you to hold back your laughter anymore. 

usually, you thought perfection was impossible. but it was here, it was effortless with grayson—his head tilted back slightly, grey eyes crinkled, and his usual composure slipping for just a second — beaming with that smile of his that was rare to everyone but you. you wanted to simply kiss his face all over until you were both sick of it. 

clearly, he must’ve been thinking the same thing, as he looked at you with affection swirling behind those icy grey eyes of his. 

a laugh escaped him while he shook his head amusedly, with one of his hands that were previously on your waist moved to cup your cheek, “i deeply apologise, sweetheart.” he murmured lowly, his lips sliding into a coy smile. “i understand your face mask duties hold a lot of importance.”

you yourself were still smiling, “oh shut up, you.” you muttered back, your faces inches apart.  

his gaze flickered to your lips right before you wordlessly leaned in to a kiss. 

at first, you giggled against his lips. that was before melting into the kiss with a lingering smile between you, 

you hopped down from the counter, and wrapped your arms around his neck as his other hand moved to your face. the gentleness of his touch and the kiss sent a swarm of butterflies right to your stomach. 

you felt light on your toes as his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, and you could still feel the slight smile on his lips against you. 

his fingers curled at your waist, not pulling you closer, just resting there, like he liked the feeling of you this close.

and you—god, you could barely think. you just felt. the warmth of his touch, the soft pressure of his lips, the slight tilt of his head as he kept leaning in, deepening the kiss until—

you shrieked. 

you felt something cool, slightly tacky on your forehead…

it was near comical, the way grayson’s brows furrowed so quickly when you pulled back, and just as quickly smoothed over when he saw the laugh on your face.

he was still confused, clearly, but the smile you held soothed his worries. 

he tilted his head, trying to understand. “love,” he searched your eyes fore any hint of explanation, unable to hold back a little smile because of your own laughter. “what’s the matter?”

you covered your mouth, dissolving into a giggling mess. "your forehead," you choked out, wiping your own forehead that was touching his with the back of your hand. “it’s.. it’s wet.”

his expression blanked, a single brow raising in that oh so grayson way of his. and then, realization dawned.

the face mask.

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his face. “that’s enough of this," he muttered, moving past you and turning on the sink.

you were a laughing mess, and you stumbled backwards, leaning against the back wall. you watched him roll his sleeves up and lean over the sink while he washed his face haphazardly— and dried it just as quickly. 

“grayson!” you managed to get out with your little laughs. “why did you wash it off?,” you were the one complaining now, though it was all jokes. you fake pouted, “that was expensive.”

he turned back, and his expression was half amused and half exasperated.

he ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you before he started walking to you. “i washed it off,” he started lowly as he got to you in two strides, “so i’d be able to do this.”

you fought back a smile, and kept your eyes on him as he got to you.  those same butterflies erupted in your stomach tenfold when his hands went to your waist, pulling you into him before his lips pressed into yours. 

just moments before, you were smiling because of laughter, but this time you were unable to stop the grin on your face because you simply felt so.. peaceful. fulfilled, even. you doubted you could ever get sick of being like this with him.

one hand moved to hold where your jaw met your neck, pulling you closer. 

no interruptions this time.

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 @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @apollospoem@jjsblueberry @yayyy-insecurities @thechildofshadows

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: two hearts, too good at breaking

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: this argument has been needing to happen for a while but an angry girlfriend and a closed off boyfriend are not a good mix…

warnings:

a/n: thanks for reading 💗💗

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 @eternal--dream @shattered-glass-roses @book-nerd-emi

I spin around, anger has me in a chokehold contorted fingers wrapped tightly around my neck, I’m ready to burst, “is this what it’s going to be like?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Grayson scoffs, with an expression that doesn’t betray any hint of emotion if he is feeling it.

Typical man with his typical habits. I wish for once he’d just show me that he at least cared about this. Us.

“Don’t twist this Grayson, don’t you dare,” I seethe, my eyes blazing with some sort of wildfire that would surely burn him alive, “don’t make me the problem.”

He leans back lazily, resting his weight on the counter, “I’ll be the problem then, that’s fine,” he shrugs nonchalantly, making me want to punch him even more than I already did.

How could he act so cool and collected? As if none of this was actually bothering him? How was it fair? I could feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes and the lump wedged in my throat rapidly expanding. I don’t want to be this emotional, I don’t want him to know how much this is hurting me.

“No,” I reply coldly, abruptly.

I try to mirror him, pushing down all my own feeling and casting my mind to a blank state so that my feelings could not penetrate.

“Then what do you want?” he asks, a dead withered look flashing across his gray eyes.

I make a frustrated noise. So much for staying unbothered. My emotions tend to run riot with an odd reckless abandon, I couldn’t contain them no matter how hard I tried.

He’s twisting my words, playing with them like a well fed cat would a dead bird, “it’s not about what I want,” I hiss.

He raises an eyebrow sharply, “seems like it,” he deadpans.

“So you’re happy like this?” I snap, “this constant tension between us, the aching silences, avoiding this argument all the time?”

It had been going on for far too long now and I am too exhausted, drained with the weight of it all. He could shut it out, he could close off his feelings, he could easily stay unaffected through avoidance. But me? I’m not like that. Every tiny thing hit my heart with a tiny bullet, slowly bleeding it dry.

“You’re the one who created tension in the first place,” he replies with a snarl, a glimmer of anger seeping through his composure.

Good. At least I know there is something beneath his stupid defence mechanism, something that maybe even cared.

“No I didn’t,” I counter fiercely, “things got hard for you and you ran off alone and then came back and acted if nothing had even happened.”

“What do you want me to do, wallow?” he sneers, “did you want me to come home and cry in your arms? I have a life, I need to get on with it.”

“Oh thanks,” I laugh bitterly, running my fingers through the knots in my ponytail, “no what I wished you would’ve done was at least address that you’d gone, why you’d gone, how we were going to work things out, but you didn’t! You did nothing!”

“Why keep bringing up the parts of the past we want to forget?” he asks me, some sort of strain ripping across the middle of his sentence.

“Because you can’t just bury everything under the carpet,” I sigh, tired of the endless row of bulletproof walls he puts up to keep me out, “eventually it’s going to all be revealed.”

“So what you’re asking me to do is tell you every minor inconvenience in my life,” he states flatly, “as if discussing them will make them magically disappear.”

“I’m not asking for that,” I snap, before reeling my annoyance in for a moment, my voice softens, “I’m asking for you to trust me.”

We can’t keep on like this, it’s not healthy, it’s not right, it’s not normal.

“I do trust you,” he replies, without missing a beat.

It’s an instant reaction, a reflex but they’re still empty words. He wants to trust me, but he can’t. I can see it so clearly in those glossy gray eyes.

“It’s clear you don’t,” I reply, “you don’t tell me anything, you don’t talk about your feelings-“

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he tells me numbly.

My heart almost gives in to his blank face and deadened eyes. It hurts to see him so devoid of emotion, so empty. I wish sweet kisses and loving whispers could wash away all that was wrong, but I fear there’s too much for even the ocean to clean.

I shake my head, “you can’t play the hardcore card with me.”

“I’m not playing any card,” he snaps, his face contorts into a sour and twisted look, “my life isn’t a game.”

Idiot me, using a card comparison. It’s like rubbing salt in his open wounds and watching them marinate.

“I know it’s not,” I say gently.

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second before they iced over again. The bitter frost would take a lot more than a kind voice to thaw. He breathes deeply.

“I need to get out of here,” Grayson says, standing up to make a b-line for the door.

I lunge forwards and stand in front of him, arms folded. I look up at him, wide eyes pinning him into place. He stops, almost frozen and stares right back at me.

Of course he could’ve easily walked around me, lifted me up and moved me out of the way or simply just told me to stop. But he does nothing at all and continues staring dead at my face.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really.

“You’re not leaving again,” I tell him firmly, “you can’t just walk out when things get hard, that’s not how we work.”

He sighs and turns around, walking back to the kitchen. I follow. He leans against the counter top, arms folded. In any other situation I would’ve found this incredibly attractive.

“How do we work then?” he finally asks me, more quietly than he’d probably intended.

I look at him with tender eyes and say seven small words, “I need you to need me too.”

“I do need you,” he replies fiercely, a fire in his eyes reminding me of my own for a moment, something I couldn’t ignore.

He does care. He cares like I care.

“You don’t act like it,” I shake my head, biting my lip to stop the tears from spilling over.

And then something snaps and it’s not me this time.

“But I do!” he raises his voice, a desperate longing vibrating across his vocal chords, “you know I do!”

“No I don’t,” I explode, blinded by my own white hot anger, “you keep everything so bottled up!”

“I don’t,” the words are sharp and definitive, ending with a hard monotonous sound.

I groan in frustration, contemplating ripping my hair out, “why won’t you ever just let me all the way in?”

“I can’t,” he falters, maybe the first glimpse of the real him I’ve seen in this whole conversation.

He looks down at the floor, his head dipping down slightly. Grayson Hawthorne always held his head high. I’d broken him.

“Why can’t you,” I press on further, like a child still trying to play with a broken toy.

I know I shouldn’t push him, I know I’m being impatient but I have to know why. I’ve tried the patient route but it hasn’t worked.

My heart won’t beat for anyone else the way it beats for him. I love him too much to let this end over a miscommunication, we’ve been through too much to throw it all away. Whatever it is, we’ve always gotten through it, that’s how we work. I’m not letting go, even if he thinks he wants to.

“I just can’t,” he says to me, as if that explained it all.

An internal argument flickers across his face, his eyebrows draw themselves closer in the slightest of ways and I can see he’s biting the inside of his lip so hard I fear it might bleed.

“That’s not an answer Grayson,” I reply, not backing down, my rational thoughts are consumed by feeling, governed by pure heart and no head at all.

He runs a hand through his hair, all the way to the back of his neck, “I can’t do this.”

“What? This? This relationship?” I question trying not to let the fear creep into my voice.

“No, of course not,” he snaps with an eye roll, causing me to deepen my scowl, “why can’t you just accept that I can’t let you in?”

Oh if only it were that easy.

“Because,” I shout, “you’re meant to be able to trust me with everything and anything.”

“Well I don’t,” Grayson snaps back, his tone bitter like the cud, “I don’t trust anyone, don’t take it so personally.”

Tears spring back to my eyes, my voice quietens, “I’m not anyone.”

“No…” he exhales shakily, pausing for a while, “…you’re not.”

Silence engulfs us, its flames happily licking at our feet. I feel the weight of his gaze against mine, our eyes locked together in a trance. In the space of no words, too much is said.

He looks like he’s physically in pain. The dark circles rimmed under his eyes are bolder than ever, thick smears of black, like war paint. His cheeks seem hollower, his eyes less bright. Am I stealing his spark? Is this my doing? As if he can read me, like an open book, he shakes his head in the slightest of ways. If I’d blinked I might’ve missed it.

“You can’t keep doing what you’re doing,” I murmur hoarsely, unable to control my own voice, “it’s not fair on me and it’s not fair on you.”

He breathes out deeply, his voice low, almost husky, “some things are just too much, okay?”

“Nothing should be too much for love,” I say darkly, taking a step towards him.

He doesn’t back away but doesn’t move any closer to me. Again, he enters his paralysis. I dare to get closer still and then ever closer. I trail gentle hands up his arms, shoulders, then neck until finally they reach the sides of his face. I pull his towards me, so his forehead is pressed against mine. I can feel him breathing, the soft warm air tickling my face.

“I am here Grayson,” I whisper, a tears falling from each eye, spilling over only to roll down my cheek and land on his shirt, “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands find their way to my waist, his fingers tighten around it, knuckles going white.

“If I let you all the way in,” he chokes out, “you’ll see me for who I really am…” everything falls still, time itself stops, “…and everyone who has ever seen that part of me walks away.”

My heart twists, aching and throbbing in my chest.

“It’s not pretty sweetheart, it’s not pretty at all,” his voice shakes. It is soft, so vulnerable, so open.

He’s trying to show me he does trust me, he just doesn’t know how to let himself. The tenderness intertwined in his tone is enough to make me melt.

“And I don’t think I can afford to watch you walk away,” he shake his head, eyes glossy with tears, “I’m selfish like that my love, I don’t want you to leave.”

I shake my head, biting my lip to prevent a sob for escaping. You’re not selfish is what I want to tell him but I can’t formulate words. Tears freely pool down my cheeks and even Grayson lets one slip. It slowly trails down his cheek, leaving a glistening path behind it.

All the words I want to say get lodged in my throat, so I bring his face closer to mine still and let my lips do the talking.

His face is hot against mine, his hands feverishly cling to every inch of my body. The kiss tastes like a mixture of salt and passion and anger and fear and all of the feelings in between. I could feel his agony on my tongue like he could feel my fury.

I kiss him more roughly, not bothering to contemplate that either of us might need to draw back for breath. He needs this, I need this. Grayson’s hands find their way to my hair, clamping around large thick chunks of it, fingers getting lost and tangled between the strands. Not that either of us care. He’s craving me now more than ever, I can feel his mouth desperately crashing into mine. I bite his bottom lip gently and he a strange sort of sound escapes the back of his throat, something between pleasure and pain.

We continue until our lungs physically burn and force us to stop. I rest back, gulping in as much oxygen as I can. My lips tingle as my chest heaves up and down rapidly. My hands are almost shaky.

I look up to meet his gray eyes. His face is flushed and lips red raw. He looks more alive than I’d seen him in a while. He almost manages a smile, eyes hungrily grazing over my whole body.

He sighs, still out of breath, “what’s even wrong with the way we are now?”

“You’re seriously asking?” I ask. He stays silent. “We can’t just kiss and make up.”

“Why?” Grayson says, something pleading in his expression.

“You know why,” I falter, closing my eyes and massaging my temples, my head thumping all of a sudden.

“What is so bad that we can’t just leave our argument here and move on?” he asks me, something lighting up on his face, some false hope that I’ll soon be to one to crush.

I sigh, falling into a silence of my own. I usually have all the words to say. I still do, too many in fact so I take my time to choose carefully. He almost seems impatient for my answer.

“You don’t communicate,” I say softly, the truth harder said than I’d imagined.

He snarls at me, “I can’t communicate when you don’t say anything.”

“I’m saying everything now,” I tell him, more emotion pouring itself into my tone without being invited to, “but you’re refusing to hear me.”

I wonder if his lips miss mine as much as I miss his. I keep having to scold myself to not glance at them. If only this could all be solved with a kiss.

“I’m not refusing,” he presses on, his jaw tense, “I just don’t understand.”

“Okay maybe this’ll make it clearer,” I state simply, “you don’t get to shut me out.”

Bitter. Harsh. Cold. All the things I loathe coming out of my own mouth. It is the bluntest way I could’ve put things.

He shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “you say you understand me but you don’t, if you understood me you’d know that this is how I deal with pain.”

“That’s not healthy,” I bite back with a bold ferocity.

“It might not be healthy but it’s me,” he tells back, hitting his chest, “take it or leave it.”

“Neither,” I snap, folding my arms and standing my ground with a look of challenge written across my face.

He looks exhausted, “it can’t be all your way all of the time.”

I am exhausted too, “I’m asking you to open up to me,” I say, my throat sore and dry, “why is it so difficult?”

“It just is.”

“Look I’ve given you time Grayson,” I tell him desperation creeping up into my voice, another uninvited visitor, “I’ve done my waiting and I’ve given you space and I haven’t complained but it’s been years and it’s taking a toll, surely if you don’t feel at ease to open up to me now then you never will. I mean you talk to your brothers about everything, why do I know less than them? We’ve been together two years Grayson, two whole years!”

“And I knew Emily my whole life,” he practically growls, each word venomous, a poison spat into my face.

The taste of his lips sour in my mouth and my face immediately pales. I stop, freeze, my body stills completely. I don’t even realise I’m holding my breath until my lungs beg me for oxygen.

So that’s what he thinks. That’s why he can’t trust me.

“You think I’m like her?” I say, my words so quiet I don’t think they can qualify as spoken.

“That’s not what I meant,” Grayson says immediately, the guilt settling.

“You think I’d do something like that to you,” I ask slowly, carefully.

“No,” he tells me, reaching out to touch my arms. I pull away, I can’t have his fingers on my skin. He hides his hurt well, just not well enough from me. “But you have to understand I was played once and I won’t be again.”

My heart drops, plummeting into the acid in my stomach. I’m empty. An odd sort of numbness crawls under my skin, creating a barrier between my flesh and hot blood so I can’t feel anymore.

“I really thought you knew me,” I whisper, my chest aching in the absence of what‘s supposed to beat there.

“I do,” he says.

I shook my head, “if you knew me you know I’d never do that.”

“I didn’t mean to-“

“Bring up your awful ex and compare me to her?” I snarl, the emptiness leaving more space to fuel the fire of rage within me.

He sighs, “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“You think?” I raise a brow, hugging my folded arms tighter my body in attempts to assert a challenge.

He grits his teeth. He hates her sarcasm. “I don’t have time for this,” he snaps, turning on his heel to walk out. I’ve pushed him over the edge.

“You never have time for this,” I scoff, throwing my hands up into the air as I follow him, “you can’t avoid me forever, you can’t hide behind paraphrases and excuses,” I cut in front of him, “it’s not fair.”

“That’s not fair?” he laughs, the sound hollow as it bounces off of these four walls, “you know what’s not fair? This. This, here what you’re doing to me,” he seethes, “why are you making me feel guilty for who I am?”

“This is not who you are,” I bite back, “I know you Grayson Hawthorne, I know ever inch of you, every curve of your body, every fibre of your being. I know what makes you laugh and what makes you cry, I know when you’re trying to hide your pain, I know how to read your eyes, I know where your favourite place to be kissed is, I know how you take your coffee, I know why you sleep on your side, I know when you like to go for a swim and how it makes you feel, I know what you’ve been through, I know your deepest fears, I know who your grandfather was and what you think of yourself because of it. I know the immense pressures you put on yourself, I know the expectations of yourself you have, I know how you view your being, how often you judge it. I know why the violin is your favourite and what Frank Sinatra song you’d listen to forever. I know you’re long sighted because you read too much when you were younger so you have to wear glasses. I know you Grayson,” I say, pausing for air, “and this coward in front of me is not you, it will never be you.”

Silence hits me like a bullet train. All the air is knocked from my lungs leaving my belly aching.

“Clearly you don’t know me well enough,” he says roughly, his voice is hoarse and jagged like his voicebox has been scratched, “because this is me, all of me.”

“It isn’t and you know it,” I reply searching his face with desperate eyes. He’s masking his feelings, it’s an instinct, his instinct. This argument is pushing him further away from me.

He looks at me, “do I?”

“Yes,” my voice shatters as I run my fingers through my hair, “I love you goddamit Grayson Hawthorne.”

“People have lied with those words before,” he quips, the bitter taste of betrayal probably still dancing on his tongue.

I can’t stop myself from flinching. The words sting like a fresh slap across the face. He almost looks sorry.

“Can’t you see I mean it?” I murmur, emotion swelling in my chest.

“I don’t know anymore,” he says, digging the knife deeper into my wound, “I don’t know who to trust, what I can trust, even my own judgment.”

“Me,” I beg him, shakily breathing in, taking his hands into my own, “trust me.”

He stares for a moment, his eyes and my own connected on an invisible string that seemed it would never break. I squeeze his fingertips gently as my own voice echos in my head. Me. Trust me.

I wonder if he can hear it too.

He pulls away and shakes his head, “you want something perfect.”

“I never said that,” I explode immediately, my temper with a mind of its own, “you’re putting words into my mouth-“

“But we’re not Avery and Jameson,” he says slowly, almost carefully.

The comment catches me off guard completely and I still. Is that what he really thinks? My hands, now glued to my sides begin to shake a little. I try my very hardest not to lose it.

“I don’t want to be Avery and Jameson,” I tell him firmly.

“Then stop acting like it,” Grayson seethes, with a raw sort of anger he usually keeps so well in check.

“I’m not!” I yell, letting my own rage run free like a burst of lighting cursing a stormy sky, “you’re just jealous that your brother handles his feelings and actually talks about them with his girlfriend.”

“I am not jealous,” he grits through his teeth.

“And you’re too proud to admit any of it,” I add more fuel to the fire. I can’t help myself. I’m flawed in the same way that he is too, I’m too angry and he’s too suppressed. I’m striking too many nerves and he’s constantly blocking my love.

What a mess we are.

“So what is it exactly that you’d like me to do” he asks me, each word coated with the sourest venom, “waddle home and cry my sorrows to you each evening? Should we make a club?”

“Oh don’t be facetious,” I tusk, rolling my eyes at him.

“I’m just asking,” he shrugs, taking a step in, “what is it that you would like me to do?”

He knows what he’s doing and he’s enjoying it. My face screws up in annoyance.

“It’s not that simple,” I say, “and you know it.”

“Oh,” he replies, amused suddenly. The sudden change in persona made me uneasy, it’s as if he is changing tactics in his head. He steps another inch closer to me, “so you can have things that aren’t simple to explain but I can’t?”

Yet again my words have been twisted by the master of loopholes.

“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” I tell him.

“No I think you are!” he says, his face achingly close to my own, “let’s not forget when I left for three days, I came back to a girlfriend who wouldn’t talk to me.”

His lips sit there with a taunting temptation. I want them.

“Because you left me for three days,” I snap. I feel him exhale. “No word, no warning, just a message through your brothers and then you come back and say nothing,” I almost laugh, “you think I don’t know that you’re in pain, you think that’s not killing me inside?”

“I don’t want my pain to be yours too,” he raises his voice, sending my head pounding.

“When are you going to get it into your head?” I falter, the agony ripping across my raw throat, “we’re meant to share the good times and the bad, we don’t get to choose.”

“But I am choosing,” he tells me, jabbing the left side of his chest harshly, “and I’m choosing only the good.”

“That’s what you don’t understand,” I say, only just realising my face was damp, “this is what comes from hiding from the bad, this explosion of an argument that’s making us fall apart.”

Grayson shakes his head, stubbornly, running a hand over his mouth, “this argument is a result of us both being over stressed and over tired.”

“You’re in denial constantly,” I sob, “about everything, even this.”

“In denial?” he sneers, “fine, you want the truth? This, whatever we’re doing now, is killing me, it’s tearing my insides apart, I can feel my heart being picked apart bit by bit, still beating, still bleeding but slowly dying and I can’t do a thing about it.”

“I can do something, let me do something,” I beg him, my lips quivering, as I cling to his arms, my last desperate attempt to make him see.

He stares at me, his knuckle grazes my cheek wiping away my tears. He bites his lip and shakes his head, “you can’t help me. I think I’m past the point of help.”

“You have to try Grayson,” I whisper my voice shaking like a child left in the cold, “please.”

His hands are now on my hips and they suddenly grip tighter, “…I can’t.”

Everything in me falls down, plummeting into the core of the earth to be incinerated. I can only look at him, his darkened eyes and paled face. He looks sad, empty, lonely.

“What will make you happy again?” I ask him in a murmur.

“You make me happy,” his voice breaks, “we make each other happy.”

I shake my head with a trembling bottom lip. “I don’t think we do anymore.”

He looks like physically in pain and I wonder if his internal organs also feel like they’re being squeezed.

“Why don’t we just break up then?” he whispers.

I stop. The world stops. My heart stops. My head stops. Everything is blank, like a canvas that was bought to be painted but will never be beautiful. The words register in my brain but somehow I still don’t quite understand them. My chest throbs and my legs are like jelly.

“What?”

My voice is barely audible in the silence and when it does finally sounds sort of strangled.

“You said it yourself,” he says, a single tear rolling slowly down his cheek, “we don’t make each other happy, I’m hurting you and you’re hurting me, is there not only one solution to solve it?”

He wants to break up.

It hits me hard, knocking everything out of me. I can’t breathe. I jerk out of his touch immediately, recoiling from the feeling of his fingers on my hips. My face burns as tears uncontrollably pour down my face.

“Fine,” I say, my voice wobbling like a newborn calf trying to walk.

“Fine,” he snaps after me.

We stand there in silence and stare. Neither of us move, it’s like our feet are glued to the floor and our muscles have stopped working altogether. Neither of us want this to be the end but somehow it’s already ended. It’s so quiet I can hear him breathing. I want to forget it all, this day, this argument, this tension. But we can’t change any of it.

Not now.

“I’m leaving,” I tell him finally breaking the silence.

As I turn I hope he might call out after me and tell me to stay, hoping someone might wake me up from this horrible dream, hoping it’s all some elaborate joke that had been taken to far.

None of that happened.

I don’t even look back. I just leave. I don’t know where I’m going. I just run. By the time I collapse I’m on the pavement, heaving for breath like a madwoman. My legs just give way beneath and I crumble to the floor. My face is wet before the rain starts. What have I done?

I knowww some of you are desperate for the dancer and the angel part 5 and I actually PROMISE this time it’ll be the next TIG fic out!! Hope you enjoyed this one anywayysys 💖💖

TIG masterlist

[po1sonous-l0ve]

~♡Early Mornings♡~

Warnings: none!

Grayson was a morning person.

You, however, were not.

"Grayson," you mumbled sleepily. "Come back to bed."

"It's 7 am, darling, I need to get up."

"Why?" You pouted, grabbing his arm, dragging him back. "It's not like you have anything important to do.

"My work with the law firm is important," Grayson explained patiently.

"More important than me?"

With a sigh, Grayson shook his head. "No. Not more important than you." He didn't complain as you dragged him back to bed, burying your face in his chest. Brushing your loose hair from your face, he whispered in your ear quietly. "Don't expect this to happen a lot. This is a one time thing."

It was not a one-time thing.

[xoxochb]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ - salut mon amours!

“get over here.”

in one swift movement, your fist wraps around the fabric of grayson’s shirt, tugging him back against you alongside his mouth.

your grasp loosens on his top and you use your now unoccupied arms to slide around his shoulders. grayson steadies you with two solid hands to your hips, while he makes his best attempt to once again depart his lips from yours.

he’s lucky since your hold on him isn’t anything but light. you frown at his departure. though in return, he kisses your nose as you scrunch it.

“you can’t keep me here all day.”

“yes I can! you can be my prisoner. I’ll even let you open the window occasionally if you’re good.” you nod enthusiastically with a bright grin.

grayson looks at you like you’ve grown extra heads. “no.”

“what if I gate off an area in the field and I let you get yard time?”

“sweetheart—”

“and you can sleep in my cozy bed and I’ll light my scented candle and let you watch my television…”

“(name).”

“… but I won’t put handcuffs on you because I think you’re pretty well behaved. you never know, though. were you a disobedient child? I’ll ask nash later…”

“(name).”

“… and I won’t put you in an orange jumpsuit either, I don’t think orange is your color, no offense. maybe blue, though, that would bring out your eyes…” you touch your index just below his right eye. “and what are your opinions on eating in bed? do you think it’s unsanitary or do you think— mphm…”

your ramble is cut off by grayson’s mouth to yours. fucking finally. you suppress a smile, too utterly happy to break the kiss you’d yearned for.

he’d been attempting to leave for fifteen minutes, most likely already late to whatever bullshit he had planned— though in your defense love prevails all.

and apparently so does grayson hawthorne’s need for oxygen as he pulls back. you’d frown but he looks very handsome and it’s difficult to keep an upset face.

you cup his cheeks between your palms. “you’re free. bail’s been made.”

“I’m also…” grayson brings his wrist to his gaze to check the time on his wristwatch. “twenty minutes late.”

“better late than nothing!”

his brows furrow. “that’s what you said when your menstruation was two weeks late.”

“but!— I still got it, didn’t I? do you see a baby anywhere here?” you extend your arm to the expanse of the room.

“no. but that didn’t exempt me of a heart attack.”

you huff and unravel yourself from his arms. “goodbye, grayson hawthorne.”

“this is ludicrous. you begged me to stay like a whining toddler and now you’re sending me away like a husband to war.”

“you have a meeting to get to, yes? and if you’re a good prisoner and listen to me, I’ll offer you yard time this afternoon.”

“I don’t want yard time.”

you huff and peck each of his cheeks, ushering him out the bedroom door. “goodbye, grayson hawthorne!”

[likestxrlight]

𝄞 » true north grayson hawthorne x reader ๑◝

(🪩) ─── skiing with grayson at the slopes of true north, except he's a born natural at the sport, and you're... you. ʚɞ °｡⋆ ⸜ there's no actual skiing due to the fact that i have no idea how to write action

with the air of someone who did this on a daily basis (you've never touched a ski in your life), you point your finger at the tallest slope, lips stretched into a wide grin. "that one," you announce. grayson's eyes flicker between you and the ski slope like a ping-pong match, eyebrows cocked as if to ask if you had a death wish.

his gaze told you more than he ever would, that your over-confidence would get you killed someday― perhaps even today.

"i know what you're going to say," you begin, raising a flat hand in front of his face, "and no, i will not attempt first at the beginner hills." you made a sour face. "there's no fun in that."

"i'm assuming a trip to the emergency room is fun, then?"

the bitter expression deepened, but quickly dissolved when grayson cracked a rare smile. his hand curved around your waist, thumbing the pocket at the side of your puffer jacket. "skiing is more than just point and go, i hope you know that."

"oh, but i have you with me!" you burrow into the slight warmth provided by his body towering over yours. "you're a pro at this, yes? triple-gold medal at the olympics, perchance?"

"not yet."

seventeen failed attempts later and counting, you were no more likely to skiing gracefully than grayson was to doing the macarena in a tutu and glitter eyeshadow.

"eighteenth times the charm?" you murmur feebly, arms stretched out on the snow. grayson stood over your starfish form, shaking his head in amusement touched with exasperation. "that's not the saying," he comments. his blond hair peeked out from under his ski helmet, snow frosting the tips, and despite the wrung-out mess you were on the ground, you still found it in yourself to find that attractive.

really, anything the man did was attractive, but there was something to him being shabby and tousled that just did it for you.

"i think you've endured enough agony for the day," he decreed, extending a hand for you to take and haul yourself up. "you're not going to get any better at this―" that earned him a light punch to the chest, "―so i speak for the both of us when i say that we should call it day and head back."

you let out a long-suffering sigh, your free hand reaching up to tug the plastic-rimmed ski googles away from his beautiful blue eyes. the sigh was resignation enough, and grayson took it as one, pressing his cold mouth to your temple, then trailed his lips down to yours. your goggles got in the way, but were hastily pushed up to your brow.

one final kiss in between your eyes, at the bridge of your nose, and he pulled away.

"we should do this again sometime," he said, hooking his ski poles under his arm and, with his free hand, intwined your fingers together. snow fell from the heavens then, an appropriate end to your eventful trip. and certainly not the last one; grayson seemed keen to do this again, regardless of how much of a walking disaster you were.

"yes. we should."

© likestxrlight 2025

[kit4strophe]

dating grayson hawthorne <3

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