#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

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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】

[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.”

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part one

⤷ “can you see me? im waiting for the right time. i can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.”

summary: you and grayson hawthorne’s friendship is one that stretches over a long time. its a friendship that you cherish with your heart, and it’s also one that can be far too confusing for your own sake sometimes. warnings: glasses!grayson, reader & grayson are so oblivious it hurts a/n: new possible grayson childhood bsfs-to-lovers series??! wc: 1.5k masterlist || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

you lay on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with your face in your hands.

next to you was grayson, sitting up against the headboard, typing up something as he listened to you rant about your day. 

“he’s genuinely the worst teacher i’ve ever had, you know what he told me on the last non uniform day we had?” your legs were bent at the knee, swinging back and forth in the air as you ranted, your eyes on grayson, as his eyes were on his laptop. 

“he asked me if i got into a bike accident on the way to school, because i wore ripped jeans.”

grayson hummed, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to his laptop. “ignore him, he’s trying too hard to be funny,” he commented with his voice taking on a hint of disgust,, “and miserably failing.” he added, as he adjusted his glasses on his nose bridge. “you have better things to focus on than strange men with their strange humor.” 

you let out a chuckle through your nose, “yeah, i guess. very strange men indeed.” 

you didn’t really wait for a response, as you continued to talk about your day and little things that happened. “oh!” you piped up,“and guess what?” 

that’s how it always was with you and grayson, you talked — a lot, and he listened. 

—

you walked over to the corner where a little blonde boy sat, sorting a puzzle by himself while all the other kids sat in the middle, a big bundle of chaos, toys, giggles, and shouts. 

“um, excuse me? i have a question.” you stood, your hands clasped behind your back as you swayed gently side to side. 

the boy— who you later learned to be grayson hawthorne, didn’t answer, only looking up at you in curiosity as a puzzle piece fell out of his hand. 

you took that as an invitation, clearing your throat before you spoke, “why don’t you play with everyone else over there?” you asked, pointing to where all the other kids sat. it was halfway through the year, and he never once sat with the other kids, even when teachers asked him to. 

you always found yourself absentmindedly looking at him as you played with friends, wondering why.

he was silent for a moment, and you debated going back. “i don’t really like kids.” he said quietly, his eyes back on the puzzle as he looked for the next piece. 

you giggled like he had said the most outrageous statement ever, “but you’re a kid, silly.” you said, taking a step closer and sitting down next to him unpromptedly.

“well, i don’t like those kids.” he said, eyes meeting yours and then he looked you up and down, surprised at the fact that you were sitting so close to him. 

“why are you sitting next to me?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise and question as he looked at you. 

“um…” you trailed off, “because we’re friends now, duh.” you flashed him a big smile, shrugging your shoulders. 

—

he also made you laugh, and was there for you, and gave you advice, and helped you when you needed it, and he —well, he was just a really perfect friend in general. he always has been, since you were in the second grade. 

“i’m getting glasses,” you said in a singsong voice, “isn’t that crazy?”

“you’re getting glasses?” he arched a brow up at you, with an almost-barely-there smile.

“yeah,” you said through a chuckle, “i think it’s the universes way of getting me back for making fun of you, way back when you first got them.” 

grayson let out a breathy laugh and looked down at you, his gaze unwavering. “i distinctly remember you telling me how thankful you were to have 20/20 vision.”

“yeah, well…” you stifled a laugh, “you know what?” you voice perked up, a hint of humor present. “at least i know i’m gonna look better than you in them.” 

a smile found your face as you teased him— though deep down his glasses were one of your favorite things about him. 

the funny thing is, you distinctly remember teasing him about them to cover up just how much you adored them on him. 

—

“we aren’t friends. i don’t know you.” the little furrow in his brows only deepened as he looked at you.

“okay, well, i’m your friend. you don’t have to be my friend.” you shrugged simply, as you searched for the next puzzle piece on the floor, putting it into place once you did.

he watched you in silence, like you were saying something completely foreign to him, “but that’s rude of me, and it’s unbalanced,” his brows furrowed, his lips almost in a pout like he was severely stressed about this.

“okay, then just be my friend!” you smiled brightly at him once again, “problem solved.” you added, the look on your face a complete contrast to his — which was very confused. 

“but, friends are people who just want something from you. family always comes first.” he replied, like it was a rehearsed line he had heard a thousand times from someone else in his life. 

you wondered what kind of monster told him that, and you were determined on changing his mind. 

“what? no! friends are the best people you can find in the whole world. they’re your ‘family number two.’” you told him, but he didn’t seem convinced as he stared at you. “can i make you a proposal?” 

his blonde brows shot to the top of his head, “you want to marry me?” his eyes went wide as he slightly scooted back from you. 

“no, dummy! i meant like a deal,” you hummed, “i think i meant proposition…” you mumbled under your breath, more to yourself than to him.  

—

grayson smiled at you, his gaze unwavering. “oh, surely. without a doubt.” 

you gasped in mock offense, bringing yourself to sit up fully as you looked at him. “is that sarcasm you’re giving me, hawthorne?” 

grayson didn’t say anything in response, only laughing under his breath and shaking his head, returning back to typing whatever he was doing earlier. 

“you’re so rude, i don’t like you.” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest, sitting so close to him that you could rest your head on his shoulder. 

his eyes found you on his shoulder. though you didn’t meet his gaze, you definitely felt it. “well, i’m stuck with you forever, aren’t i?”

“yeah, unfortunately for me.” you said through an exhale. “i’m deeply regretting my choices right now.”  you mumbled , but you both knew that wasn’t true.

—

“deal? what deal are you giving me?“ 

“you just have to be my friend until friday! if you don’t like it, i’ll never talk to you again. i pinky swear.” you swore seriously, raising your eyebrows at the end to add to that effect. 

“buuuut,” you added, your voice taking on a complete 180. ”if you like it, even just a little, you’re stuck with me.” you paused for dramatic effect, adding in a singsong voice. “forever and ever.”

—

you felt him chuckle and you found yourself smiling at the mere action. he seemed to never laugh around anyone but you. “you know, that may have been the single choice in my life i don’t regret making.” 

the way he said that nearly undid you. you lifted your head, sitting upright to see him fully. 

your voice came out quieter than you thought it would, with a smile on your lips. “are you being serious?” your eyes searched his face, looking for any signs of teasing, even though you knew you wouldn’t find any. 

his answer was short, but it packed so much. “why wouldn’t i be?” there wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face anymore, and his eyes stayed locked on yours, apart from when they flickered down to your lips for a millisecond. 

“i…” you trailed off, literally at a loss for words as his eyes looked into yours. “i don’t know,” you managed to come up with, eyes glued to his for far too long. 

“sorry,” you said through a laugh, “i don’t know what that was.” you shook your head as you looked back at the bed beneath you. 

you adjusted the way you were sitting, perhaps subconsciously putting a little bit of space between you. well, you had to. 

you couldn’t ruin your friendship because of your silly feelings. it’s part of the reason it’s lasted so long. better to have hidden your feelings and still have him, than speak them aloud and lose him. right? right. 

—

grayson’s eyebrows knitted together as he watched you, noticing the little bit of space you put in between you two as you quickly switched the topic, noticing the way you didn’t look straight up at him for more than 2 seconds, and the way your fingers fiddled with each other. 

he said something wrong, didn’t he? 

in all honestly, he wasn’t listening to a word you said, albeit, you weren’t paying attention to what you were saying either, just letting the words fall of your tongue without even thinking; trying to fill the awkward silence you had put there. 

as he nodded and gave vague responses to you, he replayed all the other moments he had come so close to saying something, something about the way he felt for you, and had felt for god knows how long.  

—

you left his house a few minutes later, pretending to get a text from your friend asking for you urgently. 

in all realness though, you went straight home, lay in bed, and screamed into your pillow. 

‘why did i say that? why can’t i just speak about my feelings? why am i like this?’ were some of the many thoughts that ran through your head like clockwork. 

next time, you promised yourself. next time you would talk about your feelings — or — next time you wouldn’t slip up in the slightest, so that tiny crack that led to said feelings wouldn’t ever show.

you weren’t entirely sure which one of the two you were promising. 

a/n: this was honestly more of a prologue to set the scene, the real stuff comes soon i promise!!

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

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican

[imaseabear]

“Est unus ex nobis. Nos defendat eius."

She is one of us. We protect her.”

― Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, The Hawthorne Legacy

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2 part 4

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @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

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,�� I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[miawastaken]

Grayson Hawthorne is the type of guy who’d learn your native language for you if the two of you dated.

Like I can imagine this man pulling out textbooks from one of the Hawthorne libraries and oh my lord the dedication this man would have is not funny.

He’d have stuff written on his hands to remember, full notebooks of phrases, sentences greetings etc.

Oh and the best part?

He’d probably surprise you on your anniversary by saying something to you in the language.

Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave a 20 minute speech in your language.

Needless to say Graysons love language is definitely taking interests in your interests and quality time in general.

[whousestypewriters]

──── ୨ৎ SMUDGED LIPSTICK — GRAYSON HAWTHORNE + READER ‧₊˚

a/n: hi lovelies guess whos backkk (and with a new fic style because she's lazy at finding pics 😭) anyway no warnings with this one just gray being a cutie and jealous WHICH WE NEED MORE OF OML

"he's still staring at you." the words spoken for what seems like the hundredth time tonight leave your boyfriend - more like bodyguard at this point - as he stares down the unfortunate creature over in the corner.

otherwise known as your ex. aka the human equivalent of a dog shit. literally he's wearing the ugliest brown suit you've ever seen. why did he think dark brown on dark brown on black would suit him again?

"you would only know that if you've been staring at him too, gray," you say as you focus on collecting the small little appetiser that a nearby server is offering you. "we're literally at a function with hundreds of people, its concerning how you keep managing to find him in the crowd."

"he keeps staring at you, and its kind of hard to miss the drool coming out of his mouth." grayson's eyes are sharp when they turn to you. "i don't like it."

"you don't like a lot of things."

"this is in the top two. that and wearing leather pants." you snort and cover your hand over your mouth to try and stop the smile spreading across your face like wildfire. in the two years you and grayson have been dating the leather pants story has come up only four times - and never by grayson.

you were still in the dark about the whole situation until you cornered jameson and xander and demanded they tell you the whole story. you do not regret any of the questionable tactics you used to get it out of them one bit.

grayson eyes you suspiciously and you sober quickly deciding to drag him along the room and look for a place to sit. thats a better idea than explaining you know about the story and fight the urge to take a photo every time you see leather pants and send it to gray.

the night proceeds on and just as you think you're in the clear for not hearing another word about your trash bag ex, he shows his face. fun.

"what do you want?" grayson's voice is cold and sharp before your ex can get a word in.

"to say hi."

"you said it now leave."

"nonsense, i want to get to know the stunning lady on your arm."

ok gross. no. ew.

"what do you want grey?" you roll your eyes at the disturbingly brown suit and the horrendously styled hair on top of it.

ironic that your ex's name is grey. and your currently boyfriend who - you're pretty sure is the love of your life - is named grayson. what are the odds? pretty fucking low.

"to talk to you," the sleaze bag smiles at you, clearly avoiding grayson's deadly gaze.

"no. not happening."

grey reaches out and places a hand on your arm. "oh come on baby, you're not really still upset over-"

"she clearly said no. so leave. if not i can break the hand your touching her with. your choice." the low and threatening voice breaks into the conversation. and if you're one hundred percent completely and unapologetically honest: that's hot.

"i was her first grey," the asshole sneers

"and i'll be her last. i'm the one who takes her on dates, and treats her like the queen she is. i'm the one who remembers her favorite foods and makes sure to always have an extra hair tie around. i'm the one smudging her lipstick while she tells me she loves me. i'm her grayson and you are not."

silence ensues between the two and you stand there dumbfounded at gray's words. how could you not love this man?? the other one on the other hand...? yeah you could go a long long time without seeing that ugly asshat.

"whatever you prick," grey sneers and storms off - probably to go sulk to his mother.

when he's fully out of sight you twist back to grayson who has a tight expression on his face. he unexpectedly pulls you along and out of the bright function room and into a more secluded private spot.

"i'm sorry about that," he stresses slightly. "i didn't mean to just spit all of that out. please don't be-"

"grayson," you cut him off. "that was probably the sweetest and hottest thing i've ever seen you do. i am definitely not mad." he visible relaxes at that.

"but, i think you're going to have keep good on your promise of smudged lipstick..."

𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @ecliphttlunar, @tornqdowarnings,

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

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 4⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2642 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5)

STORY: well, y'know. you can't ignore a 911 text from a hawthorne

WARNINGS: none really, reader does struggle to swim tho and freaks out a little

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @ravishinglyliving @maybxlle - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: EEK I LOVED WRITING THIS. i didn't describe the reader's swimsuit because i don't know what everyone is comfortable with so i let you kinda imagine it however u want! i'm not sure how many more parts i can get out of this idea, there'll definitely be at least one more lmk what u think tho

He said please. 

Grayson didn’t lack manners. It’s not that he didn’t know how to say please and thank you. But he also wasn’t the kind of person to throw around a plea lightly. Grayson Hawthorne was, well, a Hawthorne. The name itself was a demand, not requiring a please. But he’d felt the need to say please to you. 

Maybe you were overthinking it. 

Or maybe you were still in denial, like Avery said you were. 

The texts came in at eight at night, too, which only raised more questions in your mind. If he wanted to talk to you, why hadn’t he just found you? Or simply texted you to meet somewhere? You didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to use the 911; you would’ve come if he’d just told you to go to the pool. 

Hawthornes did tend to have a flare for dramatics, you supposed. 

You had no idea why Grayson wanted you to meet him at the pool. He was a swimmer, sure, but that was very much his personal time. Grayson didn’t often appreciate people watching or joining him in the pool. But, you figured there was a chance he expected you to.

So you found yourself at her door again. Despite the faint conversation you could hear from inside, you knocked. 

Avery took longer than last time to open the door. “What’s up?” She asked. 

“Hey. Uh, do you have a swimsuit I could borrow?”

She frowned slightly, confused. “I mean I do, yeah, but why-”

You didn’t even have to say anything. You just showed her your phone screen with the text messages. Her eyes widened as she read them and she immediately opened the door wider for you. “Get the hell in here.”

Avery was already digging through the grand dresser. As you entered the room behind her, you noticed Jameson sitting on the floor in front of a deck of cards, giving you a curious look. “What-”

“Not now, Jamie,” Avery quickly answered. “Girl problem.”

That shut him up. 

“Don’t mind him,” she told you, turning back around with a few items in hand. “We were just playing solitaire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Together? Isn’t that a one player game?”

“His idea, not mine. Managed to turn it into a competition too, somehow,” Avery shrugged. Jameson gasped dramatically but she continued before he could speak, bringing your attention back to why you asked for help. “So, I’ve actually never worn this one before, you could keep it if you want. Or-”

“That one’s fine,” you interrupted, taking it from her. “Can I change in your bathroom?” “Oh, uh, yeah, sure I guess,” Avery answered, clearly confused as to why you were so quick to answer. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get there as soon as I can. Thanks.”

You didn’t change completely, just putting it on and putting your clothes back on over it. You didn’t plan on getting into the water, but it was worth being prepared.

As you were stepping out of the room and thanking Avery, Jameson called, “Say hi to Gray for me.”

Your head snapped back. “What?”

“Come on,” he smirked. “He’s practically the only person who uses the pool, especially at this time. So tell him I said hi.”

Shaking your head, you just ignored him. Jameson was the type of person who could read people well, so odds are he probably already knew he was right. But you didn’t want to give even more of a reaction to him than you already had. 

Avery grabbed your arm though, before you left. “Hey, hey, good luck.”

You thanked her and left, just hoping Jameson wouldn’t try to watch from the window. 

~~

The cool night air hit you sharply as you stepped outside. It hadn’t been too chilly during the day, but you now found yourself wishing you were in more than just shorts and a thin hoodie.

Shivering, you made your way over to the pool. Your mind was racing the whole way there, but there wasn’t really anything else for you to be wondering. Grayson had asked for you to come to the pool, presumably either to swim with him or just because he was most comfortable there. Either way, it was pretty clear that he wanted to discuss what happened when he was drunk. But you still didn’t understand why he sent the 911. 

Good thing you were on your way to finding out. 

The pool deck was empty, save for a few lounge chairs. The fancy cushioned kind, the ones you would only find at a hotel. And the Hawthorne mansion, of course. 

On one of the chairs were two neatly folded towels- two. So he did expect you to get in the water with him? Where was he anyway? If he’d already brought out towels, why wasn’t he-

Splash.

You’d been too caught up in your thoughts and the sound of your heart racing in your chest to realize that Grayson was, in fact, already in the pool. Swimming laps because he was Grayson Hawthorne, so of course he was swimming laps when the sun had already set and the only light in the sky was that of the stars. 

Swimming had never really been your thing, so you didn’t know the exact stroke, but you would’ve been a liar if you said you weren't somewhat mesmerized. The way his arms went up and out, the way his fingers glided along the surface before entering the water once again. His legs kicked together, the movement fast and almost indiscernible under the blue of surrounding him. 

Grayson came up for air so quickly you couldn’t even make out his face, but your eyes caught on the way his hair flicked up with his head. It was certainly a skill, and he managed it so gracefully. You struggled to look away.

Thankfully, you were pulled out of your stare when he suddenly reached the wall nearest to you. Grayson’s hands touched the edge of the pool in perfect sync. You could see the red in his face, the tire he was giving himself from swimming. You wondered how long he’d been there before you found him.

Grayson met your eyes with a tired smile as he caught his breath. “You came.”

“You said 911,” you explained, sitting on the edge of the chair where he’d set the towels. “I figured it was pretty important.” 

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “We do only get one of those a year, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to any of my brothers.”

“Got it.”

He was avoiding the elephant in the room. 

“Would you like to join me?”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

Was he really just going to ignore the fact that he’d sent you such an urgent message? A 911 could’ve meant he was dying, for all you knew when you’d first received it. And what, it was because he wanted to go for a swim with you? There was more he wasn’t saying and you just wanted to yell at him to spit it out. 

Instead, you responded calmly. 

“Join you in the pool?”

Grayson looked you up and down and shook his head. “I suppose you can’t really, not without proper swimwear.”

You got in the pool in a suit when you were drunk, you didn’t say. 

“I have a bathing suit on under this,” you explained. “I just… why do I need to get in the water? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath. 

“I’ve decided I owe you an apology. For what happened.” You knew immediately what he was referring to. “I was reckless and foolish and unintentionally put the burden of myself onto you. It would have been easier for you to just leave me be, but you dealt with my mess. I appreciate that.” 

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the gentle lapping of the pool.

“See why I figured you should get in?” He asked. “We’d be at an even level. Better suited for such a conversation.”

“Or you could just get out,” you offered. 

“Please?” 

That word again.

Grayson Hawthorne knew what he was doing. 

“Fine,” you groaned, but really only half annoyed. You turned around as you began to take off the layers above the swimsuit, watching him in the corner of your eye as he looked away respectfully.

The cold hit you even harder now that you had removed your hoodie, and you hoped that the pool was well heated. 

“Okay, okay.” You began walking over to the edge of the pool where Grayson was. When his eyes found you, he stared for a little longer than normal before answering.

“You’re nervous,” he observed. “Can you swim?”

You shrugged, taking another step closer. “I know how to stop myself from drowning.”

Grayson moved out of your way and you sat on the edge of the pool with your feet getting wet. It was heated, thankfully. Comfortably so. No wonder he loved to come here at night. 

He was watching you silently. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was killing you. Not that anyone could ever tell what Grayson Hawthorne hid behind those piercing eyes, but yet another question amidst everything that had happened that week was too much.

Of course he’s a mystery, he’s a Hawthorne. 

Before you could overthink it even further, you got in.

The warmth of the water enveloped you, contrasting greatly with the chill of the night air. You were holding onto the wall, not planning on letting go because your swimming skills were just barely above that of a child starting swim lessons. But Grayson’s intense gaze kept your heart racing. 

He swam towards you, grabbing onto the wall a little closer but still leaving a respectful distance between you. “Do you know why I sent the 911?”

“No,” you admitted. “It scared me.”

“I apologize for that. I panicked.”

You hadn’t expected that confession from him.

“You panicked?”

He nodded slowly. “I was afraid you’d think less of me after how I acted. You haven’t spoken to me in days, so I wasn’t sure you’d come otherwise.” The vulnerability in his voice was tangible.

“It’s not that I’ve been trying to avoid you, Grayson,” you explained. “I just… I mean, you haven’t spoken to me either.”

“I thanked you, I thought we were past what happened. I didn’t think we needed to talk about it.”

“You thanked me and then flirted and walked away.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did I?”

“You know very well what you did,” you said, trying to hide the blush on your face. 

He swam a little closer. His voice dropped to the same sincere tone it had adopted back when he was drunk. When you’d told him to be careful and he’d cupped your face. When he said he’d never hurt you, never. 

“Perhaps I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that I burdened you with my drunk self.”

“You’re not a burden, Grayson,” you told him, also pushing yourself closer to him along the wall. “It was no problem, really. Just a little entertaining.”

He chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or bitter. 

The way he was looking at you was making you feel something. Something you couldn’t name but… didn’t quite hate. You started to move yourself a little closer to him until-

Splash.

Your hand slipped off the edge of the pool, accidentally sending you back. Not exceptionally far or deep into the pool, but enough to make you panic. You could keep yourself afloat, sure, but not when you were suddenly pushed away from the only solid thing keeping your head above water.

But before you could fully let the panic set in, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you upwards.

The sensation of being lifted was disorienting. You were overwhelmed by the sudden rush of water and movement, then the lack of water as your head reached the surface again. Even if you’d barely been below the water for a few seconds, you found yourself gasping for air. 

Grayson’s arm around you was the only steady thing in the chaos.

“Hey, hey” Grayson spoke, and it took a moment for your startled mind to process the words. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to focus. It took a moment for your breathing to calm down, but you helped yourself by rationalizing it; you’d been under the water for maybe five seconds, there was no need to panic so much.

The shock had just gotten you.

His voice broke through again, focusing your vision and hearing on him. “Just breathe, in and out. Nice and slow, just like that.”

You followed his instructions, taking deep breaths. Your panic began to fade, and you became painfully aware of how close he now was to you, the proximity at which he held you.

Grayson didn’t let go as you calmed down, simply keeping you tucked protectively in his arm as if the water was threatening you. He used his free hand to reach up and brush a wet strand of hair from your face behind your ear. The gesture was so gentle, so careful, that you felt your heart flutter.

“Are you alright?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thank you.”

He only nodded in return, his usually sharp gray eyes beginning to soften as he stared down at you. He didn’t move his hand away after moving the hair out of your face. It stayed there, lingering around your ear, until he decided to move down, cupping your face.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time that shirtless Grayson Hawthorne was holding your face in his large hands and looking at you in a way that was more than an annoyed glance. 

But it felt different this time. More intense, more real. 

He wasn’t drunk, not hungover; there was no doubt in your mind that he really meant everything. His eyes were still locked on yours with an emotion that you couldn’t quite place, yet somehow felt deep within your core. 

He leaned forward, so close to you that your foreheads were almost touching. His eyes fluttered shut and you realized what was happening only after you felt the words he whispered against your lips-

“I’m sorry.”

Grayson closed the small gap between you, gently pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, like he was giving you the chance to pull away or tell  him to stop. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into the kiss, the arm around you tightened.

Your hands moved on their own, both sliding their way up to rest on his chest. He responded to your touch with a low hum that made you shiver despite the heated pool. 

His arm moved up to the back of your head, pushing you impossibly closer to him. The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, like he was trying to express every emotion he’d been hiding for the past week. It was overwhelming, and for a moment nothing existed outside of you and Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

When he pulled back, you kept your eyes closed. Grayson placed a small kiss on your forehead before resting it against his own. You were so close now, much closer than before, but that didn’t matter anymore.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted softly.

“Me too, Grayson,” you grinned. “Me too.”

When he kissed you again, he tasted like those stupid cherries he loved and felt like the end of the world.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[darkacdemiasworld]

i would say goodnight but i’m not cuddling with grayson hawthorn, my head on his chest, reading a cute little book as he falls asleep with a subtle grip on my waist. so night everyone

[danikamariewrites]

Here’s my masterlist! I will try to keep it updated as I post fics.

last update: 11/06/24

ACOTAR Masterlist | Throne of Glass Masterlist | Crescent City Masterlist | Fourth Wing Masterlist | The Inheritance Games

[authorscurse]

Love Leaves Scars: Plot Twist of the Century

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

Warning: Skye is a warning yall

Pairing: Oc!reader x Grayson Hawthorne

W.C: 2.3k

I observe as the sky is bathed in a soft hue of blue, and the sun emerges from its slumber. The sky is adorned with wisps of clouds and the graceful presence of birds, infusing it with vibrant life and color. A gentle, chilly breeze brushes against my skin, causing a light shiver to ripple through me. I draw my blanket closer, taking solace in its warmth, as I savor each sip of the steaming coffee I have brewed. All the while, my gaze remains fixed upon the ever-changing canvas of the sky, as well as the graceful movements of the birds.

"You're awake quite early," I hear Asnid's morning voice raspily remark. "Good morning," I greet her warmly, setting my mug down on the table of the balcony. Asnid settles into the vacant chair opposite me, reaching out to take a sip from my mug. "From what I recall, you're not one to wake up early, Vers," Asnid remarks. "I found it difficult to sleep last night," I confess, my voice tinged with vulnerability. Sleep has evaded me ever since our arrival here, five days ago.

"Is the bed not providing enough comfort?" Asnid inquires, her concern evident. I assure her that the bed is perfectly adequate. It's simply that the memories I have tried desperately to forget persistently haunt me, even within the realm of my dreams. Ever since I turned twelve, I have been unable to dream at all, and I can't even remember the last time I ever did dream. Yet, sleeping within Hawthorne House has reawakened my ability to dream. Alas, these dreams are far from pleasant—they can rather be described as nightmares.

"Are you nervous about the will reading?" Asnid speculates. "Why would I be nervous about something like that? Im sure Tobias Hawthorne included me in that will for one of his games," I reply. But deep down, is that truly the case?

I turn away from Asnid and fix my gaze upon the captivating vista before us. Hawthorne House, perched upon its expansive estate, commands attention. The forest surrounding us sways in unison with the whims of the wind.My eyes remain on the scene, for a moment, I felt a semblance of peace wash over me. A semblance, but not quite complete.

"We should eat breakfast, Verity," Asnid suggests, rising from her seat. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from the captivating view, following Asnid downstairs to the dining area. The long table is adorned with an array of breakfast delicacies—varieties of bread, succulent fruits, and a tempting assortment of treats. It is a veritable feast, brimming with flavors that screams sugar rush. "Good morning, Miss Verity and Miss Asnid," one of the maids greets us before departing to the kitchen.

I pull out a chair for Asnid, then take my place beside her. It doesn't take long before the remaining occupants of Hawthorne House begin to trickle into the dining area, joining us for breakfast. However, one person is noticeably absent.

"Where might dearest Grayson be?" Xander inquires, his mouth full of bread. "He left yesterday for some errands and hasn't come back," Nash replies. My eyes meet Nash's, and he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. I simply lower my head, focusing on the food before me. Silence settles upon the room, punctuated only by a small exchange of words.Everything remained silent until...

"I'm home!" a voice rings out, shattering the tranquility.

As Skye Hawthorne enters the dining room, the atmosphere shifts. The three grandchildren momentarily pause their eating before resuming.

"Good morning, boys, did you miss me?" She ask while giving a three of them a half-hearted hugs before her attention turns to me. Her eyes light up, and a sly smirk forms on her lips.

"Verity Rosewood, long time no see, my dear," Skye greets me, approaching with enthusiasm. I rise from my seat and reciprocate the hug she offers. "Oh, how I missed my favorite future daughter-in-law," she remarks, planting a kiss on my cheek. I resume my seat as Skye takes the one beside me.Just great. 

Skye then turns her attention to Asnid, "Well, who is this pretty lady over here?" Asnid, taken aback by the question, blushes deeply and introduces herself politely. "I'm Asnid, nice to meet you, Miss Hawthorne," she responds with a sweet smile. Skye attempts to return the gesture, though a fleeting expression of disgust betrays her true feelings. Skye possesses a talent for feigning kindness, concealing her true emotions.

Concerning Grayson's whereabouts, Skye poses the same question she asked her sons earlier. Nash provides the same response he shared with Xander, indicating that Grayson ventured out on errands and has yet to return. Skye then shifts her attention back to me, "How are you, Verity? I've missed you, my dear,"

"I've been doing great, actually," I reply, offering a sweet smile as I continue to enjoy my breakfast. Skye's hand delicately tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, further blurring the boundaries of comfort. Such a sweet but fake act. "Where is Zara? Shouldn't she be here when the will reading starts?" Skye queries, indulging in bread and fruit as she awaits an answer.

After excusing ourselves from the table to give the Hawthorne family their privacy, Asnid and I walk away, leaving the dining room. I can sense Skye's gaze following us until we leave the room.

"Who is that lady?" Asnid asks once we are out of earshot. I reply, "That's Skye Hawthorne, the second-born daughter of Tobias and the mother of the four grandchildren." Asnid murmurs her suspicion, "She seems like bad news."

"She is, so be careful," I warn her. Asnid nods obediently, understanding the potential dangers. We decide to minimize our interactions with the Hawthornes by staying in our room until the will reading commences.

As I assist Asnid in zipping up her dress, she raises a question. "Do you think the Avery girl has arrived by now?" I consider her inquiry and respond, "If she hasn't, it means we'll be staying here even longer until the next scheduled will reading." Asnid then confides, "I kind of like it here." Our eyes meet in the mirror before us. I cannot deny that I share a similar sentimentI couldn't say that I didn't feel the same. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house that haunts you even in your dreams. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house which makes me remember memories I choose to forget. It's hard to enjoy staying in the house where you met your first love.

"I'm glad you enjoyed your stay here, hon," I offer a small smile, which she reciprocates. Words alone would not suffice to convey the depth of my disdain for this place—the unsettling feelings it evokes, the memories it forces me to confront, and the sight of the man I once loved.

Our attention is diverted to the sound of a knock on the door. "Asnid? Verity? You need to come down now," Nash's voice reaches us from the other side. Asnid responds, "We'll be out in a minute!" She places a hairclip in her hair, and I patiently wait as Nash's footsteps fade away.

"I'm done! Let's go!" Asnid exclaims, grabbing my hand as we make our way down the stairs and into the Great Room. As we enter, the room is already filled with people, although the main event has yet to commence. Oren, Tobias's head bodyguard, stands by the wall, strategically positioned to observe the room's exits. The Laughlin family occupies one side of the room, while Zara and her husband engage in conversation with the lawyers, Grayson at their side. Nan sits at the front right of the room, with Xander irritating her incessantly. Skye occupies a solitary seat, and the remaining Hawthorne boys are seated together.

"Let's sit beside them!" Asnid whispers to me with excitement, suggesting that we sit beside the two unfamiliar girls in the wingback chairs. One of the girls had long brown hair while the other had short blue hair.  Eagerly, we take the seats beside them. The girls turn their attention to us as we settle in. Asnid takes the initiative, extending her arm and introducing herself. "Hi! I'm Asnid! What's your name?" she asks cheerfully, and both girls shake her hand. The brunette girl introduces herself as Avery, while the one with blue hair is named Libby.

"Oh! You're the girl mentioned in the will too!" Asnid exclaims, pointing out Avery's connection. Avery nods in acknowledgment. "Do you know why? Were you mentioned too or are you related to these people?" Libby asks.  "Honestly we're as confused as you are. I'm not mentioned but Verity is," Asnid says before linking her arm with mine2 and reassures them, "We're not related to the Hawthornes, don't worry." I observe as Libby visibly relaxes. "Finally, someone who isn't 'richy rich'," she exhales, prompting giggles from Asnid.

Deciding to engage in further conversation, Asnid moves to sit beside Libby while Avery takes Asnid's previous seat. A"Were you dragged into this as well?" Avery asks. "Yeah, sort of," I chuckled. "Do you have a history with them?" Avery shoots another question. I hesitated to give her a truthful answer but eventually still did. I nodded my head and told her how I used to play with the four Hawthorne grandchildren when we were young.

Avery responds, "Good for you, because I don't." Tobias Hawthorne you sick old man. "Even in death, he likes to play stupid games," I sigh, expressing my frustration. Avery begins to offer a reply, but her words are cut off by one of the lawyers in the room. "Now that everyone is here, it would be wise to start," the lawyer announces, and the three of them position themselves in a triangle formation, signaling the beginning of the proceedings.

The lawyer, whom I recognize as Alisa's father, begins by stating that we are gathered to hear the last will and testament of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. He explains that per Mr. Hawthorne's instructions, his colleagues will now distribute letters that he had left for each of us. The other lawyers begin to walk around the room, handing out the assigned letters to each person.

I receive my letter, and I notice that Avery has received hers as well. From the corner of my eye, I see Asnid staring at me with a worried expression. I turn to her and offer an assuring smile. I mouth the words "I'm fine" to her, and she nods, redirecting her attention back to the lawyers. "You may read the letters given to you once the will reading has concluded," The lawyer instructed. 

The lawyer proceeds to explain that Tobias had stipulated that all individuals mentioned in his will must be physically present, and we have all fulfilled that requirement. The reading of the will officially commences.

"I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne, being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows," Mr. Ortega reads aloud, ensuring that everyone in the room can hear his words.

The room is filled with a palpable tension. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, their hearts pounding against their chests and their breaths held in anticipation. The silence is so profound that the ticking of the clock is audible.

One by one, each person present in the room is given their share of Tobias's fortune and assets. When Skye and Zara receive their share, they engage in a heated sibling dispute, creating a disturbance in the middle of this crucial event. Mr. Ortega intervenes, calming the two down and emphasizing the near impossibility of challenging the will. Now, it is time to address the grandsons.

"To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave..." As Mr. Ortega's voice resonates through the room, the tension reaches its peak. Zara mutters bitterly, "Everything," expressing her discontent with the situation.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee," Mr. Ortega continues. 

Another eruption of Hawthorne family drama ensues, triggered by these words. The wealth distribution becomes apparent: the grandsons receive their allotted amounts, the two daughters receive Tobias's belongings and five hundred thousand dollars, Nan receives her daughter's jewelry and a yearly sum of one hundred thousand dollars, Oren is bequeathed a toolbox and three hundred thousand dollars, and a mere one hundred dollars are designated for the Laughlin family. "Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega held up a hand and everyone stopped talking all at once. "Allow me to finish," The room goes silent once again but this time everyone turns to me and Avery sitting beside each other. 

"Please, everyone," Mr. Ortega raises his hand, and the room falls silent once again. All eyes turn towards me and Avery, who are seated beside each other. The anticipation hangs heavily in the air.

"The remainder of my estate, including all properties, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs," Mr. Ortega announces. The room fills with a mixture of surprise and astonishment. Libby and Avery's eyes widen at the lawyer's words. I can feel the weight of everyone's gaze upon me, waiting for the rest of the will to be read.

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

My heart races uncontrollably, pounding against my chest, clamoring to be set free. The sound of my own heartbeat drowns out all other noise. My ears feel as though they're ringing, overwhelmed by its deafening rhythm. I struggle to draw a breath, feeling as if my lungs are suffocating, desperate for air. Every fiber of my being cries out for help, for relief. I cannot bring myself to meet anyone's gaze, not even Asnid's. In the midst of my distress, I sense Avery taking hold of my hand, offering a small measure of solace. Yet, it is not enough to quell the tumultuous screams and cries echoing within my heart.

"Verity Quinn Rosewood," Mr. Ortega finally utters my name, and the world around me seems to come crashing down.

Taglist: @whysosmugwitch

[graysdarling]

〡𝓖. hawthorne ˎˊ˗ rich man.

- summery: grayson hawthorne is a natural born rich man who will spoil the hell out of you.

- warnings: none probably

- words: 606

- voicemail: hah BAM NEW WRITING STYLE BAM IN BACK PEOPLE BAM school starts :(

reblogs and comments are appreciated ⭑.ᐟ

now, grayson hawthorne was a rich man. i think we all knew that. he obviously knew what to do with half of the money (mostly stuff to do with his grandfather) but he doesn't know what to do with the other half.

he’d gotten told that he was stupid and spoiled for not knowing what to do with the money, much to his demise. he’d already spent some on his sisters, on hawthorne business, and he couldn’t spend some on himself. he was grayson hawthorne for hell's sake.

ah, there it was. a solution to all his problems! you. what was better than spending all of his money on his favorite girl? nothing—especially when he saw that smile show up on your face whenever he got your favorite perfume or that time you smiled so big he thought it hurt whenever he got your favorite book.

he’d practically force you to go on a shopping spree and whenever you’d try to pay, he’d immediately do it faster. whenever you turned to glare at him, all you saw was a small smile on those gorgeous lips of his.

it was like he had a mental rule in his head. never let you pay. that wasn’t him being sexist (unlike some people who thought it was), that was him wanting to see you smile. and if getting everything you wanted with his black card made you smile, so be it. he wouldn’t have it either way.

you want a new book series? he would be on his way to barnes and noble to get the full set. you want some new clothes? big mistake. now he was paying attention whenever your eyes stay on a set of gorgeous clothes you saw. even if it was just a small a little bit long glance, he was immediately on his way inside the store before you could even turn to him.

even if you’d try to reject, he knew you wanted that dress you’ve been looking at. so, he just kissed your forehead and walked past you to pay for that dress. sure, it got annoying sometimes, but he just knew how to make his future wife happy. how was that bad?

oh, and god forbid if you were staring at a piece of jewelry. out of the corner of your eye you saw the suit wearing blond immediately walk inside the store while getting his card out. whenever you tried to stop him from paying, he just put a hand around your waist and still paid for it.

he doesn’t even try to excuse himself. he was grayson hawthorne, for hell’s sake, he didn’t need excuses to make his girl happy.

don’t even get started whenever you try to pay first. you didn’t know if it was his stare or his intimidating aura, but the cashier always took his card instead of yours! once you walked out of the store mad—which grayson didn’t know why. he was giving you everything you wanted and more. why be sad?—he quickly pulled you into his chest and softly kissed your temple.

his way of apologizing, you could say. but you knew that he wasn’t actually sorry.

he wasn’t stupid. he knew how to treat a girl right, especially if it was his girl. no way was he going to let you pay for yourself when he was right there! besides, the small smile on your face whenever you walked out of the mall with him carrying all of the stuff he got you was priceless. he didn’t care about the money, as long as he got to see your beautiful smile over and over again.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @imaseabear @tornqdowarnings @flowers-for-em @alwaysthefangirl @luvv-danielle

[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

[kit4strophe]

you ask and i deliver 😽 @emreads294

₊˚ Sleepy pet-naming Grayson ୨୧

My alarm blares from my bedside table. I groan and throw my arm out, slapping the orange button on my phone. Sighing, I open my eyes.

I look down, smiling as I see Grayson’s arm around my midsection. His soft snores are heard from behind as he spoons me. I pick up his arm, careful not to wake him, as I shuffle awkwardly off the bed.

Standing, I stretch my arms over my head. I turn to leave Grayson’s bedroom but a muffled sound stops me. I turn back to the bed; Grayson’s eyes are open.

“What was that?” I give a small smile.

“Where‘re you going, Sweetheart?” His voice is soft, being used for the first time.

“I’ve gotta get to work, Gray.” A soft laugh leaves my lips as I take in his sleepy figure.

His arm is where I left it, his head now on the pillow I’ve claimed. His half-lidded eyes focus on me as his brows furrow.

“Whatd’youmean?” His words are strung together as his eyes droop, widening once before he blinks several times to wake himself more.

I smile. “Work. You know, where people who aren’t Hawthornes go to make money?”

“Don’ insult me this early.” His eyes droop again.

My eyes flit to the clock on the table as it changes to 7:00AM. “Aren’t you usually up at 5 every morning to swim?”

Grayson groans as a response and I let out a full laugh.

“Stay here.” His voice is stronger now, more determined.

My smile softens. “I have work, lovebug.”

“I’ll give you money, just stay, Angel.” He nuzzles his head into my pillow, subtly inhaling. My heart squeezes at the sight.

“I don’t want your money, Gray.” Lie. I’d love to have his riches, his ego doesn’t need to know that though.

His eyes open and his intense gaze stills me.

“Please, baby.”

It wasn’t often a Hawthorne begged, in fact they never do—especially using sweet pet-names. It’s a well known fact that you need to be wise about how you move around Hawthornes. If they give you an inch, you take a mile.

And that’s exactly what I did.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: waiting for love

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has been away on a business trip and you’re staying up late to wait for him to come home

warnings: fluff

a/n: thank you for reading it means a lot 🤍

tag list: there is no tag list but let me know if you want to be on it :)

Her eyes drooped down, but she fought of sleep with a highly caffeinated sword. She’d actually lost count of how many mugs of coffee she had consumed in the last few hours. But she did know that they didn’t seem to be working but she refused to let her eyes slip completely shut.

“Still up?” a voice says, jolting her up from her half-sleep.

Y/N looks up to see the eldest Hawthorne brother leaning in the doorway, cowboy hat tilted forwards slightly. She nodded slowly, too lazy to reply with her voice, inhaling another swig of hot coffee.

“You know, you don’t have to,” Nash says, walking over and sitting in the armchair opposite her.

“I know but I’m too committed now,” she shrugs, “if I fall asleep all this coffee would’ve gone to waste.”

She jerks her head towards the several mugs sat on the little table beside her, indicting her caffeine intake.

“Grayson would probably want you to go to sleep,” he urges.

“Exactly and then he wouldn’t wake me up and I want to see him,” she explains.

“Okay, okay,” Nash says, giving up slightly, “but if it gets to 4AM you have to sleep. Okay?”

“Yes dad,” she teases.

“Hey!” he exclaims in mock offence putting a sarcastic hand over his heart.

She pokes her tongue out at him sleepily. He chuckles slightly and then returns her actions.

“I’m gonna get some sleep of my own tonight, Lib is waiting for me, are you gonna be okay on your own?” He asks.

“I’ll be fine, besides I won’t be alone when Grayson gets back,” she replies.

“Okay, goodnight Y/N,” he nods.

“Night Nash,” she murmurs.

Grayson had been off in a business trip in Paris. He’d been expected to arrive back earlier but his flight had been delayed. After twelve long days without him Y/N wanted to see him as soon as he walked through the door. She’d missed him so much and admitted to no one, not even herself really, how hard it had ben without him. The nights felt colder, the days felt longer and her heart felt heavier. It wasn’t even like she’d gotten to talk to him that much over the phone, due to the time difference it proved difficult to find a good time to call. A couple of time Grayson woke in the middle of the night just to get a conversation in, but Y/N knew he needed his sleep if he were to function in all of the business meetings he was included in, so it didn’t last long.

To pass the time she began to think about a beautiful time when the two of them were on a beach in some foreign country. She couldn’t remember which one as she’d been lucky enough to go so several. She remembers laying on his chest and gazing up into his eyes, the sounds of the waves keeping them company, having conversations of sweet nothings and just enjoying each others company.

Reeling her from that memory, Y/N hears the door handle and gets a wave of shock and panic rush over her. She stands up suddenly as the door swings open. And there he is. Grayson Hawthorne. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than him. She looked at him for a few seconds, noticing the tiredness in his eyes and the aches in his limbs. He looked the same and yet so so different. Their eyes connected and it was like the first time all over again. Deja vu washes over them both.

“Grayson!” Y/N exclaims, using what was left of her energy to run towards him and wrap her arms around him.

She practically falls into his body, finally feeling at home after twelve long and hard days of being so lost. She inhales his scent, brining her a sense of comfort and familiarity.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs into her hair, arms tightly wrapped around her torso, bringing her further into his chest, “you didn’t have to stay awake for me.”

“I wanted to,” she whispers, “and this is making it so worth it.”

Y/N melts deeper into his arms and clings to him as if she intends never to let go. She wishes time could stands still for a few more moments and this moment could be frozen. She is suddenly hit with a crashing wave of intense emotion that makes her eyes tear up. He’s here, he’s home, he’s with her.

Grayson suddenly pulls away and look at her tear stained face, “Why are you crying my love?”

“You’re home,” she chokes out, “and I’m really happy.”

Something tugs at the left side of Grayson’s chest, “sweetheart…”

“I’m fine,” she sniffs, “really.”

He takes his thumb and gently brushes away the tears, staring into her eyes.

“I’d almost forgotten how gorgeous you were,” he says, kissing her forehead.

“Even when I’ve got zero sleep and I’m crying,” Y/N challenges.

“Of course,” he replies as if the answer is obvious.

He tucks the loose strands of hair out of her eyes and cups her face in his gentle palms. He plants a slow, sweet, delicate kiss on her lips.

“You taste like coffee,” he smiles as she pulls away.

“Sorry,” she laughs sheepishly, a tinge of red in her cheeks

“I like coffee,” he reassures her.

Suddenly a tinge of red becomes a lot more prominent before she says “I think you’d be positively concerned for my well-being if you knew how much I’ve drunken tonight,”

“I’m always positively concerned for you wellbeing, love,” he murmurs.

“Oh Gray,” she says, her voice contorted with sadness and a sort of depression mixed with a dash of love and desire.

“What?” he asks gently taking her hands into his.

“I’ve missed you…” she tells him, “I’ve missed this.”

“I’ve missed you so much more, every day without you was like hell,” Grayson replies.

She chuckles softly

“I’m serious,” he presses, “it’s like nothing else matters when you’re not around. Like night and day just merge into one mess of time and sounds don’t sound right. Things that are supposed to be beautiful are just underwhelming and feeling happy just feels like an illusion of being happy because you’re not there to share it with me.”

“Grayson…” she trails off, in shock that he too felt lost without her by his side.

“Don’t ever forget that,” he tells her seriously, “that when you’re not around I go crazy.”

“I like crazy,” Y/N says, mirroring his words a few moments prior.

He smiles and then quickly takes a box out of his jacket pocket and hands it to her.

“I got this for you,” he whispers.

Y/N analyses the box skeptically. Her boyfriend was the type of person to remember the thing you said you liked the look of once and then go out and find it. Her mind races over endless possibilities of what it might be but she decides to put herself out of the misery and open the box. She gasps and stares at him, wide eyed.

How had he remembered?

Inside the box, sat on top of a layer of velvet was a breathtaking crystal butterfly.

“Do you remember when we were in Sicily together and you were talking about that book you were reading, ‘même les papillons tuent’,” he asks.

“I loved that book,” she recalls.

“I know and I saw this crystal butterfly in Paris and it reminded me of how you’d mentioned it so got one for you,” he explains

“Gray this is so beautiful,” she exclaims awestruck, gently running her fingertips across the crystal too scared to maybe breathe too harshly towards it.

“Do you like it? Because I know it isn’t the exact-“

“I love it, I love it so much,” she cuts him off, pulling him into a tight hug, so he could feel her gratitude, “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course I did, my love,” he replies, kissing the top of her nose.

“But it must’ve been so expensive,” Y/N tells him, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt in her stomach.

“I don’t care how much it was, you deserve to be spoilt,” Grayson shrugs.

Heat rises in her cheek once again and she looks up at him shyly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She gazes at the butterfly for a few moments longer, not wanting to tear her eyes from something so perfect and unique. Grayson watches her, in love with the way she is in love with the gift he’s brought back for her, in love with that twinkle in her bright eyes, in love with the smile dancing on her perfectly kissable lips. When their eyes meet again Y/N yawns a little and tries to mask the fact that she’s tired, but fails. Grayson smiles and sits down, pulling her into his lap. She curls up comfortably in his arms and slowly traces invisible drawing of various shapes on his torso. They began to discuss all of the things they’d missed about each other, venting about random encounters they’d had without the other and laughing over stupid things his brothers had done. She didn’t know how long they talked for or what they really talked about, she didn’t even remember falling asleep in his arms. But exhaustion overtook her system at some point and she drifted off.

***

Grayson awoke to the sun streaming through the curtains. He looks down to see her sleeping on his chest. She was perfection, his little ray of sunshine. He takes this moment to analyse her face. The way her eyelashes curled a little, naturally at the ends or the freckles dotted across her face he’s counted a thousand times or the just simply the way she looked so gorgeous. When he had been gone he’d envisage her features, they were fully memorised and etched into his brain but her being here in real life was so different. So much more beautiful than his mind credited her for.

He slowly takes a few strands of her hair into his hands and begins to play with it. Twisting and turning it, feeling the softness in contract with his corse fingers. He attempts a small plait, which half worked until it all fell out.

A smile danced on his lips as he used his finger tips to draw circles on her back. She makes a small sound, telling him she’d awoken from her much needed rest. She looks up at him, doe-eyed and still sleepy.

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” he smiles, tucking a chunk of her beautifully messed up hair behind her ear.

“Good morning Gray,” she replies with tired eyes and dopey smile.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, tapping the tip of her nose tentatively with a finger.

Y/N giggles softly, blushing slightly. Grayson’s smile widens admiring how sweet she looks with the pink colour now added to her cheeks. He leans in to kiss her but she turns away, so he only gets her cheeks.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth,” she complains, pushing his face away.

“Neither have I,” he shrugs.

“Still it’s gross,” she shakes her head.

“Right now I don’t care,” he whispers.”

“Woah woah woah,” she says, sitting up properly in shock, “Grayson Hawthorne not caring about hygiene… are you okay sweetheart?”

“I want to kiss you,” he replies bluntly, simply, honestly.

“Then kiss me,” she whispers, also now not caring about her unbrushed teeth.

He kisses her slowly

“God I missed this,” she whispers.

“Me too,” he murmurs.

“Tell me everything about your trip…” she says, laying her head on his bare chest and gazing up and him, her eyes wide with anticipation, love and happiness.

a/n: can’t get enough of grayson (yeah, me neither)… find more on my TIG masterlist