#tig x reader fluff

[drakoneve]

Long Run

request: Just something cute and sweet for tig with a gn reader, please? Anything, bro I'm starved.

pairing: Tig Trager x gn!reader

word count: 600+

warnings: mention of a cartel? typical club shit

a/n: I LOVVVEEEEE this man <333

Three years into your relationship with Tig, you should be more than used to long club runs. And, for the most part, you handled the separation well.

You could keep yourself busy with work, chores, and upkeep at the clubhouse with Gemma and Tara while the boys were gone but this work would only last so long.

Tiggy kept in contact as much as he could on the road with calling in between stops and in the evenings while on your drive home. There was the old "what happens on the road stays on the road" club rule, but since the beginning of your relationship Tig made a promise to be loyal to you and he'd yet to break it.

You'd known his reputation with men and women of loving and leaving them before ever getting involved with him, and so you'd made him promise.

This run is different, however.

The club made a special trip to Santo Padre on a favor to Marcus Alvares to help the local Mayans in town handle some cartel business, and before anyone knew it their one week in Santo Padre had turned into three.

It's why tonight you sat alone in the home you shared with Tig, cuddled up in blankets on his side of the bed watching old Criminal Minds reruns.

Being on his side of the bed, resting your head on the pillow seeming infused with Tig's favorite cologne (the one you'd been getting him since your first anniversary together), brought you the comfort of Tig while he was gone.

After several episodes and half a bag of popcorn later you'd finally begun to dose off when you heard it... the soft rumblings of an approaching motorcycle.

Out of habit you reached for the spare gun in the drawer of Tig's nightstand. Before him you had never shot a gun, but after the incident with Tara and Margaret being kidnapped incited Tig to teach you to defend yourself, which meant being able to use a gun if necessary.

You crept your way into the living room to peek out from behind the window curtains to see exactly who it was pulling up in your driveway.

Even though his helmet covered most of his hair, you could see Tig's small curls poking out the bottom, unruly as ever. He shuts his bike off and begins to remove his helmet and you decide you just can't take it anymore.

You abandon the gun in your hand on one of the couch end tables before heading out the door, barefoot and wearing one of Tig's shirts.

Tig raises his head when he hears the door, confused at first, but his gorgeous smile overtakes him as he realizes it's you coming for him.

You go as fast as your legs will carry you, throwing yourself against Tig's broad chest and wrapping your arms around his torso. His arms follow suit, wrapping around you and pulling you up off the ground for a moment before setting you back down, yet his arms don't release you.

"What are you doin' awake at this hour, baby?" he asks, voice muffled in your hair as he breathes you in. "You've got work tomorrow. Well, today, actually."

"Missed you," you confessed into his chest. Finally you bring yourself to pull away slightly, taking in Tig's face.

The bags under his eyes were slightly more defined than when you last saw him, but his blues sparkled down at you with excitement.

"You've been gone far too long, Tiggy," you scold playfully. "I don't think I'm letting you leave me ever again. I don't like it."

His blue eyes flicker over your face as his hands cup either side. "I don't wanna be away from you either, baby. You're everything."

Tig pulls you into a soft kiss. He never moves his hands from your face as he pulls away just slightly, resting his forehead against your own.

"Let's go inside, doll." Tig peppers kisses across your face. "I'm in desperate need of some lovin' from my baby, okay?"

"Mmm," you hum, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. "I can't exactly say 'no' to that, can I?"

[inmyheaddd]

coffee sweetener — grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req! wc: 1.8k summary: one of your regulars at your café, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.

a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.

some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really. 

his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now. 

today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.

he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.

“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.

“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.” 

“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”

you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”

everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either. 

you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.

you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin. 

“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.” 

you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.

grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits. 

“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?” 

tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.” 

you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason. 

“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeline. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.

he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.

he only smiled in response.

''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''

''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''

you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''

amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.

“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.” 

“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.

“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.” 

“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it. 

your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.

“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?” 

his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.

you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.” 

biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''

you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.

holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.

ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter. 

''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.

''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''

you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.

''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.

you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.

''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.

''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''

if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.

chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"

"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."

'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''

you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.

the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.

a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.

there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.

Unknown Number:

Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃 Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.

you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.

you

i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣

you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 

[etclouie]

“was just a peck, sweetheart”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; your boyfriends love language is biting (Tig Trager x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; established relationship, tig bites + his love language is biting, they're both idiots in love, uhm that’s it i think

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 707

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; counter to tig getting bit😇

soa masterlist | main masterlist like tig? join my taglist !

you were at the clubhouse, sitting on one of the rugged old couches while you sat curled into his side. 

left arm around his neck while your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through his curls while he practically purred at your touch. 

shaking your head as he relished in the feeling of your fingers, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

he always let himself get lost in the feeling of your, lost in his thoughts of you. every thought he had was of you, save for the little chunk that was reserved for the club—but you outweighed it by the majority. 

now, as he got lost in you, his mind began to run on autopilot. 

he leaned in, nipping at your jaw how he usually did, before his bites trailed down across your throat and neck. 

but that was the thing with Tig, the one thing that he didn’t fully understand but couldn’t fight. 

Tig’s love language wasn’t words. it wasn’t gifts or acts of service, though he did provide them whenever you asked. 

no, for Tig it was something primal, something instinctive.  he showed affection in ways people didn’t always understand—through the sharp, passionate bite of his teeth on you skin. 

it had started as a joke, a playful nip to your neck when the two of you were alone, something brief but enough to make you shiver. the next time, his bite was harder, deeper. a kiss with teeth, a sign of something more — something unspoken. 

he didn’t think much of it. Tig Trager, the man who lived for chairs and risk, for that edge between danger and thrill, knew only one way to show you that he cared; by marking you. by biting you. 

you’d never talked about it, never needed to. but after the first few times, it became a ritual. a way for him to ground himself when the weight of the world became too much. 

when his past haunted him too deeply. when the scars he carried felt too heavy— he bit you, and in those moments, it was like everything else faded away. you were his anchor. 

your fingers continued through his hair, nails brushing gently across his scalp and he had to bite at your shoulder to stop himself from groaning too loudly. 

but the next bite he gave after that was different, much deeper than every other one he had given before. 

“ow, Tig!”

your call of his name and the way your fingers tugged at his hair to pull him away had his attention coming back. 

blue eyes meeting yours, as a half guilty look crossed his face. 

“sorry didn’t mean it that hard”

he told, lifting one of his hands to soothe his thumb over the fresh mark. leaning in he pressed a soft kiss to the mark, his head lifting to meet your eyes. 

shaking your head as he flashed you a pout, something he did to get back in your good books. 

“that hurt Tig”

you told, poking a finger at his chest. rolling your eyes as he held his hands up on surrender, slouching against the back of the couch in the process. 

the clubhouse had emptied since you’d arrived, leaving only a couple of the prospects stocking things behind the bar. they were harmless, knew they wouldn’t say anything about you and Tig on the opposite side of the room. 

slowly you hooked a leg across both of his, settling in his lap while he smirked up at you. 

his hands came down to settle on your hips, thumbs soothing back and forth as he leaned in to kiss across your throat. his kisses made you giggle, trying to pull back from his touch again until he bit and sucked at your pulse point, causing your breath to hitch. 

“Tig..”

you tried, the warning tone in your voice holding no malice. which only made him continue, more nips and bites across your skin before he mumbled out. 

“was just a peck, sweetheart”

he continued to smirk up at you, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you down against his chest. 

catching your lips in another kiss before you whispered out against his lips. 

“less teeth next time”

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? Epilogue

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Summary: her heart is so full.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 975

A/n: we are done with this series... I CANT BELIEVE IT OMG WERE DONE WITH IT 😭

THANK YOU TO YOU ALL FOR COLLOWING THIS SERIES EVEN THOUGH IT TOOK ME MONTHS TO FINISH IT ASJHAJDHDF 😭 ILY ALL SO MUCH ILY ILYY

im so happy heheh 🥹

anyways, enjoy!🥹❣️

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Mommyyy."

Y/n sighed, bowing her head and rubbing her eyes, water dripping from her fingers. She had only just gotten into the bath and Adelaide already missed her?

"Yes my love?" she called out.

"Where are you?"

"In the bath, baby."

Adelaide’s response was only the soft pitter patter of her feet as she ran into the bathroom, the door unlocked because Y/n knew her little girl loved following her around and if she had locked the door, it would have resulted in a tiny tantrum.

"Mommy, where is daddy?"

Adelaide had returned from school half an hour earlier, the car ride back home filled with her babbling about everything that had happened that day. Y/n had no choice but to nod along like she understood it all, while half the stuff she could not even make sense of.

It made her wonder if she even knew english.

Y/n raised her brows at her five year old. She only just remembered that her daddy was not home?

"Baby, daddy had some work. He will be returning soon."

Adelaide pouted, leaning against the tub and swirling her finger through the milky water.

"I miss him."

Y/n nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to call him?"

Adelaide’s eyes lit up. "Yes momma! Please."

Y/n wiped her hand on a nearby towel and picked up her phone to dial up her husband’s number.

"Hello?"

Y/n had the call on speaker phone, so before she could respond, Adelaide did.

"Daddy! Where are you?"

Y/n could hear the smile in Grayson’s voice. "I’m just parking the car sweetheart. Come greet me?"

Adelaide only giggled and ran off, leaving the bathroom door open. Y/n sighed again, shaking her head.

Adelaide was a daddy’s girl through and through. And he was just as smitten by her as she was him.

Y/n would never want it any other way.

"You there, love?"

Y/n blinked, turning her attention to her phone. "Yes."

He paused for a moment. "I forgot what I was supposed to say." he exhaled a frustrated breath, prompting Y/n to giggle.

From the other end, Y/n heard Adelaide’s voice squeaking and squealing and smiled, deciding to end the call. Her husband would soon be coming to say hi anyway.

My husband.

Despite being married for four years already, the thought made her blush every time.

The two had gotten married almost a year after he had proposed. It took the two almost twelve months to convince Liam and her father that Grayson actually loved Y/n. Y/n’s mother, despite being disappointed in Grayson, had forgiven him quickly.

Maybe she saw the way Grayson looked at Y/n, or maybe it was her mother’s heart that only wanted happiness for her daughter. Whatever it was, she had accepted the two’s engagement within the first month. It was the men of the house who still held a grudge.

Y/n’s father and brother would constantly poke at Grayson, at times borderline bully the poor man. But Gray did not budge on his decision to marry her, even knowing that there was a chance that her family would never accept him and always hold animosity towards his very existence.

And that very determination of his to stay with Y/n swayed her father and brother, and while they still weren’t too friendly with him still, things were constantly getting better.

"Mommy’s in there." Y/n heard just a moment before Grayson appeared in the doorway, Adelaide in his arms.

His brows rose the tiniest fraction when he realised Y/n was in the tub. "Well, hello mama. How are you?"

Y/n shook her head, suppressing her smile at the way he shot her a suggestive smirk. "Good."

Adelaide squirmed in Grayson’s arm before he could say anything else, attention already drifting.

"Daddy, I drew you in school today. Let me show you."

She was gone then, leaving Y/n with her husband, who’s lips spread in a flirtier smirk.

He walked closer to her, leaning in while eyeing her shoulders. Y/n could already see the gears in his head turning, already thinking of ways to persuade Y/n to let him join. He began leaning in when she splashed some water on him, making him jerk away.

"Y/n! What was that for?"

She giggled, leaning back in the tub, shaking away the few tendrils of hair that had escaped her bun. "Just felt like it."

He scowled at her, then before Y/n knew what was happening, he began tickling her.

Well, I didn’t think about the consequences.

"Gray- Grayson stoop."

He finally relented after a long moment of making Y/n laugh hysterically, her stomach squeezing.

If anyone who had known Grayson five years ago saw him now, so happy and warm, they would not believe it. But Adelaide had somehow, without even knowing, healed her father. He was happier now, he did not hide his emotions behind a mask, he smiled at everyone he talked to.

"That’s what you get for being mean to me."

She just smiled at him, her heart so full, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, not caring that she left behind prints of her hand, and tugged him close.

He let her do so without a complaint, smile on his lips when she finally kissed him.

"Daddy!"

Y/n pulled away, laughing lightly. "Go, daddy, your princess has summoned you."

He chuckled back, standing straight, but seemed to change his mind as he pecked her lips once more. "I’m yours."

Random confessions of love had become a habit of his now.

Kissing her forehead once he jogged out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Leaving her to smile to herself like a giddy teenager.

Mine.

He’s mine.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams

@bubybubsters @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @thena101

@imaseabear @book-nerd-emi @cassie6392

The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015

[beemynumberone]

Grayson notices first. Because, of course he does.

He sees the way you make the effort to stand on your tiptoes as you help a granny pick a loaf of bread off the top shelf.

He watches you load the shopping trolley, the granny’s smile mirroring your contagious beam.

And he wonders, how could a person like you be so giving and yet so restrained.

He knows the routine - find a meaningful aspect worth a story, take a snap shot, frame and repeat. Maybe find a place on one of the many Hawthorne foundation walls to hang it.

And in the couple of days he’s been trailing you, he can’t find a singular aspect in which you don’t shine in.

You’ve been anything but ordinary. And that’s saying a lot for a guy who’s visited thrice the number of countries the average person could dream of by the age of seventeen.

Everything you’ve done has been generous, charitable, benevolent. For others.

What about yourself? He wonders. Do you care for yourself with half the effort you spend on others? Do you, perhaps, take the time to rest your darkened under-eyes?

He can’t fault you. He should know best. A workaholic, obsessed with using the privilege bestowed upon him to serve as many people as he could.

How thin could one spread themselves for the good of others?

——————————————————————————————————

It’s raining now. The regular patter of raindrops on the concrete soothing to the ears.

You turn to him, eyes crinkling in superficial jolly. He sees the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. He’s been around false pretences far too long to stay ignorant.

“Let me.” He speaks gently but firmly, gesturing to the bags in your hands.

It’s a command, more than a query.

You can’t find it in yourself to say no. The straining plastic handles seem to be trying their best to cut the circulation on your fingers.

In true gentleman fashion, you suppose, the blonde transfers the bags he’d been holding into one hand, extending the other for yours. The moving is done with seemingly with no effort.

You stretch out your aching palms and blink away the fatigue the best you can.

You lead Grayson to the van, loading the booth with a capacious number of groceries. It’s preparation for Christmas week in the food bank - one you’ve started with a couple of friends in the neighbourhood.

You slam the booth shut, ready to head to the driver’s side. Grayson strides ahead of you. “I’ll drive. You get some rest.”

You stare him down in the rain, pale gray eyes against yours.

“It’s perfectly fine, I can drive. Besides, you’re here as a photographer right? Can’t have you too tired to take pictures later.”

“I’ll be in perfect condition. Don’t worry about it.” He calmly stands his ground, words flowing out his mouth like honey. You don’t want to admit it, but his words soothe your drained self.

So annoying, you sigh, feeling indebted to him.

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he extends a handkerchief to you. It’s gray (who knew?), embroidered with caca lilies at the hem. Petals with a clean, no-frills silhouette. Much like its owner, you chuckle to yourself.

Grayson catches a glance of you drying yourself off with his handkerchief, a small grin on the corner of your lips. He can’t help but smile too, amused that you found the piece of cloth entertaining.

——————————————————————————————————

It’s been 20 minutes into the drive home.

You yawn loudly, and stretch the best you can while confined by the seatbelt, ignoring the dignified presence beside you. You side eye the guy, just in case he got too displeased with such unseemly manner.

And get slight whiplash when he locks eyes with you.

Grayson is surprisingly, slouching in the leather chair, hair slightly tousled. His slacks crinkle at the perfect spots, shirt still slightly damp from the rain. His eyes bore right through you and the red light illuminating his figure does nothing to soften his gaze.

You fidget with your hands. You feel out of place in the passenger seat, with nothing to grip onto for comfort, for control. To feel like you owed no one.

“Need help urm, drying the shirt?”

And again, Grayson goes against your expectations, dropping his arm for you to have an easier access to his chest.

You hold your arm steady as you dab the cloth on the darkened spots.

The red light turns green and you retract your hand.

“Thanks. Consider it payment for the driving.”

Your cheeks burn. He knew.

You don’t notice the way the tips of Grayson’s ears tinge pink.

Picture from Pinterest.

[adddddiiii]

Grayson Hawthorne x ADHD!reader Headcanons #2

Context: He introduces you to his family

He knew all hell would break loose when you met Xander

Like when you and Xander were in the same room it was like two rogue chimps on caffeine. Poor Gray was frightened 😔

You and Jameson would film the weirdest tiktoks known to man and you'd end up convincing a very reluctant Grayson to join

When you're burntout, Grayson and Nash would just sit with you until you felt better

Oren would warm up to you pretty quickly

When Gray finally introduced you to Skye, she did not like that you were dating her son

But you didn't like her either so

Rebecca was a bit overwhelmed when she met you because of your hyperactive demeanor but eventually started enjoying your presence

You never truly enjoyed dinners at Hawthorne House

The place was far too much like a maze and a little too loud for your liking

Not to mention the amount of chefs and helpers buzzing around

Grayson would always gently hold your hand under the table

He knew that although you did love most of his family, you needed your own space in which you felt comfortable

So he'd rent an apartment for you two

Now for every holiday or special occasion, Grayson's brothers would come over to your place and have dinner

Oh and how you loved it all

pt. 1, pt. 3

[kdogreads]

My Savior

Chibs Telford x reader (minors DNI)

Warnings: implied kidnapping, injuries described, disassociation due to trauma, death (only the bad guys), nothing too graphic overall but please be gentle to yourself and skip this one if it will make you uncomfortable ❤️

AN: idk why I am so in my feels lately but I just love this man 😭

Check out my masterlist for more Chibs content 😍

Your head hung low as the fatigue of hunger, exhaustion, and fear weighed on your body. There was commotion outside the bolted door to your back and you prepared for more abuse to ravage your body and mind. You shut your eyes and willed yourself to go somewhere else in your mind, anywhere else.

You floated to an unlikely oasis, the Sons’ clubhouse. The smells flooded your senses: booze, cigarettes, weed, even the slight fragrance of sex brought you comfort, silly as it was, because it smelled like safety to you. You tried to place yourself at the bar top, surrounded by the laughter, arguing, chatting of the guys. Next to you and all around you, like a blanket of safety, you felt his arms around your waist, hands pressing into the small of your back in a comforting embrace; Filip.

Baby, you heard in your head, his voice washing over you like a summer breeze.

Baby.

“Christ, baby. Come back to me, love, please,” A desperate plea caused you to tense your body, “I’m gonna take ya home, lass, come on.” The familiar accent you loved so much sounded like it was right in front of your battered face.

You fluttered your eyes open, daring to leave your dreamscape just for the slim chance your mind wasn’t lying to you.

“There ya are, love, tha’s it,” You shuddered as a calloused, gentle hand brushed against your cheek, “Oh, lass, ‘m so sorry, my love. Come on, I’m gettin’ you outta here.”

You started to believe what you were seeing, close enough for you to touch. He was here.

Your Filip was here, right in front of you, reaching out to hold you, to wrap you in that warm embrace you so desperately willed yourself to imagine.

“Filip?” You croaked, your voice breaking as the realization finally sank in that he found you. He saved you.

“Aye, M'annsachd (my blessing), ‘m here,” He cooed to you, staring deep into your bruised eyes as you reached out to cling to the black cotton of his plain sweatshirt, “Put yer arms around me, lass. Come on.”

You did as he said, not thinking, just giving yourself over wholly to Filip, your savior.

He slid one arm around your back and the other under your bent knees, grasping you as gently as he could as to not cause you any more pain. Like you weighed nothing at all, he lifted you from the cold, hard concrete you’d lived on for god knows how many hours, maybe days. Exhausted and relieved beyond measure, your head fell to his broad shoulder as you slipped back and forth between awareness and unconsciousness.

You felt the heaviness of the room change as Filip carried you through the doorway, into one hallway, and turning down another.

“Oh Christ, sweetheart,” Another familiar voice filled your ears; Tig. “Is she alright?”

“Aye, for now. Let’s go,” Filip answered as you felt Tig’s hand brush over your hair affectionately.

Your eyes fluttered open and shut as Filip carried you through some rooms and up a flight or two of stairs. You caught a glimpse of who you could only assume used to be your captors. Their bodies slumped in an unnatural way, blood dripping down the wall behind them. Filip would tell you what they’d done to them if you asked, but you decided right then that you didn’t care. All that mattered is they found you, and those monsters got what they deserved.

A heavy door swung open and you felt the warmth of the sunshine beaming onto your skin for the first time in days. It washed a relief onto you that was only amplified when you saw the faces of more of the guys fleeting past you. Bobby, Opie, Jax, Happy, and Juice came into your view as Chibs kept walking towards the van, each with a look of despair or sympathy on their faces. Half-Sack sat up in the driver’s seat and turned the engine over as you got closer, his eyes widened.

You knew you must be looking worse for wear, but it must be worse than you thought given the looks each of the men gave you.

Filip settled you into his lap as the guys filed into the van and headed off towards home. Your bones began to ache as the shock wore off and the reality of your condition set in.

“Sleep, lass. We’ll get you home,” Chibs cooed into your ear, his hand brushing over your bloodied hair in the most comforting touch you’d ever felt.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the van, but you heard murmurs here and there as you faded in and out of sleep.

“Aye, she’ll be alrigh’, she’s gonna need all of us to get through it,” Filip spoke quietly during one of your short periods of awareness.

“We’re here both of you, brother,” Jax responded first.

“For anything, bro,” Bobby added warmly.

A chorus of mmhmm’s and yep’s followed the sentiments, undoubtedly accompanied by nods.

The next several hours went by in a blur. You were vaguely aware of the familiar voices coming and going, offering sweet encouragement and reassurances. You lost count of everyone who was there, but you made a note to thank every one of them for being there for you.

When you finally came to for more than a moment, the comfortable weight of a broad, calloused hand in yours pulled you fully into the waking world.

“Baby?” You croaked as best you could, throat dry from being under for so long.

“There’s my girl,” Filip smiled as he brought your hand to his lips, “Back wi’ the livin’”

“Thanks to you, Filip,” You weakly reached for his face, fingers gliding through the scruff on his chin, “You saved me.”

He leaned into your touch, pressing another sweet kiss to your knuckles, careful not to pressure on the bruises blossoming there.

“Aye, lass, maybe so,” He stood up to wrap you in his arms as best as he could over the rails of the hospital bed, “But you saved me long, long ago just by bein’ you, my angel.”

[brunettemarionette]

The living room is dimly lit, save for the erratic blinking of the multicolored Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the tree. It's not just the lights; the whole thing looks like a fever dream of holiday chaos.

The ornaments don't match—half of them are cracked or missing hooks, so they dangle at awkward angles. The tinsel? It's thrown on in clumps like someone gave up halfway through. And the star on top? Crooked. Obviously.

You rub your temple, trying to process the scene in front of you. "Tig, what… what is this?"

He's standing beside the tree, his arms crossed over his chest and a grin that's somehow equal parts mischievous and proud. And, of course, he's wearing a Christmas sweater. Not just any Christmas sweater, but one with a giant reindeer face on it, complete with a red pom-pom nose.

"This," he announces, gesturing grandly, "is Christmas cheer; it's festive!" He gestures grandly toward the tree like a game show host, revealing the grand prize.

"Cheer?" You squint at the flashing lights that seem almost determined to give you a migraine. "It looks like Christmas threw up in here."

"Come on, babe, don't be like that," Tig says, stepping closer. He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. "You can't tell me you don't love it."

You raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep a straight face. "Festive doesn't mean chaos."

Tig just laughs with a nod. "Chaos is kinda my thing," he says, nuzzling your hair. "Besides, I saw you smile when you walked in. Mission accomplished."

And damn it, he's right. Despite the absurdity of the tree, the clashing colors, and the ridiculous sweater, you find yourself grinning. He looks so pleased with himself, like a kid showing off a macaroni ornament they made in kindergarten.

You bite your lip, pretending to be unimpressed, but the warmth of his hug and the genuine pride on his face starts to melt your resolve. He's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters, and suddenly, the mismatched ornaments and clumpy tinsel don't seem so bad. "Okay, fine. But next year, we're decorating together."

Tig chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple, his hands sliding to your waist as he gives you a playful squeeze. "Deal. But only if I still get to wear the sweater."

"Only if it's a better sweater," you counter with a playful smirk, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you pluck at the hideous sweater jokingly as if the sight alone is offensive.

"Babe, there's no such thing as a better sweater." Tig grins, pulling you closer with a mischievous expression that you know can only mean you'll be getting that exact same jumper next year to match.

As the two of you stand there, wrapped up in each other and surrounded by the most atrocious tree you've ever seen, you realize that maybe Christmas chaos isn't so bad after all.

[imagininghim]

Chapter 30

A/N: It's been so so long since I've wrote and I tried to re-read the other chpaters to remember what I've written. So, I hope it's as good as before.

I do apologize for the short chapter. I am working through going through all the chapters and editing them and making some minor changes, I will update if there is any major changes!

My original plan was to stay in par with the show but I have decided to change that and go in a different way, there will still be some parts that are in par with the show but most of the story will start to go in a different route.

I am currently finishing up the end of my Psychology degree which is why I haven't written in a while but I hope you guys still enjoy it!

Like, comment, and reblog!

Waking to the sun bright in my eyes, Jax's arms wrapped around my waist. I smiled brightly as I glanced down at my hand to see the sparkling diamond ring on my hand. I twisted towards the nightstand and reached for my phone.

"Happily ever after won't be so happy when I get my hands on you." The message read from an unknown number. My stomach dropped as I slipped out from underneath Jax's grip and proceeded to get dressed.

I glanced back at Jax, noticing he was sound asleep before heading out the door and out into the club. Walking out I seen Tig and Chibs sitting at the bar.

"Goodmorning Dollface" Tig chirped as he poured up a cup of coffee laying it on the bar and sliding it towards me.

"Good morning, I'm gonna head up to the roof for a little while." The boys both nodded as I rose up and proceeded to the roof.

The sun was shining, beating the heat into the roof. I placed the cup of coffee on the ledge, hauling my phone out again re-reading the text over and over again.

What am I going to do?

I paced back and forth contemplating whether or not I should tell the Jax and the club or leave it, but I was torn away from my thoughts by the sound of foots steps approaching behind me. I jumped when I felt two warm hands taking ahold of my hips.

"Hey, you okay?" I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders when I heard the sound of Jax's voice. Turning to face him, I slid my phone into my back pocket of my shorts and gave him a smile.

"Yeah, of course. You just spooked me a little, is all." He looked at me a bit skeptical before shrugging it off and nodding.

"You weren't there when I woke up, I came to find you and Tig said you were up here." I took a seat and picked up my coffee.

"I just came out for a bit of sunshine and fresh air is all." Taking a seat next to me, Jax reached over and took the cup from my hands and took a sip.

"The club and I have to do a run today, we should be back in about three days. I got Gemma and the prospects checking in on you while were gone." I nodded with a small smile, the thought of the text swirling around in my thoughts. "Are you sure everything's okay? I can try to sta-"

"No!" I cut Jax off before continuing, No, I'm fine. Just tired, you go deal with club business and don't worry about me." I could tell that he knew something was up but he gave me a nod and a quick kiss before climbing down the latter.

Sliding my phone from my back pocket, I re-read the text over and over again.

What the fuck am I gonna do?

~~ Time Skip ~~

The boys finished in church as the prospects loaded the guns into the duffel bags, I leaned against the bar as Jax made his way over to me.

"You stay safe, don't leave here unless someone is with you." I gave him a small chuckle, laying my hands against his chest playing with the strings on his hoodie.

"I don't need a babysitter Jax. I am a big girl, I can handle myself." He stared at me without blinking. "Okay fine, I'll make someone comes with me." He gave me his famous Teller smirk before placing his lips against mine.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made us tear apart. Jax turned around to reveal the Opie standing behind him.

"It's time to go." He nodded before turning back to me.

"I love you, stay safe. We'll be gone three days tops." I pressed my lips to his. Pulling away I spoke,

"I love you, stay safe." And with that they headed out.

When the club was empty and the boys were gone, I felt my phone vibrate.

"Looks like someones all alone with no big bad biker to protect them."

Fuck.

[redr0sewrites]

THIS IS SO DELICIOUS I LOVE GRAYSON SM URGHHHH

maybe i will write for the inheritance games

Good Friends

Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content, PiV sex, tigh riding, cockwarming, Grayson Hawthorne bites

   Another week passes before Skye contacts the lawyers about a will reading. I’m working on my manuscript in the solarium, legs draped across Grayson’s lap while he reads, when Skye bursts in, “Who is Avery Kylie Grambs?”

   The hand caressing my knee freezes and he takes a steadying breath before answering, “I’ve never heard of them.”

   Skye marches around, so she is standing in front of us, “according to the lawyers, my father requires the presence of certain people at the reading or it will not be read at all. One of these people is some Avery Kylie Grambs. Someone that none of us has heard of.”

   Then as if she just notices me, “oh hello sweetie! Xander said you were working on a new book. Will it be a little more….lighthearted?”

   “You could call it a romanticism revival,” I say, tousling Gray’s hair.

   “I have a soft spot for love stories. Especially, your love stories,” she gives us a knowing smile, before sweeping out of the room. 

   Grayson tosses my notebook on the coffee table, “you know Mary Shelly invented the horror genre during the romanticism movement, don’t you?”

   I shift so I’m sitting across his lap, “I’m familiar with the Romanticism Movement,” still playing with his hair, “I did convince you to sign up for ages of art and literature with me junior year.”

   Grayson laughs, hands resting on my hips, “Convinced? You begged me, Davis” 

   I close the space between us, “I don’t beg, Hawthorne,” moving to get up.

   He’s quick to stop me, practically throwing me into the plush cushions. Giggling, I try to unsuccessfully slip from his grasp; trapped beneath him. Barely containing a grin, I begin a new strategy, sliding my fingers around his sides, until I find the spot that makes him jump. Gray stifles his laugh as best he can, “Flower, what do you think you’re doing?”

   Instead of answering, I concentrate on that one spot. When he can’t hold back, the most wonderful sound bursts forth. Eyes squeezed shut, head ducked forward, squirming, and I find myself laughing with him. 

   “Please,” Gray gasps, trying and failing to find a ticklish spot of mine.

   His contagious laughter is a sound I haven’t heard in a long time. Desperate for it to continue, I dodge his hands blindly grasping for my wrists. 

   “Enough,” he holds my arms above my head, last remnants of laughter shake his form, “you’re done.”

   My laughing fit ceases when I look up. Grayson, drenched in sunlight, the honey and gold of his hair illuminated by the evening sky. Eyes smokey, almost haunting, and totally–

   “Exquisite,” I breathe

   “What’s ex–” 

   Raising my head, I connect our lips.Grayson relaxes into it, pushing my hands farther into the seat and settling himself against me. The world is reduced to nothing as I lose myself in his intoxicating kiss. He leaves slow kisses on my neck, a hand squeezing along my thigh to wrap around his. I try to reach out, to tangle my  hands in his hair, cradle his face, anything. Each time I’m met with a strong, gentle push to keep my hands still. My frustrated huff is met with Gray’s breathy chuckle before his lips are back on mine, hungry. Whining as he bites at my bottom lip. Legs around his waist, I try to pull him closer, rolling my hips up in search of something to ease my now growing frustration. A groan rumbles through his chest, his own need evident. When I grind upwards again, Grayson has my hips in a vice grip holding them still against the sofa.

   “Careful, my flower,” his face deadly serious.

   I sit up, “or what?”

   Grayson blinks, brows furrowed. His hands never leave their place tracing the skin along the waist of my shorts. I press a kiss to the corner of his mouth then along his jaw, his breaths heavy. 

   “Did you hear me, little prince,” I coo, rolling my hips again.

   He sighs, hands trailing up my spine, fingers digging slightly when I nip his jaw. “Tell me what’s gonna happen, little prince,” I mumble against his neck, working to loosen his tie. 

   “I want you go–,” Gayson licks his lips, averting his eyes.

   The beginnings of that word make my heart pound, “say it.”

   He meets my gaze, “I want you, goddess.”

   He stands without warning and leads me through one of the many hidden corridors in the house. Pressing him against the wall, I leave a trail of hot kisses to the spot behind his ear that makes him shiver. Grayson tangles his hands in my hair, tugging lightly. He whines when I step back, unbuttoning his shirt.

   “Off.” 

   He responds without hesitation, harshly pulling his arms out of the long sleeved button-down. My hands slip under the plain undershirt, his stomach muscles tensing at my touch, the fabric bunching together as it slides upward, quickly followed by my own top. He pulls me flush against him for another needy kiss, before picking me up. Grayson walks slowly towards his bed, squeezing my ass as I pepper kisses along his jaw. He turns, so I’m straddling him when he sits. He pulls my hips forward, grinding me against him, my breath hitches. Desire taking over, I rock against him, breathy moans escaping.

   “Someone’s needy,” Grayson breathes against my ear, hands running along the band of my bra,  “I wanna see you, all of you. Please.”

   The sweetness in his request pulls me back to reality, heat rising in my face when I stand, shimming out of my shorts and panties. Grayson kisses up my stomach, before pulling me to straddle his thigh. He nips at my collarbones, unclasping my bra, fingertips trailing down my arms and tossing it aside. Grayson sits back appreciating my bare form grinding against his slacks, his mouth slightly agape. 

   His hands grip my hips tightly, guiding my movements, “this feel good, flower?”

   “Mmhmm,” my mind clouds with building pleasure.

   I rest my head against his, cupping his face in my hands, eyes fluttering shut with each grind. Every motion, every thought consumed by the yearning for more; more of him. I let one hand slide down to stroke him through his slacks making him buck against me. Grayson’s fingers ghost along my soft flesh and my breath hitches when he brushes my nipple. I shudder under his touch, sighing from the combined sensations. My head falls back when he takes one into his mouth, moaning as he licks the peaked bud. I rake my hands through his hair, tugging harshly, approaching bliss. My hips stutter, elastic band tightening in my abdomen, “Grayson,” I whine. 

   Grayson’s eyes snap back to mine, dark, “say it again.” 

   Hands finding my hips again, he flexes the muscles of his thigh making me cry out from the added pressure; his name falling from my lips like a prayer. My breath comes in short gasps, catching in my throat when the band finally snaps, in blinding pleasure. Grayson pulls my hips against him, drawing it out as my thighs shake until I lean heavily against his shoulder, breathless. 

   He presses a kiss to my temple, “that was exquisite.” 

   I reach between us, feeling the shape of him. Grayson bucks his hips against my hand, before forcing himself still. I lean back to look at him, taking him by the shoulders, “we can stop, little prince.”

   “I want this. It’s just….been a minute.”

    I press a kiss to his forehead, “do you have something?”

   He smirks and we break apart for a moment. Grayson discards his boxers and fumbles through the table by his bed. My fingernails dig into his shoulders as I let myself slowly sink onto his length. 

   “Oh fuck,” Grayson moans. 

   He kisses down my chest, as I move on his length. He bites my lip, silencing the moan when he brings his thumb to circle my clit. Nibbling along my jaw and pushing me against the mattress. Mesmerized watching this abs tense and relax as he pounds into me, my hands wander over the taut planes. I nearly miss the adoration in Gray’s eyes when he lifts my chin, staring at me. He leans down for a messy kiss, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Grayson slows, groaning, suddenly rolling his hips at an agonizingly slow rhythm, a loud whine escapes me. Blond hair sticks to his forehead when he tucks his face against my neck, chuckling darkly. I push my hips upward, trying to meet his thrusts. He growls, sitting back and lifting them in a bruising grip. The perfect angle lets him thrust deeper until he hits the spot that has me seeing stars, gasping and grabbing at his forearms.

   Pressing my head back into the pillows, moaning, “so close, Gray.”

   My nails rake down his arms when I come undone, breath catching in a silent scream. Graysons nails dig into my waist, swearing as he loses himself in bliss, eyebrows scrunched. His hips jerk with shallow thrusts before finally stilling. “Can I just stay like this for a bit? I like how you feel around me.”

   I nod, still breathless and pull him to rest against my chest.

   “You’re perfection, little prince,” I pant, carding my fingers through his hair.

   Grayson hums in reply, tracing patterns on my chest. We lay there in silence until long after dark, before sliding apart. He catches my arm as I move to get up, light eyes pleading.

   “I’m not going far Gray,” I coo.

   Hesitantly, he lets go, watching my every move as I walk into his en suite and fill the tub. I stand in front of him, taking his hands in mine, “I’ll never leave you Grayson.”

   “Promise,” he asks.

   “Promise,” I press a kiss to his hand before leading him to sit behind me in the steaming water. 

   I lean back on his shoulder, caressing his arms wrapped loosely around mine. Savoring the closeness, Grayson presses kisses to the top of my head, murmuring sweet praises. When the water starts to cool, he wraps us in fluffy towels. Grayson reaches into the cupboard before having me sit on the edge of the tub. Vanilla and brown sugar invade my senses as he gently rubs lotion up my calf, periodically kissing along my leg.

  “Grayson, why do you have my favorite lotion in your bathroom,” I look at him expectantly.

   He moves to the other leg and slowly massages each arm, “Because I can, my flower.” He moves to pick me up, I wince when his hands graze my hips. Grayson cradles my face in his hands, panicked eyes searching mine, “Did I hurt you?”

   I grab his wrists, leaning back to see his full face, “I’m not made of glass, little prince.” 

   Satisfied, he scoops me up, pulling the covers back and unceremoniously dropping me in bed. I giggle, scooting over arms outstretched to him as he tucks the blankets around me, strong arms pulling me into his chest. “Sometimes,” I yawn, “I wish other people could see this side of you.”

 “You better not let anyone know I have a heart, flower,” Grayson kisses my forehead.

   I slowly drift to sleep, in the place where I was always meant to. No longer ships in the night, no more endless questions, just Grayson and I tangled in one another. Maybe Nash was right, in a sense, we weren’t good friends, we were home.

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

[inmyheaddd]

half asleep - grayson hawthorne x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@sweetlikeanangel @littlemissmentallyunstable @sheisntyou @emelia07

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle

[etclouie]

hey love, i’m really into tig at the moment. could i get the below prompt from the fluff section of the 150 dialogue prompts with tig

“you weren’t supposed to hear that!”

˚୨୧⋆｡ prompt/s; “you weren’t supposed to hear that” — from 150 prompts

˚୨୧⋆｡ warnings; established relationship, tig and reader have a son(he’s unnamed), first time mom reader, uh possible ooc tig??, kinda ended on a cliffhanger but that’s it i think

˚୨୧⋆。 a/n; this scene did something to me the first time i seen it

— thank you for celebrating 600 with me || submissions are now closed

Tig had come home earlier than you had expected, so he helped put your son to sleep while you cleaned up after dinner. 

it was rare that nights like these happened, with Tig always out late it usually meant you’d have dinner yourself along with putting your son to bed. 

but tonight was nice. 

having him home was always nice. 

once you’d finished cleaning up from dinner you moved throughout your house, steps slowing as you neared your sons room. 

Tigs voice catching your attention, followed by him saying your name. 

you stood just out of sight, listening to what he was saying. 

“love you ‘nd your mom kid”

“she’s something special, we’re both lucky”

he took a pause, and in a small fleeting moment of panic—you assumed he knew you were there. 

slowly you peeked your head through the doorway, eyes landing on Tig sat in the rocking chair in the corner with your son against his chest. 

the sight of both of them made your heart soar, always so caught up in the troubles the club brought that a moment like this felt like a gift. 

he hadn’t seen you, relief filling you as you continued to watch. Tig pressed a kiss to your son’s head before he continued on. 

“between me and you, ‘m gonna marry her kid. she’s real special, can’t afford to lose her”

at his admission, it felt as if everything stopped. your breath hitching before you stumbled ever so slightly, getting caught up in trying to stay hidden you knocked over something sat by the door. 

Tig’s eyes flicked up to you, and he stilled. you gave him an apologetic look as you moved closer, settling in the rocking chair next to him and wrapping your right arm around his neck. 

“i’m sorry,”

you apologised and he shook his head, he lifted his head and pressed a kiss to your lips. 

when he pulled back his eyes searched yours, one of his hands soothing across your sons back. 

“you weren’t supposed to hear that”

Tig told, his eyes staying on your face a minute before they fell to your son as he let out a yawn. you whispered another apology to him, brushing his hair out of his face in the process. 

you watched as Tig stood and set down your son in his crib, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before reaching for your hand. 

he pulled you out of the room and into his chest, holding you close and pressing another kiss to your lips before you whispered out. 

“can pretend i never heard that”

you tried, arms going around his neck as he walked you backwards towards your room. he sat you on the edge of the bed as he reached for his kutte that lay on the dresser. 

you watched as he pulled a box from one of the inner pockets of his kutte, and your breath hitched at the sight. 

“don’t pretend you never seen this, want the rest of my life with you”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hey friends, I'm once again begging you to give this series a go. It's mediocre but it will keep you entertained.

The Reaper and the Death Angel Masterlist.

You will not be able to read certain chapters in this series without all your Community labels turned to show.

Contains: The slowest burn, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence and graphic depictions of violence, so much fucking smut (in later chapters of course), mentions of child abuse, graphic descriptions of bullying, forensic science. OC is a chronic pain/migraine sufferer, there will be themes of this throughout the story. There will be more and I'll do my best to tag chapter by chapter, please don't hesitate to tell me if I've missed something.

You should expect that each chapter could have a bit of everything, if it's tagged it just means it's more than one sentence. More than one emoji dictates how graphic it is.

Smut💦 Angst😨 Fluff ❤ Violence🔪 Gore🤢 Medical/forensic💉 Triggering material🚩

Some of the chapters and snippets will be put to music, not listening to the music won't affect the story. Updates will vary, some days I might do two and other times I'll go a week without posting anything, there will be a time where I will open requests for snippets so you as the reader can have a piece of the universe I've cobbled together.

What's a snippet?

A snippet is an optional one-shot that adds context to the story and expands on some small themes that will appear throughout the story, not reading them won't affect the story but it will take away some of the more fluffy and/or mundane 'day in the life' elements.

Comment if you want to be tagged. Thank you so always for all your support. However, my tag list has been having issues so the best way to follow is to follow the tag #the reaper and the death angel.

You've spent most of your adult life in and out of war zones, and you've worked with the US military to identify terrorists and dead GIs. Sick of all the death and pain you chose to leave fieldwork and go back to historical research. When your little Brother leaves the Marines and settles in a small town, you decide to follow him. Will you find a home in your small, underfunded Musume job and your Brother's found family? Or will life with the Club just be another war zone?

Pre Season 1

Prologue

Part 1 ❤😨💉🔪

Part 2 ❤

Part 3 😨💉

Part 4

Part 5 ❤😨

Part 6 ❤😨🚩

Part 7 ❤

Part 8 ❤

Part 9 💉

Snippet 1 - The Lab💉

Season 1

Part 10 💉 🔪

Part 11 ❤😨💉

Part 12 🚩❤😨

Part 13 ❤😨💉🤢

Part 14 ❤❤❤💉

Part 15 ❤❤❤❤🔪🔪

Part 16🚩❤🤢(very mild)🔪

Snippet 2 - The Hand Model ❤

Part 17 ❤ ❤ ❤

Part 18 💦(discussion only)🚩(discussion only) ❤

Part 19 ❤ ❤ 🔪 💦

Part 20 ❤ ❤ ❤ 💦 💉

Part 21 ❤❤💦💦😨😨

Part 22 😨❤😨❤😨❤

Snippet 3 - The Siblings 🚩😨❤❤❤

Pre-season 2

Part 23 ❤❤❤💦💦💦💦💦💦

Part 24 💦💦❤ ❤ ❤

Season 2

Part 25 ❤❤💦💦😨🚩

Part 26 🔪🔪🔪🚩😨😨💦❤💦❤💦

Part 27 ❤❤💦💦😨💦

Part 28 😨💦❤💦❤😨🚩🔪

Part 29 ❤❤😨😨

Part 30 ❤❤😨🚩

Snippet 4 - The Charming Gazette ❤

Part 31❤😨🚩❤💦❤🔪

Part 32🔪❤🚩😨🤢💉

Season 3

Part 33 ❤❤🔪

Part 34❤💦🚩😨

Part 35💉🤢😨❤💦💦❤

Part 36 😨❤

Part 37 😨❤🔪💦❤

Part 38😨💦❤🔪

Pre Season 4

Part 39😨❤

Season 4

Part 40 😨💦❤ ❤ ❤

Part 41 😨😨😨💦❤ ❤

Part 42 😨💦❤😨

Part 43 😨❤😨❤🔪🚩

Part 44 😨❤😨❤💦

Pre-season 5

Part 45 😨❤😨❤❤❤

Part 46🔪😨❤❤

Season 5

Part 47 ❤😨😨💉❤❤😨

Part 48 😨💉😨😨❤❤💦

Part 49😨❤❤💦

Part 50😨❤❤💦

Part 51😨😨❤

Part 52😨❤❤💦

Part 53😨🔪❤❤💦

Part 54😨🔪❤😨

Post season 5.

Part 55 ❤💦❤💦😨

Part 56😨😨❤❤🚩

Part 57😨❤🚩💦❤😨

Part 58😨💉❤😨💉❤🤢

Part 59💦😨❤

Snippet 5 - The Lesson I😨🔪😨🔪❤❤

One-shots

I'll Be Taking This Back💦❤

Trapped💦💦❤ ❤ ❤

The Weight of the World 💦💦💦💦❤ ❤

Lint and Gunpowder Part 1 ❤ ❤ Part 2💦💦❤ ❤

Beast of Prey❤💦💦💦❤

Run💦❤

Patience is a Virtue💦❤

Or Else💦❤

Concept Drawings

The Greenhouse

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine?

Summary: Grayson's world is about to turn upside down.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehe

•○🌑○•

Grayson sighed, rubbing at his brows.

"So you're telling me we need to get Y/n's approval for this project?"

"Yes." Aaron Galathynius stared Grayson down until he looked away, frustrated.

"But she is missing. She won't answer my calls, and you refuse to give me her location. What am I supposed to do?"

Grayson was sure that even if she hadn't been ignoring him like her life depended on it, she would have rejected the idea without even considering.

Galathynius gave him an unamused glance before turning to the papers spread on the table. "You do know that's my daughter you're talking about."

Grayson refrained from letting him know exactly who he was talking to. That without Grayson's grandfather, the Galathynius family would still be some nobody business, hoping desperately to make it.

But he only stopped himself only because he was friends with Aaron's daughter and would do anything to talk to her again, and fighting with her father was probably the fastest way to make sure she never talked to him again.

Grayson sighed again, picking up his coat and shoving his arms through. "Call me when you are ready to answer my questions, and maybe we can proceed."

Turning, Grayson stalked over to the glass doors and stormed out, letting them swing shut behind him.

Once in his car, Grayson pulled out his phone, staring at her contact name. She would not pick up, Grayson knew. She would leave it ringing just like she had been doing over the past year.

But still, trying to contact her was better than wondering about what he had done wrong for his best friend to ignore him so.

So he tapped his screen, and stared until the call cut off by itself after ringing for a good few minutes.

Grayson sighed, turning to stare out the window at the scenery that passed by.

Gray knew sleeping with her was a bad idea, but he hadn't been thinking. He hadn't thought that it would get this serious when he refused to apologise.

But he'd just found out about Eve's betrayal a few hours before Y/n had visited him in his bedroom and he wasn't really thinking, and that led to things escalating faster than Grayson could understand. And the next thing he knew, he stared down at her limp and spent form in horror, sated with the pleasure he had delivered.

She had smiled at him softly before she realised he did not look happy. Then she had shot up, reaching out for him. He leaned back, staring at her before stumbling out of bed. He could see her heart breaking, but he could not let himself think too much about the fact that he was the reason she got hurt.

"This was a mistake."

He'd mumbled out the three words that had broken the friendship that the two of them shared, and as he walked away towards his wardrobe to clean up, he could have sworn he had heard her curse him.

Heard her heart shattering.

But he could not bring himself to care as he hurriedly put on clothes. When he'd stepped out, she was nowhere to be seen, the clothes he had ripped off her body and discarded haphazardly on the ground gone, the only thing left behind her lingering scent.

He had seen her once after that, coming out of his mother's house when he went to visit her regarding something about the foundation. She'd had tears in her eyes and her arms wrapped around her body, as if to protect herself. He had tried to talk, but of course, he had been ignored.

Now, as the Hawthorne house rolled into view, Grayson told himself what he was about to do was not wrong. That this decision was for the best.

"Zabrowski? I need you to find someone for me."

•○🌑○•

The apartment complex looked posh, but it was nothing compared to what Grayson was used to. Still, he had to give it to Y/n. She had always been good at picking out the perfect things.

Grayson stared at the elevator door, making sure he did not let his anticipation and nervousness show as he neared the fifteenth floor, where Y/n had taken residence in according to Zabrowski.

Zabrowski had also mumbled something about a child in passing, but Grayson had forgotten all about it until a few hours ago.

As the elevator doors dinged open and Grayson stepped out, he wondered if Y/n had finally found someone. Wondered if she had stopped just having hopeless crushes and actually acted on her feelings for whoever, that maybe she was now pregnant as he rang the bell of apartment 1502.

He got his answers the moment the door in front of him opened, and out peeked the head of his best friend.

"Y/n."

Her name escaped him on a thin exhale, a weird feeling spreading through Grayson's chest. He watched as her lips parted in shock, her eyes only widening a fraction.

"Grayson?"

He dared to smile at her. "It's me-"

A loud cry broke the moment between the two, and Grayson's interest piqued when Y/n whipped around, letting go of the door as she ran towards where the sound was coming from.

Grayson knew it was wrong of him to push the door open and look for himself. but he could not help the curiosity.

He watched as the simple white button up shirt she was wearing puffed a little with air, her leg muscles flexing and contracting as she moved, stared as her shirt rode up a little to show the denim shorts she was wearing.

He watched as she ran towards the couch set in front of a wall of glass, looking out over the forest of buildings, and bent to...

Pick up a baby.

Looking at her cooing softly at the child was a shock to Grayson's system as she had always said that she did not want kids, or at least not until she had seen the whole world and was far older.

Grayson was damn sure she could not have seen the world in just one year, so either she had changed plans, or the baby was unexpected.

Grayson also knew he had been her first time.

Horror spread through his chest when Y/n turned around a little, smiling down at the... blonde baby with grey eyes wearing a cute litte pink onesie, who giggled back at Y/n. Her mother.

Grayson could not take his eyes off of the child, and it was a long moment before Y/n turned to him fully, her eyes widening.

Grayson finally glanced up, meeting his best friend's eyes. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, his eye stinging.

"Mine?"

Y/n did not reply, stalking over to the door and slamming it shut in his face. The loud crash echoed in the empty hallway, the sound deafening, heartbreaking.

But Grayson did not pay it much attention, the only thing ringing in his ears his own voice asking the question and the unsaid answer.

Mine?

Mine.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist (only tagging people who i either know read these books or people who sked to be tagged in everything 😉) : @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @berryzxx

[adddddiiii]

Could you pls write a grandma x reader where the reader relapses and cuts herself again and grayson sees her and she's scared of him seeing because she thought that he might judge her and leave her? Thankd<3

Relapse (Grayson vers.)

Contents: Grayson Hawthorne x gn!reader

Warnings: Mentions of scars, self-harm, relapse, slight angst

It had been a hard week, one of those stretches where the weight of everything felt unbearable. You thought you were doing better, thought you’d put those days behind you. But when the emotions became too much, when the ache inside grew sharper than you could handle, you relapsed.

Afterward, the shame came rushing in like a tidal wave, leaving you to drown in it. But you did what you always did: buried it. You pulled your sleeves down and told yourself no one would notice. Not even Grayson.

He came over that evening, unannounced but welcome as always, bringing takeout and his quiet, steady presence. You weren’t sure if he knew how much you relied on that steadiness, how often it kept you grounded when you felt yourself spiraling.

“Movie night?” he asked while setting the food on the counter and glancing at you with a small smile.

You nodded, forcing a smile back. “Sure. I’ll grab the blankets.”

For the first hour, everything seemed normal. You sat curled up on the couch together, sharing fries and trading quiet remarks about the film. But as the night went on, you could feel his eyes lingering on you — subtle, careful, but observant as ever.

“Are you okay?” he asked at one point.

“Yeah, just tired,” you replied, waving him off.

He didn’t press, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

When you stood to grab another drink, your sleeve caught on the corner of the table, pulling up just enough to expose the fresh marks on your arm. You froze, yanking it back down, but not before Grayson saw.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and steady, the way he always spoke when he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

“It’s nothing,” you blurted out. Panic rose in your chest as you turned away from him. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, standing and taking a step closer.

“I said I’m fine, Grayson.” You tried to move away, but he caught your wrist—not hard, not forcefully, just enough to stop you.

“Please don’t shut me out,” he murmured.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you bit your lip, shaking your head. “I didn’t want you to see.”

“Why?” his voice broke slightly. “Because you think I’d judge you?”

You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. The shame was too much, twisting in your stomach like a knife.

Grayson’s grip on your wrist loosened, and he gently turned you to face him. “Look at me,” he said quietly.

You hesitated before meeting his gaze. His gray eyes were full of concern, not judgment, not disgust—just raw, unfiltered care.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to think I’m weak."

“Y/N,” his tone was firm but impossibly gentle. “I don’t think that. Not for a second.”

You looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “I thought I was doing better. I didn’t want you to see how bad it’s gotten.”

Grayson reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, just above where your sleeve covered the scars. “You don’t have to hide this from me,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and before you knew it, you were in his arms. He held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested against your back, anchoring you to him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured again, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Stop apologizing,” his lips brushed against your hair. “You’re not weak, not even close. You’re human, and you’re hurting, and I want to help—if you’ll let me.”

You nodded against him, clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he said quietly. “I’m here. No matter how hard it gets, I’m here.”

For the first time in days, the weight on your chest felt just a little lighter. And in his arms, you let yourself believe that maybe you could start to heal, one step at a time, with him by your side.