#it... usually does have to do with Avery too

[inmyheaddd]

✦ nobody gets me, you do - averyjameson

a/n: wooo games untold release day!!! the first part of this is so silly help i love max summary: avery has the worst interview in the world, with constant interruptions and snide comments. jameson is watching it from home, (along with his brothers, max, and lyra) and finds himself going to see avery, despite her team telling him no. wc: 2.4k

max was watching her best friends interview live on her phone, sitting in her boyfriends bed.

she could read her like an open book, and could tell something was definitely wrong. 

“xander,” she called out the boy next to her who was solving a 9x9 rubix cube leisurely, laying on his back with his hands up in the air. “are you seeing this? look what they’re doing to my girl avery.”

xander sat up, and watched for a few seconds. to xander, she looked how she did the first time he ever saw her: scared, uncomfortable, but trying to put on a brave face.

after just two seconds, he called out at the top of his lungs: “jamesoooonnnn.”

no response. 

max pulled xander out of the room — much to his dismay, and finally spotted jameson in one of the libraries.

she barely got a word in before jamesons eyes flickered to her phone that was still playing the interview. his brows furrowed, “you’re watching the interview too?”

“…of course i am,” she deadpanned, “i’m literally avery’s girlfriend.

xander raised a brow from beside max, and jameson and him shared a confused look. “oh… right.” jameson said as he nodded slowly. 

“yeah…!” xander added. “how could i forget?...” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head as his eyes flickered between jameson and max.

“you guys are weird…” max trailed off, confused at their strange reactions, when she said something so completely normal in her opinion. 

 “but look!” she exclaimed, “she literally looks so… uncomfortable. in their right mind allowed this interviewer to have a job?” she said, as the two brothers looked at the tiny screen on her phone showing avery’s interview live. 

they quickly ditched watching it on the phone, because jameson suggested they watch it on the large tv in one of their living rooms.  

max rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, “of course you’d suggest that.” but nodded anyway as the three made their way to the nearest living room. 

avery shifted in her seat slightly, her smile just a little off and strained as the interviewer asked another prying question.

“so, how does it feel to have your entire life handed to you on a silver platter- or shall i say, gold?” the audience laughed at the last line. his tone was light, but the implications were hard to miss.

avery smiled, like landon had rehearsed with her, trying to maintain her composure. 

“who the hell is this guy?” jameson scoffed, “seriously?” he stood up from the couch they were sitting on and ran a hand through his hair. 

“i wouldn’t exactly describe it that way,” she responded far too fast, so she went to correct herself— otherwise she wouldn’t her the end of it from her team. “but i’m endlessly grateful for all the opportunities i have, and for all the experiences.” she said with a smile that looked a little too sweet and practiced, that it made jameson sick.

the interviewer leaned forward, a cruel smirk on his face that made avery want to grimace. “oh?” he challenged, “so you’re saying the billion-dollar inheritance didn’t change your life overnight?”

xanders usual playful grin was gone as he muttered, “avery looks like she’s about to walk out.”

“she should.” jameson was now pacing in front of the TV, unable to stand still any longer. “if i’d been there—”

“but you’re not,” grayson said calmly, standing beside another couch that lyra was sitting on. “she’ll handle it.”

lyra had heard everyone in the room a few minutes earlier, and suggested her and grayson go see what was going on. 

jameson’s eyes focused laser sharp on the tv once again as he heard the interviewer mention his name, before turning back to look at grayson.

“she shouldn’t have to handle it, grayson.” his voice cracked with frustration.

her heart raced, but she managed a small laugh. “i think anyone’s life would change with something like that. my life has changed a great ordeal, but it’s more complicated than—”

“and what about your relationship with jameson hawthorne?” he interrupted, not caring for a single word she had to say. “was that part of the package deal?”

the live audience laughed, and avery just smiled politely, frustration flashing behind her eyes that only the people closest to her could spot.

grayson was going to say something to calm his brother down, but didn’t get the chance to. 

“oh, this guy is a fucking comedian, isn’t he?” jameson ran another frustrated hand through his hair, chuckling lowly as he exhaled. “i’m getting him fired— bankrupt for gods sake.” 

he knew how snobby-privileged-rich-kid he sounded even to his own ears, but he didn’t care. 

“yeah,” lyra chimed in, who rarely ever agreed with jameson.  “i’m with you on that one.”

jameson shook his head, letting out a blow of air that it almost sounded like a whistle, “goddamnit, i don’t care, i’m going. her team and the paparazzi can go to hell for all i care.” 

he turned off the tv, he couldn’t bear to see avery uncomfortable for another second.

nash stood leaning against the wall, sending a slight nod to jameson. “you need a ride?” he asked, alluding to the motorcycle jameson loves to use when he needs to blow off steam. 

with no complaints from nash, jameson knew that he was doing the right thing. 

he muttered something under his breath along the lines of: “too dangerous,” and shook his head. and with that, he made his way to the stairs. 

everyone shared confused glances — jameson hawthorne, saying something was too dangerous? something has seriously changed. 

“is it just me… or is jameson being weirdly responsible right now.” xander muttered as he looked at the turned off tv infront of him. 

grayson and lyra shared a look that communicated the message; ‘…he’s still not responsible.’ but didn’t say anything.

max nodded at xander in agreement. “it’s the avery effect.” she stated matter-of-factly. “i don’t know about you, but whenever i’m around her i feel like… woah, i just want to be a better person, you know?” 

xander thought about it for a moment with his hand on his chin, and then nodded ,like max had said something profound. 

he looked up at her, and then they both nodded in sync, sharing a high five. 

nash, who was still standing leaned against the wall, stifled a laugh, shaking his head in amusement before walking out of the living room. 

he was definitely going to be mentioning the “avery effect” to libby later.

— 

avery sighed as she finally got in the dressing room, leaning her head back on the door and shutting her eyes. 

she got to go home in half an hour now, finally. 

atleast she was done with that interview. 

she walked away from the door, slumping in her chair as she brought her hands to her face, looking into the large hollywood style mirror infront of her. 

she was hyper-aware of everything around her—the feeling of her clothes scratching against her skin, the way her makeup suddenly felt heavy on her face, the ache in her cheeks from smiling, and the slight tremor in her hands. 

avery re-enacted the smiles she gave throughout the interview, wondering if they looked too fake, if she needs to start tweaking them, and overthinking just about every small detail.

5 minutes had passed, and she was still staring into the mirror. 

surely this wasn’t healthy, but she stayed practicing the answers she gave, sighing in defeat when she remembered how people would take it as snappy and defensive.

god, she wouldn’t have wished that interview from hell on her worst enemy. 

her reflection started to look weird to herself, but she kept practicing the right way to smile, to not look fake.

suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and her attention was diverted from the mirror for the first time in 10 minutes. 

“yeah, come in!” she called out quietly, eyes fixated on the door, nervous to see who it was.

hair and makeup? someone from her team already there to scold her? or god forbid, the interviewer— her thoughts were all silenced when she saw pair of familiar green eyes.

“jameson,” she breathed out, “what are you doing here?” 

his hair was a tad messier than usual, and his eyes seemed panicked as he looked around the room, until they finally met hers. 

he shut the door behind him and locked it all in one swift movement and walked over to her, standing behind her chair she was sitting on. 

his hands found her shoulders, but she stood up and turned around, meeting him face to face.

“heiress,” he put his calmest voice on as his hands found their way to the sides of her face. “i was watching— we were watching the interview at home.” his eyes flickered between hers, “are you alright?”

she smiled a little, letting out an exhale. “yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” she shook her head in an attempt to portray she was confused. 

it was slightly difficult for her to act like she was perfectly fine, when she had spent the last 20 minutes doing nothing but overthink. 

he brought her out of her thoughts once again. “avery.”

“what?”

“i saw the look on your face— you may be a good bluffer, but not with your emotions. not with me, atleast.” 

unfortunately for avery, jameson could see what she was feeling when she tried her hardest to hide it, even from her own self. 

she sighed, trying to shrug it off. “jameson, it’s just one interview. they ask questions like that all the time—it’s part of the job.”

“i don’t care if it’s part of the job. you never asked for this.” his voice was hard-edged, his hands moving down her shoulders, then down to her hands. “you looked uncomfortable, avery. you shouldn’t have to be fine with that.”

“i was managing it,” she countered, tilting her head up to look at him, trying to ease the tension. “that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

her hands fiddled with his fingers with a mind of their own. it was a tell tale sign she was holding her feelings back. jameson knew it better than anyone.

“and that’s the problem.” he didn’t speak to her condescendingly, or in any way that was trying to belittle her. he was just worried. 

he simply cared, and it made avery’s heart soar. 

“they’re counting on you to just handle it every single time, like it doesn’t get to you.” his voice was low, “you shouldn’t act okay with it just because it’s easier. it’s not right.”

she wanted to prove that she was okay, that she wasn’t bothered, and that he didn’t have to worry about her, but she couldn’t, because then she’d be lying.

she let out a small sigh of defeat, “you’re right, jameson.” she shook her head, “i know… i just— i don’t want you to worry about me, or anyone to worry about me.”

“tough luck.” he replied, voice low but unwavering as his eyes searched hers. 

she opened her mouth to argue, but his hand gently brushed a stray piece of hair from her face, and the words seemed to fade.  

“its the worst thing in the world, seeing the hurt on your face. i hate it.” avery looked down, but he tilted her chin back up. “and,” he murmured, “i hate the people inferior who project their own problems onto you, because they feel like they can, even more.” 

avery couldn’t argue with the rest of what he said, but she needed to say something. 

“no one’s inferior to me.” she mumbled 

“please,” jameson said with a deep chuckle, “i could name quite a few.” he said. “for starters, that interviewer—“

avery cut jameson off with a light laugh, a sound that made jameson feel like the sun was shining down just for them two. 

his eyes flickered all around her face, his own smile growing as he committed the picture to memory. “he was the worst. am i wrong? tell me i’m wrong.” he teased, selfishly wanting more laughter out of avery because he loved it so much.

she shook her head vigorously, “no,” she laughed, “god, no. he was the worst. i hate that idiot.” 

jameson let out another one of his bigger chuckles, “keep going,” he joked, “there’s my heiress.” 

avery rolled her eyes jokingly, feeling the last of her worry fade away. “i wanted to punch him square in the face,” she said, and jameson rose his brows in amusement and nodded enthusiastically.

she continued, “but that doesn’t matter anymore, because you’re here now, and that’s more important.” 

he let out a breath, his shoulders loosing the last of their tension. “is that so?” he murmured, his hand slipping around her waist, pulling her a bit closer.

“yeah, it is.” and before he could protest or mention anything about her emotions any longer, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. 

he melted into her, arms wrapping around her fully, and tighter. she felt like she could stay in his arms for all eternity as she put her arms around his neck. 

the kiss was brief, reassuring, but enough to melt away the last traces of his worry.

when she pulled back, jameson was looking at her with softness in his eyes— one rarely seen by others, but always seen by her. 

his thumb brushed over her cheek, and his eyes travelled her face all over. he looked deep in thought, and avery could sense a question was stirring. 

“heiress?”

she hummed, “yes, jamie?”

“you know, i never mean to be,” he hesitated slightly, “overbearing, or controlling, i just…” he paused, pressing his lips together in a line as he racked his brain for the right words. 

“yeah, i know, jamie.” she nodded slightly with her hand brushing the sides of his face, understanding what he couldn’t verbalize.

his hand held her hand that was on his face, and moved it back down. 

both their hands were locked together now, and jameson rested his forehead on hers gently.

avery was so sure he would lean in for another kiss, perhaps one less tentative, now that she could see the tension had dissolved from his shoulders. 

she let herself relax, realizing that she stopped fidgeting with jameson’s hands a while ago. 

he brought her so much peace without even trying. she wondered if she ever did the same for him— and then jameson broke the silence. 

“i’m still getting him fired, by the way.”

avery laughed quietly, almost scoffing in amusement. she bit back her smile as she shook her head, taking a slight step back, hands still intertwined. “of course you are.”

“for you, heiress?” his cheshire grin slowly returned, reeling her back in close. he shrugged, “i’d do much worse.”

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

@anintellectualintellectual  @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

@midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

@clarissaweasley-10  @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams

@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus

[guppygiggles]

😵‍💫 Ehe...

[luveline]

Maybe KBD Steve being smitten even when he takes the family out to dinner and it’s hectic in the best way possible!

KBD —Steve gets overwhelmed with love at dinner. mom!reader

“I wanna sit with mom.” 

Steve ignores Dove’s whine until she says it again. “I wanna sit with mom!” 

He finds it all too easy to shuffle her back toward his chest, eyes over her shoulder. He’s a little more interested in his fries right now, but he isn’t heartless. “Babe, you’re not sitting with mom. Do you want me to cut up your chicken?” 

“Please?” she asks. 

You’re sitting across the table with Beth. It’s easier when you’re eating out for you to sit with Beth, because, while he tries just as hard, you’re better at getting her to eat her fill. And! Despite what Dove wants, she will not be sitting with you because she wishes she was sitting on you, and your belly is not to be sat on right now. Baby Wren is four months old, and sometimes, somehow, you’re still tender. The human body mystifies. 

“No.” He smiles at her. “But you can sit on my lap forever.” 

She frowns. Looks like she might show off, but ultimately enjoys being smiled at too much. “Will you cut it?” 

Steve grabs her knife and fork and starts to shear the meat off of her half-chicken. Beside him, Avery digs into a serving of mac and cheese with vigour, her spoon scratching the bottom of the bowl. The restaurant is quiet considering the time and day; it’s prime time 6PM on a Saturday, and you’d both expected this family establishment to be full to bursting, but besides two tables by the door and a couple of older women at the bar, it’s quiet. It’s quite nice. 

The girls are less so. 

“Oh, gosh, cheese,” Avery says. 

“It’s too wet,” Beth says. 

“Do the ‘sparagus too, daddy,” Dove says. 

Wren, thankfully, snores in her stroller, the slightest tinge against her collar of waylaid milk. 

“Yum! Beth, do you want some?” 

“I don’t want any.” 

“Bethie, you know, this is just how daddy usually makes them,” you say, stealing one of her French fries, licking salt grains from your fingers. “Except daddy wouldn’t let you have all that salt.” 

“It’s nice,” Beth defends. 

“Exactly. Better eat it before your daddy notices,” you say, all soft and smiley as you lean down and poke her in the side. 

She shies away, but not without a smile of her own. “Mom!” she whispers. 

“What?” Steve asks. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you say. You reach around Beth as Steve had done to Dove and begin to cut the last of her burger into sections. Steve would argue a burger from here is better than anything he could make, but he likes the compliment. 

His own burger grows cold in front of him. Your meal does the same. 

He licks his thumb. “Baby,” he says, tapping your ankle with his shoe, “you need to eat.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“Beth’s a big girl, huh?” he says, giving Beth an encouraging wink. “She doesn’t need you hovering, she wants you to eat your food.” 

“Thanks, mommy,” Beth says. 

“I don’t care what daddy says,” you say, tapping your nose, “I can help you if you need it. Big girl or not.” 

He rolls his eyes playfully and goes back to his own food. Dove eats strands of chicken with her fingers, seemingly pleased, and he pretends she isn’t taking fries off his plate as he relishes in huge bites of big cheeseburger. It’s amazing. Melted cheese, a super fresh slice of tomato, lettuce crisp and not soggy. Steve loves when somebody else makes dinner. 

You finish your food fast, and then you're straight back to Beth. Steve realises quickly that it’s not even that she’s struggling today, you’re just being affectionate. He should’ve realised that before. 

(Maybe too doting considering Beth has been able to feed herself for more than four years, but Steve can’t blame you.)

“I’m glad they didn’t give you a tomato,” you’re saying, fingertips drawing circles into her arms, clearly distracting her from the task at hand. “Remember last time? They gave you tomatoes and mustard even though we told them you don’t like them.” 

“I do like tomatoes,” she says. 

“No, I know, just not on burgers.” You wrap your arm around her and turn your gaze on Avery. “What’s your mac and cheese like, Ave?” 

“So good! You want some?” 

“No, thanks. It looks cheesy.” 

Avery stabs her spoon into her food and pulls it up slowly to showcase the cheese pull. She’s gone a little pink in the face, which isn’t like her, but it’s hot in the restaurant and her food is still steaming. Like you’ve had the same thought, you lift a laminated menu and begin batting fresh air at her. “Babe, you’re red! Are you okay?” 

Jesus, he loves you. Steve really loves you. You’re just adorable, and a great mom, and he loves you. He’s gonna do it. It’s gonna piss you off, but he has to. 

“Okay, alright,” he says, shuffling out of his seat, lifting Dove to place her next to Avery. “This has been a long time coming. I think nobody expected me to wait this long, but.” He neatens his eyebrows with two fingertips and slicks back his hair. “Honey, I love you.” 

“Steve…” you warn. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you, ‘cos you’re beautiful and sweet and weirdly good with kids?” He raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t know. You’re amazing.” 

He slips his hand behind his back, shrugs off his wedding ring, and gets down on one knee. 

Avery claps and laughs immediately. Dove tips her head to the side trying to make him out. 

“Baby, I can’t imagine my life without you, and I can’t go one more day without being your husband. Would you please, please, do me the honour of becoming my wife?” 

You laugh loud and sudden, then clear your throat. “What do you think, girls?” you ask, leaning back for conference. 

“Say yes!” Avery says. 

“But he really annoyed me earlier tickling my leg,” you say. 

“True.” Avery looks to Beth. “He can learn to be better, right?” 

“I thought you were married already?” Beth asks. 

Avery giggles. You squash a smile against Beth’s hairline as you give her a little kiss. “We are,” you whisper, “he’s just pretending.” 

“This is not pretend!” Steve’s knee hurts, but he perseveres for love. “Please, honey. I love you more than anyone.”

Dove gasps in hurt. 

“Except for my Dove, my Beth, my Avery, and my Wren,” he adds. “Jesus, we have a lot of kids. That was a mouthache.” 

You meet his eyes and smile like you don’t want to smile. You hold out your hand, unperturbed when he gasps in over exaggerated delight and slips the ring on your already ringed finger. 

“Congratulations!” Avery shouts. 

She’s hilarious. “She gets that from me,” he says. 

You usher him off of the floor for a kiss, not dissimilar from the one you gave when he’d actually proposed —your hands on his cheeks, holding him to you as though he might run away before you’re done. Your smile  a palpable thing as he leans in. 

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Would you be making a Part 4 of the dancer and the angel🥺🥺

so many people have asked about this so I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to piece it together BUT it’s here so I hope you love it 🤍🤍

title: the dancer and the angel part 4

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: crying sucks and you needs somewhere to just let your hair down but when gigi goes missing, all hell breaks loose and things don’t stay exactly to plan

parts: part 1 part 2 part 3

warnings: SPOILERS FOR TGG, swearing

a/n: I’m dedicating this to @midiosaamor <33 ilysm belle thank you for your endless love for this fic, I’m so grateful 🤍🤍

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

YOUR POV

I’m tired of crying. Tears are overrated anyway.

I’m sat with Avery, my cheek resting against her shoulder, her head resting on top of mine. It’s peaceful. I can hear her soft steady breathing in my ear and it’s oddly comforting. Maybe it’s because I’m used to sleeping on Grayson’s chest and hearing him breathe so rhythmically.

I need to get him out of my head. His stupidly perfect face is the only image running through my mind. That angular jawline, those velvety lips and those silver eyes that made me melt every damn time. Every inch of him is too engraved in my soul to get rid of him so quickly.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Avery says suddenly, like she’s been reading my mind this whole time.

“We’re on a secluded island,” I scoff.

“And I happen to be a billionaire who owns many modes of transport,” she winks at me, helping me to my feet.

“You wouldn’t,” I say.

“I already have,” she winks, “there’s a helicopter that should be showing up in about…” she trails off checking her watch, “five minutes.”

“You’re joking!” I gape.

“Do I look like the kind of girl to joke about ordering a helicopter?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.

No. No she does not.

***

We arrive at our destination thirty short minutes later via helicopter of course. And as if by magical transformation we’d gotten changed into some variant of sparkly party dresses inside, a sentence I never thought I’d ever say aloud. We walk down a cobbled alleyway towards a tall establishment.

“A club?” I say tilting my head to the side.

“A club,” she nods.

“I’ve never been to a club before,” I admit, feeling a little nervous.

“Neither,” she shrugs, “but there’s a first time for everything right.”

“Right…” I trail off.

She takes my hand eagerly and together we walk in. Lights flash, music pulsates and my ear drums nearly burst. It’s so lively, so upbeat, so full. People are grabbing drinks, making out, dancing and all the in between.

Avery glances at me, “drink or dance?”

“Drink,” I don’t hesitate, having already spotted the bar, “please.”

“You got it,” she grins, linking her arm into mine as we go over, weaving between throngs of half drunk sweaty bodies.

The bartender offers us a welcoming smile, “what can I get you two ladies tonight?”

“Vodka martini dry with a twist,” I reply, the order bitter on my tongue when I remember how Gray and I would usually order these together.

I feel so pathetic. Linking everything to him, but I couldn’t help it. He’s just there, but not properly. It’s like some sort of ghost of his has decided to haunt me for fun.

“And a mojito please,” Avery says, forcing me out of my thoughts.

He nods sharply and turns to make our drinks. I fiddle with my necklace trying to figure out how I feel in this very moment. A weird mix of emotions are settled heavily on my chest. Notes of sadness and bitterness, building up anger and fury as well as a pathetic self pity and loneliness. I don’t like that none of the feelings are definitive, it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to be, my brain is too preoccupied trying to work out what emotion to act on.

The bartender hands me my drink. I take a long sip closing my eyes as the flavours hit my tongue. The sharp burst of lemon mixed with the kick of hard vodka feels like someone is slapping me across the face. I’ve never felt more awake.

“How’s the martini,” Avery asks.

“Much needed,” I smile, “your mojito?”

“Divine,” she replies taking another sip.

“Never pictured you as a mojito girl Ave,” I mention leaning against the bar and surveying the room.

“Jamie got me into them when we went to Greece,” she replies naturally.

A sinking sensation hits my stomach, I know it shouldn’t. She’s been with Jameson forever it shouldn’t hurt. They were beautiful people with beautiful souls that belonged to each other. So why is it suddenly so hard to digest? I knew about their trip to Greece, heck I’d helped them plan it. But Avery mentioning Jameson sends this rippling pain through my upper chest. She loves him and he loves her. It’s the same both ways, they’re devoted, they’re each other’s everythings. And it reminds me of what I don’t have. I think I hide it well but she sees it on my face.

“Oh god I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring up-“

“Hey it’s fine,” I shrug.

“That was so stupid of me,” she winces putting her drink down.

“Avery you don’t have tread on eggshells around me, it’s okay,“ I try and laugh it off, “no big deal.”

“Okay,” she replies, but I can see she still feels bad.

Neither of us say anything for a few beats until the music changes and I recognise the song.

“Oooo you love this song, come on,” she laughs, tugging my hands forwards.

I sigh, “I don’t know Avery, I’m not much of a dancer.”

Not like Lyra.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, swigging her mojito, “let’s let our hair down, have a bit of fun.”

“Fine,” I crack a smile.

She squeals excitedly, practically dragging me forwards as we fall on the dance floor. We move to the beat, hips swinging from side to side, arms in the air. I wish this could take it all away. I appreciate what she’s doing. But despite her best efforts I don’t think it’s working. This distraction, this attempt of respite isn’t hitting like it should. I feel buried under too many layers of him, each time I did myself out of the first in into another. And digging is exhausting.

“Why don’t you just kiss a random guy?” Avery says bringing me back to the present.

It takes me a few minutes to process what she’d just said and when I do I can’t form a response.

“How much of that mojito did you have?” I laugh.

“No seriously,” she says, a deadly true look in her eyes, “it might help you get… him out of your mind.”

“You can say Grayson,”I roll my eyes, playing it off coolly. I didn’t want her to know that this was affecting me this much, because it shouldn’t be.

“No,” she shakes her head, “the name holds too much power, he’ll get all in your head again.”

“He already is all in my head,” I tell her with a sigh.

“That’s why I’m saying,” she continues, “so just go and kiss someone for the hell of it.”

“How do I even go about doing that?” I say. I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth.

“I don’t know, never done it,” she shrugs with a wicked grin.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I reply.

“Who cares?” she laughs, “yolo.”

“Yolo? Since when do you say yolo?” I scoff, wondering if she is drunk or just spending too much time with Xander.

“Since now,” she sticks her tongue out.

“I could be kissing a serial killer,” I point out, “or an axe murderer.”

“I don’t think they’d murder you in front of everyone, it’d be a bit off brand for them,” Avery replies, “besides everyone would know who they were then. Do you really think they’d risk jail time to specifically murder you in a club? “

I think about it. Contemplate the idea of kissing someone else. Maybe she had a point, someone else’s lips on mine, hands in my hair… they won’t be his. I won’t have to associate those actions with him anymore. Would it hurt? It’s one stupid night and one stupid kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You know what, you’re right, why the hell not,” I say suddenly.

Surprise flickers across her face for mere moments before she breaks out into a large smile.

“You get them girl!” she shouts.

I scan the room, or all the faces I could see at least. I spot someone. He’s fairly attractive. Dirty blonde, tanned, muscular. He didn’t look too old either. I couldn’t tell the colour of his eyes but from here they looked light. I hope he isn’t taken as I approach him.

“Hey,” I shout over the music.

“Hi,” he shoots me a smile.

It’s in that moment I realise how unprepared I am for this. Why did I think this was a good idea? How do you just kiss someone?

So I blurt out the only thing in my mind, “do you want to kiss me?”

“What?” he replies.

I feel like an idiot but I say it again, “do you want to kiss me?”

“I can’t hear you love, speak up,” he yells.

I don’t know what comes over me but I just grab his face and kiss him. It’s probably the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done. But he doesn’t pull away, in fact he kisses back. His lips are rougher than what I’m used to and he’s a more aggressive kisser. When his hands hold the small of my back it’s more like he’s grappling onto my body than holding me gently. This didn’t feel as natural, as tentative, as loving as when Grayson kisses me.

“Well that was quite something huh?” the man smiles as I pull away.

Maybe for you I want to say, but I bite my tongue.

“Fancy doing it again?” he asks.

“Maybe another time,” I force a smile, walking away.

He doesn’t follow much to my relief. I’d chosen someone who wasn’t a serial killer at least. I make my way back to Avery who pretends she didn’t see the whole altercation to save my dignity. Though she’s very bad at hiding it.

“I know you saw,” I sing song, giggling a little.

“You went for it girl,” she says eyebrows raised.

“I did,” I nod, chewing my bottom lip tentatively.

“And?” she prompts me. I don’t know what she wants to hear. So I tell her the truth.

“It’s not the same,” I shrug.

“It won’t be but sometimes that helps you get over it,” she replies.

“It’s not working,” I sigh, “also he tasted like beer and that was gross.”

She scrunches up her face, “oh ew,”

“Yeah 100% ew,” I agree wrinkling my nose as I still taste the residue of it on my lips.

She senses how I feel even though I don’t quite know what it is I’m feeling, “you want to get some air?” she asks.

I nod, feeling that my cheeks were flushed and my everything was sweating. Hand in hand we swim upstream through dozens of people before we reach the door. The cold night’s air hits us as we slump down onto the pavement. I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes tasting the fresh air in my lungs.

“Well that was a bust,” Avery sighs.

“Not completely,” I tell her, “the dancing was fun.”

“But you’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” she replies. It’s a question that she already knows the answer to.

“How can I not?” I say, leaning my head against the back wall and looking up at the sky.

“I don’t know,” she replies sadly.

Silence envelopes us, swallowing us whole like a whale shark to plankton. A thought recurs in my brain like an annoying decimal that wasn’t supposed to be the answer. I keep thinking, if someone had told my yesterday self that I would be here today I never would’ve believed it. Hours ago he was my person, the one. And now? Now what? I was in a club kissing some random trying to get over him. Trying and pathetically failing. How can I still love him? After all of it, how is it possible?

“That guy I kissed, it just reminded me of how I don’t have him to do that with anymore and I never will,” I say, glancing at Avery.

“Do you still love him?” she asks me, some sort of morphed pain and pity bleeding through her eyes.

“Of course,” I reply with no hesitation, “I’ve always loved him, it’s always been him and I can’t stop now, I’m in too deep. But I have to make myself.”

She gently pulls my body into her arms, “this will get easier, it’s still the first night. The feelings are fresh, the wounds are new and they need time to heal.”

“I just don’t understand,” I whisper, “I love him so much my heart bleeds but he never felt it back that same kind of love… and I was stupid enough to think he did.”

“I think he did,” she murmurs, “I really do.”

“You don’t have to do that, you can be honest,” I say softly, “it’s not like it can hurt anymore.”

“I’m serious I promise,” she replies, “you don’t see it as clearly we do. When you came into Gray’s life he changed in the best possible way. I mean I’ve not known him as long as his brother but I saw it. And they definitely did. He wasn’t the same, he was in love. I know it.”

“He kissed another girl,” I laugh bitterly.

“It doesn’t mean to say he never loved you like that,” she says.

“Suppose so,” I mumble into her.

“And for the record he was an absolute idiot for doing what he did,” she replies, a flicker of anger I wasn’t used to in Avery sparking for a fraction of a second, “actually there’s a list of words I would use that are way worse than idiot but we’ll keep it PG tonight.”

I crack a weak smile.

She softens her tone, “But seriously sweetie he’s losing the best thing he’s ever had in his life.”

“But Avery,” I say, my voice shaking, “I’m not sure I want to be lost.”

She hugs me tighter. There are no words that can fix my state we’ve both silently agreed, so she hold me as I stare up at the stars. Some glow, some twinkle, others gleam. Then they all blur as water fills my eyes. I blink away the lousy tears. I’m not going to cry.

“Avery…” I murmur hesitantly “can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” she nods.

The questions are so weighted on my chest, it’s physically hurting me, “why do you think he chose her? What did I do wrong? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs sympathetically, “it’s not like that.”

“Then why,” I choke, trying to keep my tears at bay, “why would he…”

I trail off, the tears I was trying to express rolling down my face. The sobs get stuck in my throat and I’m unable to make a sound. I silently shake in Avery’s grasp, my lungs aching.

“You cannot sit here and think you are the reason for this. I won’t let you,” she shakes her head, “I don’t know why he did what he did, that I can’t tell you, but I do know for sure that it wasn’t you. You have no faults, you did nothing wrong, you’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you’re smart and brave and kind and perfect. He’s the biggest fool of them all.”

“You think?” I snivel.

“I know,” she says, wiping away my tears with a gentle hand, “now come on, let’s go back in, have one final shot and a dance and then we’ll hit the streets at midnight, do something crazy fun and stupid, no murder please, and just breathe a little you know, forgetting all of this.”

“Okay,” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent more tears from spilling over.

I am strong. I am strong. I am strong

She stands up and dusts her little dress off before hoisting me up behind. She flashes a smile my way that reminds me of Jameson for a split second. I eagerly take her hand and we re enter. The lights feel as if they’re flashing brighter than before. The fluorescence stings slightly. The familiar aroma of sweat mixed with all manner of alcoholic drinks hits us as well.

Just as we’ve reached the dance floor Avery says, “Jamie’s calling, give me a second.”

She rushes off out of the back door, probably to hear him better, leaving me alone on the dance floor. I don’t really feel much like dancing so lazily drag my feet to the bar and take another shot. The liquid burns my throat and I feel somewhat alive as I slowly swing my hips and move my arms to whatever beat is playing.

I feel dead. I don’t understand how in the space of mere minutes I can go from feeling so emotive, so distraught, so melancholy to nothingness. A wave of coldness from empty voids and bottomless pits.

I hand touches my shoulder and I jolt as the unfamiliar touch makes me jump. I look up to see a man stood there, but he’s a little fuzzy. The alcohol is getting to my head.

“You alone sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The word cuts like a poisoned blade. Grayson calls me that.

“No,” I respond calmly, positioning my back more towards him, hoping he’ll gage my body language and kindly leave me be.

“Well you’re very pretty,” he grins, flashing white teeth I’m sure he paid a lot for.

“I’m sure my boyfriend would agree with you,” I say coolly.

“Which one’s yours then?” he asks, clearly still not catching onto the several messages I’m sending him.

I shrug, “why do you care?”

“Maybe you’re wasting your time on him,” he smiles. Something about the smile makes goosebumps rise on the surface of my skin and an icy shiver run down my spine. Something about him isn’t right and I didn’t like it.

“I highly doubt it,” I reply nonchalantly, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Come on sweetheart,” he says, making my skin crawl, “you can ditch your boyfriend for a night, I promise I’ll be better. Ask anyone in here.”

My stomach twists and something goes off in me. Like a ticking time bomb that’s finally hit zero.

“Look here mister,” I snarl, “there’s hundreds of other women in this place that would love to get into your bed, find one and do it, but leave me alone. I’m not interested and I’m taken.”

“You heard her Dex, back off,” shouts a new voice.

I look up to see another man, with a striking resemblance to the one I was talking to, behind him. Brothers, I infer silently. Dex glares at his brother and then turns back to me.

“Okay, until next time then,” he says with a wink.

He skulks away as I roll my eyes. I go to turn back to my drink when Avery comes crashing into me. I gasp audibly before I catch a glance at her. She looks pale.

“What? What’s wrong?” I ask quickly, checking over her to make sure she was physically in tact.

“We have to cut our trip short,” she tells me, regret and apology lacing her tone.

My heart thumps in my chest and a million thoughts race through my mind.

“Gigi’s missing.”

And suddenly I’m very very sober.

***

LYRA’S POV

Finding out he was with someone else made me feel sick to my stomach. I can’t explain it exactly. It’s just this horrible awful tug in the gut. I am the other woman. I shiver at the thought.

I thought everything was going to be okay, that for a change, life might be on my side. I deserve it don’t I? To be happy, to be free, to be in love. I thought wrong. I always think wrong. I am the fool of a flower that let her pretty petals be plucked by anyone who pleased until she became a stem. Until no one wanted her. The tender truth of it all burns violently all over my skin.

So I dance.

Dance is my way to escape all of this, my freedom. The music begins and my heart aches louder, screaming in my ears. The pain coursing through my limbs that delicately dust the empty air. I reach out to touch something that doesn’t exist. I relax into a deep plié letting the music seep through my throbbing soul and form the moves. I do a gentle three step turn on pointe and the pace of the music picks up.

I hurt an innocent girl, who fell under the same loving spell that Hawthorne’s are so good at casting as I did. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? I thought he looked at me differently, I thought his gentle touch he only used for me, I thought his words were mine to cherish. But I’m just another trophy in his grand cabinet. Another meaningless prize to collect on the journey to greatness.

I developpé sauté to perfection. I am nothing to him. And now, he’s even less to me. I pirouette and pirouette and pirouette, spiralling into furious thoughts. I’m angry. How dare he turn me into someone I am not. Making me betray my own morals. As if he has that right, that power. Men always feel so entitled, so deserving of power. He couldn’t just have one girl and be happy, no he had to find another. He had to act of his greed, the fatal flaw that poisons so many men. How many more will fall into greed’s bloodied hands?

I grand jeté until my thighs burn but I keep perfect positioning. I hate the fact that I’m feeling so deeply, that my emotions are so raw and intense. It’s too much for my mind to take, I’m so overwhelmed and head is splitting, pounding, screaming. My breath picks up the more grande jetès I do. My chest is so tight, so constricted, so suppressed. It feels as if an invisible force is choking me. I come to a halt suddenly and find myself paralysed in an arabesque, unable to breathe.

The music has silenced. Nothing dare move and the world comes to a standstill. I let myself get wrapped up in feelings I shouldn’t have had. I’m an idiot. Lyra Kane doesn’t fall in love, she doesn’t trust people with herself, she doesn’t let people in. Especially not Hawthornes. Never Hawthornes. I intricately move my feet. On pointe, pivot, flat, up, on pointe, down, in, out, over, up. At some point my mind hits a blank, a white room and I just move to what feels most natural. My mind doesn’t properly register the moves. I become aware I’m performing rapid battements and sissones when I’m deep in analysis. I should’ve seen the signs sooner.

The way he stared at her while we were dancing, the look of distraction and captivation in his eyes. The guilt that flashed across his face every time he got that little bit closer to me. The minute he had to take after our lift in the room we’d been locked in with Odette. It all made sense now.

My legs extend naturally as I leap with great height across the room. It was so pathetically unfair. Everything in his life is perfect, he’s got the money, the face, the family, the support. People would kill to be in his position, quite literally. And he takes it all for granted. God, how did I think I could love someone like that?

I travel with light and airy sauté passes. Everything to a Hawthorne is a game. Including people. I was his game. And he played me. Just like he played y/n. I only wish I could talk to her, tell her I understand how she feels but I’m probably the last face in this earth she’d ever want to see.

My movements are now sharp and staccato, jagged and uneven. The opposite of what a ballerina should be. Catherine Howal wouldn’t let me forget that if she were watching me today. My old dance teacher was always strict on me, but right now I missed the sharpness of her voice and her minor corrections. She made me the dancer I am today. I push the bittersweet memory of her away and my rage over Grayson bubbles over. Even his name now disgusts me. It used to be one that I craved to say, to feel my mouth curve in the shape of each and every letter. Now it’s just a reminder of my sheer revulsion for him.

I pirouette I don’t know how many time on pointe. I’m dizzy, but not from the turns but from the idea that I let myself be so easily tempted by a pretty face. I begin a fast paced sequence of fouettés and chainés across the space, desperately trying to hold myself together. I’m poised, I’m professional is what I try to tell myself. If only I had known, I wouldn’t have. Ever. I wouldn’t have even looking into those stupid gray eyes. But he knew, he knew how to manipulate my feelings, he knew what he had the power to do. I was a marionette that obeyed every string he pulled without even knowing it. He lead me on. He had a girlfriend and he lead me on. Why did he lead me on?

God, he’s even more of a jerk than I’d given him credit for. Hawthornes never change. With this painful honest realisation my movements gradually return to more fluid and flowing motions, interspersed with slow gentle turns. It’s ruined, the moment we shared. It’s now tainted. How can I even imagine such a beautiful kiss without feeling regret? Without tasting the bitter aftertaste that coats my mouth even now? I pirouette for the final time, getting so lost with each spin I’ve lost count of how many I’ve done. It’s an everlasting void of blurry scenery and my messed up mind.

I collapse into a helpless heap on the floor, finishing the routine. There is no fight left, no anger, no pain, no momentum. Just space. The little girl in her ballet flats is long gone. The teenager locking her pointe shoes away has also disappeared. The woman who lent her heart to a Hawthorne for far too long will never return again. Every part of me is lost. I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore. All I know is that, the dancer in me is broken.

***

YOUR POV

“Any word?” I rush in, Avery close beside me.

“We need to know everything,” she says, dominance in her tone.

We had arrived back on the island practically in a flash. My head is all over the place, jumbled with attempts to remember things that could help us find Gigi. My heart dropped when I found out. We couldn’t lose out Gigi.

“Y/n!” Xander exclaims.

He looks in shock to see me, both burnt and unburnt eyebrows raised, jaw dropped. Jameson wears a similar expression and so does Nash. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Yeah?” I reply bluntly.

“You’re here,” he says, eyes bulging.

“Unless I’ve magically become a hologram in the past 2 minutes,” I say looking at my watch, “yeah I’m here.”

“Right,” he nods slowly, before turning back to his computer.

“So Gigi,” Avery says, steering us back to the present.

“We’re just about to scout for her,” Jameson explains.

“And I’m attempting to search the security footage,” Xander calls, eyed glued to the screen.

“If someone kidnapped her wouldn’t they cut it?” I ask.

“The main footage has been cut but we’re Hawthornes,” Nash flashes a very Hawthorne grin, “there’s always a back up camera where they least expect it.”

“Unfortunately for us, it’s a very blurry back up camera,” Jameson grimaces.

“Oh,” Avery sighs.

“With horrible sound,” Nash adds.

“Fantastic,” I smile sarcastically, walking behind Xander to look at the screen.

They are right. The screen is black and white and pretty much the blurriest thing I’d ever seen. Our situation is looking quite dismal.

“I’m putting better back up security on my to do list,” Avery murmurs.

“I’ll second that,” Jameson says, kissing her cheek.

“We have to find her,” she says, leaning into him, “Jamie we have to.”

“I know heiress, we’re going to, don’t worry,” he soothes, giving her that look. The look that only men in love can master.

My heart feels sore and I turn. Then I realise why. The room suddenly feels so empty, so hollow. And I feel alone despite being surrounded by people. He’s not here. My head had been so caught up on my millions of thoughts that I hadn’t registered it.

“Where’s Grayson?” I ask out of the blue.

The whole room stands still. Everyone is frozen by a force I didn’t know existed until this moment. No one dare move, let alone breathe. A sickening chill rolls down my spine and I fear the worst.

“He’s outside,” Jameson finally says.

“He won’t move,” Nash adds quietly, looking down at the floor.

Xander sighs, “and we had to take the whiskey away from him.”

“You left him alone!” I yell, not meaning to sound so attacking.

“We didn’t know what else to do, he isn’t exactly a joy to be around right now and we need to find Gigi,” Jameson reasons.

“We thought it’d be best to focus on that, the sooner we get Gigi found, the sooner he’ll marginally snap out of dark era,” Nash explains further.

“I’m going to talk to him,” I reply, my tone sharp and definite. No one was going to tell me no.

Eyes snap up at me. All four pairs. I can read all of their emotions so clearly it’s painful. Elements of confusion, shock and pity wash over me, but I push it all to the side. What they thought didn’t matter.

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that…” Jameson trails off.

“No,” I tell him softly, “I do.”

He opens his mouth to argue.

“I can help him, you know that and so do I,” I say before he can get a word out, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”

***

He’s sat on the rocks, looking over the choppy water. The wind whips the hair across my face and back again. My cheeks grow rosy with the cold. He hurt me, but he’s hurting. I can’t let him hurt alone. As pathetic as it may be I physically can’t. Slowly I approach from behind. I know he can hear me but he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t even move a muscle. He just sits and stares.

I cautiously sit beside him, my legs hanging over the edge. The reflection of death’s face snickers at me in the water. Still, Grayson does not move. He remains a stationary block, robotic almost. I look towards at him and analyse his features. He’s sober. But oh lord is he broken. I turn away, any longer and I might’ve done something stupid.

“Are you okay?” I murmur, looking out to the moon kissed water miniature waves bobbing up and down.

“You’re asking me?” he almost scoffs. I can tell he’s been sobbing, his tone is thick and swollen with grief. It stings my soul, like antiseptic to a fresh wound.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I reply quietly.

“Because I hurt you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Just because someone hurts you doesn’t mean you have to hurt them too,” I respond, finally turning to look at him.

To my surprise his eyes are ready for me, already locked onto my every move. They meet and something washes over me, something that probably shouldn’t.

“How are you so kind?” he asks, something tender in his voice. It makes my soul squeeze.

“People need to be nicer to each other in this world,” I shrug in response.

“They do,” he says quietly, playing with his fingers.

“So,” I exhale, “are you okay?”

I already know the answer. He’s not. He’s filled with guilt and sorrow and hatred and anger and upset and conflict. He’s the furthest from okay you can get.

“Not really,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

“Not really,” I grin.

A ghost of a smile haunts his features. Who gave him the right to look so beautiful?

“Gigi will be okay,” I tell him confidently.

He shakes his head as pain constricts his features, “ we don’t know that.”

“She’s stronger than you think she is,” I reply quickly.

“She’s just a kid,” he growls.

“No, she’s not Gray,” I snapped fiercely, “she’s bold and she’s brave and she can handle herself, but we will find her, we won’t stop until we do.”

He stares at me. Eyes fixated, like I’m worthy of being looked at. My heart rate picks up and that’s when I realise that this is all wrong. I can’t be the idiot that lets him back in, I won’t be.

“What?” I ask.

He says nothing but his silver eyes still remained glued to mine.

“What is it Grayson?” I whispered, the wind barely carrying my words.

“I still love you.”

The words hit me like a tonne of bricks. I can’t respond. All the air is knocked out of me. His hand is in my chest and wrapped around my heart. He’s squeezed it between his fingertips and licked my blood greedily from his fingers. He stills loves me. And I know I still love him too, but I can’t say that. I won’t.

“How can I trust you?” I scoff, letting my rage take hold. It’s better than my love.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs softly. Did his voice have to be so soft?

“Fool me once, shame on you,” I state, “fool me twice, shame on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells me. I can hear he means it, I can see he means it but I can’t believe it. He was too good of a liar before, too talented of an actor. I can’t afford to fall for it again.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” I press on.

“I know…” he trails off, voice hoarse, “but I don’t know what other words to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” I snap, shooting him a fiery look.

“But I love you,” Grayson says, too much emotion decorating his tone.

“If you loved me you wouldn’t have kissed her,” I say, throwing it all back in his face. He needed to face the truth and so did I.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to love me too, but I need you to know and hear it from my lips that I love you,” he confesses, his eyes not wavering for a second, pinning me down with their addictive nature. It feels like my hands are tied. I’m a prisoner to those eyes. I always have been.

“I’ve heard it from your lips a thousand times before today and you still did what you did,” I spit back, the words rolling from my tongue before I gave them permission to.

He falters, there’s no words left to say.

“I want you to be happy, that’s all I care about,” I tell him, my tone still slightly jagged, “so drop the guilt, I forgive you. But things can’t go back to how they were, not after this.”

They are all lies. Every single sentence. I’m avoiding the truth beating so loudly in my chest. I’m ignoring its petulant screaming. I’m such a hypocrite. I loathe him for his lies and then I return them with my own tongue.

“How can I drop the guilt when it’s all I know now?” he murmurs.

“You’ll find a way, you’re stronger than you think Grayson. You doubt yourself too often,” I sigh.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but runs a hand through his hair, then over his face. After one too many best of silence he turns to me one final time.

“Why are you so good?” he asks me.

“It’s not a question of good or bad it’s a question of what’s right,” I say impatiently, “I’m not going to just sit here and let you wallow because that’s not you Grayson and you know it.”

“You’re an angel,” he murmurs, almost in a daze.

But you chose the dancer. The words are on the tip of my tongue but I don’t say them.

“No time for flattery, we’re wasting time,” I sigh, “let’s go and find Gigi.”

***

GRAYSON’S POV

We search for four hours straight until all of us are too exhausted to speak. We need to sleep, though we’re all too stubborn to admit it. As a collective we decide half of us are to get some rest whilst the other half stay up two more hours, then we’ll switch. I take the first shift, searching with Jameson. Xander is still inside still attempting decipher the body on the mini security camera or placement of Gigi’s phone and everyone else has gone to sleep.

Jameson and I are on the edge of the island, calling for Gigi with raw throats and pounding heads. I can’t believe I’d lost her. I was meant to protect her, look after her. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen when I was around. I’ve failed as a brother.

“What did she say to you?” Jameson asks snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look up. I knew exactly who ‘she’ was.

“Who?” I reply plainly.

“Don’t play dumb,” he rolls his eyes at me.

Sometimes it was annoying how well my brothers knew me.

“She asked me if I was okay, comforted me about Gigi and helped me pull myself together.” I pause, “she told me that wallowing isn’t what I do.”

“Are you sure she knows you properly?” Jameson raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

I try to crack a smile but can’t.

“I told her I still loved her,” I blurt out.

I don’t know why I say it, the words just come out. Jameson has that effect on me. Lying to him has always been difficult, I feel so transparent in his presence. And I know he’ll be honest, he won’t sugarcoat what he really thinks. Maybe that’s why it’s easier.

His eyes grow to the size of saucepans, “what?”

“I told her I st-“

“I know what you said Gray but are you crazy?” he asks me, looking semi-genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, “maybe.”

“That was selfish,” he seethes, eyes blazing with fury. Similar to how they looked earlier.

“Selfish?” I furrow my brows, “she deserves to know!”

“No, you needed to get it off of your chest in a last ditch attempt to get her back,” he snaps.

I’m not fighting the truth this time. He’s hit the nail on the head. My silence unfortunately speaks volumes and my brother understands.

“So…” he exhales, “what did she say?”

“If I loved her I wouldn’t have kissed Lyra,” I say, her words rubbing through my head again.

“She’s right,” he sighs.

“She always is,” I say, my voice catching slightly.

“I don’t think she’s okay,” Jameson murmurs, “I don’t think Avery does either.”

“It’s all my fault,” I groan, closing my eyes.

I wish I could be taken out of her life, erased forever just so she could be happy. I deserve to hurt, not her. Never her.

“She shouldn’t love me,” I say, the words becoming more real when I say them out loud.

“No one decides who they love, it just happens,” he shrugs at me.

I open my mouth to reply but a familiar ringing cuts me off. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I presume it’s Xander for some sort of update so I answer the way I always do.

“It’s Grayson,” I say sharply.

I hear Jameson mutter something about how weird it was that I answered like that but I choose to kindly ignore him.

“I know,” the voice sings from the other side.

All the oxygen is robbed from my lungs and I struggle to breathe. Every muscle ceases to move and I become a picture frozen in time. It couldn’t be, she wouldn’t call me, it shouldn’t happen.

“Y/n?”

Her name feels foreign to my tongue in that moment, despite the thousands of times I’d uttered it. Jameson gapes.

“Grayson Davenport Hawthorne actually,” she corrects me, her speech a little slurred, “one s, one v and one h.”

“Are you drunk?” I ask bluntly.

“Noooo silly,” she laughs, “I don’t get drunk I’m always fine, perfect actually. That’s what you used to call me, perfect!”

My heart shatters, “you are perfect.”

She giggles, the sound so light and airy and beautiful I want to lock it away and play it on repeat to myself all the time.

“Where are you?” I question.

There’s a few beats of silence before, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” I say, suddenly alarmed. Protection surges through me and all I want to do is run to wherever she is and scoop her up into my arms.

“I’m in a room,” she explains, soundly dazed, out of it.

“Your room?” I prompt her.

“Maybe,” she muses, “there’s all my stuff here but this burning liquid I’m drinking is not mine. It’s kind of hurting my throat.”

“Stay right where you are,” I snap, “I’m going to get someone to come and help you.”

I want the someone to be me. Why can’t the someone be me?

“Help? I don’t need help! I’m fine, always fine. I’m never not fine,” she laughs. I can imagine her tipping her head back with a hand on her stomach.

“I know lo-“ I catch myself again, almost saying love, “I know, but don’t you want a friend to talk to you right now?”

“Yeahhh I do,” she agrees, her words all mushing together into one.

“Good, someone will be right over-“

“Gray can you come?” she murmurs.

I stop. She sounds too vulnerable, too helpless for me to ignore. Her voice is small and cautious. It makes me want to weep.

“Where?” I ask.

“Here…” she trails off, “…with me.”

“Okay,” I blurt out before actually thinking about what I was saying.

“Then bye bye pumpkin pie,” she giggles, “oh my gosh I just rhymed!!”

“Yes you did,” I chuckle, the smile stretched out in my face physically agonising me. She could always make me smile.

I made her cry.

“Are you coming then?” she makes sure, with that soft defenceless voice again.

“On my way now,” I reply, almost as if it’s a reflex.

“Oh good,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice. With that she hangs up. I shove my phone back in my pocket and meet my brother’s eye.

“She’s drunk,” I explain slowly.

“I heard,” he nods.

“I’m worried she’s going to do something stupid,” I admit with a sigh.

“Go and help her, I’ll carry on looking for Gigi,” Jameson says, as if it’s that simple.

“No I can’t do that,” I shake my head.

“Why not?” he furrows his brows.

“She hates me,” I say quickly, “you go.”

“She asked for you,” he points out, “and I think she’ll notice if I turn up.”

“Maybe she won’t,” I suggest.

“She can’t be that drunk,” he rolls his eyes, then sighs, “look Gray, this might be the last time she ever asks you for help, so go and help her, look after her, then leave.”

“This won’t end well,” I tell him. I can feel it in my chest and in my stomach. If I go there, I’ll lose myself and she won’t be in the right mind to stop me.

“Then don’t go,” he says with a shrug.

I groan, “but she needs someone.”

“You’re arguing with yourself Gray,” Jameson says. And he’s right. The only person who’s stopping me is me. I just don’t want to do the wrong thing.

“It my fault she’s in this situation,” I reply, “it’s my fault she’s on her own, drunk and at risk of doing something stupid.”

“All the more reason for you to go and fix it,” he says.

I stand in silence. That consolidates my answer. To myself and to him.

“Let me know if you get any word of Gigi, I’ll be back soon,” I say, sharply adjusting my suit jacket.

“Bye,” he salutes.

***

I’m quick to make my way to her, the worry sort of takes over and my instinctual protection kicks in. When I get there the door is unlocked, my first indication to how drunk she really is.

“Grayson is that you?” I hear her murmur.

Her voice is vulnerable but the sweet notes are all the same. If I were to hear any voice for the rest of my life I’d want it to be hers. I’d never tire of listening to it. I walk further in the room I see her, the moonlight streaming through the window is the only thing illuminating her figure. Her face is red and there are prominent dark circles underneath her eyes. She looks pale and hollow and there’s something not quite right about her eyes, their usual sparkle dimmed. A catch a glimpse of a glass half empty in her hand.

“How much have you had?” I ask her, cocking my head towards the glass.

“Not that much,” she grins lazily, stumbling over herself in an attempt to make her way towards me.

“You need to get to bed,” I say softly.

All I want to do is scoop her up into my arms and hold her close to my chest, taking in her sweet shampoo. I want to keep her safe, protect her forever but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself. I make a silent promise that I won’t get too close, I won’t touch her because I know once I do I’ll fall in too deep.

“But I’m not even sleepy,” she pouts.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. Those lips are killing me softly.

“Come on,” I murmur gently, gesturing to the bed.

“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head, “you’re going to have to carry me.”

I sigh and weigh up my options before lifting her up into my arms, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can’t just leave her. She squeals and giggles. An essence of sunshine shining back through the empty void I’d entered.

“Do you feel okay?” I ask her, lowering her down onto the mattress.

“Me? I’m fine!” she smiles, that beautiful smile, “are you okay?”

She tilts her head to the side and a chunk of hair falls over her face.

“I’m fine,” I say, moving it out of the way. It surrounds her like a halo.

“Oh well I know that’s a lie,” she laughs, “I’ve always known that about you though, you’re hurting. On the inside.”

“I am hurting,” I say, caressing her cheek, “but you’re hurting more.”

“I’m not hurting, I’m in the numbing process,” she explains with great enthusiasm.

“Hence the alcohol?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I call it happy juice,” she grins.

“Well no more happy juice tonight,” I explain to her.

“Why not?” she pouts, “it makes me happy.”

“It also destroys your liver,” I say, taking the glass away from her and putting it on the other side of the room.

“Come sit,” she murmurs, patting the bed beside her, “please.”

“I don’t think I should,” I reply. I have to stay strong, I can’t listen to my heart, my brain must have superiority.

“But I want you to,” she whispers.

My brain switches off. I sit beside her and as soon as I’m on the bed, her head falls into my lap, quite literally. It flops down as if she can’t hold it up any longer.

“Can you do that thing, where you massage my head and be all gentle with my hair, I love it when you do that,” she asks me.

When we were together I used to do it all the time subconsciously. If we were watching the television or cuddling. I never realised she loved it so much.

“I’m not sure you want me to,” I say hesitantly. This isn’t fair on her. She’s not in her right mind, she can’t make a decision properly.

“Of course I do!” she exclaims, “that’s why I asked you silly!”

“It’s not a good idea,” I murmur, only saying this because it is right not because it is true, “us being this close.”

“I disagree,” she says cheerily.

“You won’t like it when you sober up,” I warn her. Deep down I know she can’t even comprehend this, I know her mind if fogged over by alcohol and she doesn’t know what she’s really doing. But it doesn’t make me leave.

“I am sober-ish,” she says, “that’s good enough.”

“You are anything but sober,” I chuckle shaking my head.

“Head massage please,” she says, readjusting her head in my lap.

Slowly I comb the hair out of her face and eyes. My fingertips slide gently through her silky hair. The silence is torturing. Seconds morph into minutes until if feels like it’s been hours. I’m being strangled by no sound, suffocated by a blanket of blankness. To distract myself I weave my hands in and out in a rhythmic pattern.

“Why did you choose her?” a small voice asks making me jump. We’d been sat in silence for so long I’d forgotten that we could speak. My hands stop moving suddenly as I register the question.

“What?”

“Is it because she was prettier? Better personality? Funnier? Nicer? Happier?” she lists.

“I didn’t choose her,” I shake my head in defiance.

“But you kissed her,” she says, yet again. The words sting every time they come out of her mouth.

“That was a mistake,” I explain resting my heavy head back until it hit the headboard.

“So were all of our kisses a mistake too?” she asks, rolling onto her back so her eyes are gazing up into mine.

“None of them were,” I murmur in reply, the colour of them so mesmerising it was distracting.

“Then I don’t understand,” her eyebrows pinch together in confusion.

“You don’t need to,” I whisper running my fingertip over her knuckles.

She sighs and sadness ripples over her face. I hate seeing her with that expression on her face. It rips me apart.

“My chest hurts,” she moans softly.

“Where?” I ask urgently, running through every illness and condition that could possibly cause chest pains.

“Here,” she says pointing to her heart, “you broke it.”

My eyes grow glossy even though I didn’t ask them to. She lets me take my hand and place it on top of hers to feel the steady beat in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to,” I barely choke out.

“But you did and it can’t be mended, pain like this there aren’t any pills for,” she tells me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that before,” she smiles sadly.

“It’s true,” I whisper.

“Can you fix me?” she says quietly, “because I can’t fix me.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces, fragmenting into shards of pulsating muscle.

“Of course you can fix you,” I tell her.

“No I can’t,” she says, beginning to tear up, “look at me, this is the real me and she’s ugly.”

“This isn’t the real you and she is most certainly not ugly,” I assure her.

She giggles with tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Beautiful even in tears.

“What?” I ask her.

“You use big words like ‘certainly’, it makes you sound very posh,” she chuckles to herself.

“I’m not that posh,” I reply.

She scoffs, “have you seen your house?!”

“Maybe I’m a bit posh then.”

“You know how ealierrr,” she slurs, “how you and me were talkingggg.”

“You might not want to continue that sentence lo-“ I stop myself from saying love. She’s not my love. She’s not mine to love.

“No,” she shakes her head, “no I do want to carry on actually…” she giggles bringing ther fingertip to my nose, “boop!”

“Okay,” I say softly, taking her hand into mine, away from my nose or any other poke-able part of my face.

“You said you still love me,” she says.

The beating in my chest begins to slow, as does my breathing, “I did.”

“And I still love you too.”

I can’t speak.

“But I can’t say it out loud, because then I’m an idiot for loving someone who cut me deeper than any weapon could ever cut me. And I tried to drink it all away, believe me I tried, but then halfway through my fifth glass I kind of realised it wasn’t working. And then I realised why. It’s because I still fucking love you, how depressing is that? You murdered my heart and yet it can’t stop beating your name. I mean it’s so on brand for me because my whole life people have told me that I always love the wrong too hard, that I get in too deep to come back out of and I’m just proving them all right,” she laughs and sobs at the same time, “I’m so stupid, so horribly ironically stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” I snap.

“You’re only saying that because you still love me,” she groans, rolling her eyes.

“I would say it regardless, any competent person can see that,” I say.

“But you still love me?” she murmurs, her for eyes forcing the truth from my lips.

“I still love you,” I say.

I knew something stupid like this would happen but I’m not stopping it now.

“How? How can you still love me when you love her?” she asks, agony in her tone.

“I don’t,” I tell her sharply,

She furrows her brows, “you don’t love Lyra?”

“No,” I shakes my head.

“But you kissed her,” she says, tracing a fingertip across my bottom lips.

I shy away from her tentative touch, “I did but that was the worst mistake of my life.”

“Why?” she laughs.

“Because I’m losing you because of it,” I admit. She won’t remember tomorrow morning, she won’t remember what she said or why she said it. This moment will be lost in time and I’ll be the only one left to remember it.

“You’re just losing the outside me, I have a feeling I’ll always love you,” she replies.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I shake my head, “you’re drunk, you need to sleep.”

I need to stop this. I’m being selfish again. She’s pouring her heart out to me because she can’t control her mouth. It’s not fair and I won’t let her do it anymore.

“No I do know what I’m saying,” she insist, sitting up, “you don’t understand what you do to me and I wish I wasn’t so in love with you because maybe I’d be able to walk away more easily but I can’t, because this love isn’t just love. It’s something more for me.”

I’m in shock. A physical state of shock. It was more to me too…. I know I must go quickly before this escalates. It’s already gone far too far. Enough is enough.

“Look sweeth-“ I stop myself, “y/n, I need to leave.”

I stand up quickly and attempt to make a b-line for the door.

“No!” she yelled, yanking be back down. Her fingers clawing at my arm, like a scared animal, “please Gray, stay with me.”

“I can’t,” I shake my head, my face pinching in pain.

“You have to,” she begs, tugging at my arm.

I sigh, “you’ll be mad at me tomorrow if I stay tonight.”

“No I won’t silly,” she says, “please I need someone to cuddle.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell her. As much as I want her in my arms again, to feel her skin against mind and listen to her sweet breathing as she sleeps I can’t. I can’t do it to her, I won’t.

“Well I do,” she says, pushing me down firmly.

Slowly she crawls onto me and curls up against my chest. If the last twelve hours had never happened this would be totally normal and completely natural. Instead I carrying the heaviest stone of guilt I’ve ever lifted. I can’t leave her, but I can’t stay either.

“You won’t like this in the morning,” I tell her, hoping she might find to her senses.

“Well I like it now,” she yawns, cozying further into me.

“That’s because you’re drunk,” I explain, resting my cheek on top of her head. I smell her sweet shampoo and deja vu washes over me like a tidal wave. I’m swept under

“Grayson?” she whispers gently.

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll just stay for tonight, then you can leave me for the dancer again tomorrow,” she says.

The bones in my chest ache and the pump that supplies me with blood crushed between fate’s cruel fingers.

“I’m not leaving you angel,” I tell her firmly, “not ever again.”

“I love you,” she mumbles, the words muffling against my chest.

“I love you too,” I whisper, planting a kiss onto the top of her head.

***

heyyyy guysss. so you’ve probably noticed this is the first fic I’ve posted in a bit of a while. It’s bc of exams and stuff and also this fic was so long. I got a little bit carried away mid way through but oh well… I hope you guys enjoyeddd 💖💖

am I dancer? Yes. The last time I did ballet? when I was about nine years old…. so apologies to any actual ballet dancers who are reading lyra’s routine and are thinking what in the world…

ANYWAYS I love love loved writing this and I know different POVs sometimes are a bit controversial but I felt like it was necessary here and thanks for readinggg 🤍🤍

also no one asked but I’m going tell you guys anyway, Lyra’s dance is based off of a song called girl with one eye by florence and the machine (omg it’s such a good song)

I wonder if any of you worked out my little clue 🤭🤭

hint: weiv fo tniop s’aryl

TIG masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 48

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: alright.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You sit with Harper and Avery on the floor and roll a car around the track. Most nights you end up like this. Sometimes you feel like a child too. 

You’ve offered to help Ann clean up after dinner but she says you’re much more help keeping an eye on the children. Steve’s usually up in his office or in the kitchen with her. That night, it’s the latter. You can hear their voices in a low murmur but there words are hidden behind the childrens’ squeals and arguing. 

“Watch this!” Avery sends a car flying up the track and it bounces on the wall. 

“Woah, don’t do that,” you get up to retrieve it and check for a dent. “You could hit someone.” 

“So? It's fun,” she argues. 

You just shrug. Even with them, you can’t really argue. They’re not your kids. 

As you lower yourself back to your knees, a figure appears in the archway. You glance over as Ann smiles and rests a hand on her hip. You set the car back on the track. 

“Kids, it’s bath time. Your dad’s turn tonight.” 

“I don’t want a bath,” Harper whines. 

“Well, honey, you need one, so go before Daddy comes down to get you,” she tuts. 

The children groan in disappointment but get up. She points them around her and up the stairs. She goes to watch their ascent and you work at collecting the cars and dump them into the plastic bucket. Ann returns as you take down the track. 

“You are so good with them, sweetie,” she praises. “And they love you.” 

You nod as you focus on your task, “thanks.” 

Your skin buzzes in dread. You know how the night will end. Like any other. It’s been almost a month and the routines clear. You never go to bed alone. 

“Can you do me a favour?” She asks and you drop the last piece of track into the bucket. You stop and look at her.  

“Sure, uh, what?” 

She smiles again, “it’s hard to explain. Come with me.” 

You try not to show your discomfort. You get up and cross the room. She stops you and cradles your face between her hands. She presses her lips to yours. 

“Don’t worry, we’re just making sure you’re doing okay,” she drops her hand and grabs yours. 

She takes you through the half-bath on the first floor. It’s cramped with both of you inside. You’re confused. She shuts the door and you twiddle your fingers. As she opens the cabinet, heat crawls up your neck. 

“Ann, I... what’s--” 

“Don’t be nervous,” she chimes, “it’s okay. Just a test.” 

She takes out a plastic package and tears it open. She slips out a strip and looks over at you. 

“Go on, you need to pee on it,” she hands it over. 

“Pee?” You frown and look at the strip. “You think I’m pregnant?” 

She laughs, “oh, no, sweetie. This is an ovulation test. It let’s us know when you could get pregnant. We just want to be safe.” 

You’re confused. Why would they test you for that? If you’re ovulating, does that mean they won’t bother you? 

“Oh, okay,” you take the strip and approach the toilet. You wait but she stays. 

“I want to make sure you do it right,” she insists. “Go on.” 

You don’t argue. You’re too embarrassed. You pull your skirt up and slip down your panties. You sit and reach between your legs. Your bladder hurts but you can’t make yourself go. 

“Oh, here,” she turns on the sink, “that will help. Just think of a waterfall.” 

You close your eyes and focus. You can hear her moving around as you struggle to make yourself pee. She tisks and comes closer to you. You refuse to look. She moves your hand and pours water over you. 

“Let me know when you’re going, sweetie.” 

The water helps relax you and you squeak as you start to go. She shifts quickly and puts the strip under your stream. The warm urine splashes onto your fingers. She keeps your hand there until you’re done. 

She takes the strip away before you can look. She places it on the sink and washes her hands. You wipe and pull up your panties. You near to rinse off as well. You reach for the soap and scrub your hands. 

“Oh, sweetie!” She looks at the strip and scoops it up with a wad of toilet paper. “That’s so good!” 

She tosses it and hands you a towel. You dry off and she just as quickly drags you out of the room. You stumble after her. 

“Am I... ovulating?” You ask dumbly. You don’t even know what difference it would make. 

“Don’t worry. It’s good, it’s good.”  

She takes you upstairs and you hear splashing in the bathroom, a rectangle of light shining through the door onto the wall. Ann ushers you into your room and closes the door. 

“Come on, let’s have some fun before Steve gets here,” she tugs at your shirt.  

“Can’t-- can’t we wait?” 

“Oh, no sweetie, let’s get you warmed up for him,” she shoves her hands between your legs and you stagger back. “You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” 

“Please, I—I'm not ready--” 

“You are perfectly ready,” she purrs and pushes you so you land on the bed, “you want me to eat it? I can use my fingers? Or you can play with me?” 

She peels off her white blouse. You drag yourself up the bed, mortified. You should be use to it by now but she’s not like Steve. She’s not nice. She’s pushy. 

You sit frozen as she strips down. When she approaches, you don’t fight her. She undresses you in turn and puts you on your back. She holds herself over you and pushes her thigh against your cunt. She rocks. 

“How’s that?” She breathes, “you’re already wet.” 

You wriggle as you lay paralysed, arms at your side, spine rigid. She pulls your legs around her and you hook them over her hips. She reaches down and glides her fingers between your folds. 

“Mm, if only I were a man. I’d fuck you so good, baby. I’d break you in fucking half,” she snarls and snaps her teeth at you. “Little slut.” 

“Please,” you beg. 

“You like fucking my husband? Hm? You like the way he stretches you out and fills you up?” Her last consonant pops. “Hmm, you like being our dirty little toy.” 

“Stop,” you push on her shoulders, “I’m scared.” 

“You’re not scared. You’re selfish. You’re a broken fucking whore and all you’re good for is this,” she rams her fingers into their limit, “so lay still and take it, pretty bird. Huh,” she rocks her hips against the back of her hand, as if she’s thrusting into you, “take what I give you.” 

You close your eyes and let her do it. Your legs fall away from her and you splay helpless before her. She keeps on as her voice rises and peaks. She growls and slows down. 

“Mmm, sweetie,” she pulls her fingers free and brushes them up your body. “Taste how fucking dirty you are.” 

She shoves her fingers into your mouth and jams them in and out. You gag and cough but she ignores you. She dips her fingers into your throat, scratching you, and holds them there. You feel as if you might suffocate before she tears them away. 

She lifts herself and crawls over you. She turns and straddles your head. She smothers you with her cunt and reaches to fondle your tits. She tilts against your face and moans. You drown in her assault. 

The door clicks and she hums. 

“Baby, she’s ready,” she hums. 

“Ready?” Steve’s voice rolls back. 

“Oh, yes, she’s very ready,” she snickers. “Mm, yes, baby,” she grabs your chin and sits heavier on you, “drink it up.” 

You sense Steve at the foot of the bed, you hear his steps, the rustle of his clothes. You quiver as you’re trapped beneath Ann. He touches your ankles and you flinch. 

“Hurry up,” Ann demands, “I want to see you inside her. I want to see you fuck her pussy until she can’t stand it.” 

“Ann,” he reproaches as his hands brush up your legs. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to fill her up.” 

Steve climbs onto the bed, pushing your legs open around him. He feels along your folds and circles your entrance with his thick fingers. He moves to push his tip along your cunt and slips inside slowly. Ann snarls and bucks against your face. 

“Mm, almost there, baby, I wanna cum as you fuck her,” she puffs. 

He snaps his hips and your body contorts. You reach out blindly, flailing, and he grips your hips to keep you still. He thrusts against and you whine into Ann’s cunt. She grabs your wrists and puts your hands on her thighs. You grasp at her as Steve fucks you. 

She leans over you as her voice tinkles in short gulps and gasps. Her hand traces down to your stomach and she moans. You feel her cumming as she soaks your face in her delight. 

“That’s it, daddy, you fuck her. Fill her up good.” 

You spasm as he hammers into you harder and harder. Ann lifts herself on her knees and leans in to kiss him. He welcomes her as she as good as sits on your chest. They continue to kiss sloppily, noisily, as his hips keep pumping. 

“Baby,” she rasps, “I wish it was me,” she babbles, “I wish... I wish I could give you what you want.” 

“Mmm, fuck,” Steve growls and yanks her down your body. He pushes her so she’s flat over you, crushing you as her head hangs back next to yours.  

He pumps into you as she pushes his fingers into her cunt. She groans and writhes atop you. You shrink down into the mattress as you’re forgotten for their lust. 

Your eyes well over and spill out. You close them and turn your head. This isn’t what you want. You hate it and yet you can’t stop it. You have no where else to go. No one else who wants you. Not anyone better than them. 

Steve quakes and roars as he cums. He coats your walls as he rocks out his last few strokes and he falls forward over Ann and you. You can’t breathe beneath them. 

He slips free and rolls Ann with him as he falls onto his back. She snuggles into him and he reaches over to spread his hand over your stomach. You look down at his touch and shudder. 

“Sweetie,” he flutters his hand up to your chin and makes you look at him. “You’re gonna be such a good mommy.” 

Your lashes flick and you recoil, “what?” 

“Yes, baby,” he pushes his hand under your head and pulls you closer, fingertips digging into your skull. “You’re going to give us the best gift of all. Avery and Harper will be so happy to have a baby sister.” 

“Or brother,” Ann adds. 

“Mm, yes,” Steve agrees, “and we’ll all be a happy family.” 

“I... I...” you stutter and gulp back another wave of tears. 

You want Steve. You don’t want Ann and you don’t want a baby. But Steve doesn’t want you. He wants a baby. 

None of this is what you dreamed off. It’s all so twisted. 

You look down at his hand as he rubs circles into your skin and you sob. You can’t have a baby! You can’t. 

It’s not real, it’s not real. None of this is real. No, no, it can’t be! 

You stare at ceiling and the walls close in around you. The gray creeps into your vision and fills your veins. The panic relents and the terror dulls. You don’t want to feel. You don’t want to be. You just want to close your eyes and disappear. 

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

WE NEED SOME LYRA AND GRAY HCS 🙏

OKAYYYYY 🤭🤭🤭🙌

- grayson calls her “ms. kane” when he’s teasing her but usually just calls her “my love” or just “love” 🤭

- she’s the only one who can make him blush, and somehow managed to do it in front of his brothers. they all cheered and snapped a photo, but grayson went onto all of their phones and deleted it 💀

- whenever grayson plans a visit with gigi and sav they always make him bring lyra too because they “love her more than him” (in a joking way, but gray still told lyra and she found it funny)

- when grayson first met her parents, lyra forced him to wear a NORMAL outfit (normal pants and a nice shirt) and his brothers were all speechless when he left the house 😭😭

- whenever xander can’t get grayson to agree to something stupid, he always makes lyra ask (and he always say yes to her 🤭)

- he loves giving her nose kisses and she loves giving him forehead kisses

- before gray and lyra became a thing, gray used to wake up at around 5:30, but after they started dating and lyra started sleeping in his bed she made him get up at 7 instead because “nobody should be waking up at that time” (he’s lowk grateful for it though because he ends up feeling more energized when he does wake up)

- THIS ONES MORE A SPECIFIC SITUATION BUT STILL!!

- gray, lyra, avery, libby, max, xan, Jamie, and nash were all swimming in the pool to cool off on a hot day, when suddenly jameson pushes lyra into the pool (they’re besties so it was in a joking way 💀)

- gray gives him a look, and when lyra comes up for air and starts saying “ow, jameson you made me scrape my ankle really hard, I think it’s bleeding” the look turns into a lecture

- lyra puts a hand out for gray to hold and help her out, when suddenly her pained expression turns into a devilish grin. She tugs on his hand, and sends him flying into the pool. everybody starts laughing, when Xander’s eyes go wide and he starts telling lyra to swim to the little stairs thing that gets you out of the pool (help I forgot what it’s called 💀)

- lyra realizes at the same time what everyone else did, that she needed to swim away as fast as she could. why? because she, who is the most average and slow swimmer to ever walk this planet, just pushed a practically olympic swimmer into a pool. NOT a good idea. 💀

- she swims away, going underwater to help her move faster, when her legs suddenly get pulled from behind her. She gets spinned around and is suddenly face to face with grayson. he’s smiling, and has the same devilish expression that lyra wore earlier. taking her up with him for air, he puts an arm under her legs and one on her back and carries her out of the water baby style. xander grins and steps toward grayson, and suddenly he was carrying her ankles, and grayson was holding her arms. they threw her into the pool, and grayson teased her for the rest of the day for being a slow swimmer 🙄💗

- he’s very big on hand placement, so he always has a hand on her thigh or around her waist 🤭🙌

- lyra is a very light sleeper, meanwhile graysons a DEEP sleeper. because of this, lyra could bang pots and pans in the morning and still not wake him up, but if grayson tries to get her head off his chest with even the slightest movement in the morning she’ll immediately wake up 💀

- he’s obsessed with how she looks in dresses with the leg slit (😻) and always tells her how beautiful she looks wearing them

- grayson is in love with lyras voice, so whenever he’s having a panic attack she’s always there whispering sweet things in his ear, or even just stories that she grew up being read, and it always calms him down 😭💗💗

- acacia loves lyra and lyras mom (assuming she has a good relationship with her mom) loves grayson 🫶🫶

- grayson loves to braid lyras hair, so sometimes when she gets out of the shower and is about to go to bed he’ll braid it 💗💗

- grayson loves how she looks in dark red lipstick and can’t stop kissing her whenever she does wear it 🤭🤭

- and she loves how he looks in suits (although she’ll never admit it because she doesn’t want his ego to get somehow bigger 💀)

- grayson always has to lie about how much he spends on clothes/gifts for lyra cuz she’ll be mad if he spends too much 💀

- for example it’d go like this:

- “hey gray, how much did you spend on this necklace you got me?”

-“$60.”

-“are you sure? dont lie”

“……$600”

“are you serious?? that’s way too much to spend on a necklace!”

“okay, then you’re not gonna like the actual price..”

“why? what’s the actual price?”

“…”

“grayson…”

“just… just add one more zero…”

“$6000?????”

- because of that whole thing, she’s somehow convinced him to not spend too much money on her (he still does anyway 💀)

OKAY THATS ALL THANKS FOR THE REQUEST 🫶🫶

[knight-already]

Why do we think Severus had no friends other than Lily?

Please tell me... before anyone says he was friends with Mulciber and Avery. That was a recent affair which we learn because lily tells Severus, "I don't like the people you've been hanging out with."

It's recent.

We know, also that the werewolf attack also happens before SWM -- and we learn this particularly in the same conversation.

Did Severus join their friend group out of fear?

I know this has nothing to do with my og point, that being : is any Slytherin a good enough friend, for Severus and is Severus a Slytherin good enough to be friends with any other house?

But wait a second;

Severus has always been an out cast, he's at the bottom of school's social ladder; he's poor, not mainstream attractive, he has poor socialization.

He hardly managed to make friends with Lily only succeeding because he had something she wanted; Knowledge about the wizarding world.

Therefore when he joined Mulciber's group; he would have had to been at the bottom of the friend group, as a : go for/ yes man/ nerd that does their homework ect....in exchange for being in the group and possibly getting protection; IF they bothered too, which I doubt they did seeing as no one in that group came guns a blazing to help him in SWM.

That friend group's power wasn't balanced, and if you've never been in a friend group that wasn't balanced then bless you.

When we talk about balance for the peoples that may not understand:

We have our leader: who may or may not be the glue of the group ei, the one who gathered the friends, or they could also just be the loudest, pushiest or just idk has more swag.

Example: James.

Then we have the second in command, the best friends of the leader, these people are the closest -- best friends, possibly has the ability to kind of influence the leader:

Example: Sirius

Then we have the third, close to the outside eye, best friends with the first two but everyone inside knows they aren't as close, if they were walking and one had to fall behind it would be this friend, if they ever stopped talking for a little, this friend would be first to go.

Example: Remus

And lastly we have the bottom of their social ladder, this friend is a follower, not a lot of say in the group, is lucky to be there and to be considered a friend, usually a yes man, a go for, or someone they exploit for their own personal gain, ie studying or help with assignments, or they could have poor social skills but have a rich background and is easy to manipulate. They are in this group for more protection or power of numbers. They need the group more than the group needs them.

Example: Peter & Severus

Originally I made this post to ponder any friends Severus might have had -- but in a environment that already is hostile to Slytherins, would any Slytherin on the same social standing had been his friend?

I mean he already pissed off the biggest bullies in their year so anyone on a similar social standing might not want to be friends with him out of fear of being more on James and co. raider than they already are, plus this is especially true for maybe another Slytherin -- (Slytherins stick together because of their bad rep. Professor's are no help usually.)

Any other Slytherin would be above him, and most likely not spare him the time of day.

Why would other houses help the weird kid with a huge target on his back?

And if magically he made friends, perfectly find friends who don't let Potter's bullying fly or any house's bulling fly and fight back. If they did manage to be Severus' friends, would Lily approve?

I mean, how do we know someone is a threat?

Don't we either learn through the grape vine or our own eyes?

Well, other houses are side eyeing Slytherin, for being death eaters -- so the muggleborns are sticking close together. Maybe even the houses are protecting their muggleborn friends in whatever way:

"Hey this one's family is a death eater..."

"That one's relative is a supporter..."

"Stay away from them."

I mean we know James and co are on the lights side, so obviously, their actions and pranks are cool because they would never stoop to such a disgusting level.

Does that translate to :

If James and co. Don't approve of this person and are acting out against them ----

They are fight the good fight?

I mean, we do know Mulciber and Avery do become deatheaters.

But -- we don't hear anything about James and co fighting them. We hear Lily being weary of them.

is any Slytherin a good enough friend, for Severus and is Severus a Slytherin good enough to be friends with any other house?

Unimportant to the post:

Looking at Harry 's own friend group with Ron and Hermione. I meant to talk about a balance in friend groups, but I just realized you might think Harry is the leader, which is was at a point since Ron and Hermione didn't get along at the start.

But in truth Ron is the glue, while Harry has the leader status.

That's all, this post is long enough.

[thecircularlibrary]

helooooo

i love your writing!!

can u pls do a lyrason as parents one shot?

tyyy

aw thank you <3 here you go!!!!

oh darling don't you ever grow up

Grayson x Lyra

warnings: n/a

words: 1135

border credit: @strangergraphics-archive

Gianna Annelise Hawthorne was the most beautiful thing Grayson had ever laid eyes on. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the feeling of holding his daughter for the first time. Lyra was looking up at him, and no matter how much other people might say she was a mess, to him, she was glowing. He looked into Gianna’s brown eyes and he saw nothing but her mother in them, in every single way that mattered. Her tiny hand grabbed his finger and he lifted it and kissed it, promising her that he’d be there. Promising her that he’d care, that she’d never have to feel what he and his brothers had felt.

Lyra’s mom told the nurse to open the door and let in Grayson’s family. The sudden cacophony of sounds that entered the serene room should’ve been something Grayson anticipated, but he didn’t. Gigi, Avery, and Savannah went to Lyra’s side as his brothers went to his. Nash was the first to hold her. Jameson was the first to cry.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“Sweetheart, you can sit on the counter while I make breakfast, but if you do, it has to be over there,” Grayson pointed to the actual counter, not the island where Gia had been seated 3 minutes ago. He was making waffles; past-tense. Present-tense, Grayson was covered in flour. His five-year-old daughter was giggling as he picked her up and moved her. 

“Grayson, have you seen my—Oh!” Lyra covered her face in a laugh before walking over to Gia. 

“Gia…what did you do?” Lyra was giggling the exact same laugh as their daughter. Meanwhile, Grayson was still covered in flour. He looked at her, completely deadpan.

“Oh, is something funny?”

Lyra covered her face with her hand, but Grayson could still see a smile in her eyes.

“Nope. Nothing funny here. In fact, this is very serious and I think it calls for an emergency DoorDash order,” Lyra was fighting to keep a straight face in her jeans and graphic tee—the pro of working as a Google software engineer was that she could dress functionally without needing to dress seriously. Grayson had to remind himself to stop thinking about her clothes by looking at the half-mixed waffle batter (which they no longer had enough flour to finish) and then looking at his daughter.

“Yes it does. In fact, it sounds like an emergency IHOP order. For two,” Grayson raised his eyebrows at his wife who was still trying to keep a straight face. They both avoided looking at their daughter who had gasped at Grayson’s words.

“Daddy, I want waffles too,” she said quietly. She was a very soft-spoken child and she rarely yelled. The softness of the statement made his heart melt. Even though Lyra was usually the first to cave, Grayson lost this battle.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“You aren’t wearing that.”

When Grayson was old enough to have kids, he had told himself that he would just let them make their own decisions about what they wore to school. Especially because he already knew he was going to put them in Heights Country Day as soon as they were old enough (the ninth grade). And he really wanted to stand by that decision.

Until his daughter tried to go to her first day of eighth grade in a mini skirt. A Lululemon mini skirt. 

“But Dad, I have tennis after school today and it’s literally a tennis skirt. It saves me so much time if I don’t have to change,” said Gia. She looked exasperated and tired of her father.

“You also have ballet after school some days but I don’t see you wearing a leotard and tights to school on those days, now do I?” This time, it was Lyra that had spoken. “I’ve had long conversations with you about what you can wear to school versus what you should wear to school and I want you to guess where this one falls.”

“Ugh.”

“Answer, Gianna Annelise.”

“Under what I can and not what I should…” Gianna sighed.

“Exactly,” Grayson said. Before he could continue, Lyra shot him a look.

“Please change, Gia,” Lyra pleaded.

“Okay Mom.” Gia walked back upstairs and to her room.

“Mom? I’m the one who told her to change?” Grayson stood confused by the stairs.

“Girls tend to listen to their moms, Gray. It’s nothing personal, I promise,” Lyra said as she patted his cheek and went outside to start the car. He shook his head and questioned how he got lucky enough to have a daughter that was exactly like his wife.

✠⚞☀⚟✠

“Dad! I’m gonna be late if we don’t hurry! I have to get to the tryout clinic early so I can learn the routine early so I can teach it so they can consider me for captain!” Gianna was standing by the door in cheer shorts and a shirt, ready for her junior year cheer tryouts. Grayson was still getting his shoes on.

“I’ll be right there, Gia, it’ll be alright. You’re the best one there so I’m sure they’ll pick you anyways.”

“Thank you, Dad, but that isn’t true. Besides, even if it was, that’s not enough. I need to show leadership and commitment. And I can’t do that if I’m late!” Gianna lost her soft-spoken nature when she got older.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready, let’s go,” Grayson grabbed his keys and went to leave.

“Wait, Dad!”

Grayson whipped around.

“Yes, Gia?”

Gianna grinned.

“Can I drive?”

✠⚞☀⚟✠

Years later, when Grayson was making a senior video for Gianna’s final cheer banquet, he remembered her tiny hands on the day she was born. He remembered her curly hair that bounced as he moved her from counter to counter when he tried to make breakfast in the morning. He remembered her personality growing more and more like her mothers as she grew up. He also remembered things like her joy the first time she did a tumbling pass. Her face when she was fitted for her first pair of pointe shoes. The grin she had when she won her first doubles match. 

He remembered Gianna’s first homecoming and how her cousin Hannah had insisted on Lyra and Avery making them mums. He remembered, specifically, Lyra’s struggle and the way it had been worth it when he and Jameson got to take pictures of their daughters next to each other at their last homecoming. This time, Grayson cried first. 

When she cheered her last football game. When she danced her last Nutcracker with her ballet company. When she played her last doubles match, and won. These memories and their subsequent tears tore through Grayson’s mind. All of Gianna’s lasts. All the things she wouldn’t experience again.

So when he finished the slideshow and needed to pick a song, he knew exactly which one to pick.

[xo-zozo]

ok ok that jameson social media hcs post was so good so can I request the rest of the hawthorne brothers on social media :)

aww tysm!! ofc

tags | @flowers-for-em @nqds @sophiesonlinediary @reminiscentreader @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle @lyrakanefanatic @x-liv25-jamieswife @clarissaweasley-10 @zoyaaaabear @off-to-the-r4ces

grayson 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

he definitely dosent post/go on social media as much as jameson or xander

the few times he does post it’s either for a birthday or for things that are happening with the foundation and the grandest game

occasionally he does lyra though (you’re welcome i mentioned her)

says that only has instagram and no other socials (that he uses) but he secretly has a pinterest account that only max knows out about somehow

although he dosent post that much he definitely comments things on his brothers posts about how low key stupid they are

another kind of thing he would post would be his photography (which by the way did we just come up with this because i don’t remember this being mentioned in the books i’m just going for it)

he posts avery and jameson’s wedding photos because he was the one who took some of them

along with those cute photos he posts weird photos of jameson as a kid in honor of him getting married

everytime he posts there’s always people in his comments asking him to get a snapchat

his posts usually don’t have captions for some reason unless it’s really important

xander 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

like jameson, he posts a lot more on his socials than jameson and nash

he has it all too (instagram, twitter, tiktok, snapchat, etc) AND somehow manages to stay active on it

on his stories he posts about random nerd stuff that nobody really cares about still watches because he’s a cutie patootie

he posts all of the gifts that he gives max because it’s like what he’s most proud of

makes an instagram post for every single occasion (birthdays, holidays, trips, etc)

somehow manages to reply to most of the comments on his posts (he dosent get out much)

whenever he posts max, he’s required to her parents accounts just because they said so (idek it just makes sense)

he’ll randomly post a pic of him watching some super popular youtuber and people will go insane

goes to instagram to ask for advice, movie recs, books recs, etc but never ends up taking the advice

if people ask to take photos with him and post it, he reposts it because he’s just so nice

genuinely responds to gossip videos about him and like half of the times he forgets to deny it

sometimes he sees these videos about his brothers or avery and he goes and like actually asks them if it’s true “just to make sure”

nash 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

i feel like he would be a lot like grayson and only post on big events

but unlike grayson, when these events come around his posts are always extravagant

he writes super long captions for libby’s and avery’s and his brothers birthdays and everyone thinks it’s really sweet

sometimes people just notice the fact that he’s liked some videos online and it becomes a meme or something

will literally never comment on things online because he doesn’t wanna start problems

unless someone says something about his loved ones then he’s getting into a whole online bettle with them

sometimes libby is the one posting on his account and he dosent even take down the things that she posts

he definitely has a tumblr account as a teenager and he’s mentioned it in interviews but no one has found it yet

and yet again, somehow max is the only one who knows the username

he definitely posted for mr and mrs laughlin’s anniversary and made everyone else do it just for the cause

the wedding post of him and libby was extraordinary on his account

[idontplaytrack]

can you do another one with regina’s sister X janis. Them and cady all kind of just have a cute night in and we can see the dynamics between the various pairs!

Sugar cookies & horror movies

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+Cadina)

Warnings: coarse language, fluff, mentions of sex, Regina and reader quarrel

Halloween weekend! The gang’s all here for a movie night

Hearing the knocks on the door, Janis scurries to go answer it. “Gretchen! Hey.” Janis stood to the side to let her enter. “Hi, Karen.”

"Hi, Janis!" The dark-haired girl chuckled, "Happy Halloween!"

"Happy Halloween." Janis forced a smile, then her gaze panned over to Gretchen, who was holding onto a box. "Ooh, what's that?”

"I made everyone some cookies." She beamed, setting the box down on the coffee table. "Nice." Janis shrugged, "Thanks."

You peered at the box, excited. "Can I take a look?"

"Of course!" She opened it up, revealing a bunch of Halloween themed sugar cookies.

You gasped, "Oh, my God. These are so adorable, Gretchen!"

Gretchen smiled brightly, "Aw, thank you. I'm glad you like 'em. Help yourself." She sits down, Karen does the same. Janis returns to the dining table to work on an art piece. "It's about to get a little cramped here tonight. We don't have a lotta space for seven."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's not bad at all." Gretchen assured., grabbing a cookie from the box. You surveyed your options before grabbing one yourself.

‘Oh, these are too cute to eat…’ You thought to yourself.

“Hey, you.” You heard your sister’s voice, which pulled you out of your thoughts. Then, Cady’s. You didn’t respond though.

“How you doing?” She asks, you blink profusely, looking at her puzzled.

“Yes, you.” Regina bites back a laugh, “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I just saw you two days ago.”

“And?” She asks in her usual fashion, “Nothing happened in the two days you were here?”

“Nothing.” You answered with a shrug.

Her gaze then panned over to the cookies, “Well, these are so fucking cute.”

“Made them for us to share.” Gretchen told her with a small smile.

Your sister returned the smile and said, “Well, they look amazing. Thanks, Gretchen.”

It shocked you, and Janis. Well, okay, it shocked everyone. Janis’ paintbrushes fell to the floor with a clatter upon hearing that, that’s how you knew. You nearly stared at your sister in shock.

“Avery.” The guy with him, introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Avery.”

“Sorry I'm late, y'all.” Damian says, “Brought some drinks to make up for that.”

By now, everyone was looking at you, standing next to Damian and Avery. Noticing their gazes all being on the three of you, you froze. Janis had to drag you back to the couch. She sits down first though, then you sat in her lap.

A gasp, from Gretchen, “Aah! is this the guy you’ve been talking about?”

“Yes, this is Avery.” Damian introduces him and sat down on the floor, a

Avery followed suit.

“Okay, let’s begin the movie marathon.” Janis declared, “Who wants to pick the first one?”

“Uh, how about we each name one and whichever gets the most votes, we watch that one?” Cady suggests.

————

Well, Train to Busan won that round. You’ve seen it before so you knew what to expect, but you were still scared. You could watch horror movies, but you shouldn’t. And it wasn’t your favourite genre, too so there’s that. You shared the couch with Regina and Cady. Damian and Avery were on the floor while Karen and Gretchen have moved to the armchair. While you were curled up in Janis’ lap, you had your head nuzzled in her neck in some scenes to avoid looking at them. And then…you felt a hand reach over to your back to tickle you. Obviously startled, you screamed and your head whipped around to see Regina looking at you with a smug look on her face. “Fuck! Stop that!”

Janis bites back a sigh, displeased with your older sister’s antic. Rubbing your back comfortingly, she pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Ugh, you two are so cute together, it’s annoying.”

“Really?” You snarked, “This is annoying? You wanna talk annoying? That would be you— two days ago. When you said you wouldn’t be home all day but you ended up being home, knocking my damn door down. I thought it was mom! But no, we made one noise, it was like you retaliated by going louder like it was a damn competition. What the hell was that about? Why did you have to knock? You scared the shit out of me, you could’ve just left us alone. You wanted me to shut up? Fine, tell us to keep it down but when you were doing exactly the same thing we were, you really shouldn’t have pulled that crap, Reg.”

“It wasn’t— okay, you wanna know, you ask her what she was doing to me.”

“Stop.” You huffed, “I already know too much about what you two do to each other. I cannot believe you did that, it was so stupid. Childish. What’s the big deal anyway? We’ve been together forever.”

Cady facepalmed, “y/n, I’m so sorry. I told her not to do that, I told her not to disturb you two.”

“Should we just stop the movie completely at this point?” Gretchen interjected.

Regina took a deep breath and said, “You’re right. That was really stupid and childish. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, your anger calming down significantly. That’s all you wanted, an honest, sincere apology. Which she didn’t give in the first place— she just laughed it off.

Cady offers you her bag of Skittles. You grabbed a handful. “Thanks.” You gave her a crooked smiled. “Can I have one?” Janis asked. You held your hand closer to her and she grabs a few pieces, popping them in her mouth. “Thanks, lovey.” She says, chewing the candy.

The rest of the evening went by without a hitch. But by the middle of the third movie, you were done with watching horror and decided to leave the garage for a bit to walk and stretch your legs.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, Reg?”

“You okay?” She asks softly.

“Yes.” You turned around to look at her.

“I thought it’d do that to mess with you, but it was terrible way to do so. And, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Just don’t do that again and that’s a good enough apology.” You told her.

“Swear.” She held out her pinkie, you hooked yours with hers. “Holding you to that.”

“You sure you wanna be out here alone?”

“Reg.” You sigh, “You know I’m scared, please don’t mess with me that way too.”

“Sorry. Bad habit.” Regina gives you a sheepish grin, pulling you in for a hug, “Wanna go back inside? I’m sure Janis will change the movies for you in a heartbeat.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

This one took way longer that I wanted to, drafts haven’t been saving right so I had to rewrite most of this fic. Also probably shorter than what I originally wrote but I can’t remember, I’m sorry.😭 hope you enjoyed :’)

[inmyheaddd]

averyjameson headcanons

thankyou sm for the request! averyjameson my babies 😕 wc: 600 masterlist

whenever jameson sees avery reading a book, he asks her to read to him. he’s barely even interested in the book, he just loves hearing her talk. 

avery’s favorite moments are those small, intimate ones that might not look like a lot to anyone else but mean the world to her. 

jameson loves any moment with avery, simply because he’s with her. he wonders how he pulled her at least once a week.

they rarely get into fights, but when they do, it’s mainly because one of them isn’t talking about their feelings, bottling up emotions, or overworking themselves.

jameson is almost always the first to apologize though, no matter what. 

he’ll cut himself off in an argument, apologize and take avery’s face in his hands.

she would feel like crying, if she wasn’t already, whenever he does this.

he’d bring her into a hug, and they’d mutter something along the lines of: 

“i hated that so much, im sorry” 

“i know, heiress, me too.”

they have a “never go to bed mad” rule.

jameson is obsessed with the smell of avery’s hair products.

whenever they cuddle and she’s in the crook of his neck, he’s kissing her head a million times. 

in the early stages of their relationship, neither of them wanted to be too clingy in fear of the other one getting annoyed. 

they soon realized they were equally as enamored and obsessed with each other.

when they used to go to bed ‘not cuddling’, a week or so into their relationship, they’d wake up entangled in one another, arms wrapped around each other.

ever since then they’ve had a silent mutual agreement to fall asleep in each others arms.

avery usually wakes up first, and then watches jameson for a minute with total heart eyes. then she pretends to go back to sleep, basking in the peaceful moments for a little while longer.

then jameson would wake up, and smile because he just knows avery is awake, then he also pretends to go back to bed.

they’re just two lovesick fools in each others arms, pretending to sleep, with the giddiest smiles on their faces.

avery does her whole morning routine while jameson does his — brushing his teeth and talking her ears off. 

they also play music and scream sing together and act out the lyrics as they go. (they do this with style 100%)

to say he’s obsessed with her eye masks is an understatement.

they always do matching face masks together, eat baked goodies (libby’s half the time) and have movie nights.

jameson loves kissing avery in the middle of her talking. she always gets so flustered and caught off guard, and even stumbles over her words. 

“i’m- oh, you — what was i saying?”

now she’s the one pulling him in for a kiss, and she can feel him smiling against her lips.

jameson loves it when she grabs on his shirt, pulling him closer when they kiss.

he’s always holding her face, there’s just something so intimate about it that he loves. 

even though he’s one for grand gestures and going all out on dates, sometimes a picnic in their backyard, picking flowers and berries, and stargazing with his soulmate is all he needs to make his heart happy.

avery loves talking to him about the constellations and stars, and he loves hearing about them.

he bought her a star, and any time they are apart for work, they call and look at it together.

at least that way, they are connected somehow, looking at the same sky, under the same stars.

[morgana-ren]

He seems to indulge them a little more than he would anyone else

He definitely sees them as something more than he should, whether he admits that to himself or not. He saves them on several occasions, tries to interfere if you get sent to hospital or prison. He gives more attention and care to PC than any other of his charges. So What do you think Bailey sees the PC as? What he views their relationship as?

(Bailey is definitely someone with a lot of power in this town, even the Mayor seems scared of him, theres absolutely something more going on with him than just main antagonist, hopefully they expand more on his character soon!)

At first, I was thinking because the PC is obviously the best money maker for them. A little cash cow under their control. It's in his best interest not to let people have their way with you for free, or know that they can get to you in any way that doesn't involve going through him first.

But in truth?

He protects you before that's really the case.

(Realistically, from the game dev's point of view, it's meant as a soft block to keep you from fucking up too badly and ending up somewhere you aren't prepared for and ruining your game before you're ready. I know that.)

When you're an S tier beauty with massive mommy milkers and a can that could make pringles jealous, it's understandable. You're his best little orphan. His prized product. He's got buyers coming through left and right vying for a piece of your ass, and he tells you as much constantly.

(Though... Avery will pay you a lot of money-- almost all of what you pay Bailey, and he does it willingly, so it's not out of the question to think that someone has offered Bailey more than he charges you, but he has turned it down for... one reason or another.)

But what about when you're just a cute little thing, barely big enough for your boots and getting your bearings? Not really sexy or even appealing yet-- just kind of benign and adorable. Sure, he extorts you, and he's a cruel, ruthless motherfucker, but by God, does he bear teeth trying to defend you.

And he gives you four chances. With Robin, it's one payment out, and he sells them off. With you? He's easy by comparison. You don't get off scott free by any means, but he doesn't just sell you to the dock workers.

He openly admits attraction to you when you fuck him, and not just recently either. Straight up admits it.

"You were always the best looking little bitch."

He's not saying you're the best looking little bitch now that you're impaled on his cock, or even recently, but that he's always noticed your allure. On some level, he's always been aware of his attraction.

Implies possession. Like this is something he's thought about and contemplated. Like he's always claimed it, and known that it was always his to begin with. Like it was only a matter of time.

Not something a typical caretaker usually does, me thinks.

Did I, Bailey? Or did you? Was this inevitable to some degree? Cause it seems like it's been weighing on your mind for a while. Seems like you're trying to convince me— or yourself— that this wasn't your choice. That it was mine.

Want me to remember you fondly? Or with pleasure? Or knowing that the first time was yours and there was never any question or choice, and that I will always belong to you, no matter where I end up?

I think it's a lot more complicated than he lets on— and he hates it.

Obviously they can't have you seducing the main antagonist or else you'd lose the drive of the game. Bailey is the thing that keeps you working and grinding and playing. Having him soften and open his heart would fuck that unless it was replaced with something else.

But in my mind? Bailey is watching and waiting. Repressed and about to burst. A few careful, tactful actions like you've done before and it might unlock something you're not entirely ready for.

His love wouldn't be soft, or even pretend to be sophisticated like Avery. It's fierce and hateful, with hands that bruise and teeth that bite and chains that constrict. You ruined him, and he'll ruin you in return. If he can't bear to let you go, he'll extract value from you himself.

(let me dream, Vrel, let me dream.)

[luveline]

is it too late to request a Father’s Day request for kbd steve?🥹

KBD —Steve starts his Father’s Day. mom!reader, 1k

“What does that mean?” 

Steve leans back, baby toothbrush in hand, baby toothpaste dripping down Dove’s chin. “What does what mean?” 

“Father’s Day.” She licks her lip. 

“Dove, don’t eat it.” He rinses her toothbrush and beckons her carefully on her stepping stool to the sink. “Come spit, honey.” 

Dove spits her toothpaste. Steve grins, leaning over her, turning on the faucet and grabbing a handful of warm water to wipe her face. She spits again into his hand, but he’s unphased, wiping her down and turning off the water. 

She turns expectedly for a towel. Steve brings it to her face and dabs her dry gently. “Father’s Day just means a day for dad’s.” 

“Day to do what?” 

“It’s sort of like a birthday. Like, a day for children to show they love their daddy’s.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “So if you really love me, Dove, today’s the day to show it.” 

Her lashes kiss her eyebrows as her eyes widen. “Today?” 

“It’s today, yeah.” 

Steve looks down on her, his little baby with her mom’s surprised face and his everything else, give or take. She’s getting so smart, but she’s still so small, Steve can pick her up like a couple of cans of tinned pears. She’s never heavy, just whiny. She looks up at him and he can see a few cogs still turning. 

“Babe,” he says, holding her face softly, “it’s not a big deal. Every day we spend together is a good day, so you don’t have to worry. I love my girl, I love all my girls, and I’m just excited for mom’s big breakfast.” 

“I love you, too,” she says seriously. 

He smooths the temporary wrinkle from between her eyebrows. “I love you more. Are we all done in the bathroom? Do you need to pee before we go have breakfast?” 

She doesn’t need a pee. Dove offers her hand and he takes it, helping her down from the stool, and guiding her out of the bathroom back to the master bedroom. You’re sitting on the made bed with Wren laying down beside you, freshly changed and dressed for what feels like the millionth time. 

“Hey. Did you brush?” you ask him. 

“We both brushed, duh.” Steve leans down behind Dove to frame her shoulders proudly. “Show mom your pearly whites, baby.” 

Dove beams. You pick Wren up and prop her, smiling and quiet, on your knee to see Dove’s teeth. “Woah, look at that, Wren. Look at Dove’s clean teeth, aren’t they perfect?” 

Wren gurgles with a distinct sense of sisterly love. Wren and Dove get along well, all the girls do, but Steve believes there’s been a faction forming between Beth and Avery, so he’s glad for Dove’s fondness as she steps away from him to try and give the baby a hug. Wren doesn’t know enough to hug back yet, but you do. 

“Come on, let’s go have breakfast,” Steve says, sparing a glance behind you for the spoils of Father’s Day. There are some clothes, some candies, and a favourite tray of crafts made through teamwork for Steve to display at his discretion. He couldn’t be any luckier. 

You’re smiling too as you follow him out of the bedroom. You usually are, to be fair to you, you’ve always smiled around Steve because you’re both remarkable idiots in love with one another after everything, because of everything. Steve can’t believe he gets to be in one of those marriages that get stronger each year, and occasionally you return the sentiment aloud, whispering something kind in his ear when you’re both almost sleeping. They don’t have a word for how much I love you, H. 

He catches you for a quick kiss pressed to your cheek as you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Oh, thanks,” you mumble, rubbing your cheek against your shoulder in a mock demureness that actually makes his heart skip a beat. If he does it enough times, your faking it will become real. 

He kisses you again. “Beautiful,” he says. 

“Thanks,” you say again, your tone tipping into shyness, just a touch. 

“I’m beautiful,” Dove says. 

She paws at Steve’s leg. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, ushering her forward to make room for everyone to keep walking. “Dove, I think you’re the most beautiful three nearly four year old in the whole wide world.” 

“Am I the most beautiful…” Bethie pauses, standing on a chair at the table, her nightie creased but her hair done and out of her face. “How old am I?” she asks. 

“Six!” Steve says. “You don’t remember how old you are?” 

“I forgot.” She frowns, and then she shakes it off. “Daddy, we’re setting the table.” 

“And you’re doing such a good job!” He turns his head one way and the other, searching their tired kitchen for his eldest girl. “Avery, where’d you go?” he asks. 

She pops up in front of him with a roar. “Got you!” she declares, wrapping her arms around his legs. 

“You think so?” He grabs her under the arms and lifts her. She’s much heavier than the rest of her sisters, but she’s his big girl, so of course she is. Steve isn’t too old as to carry her yet, letting her torso fall forward, her back to his chest as he hangs her upside down. 

She bursts into terrified laughter. “Dad, put me down! You’re dropping me!” 

“How many times do we have to go over this, Ave? I have never dropped you. I will never drop you.” He chuckles nonchalantly. “Looks like I’m the one that got you.” 

“You’re not funny, dad!” 

“I’m very funny.” He manages to get her the right way round again, and puckers his lips for a kiss. She doesn’t kiss him. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day. You can’t be mad at me ‘cos that’s illegal.” 

“You’re illegal.” 

“Just one little kiss?” he asks softly. 

“You have to!” Dove says, attempting to climb onto the chair with Beth, your hand behind her back. “Avery, it’s Father’s Day.” 

“I know, Dove, he just said that!” 

Still, Steve gets his kisses and a good hug, too. He lets his voice go all melty and corny as he rubs his nose into her cheek, “Thanks, my little nugget. You give the best kiss in the world.” 

“I am not a nugget.” 

“Are you sure? How do we check?” 

You put the baby in her padded high chair, convince Dove and Beth that they’ll be happier sitting in their own chairs on their booster pillows, and then slide behind Steve and Avery to push at them. “Come on, I’m making breakfast.” 

“What are we having?” Steve asks, smiling over Avery’s shoulder as she nuzzles her face against his neck. She used to fit in one arm, but he doesn’t mind wrapping both of them around her as he sits down, his long girl tight to his chest. 

“Everything,” you promise. “The whole works for my guy.” 

“Whole works,” he says, kissing the top of Avery’s ear. “Can you believe that?” 

[riddles-n-games]

If you read my little anecdote about Avery and Jameson being the magician and illusionist duo in So It Goes…, I was thinking as one usually does and now I got a related headcanon.

Jameson and Avery have a little girl as their first (her name is Hannah, duh) and as a baby, she would very easily get separation anxiety. Avery was also susceptible to it and she would get very emotional, no matter how much she hated it but her husband helped her get through it. At times, Jameson was the only parent around and when their baby would get fussy or distressed, he would do card tricks and other magic gimmicks to distract her. Hannah became entranced and quite literally that became one of Jameson’s trademark go-to “tricks up his sleeve” to calm her down until Avery could attend to her again. 

It encouraged him to learn more fun tricks, taking inspo from Ant-Man, he made it a hobby of his and as his daughter grew, he made road trips, lounge waiting, and bedtime stories and games so much more fun. Eventually, he started also teaching her simple ones which she did in front of her preschool friends. Let’s just say he was very proud of his work. Too proud.

[undeaddollz]

patrick hockstetter analysis hi, i realize there was spelling mistakes on my henry bowers one but i'm really too lazy to go over it all and fix em so if theres some on here too then ignore it! don't come at me for the hypothetical disorders i'm saying patrick may have, i do believe he probably is on the spectrum somehow and i will not listen to anyone who says otherwise.

patrick is SO INTERESTING, the disorders that i suspect he has is possibly CIPA as he doesnt show much reaction to pain and possibly some sort of BPD or autism but im more sure of CIPA. but it's confirmed for him to have solipsism he doesnt think other people or things are real, the reason he killed his little brother avery is because he felt avery was real and his parents were taking attention away from him. he doesnt like deviating from his schedule, he expects dinner to be at the same time, parents to be in bed at a certain time every day but the baby took away from that and so he suffocated avery to death. i believe he also has a sort of god complex as he thinks he decides what happens in the world. he doesnt think him harming people and animals matters because they aren't real anyways and meerly toys for him so he doesnt get bored. we don't get a lot of background on patrick let alone his parents but the movie gives us jack-shit about him. he's obviously a pyromaniac and doesnt seem to have any reaction to pain, laughing when henry hurts him after patrick sexually assaults him. he has a sort of psychosis, he doesn't love anyone besides himself but its not in a narcissistic way. he doesnt really have attachments to anyone, his family could die and he'd just be worried about whats for dinner. he'd only be upset cause it ruins his schedule. He would be upset if bowers gang died but simply because they bring him entertainment and its someone to bully kids with. I feel he probably was subjected to some sort of trauma when he was younger, possibly sexual or some form of neglect. people arent usually born acting how patrick does and all the adults shown in derry seem to be abusive or neglectful. his favorite past time is to torture kids and animals, he enjoys taking their lives, he has a fridge full of tortured animal corpses, mainly cats. since the fridge is his favorite thing it gets used as a factor of his demise, after sexually assaulting henry he goes to his fridge and is killed by pennywise. he loves to spend time at the barrens/junkyard since thats where a lot of the violence happens, those places being frequent bowers gang hang out spots. Bowers gang is scared of him, most adults are too. theres rumors floating around of patricks hobbies so people often let him do whatever he wants as to not agitate him. I dont know if victor and belch exactly know about the fridge as its a little hidden away in the junkyard but henry knows, when patrick teases henry for "letting him" sexually assault him henry shouts "if you fucking tell anyone about this im telling everyone about your fridge and you'll be taken away" or something similar. Henry keeps him around since 1, hes deeply scared of patrick and doesnt want to anger him 2, he also finds ways to entertain henry, helping him blow off steam from the abuse at home on other kids and sometimes animals. henry seems to be a big fan of animals but when he starts to go crazy after patrick dies he shows similarities to patricks behavior, growing violent with dogs and cats and being more murder-driven with his bullying. patrick seems kind of obsessed with henry but it could just be finding henry useful or a good source of entertainment and he can torture henry to end up getting what he wants. patrick is only fueled by his own selfish desires, he has no exact motivation for doing anything, other than him deciding he wants to. psychosis can be drawn out by not sleeping sometimes and maybe patrick could suffer from hallucinations, in the movie it seems he's scared of what he's killed coming back to life but honestly i dont think thats really accurate as i dont think that is something he would think about and he already feels no guilt about it so i think it was just the movie being stupid again. so if he does have hallucinations i think he would be indifferent to them, maybe only being annoyed they arent always at the same time every day.

[bullet-prooflove]

4000 Followers: Barcelona - Matthew Keller x Reader

Tagging: @rosielou94 d @kmc1989@toheavenwmydrms@noxytopy

Companion piece to:

5 Times - Keller almost tells you he loves you.

Three Minutes - It takes three minutes for Matt Keller to lose his humanity.

Transactional - In the wake of your injury, you leave Keller a Dear John letter.

It takes a couple of months for Matt to track you down. You’ve rented an apartment in Barcelona, near the town centre because your working a legal gig for the Picasso Museum. Your business has been flourishing in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve bounced from Frankfurt, Vienna, Milian and now to here. Matt’s always been a few steps behind you, he’s missed you by twelve hours back in Italy.

Matt has never done this before. He doesn’t chase after women, he’s usually the one that does the leaving. The fact he wants to follow you, it speaks volumes.

When you enter the apartment he’s sitting on your couch flicking through a Spanish fashion magazine, his brow furrowed. He sets it down on the coffee table as you close the door behind you.

"I'm not giving you security details for the museum." You tell him drifting towards your desk to check your laptop. To your surprise it looks untouched.  

"You know that's not why I'm here." He says as he raises to his feet and approaches the desk. His fingertips caress the tiny terracotta dog perched on the corner. It’s new, an unusual piece, not expensive but he knows it’s a sign, one that you’re planning to stay for a while.

“No I don’t.” You say distractedly as you close your laptop. “Because you don’t give me a reason behind anything you do, why you leave, why you stay, why you turn up in my place in Barcelona. I get nothing from you Matt.”

“Avery…” He says softly, his palm coming to rest upon yours and you pull away because his touch, it always leads to the same damn thing. “You know how fucked up I am.”

“Yea,” You tell him meeting his gaze. “It’s a good excuse to hide behind when shit gets too real isn’t it?”

This right here, this is why he loves you. You see through all of his bullshit, you call him on it. You are the first person who has ever bothered to scratch beneath the surface of his psyche. The only one that sees him.

“Avery.” He whispers, catching your hand. He squeezes it lightly and your fingers twitch underneath his touch. You don’t have much mobility in it anymore, Woodford saw to that. “Please just let me show you.”

“We’ve played this game before and we both know where it leads.” You say as you draw away, your hand slipping from his. It feels like a knife plunging into his chest but he gets it, your protecting yourself because he is not a safe bet, he never has been.

You watch as he removes his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans before he takes out a ticket stub and places it on the desk beside you.

“This is from the night we went to that art show in MOMA, you were wearing that dress, the blue one with the white flowers.” He murmurs as his hands come to rest on your hips. You tip your head up to look at him and for a moment he allows himself to hope, he prays that this is the time he can finally get the words out. “I remember because…”

…that was the day I fell in love with you.

But the words they just won’t leave his lips, they die in his throat as he cradles your face between his hands, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. He realises in that moment that it’s never going to happen. Those words they’re associated with so many terrible things in his life. There’s no pleasure in them, no joy, there’s just anguish and grief.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear sweetheart but I promise you I feel it.” Matt whispers against your lips. “I feel it with every fibre of my being."

“You should go.”  You tell him, your palm coming to rest upon his chest before you push him away lightly. “You’re just going to break my heart all over again.”

You twist away from him then, because your eyes are stinging and you don’t want him to see that weakness in you.

“Avery.” He rasps and sigh as you turn back towards him.

“Matt look…” You trail off because the last thing you expect to see is Matthew Keller on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

You recognise the ring, Alexandrite with an accent marquise cut, set between two diamond leaf clusters in a rose gold band. You’d been devastated when you’d had to sell it to pay Matt’s legal bills but you’d owed him, because he’d killed a man for you, saved you from something worse than death.

There’s a lot of history attached to that ring. It had been taken from your family in the late 1930s along with the rest of their belongings before they’d been shipped off to a concentration camp in Germany. Out of the four family members that went in only one came out, your Grandmother. That ring was the only memory she had had of her own family. It had been the first thing that you and Matt stolen together. It had been residing in a collection of stolen Jewish artwork, along with other Nazi memorabilia. The other shit that man had had in his collection…

You’d burned that place to the fucking ground afterwards.

“I hate shit like this.” Matt had told you after you’d deposited the three stolen pieces of artwork you’d managed to rescue inside Peter Burke’s porch. He’d find it in the morning, get it back to the place it belonged to.

“All she wanted is to see this ring one more time before she died.” You’d told him as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, looking at the circlet inside the tiny black box. “They took everything from her.”

“We did a good thing here tonight.” He’d told you as he’d walked you to your door that evening. “Consider this one on me.”

You’d taken him to bed for the first time that night.

And now he’s on one knee in front of you, with your Grandmother’s ring.

“I might not be able to say it.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “But sweetheart trust me when I say I feel it.”

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