lyrakanefanaticwriting

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

AWWWWWWEEEE DONT EVEN YOU’RE TOO KINDDDD 💞💞💞💞xxxx

⬆️⬆️⬆️ me after seeing ur reblog 🥹💗💗💗

Unserious Comments, Serious Conclusions

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synopsis: lyra and grayson attend a gala, the couple enjoying their time there greatly. but then a guy comes along, making insinuating and rather disgusting comments about lyra’s body. in the moment, grayson defends lyra verbally. but later on… he doesn’t use his words so much.

warning: insinuating comments, catcalling, physical fights

tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread @angelnextdooor @sweet-girl-in-cabin-13

authors note: this fic was requested in august. of 2024. but i finally got around to writing it so pls dont kill me 🙏

ALSO GUYS THERE IS A GLORIOUS RIVALS SPOILER IN HERE!!! so please proceed with caution

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LYRA:

Lyra was, honestly, having a good time. The band was playing old 70’s songs, nothing like what she’d ever heard at a gala before, but still very nice to listen to. The champagne they were seving seemed crisper than usual. And the atmosphere?

The atmosphere was, for once, truly good. There were no half smiles, no bored looks. It was bustling. Everybody seemed to be having a good time.

Well, except for Grayson.

Lyra smiled at Grayson across the room, who seemed to be being bored to death by a finance bro who just didn’t understand when there was a time and place for work talk.

Lyra couldn’t help but laugh as he sent a look her way that screamed, “I’m about to fall asleep”, as she turned to walk towards the bar and order a drink.

And that’s when she saw him.

A tall guy, in simply a dress shirt, tie, and slacks, stalking over to her. His smirk was too carefree, his eyes too wandering.

Lyra knew what he came over to her for.

Straightening, Lyra put on her imaginary battle gear, desperately trying to avoid the urge to simply… walk away.

“Hey there,” he greeted simply, asking the bartender to get him a ‘scotch neat’. Ugh, he’s one of those, Lyra thought.

“Hello.” Lyra replied politely, taking a sip of her drink once the bartender handed her it. The guy took his as well, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sidle up closer.

It was slight, but it was still there.

“My names Trevor. And I already know yours, of course.” he said, smiling. “You’re the beautiful Lyra Kane.” Lyra smiled, but it was thin, fleeting, and utterly fake.

“Hm. I guess so.” she agreed, her tone cordial.

“Y’know, I can’t help but think how sad it is that you didn’t win the Grandest Game. I mean, after all you did, isn’t that disappointing?” he crooned, dipping his head down to look at her. Lyra narrowed her eyes at him absentmindedly.

“After all I did?” Lyra questioned, her tone trying to be polite. Trevor winked at her.

“Grayson Hawthorne.” he said, as if that explained everything. Lyra’s eyes met her boyfriends across the room, and saw that he was already watching her. His hand was gripped around a flute of champagne, his eyes dark and dangerous as he watched her talk to the man. Grayson seemed to be communicating one thing and one thing only from across the room: he needs to get away from you.

Lyra swallowed, looking away—and then Trevor’s comment hit her in the face. What he said, what he meant—

Lyra looked up at him with angry shock, and he just laughed.

“Oh, c’mon! I’m sure Grayson got a little lonely managing that game. You kept him company. Just sucks you didn’t get that money in the end.” Trevor joked, taking a sip from his ‘neat scotch’.

Lyra considered throttling him.

The only reason she didn’t was because she did a quick breathing exercise, and concluded that she’d probably break a nail if she tried to strangle him.

Then again, she could break her real nails, and it’d still be worth it.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lyra angrily gritted out, gripping her drink. Trevor laughed again, only making Lyra want to slug him more.

“Don’t cause a scene, honey. Rumours fly fast. You raise your voice even a little, and that’s what you’re known for around here.” he said, before laughing again and continuing. “Also, sure I don’t. Innocent Lyra Kane steps into the game and lays her eyes on Grayson Hawthorne, man who’s practically made of money. I don’t judge you though. Or him, for that matter,” His eyes trailed down her body, making Lyra’s eyes narrow at him with annoyance and disgust. Then he reached out and slipped a finger through one of the straps of her dress, making her freeze with repulse and fear. “I too wouldn’t be able to resist against a body like yours.”

There was a split second where Lyra froze—unsure whether to fight his hand off of her or try her best to deal with this in a way that wouldn’t cause a scene, when, in a flash, she spotted a figure in her peripheral vision.

Grayson.

“You want to get your hand off of her?” he asked, stepping in front of Lyra. His words were barely an actual question; any body with eyes and ears could tell what he really meant: keep touching her, and you’ll see what happens. With Grayson turned slightly, Lyra could see his face—angry, no, furious as he stared at the man. His jaw was more tense than Lyra had ever seen it, like hard granite, and Lyra saw then that the rest of his body was too.

Trevor got his hand off of her.

“Relax, man,” Trevor recovered quickly, smiling at Grayson as if trying to regain some of his dignity.

“Step away from her,” Grayson started, pulling Lyra closer to him—or, behind him—by the waist. “and then maybe I’ll relax.”

The dick put his hands up, taking a step back.

“We were just chatting. Isn’t that right, Lyra?” Trevor asked, winking at her. Lyra tensed from her spot more than slightly behind Grayson, not wanting to be shielded out of sight, but also not wanting to talk to this asshole anymore.

“Sure.” Lyra gritted out, her smile venomous. He laughed then, like her anger was something that was just hilarious.

“Alright. See you around, Lyra.” Trevor said, not even bothering to say another word to Grayson before stalking off, his hands in his pockets. Grayson’s arm tensed around her waist, before he turned to her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft despite his dark eyes—not for her, but for Trevor.

Human dog shit. Frat boy fucker.

Lyra could think of 10 more names just off the top of her head.

“I’m fine.” Lyra said, exhaling. Grayson tilted his head at her, his eyes sparking with anger.

“What did he say to you, Lyra?” Grayson asked, his tone low and dangerous. Lyra shook her head.

“Nothing, really.” she lied, hearing his words reverberate in her head.

Don’t cause a scene, honey.

Rumours fly fast.

You raise your voice even a little, and that’s what you’re known for around here.

She didn’t care much for her reputation, but she knew that Grayson did. If she caused a scene, that would backfire on him. And if she told him what Trevor really said…

Grayson Hawthorne wouldn’t hold back from destroying him in every way possible, brutally and publicly.

So, Lyra refrained.

“He was just bothering me with questions,” Lyra said, the words not exactly being a lie. “That was all.”

Grayson didn’t look convinced.

“If he told you something that he shouldn’t have…” Grayson trailed off dangerously, letting Lyra fill in the dots. Lyra smiled, brushing a stray hair behind Grayson’s ear.

“I’d tell you.”

GRAYSON:

She’d tell me. If that asshole said something, she’d tell me, Grayson’s mind repeated for the millionth time. Lyra said that herself.

So why did Grayson feel so doubtful?

If Lyra was hiding this from him, it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him. It was because of something bigger.

So naturally, Grayson went looking for the pervert who was talking to her earlier.

He seemingly disappeared from the gala. Somewhere in the bathrooms, maybe, or maybe he just decided to take his leave.

But most of the guests had left by now, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

Grayson’s eyes scanned the now much more empty room, searching for him again, when Lyra groaned beside him.

“Gray. That guy left already. I told you, you don’t need to worry about him.” Lyra said, pulling his attention to her.

Lyra was good at doing that; sneaking up on him in the corners of his mind, stealing his glances as well as his breath, becoming the one sole thing he wished to gaze upon day and night for the rest of his life.

Focus. He had to focus. Regain control, and not let beauty reincarnate beside Grayson take it from him.

“Who said I was looking for him?” Grayson quipped, raising a brow at her. Lyra looked unimpressed.

“You’re tense. You have been tense for the entire night, just like how your eyes have been scanning the room for him the entire night too. Relax, Grayson. Trevor’s gone, and I guarantee you that you scared him off.” Lyra said, laughing. Trevor. So that was the perverts name. Grayson’s lips twitched.

“Hopefully scared him off to a faraway country. I don’t want him in 50 feet proximity of you.” Grayson said, annoyed at just the memory of that bastard touching Lyra’s dress. He wanted to break his hand in half right then and there.

“Sure, sure.” Lyra said, smiling that smile that never failed to make his heart catch as she laid a palm flat on his chest. Then she frowned. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to discuss something with Avery and Alisa after the event?” Grayson’s eyebrows raised.

“Right. Alisa wanted to discuss something with Avery and I regarding the proceeds from the Hannah the Same Backwards as Forwards charity.” Grayson recalled, glancing from his watch. 8:43, it read.

“Here,” Grayson said, pulling out his car keys from his pocket and handing them to Lyra. “She said she was going to keep us a little while. Why don’t you drive home, maybe get a movie started, and then I’ll come home and we can watch something?” Lyra’s eyes brightened.

“Only if we watch 13 Going On 30.” she quipped, a smile gracing her face. Grayson exhaled exasperatedly, although there was a smile on his too.

“For the hundredth time? Sure, why not.” Grayson said. Lyra grinned, stepping closer and raising her head. Grayson tilted his down, a hand on her waist as their lips touched. The kiss was slow, delicate, and it drew on for longer than it should’ve.

Longer than what was appropriate, anyway.

Finally they separated, Lyra smiling and pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Bye, Gray.” she said.

“Bye, sweetheart. See you in a bit.” Grayson said, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled, before turning and walking off. Grayson watched her go, until she was out the doors and staring any longer would make him look downright crazy. He huffed out a breath, walking towards the bar and seeing the bartender was still there.

“A whiskey, please.” Grayson asked. The bartender nodded, making his drink. Then, once it was poured and the man was handing it to Grayson, the bartender spoke.

“Hey, you’re Grayson Hawthorne, right?” The man asked, his voice accented and gruff. Grayson nodded.

“That’s me.”

“That girl you’re with—is she okay? I heard this guy talking to her, said some filthy things. I was going to say something, but then I saw you coming over here, and figured that guy was bound to get chewed up anyway.” he said. Grayson froze, anger coursing through his body.

“Filthy things?” Grayson gritted out, picturing that fucker leaning over Lyra, saying something to her that made her eyes flash with anger. He should have walked over and beat the shit out of him right then and there. “Like what?”

“Like how she slept her way into the game. And how he didn’t blame her for doing so, or you for engaging, because he too “wouldn’t be able to resist against a body like hers”.” The man said, his eyes narrowing. “And then he had the audacity to tell her not to make a scene. Not to mention him putting his hands on her, but you saw that.”

Grayson was frozen. His body was tense, his fists clenched at his side. Suddenly, he tossed back the whiskey, slamming the glass down, every movement furious. That’s why Lyra lied, Grayson thought, his teeth gritting down so hard it hurt, she didn’t want to make a scene. That bastard told her not to.

Grayson was going to kill him.

“Have fun!” the bartender called out as Grayson stalked away without another word, clearly knowing what he was going to do.

He walked the length of the hall, his body tense and coursing with anger as he went to go and find every last bit of information on that Trevor bitch and destroy him—and froze.

There, outside, through the glass doors of one of the exits, he saw him.

Trevor.

The bastard was laughing with two other guys, probably both assholes like him, while he leaned against the brick wall of the building, looking smug.

Grayson didn’t think. He slammed through the doors, walking up towards Trevor with lightning speed. Once Trevor saw him approach, he saw how his appearance shifted—he tried to maintain a smirk, but his eyes swirled with something like fear.

You shouldn’t be afraid of what I’m doing Trevor, Grayson thought, his mind burning with rage.

You should be afraid of what I’m going to do.

“Trevor,” Grayson greeted, his voice nothing short of dangerous—and purposefully so. “You mind talking alone?”

That wasn’t a request. And from the look on Trevors face, he knew that.

“Sure,” he replied, trying to look at ease—and failing. He looked towards the two other guys with him. “You guys go to that bar. I’ll catch up.”

The two looked at each other, clearly sensing trouble, before nodding and walking across the street, the alley dark despite a couple yellow streetlights.

Grayson looked at Trevor. Really looked at him. He wanted that asshole to be afraid, to feel the rage that was drowning Grayson.

“It seems you’ve said some things,” Grayson said, letting the words—the mystery of them, what Grayson heard or what he didn’t—hang in the air. “Care to elaborate?”

Trevor laughed. “So I flirted with your girl.” he said, grinning as if it were all a big joke. “That’s not much different than what she does. Putting her body on display with dresses like that; that must annoy you, huh?”

So Trevor thought that he knew Grayson. That he could relate to him in any way.

That he could talk about Lyra like that.

Grayson smiled, let Trevor think that he was on his side.

Then Grayson stepped forward, and punched him across the face.

Trevor cried out, his back hitting the wall. But Grayson didn’t stop there.

He punched him again; this time aiming for his stomach. The bastard wheezed, clutching his stomach and doubling over.

“What the hell! It was just a comment, man!” he exploded, wheezing and gasping. “It wasn’t even serious.”

“That may not have been serious. But this?” Grayson said, stepping forward dangerously and pulling the man forward by his collar.

“This,” he started calmly, his smile truly dangerous, “is serious.”

Then he sent another punch flying to his face.

Trevor tried grappling back, blocking his head while grabbing for Grayson, but it was no use. Trevor was useless, Grayson knew that, but he was even more useless when fighting. Grayson had him down instantly, his fists flying towards the bastards face.

Trevor managed to get a hit in at Grayson’s jaw, but Grayson was quick to return one, faster and much more brutal than his originally was.

He wanted to make him hurt. He wanted to beat Trevor until he was unconscious. But the only reason he didn’t was because he could just picture what Lyra would say.

“You wanted to teach him a lesson. But this?” he imagined her saying, her mind on the news of the fight while her eyes would seem deep with anger and regret. “This was too far.”

And he knew she’d be right; he desperately wanted to go too far, to beat Trevor until he was as disgusting on the outside as he was on the inside, but he refrained.

Just barely.

Grayson dropped him suddenly, stepping backwards and adjusting his suit. He glanced at Trevor, his expression cold and distant.

Trevor would be fine; no serious breaks or injuries, despite Grayson desperately wanting to give him a couple, but his face would be badly bruised.

But even that was enough. His dignity would be shattered, his ego dividing in size, and Trevor wouldn’t even think of slithering back to Lyra’s side ever again.

Or, Grayson thought, any woman. At least not until his pride flares up again.

But Grayson knew men like Trevor well enough to know that that would take a while.

“You cunt,” Trevor said, sitting up and spitting out blood. “You absolute fucker.” His eyes flashed with hatred, insecurity, fear, and Grayson pitied Trevor for being so pathetic.

“Next time,” he continued, his words garbled as his hand cradled his jaw. “I’ll hit on your girl when you’re not around.”

Grayson didn’t freeze. He didn’t tense. All he did was step closer, leaning down towards Trevor.

And that was all it took for the son of a bitch to flinch.

“Next time,” Grayson promised, his voice low and tone dangerous despite the smile on his face. “I break your jaw.”

Trevor’s mouth twitched. He looked like he considered saying something else—but changed his mind. He slowly rose to his feet, hesitantly, before shooting Grayson a glare and taking off.

Grayson watched him shoot across the street, knowing that the asshole wouldn’t dare come close to Lyra again.

Suddenly, Grayson’s phone rang. Alisa.

Grayson muttered a curse, before answering it. “Hello?” Grayson said.

“You’re late,” Alisa replied, her version of a greeting. Grayson sighed.

“Yeah, Alisa, I won’t be able to make it. Somethings come up.” Grayson said, glancing at his knuckles that were a deep red shade. Shit.

“Something came up at nearly 9:00 PM?” Alisa repeated, her tone unimpressed.

“Sorry. Avery will fill me in tomorrow, okay? I have to go.” Grayson said. Alisa was about to say something else when Grayson hung up, sliding his phone into his pocket. He glanced at his knuckles again, red and beginning to bleed, and let out a stream of curses.

Lyra was going to kill him.

Grayson got out of the cab, walking up to the house and mentally preparing himself for what Lyra was going to say. Still, he knew that he wouldn’t regret beating Trevor.

That son of a bitch deserved it, no matter how much Lyra disagreed.

Grayson knocked on the door, wincing as his knuckles began to hurt even more. Lyra opened it, smiling at Grayson.

And then her eyes dropped to his hands, and her smile disappeared.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. Because in a flash, she was grabbing Grayson by the collar and shoving him inside. And Grayson?

Grayson feared for his life.

“I cannot believe you!” Lyra exploded for the third time, pushing Grayson onto the couch before continuing to stomp across the house. “Getting in a fight. Who cares about that idiot, Grayson?”

“I care.” Grayson said, running a hand through his hair. “Not about that bastard, Lyra, but about you!”

At this, Lyra finally froze, her shoulders moving up and down with each breath, before she started walking again. She was gone for a good minute, before she returned holding bandages, scissors, what looked to be rubbing alcohol, and a bag of cotton pads, the circular ones Lyra uses to remove her makeup. Lyra took Grayson’s hand in hers, surveying the damage—and wincing. But she didn’t say a word. All she did was pour some rubbing alcohol on the cotton, before dabbing it over his knuckles.

The alcohol stung, but didn’t bother Grayson much. All he could focus on was Lyra. Her gentleness, her care, her focus as she cleaned up his knuckles and then bandaged them, no matter how angry she was.

“Stop looking at me.” Lyra said, finally cutting into the silence but at the same time not sparing Grayson a glance. Grayson raised a brow, his gaze focused entirely on her.

“Why not, sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his voice soft. Lyra still didn’t look up.

“Because you’re no longer allowed.” she replied simply. Grayson couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m not?” he asked. Lyra still didn’t look at him as she cut the bandages and tied it up around his knuckles.

“No. You’re also no longer allowed to call me sweetheart, so don’t bother.” Lyra said, her tone firm. He smiled at her, and knew then that Lyra’s beauty would never diminish. Not in a pair of shorts and a tiny tank top, not with her gaze turned downwards, refusing to look Grayson in the eye, not even when she was livid at him.

She would always be enchanting. Grayson knew this like he knew the back of his hand, the ABC’s—it was an undeniable fact.

“Hm. So what am I allowed to do then, your Highness?” Grayson pondered, his lips quirked upwards. Lyra dropped the hand she was working on and moved onto the other.

“Nothing.” she said firmly. Grayson raised a brow.

“Nothing?”

“Mhm.”

He would see about that. Lyra just started to dab the rubbing alcohol onto his knuckles, when Grayson leaned forward, kissing the nape of Lyra’s neck. He heard her breath catch, and saw her freeze before continuing.

She was ignoring him.

But Grayson refused to be ignored for long.

He continued pressing kisses to her neck, trailing them up to her jaw, inhaling her vanilla-rose scent.

Lyra finally broke.

She grabbed Grayson by the jaw, pulling him off her neck. Lyra shot him a glare, and then she was pulling him in for a kiss.

Grayson finally felt the satisfaction of her lips on his, kissing her back, deepening it—and then all he felt was the absence of her as she drew back.

“I said nothing,” Lyra said, her lips quirked with satisfaction. “And I meant nothing. Now sit still, and let me finish this hand.”

Grayson leaned his head back, finally giving in to the tornado that was Lyra Kane. Lyra continued to work, cutting the bandages before tying it, and then just like that, both his hands were done.

Lyra was pissed at him.

She yelled at him.

Lectured him.

Called him many things that should not be repeated in a 10 mile radius of children.

And yet here she was, checking his hands to make sure she had fixed them up properly.

Once she was done with those, Lyra finally looked up at him. Grayson didn’t realize how much he had missed the golden light that were her eyes until they were cast upon him.

“Why did you do it, Grayson?” Lyra questioned, her brows furrowed. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. I didn’t want to ruin your reputation. I didn’t want to—“

“Lyra.” Grayson said, cutting her off with desperation in his tone. “Do you think I care about any of that? Do you think I care about causing scenes, and ruining my reputation? I don’t care. I’ll ruin it a million times over if it means defending you. That bastard—he said things about you that are unforgivable. He touched you without your permission. I know you, Lyra Catalina Kane. I know you would have been able to hit him much harder than I did, if you wanted to. And I know you don’t think you need defending.” Grayson pulled her closer, resting his forehead on hers. “But I will always defend you. Until I die and beyond that, I will defend you, not because you need it, but because you deserve it. You deserve to be respected, and I’ll make that clear a thousand times over if I have to.”

Lyra froze, her eyes widening as she stared at Grayson, the look in her eyes no longer angry, but now bordering on soft.

“I don’t need your protection, Grayson.” Lyra said, drawing back slightly. Grayson took her hand in his bandaged one, pressing a slow and gentle kiss to it.

“Maybe not, sweetheart. But you’ll always have it.” Grayson said, his voice gentle. Then his lips tilted. “Can I look at you now?” Lyra considered that.

“Hm. No.” she said flatly, turning away from him.

“Can I call you sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his smile widening.

“No.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.”

Then Grayson laughed, and his attention turned to the shorts Lyra was wearing, the ones that were currently riding up on her legs. He grazed a finger over her thigh, knowing just what he wanted to ask next.

“Can I-“

“No.”

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okay yall another post fic yap but was the fight scene too much?? Idk ive never really condoned violence or found it attractive whatsoever, so i truly wanted to make this guy a pervert and Graysons actions not so brutal (still, hes a hawthorne AND protective, gotta be a little brutal) just to try and downplay it the best i could?? Idk just tell me how yall felt!!

I hope u enjoyed it <33

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

A Rough Beginning, Now a Blossoming Friendship

synopsis: when the grandest game contestants are presented with the opportunity to go back home, lyra knows that with her situation—with grayson, with the hawthornes, with alice—she has to take it. now, 2 weeks later, grayson’s brothers pay her a visit, giving not only lyra the closure she needed—but also the ability to feel like, for once, the weight of the world isnt on her shoulders.

warnings: light angst, not much else

tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread @angelnextdooor @sweet-girl-in-cabin-13 @ria-lina @no1lyrakanedefender

Lyra snapped her shears around another weed, watching it fall to the ground. Each cut felt monotonous, dull—but maybe that was how Lyra preferred it. Maybe she just wasn’t cut out for other-worldly things.

Not other-worldly games.

Not other-worldly money.

And surely not other-worldly love.

Now, she was back at Miles End. Her father insisted that he would never let her drop out of college, let alone take a year off to work—but when he saw her after she had came back from Hawthorne Island?

Lyra was aware of the dullness in her eyes; she just didn’t realize how aware others were of it till her father drew back from her face with a pitying look in his eyes.

So, he let her. Because even Keith Kane was afraid of what would happen if he said otherwise.

The words other-worldly love began to ring through her brain, making her shears snap around the weeds faster.

“Contestants may take their leave in the next 24 hours,” a voice boomed from the room they had gathered in.

Snap. Another weed fell.

A packed bag with Lyra’s belongings. A letter she had left on Grayson’s bed. She wasn’t coming back, and that was enough to prove it.

Snap.

A voice called out behind Lyra, making her pause just before stepping onto the helicopter, and turning to see him. Her Hawthorne, brave and beautiful and true in all his ways. In one hand, held the suit jacket Lyra had finally given back.

In the other, held the letter.

Snap.

“Don’t do this, Lyra,” he pleaded, stepping closer, the wind and rain seemingly meaning nothing to him. Not while Lyra was standing here, her things packed, her heart packed up with them.

Snap.

“It’s not going to work. I thought, if it were just with my father, it would.” Lyra answered, her tears beginning to mingle with the rain. Her lips trembled. “But it’s not. It’s Alice. It’s—“ she doesn’t want to say it. She doesn’t want to say that the other reason she cannot stay is because of the same people who Grayson cherished most in the world. Because of the same person who Grayson cherished most in the world

And, from the look on his face, she didn’t have to.

Snap.

“No. No, no, no Lyra, I can talk to them. I will talk to Jameson, too. Believe me, this isn’t permanent.” Grayson pleaded, reaching out to grab her arm. Not in a rough manner. Never. Just enough to ground her.

But his touch was no longer meant to ground Lyra, so she pulled away.

Snap.

“I’m sorry, Grayson.” Lyra said, her voice soft and broken as he stepped away from him, trying to be strong against the fierce hurt in his eyes. She shook her head, walking away. “I’m sorry”—

Her trance gets cut off by a loud shout coming from the woods.

Lyra catches her breath, dropping the sheers as she crouched to the ground a put an arm over her eyes. She hadn’t meant to cry, but catching herself crying without meaning to was becoming a more normal affair nowadays.

She breathed. In and out, and listened for the call again.

There was another shout. Lyra finally got up, stalking closer to the woods, quitting her spot behind Mile’s End and coming closer to the front.

There, she could hear the screams better.

“Marco!” A voice—an oddly familiar voice—bellowed, and just as he did, a few other voices joined in. By tone alone, Lyra could tell they were berating him, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

And then it clicked.

By the third, “marco”, she realized why the voice was familiar. It belonged to Xander Hawthorne’s.

Maybe Lyra was fooling herself. Maybe her solitude at Mile’s End had begun to deal her head in.

…but what was so bad about playing along?

“Polo!” Lyra shouted, hands cupping her mouth. There was silence, before she heard light shuffling deep into the words.

“Marco!” the voice—presumably Xander Hawthorne—shouted back.

“Polo!”

It continued on, with the voice—who Lyra knew by now was definitely Xander—continuing to call out “Marco” until he was close enough to Mile’s End to see it.

And then Lyra watched 3 boys step out of the woods and into the clear path, it being impossible not to recognize them now—Nash, Xander, and Jameson Hawthorne.

They stopped a good 6 feet short of her, seemingly surveying her, and Lyra wondered what they saw: a girl who’s hair was put in a long, messy braid, clad in a flannel and jeans, hands covered in dirt, which was a reflection of Lyra’s father, who claimed that wearing gloves while participating in yard work was quote-unquote “unnatural”. Or maybe they saw what lingered underneath, a girl who played make believe in dresses and gowns on an island that was never meant for her.

But then again, she didn’t really care what they thought of her. She’d made the mistake of caring before, but she wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Do you want to come inside?” Lyra asked, surprising herself with the cool dullness in her tone. They all shared a quick look, before Nash spoke, a smile on his face.

“Sure, darlin’.”

Lyra finished washing her hands, drying her hands before turning to the coffee pot. “Coffee?” she called out to the three boys who were currently sitting on her couch. They all replied differently, Nash’s answer being a “yes please, darlin’”, Jameson’s being a simple—and cold— “yes”, and Xander’s being an unsure nod.

She came back to the table with a tray holding two coffees and a glass of chocolate milk.

Lyra set the two coffees before Nash and Jameson, before setting the chocolate milk in front of Xander and watching his eyes light up. Finally, Lyra felt her lips twitch. It wasn’t a smile, not necessarily, but it was something.

“Yeah, my brother likes chocolate milk too.” Lyra says, before sinking down onto the chair beside the couch. Xander barely seemed to acknowledge her words, gulping down the chocolate milk before setting it down on the table.

“Thank you, dear Lyra.” Xander appraised, doing a mock bow down to her. Lyra snorted.

“You’re very welcome.” Lyra replied. There was a short silence after that. Lyra fiddled with her fingers, eyes cast down, before Nash spoke.

“So,” Nash offered up, breaking into the silence and Lyra’s thoughts. “Max visited.”

Lyra’s brows furrowed. “Max?”

“Only my most awesome girlfriend!” Xander cut in, grinning. Nash chuckled.

“Well, Xander and Max decided that, with the aftermath of the Game, they needed some science to calm down.” Nash drawled. “That so called science entailed Xander’s “most awesome girlfriend”… exploding something in Savannah’s face.”

Lyra’s eyebrows shot up. “Savannah Grayson? The Ice Queen, Savannah Grayson?”

“That’s the one. If looks could kill, Max and Xander would’ve been ashes.”

“Not true!” Xander gasped, yet again cutting in. “Savannah loves me.”

Lyra paused at that. Did they know… they probably did. Grayson probably told them, just like how he had told Lyra about Savannah’s original plan in the Grandest Game. But she wasn’t willing to take that risk.

“We know.” Jameson finally cut in, the words low. Lyra looked up, surprised. She wasn’t shocked that the Hawthornes knew; that was likely. She was shocked that Jameson had spoken. Nash leaned back, locking eyes with Lyra.

“You coverin’ for her or something?” he asked.

Lyra looked down. “No. I just know what’s my business to tell, and what’s not. Savannah’s plan to avenge her father is not my business.” Lyra said cooly. There was silence again.

“Rohan went to London with Gigi.” Nash said, cutting into the silence yet again. Lyra looked at him.

“Well, isn’t that a miracle for Grayson.” she mused. But as soon as she processed her words, she froze, any amusement in her face dropping. She hadn’t allowed herself to let the memories of Grayson swallow her, let alone say his name out loud. Her undisturbed mask slipped.

Lyra made sure, with a deep breath, that it wouldn’t again.

“Yeah, well, Grayson’s not there either.” Jameson said, and if he noticed her reaction to his name, he didn’t show it. Lyra’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“He left, is what I mean.” Jameson gritted out, his eyes on the floor. Lyra felt her body still, her heart beat beginning to quicken, before she spoke again.

“You mean… he went back home?” Lyra asked. Nash blew out a breath, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

“No. We don’t.” Nash sighed, his jaw tense.

Lyra couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Now, Grayson was no contact with the people he loved most, moved out of his home. Two weeks ago, he was on complicated terms with them.

But before he met Lyra? They were his life.

And now it just seems that Lyra’s broken the one thing that seemed as if it was always supposed to stay in one piece.

Grayson’s relationship with his brothers.

“It’s not your fault.” Nash cut in, seeing the look on her face and laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. The warmth of his touch was unfamiliar, and Lyra felt the urge to draw back. Lyra let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humour in it.

“You say that, but…” Lyra trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. She wanted to stall. Wanted to chat, like their being here held no weight whatsoever.

But she couldn’t.

“Why did you come here?” Lyra finally asked, opening her eyes and drifting them over the 3 boys. They all shared a look, before Xander spoke.

“Grayson—“

“I know,” Lyra said, cutting him off. “I know how Grayson is. But I can’t go back there, and you all know it.” She couldn’t go back because of her father, of Grayson’s family, of Alice.

But Lyra didn’t dare say her name, because that name ruined her life in more ways than one.

“Lyra, please! I’m sure we can all work something out!” Xander compromised, giving her a hopeful smile. Nash placed a hand on Xander’s arm.

“Xan, buddy, let it go.” Nash tried gently. But Xander was unstoppable.

“Grayson doesn’t like many things,” Xander rambled, his words fast. “He likes violin, and swimming, and being snobby, but really, he dabbles. In everything. In people, in relationships, in life, and in science which I just find crazy! But he has never dabbled in you.”

Lyra froze, her eyes widening slightly just as Xander’s did. “And look at you! You don’t dabble in him, either! You both like each other—no, love each other, and I really think that—“

“Xander,” Nash repeated, more firmly now. “Why don’t we go for a little walk?”

“Lyra, what about Grayson?” Xander pleaded. Lyra felt in then, like a tower of poorly stacked bricks finally tumbling down, like an unwinding in her chest as she knew she was about to get the words that she had been holding in for weeks out.

“What about me?” Lyra erupted, her eyes creasing with sadness. She shook her head, dark hair falling into her face. “What about how I felt? It’s not just my father—now it’s Alice, and—“ Lyra cut herself off, swallowing before she could say and you all. She could see in their faces that despite her not saying the words, they still heard them. Lyra swallowed. “And I know Grayson doesn’t dabble in me, and that Avery’s back, and that seemingly all can be restored, but—“ a sob racks Lyra’s chest. “But I’m not going to continue feeling the way I felt then just on the off chance that things might be different this time.”

She turned away then, now standing as she wrapped her arms around her stomach. “You all can leave now.”

She expected to hear the scuffing of shoes towards the door, the front door slamming shut, 3 hopeless boys trying to find their way back out of the woods. And she did hear the shuffling, at first. Before one of them silenced their movements.

“Lyra. I’m sorry.” Jameson said. Lyra froze. She didn’t turn around, not yet, but then curiosity got the best of her and her head turned, meeting Jameson’s eyes.

His body was tense with regret, his eyes heavy with grief, and every part of him seemed too tired, too broken. Lyra didn’t turn back around.

“I wanted to protect Avery. I wanted to protect Grayson, too. I protected them in the only way I knew how. And with your background… this was the only way that felt right, Lyra.” he says

“The only way that felt right? Lying was the only way that felt right?” Lyra reiterated, wanting so badly to feel at ease with his form of apology. But she wasnt, and she wasnt going to continue putting pressure on herself just for the wellbeing of others. Jameson shook his head.

“No. It wasnt a lie, Lyra. I just didnt want to tell you to protect everyone.” Jameson says. Lyra held his gaze, her eyes firm and steady.

“A lie of omission is still a lie, Jameson.” Lyra says, her voice calm and firm. Jameson nods.

“Yeah, I know, but—“ he says, dragging a hand over his face as he dropped his head. “I know what I did, okay? I know what it cost me, Lyra. I don’t want it to cost Grayson the same thing.” Lyra was silent at that. She heard what Jameson didn’t say—it cost him Avery. Jameson’s one love.

And he didn’t want Grayson to lose his.

Lyra was silent. She didn’t know what to say—or if she even could say anything. No words seemed right.

“What do you expect me to do with this, Jameson?” Lyra asked, her voice cracking. His eyes darted away, guilt clear in them.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s supposed to happen now. But I’ve been holding onto those words for weeks now, and I had to finally say them.” Jameson exhaled, hanging his head as his hands were clasped together. Lyra just stared at him, working through what had just happened.

Xander had given Lyra the opportunity to say the words she had been holding in for far too long.

Jameson heard them, and apologized. Gave her the consolation she’d been striving for ever since she left the island. Left Grayson.

And yet… there was still a gaping hole in her heart. She knew that his words helped, but for some reason she couldn’t get them to patch that.

“It’s not enough,” Jameson started, his voice quiet, “for you to come back. Is it?” Lyra squeezed her eyes shut, before giving her head a slight shake. Jameson stilled—then nodded. Then he took a napkin off the table, patted himself down, before looking at Lyra.

“Got a pen?” he asked. Lyra nodded, crouching down to fumble her hands over the second tier of the coffee table, reaching for a pen she knew was somewhere. Once her fingers clutched around one, she pulled it out, handing it to Jameson. Jameson took it, before scrawling something onto the napkin. His brothers eyed his writing, before Nash and Xander both shared a look. Lyra didn’t understand why, until he handed the napkin to her.

Lyra’s eyes darted over the numbers, surprised that Jameson had even bothered to do this.

“It’s my number,” Jameson started, his voice quiet. “In case. In case you feel regrets, in case this solitude thing you’ve got going on isn’t all it’s made out to be, in case…” Jameson swallowed. “In case you ever consider coming back. You just call that number.”

Lyra swallowed, feeling more seen than she had in a while. “Thank you.” she said, her voice soft and quiet. Jameson held up the pen.

“If you want Grayson’s number too, I’d be happy to oblige. It’s perfect for prank calls.” Jameson said. Lyra laughed then, wiping at a tear that she hadn’t even noticed had fallen.

“Yeah, well, if I wanted his number, I’m sure I could find it.” Lyra joked. Jameson’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” He asked. Lyra caught herself.

“Hm?” she said. Changing the subject, she smiled again. “Thank you. All of you.”

Nash smiled at her. “Yeah, well, we had a rough start. If only we could go back and redo it.” Lyra’s eyes twinkled with an idea.

“Why not?” she asked. Then she stepped forward, putting out her hand for Nash to shake. “Hello, there. I hear you’re Grayson’s brother. My name is Lyra Catalina Kane. And yours is?” Nash laughed.

“Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, pleased to meet you Lyra.” Nash replied, reaching out to shake Lyra’s hand. She turned to do the same for Xander, before she was pulled into a massive bear hug.

“Hello, Lyra! I’m so glad we could redo this whole first-meeting thing, because I love to give people hugs upon just meeting them!” Xander beamed, squeezing her. Lyra coughed, struggling to breathe.

“Really?” she squeezed out, before Xander finally let her go. Lyra caught her breath, before smiling.

“I’m so glad you’re not a threat. I actually really liked you from the beginning, Lyra.” Xander said. Lyra’s heart squeezed at that.

“I was never a threat, Xander.” Lyra said gently. Xander’s smile dropped slightly, his eyes growing softer.

“My brothers tend to say I have a bad judge of character, or that I trust too easily,” Xander admitted. But then he grinned, leaning closer to Lyra. “But believe me, I knew you were never a threat. I always thought you were good and enough to bring Grayson out of his shell, and I liked you for that.”

Lyra couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thank you, Xander. I liked you a lot too. I still do.”

Xander pulled her into another hug, folding overtop her, and Lyra knew then that she couldn’t reminiscence on how they could’ve done this earlier, if not for all the complications. She couldn’t, because she was done living in the past.

What happened then on was going to be good; because now, Lyra controlled that.

Once she and Xander separated, she turned to Jameson. “I don’t believe we’ve met?” Lyra said, offering up her hand for Jameson to shake. He laughed, taking the offer and giving her a firm shake of his hand.

“Jameson Hawthorne. I’ve heard of you, of course.” Jameson said. Then, his eyes twinkled. “Now, I have a question for you Lyra. Which era do you feel more of an odd, almost spiritual attachment to? The bygone era, or the year 2255?” Lyra pondered on that, before meeting his eyes again.

“The year 2255. It would explain the shiver I get down my spine every time I see a robot of any kind.” Lyra replied. Jameson looked over Lyra’s shoulder, winking at Xander and shooting a finger gun at him.

“5 bucks!” Jameson called out. Lyra turned to see Xander begrudgingly pull a bill out of his pocket, sighing with defeat.

“Damn it,” he grumbled, handing the bill to Jameson. “I for sure thought it’d be the bygone era! You know, because they all found boring things interesting back then. Hence Grayson.” Lyra narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m guessing this is a conversation you two have had before?” Lyra guessed. Nash snorted.

“Yup. They were bullshitting about this whole “time traveller” thing weeks ago.” Nash drawled. “Xan’s idea, obviously.” Lyra smiled at that—then it dropped.

“Wait, weeks ago? When did this start, exactly?” Lyra questioned. The 3 boys shared a look, their eyes very telling despite their poker faces. Xander laughed awkwardly.

“Jameson mentioned a little something… a while ago… about a certain contestant making Grayson’s face expressions actually change for once on the helicopter—but don’t worry about that! It was so long ago, I hardly remember it myself!” Xander lied, awkwardly laughing. Lyra gave him a stare, before Nash clasped a hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“Anyway. We should be going. Thanks for having us, darlin’.” Nash said, tipping his hat at Lyra. Lyra smiled back at him, watching him begin to stalk to the door, and turned back to the two remaining boys.

“Thank you—“ Lyra started to say, before getting interrupted by a hug from Xander. This time, he didn’t make her lungs explode in her chest, which Lyra thought was progress.

“Bye, Lyra.” Xander beamed, before leaning down, and putting a hand on one side of his mouth as if telling a secret. “And don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best GGDEG player I’ve ever seen.” He skirted off suddenly, and Lyra laughed as she watched him race to the front door. Then she turned, and saw Jameson still standing there. He glanced to the napkin on the table.

“Don’t be a stranger, Lyra. I’m sorry I ever made you out to be one, but…” he trailed off, swallowing before looking at Lyra. “Grayson loves you. More than he has ever loved anyone else. And I really think he needs you in his life right now. Plus, you belong back there. More than you know it.” Jameson winked at her, before he reached for something in his pocket, and pulled out his phone. Scrolling through it, he showed the phone to Lyra, and her heart stilled.

On his phone, she saw a photo of her. But it wasn’t just a photo. It was a drawing.

His drawing. Her Hawthorne.

It was the same one she stared at weeks ago in the second phase of the Game, hidden under his pillow. She loved it.

She could tell Grayson did too.

“One day, I tried to visit Grayson.” Jameson admitted, his voice quiet. “He didn’t want to see me. Told me to leave. But as I was going, I saw his wallet on the coffee table, and inside it was this.” Jameson didn’t have to specify what the this was. She’d seen the photo; seen the drawing.

Grayson had carried it around in his wallet.

“And that letter? I tried to wrestle for it, and once I had it in my hands, read it; but Grayson wouldn’t budge. I remembered hearing a crinkling sound, and seeing a white slip of paper tucked inside his suit jacket, in one of the higher pockets.” Jameson said, his voice dry as he laughed. “And I realized that the bastard kept it there because he wanted it to be closest to his heart.”

Lyra froze. She didn’t know what to say, or if she even could say anything. Because Grayson Hawthorne… this miraculous, wonderful boy, had given her hope. Of love, of closure, of a future. He’d given her support. He’d given Lyra the dream that the old her—the soft, unyielding side of her who didn’t go to sleep scared or drowned in what ifs—wasn’t quite as lost as she’d thought.

She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t lose her Hawthorne.

“He’s all in, Lyra.” Jameson said, his voice quiet. “He’s just waiting. And I’m sure he’d wait forever, if you made him. But making him wait would be just as excruciating for you as it would be for him. Just—“ Jameson cut himself off with a sharp exhale, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. Once they were opened, Jameson continued. “Just don’t punish you or him because of the mistakes we made.”

Then, he gave Lyra one last smile, and walked away. Lyra knew his words were true; and she valued them, more than Jameson could ever know.

Lyra watched him walk out, the other two boys in tow, before the door shut. Now, Lyra was alone. But she didn’t feel alone—not like how she had felt days on end in Miles End, no matter who was with her. Now, the silence was comforting. It gave her a gentle minute to work through her thoughts, to decide what to do next. And Lyra decided.

She decided that she was going to wait. She wasn’t going to rush herself on making a decision yet.

Lyra smiled softly to herself, straying close to the coffee table one last time and grabbing the napkin, folding it up and putting it in her pocket.

Days had passed since the Hawthornes visiting—days spent thinking, breathing, and, for once, living. Truly living, not just… happening to be alive.

Lyra finished washing her last dish, setting it on the rack with care and drying her hands. There was a quiet lull in the kitchen, and in the quiet she couldn’t stop her mind from straying to him.

Chivalrous beyond her limits. Gentle icy blue eyes. Light blond hair, seemingly perfect aside from one strand that always seemed to stick out.

She knew him better than she knew herself; maybe she always would.

Before, Lyra would get angry at herself for thinking of him. She would shut it down in seconds, never entertaining the idea of her going back to him for now.

But Jameson Hawthorne’s number was still folded up in her pocket. The sound of Grayson’s voice was still folded in her heart.

So, Lyra took out her phone. Dialling the number written down, Lyra waited for an answer.

She didn’t wait for long.

“Hello?” Jameson’s voice answered. Lyra swallowed.

“Jameson, hi. It’s Lyra.” she said.

“Ah, you. What’s going on, Lyra?” he asked. Lyra’s breath caught. What was going on? She didn’t have a single clue.

But then again, she didn’t need a well thought out plan. Or an excuse. All she needed was her Hawthorne.

“I’m calling for…” Lyra said, trailing off. Regaining her determination, Lyra swallowed, eyes aflame with something stronger than hope.

“I’m calling for Grayson.”

hey loveliessss yes part 2 will come out soon enough hehe i just REALLY wanted to write a reconciliation fic like i could NOT anymore 💔

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Could you write a fic where someone’s trying to flirt with Lyra and making like inappropriate comments about her body and then Grayson gets initially really jealous but then he later like gets in a fight or threatens the dude or some shit idk loll 😭

i ended up writing this a whole YEAR later and i am so sorry… but here it is bookie 😭😭😭

IM SORRYYYYYY 💔💔💔😭

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Unserious Comments, Serious Conclusions

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synopsis: lyra and grayson attend a gala, the couple enjoying their time there greatly. but then a guy comes along, making insinuating and rather disgusting comments about lyra’s body. in the moment, grayson defends lyra verbally. but later on… he doesn’t use his words so much.

warning: insinuating comments, catcalling, physical fights

tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread @angelnextdooor @sweet-girl-in-cabin-13

authors note: this fic was requested in august. of 2024. but i finally got around to writing it so pls dont kill me 🙏

ALSO GUYS THERE IS A GLORIOUS RIVALS SPOILER IN HERE!!! so please proceed with caution

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LYRA:

Lyra was, honestly, having a good time. The band was playing old 70’s songs, nothing like what she’d ever heard at a gala before, but still very nice to listen to. The champagne they were seving seemed crisper than usual. And the atmosphere?

The atmosphere was, for once, truly good. There were no half smiles, no bored looks. It was bustling. Everybody seemed to be having a good time.

Well, except for Grayson.

Lyra smiled at Grayson across the room, who seemed to be being bored to death by a finance bro who just didn’t understand when there was a time and place for work talk.

Lyra couldn’t help but laugh as he sent a look her way that screamed, “I’m about to fall asleep”, as she turned to walk towards the bar and order a drink.

And that’s when she saw him.

A tall guy, in simply a dress shirt, tie, and slacks, stalking over to her. His smirk was too carefree, his eyes too wandering.

Lyra knew what he came over to her for.

Straightening, Lyra put on her imaginary battle gear, desperately trying to avoid the urge to simply… walk away.

“Hey there,” he greeted simply, asking the bartender to get him a ‘scotch neat’. Ugh, he’s one of those, Lyra thought.

“Hello.” Lyra replied politely, taking a sip of her drink once the bartender handed her it. The guy took his as well, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him sidle up closer.

It was slight, but it was still there.

“My names Trevor. And I already know yours, of course.” he said, smiling. “You’re the beautiful Lyra Kane.” Lyra smiled, but it was thin, fleeting, and utterly fake.

“Hm. I guess so.” she agreed, her tone cordial.

“Y’know, I can’t help but think how sad it is that you didn’t win the Grandest Game. I mean, after all you did, isn’t that disappointing?” he crooned, dipping his head down to look at her. Lyra narrowed her eyes at him absentmindedly.

“After all I did?” Lyra questioned, her tone trying to be polite. Trevor winked at her.

“Grayson Hawthorne.” he said, as if that explained everything. Lyra’s eyes met her boyfriends across the room, and saw that he was already watching her. His hand was gripped around a flute of champagne, his eyes dark and dangerous as he watched her talk to the man. Grayson seemed to be communicating one thing and one thing only from across the room: he needs to get away from you.

Lyra swallowed, looking away—and then Trevor’s comment hit her in the face. What he said, what he meant—

Lyra looked up at him with angry shock, and he just laughed.

“Oh, c’mon! I’m sure Grayson got a little lonely managing that game. You kept him company. Just sucks you didn’t get that money in the end.” Trevor joked, taking a sip from his ‘neat scotch’.

Lyra considered throttling him.

The only reason she didn’t was because she did a quick breathing exercise, and concluded that she’d probably break a nail if she tried to strangle him.

Then again, she could break her real nails, and it’d still be worth it.

“I’m sorry, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lyra angrily gritted out, gripping her drink. Trevor laughed again, only making Lyra want to slug him more.

“Don’t cause a scene, honey. Rumours fly fast. You raise your voice even a little, and that’s what you’re known for around here.” he said, before laughing again and continuing. “Also, sure I don’t. Innocent Lyra Kane steps into the game and lays her eyes on Grayson Hawthorne, man who’s practically made of money. I don’t judge you though. Or him, for that matter,” His eyes trailed down her body, making Lyra’s eyes narrow at him with annoyance and disgust. Then he reached out and slipped a finger through one of the straps of her dress, making her freeze with repulse and fear. “I too wouldn’t be able to resist against a body like yours.”

There was a split second where Lyra froze—unsure whether to fight his hand off of her or try her best to deal with this in a way that wouldn’t cause a scene, when, in a flash, she spotted a figure in her peripheral vision.

Grayson.

“You want to get your hand off of her?” he asked, stepping in front of Lyra. His words were barely an actual question; any body with eyes and ears could tell what he really meant: keep touching her, and you’ll see what happens. With Grayson turned slightly, Lyra could see his face—angry, no, furious as he stared at the man. His jaw was more tense than Lyra had ever seen it, like hard granite, and Lyra saw then that the rest of his body was too.

Trevor got his hand off of her.

“Relax, man,” Trevor recovered quickly, smiling at Grayson as if trying to regain some of his dignity.

“Step away from her,” Grayson started, pulling Lyra closer to him—or, behind him—by the waist. “and then maybe I’ll relax.”

The dick put his hands up, taking a step back.

“We were just chatting. Isn’t that right, Lyra?” Trevor asked, winking at her. Lyra tensed from her spot more than slightly behind Grayson, not wanting to be shielded out of sight, but also not wanting to talk to this asshole anymore.

“Sure.” Lyra gritted out, her smile venomous. He laughed then, like her anger was something that was just hilarious.

“Alright. See you around, Lyra.” Trevor said, not even bothering to say another word to Grayson before stalking off, his hands in his pockets. Grayson’s arm tensed around her waist, before he turned to her.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft despite his dark eyes—not for her, but for Trevor.

Human dog shit. Frat boy fucker.

Lyra could think of 10 more names just off the top of her head.

“I’m fine.” Lyra said, exhaling. Grayson tilted his head at her, his eyes sparking with anger.

“What did he say to you, Lyra?” Grayson asked, his tone low and dangerous. Lyra shook her head.

“Nothing, really.” she lied, hearing his words reverberate in her head.

Don’t cause a scene, honey.

Rumours fly fast.

You raise your voice even a little, and that’s what you’re known for around here.

She didn’t care much for her reputation, but she knew that Grayson did. If she caused a scene, that would backfire on him. And if she told him what Trevor really said…

Grayson Hawthorne wouldn’t hold back from destroying him in every way possible, brutally and publicly.

So, Lyra refrained.

“He was just bothering me with questions,” Lyra said, the words not exactly being a lie. “That was all.”

Grayson didn’t look convinced.

“If he told you something that he shouldn’t have…” Grayson trailed off dangerously, letting Lyra fill in the dots. Lyra smiled, brushing a stray hair behind Grayson’s ear.

“I’d tell you.”

GRAYSON:

She’d tell me. If that asshole said something, she’d tell me, Grayson’s mind repeated for the millionth time. Lyra said that herself.

So why did Grayson feel so doubtful?

If Lyra was hiding this from him, it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him. It was because of something bigger.

So naturally, Grayson went looking for the pervert who was talking to her earlier.

He seemingly disappeared from the gala. Somewhere in the bathrooms, maybe, or maybe he just decided to take his leave.

But most of the guests had left by now, and he was still nowhere to be seen.

Grayson’s eyes scanned the now much more empty room, searching for him again, when Lyra groaned beside him.

“Gray. That guy left already. I told you, you don’t need to worry about him.” Lyra said, pulling his attention to her.

Lyra was good at doing that; sneaking up on him in the corners of his mind, stealing his glances as well as his breath, becoming the one sole thing he wished to gaze upon day and night for the rest of his life.

Focus. He had to focus. Regain control, and not let beauty reincarnate beside Grayson take it from him.

“Who said I was looking for him?” Grayson quipped, raising a brow at her. Lyra looked unimpressed.

“You’re tense. You have been tense for the entire night, just like how your eyes have been scanning the room for him the entire night too. Relax, Grayson. Trevor’s gone, and I guarantee you that you scared him off.” Lyra said, laughing. Trevor. So that was the perverts name. Grayson’s lips twitched.

“Hopefully scared him off to a faraway country. I don’t want him in 50 feet proximity of you.” Grayson said, annoyed at just the memory of that bastard touching Lyra’s dress. He wanted to break his hand in half right then and there.

“Sure, sure.” Lyra said, smiling that smile that never failed to make his heart catch as she laid a palm flat on his chest. Then she frowned. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to discuss something with Avery and Alisa after the event?” Grayson’s eyebrows raised.

“Right. Alisa wanted to discuss something with Avery and I regarding the proceeds from the Hannah the Same Backwards as Forwards charity.” Grayson recalled, glancing from his watch. 8:43, it read.

“Here,” Grayson said, pulling out his car keys from his pocket and handing them to Lyra. “She said she was going to keep us a little while. Why don’t you drive home, maybe get a movie started, and then I’ll come home and we can watch something?” Lyra’s eyes brightened.

“Only if we watch 13 Going On 30.” she quipped, a smile gracing her face. Grayson exhaled exasperatedly, although there was a smile on his too.

“For the hundredth time? Sure, why not.” Grayson said. Lyra grinned, stepping closer and raising her head. Grayson tilted his down, a hand on her waist as their lips touched. The kiss was slow, delicate, and it drew on for longer than it should’ve.

Longer than what was appropriate, anyway.

Finally they separated, Lyra smiling and pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Bye, Gray.” she said.

“Bye, sweetheart. See you in a bit.” Grayson said, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. She smiled, before turning and walking off. Grayson watched her go, until she was out the doors and staring any longer would make him look downright crazy. He huffed out a breath, walking towards the bar and seeing the bartender was still there.

“A whiskey, please.” Grayson asked. The bartender nodded, making his drink. Then, once it was poured and the man was handing it to Grayson, the bartender spoke.

“Hey, you’re Grayson Hawthorne, right?” The man asked, his voice accented and gruff. Grayson nodded.

“That’s me.”

“That girl you’re with—is she okay? I heard this guy talking to her, said some filthy things. I was going to say something, but then I saw you coming over here, and figured that guy was bound to get chewed up anyway.” he said. Grayson froze, anger coursing through his body.

“Filthy things?” Grayson gritted out, picturing that fucker leaning over Lyra, saying something to her that made her eyes flash with anger. He should have walked over and beat the shit out of him right then and there. “Like what?”

“Like how she slept her way into the game. And how he didn’t blame her for doing so, or you for engaging, because he too “wouldn’t be able to resist against a body like hers”.” The man said, his eyes narrowing. “And then he had the audacity to tell her not to make a scene. Not to mention him putting his hands on her, but you saw that.”

Grayson was frozen. His body was tense, his fists clenched at his side. Suddenly, he tossed back the whiskey, slamming the glass down, every movement furious. That’s why Lyra lied, Grayson thought, his teeth gritting down so hard it hurt, she didn’t want to make a scene. That bastard told her not to.

Grayson was going to kill him.

“Have fun!” the bartender called out as Grayson stalked away without another word, clearly knowing what he was going to do.

He walked the length of the hall, his body tense and coursing with anger as he went to go and find every last bit of information on that Trevor bitch and destroy him—and froze.

There, outside, through the glass doors of one of the exits, he saw him.

Trevor.

The bastard was laughing with two other guys, probably both assholes like him, while he leaned against the brick wall of the building, looking smug.

Grayson didn’t think. He slammed through the doors, walking up towards Trevor with lightning speed. Once Trevor saw him approach, he saw how his appearance shifted—he tried to maintain a smirk, but his eyes swirled with something like fear.

You shouldn’t be afraid of what I’m doing Trevor, Grayson thought, his mind burning with rage.

You should be afraid of what I’m going to do.

“Trevor,” Grayson greeted, his voice nothing short of dangerous—and purposefully so. “You mind talking alone?”

That wasn’t a request. And from the look on Trevors face, he knew that.

“Sure,” he replied, trying to look at ease—and failing. He looked towards the two other guys with him. “You guys go to that bar. I’ll catch up.”

The two looked at each other, clearly sensing trouble, before nodding and walking across the street, the alley dark despite a couple yellow streetlights.

Grayson looked at Trevor. Really looked at him. He wanted that asshole to be afraid, to feel the rage that was drowning Grayson.

“It seems you’ve said some things,” Grayson said, letting the words—the mystery of them, what Grayson heard or what he didn’t—hang in the air. “Care to elaborate?”

Trevor laughed. “So I flirted with your girl.” he said, grinning as if it were all a big joke. “That’s not much different than what she does. Putting her body on display with dresses like that; that must annoy you, huh?”

So Trevor thought that he knew Grayson. That he could relate to him in any way.

That he could talk about Lyra like that.

Grayson smiled, let Trevor think that he was on his side.

Then Grayson stepped forward, and punched him across the face.

Trevor cried out, his back hitting the wall. But Grayson didn’t stop there.

He punched him again; this time aiming for his stomach. The bastard wheezed, clutching his stomach and doubling over.

“What the hell! It was just a comment, man!” he exploded, wheezing and gasping. “It wasn’t even serious.”

“That may not have been serious. But this?” Grayson said, stepping forward dangerously and pulling the man forward by his collar.

“This,” he started calmly, his smile truly dangerous, “is serious.”

Then he sent another punch flying to his face.

Trevor tried grappling back, blocking his head while grabbing for Grayson, but it was no use. Trevor was useless, Grayson knew that, but he was even more useless when fighting. Grayson had him down instantly, his fists flying towards the bastards face.

Trevor managed to get a hit in at Grayson’s jaw, but Grayson was quick to return one, faster and much more brutal than his originally was.

He wanted to make him hurt. He wanted to beat Trevor until he was unconscious. But the only reason he didn’t was because he could just picture what Lyra would say.

“You wanted to teach him a lesson. But this?” he imagined her saying, her mind on the news of the fight while her eyes would seem deep with anger and regret. “This was too far.”

And he knew she’d be right; he desperately wanted to go too far, to beat Trevor until he was as disgusting on the outside as he was on the inside, but he refrained.

Just barely.

Grayson dropped him suddenly, stepping backwards and adjusting his suit. He glanced at Trevor, his expression cold and distant.

Trevor would be fine; no serious breaks or injuries, despite Grayson desperately wanting to give him a couple, but his face would be badly bruised.

But even that was enough. His dignity would be shattered, his ego dividing in size, and Trevor wouldn’t even think of slithering back to Lyra’s side ever again.

Or, Grayson thought, any woman. At least not until his pride flares up again.

But Grayson knew men like Trevor well enough to know that that would take a while.

“You cunt,” Trevor said, sitting up and spitting out blood. “You absolute fucker.” His eyes flashed with hatred, insecurity, fear, and Grayson pitied Trevor for being so pathetic.

“Next time,” he continued, his words garbled as his hand cradled his jaw. “I’ll hit on your girl when you’re not around.”

Grayson didn’t freeze. He didn’t tense. All he did was step closer, leaning down towards Trevor.

And that was all it took for the son of a bitch to flinch.

“Next time,” Grayson promised, his voice low and tone dangerous despite the smile on his face. “I break your jaw.”

Trevor’s mouth twitched. He looked like he considered saying something else—but changed his mind. He slowly rose to his feet, hesitantly, before shooting Grayson a glare and taking off.

Grayson watched him shoot across the street, knowing that the asshole wouldn’t dare come close to Lyra again.

Suddenly, Grayson’s phone rang. Alisa.

Grayson muttered a curse, before answering it. “Hello?” Grayson said.

“You’re late,” Alisa replied, her version of a greeting. Grayson sighed.

“Yeah, Alisa, I won’t be able to make it. Somethings come up.” Grayson said, glancing at his knuckles that were a deep red shade. Shit.

“Something came up at nearly 9:00 PM?” Alisa repeated, her tone unimpressed.

“Sorry. Avery will fill me in tomorrow, okay? I have to go.” Grayson said. Alisa was about to say something else when Grayson hung up, sliding his phone into his pocket. He glanced at his knuckles again, red and beginning to bleed, and let out a stream of curses.

Lyra was going to kill him.

Grayson got out of the cab, walking up to the house and mentally preparing himself for what Lyra was going to say. Still, he knew that he wouldn’t regret beating Trevor.

That son of a bitch deserved it, no matter how much Lyra disagreed.

Grayson knocked on the door, wincing as his knuckles began to hurt even more. Lyra opened it, smiling at Grayson.

And then her eyes dropped to his hands, and her smile disappeared.

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. Because in a flash, she was grabbing Grayson by the collar and shoving him inside. And Grayson?

Grayson feared for his life.

“I cannot believe you!” Lyra exploded for the third time, pushing Grayson onto the couch before continuing to stomp across the house. “Getting in a fight. Who cares about that idiot, Grayson?”

“I care.” Grayson said, running a hand through his hair. “Not about that bastard, Lyra, but about you!”

At this, Lyra finally froze, her shoulders moving up and down with each breath, before she started walking again. She was gone for a good minute, before she returned holding bandages, scissors, what looked to be rubbing alcohol, and a bag of cotton pads, the circular ones Lyra uses to remove her makeup. Lyra took Grayson’s hand in hers, surveying the damage—and wincing. But she didn’t say a word. All she did was pour some rubbing alcohol on the cotton, before dabbing it over his knuckles.

The alcohol stung, but didn’t bother Grayson much. All he could focus on was Lyra. Her gentleness, her care, her focus as she cleaned up his knuckles and then bandaged them, no matter how angry she was.

“Stop looking at me.” Lyra said, finally cutting into the silence but at the same time not sparing Grayson a glance. Grayson raised a brow, his gaze focused entirely on her.

“Why not, sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his voice soft. Lyra still didn’t look up.

“Because you’re no longer allowed.” she replied simply. Grayson couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m not?” he asked. Lyra still didn’t look at him as she cut the bandages and tied it up around his knuckles.

“No. You’re also no longer allowed to call me sweetheart, so don’t bother.” Lyra said, her tone firm. He smiled at her, and knew then that Lyra’s beauty would never diminish. Not in a pair of shorts and a tiny tank top, not with her gaze turned downwards, refusing to look Grayson in the eye, not even when she was livid at him.

She would always be enchanting. Grayson knew this like he knew the back of his hand, the ABC’s—it was an undeniable fact.

“Hm. So what am I allowed to do then, your Highness?” Grayson pondered, his lips quirked upwards. Lyra dropped the hand she was working on and moved onto the other.

“Nothing.” she said firmly. Grayson raised a brow.

“Nothing?”

“Mhm.”

He would see about that. Lyra just started to dab the rubbing alcohol onto his knuckles, when Grayson leaned forward, kissing the nape of Lyra’s neck. He heard her breath catch, and saw her freeze before continuing.

She was ignoring him.

But Grayson refused to be ignored for long.

He continued pressing kisses to her neck, trailing them up to her jaw, inhaling her vanilla-rose scent.

Lyra finally broke.

She grabbed Grayson by the jaw, pulling him off her neck. Lyra shot him a glare, and then she was pulling him in for a kiss.

Grayson finally felt the satisfaction of her lips on his, kissing her back, deepening it—and then all he felt was the absence of her as she drew back.

“I said nothing,” Lyra said, her lips quirked with satisfaction. “And I meant nothing. Now sit still, and let me finish this hand.”

Grayson leaned his head back, finally giving in to the tornado that was Lyra Kane. Lyra continued to work, cutting the bandages before tying it, and then just like that, both his hands were done.

Lyra was pissed at him.

She yelled at him.

Lectured him.

Called him many things that should not be repeated in a 10 mile radius of children.

And yet here she was, checking his hands to make sure she had fixed them up properly.

Once she was done with those, Lyra finally looked up at him. Grayson didn’t realize how much he had missed the golden light that were her eyes until they were cast upon him.

“Why did you do it, Grayson?” Lyra questioned, her brows furrowed. “I didn’t want to cause a scene. I didn’t want to ruin your reputation. I didn’t want to—“

“Lyra.” Grayson said, cutting her off with desperation in his tone. “Do you think I care about any of that? Do you think I care about causing scenes, and ruining my reputation? I don’t care. I’ll ruin it a million times over if it means defending you. That bastard—he said things about you that are unforgivable. He touched you without your permission. I know you, Lyra Catalina Kane. I know you would have been able to hit him much harder than I did, if you wanted to. And I know you don’t think you need defending.” Grayson pulled her closer, resting his forehead on hers. “But I will always defend you. Until I die and beyond that, I will defend you, not because you need it, but because you deserve it. You deserve to be respected, and I’ll make that clear a thousand times over if I have to.”

Lyra froze, her eyes widening as she stared at Grayson, the look in her eyes no longer angry, but now bordering on soft.

“I don’t need your protection, Grayson.” Lyra said, drawing back slightly. Grayson took her hand in his bandaged one, pressing a slow and gentle kiss to it.

“Maybe not, sweetheart. But you’ll always have it.” Grayson said, his voice gentle. Then his lips tilted. “Can I look at you now?” Lyra considered that.

“Hm. No.” she said flatly, turning away from him.

“Can I call you sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his smile widening.

“No.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“No.”

Then Grayson laughed, and his attention turned to the shorts Lyra was wearing, the ones that were currently riding up on her legs. He grazed a finger over her thigh, knowing just what he wanted to ask next.

“Can I-“

“No.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

okay yall another post fic yap but was the fight scene too much?? Idk ive never really condoned violence or found it attractive whatsoever, so i truly wanted to make this guy a pervert and Graysons actions not so brutal (still, hes a hawthorne AND protective, gotta be a little brutal) just to try and downplay it the best i could?? Idk just tell me how yall felt!!

I hope u enjoyed it <33

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

libbynash pregnancy flirting fic, like her feeling insecure about her body but he's more obsessed than ever or he helps re-dye her hair or smth

- 🦢 anon

…. im so sorry bae, but i got SO carried away with this fic that i forgot to add the re-dyeing her hair scene 😓😓😓

IM SORRY!!! I was just really locking in and writing a bunch, and then i checked this when i was nearly done and was like… oops

anyways, here it is !!! <33 sorry again hehe

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

All Your Insecurities, All My Treasures - libby x nash

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

synopsis: being pregnant with twins has taken a toll on libby’s body. she expected herself to be okay with this, knowing that pregnancy naturally had this effect, but in the depths of her mind, she isn’t. nash is with her every step of the way, convincing herself that every part of her is beautiful—especially the part that’s carrying his children.

warnings: light angst, fluff, minor suggestive comments, insecurities

tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread @angelnextdooor @sweet-girl-in-cabin-13

authors note: I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR A WORD FROM YOU @runnningoutofink !!! this is as short as my fics can possibly be. Otherwise i short circuit 😙

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

LIBBY:

Libby was okay with this. She was okay with all the changes that pregnancy gave her.

It was the miracle of life, after all. And the miracle of life came with these things: bodily changes, mood swings, feelings of nausea.

And, as the article that Libby was reading went on, something caught her eye. Feelings of insecurity.

Libby had been only 5 weeks pregnant then; she was still starry eyed from just the realization that she was pregnant.

She was going to be a mom.

And Nash? He was going to be the best father there was.

But now that Libby was in her second trimester, she felt it: the pit in her stomach every time she noticed the tiredness under her eyes, the way every part of her—not just her belly—seemed to grow in mass, the stretch marks that were starting to appear more rapidly on her body.

And of course, the bulge on her belly that seemed truck sized every time she turned to her side.

Libby told herself that there was nothing wrong with any of this—that insecurities caused by pregnancy were just a result of the medias harsh opinions of women, and that resenting your body for changing in this way was just plain stupid. I mean, she was pregnant! This was supposed to be incredible.

But Libby would be lying to herself if she said it completely was.

She had pushed it down eventually—looking away from mirrors rapidly and wearing oversized clothing to hide her new, soft curves.

Everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Until it wasn’t.

“Hey, darl’, Avery’s invited us to some charity event she’s hosting to celebrate the second Grandest Game starting soon.” Nash said. “Think it’d be fun to go?”

Authors Note: before war started (ahem GLORIOUS RIVALS ahem) 😪😪

Libby thought about it, picturing a lively room, champagne glasses, and a beautiful dress, reserved for her.

And then she pictured herself in that beautiful dress, and her eyes darted away from Nash’s.

“Um, I don’t know.” she answered weakly. She picked at her nails, expecting Nash to finish the sentence for her, before being met with silence. She looked towards him, sat beside her on the couch, his attention all on her as he no longer flipped through movies. His eyebrow was raised, as if gesturing Libby to go on in a gentle manner. Libby straightened.

“Well, it just seems like a boring event, you know?” Libby managed, her excuse sounding flimsy to her own ears. Nash’s stare intensified, but his eyes were still soft.

“Liar.” he drawled, his voice gentle. Libby glared at him.

“I’m not lying! Seriously, put me in a room with one of those lie detecting machines and the guy behind it will be yelling “true”s all night.” Libby said defensively. Nash just gave a half-shrug.

“Y’know, I believe Xander has one of those,” Nash started, reaching for his phone. “I could always ask him to swing by—“

“No!” Libby blurted, reaching for his hand and yanking it away from his phone that was sitting on the coffee table. She mentally cursed herself, but Nash just took his other hand and wrapped it around one of Libby’s, the one that was clutching his.

“Baby,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not putting you under a lie detector test. I trust you with my whole life. I just think that there’s something botherin’ you, and I wanna know why that is.”

Libby felt tears start to well up in her eyes, but she blinked them away rapidly, turning her head away from Nash’s gaze.

“Nothing.” she lied. Nash gently took his hand under her chin, turning her head to look at her.

“Are you sure?” he pried softly.

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry about it Nash.” Libby said, growing more and more defensive.

“Libby—“

“I said don’t worry!” Libby erupted, rising from the couch to her feet. She immediately felt guilty, eyes widening with regret.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said, looking down. Then her eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know what that was. I don’t know if that was me or just my dumb mood swings.” Then her eyes reopened as Libby turned away from Nash, and Libby knew that she had just entered her ranting mode, something that tended to happen oftener and oftener now that she was pregnant. “Actually, I don’t know if anything is me anymore! I don’t know if I actually don’t like cottage cheese, or if I just tried it when I was pregnant and set myself up for failure. I don’t know if I was always this sensitive. And I especially don’t know if these thoughts in my head or mine, or just another result of pregnancy! Why is everything in my life just another result of pregnancy?”

There was a long pause after that, and Libby felt the tears that she had been holding back for what seemed like weeks now finally start to fall. A sob racked her chest, and Libby wrapped her arms around herself, trying to curl into a ball the best she could while standing. In the quickest moment, Nash had his arms around her, pulling her into his chest while Libby just couldn’t help but cry more. Then he spoke.

“These thoughts?” Nash finally asked, his voice soft and gentle in a way that just made Libby want to cry more. “Libby, darling, what thoughts?”

Another sob escaped from Libby’s lips. She gently took the arms wrapped around Libby off of her, moving her face out of Nash’s chest to look at him. He had so much concern and worry etched into his face, even in the subtlest of ways, that Libby had to stop herself from crying again. She quickly wiped the tears from her face, before looking Nash dead in the eye.

“Nash,” she started quietly, and although her voice was soft, she knew she had his full attention. “I want to ask you something and I want you to answer honestly.”

“Always.” Nash answered, taking one of her hands in his and interlocking their fingers. Libby swallowed.

“Do you still… do you still think I’m pretty now that I’m pregnant?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

Nash looked at her. Blinked.

“Do I still think you’re pretty?” Nash repeated.

Libby nodded.

He took a step back then, his finger stroking his chin as if in thought, while his eyes narrowed at her like an artist inspecting its masterpiece. Libby blew out a laugh then, clasping a hand over her mouth.

“Well, let’s see.” He started, removing the hand over her mouth. “Perfect lips. Eyes even I get poetic about, brown and dark and so full of emotion that sometimes, when I look into them, I feel as if I’m experiencing more of what you’re feeling than I am. Hair the sweetest teal colour while the ends border on black, a perfect body with beautiful curves, and,” Nash sank to his knees as he trailed off, pecking kisses on Libby’s bulge. “I couldn’t forget about your perfect stomach that’s carrying our perfect babies.”

Libby giggled. “Nash, stop!” she protested, weakly attempting to pry Nash’s face away from her stomach. He slowly rose, trailing kisses up her stomach to her chest, her collarbone, her neck, and finally, her lips. Libby kissed him back, before separating, feeling like she had more to say.

“Nash…” she started, the words disappearing on her tongue. Libby swallowed, found the courage to speak again, and continued. “I know my body is changing a lot. And I know you claimed it’s “perfect”, but… I know I’m not desirable right now. You don’t have to lie.”

Nash stepped forward, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes were stormy, and Libby realized then that Nash was genuinely upset that she was viewing herself in this way.

“Darlin’, who says you aren’t desirable?” he said, his voice teetering on a dark edge. Libby shook her head.

“No one in particular! But…” Libby said, swallowing. “All I see nowadays are skinny models, and influencers, and all I can remember is how I used to look. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with the way I look now. But it just doesn’t feel like me. And I don’t know… I always see people acting like gaining weight is terrible. But the biggest part of pregnancy is weight gain. So now it just feels like I’m this metaphorical squirrel, chasing this metaphorical acorn of alleged “perfection”. But now matter how fast I run, trying to chase the metaphorical beauty standard acorn, it always rolls faster away, just out of reach. It’s been out of reach for me as a goth my whole life. And now that I put on weight, it’s even farther. And do you know what the worst part of this is?” Libby threw her hands up. “I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore!”

Nash smoothed a hand down her hair as he pulled her down onto the couch with him. “Let’s try to work through the facts. You’re a fellow metaphorical squirrel, trying to survive in a world full of other metaphorical squirrels who are chasing only one thing; the metaphorical acorn of physical perfection?” he tried. Libby nodded.

“Okay. And you see this acorn in your vision, so naturally, as a squirrel, you chase it. But you’re a different kind of squirrel. You don’t really fit in with the normal crowd, because you’re a thigh-high boots lovin’, choker wearin’, goth. But the desire to chase it is still there. And now that your body is changing a little more because you’re cookin’ up something real good in that oven of yours, you feel the need to chase the acorn for even a slight feeling of normalcy. Right?” Nash finished.

Libby gaped. He was, in fact, right. Damn Nash Hawthorne and his ability to make even the dumbest things coherent.

“Yes! Exactly!” Libby exclaimed, pointing. Then she dropped her hands, sighing. “But I don’t know. I mean, my arms and legs have gotten bigger, my stomach is just huge, and—“ Libby cut herself off, cheeks tinging red. “And my boobs are just so much bigger than they were!”

Nash couldn’t help but let out a rumbling laugh. “Oh, I’ve noticed. Didn’t know we started listing my greatest desires back there, but yeah, darl’, those are on the list.”

Libby let out a screaming-squealing noise, hitting Nash multiple times on the arm while he ducked his head, laughing louder.

“Look, look,” he said, a smile still on his face. “I adore you. Not just for your body, but for so many reasons that I couldn’t even begin to form them into words. But believe me, your body is just as gorgeous as it was before.”

Libby’s face turned scarlet, but even as the comment was suggestive, it was comforting too. And she knew that Nash knew that as well.

“Thanks, Nash.” Libby whispered. Nash pulled her into his lap, kissing the top of her head.

“Of course, darlin’.”

And it was like a switch had been flipped in Nash. Libby had always known that he found her attractive, and Nash was always all for compliments, but now it seemed that she was giving him the green light to make his comments rain.

First, it was whenever they were baking.

Libby put the first batch of cupcakes into the oven, tapping the buttons.

“Nice mixing, cowboy.” Libby praised as she walked by Nash to the sink.

“Nice legs, Chef.” Nash replied.

Libby stayed turned so he wouldn’t see her pink cheeks.

Then, it was whenever Libby was helping Nash out with around the house chores.

Libby handed Nash a new sponge, the old one practically being on its death bed.

“Here,” she chirped, handing it to him. His eyes moved down her body with grace, landing back on her face with a smirk.

“Thanks, gorgeous.” he drawled. Libby rolled her eyes, turning away so he wouldn’t see the embarrassed look on her face. Taking the package of sponges, Libby bent down to put them away, and immediately knew his eyes were back on her.

“Where are your eyes right now, Nash?” Libby demanded. Nash chuckled.

“Not on the dishes.”

“Nash.”

And lastly, it was when Max and Avery came over after their shopping spree to “grace Libby with their gifts” (Max’s words, not hers). And grace her they did. They brought her baby clothes, books that Max insisted she read, and, of course, clothes.

However, there was one in the large pile that they had bought for her that really stood out.

The chest area seemed to be almost like a corset, tight, but at the same time having a soft fabric on the inside. And the rest? It was all dark purple lace, with long, bell like sleeves and an open area for her belly bulge, and Libby had no doubt that the girls picked it because of all the complaints Libby made about shirts feeling too restricting on her stomach.

“You like it, huh?” Max asked, eyes twinkling. “Avery picked it.”

Libby looked up at Avery, who gave her a simple half shrug. “As soon as I saw it, I just knew it’d be perfect for you, Libs.”

Libby looked at it. Really looked at it. And then she couldn’t help a smile from making its way onto her face.

“Yeah. It’s perfect.” Libby said, her voice soft. Then her eyes met the girls’, and there was a twinkle in them. “I’m gonna go try it on!”

The room erupted with cheers as Libby grabbed the shirt, hurrying to her room to go change.

As soon as Libby put the shirt on, tied up the back, and looked in the mirror, she just knew that this shirt was meant for her. It was perfect.

For once, she felt perfect. And maybe that was all because of Nash. Even now, she could practically hear all the comments he’d make if he were here to see this shirt right now.

Giggling, Libby gave herself one last spin in front of the mirror, before exiting the room and making her way to the girls. Avery’s mouth made an o shape when she saw Libby, and Max squealed.

“Omigod, you look amazing, Libby!” Max screeched, clapping her hands together. Avery laughed.

“Yeah, you really do.” Avery agreed, smiling. Libby was just about to say something, when the front door opened. Libby smiled. Nash was back from work.

Nash was going to go wild at the sight of her.

“Hey Libs, I’m back—“ Nash said, abruptly stopping when he walked past the living room and saw Libby in that top. Libby giggled, walking up to him.

“You like it? Avery and Max got it for me.” Libby said, a smirk on her face as she strolled up to him. Nash just stared a moment longer, his eyes taking in the fit of the shirt, before they met Libby’s. He smiled a big, wolfish smile, and Libby just knew where this was going. He pulled her in by the waist, swept her low, which was impressive considering he was using one arm and Libby was pregnant with twins, and kissed her. It was desperate, breathtaking—but at the same time, slow, like he was revelling in her.

Max and Avery exploded, Avery doubtlessly being the voice who told them to get a room, whereas Max was cheering them on. Finally, once they separated, Nash pulled her back up, his grin never failing to make her heart catch.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight, and you’re wearing that shirt. You look stunning, darlin’.” Nash said, pressing another kiss to her neck. Libby giggled, ducking her head.

“Alright, we should be leaving. You guys are making me sick.” Avery declared, getting up and faking a disgusted face. Avery gave Libby a hug, the sisters sharing goodbyes, before she went to grab her coat. Max, however, lingered a second, before running to the couple.

“Ignore her. You guys are faxing cute. Couple goals.” Max stage-whispered, grinning as she hugged Libby. She stayed a second longer, her face looking oddly… shy. Was Max physically capable of being shy? “And your children are going to be seriously lucky.” Without another word, she sprinted off towards Avery. Nash was momentarily surprised.

“A genuine compliment from Max? Without her creative swear words and pop culture jokes I’ll never understand?” Nash considered, before chuckling. “The world has changed.” Libby smiled.

“I don’t know. But… she seems right.” Libby said. Nash stared at her. Libby had just admitted to her children being lucky to have her as a mother, and Nash as a father. She had no doubt about the second half of that statement, but the first half had been something she always struggled with. But now? With Nash by her side, helping her grow her confidence and kindness in how she saw herself? Libby believed it.

Then, a smile grew on his lips, and Libby saw that Nash was looking at her with awe. She’d do just about anything to keep him looking at her in that way.

“I love you, Libby. You’re my everything. And you’ll be their everything too, I guarantee that.” Nash said, pressing a kiss to Libby’s lips, before bowing and pressing a kiss to her stomach. His lips lingered there, before he straightened again and met Libby’s eyes. Libby smiled, happy tears shining her eyes.

“I love you too, Nash.” Libby said, reaching out to hold his hands. He immediately interlocked their fingers, pressing a kiss to her knuckle. Libby’s smile widened. “And you know what?” Libby laughed then, viewing the insecurities as a barrier.

A barrier she had finally broken.

“I guarantee it, too.”

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

@beautifulmusicengineer i dedicated this whole squirrel rant to you as i am indeed squirrel girl 🐿️🐿️🐿️

Alsooo ik ive changed the font size from small to regular, but ive recently discovered that changing it is a colossal waste of time, so yeah LOL 😝😝😝

Also also ALSO i hope i tackled this whole body changing subject carefully? Even though i made some suggestive jokes, i just want my audience to understand that i do understand the toll that a womans body changing through pregnancy can take on them!! Gaining weight is a perfectly normal thing, even more so when pregnant, but society and beauty standards are harsh on how a womens body “should look”. Libby is a regular person just like us all, and she too gets affected by these unfair expectations. So please do not at all think that i am mocking the struggles that pregnant women may experience with their bodies, or that i am trying to degrade women who gain weight during pregnancy, OR give the idea whatsoever that gaining weight is something to be ashamed about!! Your bodies are constantly changing through life, from birth to death, and living life in resentment of your bodily changes is a path we as people should never be forced to go down.

And on a less serious note… i hope you enjoyed this. Sorry for yapping in your ear about beauty standards for a whole paragraph. i guarantee you if you skipped past this little monologue moment, your life would probably be better for it 🙃

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

where is that baby fever fic😫

HAHAHA I BASICALLY JUST POSTED IT AS U SENT THIS LMFAOO 😭😭😭

anyways its posted now!!! <33

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

do u write for the last of us

sorry, no i do not <33

also sorry again for the late reply, i didn’t see this ask!! 😭😭🫶

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEE write a Lyrayson fic where she has CRAZYYYY baby fever I mean like she’s FERAL over Grayson and he thinks it’s funny and it’s cute and stuff heheeee I love ur writing btw! 🩵🩵🩵

EEEE YES!!

Baby Fever and Untamed Urgencies - lyra x grayson

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

summary: lyra didn’t think she was ready for kids—until those 3 instances. and now she doesn’t know if shes capable of waiting around for the right time to come when all she wants is to be a mother. but does grayson want to be a father?

warnings: fluff, light angst, crazy baby fever (hehe)

tag list: @reminiscentreader @beautifulmusicengineer @grc-tig @lyrrrr @runnningoutofink @haniya1234 @cocomowgy @anintellectualintellectual @thechildofshadows @diamondrattherevenge @sturntaped @atropinenightshade @deepestwitchtraveler @queenslovetoread

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

LYRA:

Lyra has always loved kids; babies and toddlers were a soft spot for her, and having taken care of her brother plenty of times while he was one has only made those feelings much more prominent.

But never in her life has she ever felt like this.

“Baby fever”, her friend told her one day as she finally came clean to her about how she felt, “is something that you feel when you see an extremely cute baby, or someone you’re with handle an extremely cute baby, and all you want is to have one.”

Well, there was no better way to put it. Lyra had baby fever.

She wasn’t even sure that she could get baby fever; it had just never occurred to her before.

Until those 3 instances.

INSTANCE 1:

Lyra was bored out of her mind, picking at her fingernails as she tried to seem interested in the conversation.

When Lyra was 13, the publishing firm that her mother usually consulted for her books hired a new person, named Sheila. Sheila and her mother quickly became friends, and even more quickly Lyra noticed how Sheila was much more involved in her life.

But before her 16th birthday, she had moved to Canada to pursue a better job. Now, 8 years later, she was visiting again, and just had to see how Lyra and her husband were doing.

Lyra honestly liked the visit. It was nice, and nostalgic seeing her again… at first. But hours had passed and it seemed Lyra was booted to the corner as Sheila was insistent on questioning Lyra’s “handsome Hawthorne husband”.

Lyra rolled her eyes once she realized each word in her “saying” all started with an H.

“Ooh, the bread!” Sheila suddenly gasped, drawing Lyra’s attention to the conversation. And just as she shouted out, like clockwork, her baby began to cry in the next room. Sheila sighed.

“One moment,” she said, getting up. Grayson and Lyra shared a glance that seemingly said thank god, before Sheila came back, holding an adorable baby that couldn’t be more than 6 months old.

“Here. I forgot I had a loaf of homemade bread still in the oven, so watch little Erin for me, will you?” she asked, pushing the little girl into Grayson’s arms. Grayson looked surprised for a moment, but that all changed within a second. He immediately cradled the girl, his hand resting protectively under her head, as he pulled her tiny body into his chest.

Lyra’s heart squeezed at the sight. The mix of seeing Grayson, the same man who bleeds power and doesn’t need to say a word to get what he wants, cradle this little girl like she was glass—it gave her a fervent feeling, one that felt like electricity in her stomach.

He cradled Erin in his arms, rocking her from side to side while shushing quietly, and soon enough, the baby was silent. Lyra balled her hands into fists. What she was seeing… it wasn’t just cute. It wasn’t just Grayson being gentle with a baby.

It was so much more than that, and Lyra knew it.

She was staring. She knew she was, but she had never seen a more perfect sight in her life: Grayson gazing at Erin with a soft expression, the baby sitting in his arms like a little porcelain doll. Grayson looked up, caught her gaze, and smiled.

“She’s adorable, right?” he said. Oh, Lyra thought. He assumed I was staring like that at the baby. Lyra fixed her face into a soft expression, like she hadn’t just wanted to make Grayson a-

Nope, Lyra thought, running that thought into the wall before it could fully form.

“Yes, yup, she is.” Lyra said, feigning normalcy the best she could as she swallowed. Grayson raised a brow, and she could tell that he could see straight through her, when Sheila reentered the room.

“Oh my God, you are just perfect!” Sheila erupted. She clasped a hand to her mouth when Erin stirred, as if silently chastising herself. Still, she laughed. “It takes me hours to put her to bed. And here you are, managing it within minutes. Thank you!” Sheila carefully took Erin from Grayson’s arms, and Lyra immediately saw how his demeanour changed. His posture returned to its rigidness, his hands clasped in his lap.

But Lyra saw how holding that baby affected him.

His expression was softer now, more relaxed, and a subtle smile was still playing on his lips.

Lyra cursed herself right then and there, because she knew she would never forget how he looked then.

She never could call to mind pictures, but she would remember his gentle shushes, his soft laughter. She’d remember that.

“Oh, look at the time. It seems we should be leaving now.” Grayson said, glancing at his watch.

Lyra got up, and Grayson and her said their goodbyes as they walked out the door.

But as they made their way to the car, Lyra couldn’t shake the idea of Grayson holding another baby with that kind of delicateness, one that shared his features.

INSTANCE 2:

It had been 2 weeks since the visit at Sheila’s house, and Lyra had just begun to get a handle on her mixture of feelings. The drive back had been nearly silent as Grayson tried to figure out why her mood had changed, but Lyra just claimed that she was tired and wanted to go to bed.

He finally obliged and let it go. But once Grayson was asleep, she searched up videos of babies on her phone.

She had deleted the search the next day and never searched something like that again, but just the sheer fact that she had was enough to send her thoughts on a downward spiral.

Lyra’s eyes caught on something in the aisle of the grocery store she was in mid-thought, and she froze.

Baby formula. Diapers. Baby food.

Lyra’s eyes felt stuck on the items, and she was suddenly lost in imagination: of walking to the store hand in hand with Grayson, a bump on her stomach, while searching this exact aisle for things she would soon need.

Stop it. You’re being ridiculous, Lyra told herself as she quickly turned away from the items with reddened cheeks. Just as she did, she saw Grayson stand from where he was crouching to grab a pack of toilet paper. Lyra swallowed, trying her best to fix her face. Grayson opened his mouth to speak, when Lyra unintentionally cut him off.

“Ready to go?” Lyra said, expecting her voice to come out casual.

God was she wrong.

Her words sounded robotic and rehearsed to her own ears, and Lyra was pretty sure that there was still a light blush on her cheeks.

Grayson immediately raised a brow, a ravishing smile appearing on his face, when out of the corner of Lyra’s eye, she saw a little girl wander into the aisle.

Grayson and Lyra both turned their heads immediately, and saw that her eyes were filled with tears and she seemed to be looking around for someone.

Grayson started to walk forward, crouching down to her level. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asked her gently. Lyra walked forward too—finally in control of her limbs—when she felt the electric pulse in her stomach again.

Lyra forced every thought down as she stepped closer to the little girl, who couldn’t be older than 4.

“I can’t find my mommy.” the girl whispered, a sob breaking into the end of her sentence. Grayson rose to his feet.

“Here, why don’t my wife and I help you find her?” Grayson said, and immediately after he spoke the words, the little girl took his hand, her eyes drifting to Lyra’s.

“Okay.” she said, sniffling.

Lyra felt like her heart was going to combust.

The sight of 6’0 Grayson Hawthorne holding hands with this little 3-apples-tall girl made her stomach twist and turn with cuteness, as well as an overflowing need to see something like this one the daily basis. To have a little girl of her own, and have Grayson hold her hand the same gentle way he was holding it now.

“What does your mom look like?” Lyra asked, finally getting a grip on her emotions. Calm down, Lyra told herself. You’re just ovulating. Or you’re going through a phase. Or—

All thoughts paused at once as the girl reached out with her other free hand to hold Lyra’s.

Okay, seeing her husband who has literally shattered egos with a look hold this adorable girls hand was like an emotional rollercoaster. But the girl holding Lyra’s hand herself? Lyra was suddenly speechless.

“She was wearing a blue sweater, and—and she has blonde hair.” she stuttered, tears still falling down her face, but more slowly now.

Lyra had to remember that this girl needed to find her mother, and that now wasn’t a good time to be thinking about babies and motherhood.

“Well, let’s try and look for her, and if we can’t find her in a couple minutes we’ll tell customer service and they can try and find her on the intercom.” Grayson reasoned, his voice still gentle. Lyra and Grayson rounded the corner—and immediately found who they were looking for.

“Oh, there you are!” the girl’s presumed mother sighed, clutching her in your arms. “Don’t run off like that Gabby.”

Gabby stopped crying, squeezing the woman back. “Sorry, mommy.” Gabby said, although Lyra could see relief on her little face. Lyra couldn’t help but let a smile sneak onto her face, her eyes softening.

“Thank you so much for looking after her.” The woman told Lyra and Grayson, a kind smile on her face.

“It was our pleasure.” Grayson said. Then he tilted his head slightly, his gaze turning to Gabby’s. “Try to stick closer to your mom next time, okay Gabby?”

Gabby nodded, wiping her tears and whispering a “thank you” in a voice so gentle that Lyra’s heart couldn’t help but warm. The woman smiled at Lyra and Grayson a moment longer, before turning and walking away, little Gabby still in her arms. Lyra watched her go a moment longer, before turning to Grayson.

"You handled that pretty well, huh?" Lyra said, her voice conversational. But even she heard how forced it sounded. Grayson looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes as one eyebrow raised, before speaking.

"Hm. You did too, you know." Grayson replied. Then he dipped his head down, meeting her gaze with the slightest smile on his lips. "Is everything okay, Lyra?"

Lyra's eyes widened, before she feigned normalcy again. "Yes, of course. Everything's fine." she said. Grayson's brow raised even higher.

"Really?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you've been acting... different."

Lyra scoffed. "Quit analysing me, asshole."

"Oh, my beautiful wife, you wound me." he said, despite the fact that the smile on his face grew. Lyra rolled her eyes before pulling him in for a kiss. It was a slow one, but Lyra knew that it couldn't escalate. Not in a very public grocery store.

She'd have to save her escalating kisses for home.

Lyra separated from him then, pulling a sound of protest from Grayson's lips, before latching onto his hand.

They walked along the store hand-in-hand then, but Lyra couldn't shake the feeling that holding that little girl's hand gave her. She couldn't shake the thought that this--this yearning feeling in her chest every time she saw a newborn, the stares at mothers in public, the feeling that she was missing out on something she desperately wanted to experience—wasn't simply temporary.

Maybe Lyra was rushing into a bad decision. Or maybe she just knew how she wanted the rest of her life to look like.

And besides... what's the harm in having the rest of her life start now?

INSTANCE 3:

Lyra padded into her kitchen, yawning and in desperate need of something.

But what?

Ah, yes. Coffee. She didn't have the best sleep that night, and knew that she had to do something about the tired feeling that was threatening to overcome her.

"Rough sleep?" Grayson's voice said behind her. Lyra turned around to see Grayson clad in a suit, holding his laptop bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He stepped forward, setting the mug down on the island in front of her. Lyra sighed, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

"Oh, you angel." Lyra said, Grayson laughed, watching her take a sip from the mug with soft eyes.

"Hm. It's funny how you went from calling me "asshole", to "angel"." Grayson remarked. Lyra shot him a glare.

"I still call you asshole, asshole." Lyra said, rolling her eyes. Grayson laughed.

"Charming." he said, smirking. Then he glanced at his watch, eyebrows raising. "Oh, I have to go. Can't be late."

He stepped forward, pressing a kiss to Lyra's lips.

"Bye sweetheart, I love you." Grayson said, pulling her in a little longer than necessary. Lyra giggled.

"Bye, love you too." she said. Then Grayson leaned down, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

"And bye to you, my other sweetheart." Grayson murmured against Lyra's old t-shirt. Lyra glanced down, laughing once she saw Grayson pecking the bulge poking out of stomach.

"Okay, bye! Don't be late!" Lyra chastised, pushing him off her stomach with a laugh. Grayson was about to say something, his eyes crinkling with love as he looked at her, and—

Lyra jolted upwards, her eyes wide as she tried to think through her mess of a brain. Okay, Lyra thought, utterly confused. You just woke up. You just woke up from a dream where you were p—

Her brain didn't allow her to finish that sentence.

Lyra sighed, smoothing a hand over her hair to try and calm herself down. Then she remembered a bit of her dream—the part where Grayson knelt down and kissed her stomach—and glanced down.

There was no bulge on her belly to be seen, and Lyra was, confusingly enough, disappointed about that.

Then she glanced to her side, and saw Grayson sleeping soundly beside her.

Lyra froze up, careful not to wake him but also not to overeact about her dream. Still, she was having trouble separating Grayson's sleeping form beside her, and the Grayson who had kissed her stomach and called the baby lying within his "other sweetheart".

Lyra pressed her palms to her eyes, emotions swirling within her, before she carefully crawled out of bed, tiptoeing out of her room and into the kitchen.

Once she made it there, she felt like the dream was all around her. Pressing into her with its comfort, showing her the glimpse of magic that life and motherhood promised, and it was all too much. Lyra sat down at the kitchen table, and it was all so clear: a little girl more stubborn than life, with piercing blue eyes and lightly tanned skin running around the kitchen, never afraid to love too fiercely or laugh too loudly. A boy, sitting on the counter with his mother's eyes, and fathers patience, reading out loud from a book that was his favourite.

This, Lyra thought, eyes shining with tears and the mist of hope, is what I want my life to look like.

Then a sudden fear overwhelmed her when she realized that she didn't want it in 10 years. She didn't want it after her amd Grayson share their 5 year anniversary as a married couple. She wanted it now.

Not now, as in right at this moment. But now as in in this year. Or the next. But the aching need was so fervent that Lyra couldn’t shake it any longer.

Obviously she’d have to talk to Grayson. But she didn’t want to, because she was so terrified that he wouldn’t want it and that that dream would be put on hold.

No matter what, she would stick with Grayson. He was the love of her life; even if he decided he never wanted kids, Lyra would always stand by her husband.

But that dream—that had reminded her of the life that was simply waiting for her, that she wanted so badly to have.

Lyra pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes. How was she supposed to tell Grayson?

Lyra had gone the whole day without cracking from the sheet weight of her confession—that she wanted to have a baby.

Grayson had obviously been suspecting something. She could tell when his brow furrowed at Lyra’s jitters, when Lyra’s words always tended to come out sounding robotic and rehearsed, and most importantly, when Lyra nearly jumped 20 feet just because Grayson had accidentally brushed her stomach.

She knew she had to keep it together, but that was just so difficult when she had just experienced 3 life changing instances that had given Lyra her desire for motherhood. For parenthood, with Grayson by her side.

But she hadn’t talked to him about it.

Yet, her mind said defensively. But not yet was still a no.

Lyra huffed, knowing in her heart what she had to do.

After dinner, once Grayson had finally relented and stopped bothering Lyra with questions on her behaviour, Lyra made up a lie about wanting to grab some ice cream from the store for a movie night. She had told Grayson to prepare the snacks, but that was only so that he wouldn’t offer to join her.

The ice cream was just a diversion, anyway.

Lyra got into her car after walking out of the grocery store, ice cream tub in hand, as she reached for her phone. This is what she had planned on doing the second she offered to get ice cream, needing the privacy. She clicked on her phone app, pressing a number and waiting as the line dragged on. After a couple beats, the person on the other end answered.

“Hello?” Libby chirped. Lyra exhaled, feeling like she had been holding her breath for this entire day.

“Libby. I need to talk to you about something, it’s urgent.” Lyra said, her voice serious. There was a pause—before Libby spoke.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Libby asked, the lightness in her voice from before diminishing. Lyra swallowed.

“When did you…” Lyra trailed off. Cleared her throat. Spoke again. “When did you know that you wanted kids with Nash?”

There was a beat of silence. Two.

And then Lyra was surprised to hear Libby’s sweet laugh on the other end of the line.

“Libby!” Lyra gasped, and offended look on her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Libby said, trying to stop her laughing. “It’s just… you have baby fever. I know what that’s like.” Lyra rolled her eyes, even though there was no hostility behind the movement.

“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve been told.” Lyra sighed. But Libby still went on.

“But to answer your question truthfully… I didn’t really know. It was something we had talked about, but never fully planned. All I could remember was holding that pregnancy test, not wanting to look at the results because I didn’t want to be disappointed if it was negative. And then all I could do was dream; of a life with Nash, with our own children, living life our own way. All I could imagine was having impromptu dance parties, and rolling down grassy hills, and wiping flour off little noses—and I wanted nothing more than to do all that with Nash by my side. Because I just knew in my heart that a man like that would be the greatest father there was. That we would both raise our kids to be who they liked—and we both knew in our hearts that they would always be enough for us.” Libby whispered, her voice hopeful.

Lyra was frozen. Her eyes shined with tears as she heard Libby’s words repeating in her head.

She wanted that. She wanted that so bad.

But did Grayson?

“Yeah, that’s—“ Lyra spoke, only to be cut off by her sniffles. Lyra regained her composure, before speaking again. “That’s exactly how I feel. I want to be a mother so bad. I want to be a mom with Grayson by my side as a dad. But… I haven’t talked to him about it yet.” Libby sighed.

“Yeah. I never really experienced that—I mean, Nash came to me first about having kids and I too wanted them—but I know how hard that must be. Still, Lyr you have to talk to him.” Libby said. Lyra knew when Libby used her nickname—Lyr—that she was being genuine. Lyra sighed.

“Yeah. I know.” Lyra said, her voice soft. Then she snorted. “So… I didn’t tell you about my dream last night that kind of lit the spark of this downwards spiral into wanting children… did I?”

Libby snorted. “Why, was the dream dirty?” she teased. Lyra laughed, but her cheeks reddened as well.

“What—no, Libby I swear.” Lyra laughed. Libby giggled on the other end. “It wasn’t dirty. It was just… it was just something that looked like a glimpse of my future.” Lyra could tell that Libby grew more serious now.

“I woke up. I walked to the kitchen, and Grayson was there. He handed me a cup of coffee, dressed and ready to go to work, and all seemed fine at first. It felt like I was awake because of how normal it was. And then Grayson had to leave, so he wouldn’t he late for work, and he—“ Lyra spoke, abruptly cutting herself off. Lyra swallowed, before continuing. “And he gave me a kiss. Said, “bye, sweetheart”. And then, he leaned down, and kissed my stomach. He said “bye, my other sweetheart”. Then when I glanced down, I saw a bulge on my stomach.” Libby was still listening, even thought Lyra paused, and she knew she had Lib’s entire focus.

“I woke up soon after. I remember thinking how ridiculous I was for dreaming something like that. How ridiculous I was for wanting it when I hadn’t even spoken to Grayson yet about anything. But then I remember walking into the kitchen, and feeling an aching hollowness in my chest. Because my dream was here—in my kitchen, with Grayson and I—but the one thing that made it so special wasn’t. I wasn’t pregnant. We weren’t going to have a baby. And I just—“ Lyra’s voice broke mid sentence, a small sob coming out of her lips as she realized tears were beginning to trail down her face. “I felt like I was going to cry. Because I wanted that so badly—but it felt too out of reach.”

Lyra couldn’t help the tears that followed then, trying to keep them as silent as possible, before a sniffle on the other end of the line made Lyra freeze.

“Libby, are you… crying?” Lyra asked, momentarily stopping. Libby sniffled again.

“…Yes.” she said, her voice breaking with a sob. Lyra laughed, despite the fact that there were still tears in her eyes.

“Libby!”

“I’m sorry, I know that this is about you right now,” Libby said, laughing herself even though she was still sniffling. “But I just feel so empty for you. Listen, babe, the only thing you can do right now is tell Grayson. You have to talk to him about how you feel. Then, if he feels the same way, your dream won’t be so out of reach.” Libby paused, clearing her throat. “And even if he doesn’t, you have your whole life to talk about that.”

Lyra’s face shifted, her expression filled with grief. “But I don’t want to wait my whole life.” she whispered. Libby paused—but only for a moment.

“Honey,” she spoke, her voice soft. “Should you be telling me this? Or Grayson?”

Lyra knew the answer. But she stayed silent, working through her emotions.

“Okay.” Lyra said, her voice slightly more determined now. “I’ll go back home, and I’ll talk to him. Thanks Libby.”

“It was my pleasure. But wait—go back home? Where are you right now?” Libby asked. Lyra snorted.

“Oh, yeah. I went out to get ice cream for a movie night, but honestly I just needed an excuse to be alone so I could call you. I’m too paranoid to do it in the house.” Lyra said. Libby laughed.

“Yeah, that sounds right. Okay babe, I have to go but call me if you need anymore help.” Libby said, and Lyra heard some high voices yelling on her end of the phone. Her heart warmed. Kids, alright.

“Okay. Bye Libby, love you.” Lyra said.

“Love you too.” Libby replied. Then she hung up, and Lyra finally removed her phone from her ear.

She started the car—and knew what she had to do when she got home.

Lyra walked through the door, holding the ice cream tub in one hand and car keys in another. She threw her car keys on the counter, padding into the kitchen after Grayson. All she could smell was popcorn popping in the microwave, but all she could hear was the beating of her heart. God was she nervous.

“Hey, I’m back.” Lyra called out, before stepping into the kitchen and seeing Grayson pour some chips into a bowl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Grayson replied, before turning around—and freezing. He placed the bag of chips down, and walked over to her.

“Hey, what happened?” Grayson asked, his voice soft as his hands reached out to cup her face. Lyra looked up. How could he always tell when she’d been crying?

“What do you mean?” Lyra asked.

But she stuttered slightly.

Grayson’s eyebrows furrowed as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Did somebody hurt you?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes flamed with something dangerous. Lyra shook her head.

“No, no! Nothing like that.” Lyra replied. Grayson looked confused, but that didn’t overshadow the caring look on his face.

“Then what?” he asked gently. Lyra squeezed her eyes shut, before she took the hands that held her face, tugged then off gently, and held them in her own hands instead. When she opened her eyes, Grayson’s face was just as caring. Just as kind.

That only made this so much harder.

“Grayson—“ she tried to speak, but a sob immediately broke into her words, the aching longing in her chest finally breaking through. Grayson immediately pulled her into his arms, shushing her with a soft voice.

“It’s okay. Just talk to me.” Grayson told her gently. Lyra sniffled. There was no other way to do this—not without breaking into tears—than ripping off the bandaid, so that was exactly what Lyra did.

“I want to have a baby.” she blurted.

Lyra wanted to punch herself across the face.

Grayson immediately tensed, and all Lyra wanted to do was scream. Why did she have to tell him like that?

“You…” he trailed off, voice thick as he pulled her out of his arms, gripping onto her shoulders as his eyes bored into hers. “You want to have a baby?” Lyra swallowed, before speaking.

“Yes.” she said. Then, feeling like she owed him more, she continued. “I have for weeks. I wanted to ever since I saw you holding Sheila’s baby, or when you helped out that little girl in the grocery store, or—“ Lyra cut herself off when she realized she was about to tell Grayson about her dream. Embarrassed, Lyra improvised. “Or when you care about me, and look after me, and protect me even when I yell at you for trying. It’s just—“ Lyra laughed, even as she had tears in her eyes. She swallowed.

“It’s just that I can’t think of a man more worthy of being a father than you. And I want that life so badly—us as parents, raising kids who are always going to be perfect because they’re ours, no matter their flaws.” Lyra finished, a sob rattling her chest. Grayson was still frozen. But then he moved, clutching her closer.

“Lyra—“ he started to say, his voice hoarse with emotion, when Lyra interrupted him.

“I know. I know I shouldn’t just push this on you now, and I know I should have talked to you about this before. I just wanted—“

Before Lyra could even finish speaking, Grayson seized her lips with his own, drawing a breath from them as Lyra kissed him back. Somehow, every brush of their lips spoke the words that were stuck and muddled between them.

I love you.

I trust you.

Whatever happens, this will never change.

Finally the two separated with a breath, more words spoken between them then they could ever admit. Grayson was silent at first, tracing Lyra’s back in the gentlest way which told Lyra that he was thinking, before finally speaking.

“I’ve thought about it too.” Grayson admitted, his voice low with the hush of a confession. Lyra looked up, surprise etched into her features, before Grayson continued. “I’d scroll through texts between me and Nash, Libby’s social media accounts, seeing photos of Hannah and Kylie and… and I would feel something in my gut. Something that told me that all I wanted was that with you. But I buried it because it just seemed so…”

“Out of reach?” Lyra finished, her voice a mere whisper. Grayson’s eyes met hers, longing and hope and something else mixed in them.

“Exactly.” Grayson whispered back. Then he smoothed a hand over her hair, letting out a breath. “I didn’t want to rush you. I mean, I’m 27, but you’re 24. That’s only 2 years older than I was when I met you, Lyra.”

Grayson’s hands kept smoothing over her hair, each touch gentle and delicate like she was made of glass.

“I talked to my brothers, and they said maybe to wait a bit before talking to you about it. So as not to rush you.” Grayson admitted, his voice soft. He looked like he was going to say something else, his face full of uncertainty, before Lyra simply tilted her head up and kissed him. Grayson seemed surprised for a moment, before kissing her back, and somehow with every press and pull Lyra could feel the emotions that Grayson had been hiding.

She knew that he could feel hers, too.

Once they separated, Grayson bowed his head down, touching his forehead to hers before speaking.

“You want this.” Grayson whispered, awe and hope underlying in his voice.

“I do.” Lyra whispered back.

They would have to take it one step at a time, and maybe have another conversation. But Lyra knew in her heart that she was ready, and once Grayson was too, the life that was waiting for them was going to be full of love, happiness, and warmth, as well as accidents, messes, and the struggles of parenthood

But nonetheless, even with its faults as well as upsides, Lyra couldn’t wait for it to unfold.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

THANKS BABESSSS IM ALMOST DONE MY LYRASON BABY FEVER FIC NOW HEHE 🤭🤭

bro i forgot how much i love your fics

AHHH STOP IT BRUSKI I LOVE U 💞💞💞

i havent had a lot of motivation to write lately, but once i finish the 2 fics im currently working on (part 3 to my lyrason boss x assistant au (which is almost done) and a lyrason baby fever fic (halfway through)) ive decided im going to try something new!!

i always write long fics, but i think i want to try limiting myself as much as possible (lmao i know that sounds bad but just hold on) and try writing smaller pieces of work to write them quicker!!

i lowkey wanna lock in and finish the part 3 to the lyrason boss x assistant au tonight bc im ALMOST DONE, and then try getting the baby fever one done by thursday/friday.

also i wanna try writing on my laptop!! i usually get more writing done when working on my laptop for school work, so i bet it’d work just the same with fics :))

anywayssss thats the plan. ALSO I WANNA GO THRU MY INBOX AND TRY AND GET THE EASIERISH FIC REQUESTS DONE!! then the ones that may require more writing/i have a more thought out plan for i can work on later

ANYWAYSSSS THATS ALL!! u just reminded me to lock in so thats what im about to do 😈😈

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

okay, its about TIME i make a taglist

if u want to be tagged in my fanfiction posts, please comment on this post!!

thanks <333

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

is it casual? - a lyra x grayson au fic

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

—————now playing: casual by doja cat ♫ ♪

pairings: lyra kane x grayson hawthorne. tags: boss x assistant au. part 1, part 2

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

LYRA:

Lyra was just in the midst of finishing up a document when she got the notification from Grayson to enter his office. She had seen Jameson Hawthorne enter just a couple minutes prior, and assumed that her presence was requested so that her boss wouldn’t strangle him.

Lyra had only been working for Grayson for about 2 weeks, but his brothers’ teasing was something that she had long known about.

Lyra sighed, getting up and mentally preparing herself.

“Yes?” she asked. Grayson blew out a breath at her entrance, clearly having been pushed to the brink by his brother.

“We have a client that we need to meet with.” Grayson said, sliding a paper over his desk. “Do you think you can arrange a meeting with him? I have…” Grayson gave Jameson a mean side stare as Lyra picked up the paper. “other things to deal with at the moment.” Jameson just held his hands up, a dangerous smirk settling on his lips.

“I haven’t been doing anything.” Jameson retorted. Then he gasped, pointing at Grayson’s forehead. “Hey, I’ve never seen this forehead vein before. Does this mean you’ve reached a new level of disappointment in me?” Grayson stood up.

“Shut your mouth, Jameson.” Grayson snapped. Jameson turned to her.

“Please make your boss stop talking to me.” Jameson said. Lyra raised a brow at him, thoroughly amused with this entire altercation.

“If only I had that power.” Lyra said, wistfully. Grayson looked offended, but Jameson only laughed. She caught Grayson’s eye, and saw that although he was offended, the annoyed look in his eye from Jameson wasn’t there for her. There was something softer there instead.

Something that Lyra both wanted, and feared.

She looked away.

“Anyway, I’m just here to take Avery to breakfast.” Jameson said, finally using a serious tone. The mention of Avery’s name brought Lyra back to a time where she had watched that interview, where she thought that no person who could kiss like that could be all evil. Where she had put hope in Grayson, before realizing that she didn’t need his help, that she couldn’t want it.

And that went double for right now. After all, she was his assistant, not his damsel in distress.

Grayson gave Jameson an exasperated look, sending Lyra back to the present.

“Then go do that.” he gritted out, giving Jameson a cold stare. Jameson grinned.

“Aye aye, boss.” He said, saluting Grayson before walking out. Lyra smiled as she watched a vein pulse in Grayson’s forehead. Annoyed, indeed.

“I’m going to go get a coffee, and then I’ll arrange a meeting with the man you mentioned. Would you like a coffee yourself?” Lyra asked. Grayson looked up at her, his eyes lingering on hers.

“Yes, that would be great. And you remember how I like it?” Grayson asked. Lyra rolled your eyes.

“Nobody could forget an order that looks and tastes like Hades’ go-to.” Lyra retorted. Grayson’s lips twitched.

“Again with the comment on how I drink my coffee?” he said.

“It has a taste that is just as disgusting and despicable as the person drinking it.”

“It has health benefits.”

“Oh, yes,” Lyra said, dragging out the words to make her point. Already she could see Grayson shift, as if preparing himself for her next tease. “You often skip lunch, immerse yourself in work, and stay in the office late despite the fact that you send me home right on time even on our busiest days. But no, you’re extremely healthy because you drink black coffee.” Grayson’s eyebrows raised as he straightened, his eyes challenging.

“You shouldn’t be able to say that to me.” he said, almost as if remarking the logic of it himself. Grayson often played the power card, but it was more to see how she’d react, never to restrict her. And, as always, Lyra didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, she shrugged a shoulder at him, before starting for the door with a retort on her tongue.

“And yet I just did.”

GRAYSON:

Grayson took a sip of his black coffee, mentally hearing what Lyra would say if she saw him. Her and her comments.

But at the same time, Grayson would be lying if he said he didn’t love them. If he said he didn’t purposefully say things that would rile her up, that would cause her to give him one of her quick jabs. And yet I just did. That was feisty. And Grayson loved it.

Shaking his head with a smile, Grayson continued to review a document. And another. And another. He continued this process for another 5 minutes until Lyra entered through the door, once again. He could feel her presence before her hand even reached for the knob. Never knocking, of course. That “wasn’t her thing”, as she stated the 4th day on the job when Grayson had questioned her about it.

“Grayson, I have a little problem.” Lyra said, holding the document regarding the client he had asked her to plan a meeting with. Grayson raised a brow, leaning forward with curiosity.

“What is it?” he inquired. Lyra stepped closer and placed the document on his table.

“The client you want to meet with. He wants to meet over drinks.” Lyra said. Grayson grimaced. That was something that he had to explain to Lyra. Investors and clients who want to meet over drinks only waste your time. Grayson had been working at the foundation for years now, and thats something that he’d learned time and time again after being screwed over by men who claimed that “any good deal can be shaken on over drinks”.

“I know.” Lyra said, reading his expression.

“Did you try to convince him to change the location?” Grayson asked. Lyra’s lips formed a thin line.

“Yes. Multiple times. But he insisted that it was either drinks, or nothing.” she said. Then, under her breath, muttered, “what an asshole”. Grayson gave her a cautionary look, but didn’t say anything else. She wasn’t exactly wrong, anyway.

“Okay. I think we’re just going to have to meet up over drinks. Arrange a time with him and we’ll discuss things then.” Grayson finally said after going over his options in his head. Lyra shrugged as if saying “if you say so”, and was about to walk out when Grayson spoke.

“Oh, and Lyra, maybe let me stick to the conversations. You’re good at meeting clients, but you get to the point at the speed of light and leave no room for small talk.” Grayson told her. Lyra looked downright offended.

“I’m a great conversationalist. It’s just not my fault that I don’t have much practice; I don’t think you’ve ever spoken to me at work about something other than work.” Lyra retorted, an offended look still on her face. Grayson raised a brow at her, a smile touching his lips.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t asked you about the weather enough.” he said, his voice genuine despite the sarcasm in his comment. Lyra gave him a look.

“You should be. Anyway, I need to go arrange a meeting with Mr. O’Reilly and pray that my terrible conversation skills get better in the time before the meeting.” Lyra said, still annoyed. She was about to reach for the doorknob when Grayson spoke.

“Oh, and Lyra?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes?” she asked, turning around. Grayson held her gaze for a moment, before a smile spread across his lips, slowly widening with every passing second as he could just picture her reaction to what he was about to say.

“Is that a new skirt?” he asked, his tone conversational. Lyra went still for a moment, before a glare found its way on her face and she rolled her eyes, walking out before Grayson could call her back in.

LYRA:

Lyra stepped out of Grayson’s car, surveying the bar that Shawn O’Reilly, the man that they were meeting with, had picked to discuss terms with. Lyra wasn’t one to judge by looks, but if she had a place in mind to meet with a client in, it was not this bar.

“I feel overdressed.” Lyra said, grimacing as she watched people in cowboy hats and casual attire walk into the bar, while she was clad in a brown peacoat, black skirt, lace leggings, and long black boots. Grayson glanced at her.

“The key is to look at everybody else as if they’re underdressed.” Grayson told her. Lyra gave him a look.

“And I’m guessing that that’s something you tell yourself everyday?” Lyra asked. Grayson’s lips quirked.

“You’ve guessed correctly.” he answered. Lyra huffed, before walking forward suddenly.

“Come on, Hawthorne. Don’t want to keep him waiting.” she said, her back facing him as she walked away from him and towards the bar.

They were 5 drinks in, and O’Reilly was completely untouched. It became harder to try and stay professional and on track when you were tipsy, but he seemed fine, talking on and on about some fishing trip and how they got lost, causing him to lose “precious work time”. Lyra side glanced at Grayson to see if he was affected, and on the surface, he looked completely fine.

But when she glanced at his hand, she could see his fingers tapping away on the table. Something he never did.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his hand, watching his lithe fingers gently graze the table again and again and again in a fidgeting manner, before Lyra finally regained some dignity and looked away.

She suddenly brushed her body against Grayson’s, their shoulders touching and their eyes meeting as she tried to communicate her thoughts: O’Reilly is fine and we’re tipsy. We’re never going to negotiate like this.

Grayson seemed to understand, and she could se him turning towards O’Reilly in an attempt to make an excuse, when O’Reilly bursted out laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re a couple, aren’t you?” he asked. Lyra’s cheeks turned bright red and all she could hear was Grayson’s quick rebuttals, before Shawn spoke up again.

“You know, there’s no need to deny it. I can tell. My wife and I met because she was my secretary.” Shawn said, his eyes sparkling. “You know, I understand why you’re trying to hide it. Me and my wife faced a lot of criticism for dating. But you should have told me! I just gained a shit ton of respect for you two kids.” Lyra, even in her drunken state, heard his words and knew what she had to do. I just gained a shit ton of respect for you two kids, he had said. And it didn’t seem like we were getting anywhere before. The only way Lyra and Grayson were going to land a deal with this guy… was if they played along.

“You’ve caught us!” Lyra giggled, interrupting Grayson’s denials as she latched onto his arm. There was one moment where she glanced up, and saw the look on his face. Like confusion, and doubt, and something else that was lingering in his eyes. Lyra stared at him for a second, trying to communicate what she was thinking.

Just trust me, her eyes said. Grayson was still for a beat, before he turned to Shawn.

“We didn’t know whether or not to be public about our relationship, and it’s new, so we’re just taking it slow.” Grayson told O’Reilly. The mans face brightened.

“I get it. You’re young, and in love. Just take your time.” Shawn told them. Lyra nodded.

“Thank you.” she told O’Reilly, taking Graysons hand in hers. His hands were cold in contrast to Lyra’s warm ones, and she felt the effect of them—the effect of him—like being dunked into cold water. She felt like she was doing something wrong.

But worst of all, she felt like she wasn’t capable of letting go.

“Hey, Gray, why don’t we take 5 to go discuss something in the hall quickly, hm?” Lyra asked, placing her chin in her hands as she looked flirtatiously at Grayson. Grayson nodded along, acting out his part, but she could feel him tense beside her, could hear him swallow. Was he…. no, Lyra wasn’t that good at flirting.

“We’ll be back in a bit.” she said to O’Reilly, still holding Grayson’s hand in hers as they both got up from the table. O’Reilly just grinned.

“Take your time,” he told them, before downing another drink. Lyra giggled, dragging Grayson away to the hallway. As soon as they were out of the crowd, Lyra let go of his hand, and she could hear him let go of a breath.

“This is good. We can use this to our advantage!” Lyra told him. Grayson looked at her.

“You’re drunk. We can’t do anything anymore.” Grayson said, turning away from her. Lyra snorted.

“I’m not drunk. Well, I am a tad, but thats it. We can still land this client.” she said, stepping forward to him. Grayson turned around suddenly, but his movements were sloppier than usual. So he was also affected by the alcohol, Lyra thought.

“All we’ve done is convince a man we’re dating.” Grayson told her. Lyra shrugged.

“It’s working out for us. Who cares?” she said. There was silence from him, before suddenly, he stepped forward, the space between them diminishing quickly.

“Did you care, at all, about what you were lying about?” he asked. Lyra was taken aback. Did she care that she was lying about them dating? Maybe. Maybe she cared because she was upset that it was a lie. But Lyra couldn’t tell her boss that.

“Did you?” she retorted instead, raising her chin to look him in the eye. Grayson was still, the seconds passing by feeling like a millennium, before he suddenly raked a hand through his hair, breathing in quickly through his nose.

“Yes.” he said sharply. Lyra went still. So still. She hadn’t expected that answer out of him, and now the tension between them only grew, clogging her mind as she tried to think past it and the alcohol. But for some reason, she simply couldn’t. She was about to say something else, when Grayson spoke again.

“What did you call me back there?” he asked, almost as if checking he had heard her correctly. His eyes were sharp, but his pupils were wide, and his body only seemed to be getting closer to hers. Lyra could have lied. But she didn’t.

“Gray.” she repeated. Grayson’s eyes immediately squeezed shut, and he tensed completely, his hands clenching at his sides. When he opened his eyes again, all Lyra could do was stare. And stare. His eyes looked like they should be freezing cold, rigid and strict, but right now they seemed anything but. What were they doing?

Why did Lyra want this so bad?

She couldn’t feel her limbs move. They felt like liquid when she brought a hand up to his face while the other gripped his arm. Lyra wanted to blame the alcohol for her foolishness, but she couldn’t help but think of the classic saying:

Drunk words are sober thoughts.

So when Grayson dipped his head down, Lyra didn’t push him away.

“Tell me to stop,” Grayson said softly, his voice bordering on a plead. Lyra froze. Tell me to stop. Maybe she should. But oh God, right now she didn’t want to. Instead, Lyra met his eyes, her fierceness meeting his doubt head on. And then Grayson was pressing her back into the wall and bringing his lips to hers, kissing her with those lips of his, and Lyra could feel it all. The racing of her heart, the pattering of his beneath his wrist, everything. The kiss was slow at first, gentle, like he was toeing the line, before suddenly, Grayson was deepening it. Lyra gasped before she was kissing him back, each brush becoming more passionate and more careless as all she could think of was Grayson’s lips on her. And yet there was a sliver of doubt in the back of her mind.

Lyra was battling between desire and doubt, and right now, desire was winning.

But as Grayson began to trail kisses down her jaw, Lyra felt a thought of doubt pop into her mind, somehow there even through all the emotions she was currently feeling.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Lyra whispered, even as she kissed Grayson the second his lips came up from her jaw. He kissed her back, moving a hand from her waist to her neck.

“Why not?” He whispered back. Suddenly, Grayson planted another kiss on her lips—and the enormity of what they had just done hit Lyra like a bucket of ice cold water. Why not?

She was his assistant, was why not. She was just a Kane. And he was a Hawthorne. He was golden, and she was simply silver. The second in command. His. Assistant.

How many lines had they just crossed?

Grayson backed away from her immediately, and she could tell just by the look on his face that he had realized the same thing. All they did was look at each other, a silent understanding of what they had just done on their faces, when suddenly Grayson spoke.

“Lyra—“ he said, before Lyra cut him off.

“We need to get back to the table. Mr. O’Reilly is waiting for us.” Lyra said. She wasn’t one to be able to sober up, but right then and there, it felt like there was a cold deep in her bones, removing the sluggish and disoriented feeling from before and replacing it with a hyperawareness. Grayson went still. 7 beats passed by where he remained still, before he finally nodded, passing a hand through his hair and walking past Lyra to the table. Lyra watched him go, waiting only a moment to follow. And yet her mind wouldn’t stop racing, one thought rising above them all to claim her attention

You never should have kissed him, her brain whispered. Because now that you did, the temptation to do it again will always be in the back of your mind.

GRAYSON:

Shit, was all Grayson could think, shit shit shit what did he just do? Grayson was never one for crude language, but right now was different. Right now, he had just crossed a line that should never have been crossed.

Does it matter? A voice whispered in the back of his head. You enjoyed it, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to—

Grayson shut his mind off efficiently, running that thought into the wall before it could fully form. He was tipsy. His mind was a wild mess, so who could blame him for an even wilder thought? Thats all that was. His drunk mind speaking.

Or, not so drunk anymore. That realization from earlier was like a slap to the face, or a shot of espresso, and he was sobering up quickly.

But he could feel Lyra’s footsteps behind him. He could never really hear them very much, and he supposed that her past as a ballerina was a result of that, but still, every movement felt like a hum that flourished under Grayson’s skin.

Finally, they made it back to the table. Grayson took a seat, pretending to be as normal as possible. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Lyra was doing the same.

“Well, well, well,” O’Reilly snickered, his eyes twinkling. “now where were you two?” Grayson swallowed.

“We were just discussing something in the hall.” He stated, his voice as nonchalant as possible. O’Reilly snorted.

“Was that “something” seeing how far you can jam your tongue down her throat?” O’Reilly asked.

Grayson just stared at him, his face expressing the mix of confusion and embarrassment and shock that he was feeling.

He looked at Lyra, and saw that hers was doing the same.

A split second later, Grayson morphed his features into neutrality.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grayson said, his words almost bordering on a threat. O’Reilly just bursted out laughing.

“Oh, c’mon! I had to use the bathroom and saw you two in the hall. Real classy.” He teased. Grayson swallowed. But Lyra just grinned.

“Well, why should we hide it? You found out that we were in a relationship anyway!” she laughed. Grayson looked at her. She was continuing the whole “dating” lie again. And Grayson had to play along. Not just for the sake of the business deal, but for some part of him that couldn’t get over every time Lyra would squeeze his hand, or lean into him. The man laughed with Lyra, and just as he was about to say something, a waitress walked over and handed them more drinks. O’Reilly blinked.

“I forgot I ordered those,” he said. Then he turned to Lyra and Grayson with a smile. “Drink up, lovebirds. It’s on me.”

Lyra looked at the shots in front of her, and Grayson could feel the polite decline on the tip of his tongue, before he watched Lyra grab a glass and down it. He stared in confusion. What was she doing?

“We’re going to be staying a bit longer anyway.” she explained, her face wincing from the alcohol. O’Reilly hooted.

“Hell yeah! Hey miss, top us off!” O’Reilly shouted to the poor waitress that had the misfortune of serving a man like Shane O’Reilly.

Lyra grabbed another shot, downing it, and although Grayson didn’t say anything, his entire body was rigid and tense as he came to an ice cold realization:

She was trying to drink away the memory of this night.

Lyra was absolutely battered. O’Reilly wasn’t far behind. And Grayson was on his millionth no, thank you after declining a drink offer again and again.

“Another round?” Shane asked. Grayson didn’t give Lyra the option of saying yes or no.

“Actually, I think we should be leaving. But I’ll call you again, Mr. O’Reilly.” Grayson said. O’Reilly smiled.

“You know what? I like you guys. How about we plan a meeting with some other investors, and I promise you we can settle something there, something worth your while.” Mr. O’Reilly said. “But as of right now… I’m more than a bit tipsy.” Grayson cocked an eyebrow. That was an understatement. Lyra got up too, but she stumbled doing so, and Grayson’s hand instinctively went to steady her. Lyra saluted the man.

“Thank you very much, Shane O’Reilly.” she said, her words caught in a slur. Shane blinked at her, before bursting out laughing.

“Oh, she’s drunk alright.” he said, before taking a swig of his beer. Grayson turned his attention to Lyra, helping her walk away from the booth.

“C’mon, Lyra. I’m driving you home.” Grayson said softly. Lyra turned to him like he had offended her.

“No,” she scoffed, more than a little dramatically. “I’m taking the bus.”

She then proceeded to stomp away faster than Grayson had ever seen anyone stomp, and he started following her.

“Lyra!” he called out, trying to get her attention in the loud bar. No answer. She continued walking until she made it outdoors, before stepping out the door and immediately sitting against the wall. Grayson stopped in front of her, confused by her sudden stop.

“Lyra, are you okay?” he asked. She just made a hm sound in response. Grayson sighed, before taking her gently below the armpits and pulling her up to her feet. She looked disoriented, clearly drunk—but at the same time, glowing, like there was an air of freedom around her. She’s beautiful, Grayson thought.

“I’m fine. I’m taking the bus, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” she said slowly, trying to not mush her words together. Grayson’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure there are many things I can do to stop you.” he retorted. Lyra rolled her eyes.

“Try me.” she spat, the sudden venom in her voice surprising Grayson. Try me.

Well, she quite literally asked for it.

Grayson gave her a blank look, before promptly picking her up, and tossing her over his shoulder.

Lyra immediately started to struggle, kicking her feet and demanding she be “put go”, which wasn’t even’t grammatically correct, while Grayson walked calmly to his car. He unlocked the car, opened the passenger door, and gently slid Lyra off his shoulder, placing her inside.

She seemed to have given up, slouching in the seat, while Grayson walked over to the drivers side.

As soon as he got into the car, Grayson issued a statement: “You’re not going to work tomorrow.”

Lyra snorted. “Uh, yes I am.” she said, laughing as if it was all one big joke. Grayson turned to look at her.

“You’re not. And buckle up.” he said. Lyra sighed dramatically, before buckling up.

“I am. You’re not the boss of me.” Lyra argued. Grayson made a face, pulling out of the parking lot.

“You are not, and I quite literally am the boss of you because… I am your boss.” Grayson said slowly. Lyra paused. Then sighed again.

“Oh. Right.” she slurred, dragging the words. Grayson allowed a smile to touch his lips.

“Where do you live?” he asked. Lyra looked at him, and continued staring for about 5 beats. But the second Grayson turned to look at her, she turned away, looking embarrassed.

“If I’m staying home, I need to get my laptop. I forgot it at work.” she explained. Grayson raised a brow.

“Fine. The office and then you’re going home.” Grayson said.

“Fine.” Lyra said. Grayson nodded.

“Okay.” Grayson said. Lyra whipped her head towards him.

“Great.” she spat, her voice very suddenly threatening. Grayson glanced at her, unsure of what to say in response to her sudden outburst.

“Per…fect?” he said, dragging out the words in a confused manner. Lyra stared at him, her eyes boring into his, before turning her entire body to face the window and crossing her arms.

“Asshole.” Lyra muttered not so quietly. Grayson smiled. There we go.

The drive back to the office was quiet, with Lyra fiddling with her hands and counting her fingers and doing random things that Grayson struggled to keep up with, before Grayson pulled into a parking spot and got out the car. He walked over to Lyra’s door, and opened it up for her. Lyra grinned at Grayson, catching him off guard.

“Wow. Such a gentleman.” she remarked.

She then proceeded to stumble right out of the car and into Grayson.

Grayson caught her, steadying her quickly by the shoulders, but Lyra was still giggling.

“Let’s go.” she said, determination fierce in her tone.

She stumbled mid walk.

Grayson sighed, before wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Warmth came off her body and embedded itself into his arms, and Grayson had to physically will away every thought that entered his head.

That was, until, Lyra turned to look at him.

Her eyes were wide, and there was a blush on her face that embellished her beauty in an intense manner. She placed a hand directly on his chest, and Grayson had to try not to stumble himself.

“Grayson?” Lyra asked, her voice soft. Grayson squeezed his eyes shut, looking away.

“We need to get your laptop. C’mon.” he managed, his voice rough and hoarse without even meaning to be. Lyra’s brows furrowed, before she was taking hesitant steps towards the door, Grayson’s strong arm allowing her not to fall.

Finally, they had made it up to his office. Grayson opened the door, and Lyra practically flung herself to his couch where her laptop bag was residing.

“Here!” she exclaimed, falling onto the couch. Grayson was immediately at her side.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Lyra blew out a breath.

“Yes, but…” she trailed off, her eyes closing. “I can’t move.” Grayson raised a brow.

“You can’t move?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

���Because your couch is too comfy.” she explained, immediately turning around to nuzzle into it. Grayson sighed, despite a smile working its way onto his face.

“Lyra…”

“Don’t make me get up Grayson. Please.” she said. Her voice was so soft, so gentle, that Grayson hated himself for what he did next. He sat her upright on the couch. She immediately protested, but Grayson spoke first.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I need to get you some water and food first. I think I might have a protein bar somewhere, and I keep a water bottle under my desk.” Grayson elaborated, setting off to go find those things. He searched the drawers of his desk, rummaging through things all while Lyra stared at him with a look in her eyes that Grayson couldn’t quite place. Finally finding the protein bar, Grayson grabbed it, and then took the water bottle from under his desk and started walking back to Lyra. He handed her the water first.

“Drink, please.” he said. She did, nearly draining the water bottle in its entirety. Had she drunken any water while she was drinking all that alcohol? Grayson was irritated with himself for not reminding her. Then he handed her the protein bar, and Lyra struggled with the packaging for a moment, before ripping the bar open, taking a bite, and making a face.

“Ew.” she said, mid chew. Grayson smiled.

“Protein bars are not that great,” he admitted. Lyra studied him.

“Why do you eat them then?” She asked, poking his chest. Grayson blinked at her, caught off guard by the movement.

“Because I go to the gym.” Grayson said, getting back on track. Lyra snorted.

“No surprise there. All handsome guys go to the gym.” she said. Grayson froze. Did she even hear what she said? She looked utterly unaffected, biting and chewing without a care in the world. Grayson’s smile widened.

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked, coming closer without realizing. Lyra realized what she’d done, looking up with wide eyes.

“Uh, so what?” she stuttered. “I said you’re handsome. Biggg deal. We’re not in elementary.”

Grayson was still smiling; he knew that she was drunk, but she had been so casual about saying it that Grayson was sure it wasn’t a lie.

“Here,” he said, still smiling as he handed her the water bottle with some water still left in it. “Drink. Then when you’re sober you and I can talk about how handsome I am together.”

Lyra rolled her eyes, but drank all the water, tossing it and the wrapper at the trash can in the corner of the room.

The wrapper didn’t make it very far, and the bottle hit the wall and fell to the floor.

Grayson had to physically hold back a laugh. “Okay, firecracker. Let’s get going before you destroy my office.” Grayson stood up straighter, waiting for Lyra to get up—whereas Lyra seemed glued to the couch.

“I can’t.” she said. Grayson raised a brow.

“You can’t?” he asked. She gave him a look.

“I can’t go anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“My legs don’t want to listen anymore.”

Grayson couldn’t help but laugh then, breathy and quiet, and he saw how Lyra’s eyes softened. He was just about to speak when she interrupted her.

“I barely ever hear that.” Lyra said. Grayson, caught off guard for a moment, looked at her.

“Hear what?” he asked.

“Your laugh,” she replied. Then, as if suddenly shy, she ducked her head down. “It’s nice.”

Grayson froze. His heart was beginning to hammer in his chest, and his hands flexed at his sides. This girl—this surprising, bold, beautiful girl—was making him go crazy. Just when he thought she would give him a break, and just when Grayson thought he could take her home without any other words from her that would further undo him, she spoke.

“If I asked you to kiss me again,” she breathed out, sitting on her knees and dragging Grayson’s face close to hers with his tie. “Would you?

Grayson’s face became inexplicably hot. His breathing was becoming more ragged, and every thought in his head was combing over every word she had just spoken, repeating it over and over like a sickly sweet mantra. If I asked you to kiss me again, would you?

Yes, Grayson thought then. He would.

But not in this state.

“Maybe someday,” he finally whispered back, his voice hoarse. “I’ll kiss you when it’s something that you won’t regret. But not right now. Not when you can’t fully consent.” Grayson drew his face back, finally putting space between them. Lyra huffed out. Pondered for a minute. Finally nodded.

“Okay.” she said simply. Grayson nodded.

“Okay.” he repeated. Lyra stared at him. Then she smiled.

“Did you mean what you said earlier today,” she said, a mischievous smile on her face, “about liking my skirt?”

Grayson froze. He swore his brain rebooted as Lyra giggled at the look on his face.

“It’s a nice skirt. Now c’mon, we should get going now.” Grayson said in a low voice, taking Lyra’s computer bag and holding a hand out for Lyra to grab. Lyra looked at his hand and just shook his head.

“I told you, my legs won’t listen to me!” she explained again, exasperated. Grayson sighed.

“Okay. Stay still.” he told her. Then Grayson slung Lyra’s arm around his neck and shoulders, took out an arm, and lifted her up around the back of her knees, her rear resting against his arm. Lyra clutched onto him, her eyes wide, and Grayson used the other hand to pick the computer bag back up.

“How are you doing that?” she blurted out. Grayson glanced up at her, practically perched on his arm, and shrugged.

“Handsome guys like me go to the gym, remember?” he said, a smirk coating his lips. Lyra huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes, looking away.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember…” she mumbled, a red tint tinging her face. Grayson’s smile just broadened, and he started to walk out the door towards his car.

One elevator ride later and a Lyra who kept kicking her feet while Grayson was carrying her, and they were outside. Grayson gently slid her off his arm, and helped her get into the passenger seat. Then he handed her his phone.

“Here. Type your address in. It’s for the GPS.” He told her. Lyra did just that, handing his phone back to him once he got inside the car.

“Feeling better?” he asked once he had his seat belt buckled up. Lyra looked at him. Blinked.

Then she whipped her head around, opened the car door, and hurled outside.

Grayson winced, holding her hair as her head hung out of the car, waiting for her to be finished. Once she was, Grayson offered her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth, and fished a water bottle out of the back seat.

“You have too many water bottles lying around.” Lyra mumbled drowsily, drinking out of the bottle. Grayson’s lips twitch.

“I try to stay hydrated, but…” Grayson trailed off. But he’d forget. But work would be so busy that he would ignore his dry throat. But he’d gotten so used to not having enough time to remind himself to drink water over the years that even with Lyra and the workload being less heavy, he would still be dehydrated constantly.

“But you’re too busy. I’ve noticed.” Lyra finished for him. Grayson glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot, surprise etching his features. Lyra glanced back at him curiously.

“Why do you think I moved the water cooler next to your office?” she said. Grayson was momentarily shocked. That was her? He just thought that it was a happy miracle, so he wouldn’t have to give himself the excuse of not wanting to go and get water, or refill his pretty small water bottle whenever it would be empty before lunch.

“I didn’t know that was you.” he admitted. Lyra laughed.

“Yeah, I know.” she said, smirking. “You also didn’t notice when I called someone to fix the lock that you always struggle with, or when I submitted a request to have the pothole in your parking spot fixed so that your car doesn’t get splashed with dirty water every time it rains, and…” her eyes twinkled. “Every time you ask me to get you a second coffee after lunch, I make it decaf.”

Grayson was shocked. He hadn’t noticed any of this. Not the lock that mysteriously started working better, or the parking spot that Grayson assumed had just been finally fixed. And he had never noticed the switch in his coffee.

“So you’re why I’m still tired after lunch.” Grayson accused, although his eyes were soft. Lyra snorted.

“Are you still tired after lunch?” she asked. Grayson felt his cheeks heat up as he realized that he, in fact, wasn’t still tired after lunch anymore. The first few days of Lyra being around he had been, but after about a week and a half, he no longer was. He just assumed they’d replaced the coffee with a stronger kind after that point.

“Ha!” Lyra exclaimed, pointing at Grayson’s face with a smile on her own. “I was right. You no longer need 2 coffees a day.” Grayson smiled, turning to her and freezing suddenly. She was no longer just smiling. Now she was grinning. It lit up her face, her eyes seeming softer with a mischievous glint in them as well. If Grayson weren’t currently driving a car, he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away at all. But he was, so Graysons eyes had to dart back to the road, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I guess you were right.” he said, his eyes unintentionally soft. Lyra’s eyes stayed on him for a pause, before she turned away.

“I always am.” she replied simply. Grayson huffed out a laugh, caught off guard. He checked his phone, which had been telling him directions throughout his and Lyra’s conversation, and saw how much time was left before they’d get there.

“We should be getting there in 5 minutes. You don’t live too far from the building.” Grayson said. Lyra nodded.

“I moved out of my parents house when I got this job. I guess I decided it’d be easier if I found a spot pretty close to the office.” Lyra said. At the mention of parents, Grayson couldn’t stop his mind from straying to her father. To her past.

“Lyra…” he said, trailing off as his voice suddenly got more serious. Lyra’s head turned towards him, and he could tell that even in her drunk state she knew that he was no longer being conversational. “We never really got the chance to talk about your father.”

At the mention of father, Lyra ducked her head, her hands beginning to fidget. “We don’t need to.” she said, her voice carrying an edge of determination.

“Lyra—“

“Please.” she said, her voice teetering on a desperate edge. Grayson looked at her, his eyes wide, but she just carried on. “My father has never left my mind ever since Tobias Hawthorne passed away. Ever since the inheritance. But I got a therapist, and I’ve tried to get over it, and—“ she laughed then, but he could see how her eyes began to shine with tears. “And I wouldn’t even admit this if I weren’t drunk right now! But I spent months looking for your number, trying to get even an ounce of sympathy or help from you, and that didn’t happen. And I can honestly only thank you for telling me to stop calling, because thats when I told my mom about remembering my father’s death, and thats when I got help. But maybe I just… maybe I just wanted closure more than anything. But that never really came, and I have to be okay with that.”

The silence that followed was heartbreaking. Grayson’s breaths began to become more heavy as he thought through her confession, feeling desperately pathetic and sorry for how he treated her, and how he pretended like it never happened. He should have talked to her about it sooner. Why was he such an idiot?

“I’m sorry.” Lyra whispered, her eyes wide as if she was surprised by her outburst herself. Grayson looked at her. Then he suddenly swerved, parking on the side of the road.

As soon as he did, Grayson turned to her, staring at her surprised eyes with serious ones of his own.

“Don’t apologize, Lyra. I never should have told you to stop calling. Especially because…” Grayson trailed off, the words forming a lodge in his throat. “Especially because I didn’t mean it. I wanted you to call again because I wanted you to get your closure and… and maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Lyra went deathly still at that. Her eyes flickered to her lap, wide but still as if she were thinking through his words the best she could.

“Oh.” was all Lyra said. Grayson ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh.” he repeated, letting his head fall back to hit his headrest. Lyra continued being still, before she turned to him, a smile on her face.

“We’re good at confessing things.” Lyra said, smiling. Grayson looked at her. Really looked at her. You’re good, he wanted to say. I simply admit the safest possible thing I can.

Because if he were good at confessing… if he were good at confessing…

A phone call interrupted Grayson’s thoughts. He looked down at the caller, and saw Nash’s name.

Lyra’s hand immediately went to answer the call, and Grayson snatched the phone away before she could grace both Nash and him any further with her unpredictability.

“Hello?” Grayson said.

“You still up?” Nash asked. Grayson raised a brow.

“Clearly. What is it?” Grayson asked.

“Jamie ain’t home. Xander is off to go visit Maxine in who-knows-where. I’m doing my daily rounds to make sure y’all ain’t dead.” Nash drawled. Grayson snorted.

“No, I’m not dead, but thank you for verifying.” Grayson replied.

“Where are you then?”

Grayson glanced to where Lyra was sitting, her feet up as her eyes darted away, pretending she hadn’t been staring and trying to listen to the phone call.

“Lyra and I met with Shane O’Reilly to negotiate over drinks. Lyra got a little…” Grayson chose his words carefully, so as to not make the Lyra who was currently narrowing her eyes at Grayson even more aggravated. “tipsy.”

“She’s absolutely hammered and you had to take her home?”

“Yup.”

“Hm.”

Grayson frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“That means ‘hm’. What else would hm mean?”

“No, that wasn’t just a hm. That seemed like you’re thinking of saying something but decided against saying it.”

“I did.” the cowboy replied simply. Grayson frowned.

“Well, out with it then.”

Nash was silent for a beat, then two, before speaking.

“You’re getting awfully attached to that assistant of yours.” Grayson’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Lyra who was looking curiously at him, trying to hear what was going on in the call. Grayson brought the phone away from his ear.

“Excuse me a moment, Lyra.” he said. Then Grayson got out of the car, closing the door and pressing the phone to his ear again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grayson shot back. Nash snorted.

“I simply suggested that you were relying on your assistant while you were, apparently, right next to her, and you decided to completely change your location just so she wouldn’t overhear you, and you ask me “what’s that supposed to mean”?” Nash laughed. Then he paused. “Where are you anyway?”

“Side of the road. Lyra’s in the car with me.” Grayson said. He could practically hear Nash’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Why are you two on the side of the road?”

Grayson’s cheeks heated up once he realized what Nash was trying to hint to.

“You have a way with jumping to conclusions, Nash. And for the record, she had to throw up.” That was a lie, but Grayson couldn’t tell Nash the real reason he had parked on the side of the road. Because if he told Nash Hawthorne that he pulled off the road to have a heart to heart with his assistant, he’d never hear the end of it. “Besides, nothing can happen. She’s my assistant, and most importantly, she’s drunk.”

“I know that,” Nash said, his voice suddenly serious. “I know you know better than that. But I also know that you talk about her at home. And you let her boss you around. And you take her out to cafes in your spare time. That doesn’t seem like normal boss and assistant behaviour.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “I took her to a cafe once to celebrate a successful day in the office. Once. And how did you find out about that anyway?” he accused. Nash snorted.

“You’re Grayson Hawthorne. Somebody saw you sitting across from a girl at a cafe and posted it online. Alisa squashed it, but we all still saw it.” Nash said. Grayson sighed.

“That sounds about right.”

“Grayson… just be careful. You seem to be having a serious attachment to this girl. But you have to understand that things get complicated when it’s a boss and someone who works for them. It gets harder career wise, not just for you, but also for her.” Nash’s voice hardens. “What do you think people would say when they see a girl get hired for a job and then shortly after start dating the person who hired her?”

Grayson’s face tightened. He’d known that he could never even entertain a possibility of Lyra and him being together, but he’d never really considered… that.

“I know. I know it can’t happen, and believe me, it won’t. Lyra and I are just people who work together. We’re friends at most. That’s all.” Grayson assured him. But then he remembered her lips on hers, hands that wove in his hair, a racing heart beat that he heard pressed against his own.

What were Lyra and him now? They sure as hell weren’t dating. But they also weren’t simply boss and assistant. Because a boss shouldn’t know what his assistants lips taste like, and an assistant shouldn’t know what her boss’ arms feel like wrapped around her.

It was all wrong, thinking about it now. But didn’t it feel so right in the moment?

Maybe it was just a thing. Maybe it was just casual. But nothing about this night felt casual to him.

“Mhm. I’ll take your word for it.” Nash said. Then he yawned. “Alright, drop her off then get home safe little brother. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Grayson sighed, rubbing a hand over the side of his face as his eyes moved to the girl sitting in the passenger seat of his car, who captivated him in ways he could never explain. “Yeah. See you in a bit.”

Then Grayson hung up, and got back in the car.

“What did Nash say?” Lyra immediately ask. Grayson glanced, his face amused as he looked at her. Lyra had detective tendencies when she was drunk.

“Aren’t you curious?” he said, pulling back onto the road. Lyra sighed, letting her feet fall back to the floor.

“That’s Grayson code for “I’m not telling you”. Lyra said with a frown. Grayson huffed out a laugh.

“You’re correct.” he agreed.

Finally, Grayson pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex, helping Lyra out of the car.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment.” Grayson immediately offered. Lyra gave him a look.

“I’m basically already home. It’s fine.” Lyra refused, shaking her head. Grayson gave her a look in return.

“Lyra, you are drunk, and it is nearing 1 AM. There is absolutely no way that I am letting you walk alone to your apartment.”

“It’s on the first floor.”

“Still.”

“No.”

“Lyra, I have carried you twice tonight, and I will not hesitate to do it a third time.”

“Fine.” Lyra finally relented, realizing that Grayson was not, in fact, bluffing. They got inside, Grayson followed Lyra’s footsteps to her place.

Floor 1, apartment 8 was where Lyra resided. She fumbled with the keys yet again, except this time when Lyra opened the door, she turned around to face Grayson.

“Thank you.” she blurted out. Grayson raised a brow, surprised, but Lyra just continued. “I’m not good at asking for help. Or accepting help. Or doing anything that involves getting help from literally anybody. But despite that, you still helped me out a lot tonight, so… thank you.”

She looked suddenly shy then, looking away with reddened cheeks. Grayson just stood there himself, before speaking.

“I didn’t expect that from you. Although you have proven to be quite… surprising.” Grayson said, the barest smile on his lips. Lyra glanced back at him.

“That I am.” Lyra replied, looking quite pleased with herself. Grayson’s lips lifted even more. Then Lyra took a step closer, her proximity making Grayson’s heart begin to race.

“What I asked you earlier,” Lyra said, her voice quieter now, “about you kissing me again if I’d ask…”

Grayson’s heart hammered in his chest. Lyra was looking up at him now, her eyes golden under the light, as Grayson tried to sort through his thoughts. Breathe. Relax. Try his best to compute under the gaze of beauty reincarnate. Then he spoke.

“Lyra,” he reasoned, his voice hoarser than he thought it’d be. “You’re drunk. I’m not doing anything you might regret in the morning.”

Lyra gave him the slightest pout, stepping forward even more. “That’s what you said at the office.”

If she even stepped forward an inch, their chests would be brushing. Lyra’s head was tilted up at him, her eyes sparkling yet curious, as she gazed at Grayson. Grayson had to squeeze his eyes shut to remember how to speak. He couldn’t otherwise.

Not when she was looking at him like that.

Finally, he reopened his eyes, giving himself the privilege of brushing a strand behind her ear. “Lyra, no. And that’s final. Now go rest up, and I’ll call you in the morning to see how you are.” Grayson finally said. Lyra relented, puffing out air through her lips, before glancing up at Grayson mischievously when he spoke his last couple words.

“A call? You won’t come and visit?” Lyra asked. Grayson was taken aback. Not just from the way she was fluttering her eyelashes at him, but also from her sheer boldness.

“Don’t push your luck.” Grayson said, trying to seem amused whereas his voice came out low. Lyra was pushing him too far for him to be amused.

She sighed, holding her peacoat jacket in one hand and her laptop bag in the other. Then all annoyance faded from her face as she looked at him with that same look from earlier. The one that captivated him.

“Goodnight, Grayson.” Lyra whispered. Grayson stared for a moment, breathing in and out through his nose, before speaking himself.

“Goodnight, Lyra.” he said. Lyra smiled, the look in her eyes gentle for a fleeting moment, before she turned around and shut the door behind her, giving Grayson one last glance back before she did. Grayson stood there, trying to compose himself, before turning and making his way out the building.

What were Lyra and him now? Grayson was unsure. But he knew, whatever it was that they were, it was casual. It had to be.

Because if it wasn’t, then Grayson was seriously screwed.

————————————————————————

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

bro i forgot how much i love your fics

AHHH STOP IT BRUSKI I LOVE U 💞💞💞

i havent had a lot of motivation to write lately, but once i finish the 2 fics im currently working on (part 3 to my lyrason boss x assistant au (which is almost done) and a lyrason baby fever fic (halfway through)) ive decided im going to try something new!!

i always write long fics, but i think i want to try limiting myself as much as possible (lmao i know that sounds bad but just hold on) and try writing smaller pieces of work to write them quicker!!

i lowkey wanna lock in and finish the part 3 to the lyrason boss x assistant au tonight bc im ALMOST DONE, and then try getting the baby fever one done by thursday/friday.

also i wanna try writing on my laptop!! i usually get more writing done when working on my laptop for school work, so i bet it’d work just the same with fics :))

anywayssss thats the plan. ALSO I WANNA GO THRU MY INBOX AND TRY AND GET THE EASIERISH FIC REQUESTS DONE!! then the ones that may require more writing/i have a more thought out plan for i can work on later

ANYWAYSSSS THATS ALL!! u just reminded me to lock in so thats what im about to do 😈😈

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Please could you write more lyrason headcannons

ofcccc!!!

lyra x grayson headcanons

whenever grayson visits lyra’s family, her little brother practically clings to his leg the entire time. he loves grayson A LOT because grayson can never say no to him 💖💖

grayson is the type to never wear socks when he sleeps and lyra is the type to ALWAYS wear socks when she sleeps (and grayson is extremely distraught and confused as to how she can sleep with socks on as he hates it). but also she naturally runs cold so while grayson is just in a pair of sweatpants shes wearing thick long sleeved pajamas and huge winter socks

lyra can cook, but literally only recipes from her childhood. otherwise she always burns the food. and grayson can cook anything but thats just because he follows out recipes perfectly whereas lyra skips steps for “time efficiency”

grayson can sleep through an earthquake but lyra wakes up if the floorboards even creak

lyra’s periods are actually downright horrendous. she gets heavy cramps, and has to wear those diaper sized pads because of how heavy her flow is. but grayson always makes sure to stock up on dark chocolate and be by her side whenever she gets her period because he understands how much pain shes in, emotionally and physically 🫶

whenever lyra has the dream of her father, she usually just lays in bed and cries as quietly as she can so as not to disturb grayson. but grayson, even with his deep sleeping tendencies, can somehow always tell when shes crying

they’re libby and nashs kids’ favourites because they always let them pick how they want the day to go. their hangouts always end with one of the kids clutching grayson/lyra’s leg and begging their parents to let them stay longer.

⬇️ this one is inspired by the office but i love jim and pam so shhhh

whenever anything good happens in lyras life, like a big accomplishment, grayson always says “kane” in a proud tone that never fails to make lyra giggle. whenever she gets good news, she runs home every single time just so that she can hear him call her kane in that way of his. 🤭

⬆️ similar to this, grayson likes when she calls him “hawthorne”, even though a lot of the time its to mock him. he just likes how it sounds in her mouth, but he also knows that he likes how it sounds much better as her last name 💕💕

jameson, xander, nash, avery, max, thea, and even rebecca all agreed (in the hawthorne/hawthorne adjacent gc ofc) that lyra was cooler than grayson

lyra is unintentionally very secretive, so sometimes she just drops things about her life that grayson did not know and then is surprised that he doesn’t know because she “swears she told him”. (e.g. she’s joined a jujitsu program when she was younger because she was bored and randomly dropped it in a conversation at breakfast. she, in fact, did not tell grayson and he was extremely confused.)

lyra stares at him a LOT if she wakes up before him. she knows it creepy and that she should stop, but she stays as still as possible so as not to wake him up in the morning and just… stares. she knows he gorgeous and amazing in every way possible so sometimes shes just in awe of that fact and needs at least 5 minutes of “staring-at-her-boyfriend” time

grayson calls her sweetheart most the time, but also uses different pet names from time to time, like baby or love

lyra can be so petty at times that when grayson wants to ask if she needs help, he has to physically plan ahead. upcoming event in lyra’s life that is going to be stressful to endure and also should not at all be a one person job? grayson is lavishing her up and spoiling her up until he asks just so that he can get a yes and lyra doesn’t overwork herself 😭😭

before lyra and grayson were dating, grayson had met her little brother, and (in front of EVERYONE, graysons brothers, avery, the contestants) her little brother had whipped out a drawing he made of “lyra and her boyfriend” (he had seen them together a bunch and just assumed), and in the drawing lyra’s little brother was in the middle while lyra and grayson stood on different sides of him, and they were all holding hands.

safe to say that his brothers ALL gave them interesting looks and bursted out laughing while lyra and grayson immediately started reassuring that little 4 year old boy that they were not, in fact, dating.

ANDDDD THATS ALL!!

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

write klea and haniya fic where haniya go to the mall and she has no 🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑 but then kyle gives her some and hanky is really pahhy

OMG OFC 🥺🥺🥺

“Omfg haniya u broke hoe where is ur money?” Klea screams, grabbing haniya and shaking her like a ragdoll. Haniya is inconsolable, shaking and crying.

“Now i cant buy food…” haniya whispers, flinching like the words physically hurt her. Klea understood her pain now. Not buying fast food at the mall was like depriving yourself of oxygen.

“Kitten whiskers,” klea whispers, pulling Haniya in for a hug, “i will give you money.”

Haniya’s eyes widens, as she looks up at klea with stars in her eyes.

“R-r-r-r-r-r-really?” She stutters. Klea smirks.

“Of course, stink.” Klea says, pulling a 20 dollar bill from out of her left ass cheek. Haniya jumps for joy, so happy that she can finally buy her big mac.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH!” She says, elated. Klea tries to ignore the crowd of people around the two, all whispering about how amazing klea was and how she was a “modern day mother theresa”. Heh. Nothing she hadn’t heard before.

“You’re welcome, sweet cheeks. Now lets go.” Klea says, taking haniyas hand in hers as they walked in the direction of the nearest mcdonalds.

okay lmao i didnt see this request but i am SOOO glad that i did now bc i love this

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

okay im lowkey obsessed with writing sickfics SOOO heres graysonsss!!

Stubborn and Sick (grayson edition) - grayson x lyra

(yeah so ignore the fact that i took the title of my lyra sick fic and just stuck “grayson edition” at the end….)

——————————————————

Lyra felt her eyelids flutter open, stretching as her eyes got used to the sun peaking through the open blinds. Mornings like these were Lyra’s favourite. She’d let her body acclimate to being up, and would bask in sunlight, with her head on Grayson’s chest—

Her thoughts slowed to a halt once her arm, that stretched atop of Grayson’s side of the bed, didn’t feel a Grayson anywhere.

Frowning, Lyra sat up, and checked the time. 10:09 AM. Yawning, she realized, with a huff of disappointment, that Grayson was probably in his office just down the hall. Then she frowned. Lyra was forgetting something. She always had almost like an itchy feeling in her brain when she knew something was a little off. Racking her mind, Lyra finally realized what it was. She was meant to set an alarm for 7:30, but had clearly forgotten. But why, Lyra asked herself, it’s not like I have school, or work—

Lyra realized then why she wanted to set an alarm.

The night before, Grayson looked physically sick. He had been working non stop to land a deal with some asshole company that refused to relent, and was working himself to the bone, which only made matters worse. His skin was pale, he had a cough, he was burning up feverishly, and, when he thought Lyra couldn’t see him, he stumbled to the kitchen to get a cup of water because he was clearly too dizzy to walk normally. So, Lyra was going to wake up early to check his state, and therefore determine if he was fit to work or not. So much for that, Lyra thought.

She felt a bit guilty then. Her boyfriend was probably sick, working non-stop, and she couldn’t even remember to place an alarm just to check on him. Huffing, she peeled off her blanket. Lyra was wearing just a tiny pair of shorts and a t-shirt, but even in early spring it wasn’t warm enough to just wear a t-shirt, especially with Lyra’s cold blooded tendencies, so she picked out one of Grayson’s sweaters from their closet and stomped to his office.

Once she got to the door, she didn’t bother knocking before coming in.

“Good morning, Lyra.” Grayson said, sounding seemingly normal. However, seemingly normal and normal were two different things, and Lyra was determined to find out which one was the way Grayson really felt. She walked closer to him, examining him, and immediately knew something was wrong; his suit jacket was off, his hair was messier than normal, his tie was loose, his face was pale, his chest was rising and falling with quick movements, and he seemed twitchy and distracted. So, definitely sick then.

They’d had a conversation yesterday. Lyra told him that if he was feeling sick the next day, he wouldn’t be working. And what did the asshole do anyway?

Grayson could immediately tell she was pissed by her folded arms and the way she loomed over him. “Sweetheart—” he started.

“Don’t sweetheart me.” Lyra said, cutting him off as she jutted an accusatory finger to his face. He slumped a bit more in his chair. She walked closer to him, putting her hands on the arms of his chair and her face close to his.

“You said yesterday that you wouldn’t work the next day if you weren’t feeling well.” She accused. Grayson sighed, standing up and regaining height on her. He held his hands up.

“Lyra, I am just undergoing some minor symptoms. Believe me, I am fit to work.” he told her, his chin tilted downwards to meet her gaze. Lyra snorted.

“Some minor symptoms? Theres a bottle of Tylenol knocked over on the table, and even you being the neat freak that you are didn’t put the pills spilling out back in. That’s concern enough.” Lyra argued, staring at Grayson with a thunder-stricken expression. He opened his mouth, clearly about to rebuke her statement, but Lyra continued before he could.

“Your dress shirt is rumpled and unbuttoned, your face is pale and teetering on a yellow edge, your hair is messier than you ever allow it to be, even when you’re working from home, your tie is loose, your hands are literally twitching as we speak, and, when you stood up to meet my gaze, you looked clearly disoriented and off. Admit it. You’re sick.” Lyra finished, crossing her arms and giving him a stubborn and fierce look that screamed “I’m not dropping this until you agree that you’re sick”. Grayson looked slightly appalled. And Lyra couldn’t ignore the proud feeling in her chest when he looked at her like that, with those appraising eyes of his full of awe.

“You seem to have noticed a lot.” he admitted. Then, his eyes grew more stubborn. “You seem to have noticed a lot of minor symptoms.” Lyra scowled at him, but he only sighed.

“Lyra. I know you’re worried, but believe me, I’m fine. And it’s not like I can take a break even if I were sick, anyway. I have to complete this work by tonight to land that deal with those investors, and with the load I have, unless I’m at it all day, I’ll never be finished.” Grayson explained, giving her that soft look that she was too familiar with. Lyra wouldn’t let herself be buttered up. She was about to argue back, when he took her chin in his hand and gently tapped his thumb to her lips.

“Please, Lyra.” he finished, his voice soft and eyes loving. Lyra almost relented. Almost.

But even though Grayson was stubborn, Lyra was stubborner.

“Fine,” Lyra sighed. Grayson smiled at her.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. But it was only when Grayson was turned away, grabbing an extension cord from the drawer behind him, that Lyra grabbed his laptop and took off. Maybe it was a ridiculously petty move, getting him to chase her around while he was sick. But Lyra didn’t care. She was taking care of her damn boyfriend even if it killed her. Lyra heard him shout her name, before chasing after her. She ran all around the house, finally stopping in their bedroom. Lyra squared her shoulders once she saw Grayson step into the room. His face looked jumbled with different emotions—confusion, shock, and annoyance—when Lyra looked at him, but that all faded away quickly when Lyra placed his laptop on her vanity, stepped forward, and captured his lips with hers. He froze with shock for a moment, before he was pulling her in, deepening the kiss. Lyra did the same, pushing him backwards onto the bed. The kiss was everything and more.

Lyra knew that Grayson felt that way as well. Which meant she knew that he had fallen for her plan.

Lyra felt Grayson’s teeth skim her bottom lip, and she latched onto his belt. Grayson separated from her lips, looking at her like he could see straight through her with those perceptive eyes of his. But there was something smokier to them, something akin to lust hiding behind those wide pupils.

“Lyra.” he breathed, his voice hoarse. Lyra tried to feel unaffected by that, and smiled at him.

“Good. You’re in bed.” she replied simply. Then she let go of his belt, rolled over him, jumped out of their bed, and turned around to look at a messy-haired blown pupils Grayson Hawthorne. He looked flustered and confused all at once. And then realization dawned on him. He tried to sit up, but Lyra pushed him down back into the laying position he was in previously.

“No go, honey. You’re sick, so you’re staying in bed. I’m going to get everything you need, and if you complain, I’m putting a cloth in your mouth and tying you to the bed.” Lyra told him flippantly. Grayson raised a suggestive brow at her with that last sentence, but she just rolled her eyes, muttering “I didn’t mean it like that” as her cheeks tinged pink. She turned around and started to walk to the door.

“Don’t get out of that bed, Grayson. I mean it.” she ordered, jutting a finger behind her back at him. Walking into the kitchen, Lyra made a tray with everything he’d need: A mug filled with hot lemon and honey tea, cough syrup, a thermometer, medicine, a box of Kleenex’s, and a bowl of soup. She also filled up a cup of water so he could stay hydrated.

Walking back into the room with the tray in hand, Lyra was pleased when she saw him still in bed. His eyes seemed to follow her tray, and he looked almost guilty.

“You didn’t have to do this, Lyra.” he complained, looking at every thing she had brought with a loving but weary look on his face. Lyra placed the tray on the night stand, before helping him sit up in bed and moving it onto his lap.

“Yes I did. You’re sick.” she told him. “There’s a tea you need to drink and some soup since I’m guessing you skipped breakfast, but first I have to check your temperature.” Lyra took the thermometer from the tray, before turning to Grayson and signalling for him to open his mouth. He did, and Lyra placed the thermometer in his mouth with gentle movements. In a minute, she took it out and checked his temperature. 106 Fahrenheit. Not good.

“You’ve got a fever. Take the medicine I put on your tray. It should help.” Lyra instructed, sitting up beside him on the bed. Grayson stared at her, to which she stared back, unmoving. Then he smiled, and took a pill with his water.

“You’re stubborn.” he finally said. Lyra gave him a look.

“And you don’t like stubborn?” Lyra asked him. He returned the look.

“I didn’t say that.” he replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. Lyra smiled, glowing from his touch. His lips kept brushing against her face, pressing kisses onto her forehead, cheek, jaw, and neck.

“You’re perfect in every way.” he muttered, continuing to press kisses onto her neck. “And I love how stubborn you are because I love every part of you.” Lyra giggled. Then, he raised his head, taking her chin in his hand.

“Hey,” he said in a soft voice. “would you mind getting me a new cup of tea, sweetheart? Mine has gone cold.” Lyra knew something was off about this. Grayson never asked her for anything, but when Lyra asked for the slightest favour, it was done before she could finish her sentence. Damn Hawthorne. But still, she ignored her doubts and thought back to a couple moments ago, how his lips felt pressed against her neck. She felt giddy then.

“Of course.” she said, taking his mug from off his tray and bringing it into the kitchen. She reboiled the water, dumped the drink, replaced the tea bag, and waited a couple minutes for the water in the kettle to finish boiling before she poured it into the mug. Swishing the liquid around with a spoon and adding no sugar—just how Grayson likes it—she started to walk towards the room when she heard a ping sound coming from it, almost like a… notification. The noise was so quiet that Lyra thought she was just hearing things, but something felt different. Frowning, Lyra tiptoed to the room, using her dancers grace to not allow her feet to make even the slightest sound as she walked towards the door. Peeking through, Lyra’s eyes squinted before widening.

Grayson had gotten his laptop out while she was in the kitchen. And, was probably waiting to hear her footsteps. Too bad for the big ass, because hers were always silent.

“Hey!” Lyra exclaimed indignantly, bursting through the door and locking eyes with a surprised-but-at-the-same-time-not-surprised Grayson Hawthorne. She stomped up towards him.

“I told you not to go on your laptop, asshole.” Lyra said, stopping at his bedside with her hands on her hips. Grayson held her gaze, his eyes frustrated.

“I just needed to review a couple more documents,” he said. “Just a few more and then I could continue the rest later.” Lyra rolled her eyes.

“That’s it. I’m not gonna leave this laptop in your sight for even a minute longer.” Lyra argued, grabbing his laptop and walking out of the bedroom to go place it in the living room somewhere. Lyra heard the bed creaking behind her, before footsteps began to follow her own. A hand shot out to grab Lyra’s wrist.

Lyra spun around, putting the laptop down on the coffee table and glaring at Grayson. Grayson sighed, holding his hands up in front of him.

“Look, baby—“ Grayson began to speak, before Lyra cut him off.

“I’m going to make sure you stay in bed and get the rest you desperately need, because you are literally dead on your feet. Now c’mon.” Lyra interrupted, taking a hold of Grayson’s arm and pulling him back into their bedroom.

5 hours had passed, and Grayson had drunk his tea, ate the soup Lyra put out for him, took more medication, and had slept like the dead. She was currently going over some notes for her classes, sitting on the floor beside his bed with her back against it. She couldn’t help a pleased smile from touching her lips; this was proof that Lyra could outwit Grayson Hawthorne.

Or, that she was just more stubborn than him, but Lyra decided to do herself the favour of lying for her own sake.

Suddenly, a rustling sound started above her. Lyra tilted her head up and saw Grayson stirring. He blinked groggily, before noticing her sat below him and smiling.

“What are you doing down there, sweetheart?” Grayson asked, his voice low and sweet. Lyra tried to remember how to breathe, and when she couldn’t, she turned her attention back to her notes.

“Keeping an eye on you. I was worried that if I wasn’t nearby, you might run off to the office somehow.” Lyra deadpanned. Grayson could tell that she was a little frustrated, which, she deserved to be after all that work just getting him to stay in the bed, and so he treaded lightly.

“And how would I do that?” he asked gently. Lyra shrugged.

“I assumed with your super-secret-Grayson-Hawthorne-abilities.” Lyra retorted. There was a beat of silence. Then another.

And then Lyra was surprised to hear the deep and rich rumble of a laugh that only Grayson had.

Lyra tried to remember that all the butterflies she was getting from that perfect sound were ridiculous, considering he was laughing at her.

“What?” she asked, turning he head around to glare at him even as he continued to chuckle. Finally, he smothered it and looked at her with a smile on his face.

“‘super-secret-Grayson-Hawthorne-abilities’?” he mocked, smiling. Lyra rolled her eyes.

“You know what I mean.” Lyra said, annoyance in her tone and embarrassment on her face. Grayson reached down, and took her hand in his.

“I’d understand much better if you came and laid up here with me.” he offered, tracing her finger with his thumb. Lyra snorted.

“Why? So you can infect me too?” she retorted.

“So I can apologize.” Grayson corrected. There was a beat of silence as surprise flashed across Lyra’s face. She let go of Grayson’s hand and placed her notes on the floor, before standing up. As soon as Lyra met his eyes, she watched his pupils expand.

“What for?” Lyra asked, feeling slightly guilty for being mad at him in the first place. He sat up, pulling her closer by the waist.

“For not listening to you. You were just trying to help out. I’m very sorry for that, sweetheart.” Grayson told her, his voice soft. “Now why don’t you come lay in bed?”

His voice was so inviting, so sweet, that Lyra couldn’t stop her legs from walking towards the edge of the bed. She ignored Graysons eyes as they followed her, and climbed onto the space on the bed beside him. Immediately, his hands were on her as he pulled her on top of him.

“Grayson!” Lyra exclaimed, swatting at his chest as Grayson placed her down on it. His only response was to press a kiss onto her lips, his hands moving up and down her body.

“Did you take my shirt off while I slept?” Grayson asked softly as he brushed his lips against her jaw. Lyra suppressed a shiver.

“Um—yes, you were burning up.” she stuttered, briefly caught off guard. He made a sound in his throat before continuing to kiss her. Lyra separated, even though she didn’t want to, so she could try and get some words out.

“Grayson.” she said seriously. Grayson’s eyes bored into hers. “Are you feeling better?”

Grayson smoothed a hand over her hair, the touch gentle and soothing. “Yes, I am. And I have you to thank for that.” He pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry for being so stubborn.” he apologized, mumbling the words into her hair. Lyra giggled.

“So you admit you were stubborn.” Lyra said, a smile touching her lips. Grayson gave her one of his own smiles, beautiful and breath-taking and hers.

“I do.” he said. Lyra’s smiled widened.

“And now it’s time for you to admit that I, Lyra Catalina Kane, am fully capable of outsmarting, outwitting, and outmaneuvering Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.” she said. Grayson’s kissed her nose.

“Really, sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

“You, Lyra Catalina Kane, are fully capable of outsmarting, outwitting, and outmaneuvering me.” he repeated, the words giving her a shine of pride. Lyra wrapped her arms around him, sighing.

“Isn’t that the truth.” she said, her voice teasingly wistful. Grayson snickered, pulling her closer himself.

As well as sunny mornings, Lyra loved sunny afternoons, where light from the golden hour shone through their windows.

And this time, unlike this morning, Lyra finally got to bask in the sunlight with her head on Grayson Hawthorne’s chest.

————————————————————————

hehe see what i did there. i tied a sentence from the first paragraph into the last sentence. heheh. okay thanks for reading 💕

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

how things change - lyra x grayson au fic

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pairings: lyra kane x grayson hawthorne

tags: assistant x boss au

part 1

LYRA:

When Lyra showed up to work that morning, she found Grayson outside. He was lifting 4 boxes. Lyra walked up to him, curiosity clear in her expression as she watched him struggle with the boxes.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Grayson looked at her, his eyes lingering, before he spoke.

“Avery requested that I bring these boxes inside. They’re for a meeting I have to attend later today.” he spoke, his voice crisp and assured. Lyra gave him a look.

“Did she request that you bring in the boxes, or that I bring in the boxes?” Lyra asked. Grayson gave her a hard stare, and Lyra knew she had hit the jackpot.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to.” he said, raking his gaze over her body. There was nothing inherently sexual about the action, as it was clearly to doubt her strength, but it still hinted at it, and when Grayson realized that, his eyes snapped back to hers, before moving to the sky. Lyra held back a snort.

“I did ballet my entire life. I’m stronger than you think.” Lyra retorted, doing him the privilege of ignoring that past awkward action. Grayson’s eyes met her gaze, something curious and mysterious in them that pulled at her chest.

“You’re a ballerina?” he asked. Lyra felt her stomach twist.

“Was.” she corrected flatly, trying to force a mental wall around her past life. One so tall and sturdy that she couldn’t see past it. Then she met his eyes again.

“Now,” she said, switching the topic, “need some help?”

Grayson gave her a look. “I can carry them myself, thank you.” Suddenly, his arm wobbled and the big box on top of the even bigger box nearly fell off. Lyra watched him with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Need some help?” she repeated.

“No.” he stated. Then the wobbliness gave way, and the box on top went tumbling to the floor. There was a pause, as Lyra watched the contents spill out of the box slightly. Then she looked up at Grayson.

“Need some help?”

Lyra and Grayson walked out of the elevator, Lyra holding a box in her arms and Grayson holding 3 in his. She placed the box on her desk, and Grayson placed the other 3 beside it.

“What are in these?” Lyra asked, patting one of the boxes.

“Some materials I’ll need for my next meeting.” Grayson stated curtly. Lyra stared at him. That was vague, she thought. Suddenly he looked up at her, and Lyra looked away, annoyed with herself for staring and then being caught.

“I know. You told me. What kind of materials?” she inquired. Grayson gave her a look.

“Don’t worry about it. You won’t be attending, anyway.” he stated briskly. Lyra barely held back a retort when the secretary for the main hall showed up.

“Ms. Grambs tried calling both you and your assistant, but nobody picked up. She wanted me to tell you that the meeting time has been switched, and that she wants you and Ms. Kane to be there at 7:30, not 5:30.” the lady spoke, her voice polite. Grayson nodded, and the secretary began to walk away, but Lyra’s brain just stuck on one part of the sentence. You and Ms. Kane.

As soon as she realized what Grayson was doing, she turned to him with an offended glare on her face.

“You and Ms. Kane?” she repeated. The damn asshole was trying to sideline her. He didn’t think she was capable of doing her own job! Lyra stepped forward, a furious look on her face.

“Ms. Kane,” Grayson spoke, his hands up, but Lyra interrupted him.

“Lyra,” she corrected. “The assistant that you hired, you know, to actually do work. So far the only time I’ve actually been doing anything is when I beg you to let me help you.” Lyra came closer, only a few inches away from Grayson’s face. His head dipped down to meet her gaze, his eyes trying to exhibit patience, when there was clearly something else in them.

“You hired me, so don’t act like I showed up out of nowhere and started demanding that I do your job. I’m going to that meeting with you, just like how I’m going to start actually doing work instead of finishing up nearly done documents, and just like how you’re going to start treating me like you would any assistant.” Lyra said, her voice coated in anger. Grayson’s eyes flashed.

“I’m your boss.” he said, the words clearly meant to be commanding and put Lyra in her place. But all it did was spur her on.

“Exactly,” Lyra said, meeting his gaze head on, “so start acting like it.”

Grayson stared at her, before the look in his eyes subsided, leaving something much more amused.

“You’re surprising.” he stated dryly, humour clear in his voice. Lyra raised a brow at him.

“I’m so sorry that I’m not like every other person who happens to be in your vicinity.” Lyra said, her voice thick with sarcasm. She feigned a damsel-like sigh. “In the sense that, when it comes to Grayson Hawthorne, everyone seems to swoon at his feet.”

“And yet there you stand.” Grayson replied, his voice softer than it had been previously, and a ghost of a smile on his lips. Lyra’s heart raced, before the look on his face subsided and he suddenly walked towards his office.

A confused look came upon Lyra’s face as her brain questioned Grayson’s sudden exit.

That was, until he returned holding a ridiculously large stack of papers.

Grayson slammed the papers onto her desk.

“This is half my work load for today.” Grayson said, a proud, arrogant, and annoyingly handsome look on his face as he watched her eyes slightly widen, before she regained neutrality. Holding his gaze, Lyra spoke.

“It’ll be done before lunch.”

Lyra’s promises remained unbroken, the stack of papers being done before she went out for her lunch break. And just for stubborn purposes, Lyra continued to work impossibly hard. Any remaining clients that were known for bugging Grayson were gone, documents that used to go to Grayson to check over were looked at by Lyra instead, and even mundane tasks in his office and in the building were being fixed. The broken thermostat on the third floor was finally set to be fixed tomorrow, and the curtain that Grayson was always too busy to change was changed. Lyra looked up from her laptop to see a notification on her phone. Grayson had asked that she install an app that was basically like a text message, but was used to notify Lyra of when he wanted to see her in his office. Standing up, Lyra walked over to his office and opened the door.

“Yes?” she asked curtly. Grayson blinked at her.

“I’m done my work.” he said. Lyra’s brows furrowed.

“O….kay?” Lyra said, dragging out the word with confusion. Then Grayson did something she had never seen before.

He smiled.

It was fleeting, and small, but it still managed to affect Lyra in ways that she refused to elaborate on.

“It is 4:30, and I am done my work. I typically stay at the office till 6:00.” he said, shaking his head. “Even when I had my old assistant, I never finished my work quite this early.” Lyra realized then what was happening; this was Grayson Hawthorne’s version of a compliment.

“I told you.” Lyra said, trying to convince herself she wasn’t bragging—when she definitely was. Grayson held her gaze, the look in his eyes taking ahold of Lyra, before he packed up his things.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. Lyra was taken aback.

“Um—I don’t know, maybe a little.” Lyra stuttered, caught off guard with the question. Grayson had never really engaged in non-work related conversation with her ever since the talk they had when he first heard her voice.

“We still have 3 hours till the meeting. I’m planning to go to a cafe, if you’d like to come along.” Grayson said, his voice simple. Lyra was still surprised, as she hadn’t expected him to invite her to come along. But coffee seemed nice right now.

“Uh, sure, I’ll come along.” Lyra said.

“Good.” Grayson said. And just like that, it was final. She was getting coffee with Grayson Hawthorne.

GRAYSON:

Grayson hadn’t entirely thought out the cafe proposal, and was beginning to curse himself for it as Lyra got into his car, but he just couldn’t help himself. He rarely ever acted on impulse, but being in Lyra’s presence seemed to rip any control he had over himself away from him.

Grayson pulled out of the parking lot, a silence between him and Lyra, before Lyra spoke.

“This is my first office job. I’ve worked a part-time job before at some diner, but never a job like this.” She said, breaking the silence. Grayson glanced at her, his eyes having to fight to go back to the road. What was wrong with him?

“I want to say you got lucky, but after today…” Grayson said, the barest smile touching his lips. “I don’t think it was just luck on your side.” Lyra let out the barest laugh, and Grayson was surprised. He realized then that he’d never heard her laugh, let alone smile. It wasn’t too bad on her.

“Yeah, well, I proved myself.” she said. Grayson didn’t hear it in her tone, but he knew she was proud. Lyra loved this. Grayson didn’t reply, but he made a “hm” sound in the back of his throat. Lyra looked at him.

“What, you don’t think I did?” Lyra inquired. The smile on his lips slightly grew.

“No, you definitely did. In more ways than one.” Grayson said. In the corner of his eye, Lyra frowned.

“What do you mean, “in more ways than one”?” she asked.

“I mean you proved yourself by working hard… and by yelling at me multiple times.” Grayson deadpanned. Lyra snorted.

“Hasn’t anybody told you? Every good assistant yells at their boss.” Lyra joked. Grayson’s lips twitched as he parked on the street walking distance from the cafe.

“We’re here,” he said. He wondered if it’d be weird or not to open her door, but then Lyra opened it up herself and got out, making the decision for him. Grayson and Lyra walked inside, and Grayson saw the expression on her face when she took in the place.

“Do you like it?” he asked, sitting down at a table. Lyra looked at him, her eyes sparkling and the amber of her eyes made even more golden with the cafe lighting.

“Yes. It’s lovely.” she said in a softer tone than earlier, glancing around. Grayson stared at her, his eyes unwilling of drawing away from hers, when a waitress showed up beside them.

“Welcome! What may I get you two?” the waitress asked. Lyra and Grayson glanced up in unison, and Grayson was about to speak when the waitress cut him off.

“Ah, Mr. Hawthorne! I’ll get you your usual black coffee. And for you, miss?” the woman asked, her voice sweet as she turned to Lyra. Lyra seemed to have a disgusted look on her face, before she placed her order.

“A drip coffee with 2 creams and 2 sugars, please.” Lyra asked. Now it was Grayson’s turn to make a face. 2 creams? 2 sugars? Coffee was better unflavoured. The waitress nodded and walked away. Immediately Lyra turned to him.

“A black coffee? Do you come here to punish yourself?” she asked, seemingly appalled. Grayson gave her a look.

“Coffee doesn’t need to be sweetened. How do you expect to stay awake with your order?” he asked. Lyra returned the look.

“At that point, just eat coffee grounds. It has the same effect, and black coffee and coffee grounds are both equally as disgusting.” Lyra told him. Grayson’s lip curved.

“I’ll bring some to the office tomorrow to snack on.” he stated, amused despite himself. Lyra snorted.

“You know, you think it’s obvious that you’re joking, but it’s very much not.” Lyra said. Grayson’s lips stretched further.

“Well, at least I know now to not start my own comedy routine.” Grayson deadpanned. Lyra gave him another one of her discreet smiles, stopping Grayson in his tracks. The waitress was again by their side, saving Grayson from staring again.

“Your coffees.” she said, placing Lyra’s too-sweet coffee in front of her and Grayson’s black coffee in front of him.

As soon as the waitress walked away, Grayson could practically hear Lyra thinking up a retort. And then it came.

“How’s your cyanide in a cup?” she asked as soon as Grayson took a sip. He smiled. There it was.

“Perfect. How’s your diabetes in a cup?” Grayson retorted.

“Splendid.”

And just like that, conversation began to fizzle, with Grayson telling stories of different work incidents and his childhood, and Lyra telling Grayson her own childhood stories. But one thing Grayson noticed was that every time Grayson mentioned work, Lyra looked nervous. Grayson frowned after she’d looked away when he mentioned the word “meeting”.

“Why are you so nervous?” he asked. Lyra raised a brow at him, and Grayson immediately realized his mistake, putting his hands up.

“I didn’t mean—“

“Because I’m in the Grayson Hawthorne’s presence.” Lyra interrupted, pretending to be in awe. Grayson gave her a look despite his lips twitching.

“I meant, you just look restless every time I even mention work. What’s going on?” Grayson asked. Lyra straightened, fidgeting with her coffee cup slightly.

“This… meeting,” Lyra dragged the words, her tone shy despite her impulsive attitude. “is my first one. I’m a bit nervous.” Grayson blinked.

“Don’t be. It’s very easy. And besides, this office job is your first one, and you are a natural.” Grayson assured Lyra. She still looked doubtful, despite the confident look she was now wearing on her face. Grayson pulled his chair closer into the table, meeting her eyes.

“Here, if it helps, try thinking positive thoughts.” Grayson said. Lyra raised a brow.

“Positive thoughts?” she inquired.

“Yes. You know, rainbows, kittens, clouds…” Grayson began to trail off. Lyra’s raised brow deepened as Grayson tried to continue.

“Candy, chocolate…. furry… little…. I’m out.”

“Thank god.” she said. A notification interrupted Grayson’s retort, and Grayson checked it.

“Oh, we have to go now. We can’t be late.” Grayson said, seeing that the time was 7:10. Grayson waved at the waitress who had served him, Sarah, to give them their bill. She immediately came over, holding out a card reader.

“Your bill is $7.89. Pay when you’re ready.” Sarah, one of the many workers here that Grayson knew by name, told them, her voice patient. Grayson took out his card in the same moment that Lyra did. Their eyes met.

“We can split it?” Lyra offered. Grayson’s eyes narrowed.

“No. I’ll pay.” he told her. Lyra gave him a look.

“Okay, I’ll pay for the tip.” she insisted.

“Lyra.”

“What?”

“I’m paying.”

“I don’t get why we can’t just split it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Because I’m your boss and I order you to not pay.” Lyra gave him a glare. Yes, he really did just go there, because Lyra wasn’t paying. He was.

Sarah cleared her throat, and Grayson realized she was still there. Lyra was about to say something when he quickly placed his card on the reader, giving the usual $50 custom tip that Sarah already had down for him, smiling when he heard the beep. Sarah gave him a nod and walked away.

As soon as Grayson turned to Lyra, she had the nastiest look on her face.

“Really?” she asked. Grayson gave her a look of his own.

“Absolutely.” he retorted, getting up and grabbing his suit jacket from where it was placed on the chair. Lyra huffed and got up as well, and the two of them began to walk out. Grayson stopped abruptly, and Lyra did the same.

“It’s raining.” Grayson said. Lyra stared at him.

“So what?” Lyra asked. Grayson looked at her.

“The cars parked all the way on the street.” he said, pointing to the car, unsure why Lyra wasn’t getting his point. He turned back to the window of the door. “This seems like a bad storm.”

Lyra snorted. “Don’t be worried about the storm. I’ll grab the ark, and you grab the animals.” Lyra said, thoroughly amused. Grayson raised a brow at the firecracker beside him, choosing to ignore her sarcastic remark.

“I mean you’re not properly dressed. You don’t even have a coat.” he pointed out. Fanning out his suit jacket, Grayson flattened it as best as he could.

“What are you doing?” Lyra asked, surprised as Grayson began to drape the jacket over her head.

“You shouldn’t be soaking wet for your first meeting. At least just wear it like that to the car.” he persuaded her, gently patting the jacket on her head so it would stay. He loved something about the movement, and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the sheer gentleness of his actions combined with how she looked, snug under his jacket.

Grayson looked away.

“Okay, be ready to run.” he told her.

Then the two of them set off for the car, the wind fierce and the rain fiercer as they raced away from the cafe. Grayson saw that the wind was forcing his suit jacket off Lyra’s head, and he pulled her close towards him as he ran to the street, flattening it over her head. Lyra looked up at him, her amber eyes glowing in the pouring rain, and Grayson had to remind himself that he couldn’t stare. That he couldn’t touch her without a cause.

But still, he justified the rain trying to force the jacket off of her as means to pull her closer.

Once they made it to the car, Grayson pulled the door open for her, and Lyra scrambled in. Then he quickly hurried onto his side and hurried into the car, slamming it shut immediately.

“Oh my god.” Lyra said. They both just sat there for a moment, drenched in rain, before Grayson saw Lyra shiver and remembered that the car wasn’t on. He immediately turned it on, putting the heat to max and both their seat warmers as well. There was a beat of silence, before Lyra turned to him and started laughing uncontrollably. Grayson was surprised, never having heard her laugh this loudly or for this long. It really was a beautiful sound. Grayson stared at her with a smile on his face.

“What?” he asked. Lyra shook her head, not being able to contain her laughter, before finally pressing a fist to her mouth and forcing her giggles to subside.

“We are drenched, and the meetings in 5 minutes. At least my hair’s not so bad, but yours….” she trailed off and began to laugh again, and Grayson was confused before he looked at himself in the rearview mirror. His hair was flattened to his forehead. Bristling, he began to try and fix it, and Lyra started laughing harder. Because of this, he couldn’t continue to fake a scowl, and a true grin found its way onto his face.

“Okay, I will try my best not to be offended by your laughter and focus on the fact that we are going to be late.” Grayson said, a smile still on his face. He pulled off the road and began to drive back to his workplace.

Just yesterday Lyra and him were on opposing ends, Grayson’s pride offending her and Lyra’s stubbornness defying him.

But just like that, the two were laughing together in his car, drenched by the rain and uncaring of that fact.

How things were beginning to change.

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