#the Hawthorne brothers

[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.

[hearthown]

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? (HAWTHORNE EDITION)

So I leap from the gallows - Jameson

And I levitate down your street - Xander

Crash the party like a record scratch - Max

As I scream - Libby

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? - Avery

You should be - Grayson

I was tame, I was gentle - Rebecca

'Til the circus life made me mean - Thea

Don't you worry, folks - Nash

We took out all her teeth - Tobias???

(I MEAN Tobias did kind of take out all their teeth by making his grandsons feel inferior about their abilities 😭)

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME???

YOU SHOULD BE.

[moonchild311]

I need more thea calligaris/Rebecca Laughlin and max/Xander fics

[kaffeeine]

Hey and what if I said this was Jameson and grayson in high school what then

[reyreadersblog]

No cus i'll never forgive JLB not giving us the Hawthorne house map.

[reminiscentreader]

when i remember grayson and jameson were practically attached at the hip and best friends before emily

[jkriordanverse]

I think the reason why Grayson is so 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 is because he never got be a 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 horny teenage boy and is how jojo siwaing in his twenties

[lyra-kane]

I imagine when Avery was planning the grandest game riddles ,she sat there staring into the blank thinking ,while Jameson was looking at her face studying her with those lovesick eyes waiting for her to finally speak what's on her mind. And when she does, he gives her that soft smiles and his eyes gleam at whatever her idea is.

[astraeajackson]

jameson: who the fuck-

grayson: language

jameson:

grayson:

jameson: whom the fuck-

grayson: no

[f4iry-bell]

same person different font

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: end of my world

pairing: jameson x reader (love) & nash x reader (platonic)

synopsis: everything goes wrong in an instant. and just like that your entire life is flipped upside down

warnings: blood, hospitals, car crash

a/n: thank you for reading 🤍🤍

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

It was all a game. Just a harmless game.

Engines revved and wheels spun. The lights were bright and the smash was deafening.

It wasn’t meant to end like that.

I felt the impact of the crash. Heard his bones crunch. Saw the blood rolling down his face.

It was all a laugh. Being impulsive was for more entertaining than being responsible. I needed to stop thinking about the real world, I needed to be with him, I needed to feel free. I didn’t want to weight of a responsibility or the heaviness of my problems. I wanted to be stressless for once.

The ambulance sirens whirred and everything blurred around me. The people, their faces, their questions, everything but Jameson. All that I could see clearly was Jameson.

We were young and in love. Two idiots craving a buzz of adrenaline, something tingling through their bones. I’m not a reckless girl. Jameson is the reckless one in our relationship, he’s the cliff diver, the car crasher, the paraglider. Me? I’m the girl that sits at home and reads, cries at cheesy romcoms and plaits her hair just to redo it again later. I’m not dangerous, I’m not impulsive, I don’t do things I shouldn’t. Not until I did.

They wheeled him in on a hospital bed like he was in some medical drama, yelling commands, pressing emergency buttons. My legs were compelled to follow, magnetically attracted to him. He couldn’t die. Not here, not now, not like this.

It was all a mess of flashing lights and screams. I needed at least break. I wanted to be reckless knowing he would follow, but he didn’t immediately. He warned me, tried to stop me even. But I manipulated him with glossy doe eyes and a crack in my voice.

Arms interlocked around me, yanking me backwards as I yelled and screamed. Only his name. Jameson. Jameson. Jameson. I tried to get through but what was one injured girl against three doctors. Tears pummelled down my cheeks and I sobbed until my throat was so raw and numb that it didn’t work anymore.

I stare. He’s in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault. His lips are parted only just breathing. His eyes are shut, long eyelashes brushing against his upper cheek. His skin looks like porcelain, a sickening still, pale, perfect white.

He looks like he’s dead. I feel weak at the thought. He’s just lying there, unmoving, cold and I can’t do anything about it. Hopelessness digs sticky fingers through my chest to squeeze what’s left of its nemesis out of my heart.

They checked my reflexes, if my pupils still dilated, stitched together my few open wounds, x-rayed parts of me but everything was fine. Every test, every result, everything was fine. Jameson was anything but. The whole time I just felt nothing inside, my chest was empty, my body was hollow.

If I could trade myself for him I would in an instant. If I could reverse this fates out come. If I could change this. If, if, if… ‘if’ isn’t real. This is real. My love, my heart, my other half dying in a hospital bed, his Hawthorne smirk robbed from his sweet lips. The sweet lips that I’d tasted just hours ago. The sugary aftertaste still lingers but now it burns. Like a corrosive acid attacking my mouth.

He held me by the waist, his fingers so tentatively that it felt like I was delicate. He held my tear stained face in his hands, ignoring as more tears ran down my face dampening his gentle touch. He didn’t care that I was crying, he just kept kissing me. He could taste my thick, hot, salty tears on his tongue. Then we started the drive, that long and fateful drive. He didn’t know how much comfort that brought me, his lips on mine. He didn’t know that it might’ve been the last time out lips touched.

They’ve tried to rip me from his side since too many times, the doctors I mean, but I never budge. Since I was allowed back to see him they won’t dare come close. I don’t know what day it is, I don’t know how long I’ve been here and even though I’ve been told to eat or shower, I can’t will myself to move. I’m not hungry, I don’t care that be I’m dirty, because I feel numb. The world is a void of emptiness, a sea of nothingness.

Until the voices start. They begin as a quiet hum, a distorted melody in my brain. They’re ignorable, easy to get rid of. That’s before they get loud. With each dynamic louder they become harder and harder to control. The voices scream in my ears making my head pound.

You did this

It’s all your fault

How could you

You killed him

You’re worthless

Why didn’t you die

If he dies it’s your fault

Look what he sacrificed for you and what did you give him in return

You’ve never deserved him

You’re a murderer

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

In a torrent of dark voice swarm around me. I feel dizzy with it all, some weight growing deep in my chest, heavy like lead. I try to breathe, I try to gain control, I try to look at Jameson but it’s all getting too much. I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can’t speak.

Someone’s hand in on my shoulder. I look up, my vision slowly unbluring. Nash.

“Hey kid,” his voice is soft. He’s being careful around me like he’s treading on eggshells.

“Hey,” I manage to croak through my aching throat.

“Come on,” he sighs offering an arm, “you need to take a break.”

“No,” the word is sharp and hard and it silently echoes off of all of the surrounding walls of white. I am not going anywhere. My mind is set.

“Sorry kid,” he says calmly, “but this isn’t a request.”

He lightly puts a hand on my shoulder and I almost get emotional. I am craving human touch but need to deprive myself of it, because if I let it in I’ll fall apart.

“Don’t touch me,” I snap venom in my voice.

Nash looks at me, I can feel his gaze on my face, even though my eyes are pinned to Jameson’s sickly pale figure, “he’s going to be okay.”

“We don’t know that,” I hiss.

“The best doctors in the country have said so,” he reminds me, a gentleness in his voice I don’t deserve.

“Oh and they’re devoid of human error?” I scoff.

His eyes soften, “this isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t care,” I respond, still not meeting his eyes worried the spirals of hazel would send me into a state of dizzy tears.

“It’s not your fault.”

My lips part and I look up at him, “what?”

“It’s not your fault, kid,” Nash tells me, the tenderness in my voice making my bones throb.

I bite my lip to try and stop the tears as I shake my head, “it is,” I say, “I nearly killed him Nash.”

“You didn’t,” he soothes, “it’s not your fault.”

“I told him we should go,” I choke out, ugly fat tears running down my face, “I suggested it and-“

“Look at me,” he says firmly, gripping my shoulders with a familiar touch, “it’s not your fault.”

“It is, you don’t understand-“

“No, look into my eyes kid, okay,” he says, “this is not your fault.”

The words take a second to seep in. But once they do I lose it. I collapse into Nash in sobbing heap. The heaviness on my chest is too much, the air is suffocating me, the guilt is eating me alive, the worry is poisoning my body, the sadness is wracking my brain. I sob louder and harder the more I think about it.

Nash holds me tightly, he’s arms are strong and steady. He’s not letting go until I need him to, he makes as much clear. Somehow I feel like I’m a child again, curled up in his arms, only this time the nightmare is a reality.

He repeats a sentence over and over, whispering it comfortingly into my ear, “it’s not your fault. You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s not your fault.”

I pull away snivelling, wiping my damp face with the back of my hand.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Nash says slowly, when I am calmer, “we’re going to go to the cafeteria-“

I begin to object.

“I’m not taking no for an answer, sorry kid,” he replies with an older brother sort of look that tells me to not mess with him, “I don’t put my foot down often but now is one of those times where I have to. Jamie wouldn’t want you doing this to yourself.”

“I know.”

My voice is so small and vulnerable I don’t think I even recognise it.

“So we’re getting something to eat and then we’ll come straight back,” he explains, “I promise.”

“Yeah okay,” I nod slowly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Nash tells me, a warmth spreading across my heart, “everything will be okay.”

I nod shakily as he takes his hand and wipes the last of my tears away.

“Come on, let’s go,” he offers a hand to hold but I don’t take it straight away.

“Okay,” I agree slowly, “just one minute,”

He nods. He knows what I need, he understands. He silently leaves the room but I know he’s stood outside waiting for me.

I look back a Jameson, my eyes grazing over every inch of him. I wish he would open his eyes, I’d kill to see that vibrant green again. I push the hair out of his face gently and readjust his covers. When I sit back down I take his hand into mine and trace it, he used to love it when I did this. I kiss his split knuckles, each and every one then stand up to leave.

As I turn back one last time, what feels like a miracle occurs. I watch as Jameson’s eyes flutter open. My heart leaps in my chest and I feel so many things all at once. I want to scream and laugh and cry and break down but I stay calm, carefully approaching him.

“Hi Jamie,” I whisper, my eyes rimmed thick with joyous tears.

He stares at me blankly, his eyebrows pinching together in a soft confusion.

“Who are you?”

My whole life comes to a crashing halt before my eyes and my heart stops beating.

[sophiesonlinediary]

if u really think about it avery grambs is like sofia the first in a way

[downrightbooks]

OMGGG THEY’RE STARTING AT EACH OTHER!!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE

[beautifulandsodeprived]

Jameson doing thirst traps with Avery being so done in the background. thats it thats the post

[wildesqdreams]

you and i

pairing - grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - grayson hawthorne has a hard time living for just himself. but the love that he shares with y/n will always make him feel at ease.

warnings - this is set before the first book, so none, only kissing and romance.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: this has been stuck in my drafts for a long time, and i finally finished it :) now, i will be getting to your requests.

the bed slightly dipped, as the boy climbed in besides her. he was trying to be very quiet since it was already night, and everything was peaceful.

but he failed, when he felt y/n stir and turn around, facing him, "where were you?" her voice was a little raspy, and grayson couldn't help but smile at her tired state.

the girl had stayed up, waiting for her boyfriend, but soon sleep took over her and she went to bed. her arm wrapped around his waist as she snuggled closer to him, missing his warmth.

"just had to do some papers," his hand went to her waist, pulling her closer to his chest.

"you should take a break."

"hm."

"you know i'm right."

silence.

grayson hawthorne played an important role in his family. he wasn't the eldest nor the youngest, but almost everything stood on his shoulders. he was raised differently than his brothers. one day, he was going to inherit the heir, so it was important for grayson to do everything right. not make a single mistake.

but how can a person be happy if he can't let himself slip? if he can't let himself breathe and let go.

that's why y/n didn't let him get lost in the hawthorne life. even though grayson has a strong character, the girl isn't afraid to speak her mind. that's what pulled the boy towards her. the wise heart. the honesty. and of course the love that she gave to others.

"just because others have made unrealistic expectations about you doesn't mean you should follow them. you are your own person, grayson. sometimes it's okay to take a break, even if some may get mad."

and just like that, grayson fell in love with her even more.

"you know," his hand went to her cheek, "sometimes i wonder how lucky i got with you," he stroked her skin, his touch making goosebumps appear on her arms.

"i think you should stop with that cheesy crap," the girl smiled and rolled on her back.

not even a second later his hand went to her hip and she felt light kisses be planted on her neck, "i can't help it if i have a beautiful girl with me," his lips moved along her jaw, stopping upbove hers, "but you are so much more then beautiful to me, y/n."

"i'm serious about what i said grayson," she looked into his eyes, her hand went to the back of his neck, "i love you and i don't want you to over stress yourself. i just want to help."

"believe me, you're helping me a lot, love," with that, his lips connected with hers, into a passionate kiss. and in this moment, grayson hawthorne was reminded again that no amount of money was as important as the girl beneath him.

with the love that they felt for each other, the couple would get through anything. just as long as they were together.

taglist: @noaboacoa @mochamvgz