cherrys-writings

[cherrys-writings]

i hope that everything will be okay! and i know we're only acquainted through a screen, but your moots are here if you need somebody to talk to!

Thank you anon 💕

The Great Gigi Grayson once said "Here, have a cat."

[cherrys-writings]

hey are you ok? You haven’t posted in a while.

I appreciate your concern anon...tbh my mental health has been at an all time low. There's some stuff going on in life that's made home not feel safe anymore and moving out is impossible.

[cherrys-writings]

“it’s starting to smell like pumpkin spice!”

“it’s starting to smell like scary movies!”

no.

it’s starting to smell like, the snow in the mountains was melting and bunny had been dead for several weeks before we came to realize the gravity of our situation.

[cherrys-writings]

Sorry I've been MIA...

Until I get the next fic finished, please enjoy this eloquently worded fuck off I sent to a guy

(he deserved every word)

You want to be entertained? You do realize that in relationships it's not your partner’s job to entertain you like you're a child. If you're always looking for entertainment then you'll definitely be alone forever.

What happened to everything I do is for a reason every word I say every action I take is for a reason? Either you're some kind of presumptuous wannabe or you're a pretentious, new age, faux deep, philosopher.

I've been giving you the benefit of the doubt because I don't know what it's like to be you. Even though you have such pejorative ideas about the rest of humanity, I listened to your opinions. You should try looking in the mirror because while you're busy criticizing everyone else for wallowing in their own misery and looking for reasons to stay miserable, you're doing the exact same thing. Actually, you might be worse because you sit there petulantly bellyaching about how every friend you ever had has either abandoned or betrayed you and every woman you talk to has ghosted you even though you're “just being nice”. Constantly saying you don't see a reason to dilute your "personality" to make yourself more palatable for others isn't a unique trait. It's how you rationalize your pugnacious nature and narcissistic tendencies.

I like to think I'm smart, but clearly I hit my head on something for considering you as a possibility and having interest in you.

[cherrys-writings]

Rereading TFG is giving me a lot of angst ideas for Suits, Scones, and Serendipity

Finished THL

I really liked watching Avery and Jameson's relationship grow, not just romantically.

The scene where Jameson is yelling at Grayson for not running to Avery after the bomb still angers me to no end. Jameson didn't even try to understand why Grayson froze. Makes me think back to book 1 where Jameson KNEW Grayson would come back and find Em*ly dead and he still walked away.

Let's see if I can read The Final Gambit in one sitting

[cherrys-writings]

Hi I was just wondering if you have any Grayson fics coming up?

Yes! Finishing up Grayson x Sunshine reader when Eve shows up. Starting one that involves swimming. Deciding if the Nastiest Grayson fic ever will have feels or not. Drafting another few chapters of Suits, Scones, and Serendipity

[cherrys-writings]

The Perfect Moment

Hey! I know it's been forever and a day since I've updated this series. Thanks to all of you patient people who love Grayson and Flower

Grayson’s talk of inheritance has me thinking about the mysterious box that’s been living on my kitchen table. I rip the tape off. Inside, I find an envelope sitting on top of another box; this one wooden.

How original. 

A flashdrive clatters onto the table when I pull out the letter.

Take care of them.

T. Hawthorne

The last thing I need is to be pulled into one of this man’s puzzles. Then again, I may have pulled Grayson to the forefront of the rumor mill. I take the box and flashdrive upstairs. As soon as I plug it into my laptop a passphrase prompt appears.

Wilde

I type in my immediate thought, a line from the book that allegedly had several pages removed by the editor without the author’s knowledge. A line that remains an unexplainable favorite.

“I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit”

The text box shakes on the screen and the line disappears. The passphrase likely relates to the four words of his letter, but it can’t be so obscure that I wouldn’t know it. I picked up the wooden box, not much bigger than a tea tin, and gave it a shake. There’s a light rattling, probably whatever’s inside. The lid has eight diamonds embedded in its surface. Seven of them form a vague outline of a house. If the house had no floor and one side was longer than the other. The eighth diamond sits alone at one corner. I try to take the top off, but it doesn’t move, sliding it doesn’t work.

I stare at the box. One problem at a time. I know I have to tell Grayson about the incident, but he’s already dealing with a lot. He’ll be upset, though probably not enough to argue about it. Even if he does, there’s no way it could be as bad as our last argument. I doubt anything could compare to those weeks more than a year ago; the pained, rage-filled glances. Constantly running into each other at school, around town, and drawing breath to speak before thinking better of it. The agonizing distance that grew each day, but nothing hurt quite as much as the victorious grin on the face of that strawberry-blonde sociopath. 

“She just made a joke,” Grayson’s defensive words echoed through my mind as the fight played out again. 

“She humiliated him and you know it was deliberate.” I had to force myself to speak normally. No matter how much I wanted to yell, I knew who I was arguing and there was no way in hell that I’d raise my voice first.

“So what if she was testing him?” 

“Oh? That’s how you’re spinning this?”

Grayson took a step closer, “The only one here that’s spinning is you. I get in a relationship and suddenly you’re having this identity crisis; hanging around this guy with questionable work ethic and unrealistic aspirations for his future.”

I rake my hands through my hair, “You don't like Cade because he’s on scholarship AND lets himself have fun and relax. We have opportunities people would die for. Cade worked hard to get where he is and knows it doesn’t stop here.”

“Show me these opportunities, Flower,” Grayson scoffs, “After that gap year, my life is over.”

“Then why are you wasting your time letting yourself get manipulated by some greedy girl?” My raging words echoed through the great room.

“There it is,” he shook his head, “you’re jealous because of how much time I spend with her.”

The next several seconds are painfully clear in my mind and probably one of Hawthorne House’s many security cameras. Both of us acting on instinct, Grayson grabbing my wrist as I walked away, me breaking the grip and shoving his arm back hard. Grayson tried to blink away the tears welling in his eyes. I had walked out before he could draw breath to apologise.

I shuddered at the memory. Grayson had apologised weeks later for everything. Sometime between me ending things with Cade and Emily….

Willa rubbed her face against my arm, clearly tired of waiting for my attention. She starts purring when I scratch her head. “I don’t think Gray will be too upset about the incident, do you?”

She just lays across the keyboard, deciding which problem I’ll deal with first. 

*******************************

I played with the little box while waiting for Grayson to show up. He finally walks in when I’m tracing the design for what feels like the millionth time. 

“You said you needed to tell me something.” Grayson sat beside me, momentarily distracted by the wooden box.

“It’s about this morning.”

“Specifically?” “When I got home and Olive was here.” My heart pounds as I prepare for what comes next. I keep my eyes on the box, sliding my finger from diamond to diamond. “My class heard everything about last night.”

Grayson chokes, “By everything you mean?”

I nod, “Every detail I told Olive.”

He takes a deep breath, “Okay.”

Grayson rises to stand by the window, watching the late afternoon sun sink lower. “Well, there’s been nothing on gossip sites today.” He massages his forehead, “You have that interview tomorrow about that slasher book you wrote senior year, right.”

“Yeah.”

Grayson lets out a long breath, “Maybe there’s nothing to worry about. If someone asks you about it or anything remotely close to the topic, let me know. We’ll deal with it together.”

[cherrys-writings]

Hi :)

Could you maybe write smth where Grayson is hospitalized and Jameson is pretending he doesn’t care (but he does)

A Few Minutes With His Brother

Warnings: Angst, Bodily injury, hurt Grayson

Grayson was catching up with Avery and the bodyguards when he was thrown from his feet, heat searing his shoulder. He landed hard on the cold asphalt with a sickening crack. Grayson tried to push himself up only for blinding pain to force him back to the ground. Ears ringing, he tried to look for Avery. She needed to be safe. Something was dripping into his eyes. Grayson fought to keep them open, he had to make sure Avery was safe, for Jameson’s sake. Blurry figures were running towards him, someone was yelling. Fuck, his head hurt…everything hurt. Grayson wanted to escape the pain for just a second when he let his eyes fall shut.

***********************************

Oren held Avery back while his men rushed to check on Grayson. He was too still. She kept waiting for him to get up and dust off his suit. His pained yelling stopped so suddenly Avery could only assume the worst. She didn’t force herself to stifle her sobs. Grayson was just trying to help her figure out part of the puzzle that was Hawthorne Island. Instead, he got caught up in an attempt to end her life. 

“Stop fighting me so I can let the paramedics through when they arrive,” Oren growled.

“Is he BREATHING?” Avery screamed as Oren hauled her to the bullet-proof SUV. 

One of the men had two fingers pressed to Graysons neck, “Don’t move him,” he said. 

Sirens blared in the distance and Avery could just make out the red flashing lights of the first responders. She tried to open the door. She needed to see for herself that Grayson was breathing, but it wouldn’t budge. Apparently bullet-proof cars come with child locks. 

Avery watched as they put a brace around Grayson’s neck and slowly got him onto a backboard. She didn’t see much else as they loaded him into the ambulance, one of her security team riding along. She watched the firefighters spray water on the ball of flame that was once a jet as the rest of the security team made their way back to the SUV. The one in the passenger seat told Oren what hospital the three ambulances were going to. Avery hadn’t seen the other two injured men, her focus only on Grayson. 

Avery was taken directly to a hotel, despite her protests to go to the hospital. She paced the room as she waited for Oren to return with news. Suddenly, Avery realised she should let everyone know what happened, although someone probably notified them. Still, she got her phone out anyway and called Libby. 

“Avery! Nash just got a call. Something about a bomb on the plane, are you okay?” Libby was on the verge of tears. 

“I’m alright Libs, but…Grayson,” she took a deep breath, “Grayson’s hurt. I don’t know how bad it is; they won’t let me near the hospital.”

There was yelling in the background. “We’re on our way Avery.”

***********************************

Grayson squinted against the too bright lights. He groaned as the pain came flooding back. His head, ribs, shoulder, just about everything hurt. He tried to turn his head, but something wouldn’t let him. A gentle hand was on his shoulder when he tried to sit up. 

“You’re in the hospital. The plane exploded. They say you might need surgery.”

Grayson recognised the member of Avery’s security, but his name eluded him. If that ringing would stop maybe he could remember. 

A nurse walked in, “your c-spine is okay, so we can take that off your neck now. The trauma surgeon is reviewing your scans.”

After she left the room Grayson asked, “where’s Avery?”

“She’s safe, sir.”

The response sounded far away as black dotted his vision again. People around him started moving quickly and his bed was rolling down the halls. He was pulled from one bed to another. Someone was talking to Grayson, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. Maybe something about oxygen. He let the darkness overtake him again. 

***********************************

“Maybe he’ll finally be rid of that stick up his ass,” Jameson sneered.

“That’s enough Jamie,” Nash said, striding over to take his brother by the arm. Nash pulled him into the bathroom, practically throwing Jameson inside. “We almost lost our brother and all you can do is make jokes. I know you two had your fights, but this is just sick.”

Jameson rolled his eyes, “Grayson will be awake and bossing everyone around again in no time at all. He’ll walk it off.”

Everyone took turns sitting in Grayson’s room. The second he was stable, they had him moved to Hawthorne House. Believing he would recover quicker if he was at home. Grayson still hadn’t woken up. Jameson wouldn’t stop telling anyone who would listen how quickly Grayson would bounce back, his voice shakier each time. Jameson had taken to sleeping in a recliner beside Grayson’s bed. It had been nearly a week since the bomb, while Grayson continued to improve physically, he wasn’t showing signs of waking anytime soon. Jameson’s attitude turned the third day he was home. He never left Grayson’s room, barely ate, and if they listened closely, they could hear Jamie’s shaky voice telling his brother how much he loved and needed him. That he was lost without his older brother and even though they fight he wants Grayson in his life more than anything. At night, Jameson didn’t stop any tears that fell as he held Grayson’s hand and stared at the sharp lines on the heart monitor, the only indication that his brother was still with him. 

Nash and Xander could barely get Jameson away long enough to take a proper shower. He was always back within a few minutes, hair wet, taking his spot again in the recliner. Avery tried to get Jameson to play chess, but that only upset him more. He and Grayson had learned together after all. Avery had no idea what to do. Jameson had never been this broken up about anything before. She would sit with him by Grayson’s bed, trailing her fingers up and down his arm. Sometimes she could get him to take a few bites of food, but most of the time he would just sip the water she would bring. Avery hated that she couldn’t constantly stay with the two of them. Some nights she would sleep on a cot set up in the room. Other nights she would stroke Jameson’s hair until he fell asleep, one hand resting on Grayson’s bed. 

Something stirred Jameson in the middle of the night. It took him a moment to hear the faint, scratchy voice asking, “Where? Where?”

He could hear the fear creeping into Grayson’s voice and he scrambled to turn on the lamp on a nearby table. Grayson groaned in pain at the sudden brightness. Jameson could hardly believe it; his brother was awake. Grayson’s eyes had finally opened. Jameson sniffled, trying not to tear up just yet.

“Where?”

Jameson rushed back to sit on the edge of the bed, “Home. You’re home Gray.”

Tears streamed down his face as he stared at Grayson. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to his brother’s. “You woke up.”

Grayson wrapped an arm weakly around Jameson, “It’s okay Jamie. It’s okay now.”

Jameson sat back, it wasn’t okay yet. He had no idea how to begin. How to tell Grayson how afraid he had been. How worried everyone was. He knew he should call the doctor and get Grayson assessed, but he needed a few more minutes with his brother. 

Grayson reached for his brother’s hand, squeezing it as tightly as he could, “I love you too Jamie.”

************************************************************************

I'm slowly but surely getting requests written. Thank you for your patience!

[cherrys-writings]

Dating grayson and him getting jealous?:)thank youu!!

Your Favorite Kisses

+18 Explicit sexual content, biting, marking, jealous Grayson

It’s not like you could have guessed this was the missing piece to your relationship. Probably a dream relationship, two friends accidentally falling for each other. You and Grayson becoming an Us. Nothing felt more right, you had him now and you couldn’t get enough, finally able to touch every inch of him. You tangle your fingers in his light hair, losing yourselves in each other. Grayson’s toned body trapping you against the wall, wandering hands teetering the line between confidence and hesitation. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Never failing to pull a gasp from you when he easily hauls you off your feet. You get to watch Grayson let go of his control. His perfect, deliberate kisses turning rushed and clumsy. The grazes of his teeth turning to full bites. 

The little “innocent” kisses. Something about when he kisses your hand makes you blush harder than anything. In public, Grayson will rarely do more than kiss your hands or cheeks, but he doesn’t keep his hands to himself. Always needing physical contact: an arm around your waist, a gentle hand on the small of your back, hand resting on your knee, or his fingers laced with yours. 

Affectionately dubbed the “princely brother,” Grayson once responded to a question about your relationship with, “she’s my queen.”

Then there are the less frenzied kisses. When you’re straddling his lap or laying on top of him. Grayson is content to hold you against him and explore your mouth with his tongue. His hands cradling your face, gently biting your lip, groaning into your mouth when you inevitably roll your hips against his. Until his large hands lock you in place, shushing your whine with an “I know sweetheart,” murmured against your skin. Always waiting for you to settle before starting again. Slowly getting you riled up with his hands lazily wandering, until you’re practically begging him to fuck you. Even then, he takes his time, worshiping every inch of your body. Kissing every area of exposed flesh, sucking and biting until you’re marked to his liking. Each one in a place for his eyes alone. 

You wouldn’t dare let anyone know that your favorite kisses come when Grayson is jealous. When someone has been staring too long, gotten a little too touchy,or flirted a bit too hard. Grayson has only so much self-control and it takes all of it to civilly get you away from whoever thinks they can touch what belongs to him and get you out of there. He doesn’t let you get a word out before crashing his mouth to yours, claiming the sounds you make as he pins you against the nearest wall, counter, whatever and pushing his thigh between your legs. 

Biting the sensitive part of your neck and growling, “almost bent you over and fucked you right there. Show him exactly who you belong to.”

Grayson’s hand covering your mouth as he plunges his fingers into your soaked entrance. “So wet already. Bet you wanted him to see me fuck you, huh?”

Your barely muffled moans are answer enough, his fingers curling just right. Grayson is just as relentless with his fingers as he is with his cock, bringing you to the edge, but not letting you fall into bliss, not yet. He wants to hear you beg for it. Beg for him to let you come. He doesn’t care who hears you, they’ll all know how good he makes you feel. The things you let him do to you. Not that pompous ass that had the audacity to touch what’s his. 

Grayson has you bent over a counter, hand tangled in your hair, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he takes what he needs. You’re thankful for the waterproof mascara when tears pool in your eyes because it's too much but just so good. His face pressed against your neck, muttering obscene words as he leaves deep purple bruises you know you won’t be able to hide. 

“Everyone will know who you belong to now. Fuck. Gonna have my cum running down your thighs the rest of the evening.”

Grayson stifles his groans against your neck, “who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours.” you pant

“Tell them who you belong to,” he growls

“I’M YOURS”

Your legs nearly give out when you come, shuddering in his arms. His hips jerk then still when he finally comes, panting against your shoulder. He helps you fix your hair as best you can before finding a back way to sneak you out of whatever event you’re at. Grayson makes sure to go back and find that bastard. Keeping eye contact as he wipes your smeared lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief.

[cherrys-writings]

Storytime

Nash x Libby

I have so may wips, but I couldn't resist the urge

Nash had said "The Love Hypothesis" was a good book. He even told her some fun trivia about it, that it was originally a Reylo fanfic set in a grad school AU. Libby was secretly a Reylo shipper and liked the idea of a STEM romance. Nash did not prepare her for the scene towards the end. Libby should not have been sitting in one of the many libraries reading it. Heat crept up her neck as she read the scene. 

“Have you finished the book yet?” A familiar voice called from the door way.

Libby snapped the book shut, “not quite.”

She stood and tried to leave, keeping her head lowered to hide her pink cheeks, but Nash was blocking her path. He slouched a bit trying to get to eye level with her, crooked grin on his face. 

“Where ya goin’ sweetheart?” 

“I just remembered…I have to…um there’s cookies in the oven,” Libby stammered. 

“I didn’t smell any cookies on my way here,” Nash drawled.

“I meant I had to put cookies in the oven,” her eyes darted around the room.

“Where are you at in that book I gave you?”

Libby gasped and took a step back, “why does it matter?”

Nash chuckled, “I think I know what part you’re at. Do you want me to read it to you?” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest when he took the book from her hands and pulled her back to her spot in the library. He started the scene from the beginning, the filthy words made even dirtier by his Texas drawl. Nash didn’t rush through the scene, he savored each word and glanced at Libby periodically. He loved how the blush creeped up to her ears as he read. How her lips were parted slightly almost like a perpetual gasp. Nash had to stifle a groan when she wet her lips and not so subtly shifted in her seat. He knew she was picturing the two of them together and he couldn’t help but do the same, his cock painfully hard by the time he reached the end. 

Nash barely made eye contact with Libby before she pounced. 

@thescribblednovel thanks for putting the idea in my head

[cherrys-writings]

I know this is annoying bc you just uploaded one but I love ur fics sm and I was just wondering if you have any in Grayson fics coming up in general

Gummy Bears

It's not annoying I love hearing from you guys! Again thank you for your patience

Warnings: 18+, Depiction of drug use (edibles)

“One rule before we do this,” You say, “you don't leave until you sober up. Understand?”

Grayson nods, his posture almost studious. You open the bottle of edibles and grab one of the blue gummies. He reaches out, but stops himself, remembering what you told him earlier. He already knew about the overall effect of weed. You wouldn't be surprised if he took notes while researching the subject, but he needed to be warned about edibles. Especially since it would be his first experience. You rip off a small portion and set it on a napkin on the table.

“You don't have to eat it if you don't want to.” You walk back into the kitchen, grabbing various snacks options before plopping beside Gray on the couch.

“How long does it take to kick in?” 

You settle closer to him, “Depends on the person. The only thing you should think about is what show you're picking.” 

 You look at Grayson several minutes later. He's staring straight ahead, lips pursed. “How am I supposed to know if I'm high?” 

You don't have much of an answer for him, “tell me how you feel”

Grayson lifts one hand and starts slowly uncurling a fist, extending his fingers, and flopping his wrist forward before repeating the motion. Like a slow motion, exaggerated post fist bump explosion. He does the same thing with his other hand, giggling. Grayson Hawthorne is giggling. 

He looks at me while continuing the motions, big grin on his face like he's figured out an impossible question. 

“Try it,” he says, “is this what swimming feels like as a jellyfish?” 

You humor him and mimic the jellyfish hands.

 Grayson keeps giggling, “you feel like a jellyfish, yeah?”

“Yes, Gray it feels like a jellyfish.”

Grayson grabs a jar of pickles from the table, “Would you be a jellyfish if you could?”

“No, they don’t have brains,” you grab a pickle from the jar and begin munching.

Grayson is chomping on his third pickle when he says, “Jameson is a jellyfish.” 

The giggles start again and you have to take the jar from Grayson’s hands before he spills pickle juice on himself. Each time you think he’s going to calm down he says it again and has another fit of giggling.

[cherrys-writings]

Grayson hawthorne x reader where reader is badly hurt and is in hopsital or something !!

Thank you for being so patient!

ICU

Brief description of panic attack

Grayson

Grayson was sitting in his office at the Hawthorne Foundation when he got the call. The news wasn’t coming from you, but your friend, she was sitting in the ER with you.

“What do you mean you took her to the ER, Marcie?” Grayson couldn’t wrap his head around it. You assured him it was just a headache, you would be fine, he should go to work. 

Marcie’s harsh tone pulled him from his thoughts, “She texted me saying she really didn’t feel well. Her head hurt and she was throwing up, dizzy and she said it didn’t feel right. When I got there she was burning up. What else do you want me to say?” 

There were voices in the background, Grayson heard the muffled sounds of the medical staff, “What hospital?”

“It was hard enough getting them to let me back, I had to explain how far away her parents were, I doubt they’ll let you.”

“What. Hospital.” Grayson was starting to lose it. His heart was already racing, shaky hand practically crushing the phone when Marcie finally answered. He took a deep breath and stood, forcing himself to walk out of the building. 

He’s not there. You’re not okay and he’s not there. Tears blur Grayson’s vision, what if you’re dying. He’s not there. Terror churns in Grayson’s stomach, his steps quicken away from the exit and towards the restroom. Grayson pulls harshly at his tie then the top buttons of his shirt, the building’s too hot. Grayson’s breaths come in gasps as he splashes cold water on his face, sweat dripping from his temples. If the building weren’t so goddamn hot, he might be able to get a full breath of air. 

Why is he taking a detour when he needs to be with you?  

Your POV

You whined when the lights were turned on again, the beams like needles through your skull, and squeezed your eyes shut. You barely heard the nurse explain that the strep and flu tests were negative and they were waiting for the bloodwork to come back. He dimmed the lights before leaving and Marcie thanked him. 

“I called Grayson. He’ll probably be here soon,” Marcie slowly ran her fingers through your hair. 

“Grayson?” you hadn’t seen Marcie leave. When did she have time to call him? You’re pretty sure she never left your side.

You clutched your stomach against another rush of nausea, gritting your teeth through the accompanying cramps. Marcie kept petting your hair, when you heard a familiar, modulated voice just beyond the door, “Will this be an issue?”

Through the brain fog, you can almost picture the expectant look on Grayson’s face when he said that, mouth in a hard line, gaze slightly narrowed. Based on the delay between his question and the poor victim’s response, he did the eyebrow thing. Light-headedness washed over you again when you turned too quickly toward the opening door. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing your sight to focus. Grayson was sitting in the chair beside your bed when you opened your eyes again, blue surgical mask covering half his face. You leaned into his touch when he brought his hand to your forehead.

Grayson’s red rimmed eyes widened, “what was her temperature when she arrived?” 

You hadn’t noticed your nurse was back, giving you anti-nausea medication through your i.v. “It was 104℉, but we’ve gotten it to come down to 102℉,” he said, “our doc wants to do a lumbar puncture. That will give us a better picture of what’s going on and then we can get you feelin’ better.”

Thankfully, the nurses set up the equipment for the lumbar puncture quickly, the ER not yet flooded with patients. It was hard to concentrate on what the doctor was saying, but you got the gist. Lay on your side, be still, they’ll give you a little bit of medicine to help with your pain and make staying still a little easier. Only when they started to explain that Marcie and Grayson needed to leave did you protest.

The previously steady heart monitor began to beep, giving away your anxiety. “Wait, no,” you sat straight up, room spinning again. 

To no one’s surprise, Grayson hadn’t moved from his chair when he was instructed. Marcie was halfway out, eyes flitting between you, the medical staff, and Grayson. It was Gray who spoke first, cool voice taking control of the situation.

“She’s obviously terrified. I’m not going to leave my girlfriend alone for this test when she’s already a bit confused from this illness. We all know things go smoothly when the patient is calm.” 

Grayson had moved a chair to sit right by your face, stroking your cheek. He let you take his other hand in yours, eyes never leaving you. There was no warning for the floating sensation as the nurse injected medication into your i.v. and immediately the pain in your head eased. Cold spread across your lower back and the doctor asked you to take a deep breath before inserting the needle. You let out a whimper and squeezed Grayson’s hand against the pressure.

“Stay still darling,” Grayson hushed, lightly running a hand down your arm, “you’re doing great. They’re almost done.” 

You watched the nurse in front of you hand the doctor gauze and a bandage. With Grayson by your side you didn’t try too hard to concentrate on what was said following the procedure. Laying flat on your back for the next hour waiting for results, you tried getting some rest, knowing Grayson would take care of you. 

********************************

You woke to Grayson gently shaking your shoulder and the doctor standing in front of you. 

“The results of the lumbar puncture came back, you have bacterial meningitis. We’re going to start you on some i.v. antibiotics down here and you’ll be taken up to the ICU shortly. They’ll monitor you the next few days and, depending on your condition, move you to med/surg where you’ll finish treatment.” 

Despite the change of scenery, it was still freezing. Grayson perched on one side of your bed, fussing with another blanket and tucking it around your shoulders. From this angle you could see the lines of worry on his face, tension in his jaw, and the tears once again trickling down his cheeks. You reached out, wiping his face with your hand, “I’m okay, Grayson”

He kissed your palm, “You’re in the ICU, sweetie. Doesn’t exactly qualify as okay.” 

“Look at me Gray,” you lifted his chin, “I’ll be okay.”

Grayson sighed, “you could have–”

“But I didn’t. I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

Before he can respond, there’s a gentle knock followed by a nurse entering. She introduces herself and takes your vitals, explaining your treatment plan and the general rules of the ICU; only one visitor at a time. It was hard keeping your eyes open and paying attention to her words. She looks at Grayson, “If you’re around each other often the doctor will want to have you on antibiotics as well, just to be safe. Is there anyone else who’s around frequently?”

“Marcie.”

“The friend who brought her,” Grayson clarified, “ I can give you her contact information.”

The nurse nods, “Please tell anyone that might want to visit that they need to be wearing a mask. Until she’s out of the ICU at the very least.”

When the nurse left you finally let your eyes shut, drifting to sleep as Grayson’s fingertips glided along your hand. 

You were awoken a few hours later to someone taking your vitals, quietly letting them take your temperature. Gray’s hand still on yours tightened when the thermometer beeped. You watched him straighten in the chair, clearly having dozed off earlier. His voice gravely when he asked, “how you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

Your nurse removed the blood pressure cuff, “it’s a good thing you came here when you did. With a fever that high it’s a wonder you were even conscious. Get some rest, if you need anything just press the call button.”

You thanked her and looked back to Grayson, “you can go home. Get some sleep in a real bed. I’ll be okay here.”

Grayson stared into your eyes, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

The first few days passed like that, Grayson by your side as you slept. Sometimes you woke up and he would be reading, other times he would be asleep too. His hair falling in his face, light stubble on his face, and the worried crease in his brow gone even for a small amount of time. By the fifth day when you were no longer contagious, you were moved to a regular room; private at Grayson’s insistence. Several bouquets of your favorite flowers sat on the tables around the room. 

Now that you were allowed more than one visitor at a time there was almost a revolving door of Hawthornes. Nash making sure Grayson wasn’t being overbearing, Libby bringing cupcakes for you and medical staff on the floor. Day seven had you going stir crazy. You were still on iv antibiotics to make sure the infection was completely out of your system, but you were feeling considerably better. Xander visited for the first time that day, bringing with him a book of magnet block challenges. He even offered to make Rube Goldberg machines for the light switch and curtains. 

Grayson drove you to Hawthorne House the day you were discharged. “Gray, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m fine now,” you insisted.

“Sweetie, you had a serious illness that might have neurological side effects. I want to make sure you’re still recovering well.”

You hadn’t told him about the lingering brain fog, but somehow he picked up on it.  Grayson had no idea how his actions warmed your heart. Of course, he had a bedroom ready for you, but you opted to stay in his room. Grayson crawled into bed next to you, finally able to hold you close after this scare. “I love you, Gray.”

***************

Thank you for being so patient! Other requests I promise I haven't forgotten about you and will be posting them soon.

[cherrys-writings]

Are you going to continue the grayson×flower story?

Yes I will be, as soon as I figure out the perfect way to introduce Avery and Flower 😅

I'm open to suggestions

[cherrys-writings]

Do you have any idea when ur next fic is going to be out ?

18+ only

Missed You

You stumble through the dark halls of your family’s estate, the promise of your bed the only thing keeping awake now. You round the corner, there’s a light under your door. Silently opening the door and walking through the sitting area to your bedroom. Through the dim glow you can just make out Grayson under your blankets, fast asleep with the most adorable pout on his face. You tip-toe by, slipping into just a long t-shirt and watch him for a minute. Grayson shifts around groaning, “So wet for me. Dirty girl, you gonna let me have a taste?”

You stare, open mouthed, at your boyfriend; his mumbles pleas pushing away your fatigue momentarily.  

“It’s been too long, Dove, need you to come on my face. Won’t stop ‘til you’re crying.”

Before you know it, you’re on your knees beside his sleeping form, kissing his stomach where his shirt rumpled up. Grayson sighs, but shows no sign of waking. You lean down to kiss your way up his neck, quietly giggling at how responsive he is, leaning his head to the side asking for more. Slowly, you kiss and nip your way to his ear murmuring, “Wake up, Gray.” 

After an eternity, he stirs, hands tangling in your hair, “You’re home,” his voice raspy, “I wanted to be the first person to see you when you got back, Dove.” 

He kisses you long and slow, like he could make the moment last forever. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Were you having a good dream?”

Grayson’s eyes widen, instead of responding, he pulls you down for another searing kiss. Tongue sliding against yours, savoring the soft gasps that escape. He groans when you suck his lip into your mouth, softly biting him. His hands wander down your body, squeezing your ass, sliding down the backs of your thighs, guiding your knees apart until you’re straddling him. You feel the rumble of another groan against your mouth when he realises you aren’t wearing panties and immediately grinds your soaked core against him.

 “Awe sweetheart, did hearing my dream make you all needy? You gonna let me fix that?” 

You nuzzle his neck, humming your assent and trailing open mouthed kisses along his jaw. He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, ruffling his light hair. You let yourself stare and trace the familiar lines on his body. Grayson Hawthorne. Your Gray. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to him. Though you memorised every inch of him, the curve of his shoulders and feel of his flushed skin against you, your sleep-addled brain needs to make sure he’s real. 

  “Now that you have me you can’t decide what you want.”Grayson gently lifts your chin with his finger, “How about you sit on my face, Dove? I need to feel you gushing all over me, taste you for real. Please.”

Your mouth collides with his, pushing him down on the mattress, hungerly silencing whatever filthy words were about to follow. He could make you come by his words alone. Pulling away and smirking at his lust blown eyes, you shuffle up his body, resting your hands on the headboard. Impatiently, Grayson hooks his arms around your thighs, tugging you down to him. Moaning at how tightly he presses you against his face, tongue slowly moving against your folds. Gray’s groans send sparks up your spine, arousal pooling against his mouth. He circles your clit with his tongue, the lightest touch making you writhe against his hold, it’s somehow too much and not enough. Grayson has an iron grip on your thighs, firmly keeping me seated when he seals his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. 

“Grayson,” you wail, nearly doubling over, your hands tangled in his hair. Tears pricking at your eyes at the tightening in your abdomen, moans falling from your lips. His name catches in your throat, white overtaking your vision. Grayson’s tongue teases your entrance, thumbs stroking your oversensitive bundle of nerves, as you fall apart above him.

“Taste better than you did in my dream, Dove,” Grayson murmurs against you. 

One isn’t enough for him. Grayson lazily drags his tongue along your slit, flicking your clit every time. You gasp, shuddering thighs clamping around his head. Vibrations from his groans send fire up your spine. Combined with his merciless tongue, you’re falling apart all over again, nearly going limp. Grayson manhandles your pleasure wracked body until you’re resting your head on his chest, unconsciously rubbing your overstimulated cunt against his bulge. 

“Fuck, I need you Gray,” you whine.

He chuckles at just how needy you’ve gotten, helping you clumsily take his pants off. Then he’s stretched above you, rubbing his cock through your folds. You watch as his leaking cockhead slides through your arousal, bumping your clit each time. 

Grayson pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at him, “you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I shove my cock into you.”

His eyes nearly black with lust hold yours as he pushes into you, groaning loudly, “fuck I missed this pussy.” 

Grayson rests his forehead against yours, grinding his hips slowly against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, whining and pulling him tighter against you. Grayson continues the torturously slow rolling, barely pulling out before hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over. He bites and sucks along your neck leaving deep purple marks, pulling more broken moans from you. Grayson groans when your nails dig into his back, shallow scratches decorating his shoulder blades. 

“Love being inside you,” he pants into your ear, “never wanna leave.” 

You let out a long wail when his hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“That’s it, Dove. One more.” he punctuates his words with several hard thrusts, punching the air from your lungs. 

“Grayson,” your words breathy, “Grayson, ff-fuck Grayson please. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

White overtakes your vision once more as you come, scream caught in your throat, clenching hard around Grayson’s dick. Grayson bites your shoulder, silencing the moans of his own release. He continues rutting into you, whining. He rolls to his back, pulling you with him to rest on his chest, fingers trailing down your spine. You let out a small yawn, fatigue creeping back in. 

“Rest up, Dove,” Grayson whispers, “I’m not letting you leave this bed come morning.”

[cherrys-writings]

Hello! I’m sorry if this is irritating but I was just wondering if you had any Grayson x reader fics coming up

Yes! Setting a deadline for myself...by end of week

[cherrys-writings]

What kind of rock do I live under that I find out every reveal for TIG universe from Tumblr days after it happened 😅

hello, what is the 'games untold'??

Hi, so JLB dropped a clue regarding the last card which is the surprise for Wednesday. She said some people kind of guessed it and that if we looked online, we might find another clue. People found a book called Duel Amongst with an anagram version of JLB’s name. It was labelled TIG 5. There was also another number code that translated to “Love is power”. Then, I found people putting the summary of the book in the Insta comments which was more than the initial stuff most people found. I saw people looking at Penguin Books UK and so when I went on the website, I found the summary and a little later after that, the new cover. It seems that it will be a collection of short stories with our fave couples and the brothers as well. There are several. Hope that explains it well enough.

[cherrys-writings]

I accidentally submitted one of my fics in place of an assignment for class! I think my professor read the whole thing 😭😭😭😭😭