#jennifer davenport

[nerds-yearbook]

In the "Stronger than Steele" episode of Remington Steele, which first aired on January 15, 1985, Laura Holt (Stephanie Zimbalist) confessed that she had based the values of Remington Steele (Pierce Brosnan) off of the comic book/TV hero Atomic Man played by Maxwell Donahue (Conrad Janis) that aired from 1961 - 1964 (that was narrated by Jackson Beck who in real life narrated things like G.I. Joe, Tom Corbett Space Cadet, The New Adventures of Superman, the Adventures of Batman, The Superman/Aquaman Hour of Adventure, The Adventures of Superboy, Steve Canyon and was the voice of Bluto in 1950s Popeye cartoons). It was also learned that Laura was a regular attender of Atomic Man conventions and even cosplayed as him. Donahue, who was forever typecast by the role, was upset that Hollywood was making a new version of Atomic Man without him and threatened the director Steven Spooner (Tom Harrison) during a press conference. Soon after, Laura was upset to hear that Donahue was being accused of murdering Spooner. The episode also saw the return of detective Jarvis (Gary Frank). Surprisingly, the annoying practice of tv shows cutting content for commercial space in syndication helped solve the case. ("Stronger than Steele" Remington Steele, TV Event)

[gambit-blogs]

Grayson Hawthorne

[clarissaweasley-10]

LibbyxNash in a nutshell;

Avery: Soo what's going on between you and Nash? Libby: w-what do you mean? ofc there isnt ANYTHING Nash: *in the background already picking out their kids' names ...there isnt?

[lyra-kane]

Guys It's 2025, and im still not over this.... I MEAN LOOK AT HIM!

[arias-archive]

can u write a one bed scene between Grayson and Lyra which takes place right after the scene where they kiss in tgg

a/n: Hiiii! Yes ofc! I’m so SO SO sorry it took so long but I wanted to make sure I got this as perfect as I could for all the anticipation it built :) (there was also another anon who asked for a graysonlyra fic so I hope this is okay!). I really hope I didn’t let anyone down and once again, thank u for waiting and supporting <3

this is set right after the graysonlyra kiss in tgg!

warnings: swearing, panic attck, kissing, slight tgg spoilers?

description: 12 hours until the next game and what a coincidence the asshole got locked out of his room

tig masterlist | masterlist

catch me if you can (a graysonlyra fic)

Lyra thought about the danger of touch. She thought about all the reasons she had not to do this. But as Grayson lowered his lips, Lyra rose up on her toes, tilted her head backward, moving like a dancer, needing this—and him.

Her long-held memory of that kiss gave way to this kiss. And this kiss was everything.

His tongue coaxed her lips to part, slipping inside, sinfully exploring every inch, ravishing her in a way she never had been before.

He wasn’t a gentle kisser, but he wasn’t rough either. This kiss was greedy and passionate and everything she needed. Her lips tingled with the memory of their first kiss, but that was practically a peck compared to this.

She knew this was foolish, kissing Grayson Davenport Hawthorne when she had every reason to hate him. She wanted to forget about that for a moment, letting the kiss deepen while her thoughts ebbed away- with nothing but him plaguing her mind.

As she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, she really didn’t want to stop. She felt like she was burning from the inside out and all she wanted was to burn with him.

They stood there, desperately fused together with the burning orange sunrise illuminating them. He held onto her waist, her chest pressed up against his in a way that made her want to get impossibly closer. He pulled away for a breath and her mouth instinctively followed him, pressing against his lips again.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, fused to each other but it was her who pulled away first, face flushed and breathless. But It was the sound of a couple of breaking branches that jolted her out of her fantasy.

She was still standing in the frame of his arms when they pulled apart, his fingers digging into the smallest part of her waist as if she could vanish at any moment. She whipped her head around, brown locks whipping her face as she searched for what could’ve possibly disturbed them. She saw nothing though.

Nothing except the charred ruins of the great mansion that one stood here, a skeletal frame bordering them. Nothing except the burnt remains of the papers containing her father's names scattering the ground.

She was surrounded by papers bearing her father’s name, someone had given her a ticket and it wasn’t the Hawthorne’s and Odette-

The realisation of what she’d been trying to actively avoid slammed into her like a truck.

And then the kiss just felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her lips burned with the intensity of it all, desperate to fall back into him but she couldn’t. She felt sick. She jumped back. Still high on the adrenaline from that kiss, she turned and ran.

Okay, maybe worse than just ran. She practically sprinted from the ruins, running towards the House, leaving the silver-eyed boy alone in the trees.

She heard him shout her name, she heard him sprint after her but she still ran. She was still reeling from everything that had taken place from last night to now. She was in shock that she ran away from the kiss without saying anything to him. What the hell was wrong with her?

She ran until everything hurt, and she was gasping for air. And then she ran some more. Her feet pounded against the dirt in time with her racing heart. But running was all she knew how to do at the moment. She needed to get away, from everything. She needed to think. To process everything and what would happen next.

She shouldn’t have kissed Grayson to push away those thoughts. And she shouldn’t have ran away after that. That was stupid. She didn’t want to use Grayson like that. Her heart ached at the thought of the asshole becoming a distraction for her. Something to use to solve the mystery of her father.

She might admit she cared about Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

She was still dressed in her beautiful masquerade ball dress, the frothy waves of her skirt swishing around her as she kicked up stones and twigs and leaves in her wake. These were the wrong shoes to run in, she thought, as she felt her feet throbbing painfully.

She was so close to the House, just had to push past the overwhelming desire to stop and breath, when she felt strong arms wrap around her, her feet dangling off the ground.

“What the fuck?’ She exploded incredulously, glaring down at the freaking asshole who was holding her captive. She thrashed her body against his hold like a fish out of water. She already felt exhausted from sprinting all that way, and she really needed a drink of water but she couldn’t stop wriggling in his hold. Who did he think he was?

“Why did you run?” Grayson huffed, grappling for calm. He had a vice-like grip around her body and she couldn’t help but be reminded of the chandelier task, her body arcing into his instinctively-

Nope. She wasn’t going there right now.

She stared at him in disbelief, tightening the unsteady grip she had around his shoulders to balance herself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?”

“You’re the one who ran after we kissed!” He defended astutely, “Did I do something-”

“Put me down,” she interrupted him sharply, aiming a swift kick towards whatever body part she could reach with her beautiful ballet flats.

He lowered her down gently, before she could actually connect her foot with its intended target, letting her stumble back a few steps. He stood there, waiting for an answer to his question. He didn’t repeat it though, just let her answer when she was ready.

She bent over double, hands on her knees as she grappled for air and trying to make sense of her own emotions.

He didn’t do anything wrong. She really liked that kiss and she really did want his help in finding out the truth about her father. But it was his family, his grandmother, that had something to do with this. She couldn’t do this, she just couldn’t.

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Lyra finally replied, her gaze baring into the ground. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his stony eyes. Afraid the see the judgement there.

“Then why did you run, Lyra?” His tone was calm, like he already knew everything but was waiting for confirmation. She hated that he always sounded so self-assured. She hated that she was so uncertain again.

Like she was remembering that birthday all over again.

Her entire world had been thrown off-kilter again, sending her mind battling for possibilities to make sense of this twisted joke. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly, eyes stuck to the ground in embarrassment. “This isn’t about the kiss. I just needed to think-“ She paused, unsure of how to explain why she actually ran when she wasn’t sure herself.

“If this is about your father,” Grayson said with unshakeable promise, “I vow I will help you find out what happened, Lyra. You have my word.”

Even just the mention of her father from somebody else’s mouth stung like acid. She nodded, her eyes still glued to the dirt floor as she straightened herself up.

Her unease still clung to her, her father’s names rattling around her head like gunfire. The coppery tang of gunpowder and blood coated her senses, preventing her from sucking in air.

Her vision blurred, her ears ringing like the aftermath of gunfire. She thought the situation could’ve gotten better now that she had the help of Grayson. She had someone on her team.

But she’d lived so long being the only person on her team that she couldn’t rely on someone else to help her. She didn’t know how.

Her sense of vision and hearing were impaired, her sense of smell clogged up by blood. But she hadn’t lost her control on touch. She leant into Grayson, digging her face into his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around her back and the back of her knees, lifting her up softly. She couldn’t hear the reassurances he was murmuring into her ear, but she could feel his comforting presence around her- reminding her that he was on her team from the start. Even though she didn’t want it.

She must’ve spaced out because next thing she knew, she was in her temporary room, fingers digging into the sheets beneath her, sobbing into Grayson Hawthorne.

Her sobs were ugly, ragged and breathless. She was just mumbling incoherent nonsense until Grayson shushed her.

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her and Lyra’s temper flared. Why did he think he could just silence her?

Her furious gaze snapped to his, glaring into the endless abyss of gray. His lips twitched as if he knew that would get her attention. That just made her angrier.

“You will stay here with me,” he murmured, her brain remembering the words from the panic attack she had earlier on. When he had first seen her vulnerable. “Right here. Right now, Lyra.”

She liked the way he said her name. The way it rolled off his tongue with precision and charm and surety. The way the syllables bounced off his tongue, as if he savoured the very words.

She focused on that, on him, on where she was. Here and now

“When I was 13,” he started, his gaze locked onto her panicked eyes, a calmness that she didn’t possess right now. “My brothers hid glitter on top of my bathroom fan, then proceeded to cover the entire bathroom in glue.”

She snorted, lips twitching in amusing at the thought of a clueless Grayson wandering inside her bathroom and being met with a sparkly surprise.

He lifted her palm to his chest, pressing it against his steadily beating heart. It was calm and orderly, just like Grayson. So she tried to match her breathing to its pace, syncing up the him.

“I turned on the fan,” he continued, rubbing his warm hands against her arms, grounding here to the here and now. “Obviously glitter exploded everywhere and stuck to everything.” He still sounded so bitter about it that she actually burst out laughing, in midst of her tears.

Grayson’s lips tilted upwards after listening to her laugh, unable to stop the quiet chuckles eliciting from his own mouth. Lyra focused in on his lips, they were fuller than they should be, and sinfully beautiful. The memory of his lips pressed against hers tingled painfully, aching for more.

Grayson tried his best to control his amusement as he schooled his features back into a bored expression. “That isn’t funny,” he huffed with an eye roll. “There’s still glitter in my bathroom.” 

She shook her head, her breaths slowing down, matching with his own calming pace. She pulled away from him, turning her face away as she dried her wet face. She was slightly embarrassed now. 

But before she could ever let that embarrassment fester, his fingers found the bottom of her chin, tilting it up towards his face. “Don’t do that,” he murmured with a small shake of his head. “I’m on your team, Lyra.”

“Do what?” She asked after she cleared her itchy throat, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“Put those walls back up.” There it was again. The way he said her name. Like it was a prayer, whispered over and over again. She liked hearing her name come out his mouth.  

She managed to drag her gaze away, eyeing the barely furnished room. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and just sleep for a bit, but she couldn’t. Not until she properly apologised.

She wasn’t good at apologising though. Especially not to assholes like him. The words caught in her throat, refusing to push past her lips. 

So she changed the subject with a breezy tone. “I liked the first story you told me,” she considered with a small scrunch of her nose. “The one about the cello and the kitten and the long sword.”

“And a crossbow,” he added. His hands never left her arms, soothing her even if she didn’t want to talk about it yet. 

“You have to tell me how that happened-“

“I will not.” He replied firmly. 

“Oh come on,”

They bickered and chatted for ages, Lyra slumped against Grayson’s shoulder as he just chatted on about whatever she wanted to hear next. His voice was grounding. It pushed away the sticky blood and the metallic tang of gunpowder and the burnt remains of those notes. 

Eventually, Grayson stood up, pulling two keys out of his pocket. “I should leave now,” he said, dusting imaginary dust off his vintage suit, tugging at the sleeves.

He handed one key to her, her own room key which he must’ve taken from the trays back downstairs. She held it firmly, letting the cool metal of the intricate designs press patterns into her skin. 

She wouldn’t beg him to stay, despite her wishes. It wasn’t in her nature to plead. She was fine now, better than fine. She was ready.

She nodded at his words, opening her mouth to apologise before he left but the words stuck to the roof of her mouth, heavy and weighted. He waited for her to speak but she couldn’t. She waved him off with a small smile, flopping back onto the bed. 

He turned to leave, casting one last glance at the dark haired girl before gently shutting the door behind him. She strained her ears to listen to his retreating footsteps until they faded completely.

She didn’t know how long she lay on the bed, simply staring at the ceiling contemplating everything until she heard a firm knock at her room. 

She furrowed her dark brows, sitting up with a yawn, hair cascading down her back. She needed sleep desperately.

“Who is it?” She called, stifling her yawn with her hand. 

“Grayson,” the smooth voice replied back, so quiet yet so loud all at once. “Can I come in?”

She nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see her so she called out, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

The door was pushed open as Grayson re-entered the room, walking with authority and power wherever he went. He shut the door behind her, arms crossed over his chest. 

She raised a questioning brow, signalling for him to talk about why he was here. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “It appears that our lovely game makers have locked me out of my room,” he said coolly, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Oh,” Lyra replied with pursed lips, biting the inside of her cheek. Only now did she notice he was keyless. 

She didn’t know what to say to him just standing there, basically asking for help even if he would never outright demand it. His way of relinquishing some control, she supposed. Dare she say even trust her a bit?

He had helped her, throughout the whole night and going forward. Hell, she was sobbing in his arms not too long ago. So before she could even stop the words from coming out her mouth, she said, “You can stay in here,” before hastily adding, “if you want.”

He assessed her and then the room, nodding once. “Only if you are sure.” His voice was monotone, but she felt the undertone of hesitation there too. It was almost comical to her.

She looked around the room, taking in the sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t a chair, or a couch, or even a rug for him to sit down on.

Only the bed. Where she too was planning to lay. But she couldn’t tell him to get out now. Not after kindly offering her room up. 

So she wordlessly shuffled to one side of the luxurious bed, pulling off her ballet flats and disposing them beside the bed. She lay down, still clad in her beautiful ball gown, waiting for him to do the same.

He paused, as if waiting for something. A moment later,, he bent down to take off his own shoes and lined them up neatly at the foot of the bed. He robotically lay down on the other side of the bed, facing the ceiling, stiff as a board. As if he were laying on a bed of nails.

She rolled her eyes and couldn’t resist teasing him. He looked like a grumpy cat. “Everything okay, Hawthorne?”

“Splendid,” came his bored reply, his eyes meticulously tracing the ceiling. 

“You look like you’re going to fall off the bed,” she stated, propping herself up into an elbow, nudging his shoulder with her other hand. “Move closer.”

He was quiet for so long Lyra wasn’t even sure he was going to reply but then he moved. Only slightly. The barest centimetre. 

Lyra rolled her eyes again, poking his shoulder harder. “Never slept in a bed with someone before?” 

His scowl only intensified, only adding to her own enjoyment. But he moved closer, albeit only slightly. She kept up her taunting and teasing until he was only a few inches away from her own position on the bed.

She lay back down properly, rolling over her other side to get comfy. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion and she was eager for sleep to take her. 

Just as she was about to drift off, she felt an arm drape over her midsection, clutching her closer to the warm chest pressed against her back. Her cheeks heated at the proximity. She could feel his heart racing, even through the layers. 

She stayed like a statue at first, unsure of what to do or how to react. But she meant what she thought earlier. She did like Grayson. And she wanted someone on her team. To be in her corner. 

So before she lost the nerve, she flipped around in his embrace and pressed a long, hard kiss to his lips, her tongue coaxing entrance to his mouth. 

Sparks ignited from the contact, their bodies creating an unholy inferno daring to be burned out. He pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss fully. 

Her fingers threaded through his blonde locks as his caressed her face, thumb rubbing her cheek softly. 

This kiss wasn’t like the first, or even second kiss. This one was better. As if they had never kissed before yet had kissed a hundred times before.

 It felt like two people dancing, moving simultaneously to the music only they could hear. It felt like a battle, each treading more deeper into greed.

This time it was her who pulled away for air first, his mouth following hers only to be stopped by her finger held against his lips, effectively stopping him.

She could see the protest flash through his eyes so she forced the words out her lips. So she could properly apologise, not the half-hearted explanation she gave earlier.

“I’m sorry for running, Grayson,” she whispered softly, her lips dewy with saliva. Her eyes bore into his eyes with sincerity, using her other hand to push hair away from his face. “It wasn’t about the kiss at all-“

He pushed her finger down impatiently, cutting off her apology with another kiss before pulling away. “You run, I run, Lyra.” 

She grinned, wrapping an arm around his body as she let her eyes flutter shut. And for the first time in a very long while, she had felt safer than she had ever felt.

“Catch me if you can, asshole.”

[lovemelikealovesong-33]

was scrolling through the tig tag anddd people here follow a ritual of calling Grayson a "rat''?? okay i need to make friends from this fandom asap

[jackstruelove]

Um why did i just moved from bootok to tumblr and i see that everyone here is calling grayson a rat? I'm confused...don't we like him??!

[jkriordanverse]

I need a The Naturals x Hawthorne truth or dare crossover so bad lmao

[averygrambsbankaccount]

Can you write a lyrason fic,they in the grayson's birthday please.

yes sure! I decided to combine this request with this one and also change it a bit (oops!)

(yes I know I did spin the bottle instead of drink or dare) (im sorry that it’s bad)

spin the bottle!

Lyra and Grayson weren’t exactly dating, at least not in a way that the definition of the word dating covered. They tiptoed around each-other, sneaking longing glances, and maybe one or two more stolen kisses. Or three.

If Lyra was honest, she’s a bit tired of the game. Maybe she does just want Grayson, the arrogant asshole he is, to be her actual…boyfriend.

Grayson’s birthday party wasn’t planned by him, which was obvious if you’d ever met him. His hatred of people would have never allowed something like this. Clearly, his brothers had planned this as some kind of cruel joke on him, and now he had to stand there like a puppet in his thousand dollar suit and greet everyone they invited to the party.

Honestly, Lyra was pretty happy about her invitation. The party was actually fun. She’d never been to a rich person party before, and it was certainly something else.

Maybe the most fun part, though, was watching Grayson stand there uncomfortably, his strong shoulders stiff and his back as straight as a ruler. He greeted the weird rich people who walked past him into the surrounding area, full of fairy lights and tables and food. Whoever had designed this backyard pool type party was a genius.

Lyra sat at a table by herself, sipping some weird rich people drink she assumed had alcohol in it but wasn’t entirely sure about, and she watched the blonde Hawthorne pretend to be a people person.

It’s funny how he tries to hide his awkwardness, she thought.

Someone slid into the seat across from her, and it was none other than the Hawthorne heiress, holding a champagne flute. Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders and she looked dazzling as ever.

“You should go over and talk to him, you know,” Avery said, looking down into the depths of her drink.

“And why would I do that?” Lyra crossed her arms and leaned back in the cushioned outdoor chair. Man, these things are comfortable.

“Because you like him. And he likes you. And this forced birthday party is a really good chance to make him less uptight.” The heiress took a sip of her champagne and wiggled her manicured eyebrows.

“No way,” Lyra picked at her nails. “…Do you really think so?”

It was no secret that Avery and Jameson and most other Hawthornes and Hawthorne adjacents shipped Grayson and Lyra, but Lyra wanted to hear confirmation from the girl sitting beside her.

“Totally!” Avery leaned forward. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”

Lyra bites her lip. “Yeah.” She says, but quiet enough that it’s possible Avery didn’t hear.

“Just…give it a shot, Lyra.” Avery stands and walk back towards Jameson, who’s talking to Xander by the pool.

Lyra takes a deep breath and one more drink of her maybe alcoholic drink and stands to walk towards the stoic blonde.

I can do this. I can do this. Lyra played encouraging messages on a loop in her brain.

“Grayson.”

“Lyra.” He turned to her, the barest of smiles on the corners of his lips, but that was often the best you could get out of Grayson Hawthorne.

“I-“ Lyra cut herself off, realizing she didn’t actually know what she was going to ask.

Her eyes scanned the area around them, landing on a group of younger attendees playing spin the bottle on the grass. Lyra wasn’t a particularly crazy party type person, but she did enjoy taking risks from time to time.

A smirk appeared on her face. “Come here, Grayson.” She grabbed his arm and led him over the group.

“Could we join, please?”

“Yeah, sure!” A girl in beautiful designer gown that was definitely getting grass stains at the moment said without looking up. When she did, she seemed absolutely shocked at the man standing with Lyra. “And…him, too?”

Lyra couldn’t blame her; no one would expect Grayson Hawthorne to play spin the bottle.

“No, no.” Grayson backed away shaking his head. “Sorry. There must have been a misunderstanding.” He gave Lyra a glare.

“Sorry, he’s shy.” Lyra smiled sweetly at them, then turned to Grayson.

“Could you please, please, please, please play?” She put her best puppy dog eyes, the ones she had only ever used on her mom for extra dessert. “For me?”

She didn’t give him a choice or a chance to respond. She simply dragged him to the ground beside her, in the empty space left in the circle and said “We’re playing.”

If Lyra could have taken a picture of Grayson’s surprised face in that moment, she would’ve framed it and hung it on her wall.

She gripped onto his hand as tight as she could, her knuckles going white. She would not back down, she’s gone too far. If she doesn’t commit, she’ll be just as much of a coward as she was before Avery convinced her.

Grayson kept trying to pull away, but she refused to give in.

The bottle was spun in the middle of the big circle. It landed on two random people, two more random people, and then…Lyra.

Her breathing sped up. I did not think this through, did I?

This might be the day Lyra becomes a devout worshipper, because only God could have given her the luck it required to have the bottle spun again and land on the man beside her; Grayson Fucking Hawthorne.

Lyra didn’t want to waste time, but she did stall a bit while turning to him. Even though they had kissed before, she was still inexplicably scared. 

Her courage came in remembering Avery’s words. She liked him and he liked her, and she could make this mean something.

She grabbed his face and kissed him to the sounds of the group cheering them on. He was silent before, but his lips were anything but. Grayson kissed her back fiercely. He kissed her like no one else was there.

When Lyra pulled back, she giggled, and she looked over to see Grayson having that familiar almost-smile on his face.

“Birthday boy!” The boy sitting beside Grayson clapped on the back and laughed. “Nice, man!”

Grayson didn’t respond to him or any of the others in the group cheering on his sudden break of character, instead just looking intensely at Lyra. All these people here knew him as the stoic business man who takes himself too seriously. So to see Grayson Hawthorne make out with a girl? In front of a crowd?

Well that’s a once in a lifetime chance. That’s something.

And when Lyra led him away and they went behind a wall and kissed again she knew it was something. When they kissed for so long they forgot where they were and her head was spinning and people were looking for Grayson to sing happy birthday, she knew it was something. When Grayson walked out with her, holding her hand and not even telling her to fix her smudged lipstick, she knew it was something.

[queen-isabelle-writes]

GRAYSON??

[fawnsite]

[murderouspurplecinnamonrolls]

Hear me out

I think that The Grandest Games is going to be a four book series

The cover has a spade on it which js one of four card suits

So I think we're gonna get a complete set of four books

[midiosaamor]

okay so like i just saw a emily rant and it reminded me of that one time her and jameson and grayson.

so LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT. YOURE TELLING ME THAT SHE WAS ABOUT TO KISS GRAYSON WHEN THEY WERE LITTLE. BUT JAMESON LITERALLY SAW, FR SAID “he wont be able to do it. but i will.” THEN EMILY KISSED JAMESON IN FRONT OF GRAYSON WHEN THEY WERE LITERALLY ABOUT TO FUCKING KISS, THEN SHE TURNS AROUND TO GRAYSON AND GOES “now you kiss me!!” THEN THEY KISS BUT WITH MORE PASSION WHILE JAMESON IS WATCHING TOO?? LIKE IS THAT NOT WEIRD?? BRO IF I SAW THAT I WOULD FIND EMILY AS AN IMMEDIATE BITCH AND PROBABLY BE WEIRDED OUT. WHAT THE HELL😭😭🙏

(this took place in thr brothers hawthorne as a flashback btw)

[arias-archive]

can you do a Lyra x grayson fic where Lyra gets body shamed online or in public by paparazzi and Grayson looses it???? And Lyra calms him down and it’s all fluffy??

a/n: YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN! LOVE ME SOME GRAYSONLYRA

warnings: body-shaming

description: number one rule of dating a famous guy: never read comments. but lyra has seen and heard enough that it barely affects her anymore, grayson, on the other hand, might go to jail for beating up said commenters

tig masterlist | masterlist

protective asshole (a graysonlyra fic)

The video must have been replayed several times now, the same criticising voice droning on from her phone speakers. Yet, her finger refused to move, hovering just a hairbreadth away from the screen.

Just a pathetic girl, encased in her boring little life, with nothing better to do. That’s what Lyra kept telling herself as she dragged the cursor back to rewatch the video, as if the opinions flung out would actually change.

If Lyra was being completely honest, it didn’t affect her as much as it should’ve. The video was awful, the words coming out of the girls mouth harsh and hateful, but somehow Lyra managed to keep it out. She wouldn’t allow herself to become ruffled by some trashy tart on social media. Besides, Lyra didn’t even know the girl enough to be offended. Truly. She was thinner, compared to Lyra’s accentuated curves. Growing up a dancer meant that Lyra maintained her healthy figure, which was continued through running. But her body wouldn't go any slimmer, and trust her, she had tried. She couldn’t help the genetics which shaped her to be the woman she is today.

So Lyra learned to embrace herself for who she truly was, not what she looked like. Sure, to some she had a body that screamed party to some people more than it showcased dancer, but why did that matter?

She was so engrossed in the short clip that she completely forgot her boyfriend who was lounging right beside her. And sure enough, his unforgiving icy-eyes pierced through her phone, silently seething at the video.

Snapping out of her daze, she scrolled past it, but not before Grayson spoke up. “What was her username?” His tone was so cold, so menacing, Lyra almost flinched.

Instead, she sat up and snorted, shrugging lazily. “Don’t know, don’t really care.” She was proud of herself to find that she actually meant those words, not having to hide behind the bravado to bear to bullet wounds.

“Tell me it.” That was Grayson mad. Very mad. Nobody could do ‘very mad’ as well as Grayson Davenport Hawthorne after seeing someone insult his loved ones. Seriously. Talk about lethal.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lyra insisted with dismissive wave of her hand, as if swatting the very thought from existence.

That didn’t make Grayson forget it though. He simply raised a stubborn brow, silently daring her to dismiss him again. His hand clenched around his own phone, and she was certain he was plotting someone’s very tragic demise behind those eyes.

“Why do you need to know?” If he wanted to be stubborn, she could dish it right back. She has told him to leave it, but noooooo, he just couldn’t listen. Stupid asshole.

He was silent for a moment, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Nobody ever has the right to speak to you that way.” He swore under his breath, shaking his head. “Who do they think they are? I’ll sue them. I will destroy th-”

Lyra cut him off with a firm kiss, her warm breath dancing over his face. When she pulled back, she pried his death-grip fingers off his phone, interlocking her own fingers with his instead.

The kiss barely distracted him. If anything, he still looked ready to murder someone. Protective asshole.

“I don’t want you doing anything,” she told him quietly, face mere inches from his, “because I genuinely couldn’t care less about some idiot’s damn opinion.”

She took a deep breath, her hand squeezing his tighter, lending some of her patience. “They don’t know me, Grayson, so let them say what they want. This isn’t the first time, and you know it won’t be the last.”

She could still remember the utter shock she had felt the first time the media comment on her body. It was soon after her and Grayson’s relationship went public. Paparazzi shouted some idiotic insult about how she looked in the dress she was wearing. Lyra had never seen Grayson so volatile before. He has never, ever, lost his control like that. Normally, he was so unshakeable arrogant.

Anger was still etched onto his every sharp feature, making him appear like a statue carved from ice, cold and unflinching. She rubbed her thumb between the crease in his brows, smoothing it out. She let out another heavy sigh, manoeuvring her body so that she was laying on top of his, head tucked beneath his chin.

This relationship was still relatively new, and Grayson wasn’t used to being touchy with, well, anyone. So Lyra didn’t get offended when she felt him tense up beneath her, but she also didn’t pull away. The asshole was just going to have to get used to it.

It took him a moment before he dropped his phone onto the mattress, wrapping an arm around her loosely. The room was quiet, and a soft, peaceful quiet that was impossible to experience in their lives. It felt… nice.

“Thank you, though,” she whispered reluctantly, so he could drop the damn subject. “For wanting to protect me. But you know I don’t need it.” With her cheek pressed against his chest, she could hear the slightly unsteady patter of his heart. You wouldn’t be able to tell that from his face though.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” he muttered lowly, tracing circles on her back. “Being with me doesn’t merit that.” He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her in. He blamed himself for this, as he did with everything else. No matter how many times she argued with him, he didn’t believe her. It wasn’t his fault.

Society loves to pick apart girls who date celebrities to make themselves feel worthier, as if that girl was the sole reason they weren’t the ones picked. It’s a shitty justification but it’s also true. Lyra made her peace with that.

The room was quiet again, the occasional rustle of sheets or soft sighs disturbing the peace. Grayson cleared his throat before he spoke up again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He sounded slightly hesitant to ask the question, and Lyra had never known him to hesitate on much.

She nodded against his shirt, sticking up her thumb for good measure. “Yes. I mean it. I’m really not bothered.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to contact her. I’m sure I can get the message across withou-”

“Grayson.”

[unnoodles]

Everyone needs to go listen to Free Now by Gracie Abrams because it is such a Grayson song.

Like. These lines. They're perfect. Especially in the first few books. This describes him.

And these lines. About him and Emily and how he was so affected by her and her death.

(Some of the later lines dont fit so well. But I'm ignoring that.)

[thejudeduarte]

Grayson is SO SOFT with her, they're like the grumpy x sunshine trope but siblingified 😭😭