#the inheritance games fanfic

[cherryschaos]

Getting inspiration for the absolute nastiest Grayson Hawthorne x reader while at work is the worst

[allofmytoxicity]

Room Service

a/n: little sad moment in fic four for grayson.

grayson hawthorne x fem!reader

Summary: Grayson had worked for years to help you bury the things that hurt you, so what happens when your parents revive them for you?

Word Count: 1.8k

TW: Depression, addictions, relapse of alcohol, suicidal thoughts, mental breakdown? Just a lot of mental health issues so I would just imply that if you've had any issues with mental health, please read with caution. If you do need help, or are currently seeking help with your mental health though, here is a list of helplines compiled by Mind - a charity that try to help people suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts.

Knocking on your hotel door, roses in hand, Grayson had no idea what to expect. All he knew was that you needed him.

You two had originally meant to be going to some sort of charity gala in New York - something that Alicia had organised for the good of the Hawthorne reputation, but none of you wanted to go to.

Those plans had changed though, when you had called him from the hotel you had been staying in, sounding slightly tipsy - which wasn't a great sign as you were a recovering alcoholic - muttering about how you'd messed up. That you'd still come to the gala, but that you'd probably be late.

That, of course, sent Grayson into a spiral, only to be calmed down by Jameson though when he'd spotted his brother panicking in a corner, staring at his darkened phone screen.

He didn't know what had gotten you into such a state though, that you'd had to call him and apologise for something. That he didn't know. But it worried him, eating at him. Eating at him until he could see your face, clear as day in front of him, no matter what state you'd be in.

As long as you opened the damned door to the hotel room.

The only reason you two were staying in different hotels was because you'd said that you wanted to give Grayson some space; make him feel that if he needed to work in the middle of the night, he wasn't disturbing you in the slightest.

Knocking once again, getting gradually more anxious by the second, Grayson finally heard signs of life from the other side of the door from you before the door opened a few moments later.

The you he saw on the other side of the door though wasn't the same. Your eyes looked sunken, cheeks hollow, and you were somehow skinnier even though Grayson had seen you looking perfectly healthy at breakfast that morning.

Your eyes were also red and puffy, like you'd been crying for hours on end, not once giving your tear ducts a break from work.

It made Grayson's heart break.

"Gray..." You said, your voice small as you rubbed your eyes. You had never wanted to worry him with that phone call earlier, but when you heard the knock on the door you new that it was Grayson standing there. Never intruding, waiting till you opened up.

But it was in that moment there though, that you knew you needed to open up to him, despite what you two had agreed upon at the start of your relationship - only tell each other what was necessary.

In that moment, you needed to tell him everything.

"Darling what happened?" Grayson happened, both his eyes and voice quiet as they looked you over in the doorway.

"Why don't you come in." You say, walking back from where you were standing, allowing Grayson access to a sight that broke him heart.

Your hotel room was a mess; bottles of various alcoholic substances strewn everywhere along with pill bottles from different anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds you took just to help you through life.

"I'm sorry..." You say for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

"What do you mean, love?" Grayson says, turning to face you, his eyes obviously brimming with tears as he takes in the extent of what you'd gone through in the short amount of time he'd not seen you.

"I relapsed. And I've probably busted my bank account. I thought about, and nearly tried to end it all. I don't know what else I'm sorry for, but I'm sorry for everything." You say, your eyes also starting to sting with rising tears as you looked in Grayson's heartbroken eyes.

"What happened? Why didn't you call me earlier?" Grayson says, placing the roses on a side table just by the hotel room door and stepping towards you. "Why did you hide the fact you relapsed in the phone call, love?"

"I thought I'd kill myself a couple minutes later, but I chickened out of that one though, didn't I?" You whisper, ignoring the first two questions and deciding to start looking anywhere else but Grayson as you picked at the skin around your fingernails.

"Why though?" Grayson poked once again, taking another couple of steps forward, finally getting within reaching distance of you.

"My... my parents called me after we had breakfast. It was an unknown number so I couldn't block it. They've officially disowned me as of this morning, rather than just kicking me out." You admit, letting a couple of tears slip as Grayson takes your hands in his, bringing them between the two of you and letting out a small, 'oh love'.

Grayson knew about the situation with your parents and had for years because of how you'd met - a summer job working with Alicia at McNamara, Ortega and Jones when you were both 15.

You'd both become fast friends and stayed in touch even when the summer had ended and you'd gone to separate schools.

When your parents had kicked you out less than a year later though, Grayson was the first person you'd called and he'd managed to convince Tobias Hawthorne to let you stay with them. As well as that, Grayson managed to convince him to enrol you into Country Heights and convince Alicia to get you an internship at the law firm.

It was all working out perfectly, until he found out about your drinking problem 6 months down the line. At 16, nearly 17, you had a drinking problem.

Yes, it was underage, but considering his own mother's attitudes towards alcohol, all of the Hawthorne brothers were quite relaxed on drinking, no one passing a second glance when they saw one of them underage drinking.

When Grayson brought it up with you, you had just brushed him off originally. Neither of you acted as if it was a big deal; that was until Grayson caught you again. The difference was though, was that you were completely smashed.

He'd confronted you on the topic once and for all the next morning and you'd told him everything as soon as the questions slipped past his lips.

You told him how you'd been drinking since about a week after you'd been kicked out, constantly getting calls from your parents about how you were worthless. It was a wonder that your liver was still alive after the amount of drinking you'd done in a mere 6 months.

So, Grayson over 5 years had managed to get you clean and on meds, burying everything that had hurt you over the years. Anti-depressants and anxiety meds for the episodes and panic attacks. AA meetings for when your parents tried to contact you. He'd worked to make sure you were clean and on the straight, somehow charming you into being his girlfriend in the process.

By the looks of today though, you had had no idea what to do. No AA meetings nearby and Grayson was working. You had nothing you needed to do considering you were out of state and taking holiday leave from McNamara, Ortega and Jones for this trip.

Finally looking up at him, you saw Grayson looking down at you, eyes filled with a form of heartbreak you'd only ever seen once or twice in your life.

After a few moments of standing there, softly letting tears roll down your cheeks, Grayson wiped your eyes and let go of your hands and walking away from you.

"What are you doing?" You ask him, walking towards where Grayson was standing in the middle of the destroyed room.

"I'm looking around the room." Grayson says, turning around to face you once again. "Then, I'm going to help you clean this up, get you into some fresh pyjamas. I'll call Xander as well and get him to watch you for a while, while I go and get my stuff and then stay here with you for the rest of tonight."

"What...?" You ask Grayson as he finishes, completely stunned at what he'd just told you.

"We're not going to the gala tonight. I'm going to help you feel better and we're going to do just what you want for the rest of the trip." Grayson says, smiling softly for a moment before he starts to work, picking up bottles, washing them out before placing them in the bin, working around you as you watch on.

You eventually move to help Grayson, picking up a bottle of cider that you'd downed earlier that day and washing it out at the bathroom sink before placing it in the nearest bin.

The next thing you move to do is clean up your meds from the bathroom counter, but Grayson is already on it, sad smile in tow as he sees the remains of the state you had been in.

Grayson does leave out a couple of things though when cleaning up your meds - a couple of pills. Yes, it was only a couple, but with how meticulous Grayson was with everything, you wondered how on earth he could've missed three tiny pills.

"Gray, you forgot-" You started saying, only to be cut off by your boyfriend himself.

"I didn't forget to clean up these pills. Have you taken your meds today?" Grayson inquires, clicking the lid of one of your med bottles closed as he placed it back in your washbag.

That question struck you with a thought - had you actually taken your relevant pills today? Which when you looked back on the day, no, you hadn't.

Shaking your head no, Grayson slid the pills along to you and moved to grab your water bottle from your bedside table, passing it to you so you could take them.

"Now, while you take those, I'm going to go and call Xander and get him to come here and watch you while I go and get my stuff from my room and then we'll order room service. How does that sound?" Grayson asks, removing his phone from his pocket and flicking away a couple of notifications from it as he talks.

You nod, moving your hand to grab the pills as Grayson smiles, unlocking his phone fully now to where, where he does move to dial Xander's number. As he moves the phone, you catch a glimpse of a picture of the two of you as his 'in call' background.

And so, as the night went on, it went exactly as Grayson had planned, ending with the two of you, sat in bed, rewatching 'Friends' again. It was perfect for the both of you, with Grayson whispering sweet nothings in your ear when it got quieter parts of the episodes or in between them as well.

Neither of you bothered to look at the raging texts from everyone as to why the two of you weren't at the gala. You weren't attending, so what was it in the business to know?

Xander's messages though, were of course different, as he knew why you two weren't coming, but couldn't be arsed telling anyone. His messages were a running commentary of the night. All the gossip and scandal wrapped up in about a hundred messages from the youngest of the Hawthorne's.

Now that, you two did look at.

a/n: in the order of me actually writing these fics, I've finished 2 in one day! WOO! anyways, onto fic 5!

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

[rosietrace]

⟨ The Inheritance Games ⟩ | I wouldn't marry me, either.”

CHAPTER 2 — The Old Man's Will

The Inheritance Games belongs to Jennifer Lynn Barnes

SYNOPSIS — What if things had been different, when Avery inherited the old man's fortune? What if Alisa did some puzzle solving of her own, and what if Nash started to feel something for Alisa he thought he'd never feel in a long time?

MAIN TAGS — Canon divergence, Exes to lovers, slowburn, angst with happy ending, suggestive-ish, oc insert, WHAT-IF, mention of character death (Emily Laughlin mention)

Author's note: This fic has officially been posted on AO3! Tumblr gets earlier access to chapters bc I love y'all sm 🩷🩷 (although I did make the minor mistake of posting this chapter and the one after it on AO3 before I did here 💀)

| [ The Following is a fanfiction that drifts away from the original source material. If you aren't interested in anything relating to Alisa Ortega, Nash Hawthorne, or anything about The Inheritance Games in general, this fic probably isn't for you. ] |

Nash Hawthorne had his qualms about his family, about the old man and where he stood in the moral spectrum; but he couldn't bring himself to truly hate Hawthorne House.

It was where he grew up. With a grandfather richer than kings and a mother who grew bored of playing parent shortly after his birth.

He made a deliberate effort in arriving at the House before Alisa; better for Lee-Lee’s sake than my own, he justified to himself.

He saw Xander first, furrowing his eyebrows at the disheveled mess that was his youngest brother's appearance. Rumpled suit, open jacket, and a tie around his neck that wasn't tied.

Go figure.

Nash took his sweet time wandering around Hawthorne House. He'd have known by now if the Will was gonna be read, and whether his brothers were already in the Great Room by now.

Xander’s wandering around with one eyebrow, Jameson's one bad idea away from drinking to death. And Grayson…

Nash shook his head. Gray's still not doin’ too well.

On his way to the Great Room, he caught wind of a conversation. His mother, Skye, speaking with Grayson, presumably with a third party in tow.

“My sister ‘has words’ with people,” Nash heard Skye comment, “I have conversations. Lovely conversations. Quite frankly, that's how I ended up with four sons. Wonderful, intimate conversations with four fascinating men…”

“I will pay you to stop right there,” Grayson said, his voice mixed with slight aggravation.

Nash snorted. ‘Wonderful’, huh?

He made his way to the Great Room, thinking to himself with a low frown, If those conversations were so wonderful, why hadn't any of ‘em stayed?

⊱───────────────⊰

Nash sat beside Xander while they waited for the Will to be read. Though, based on the expression on the eldest brother's face, he — more or less — wanted everything over with.

No amount of nostalgia for Hawthorne House, for the old man could take back all the bad memories that came with it. All the memories that haunted Nash and his brothers like a family of bothersome ghosts.

Their great-grandmother, Nan, joined the fray. Nash and Xander stood, and even though the former offered the ancient woman his arm, she took the latter's instead. Xander led Nan straight to a blue-haired goth and a girl with dark hair.

Nash didn't mind, only shrugging his shoulders and sitting back down on his chair, leaning back slightly. From the corner of his eye, he and Alisa's eyes met.

He smiled slightly, tipping his hat to her. Her head turned away, staring straight ahead.

Everything probably would have proceeded smoothly, from there. The Will was ready to be read, but by Nash's count, only three — him included — Hawthorne brothers were present.

“Where'd Jamie go?” Nash asked, his head turning to look at Grayson.

Grayson sighed. “God knows where he went… the only thing I could ask of him at this point is for him to turn up before the Will reading.”

The girl he caught a glance at earlier, however, had other plans. He got a slightly better look at her now; Her hair was dark, an ashy brown.

Constantine Calligaris — Nash's Aunt Zara's second husband — stopped her before she could leave the room. “Where are you going? We're about to start.”

The girl wrenched her arm out of his grasp, her voice like steel as she replied, “I was told there are four Hawthorne grandsons. By my count, you're still down on one.”

As she left, Nash couldn't quite suppress the snort that left him. “Kid's got nerve,” he mumbled, smirking to himself.

⊱───────────────⊰

“Now that everyone is here,” Mr. Ortega said, “let's get started.”

McNamara, Ortega, and Jones stood in triangle formation. Alisa's father stood front and center, his colleagues stood to either side.

‘Takes three lawyers to read the old man's Will, Nash angled his head to the side, not knowing whether he should find it questionable or amusing.

“You are here,” Mr. Ortega began, projecting his voice to the room at large, “to hear the last will and testament of Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne. Per Mr. Hawthorne's instructions, my colleagues will now distribute letters he has left for each of you.”

“You may open these letters when the reading is concluded.”

One by one, the other men from Oren's security detail made the rounds of the room, handing out envelopes one by one.

As stipulated by his grandfather, it was required that a set of individuals were required to be physically present for the Will reading; Nash, his brothers, their mother, their aunt, and apparently, Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs of New Castle, Connecticut.

The kid, who from the looks of it looked closest to Xander's age, felt about as conspicuous as though she'd looked down and discovered she wasn't wearing clothes. Probably felt anxious, too.

“I, Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne, being of sound body and mind, decree that my worldly possessions, including all monetary and physical assets, be disposed of as follows.”

Mr and Mrs. Laughlin were bequeathed a sum of a hundred thousand dollars apiece; with life long, rent-free tenancy granted in Wayback Cottage— located in the western border of the estate.

Oren was left the contents of the old man's toolbox and a sum of three hundred thousand dollars. Nash's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the toolbox, but didn't internally question it further.

It wasn't his business to play whatever games old man's left behind, now.

Nan was given an annuity of one hundred thousand dollars a year, a trust for medical expenses as set forth in the appendix; and any jewelry that belonged to Nash's grandmother, Alice O'Day Hawthorne, would pass to her.

“Don't you go getting ideas,” Nan ordered the room at large with a quiet harrumph, “I'm going to outlive you all.”

That cracked a smile on Nash's face, as well as Mr. Ortega's. Alisa too, but it was only for a split second. Then it was almost like she never smiled at all.

But then came the section that brought in Skye and Zara. And Mr. Ortega's smile — Lee-Lee's smile — had long since dropped.

For Skye, she'd been given the old man's compass, may she always know true north. For Zara, she'd been given his wedding ring— may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother, Nash's grandfather had written.

That was when the Hawthorne sisters began their verbal brawl. Brief, but hard-hitting.

About how the old man never was the same after Nash's uncle Toby died— or, to Skye, had potentially disappeared.

It was a little before Grayson was born, when Toby died. Nash couldn't have been above five when it happened, too young to understand how hard it was for Zara and Skye to come to terms with the undeniable fact that their little brother wasn't there anymore.

“You got in his head, didn't you, Skye? Batted your eyelashes and convinced him to bypass us and leave everything to your–”

“Sons.” Skye's voice was crisp, dripping in the charisma that masked who Nash remembered her as. “The word you're looking for is sons.”

With his thick Texan accent, thicker than anyone else's in the room, Nash briefly chimed in to say: “The word she's looking for is bastards.”

A brief, excruciating pause later, he added, “Not like we haven't heard it before.”

Zara's voice seemed to catch in her throat. “If I’d had a son…”

“But you didn't.” It felt hurtful for Skye to cross a line like that. To know the sensitivity Zara had about that fact and use it against her. “Did you, Zara?”

“Enough.” Constantine Calligaris stepped in, trying to keep the sisters’ argument at bay. “We will sort this out.”

Before the verbal sword match could escalate, Mr. Ortega intervened. To the best of his lawyerly abilities, he explained to the Hawthorne sisters that their father's will was utterly unbreakable; with significant disincentives to anyone feeling tempted to challenge it.

“Now, if I may continue…” Alisa's father looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”

Bitter, Zara muttered. “Everything.”

Mr. Ortega spoke over her.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”

From the corner of his eye, Nash saw Alisa's mouth hang open in shock. “What?” It took her less than a second to process what she just heard. “I mean… what?”

“The hell,” Nash said to her pleasantly. “The phrase you're looking for, darlin’, is what the hell.”

The old man hadn't given them everything, huh? With the size of his fortune, Nash and his brothers were given a pittance. Combined, he'd given them a million dollars. Not nearly as close to what his aunt and mother had hoped.

“What is going on here?” Grayson asked, each word deadly and precise, his silver eyes boring into every individual in the room; like an answer would be forced out of them, any of them, if he just stared long and hard enough.

“Please, everyone,” Mr. Ortega held up a hand, trying to disperse the sudden commotion. “Allow me to finish.”

And one by one, all the other occupants of the room slowly turned to stare at the mystery girl. Avery Kylie Grambs, right as Mr. Ortega finished the reading.

“The remainder of my estate, including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”

TAGLIST

None so far. . .

[morganwrites12672]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

Summary:(request) a scenario with grayson hawthorne x reader, gray’s jealous? maybe the reader was hanging out with this guy friend of hers at one of their extravagant galas? thank you sm!

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/n was simply speaking with an old friend of hers, Scott. The two had gone to High School together, and hadn't seen each other since they both graduated last year. She was catching up with him, finding out about where life had taken him.

It was an innocent conversation. The two had been very good friends during their school years together, and both were in relationships. There was no chance of anything romantic ever happening between the two. Ever.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n could see her boyfriend. Grayson had his hand tightly gripping a champagne glass. She could see that based on the expression on his face, he didn't look very happy.

Y/n assumed he was misreading the situation. She was just friends with Scott. Nothing more. She sighed.

She made her way over to were Grayson was standing. It didn't take an expert to see how sour his mood was. She placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"Who was that?" Grayson asked, his tone sharp.

"A guy I went to high school with. He was telling me about his girlfriend." Y/n said.

Grayson seemed to become less tense at her words. She still frowned. Did he not trust her?

Grayson set his champagne down on a table. He looked at her. His hand softly touched her chin as he tilted her head upwards.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft. "I trust you, I don't know why I got so jealous." He softly kissed her lips before pulling away.

"It's okay. It's not like you went over there and punched the guy." Y/n said with a small laugh. Grayson chucked softly in response.

Grayson smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her back to his chest, and rested his head on top of hers. He smiled as felt the warmth of her back pressing against him. He would hold her like forever if he could.

He wasn't thinking about what the people would say about his display of public affection. People knew they were dating, but with how strict the stuck up, rich, assholes who attended these events were, Grayson has always been careful. In that moment, however, he didn't care.

[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.

[thestarsandskyaboveus]

the inheritance games (masterlist).

avery kylie grambs

maxine liu

jameson winchester hawthorne

grayson davenport hawthorne

xander blackwood hawthorne

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve, estranged from his parents, is set to inherit a fortune from the equally estranged grandfather he knows nothing about.

This will not only set him up for life, but will go a long way to helping the family he found, and he's ecstatic that he can finally put some of his family's enormous wealth to good use and pissing off his parents while doing it.)

Problem?

The guy was a huge fan of games, puzzles and riddles. The reading of his will isn't one, it's the introduction to one last game he requires Steve to play to inherit, elsewise the fortune goes somewhere undisclosed.

Enter: world champion Logic & Puzzle Master Eddie Munson, bored out of his fucking mind (and utterly failing at writing a mystery-horror novel.)

Dustin, a superfan of Eddie's, reaches out to him begging for help (and agreeing to give him reward money if he does so, a little fact he did not tell Steve) and Eddie agrees, thinking this is going to be a cake walk.

It isn't.

See, turns out, Steve's grandpa is actually Eddie's favorite mystery and tabletop game writer, and a world-class puzzle maker in his own right.

Eddie is losing his mind living out a dream come true, while Steve is rolling his eyes behind him the whole way.

(The twist is that while the inheritance was for Steve, the game was for Eddie, whom Steve's Gramps was well aware of, and the old sot managed to manipulate things so that no matter what route Steve and Co. went, Eddie would eventually get pulled into the game.

He wasn't expecting Eddie and Steve to fall in love along the way but had he watched the entire thing play out live, he would have been delighted by the surprise.)

As a bonus Robin, Nancy and Chrissy get pulled in to a side plot involving them Nancy Drewing a local true crime mystery involving Steve's grandpa's massive fucking house.

[m0nnypie]

I'VE GOT MY EYES ON YOU

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Summary: Just the pov of Finnick loving you over the years, and remembering everything about you

Warnings: cute but with a bit of angst on Finn's part. Other than that, all happiness and love.

a/n: Well, excuse any spelling mistakes, English isn't my first language. And I tried my best to make it as much like Finnick as I could, but this is my first fic of his lol. Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy <3

Words: 1.8k

Finnick remembers the first time he saw you. He was eight and you were only six. Your father had gone to see his for some reason Finnick can't remember — not least because he hadn't been paying attention to them. What he does remember is you glaring at him. It made him laugh, which only deepened your frown.

He imagines it was because you didn't like him very much at the time. He didn’t blame you. With your older brother constantly saying that no boy was any good, it was hard to be friends with anyone he was always badmouthing. Finnick didn’t blame your brother either — in a world like theirs, any protection, even unnecessary, was better than none. Still, nothing changed how cute and funny he had found you at the time. After that day, you never met in person again.

The time he considers the second was when his name was called at the reaping. He remembers your eyes glued to him; you were twelve, and he was fourteen. He could feel your pity seeping through his skin. He didn’t blame you — after all, like it or not, it was still the Hunger Games. But knowing that you were looking at him made it almost funny to him, and it was with that thought in mind that he entered the arena.

The third time was when he returned home victorious. Of course, there were lots of people congratulating him — his relieved family and everyone else — but the only thing he saw was you, walking toward him. He didn't think it was of his own volition, considering you was with your father and brother, but as soon as you approached, you wore the best, most beautiful smile he had ever seen you give. And for the first time in years, you spoke to him.

"Congratulations on winning, Finnick. I'm glad you're back... well, we're glad."

He could see the smile on your father’s face, though he couldn’t say the same for your brother. Not that he minded. So he just smiled back at you — not the smile he reserved for the Capitol, but a real smile.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you too."

He saw you get embarrassed, and he wanted to laugh at that. But he wouldn’t — not in front of your father. Not yet.

For the rest of the day, he listened to his father talk about how much your father complained about you, because you wouldn't stop talking about Finnick. His father laughed as he ruffled his hair affectionately. And it’s not like Finnick was going to complain.

Everyone said it was normal for girls to have a little crush on boys who won at something — at least, that’s what the people he knew told him. Maybe that’s why, two months later, it was as if Finnick no longer existed to you. You were back in your own world, with your friends, without him. Not that it bothered him — not really.

The next time he really saw you, you were sixteen, and he was eighteen. He was a mentor now, and when your name was called at the reaping, he could see on your face how much you hated it. Most people didn't care or thought that a dead kid from District 4 wouldn't make much difference, since you wasn’t a Career or someone important. Finnick hated it — but he would never say so.

He also remembers how, for whatever reason, you didn't put any effort into your training. He thought it was because of what everyone thought of you as a tribute, or maybe you just didn't give a damn about dying in the arena. He didn't admit it at the time, but he had been terrified that you wouldn't make it out of the arena alive. He also remembers how surprised everyone was by your training score — including him. It was a ten. He remembers it clearly, and you didn't seem to mind.

On the day of the Games, all you did was say goodbye to your stylists. You didn't look in anyone else's direction, but he didn't blame you. If you were going to become one of the last survivors, there would come a point when you would have to kill someone. It wasn't something everyone wanted to face.

He remembers seeing you in the arena — you did well. For the first few days, you kept to yourself, hiding and trying to survive. But at some point — he can't say exactly when — things changed. Perhaps it was when the male tribute from your district was killed, or when you saw a pair of boys, just twelve years old, die.

It wasn't a change that anyone on Capitol had noticed. But Finnick knew you well enough to say that the deaths of people you barely knew had affected you. He still remembers when one of the tributes from District 4 was a twelve-year-old boy - you didn't know him, but you still went to say goodbye. You were only fourteen.

And at that very moment, you had just thrown an axe into the head of the boy from District 3 who had killed the twelve-year-olds. You hadn't thought — you had just acted. Obviously, this had a positive consequence for you in the Capitol's eyes, because a while later, you were sent food that would last for about four days.

He remembers the exact moment you won. He wanted to say he was relieved, but that wouldn't be fair to you. Until you left for District 4, you didn't say a single word to him. Perhaps because no one was looking at you with such high expectations anymore, you felt confident enough to speak.

"Do you regret killing those people to survive?"

"No."

He had to be honest; he couldn't lie. But after that, he didn't hear your voice again for the rest of the journey — you didn't even look at him. Still, when you arrived in District 4, you acted as if you were fine, as if you didn’t care.

He also remembers when you became friends. It was a good thing — a big step, considering that before, you wouldn’t even look him in the face. Now he understood why. Even though it hadn't seemed like it before, you had lots of friends. You were funny, entertaining, and you cooked extremely well. Finnick admitted that he envied your food — and he couldn’t lie about that.

He obviously remembers the following year, when the two of you were mentors. You were only seventeen, but you didn't seem bothered about directing two people toward a possible death. He saw how hard you worked not to get attached to either of the tributes, because if they didn't come back, you wouldn't feel guilty. But when Annie returned, alive and safe, he also saw you break down. You hugged her as if she were going to disappear. And he didn’t blame you for that either. Over the next year, no one ever brought up the subject of Annie becoming a mentor.

When you were nineteen, things went to another level. Once ignored, now he was kissed when no one was watching — well, that was a breakthrough. He remembers every kiss, every smile. He also remembers when you woke him up at dawn to help Annie. He didn't mind; he was spending time with you and helping a friend.

While he was making tea, if he looked over his shoulder, he could see you hugging her, whispering what sounded like a lullaby — the kind you sing to babies when they can't stop crying. He could see how much you loved and cared for Annie, and that always made him fall in love with you a little more, even if he didn’t know it at the time.

He certainly remembers the time he told you he loved you. You had just turned twenty-one. You said it back. And you held each other for the rest of the night.

He also remembers the 74th Hunger Games. He saw your relief when those two young people, madly in love — though he didn't believe in that farce — survived together. You didn’t know them, but you were obviously happy for them.

He also — sadly — remembers the Quarter Quell. When his name was called, he had imagined it would happen. But that day, once again, he saw you. Annie had been called, and before Mags could volunteer, you did. He saw you hugging Annie, comforting her as he heard her whisper "sorry," but you just smiled at her. And as you hugged, he heard you say:

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't let that happen to her again."

"I know..."

He didn’t know. No — actually, he did. He just didn’t want to admit it, because admitting it meant facing the reality that this year, he’d be going into the arena with you. And he didn’t even want to think about that.

In the arena, he did everything he could to protect you, Katniss, and Peeta. He really wanted the plan to work. He believed that you would be fine if they separated. But when he woke up, you weren’t there with him. You were in the Capitol with the others. For the first time in years, he wished he had died in that arena when he was fourteen.

He felt it the moment he got you back — you weren’t really there. He spoke to you, but you didn’t listen. And if he tried to touch you, he saw you despair, screaming as if he had hurt you. And he felt that way — he felt guilty for letting the Capitol lay even a single finger on you. They told him to take it easy. He wanted to tell everyone to fuck off, but when he looked at you, he knew they were right.

At that very moment, he was keeping you company, obviously giving you space — he didn’t want you to get hurt. But when he heard you calling him, he admitted he was desperate; you hadn’t even looked him in the face for days. So probably, if you had asked him to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, he would have — even if he didn’t need to. But he held back.

"Finnick?"

"Yes, dear? Do you need anything?"

"I'm sorry..." It came out as a whisper.

"Hey, hey, what are you apologizing for? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I..." You didn’t manage to finish before tears welled up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, please don’t cry..." He tried his best to comfort you without having to touch you. But before he could decide what to do, you hugged him — a little hesitantly, but you hugged him. And at that moment, he collapsed. He shouldn’t have cried — not when you were in such a fragile moment — but he couldn’t help it.

For a moment in his life, he had thought he had lost you, that he would never see you again. And at that moment, he decided he would never let go of you — not with the possibility of losing you again. He would never let that happen. He would always see you now.

[inmyheaddd]

when you're close to me - grayson hawthorne x reader

summary: trying to get grayson hawthorne to have a reset day— lots of laughs... lots of kisses... not much of the reset day actually taking place... wc: 1.2k

grayson stood in front of you, hands resting on your waist as you sat on top of the sink counter and held his chin with one hand, the other carefully applying a facemark on his forehead with a brush. you focused on your task, determined to make it look perfect.

you had ordered him to close his eyes so you could put the mask on, even though he didn’t need to— not in any sense that was practical— but it was simply because his gaze was making you far too flustered to focus on the task at hand. the fact that he was this close only made it more difficult. 

“i don’t see why this is necessary,” grayson mumbled, his eyes still shut as you let go of his chin to hold his hair back.

“because,” you reasoned with a hum in your voice, “it just is.” you paused for a moment, “this is how reset days work. you’ve been so caught up in work, so let me just… do this for you.” you mumbled, evening out the shape of the grey mask on his forehead.

“i don’t need a reset day,” he countered calmly, “i’m fine.”

you almost let out a snort. “you most definitely do need a reset day.” 

grayson let out a slow exhale. “i’ve handled the past 20 years of my life without one. but, thank you for your consideration.”

you rolled your eyes affectionately, though he couldnt even see you. 

“thank you for your consideration,” you mumbled under your breath in mockery of his words. you huffed, “i’m going to kill you.” you were still muttering to yourself, to which you heard him laugh and open his eyes at. 

grayson tilted his head to the side, raising one of his brows up at you before he asked, “i’m sorry?”

“you heard me,” you responded, lowering your voice to add to the effect, “i know people…” you were happy to see his eyes again and see how they glittered with humour in this moment, but you couldn’t help but chide him for disrupting your ever-so-important endeavour of applying his facemask. “and, stop moving.” you continued as you pressed a thumb under his jaw, turning his face toward you again.

grayson ignored your ominous and extremely serious threat and closed his eyes again with the barest hint of a smile on his face. 

he stilled for a long moment, and you were getting along quite nicely with the mask, and you were even about to move to the rest of his face. that was until he furrowed his brows again. “may i just ask, what is in this?”

your hand dropped down to your sides with a huff. 

“oh my god,” you shut him up with a laugh as you shut your eyes for a quick moment, “grayson!”

grayson opened his eyes. the corners of his lips flickered up into a smile. 

for a moment, you stayed looking at eachother, feeling your own lips twitch as you held back a smile. it instantly became impossible for the both of you to hold back your laughter anymore. 

usually, you thought perfection was impossible. but it was here, it was effortless with grayson—his head tilted back slightly, grey eyes crinkled, and his usual composure slipping for just a second — beaming with that smile of his that was rare to everyone but you. you wanted to simply kiss his face all over until you were both sick of it. 

clearly, he must’ve been thinking the same thing, as he looked at you with affection swirling behind those icy grey eyes of his. 

a laugh escaped him while he shook his head amusedly, with one of his hands that were previously on your waist moved to cup your cheek, “i deeply apologise, sweetheart.” he murmured lowly, his lips sliding into a coy smile. “i understand your face mask duties hold a lot of importance.”

you yourself were still smiling, “oh shut up, you.” you muttered back, your faces inches apart.  

his gaze flickered to your lips right before you wordlessly leaned in to a kiss. 

at first, you giggled against his lips. that was before melting into the kiss with a lingering smile between you, 

you hopped down from the counter, and wrapped your arms around his neck as his other hand moved to your face. the gentleness of his touch and the kiss sent a swarm of butterflies right to your stomach. 

you felt light on your toes as his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, and you could still feel the slight smile on his lips against you. 

his fingers curled at your waist, not pulling you closer, just resting there, like he liked the feeling of you this close.

and you—god, you could barely think. you just felt. the warmth of his touch, the soft pressure of his lips, the slight tilt of his head as he kept leaning in, deepening the kiss until—

you shrieked. 

you felt something cool, slightly tacky on your forehead…

it was near comical, the way grayson’s brows furrowed so quickly when you pulled back, and just as quickly smoothed over when he saw the laugh on your face.

he was still confused, clearly, but the smile you held soothed his worries. 

he tilted his head, trying to understand. “love,” he searched your eyes fore any hint of explanation, unable to hold back a little smile because of your own laughter. “what’s the matter?”

you covered your mouth, dissolving into a giggling mess. "your forehead," you choked out, wiping your own forehead that was touching his with the back of your hand. “it’s.. it’s wet.”

his expression blanked, a single brow raising in that oh so grayson way of his. and then, realization dawned.

the face mask.

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he ran a hand down his face. “that’s enough of this," he muttered, moving past you and turning on the sink.

you were a laughing mess, and you stumbled backwards, leaning against the back wall. you watched him roll his sleeves up and lean over the sink while he washed his face haphazardly— and dried it just as quickly. 

“grayson!” you managed to get out with your little laughs. “why did you wash it off?,” you were the one complaining now, though it was all jokes. you fake pouted, “that was expensive.”

he turned back, and his expression was half amused and half exasperated.

he ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you before he started walking to you. “i washed it off,” he started lowly as he got to you in two strides, “so i’d be able to do this.”

you fought back a smile, and kept your eyes on him as he got to you.  those same butterflies erupted in your stomach tenfold when his hands went to your waist, pulling you into him before his lips pressed into yours. 

just moments before, you were smiling because of laughter, but this time you were unable to stop the grin on your face because you simply felt so.. peaceful. fulfilled, even. you doubted you could ever get sick of being like this with him.

one hand moved to hold where your jaw met your neck, pulling you closer. 

no interruptions this time.

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

[7975348473]

Drunk On Fluff

——————————————————— Ship: Lyrason (Lyra x Grayson)

Timeline: Post- The Grandest Game. I would recommend reading, The Proposal before this fic— but it's not necessary (like, at all.) ——————————————————

GRAYSON

Grayson wasn't the type to stay up late if not necessary.

But today, he couldn't help it.

Lyra had gone on a "Girls-Night-Out", and specifically told Grayson she'd be back very, very late.

And, if Grayson were a normal boyfriend, he probably would have been content with that reassurance and went to sleep. Unfortunately, nothing about Grayson Davenport Hawthorne was exceptionally normal.

He checked his phone for possibly the millionth time, for any updates on where she was.

That’s when his phone went off, Avery.

Grayson picked up, “Avery?”

“Grayson! Hi, um— Lyra is—” Avery cut herself off with a sudden laugh.

“Sorry, Lyra wants to talk to you.” Avery managed in between giggles.

One of Grayson’s dignified brows raised in response.

“GrayyyYyYYy~~”

That was Lyra. One hundred percent drunk.

Oh lord. Grayson bit back a smile.

“Yes, sweetheart? Is everything alright?” He asked, imagining the drunk look Lyra probably had on at the moment.

“mmMmhmM. Yes. I misshsh you thoughhhh can u come ower?” She slurred.

A smile broke out on Grayson’s face despite himself.

“I’m on my way.”

—————————————————————

GRAYSON

Grayson stepped out of the car, his gaze fell upon the group of girls standing outside the bar.

Avery and Libby each had one hand wrapped around Lyra’s waist as they laughed at Lyra’s drunk demeanor.

Gigi was silent— that’s what alcohol did to her, the opposite effect of coffee— Savannah stood to the side, her cheeks slightly flushed as she sent glares to Max who seemed to be going on and on as per usual.

Something about the chaotic yet comfortable scene made Grayson’s heart warm up.

He took a photo of them and then walked over.

“Grayyyyyy!! My ash hole is here, lemme go.” She greeted Grayson before throwing commands at the other two girls.

Libby and Avery giggled, handing Lyra over to him.

Grayson nodded in thanks as Lyra climbed on to his back and he turned to move.

“Gray!” Avery yelled, grabbing his attention. He turned back.

“Your girlfriend is a fucking delight.” Avery said. Libby smiled in agreement.

Grayson’s gaze travelled to the head which was leaning on his shoulder, “I know.”

The two walked away from the chaos, moving slowly towards the car.

“No!!” Lyra yelled suddenly.

Grayson froze.

“I don’t wanna go in ze car.” She stated, though it came off more as a command.

Ze car? Oh she’s high alright.

“Alright then, what do you want to do?” He asked, trying to force the amusement out of his tone.

Lyra wiggled around a bit on his back, signifying she wanted to be let down. He let her.

“Let’s go on a wok.” Lyra yelled triumphantly as she managed to maintain her balance on her own… for two seconds.

Grayson’s hand wrapped around her waist as she began to tilt over again.

“Alright, sweetheart. Just for a little bit though.” He replied.

Suddenly, Lyra sent him a vivid glare. Grayson was slightly taken aback.

She mumbled something under her breathe.

“What was that, sweetheart?” He pried. Lyra groaned and gave him a soft nudge to his stomach.

“How do u do that?!” She screeched. Grayson blinked at her— obviously confused.

“Do what?”

“Thattttttt~” Lyra whined, she took both of her arms and waved them around in some sort of dramatic display. Her cheeks were tinged red and eyes were shut tightly.

She looked adorable. Grayson smiled.

"Mind specifying, sweetheart?"

"That. See. You did it again." Lyra's hand travelled to her chest, landing right on top of her heart.

Grayson watched as she brought both of her hands to her heart, putting on an overly-dramatic expression as she twirled around in circles over and over again.

He chuckled.

"Sweetheart-"

"ITS THAT WORD!!" She paused mid-spin to point at Grayson, though her aim was off completely.

"Why does my heart dance whenever you call me thatttt~" Lyra whined again, stomping her feet as she stumbled her way over to Grayson again.

At this, Grayson couldn't help but grin, "Oh? Your heart races?"

Lyra nodded.

"Every. Single. Time?" He pried.

Lyra looked up to him and nodded again, pouting slightly as she did. It was Grayson's heart's turn to race this time.

Fuck she's adorable.

"It's not fair. I mean- you call me that every day, so why am I still so flustered about it??" She complained, wrapping her arms around Grayson's abdomen.

"I don't see why that's a problem," Grayson paused, thinking if he should proceed, "sweetheart."

Lyra hit him playfully and Grayson let out a laugh.

They both "wok-ed" onwards, Grayson recorded as Lyra ranted about her life and randomly broke out into her favorite dance choreos.

Unexpectedly, Lyra paused and gasped.

"Gray, Gray! Oi! Listen here." Grayson, too, stopped and looked at her- trying hard to get the smile off his face.

"You know how we watched that drama the other day?" Lyra asked a little too fast. Grayson's eye twitched.

"You mean the cheesy and excessively romantic one? Yes, I do." Grayson replied.

Lyra clapped her hands together and did some sort of jumpy thing as her eyes landed on a huge grass field they had stumbled upon.

"Okay. So you know how the leads run towards each other and hug at the end??" Lyra's eyes were glowing now. Grayson felt any resentment he had held towards the drama previously fade away.

"Yeah."

"I want to do that." She finished, looking up to him. Her eyes were alight with excitement. Grayson couldn't possibly say no to that expression.

"... Alright."

Lyra squealed as she took Grayson's hand and they ran across the field. Grayson temporarily forgot what they were doing, looking at her boundless happiness.

She looked absolutely free.

Lyra then let go of his hand and ran on further until they were about 8 feet apart.

"Are you readyyyy?!!" Lyra screamed, loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear.

Grayson grinned, matching her volume, "Born ready!!"

"Go!" Lyra yelled as she took off, Grayson couldn't help the small chuckle he let out as he ran towards her.

It was super cheesy. Lyra loved it, and Grayson loved her.

Grayson closed his eyes as he opened his arms— ready for Lyra to jump into them and for himself to spin her around.

Instead, he heard a loud thud.

Grayson opened his eyes and looked down to find Lyra, face down on the floor. As it turns out, Lyra was still extremely tipsy and had mis-aimed, running to Grayson's left instead of towards him directly.

Grayson bent down to check on her, muffling a laugh, "Sweetheart, are you alright?" He asked, though he already knew she was.

Lyra sat up, her eyes were glassy and she looked just about ready to cry. Grayson was taken aback for the second time that day.

"Noooo I messed uppppp!!" She cried, sounding downright broken. Grayson immediately brought her head to his chest, calming her down.

"Shhh, it's okay. We can try again—" Lyra cut him off.

"We can't Gray. You only get one chance at the running-into-each- other's-arms thingy and I messed it up." She sniffled and Grayson's heart wavered.

He thought about how to console her.

"Well, I think chocolate could make this better?" He said and Lyra jolted her head up, looking at him with wide eyes.

If she keeps doing that, I'm going to die of a heart attack.

"YES PLEASE!" She screeched, a smile plastered on her face. Grayson laughed, yet again.

Grayson and Lyra "wok-ed" on over to the market area, which was mainly closed due to the late hour. That's when they spotted an old man closing his humble shop.

Choco Santa

Grayson knew to take an opportunity when he saw one, the couple strode towards the old man.

"Excuse me, kind sir?" Grayson said. The man turned his gaze to him.

"Sorry, boy. But we're closed." He said with finality, not giving them a chance to ask. Grayson, though, was not one to be denied his wishes.

Lyra spoke up, "Mr.Guy. Can't you just let us buy oneeeee choco packet?? Pleaseeee~" She tried.

The man looked at the more-than-half-drunk girl and let out a chuckle, his features softening, "Sorry young girl, but we have to pay for the extra usage of electricity." He replied.

Grayson took to doing what Hawthornes were quite good at, "How much does the electricity bill cost you?" He asked while fixing his cuffs, a show of power.

The man blinked once, "Uh... well, about 500 dollars."

Grayson nodded, "I'll triple it."

Silence.

"What?!" The shopkeeper and Lyra yelled at the same time.

Grayson shot the man a look that said 'you heard me,' and pulled out 1,500 bucks.

The man's eyes were as wide as saucers as he took the money and hastily opened up his shop again. Lyra fumed at Grayson until her gaze landed on the, literal, chocolate haven.

Lyra let out a tiny awed gasp as she ran down each aisle, her expression turning more and more delirious with each new flavor she saw.

Grayson ended up buying all the chocolates in the store. The shopkeeper now, too, looked like he was in heaven.

That's when Lyra squealed, "OH MY GOODNESS— A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN TOO?!"

Grayson turned to see Lyra staring at the chocolate fountain, her mouth left slightly open. He chuckled, despite himself.

"Please go ahead and taste some! It's on the house!" The old-man said, smiling. Lyra didn't hesitate.

Grayson watched her with gentle eyes as she made a satisfied 'mmm' sound after every sip. Lyra didn't let herself get too comfortable very often, a result of her trauma. So seeing her so carefree and childlike made Grayson's heart pick up pace.

Calm down, Gray. You're going to die at this rate.

Eventually the couple made their exit with Lyra licking her lips, carrying 5 chocolate bags and Grayson holding 10 bags.

Lyra came to an abrupt stop. Grayson followed suit, looking at her curiously. She turned towards a bench on they're side and placed all her bags on them before turning to Grayson.

Grayson looked at the bags and then back at her, raising a brow in question.

Lyra deigned him with a singular command, "Put your bags down."

Grayson did just that.

The moment Grayson turned towards her again, Lyra flung herself at him.

Grayson was taken aback for the third time that day. He quickly wrapped his hands around her waist and they were kissing.

All love, passion and chocolate.

"You're the best." Lyra said as they broke apart, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

Grayson smiled, "Only for you."

Lyra looked up to meet his eyes, "I love you." She said, her gaze unwavering as she did. Grayson's eyes softened.

"I love you too," a pause, "sweetheart."

Lyra really laughed then and if Grayson could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him, he relished in it.

They continued their 'wok' down the, now completely empty, streets. It was nearing 2 AM.

Grayson glanced at Lyra, her cheeks were flushed less from being drunk and more due to the chilly wind. She squinted her eyes as she tried to walk in a straight line, fully focused on the task.

Grayson's heart sped up, watching his sweetheart.

Yep. I'm dead, aren't I? Grayson bit back a smile.

They eventually reached a view-point, which gave an exceptional scenery of the entire city. Lyra ran over to the railings and gazed down, looking at the vast beauty covered in darkness.

Grayson wrapped a careful arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady as they watched in silence.

"Listen up people of the world!!" Lyra screamed suddenly with no warning. Grayson looked at her, taken aback for the fourth time that day.

"Grayson Davenport Hawthorne is mine, not yours!!" Grayson's eyes widened at that declaration.

"So I'd better not log onto Instagram or something and see you all making up absolute bullshit about him being your husband or your baby girl!!!" she paused to catch her breathe, "he's mine fuckers!!! Back off and dream on!!!!" Lyra cackled as a cherry on top.

Grayson was grinning like an idiot now. Lyra's very slight jealousy had seeped through while she was drunk, he was beyond amused at this point.

"So Grayson Davenport Hawthorne!!" Lyra yelled at him, though she was still looking towards the city.

Grayson suppressed his laugh, "Yes, sweetheart?!" He tried matching her energy.

"WILL YOU MARRY ME?!"

Grayson's breathe caught, and then he laughed. Really laughed, throwing his head back with his eyes tightly shut. His blonde hair flew back, glowing in the moonlight.

Lyra sent him a glare, "OI! I'M BEING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW!!"

Grayson forced himself to stop laughing, though he couldn't rid himself of his toothy grin, "Of course, Lyra Kane. I'd love to marry you."

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU?!" Lyra screamed at the top of her lungs, obviously holding back a grin of her own. Grayson laughed again.

"YES. LYRA KANE, I WOULD LOVE TO TAKE YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE!!!" Grayson screamed the loudest he ever had, possibly competing with Xander.

Lyra's face changed into one of pure happiness, looking like a teenage girl who was finally dating her long time crush. That only made Grayson want to laugh more. He felt butterflies fly around in his stomach as he pulled Lyra to him, bringing her impossibly closer.

Lyra snuggled into his chest.

They stayed like that for a long moment, with nothing but their own presences and the night sky as a witness.

"I have," Lyra paused, yawning as her eyes fluttered shut, "I have no idea what I did to deserve you."

Grayson's hand was in her hair, slowly lulling her to sleep as he played with it. He didn't reply then, knowing she'd be too tired to listen.

I don't know what I did to deserve you either, Lyra.

——————————————————————

LYRA

Lyra woke up to a splitting headache.

Fucking hell. She thought, annoyed at the terrible start to the morning.

She forced her eyes open, squinting as the rays of light fell on her face, Lyra made a mental note to get darker curtains. That's when her gaze fell on the blonde boy laying beside her.

Grayson had one hand draped over her waist and the other underneath her head, she stared at the face she knew all so well but never got tired of.

Her hands travelled to his face, gently tracing his features as if committing them to memory. That's when he opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers almost instantly.

His eyes always looked closer to sky blue in the morning. The type of shade she could drown in.

"Morning asshole." She whispered, preserving the comfort of the quiet.

Grayson smiled, a slow and soft kind, "Do you remember what happened last night?" He asked softly, moving closer.

Both of Grayson's hands now rested on Lyra's waist as he rested his head on her chest, Lyra smiled.

"No. Well, not exactly. I just remember getting really, really drunk." She said, taking in the scent of his hair. She felt Grayson smile against her chest.

"What?" Lyra asked.

"Sweetheart." Grayson replied. It was totally random, but her heart still skipped a beat, the way it did whenever he called her that.

"Oh, so you really do get flustered."

Lyra blushed. Hard. She pushed his face away from her chest, understanding now that he had been listening to her heartbeat.

"H-how did you know?!" She half-yelled, trying to get herself to stop blushing.

Grayson smirked, "Let's just say you were chaotic last night and told me a lot of things."

Lyra cringed as Grayson moved closer again. He was definitely the golden retriever in their relationship.

They layed in silence as some of Lyra's memories resurfaced, "Good god. Do not tell me you spent more than 1,000 dollars. On chocolate."

Grayson looked up at her, giving her a small smile.

She groaned, "Gray?! A thousand dollars?? On chocolate?? For heaven's sake-"

"A thousand dollars to keep you happy." Grayson cut Lyra off, her breathe hitched.

How does he always have the right words to make me shut up?

"You made quite a declaration, by the way." Grayson spoke, his tone teasing.

Lyra sent him a cautious look, "And what was that?"

"Well, you screamed out to the world at 2AM that Grayson Davenport Hawthorne was yours and yours only and that the fangirls should, and I quote, fuck off."

Lyra was dumbfounded, "W-what?!" She screeched, turning red yet again. Grayson supported himself with his elbow as he looked to her.

"And not just that, you then proposed to me." He said.

Lyra's eyes widened, "I did what?!"

Grayson laughed, "You proposed to me. And I said yes."

Lyra raised a brow, "Grayson, we're literally engaged? You proposed to me a week ago??"

"Well you seemed to have forgotten that, because you proposed to me again." He said, chuckling as Lyra nudged him away out of pure embarrassment.

Her heart sped up, though she wasn't sure whether it was because of Grayson's relentless teasing or knowing that, if she had proposed first, Grayson would still have said yes.

Butterflies flew around in her stomach at the thought.

Grayson stared at Lyra as she tried to get her racing heart to calm down. A smile rested on his face.

"This headache is killing me." Lyra said, finally, trying to get herself distracted from all the embarrassment of last night. Grayson's expression immediately deteriorated.

"I'll go get the medicine." He said, moving to get up. Lyra grabbed his hand. That's not what she had wanted.

"No." She said, Grayson raised a brow.

"Just stay. For now. Please." Lyra said, slightly flustered. She needed that medicine, desperately, but she wanted Grayson more at the moment.

Grayson assessed her, before smiling, "You need it, sweetheart. I'll be back in a minute." He reasoned.

Lyra knew he was right, so she reluctantly let him go.

She waited for him, sitting up on the bed and massaging her head slowly, her eyebrows furrowed from the pain.

That's when Grayson's phone went off, Lyra looked and saw a notification from the firm.

Can't they let him rest? It's literally 8 in the morning?? She thought, glaring holes into the phone.

That's when she noticed the background.

She grabbed the phone and swiped the notification, getting it out of the way so she could see the image clearly. Her breathe caught.

Grayson's background was the photo of a girl. A beautiful girl with flowing brown hair and deep amber eyes. She stood, leaning against the railing as she smiled downwards— the girl looked free, happy. The moon and the stars only seemed to amplify the beauty of the setting.

That's... me?

Lyra knew she was beautiful, hell she had been told that more times than she could count. But this photo was different, it made her look ethereal.

As if she was some other-worldly angel, fallen from grace.

Grayson entered the room, he circled the bed— placing the medicine and water to the side. He gazed down at his phone and grinned.

"It's beautiful." Lyra said, her voice sounded breathless.

Grayson took her chin gently, prying it upwards. Their eyes met, blue and amber— them.

"No, Lyra Kane. You are beautiful."

————————————————————— OKAYYYYYYY?? NOT HALF BAD- I'M SO HAPPY WITH THE DRUNK PROPOSING SCENE, IT'S SO CUTE LMFAO (here I stand, complimenting my own writing). Butttt its also a tribute to all those haters on Pinterest who were jealous of our girl (like pls get a life 😭✋✨) ALSO THE KANEJ REFERENCE, if u realized, ur amazing <3 Alt Titles: Grayson being taken aback by a drunk Lyra. Drunkard Lyra and her Obedient Mate. I pray you enjoyed! <3 @lyrakanefanatic @inkstainsonmyfingertips @alwaysthefangirl @talahs-reading-library @diamondrattherevenge @me-h1m

—————————————————————

[cherryschaos]

Responsibilities need to go away, my book boyfriend is calling me

[allofmytoxicity]

My first fic collection, woo!

Soooooooo, despite disappearing off of the face of the earth for months basically (I have exams and hate my life), I'll be taking a bit of a hiatus for a while to get me through this study period. I've genuinely wanted to do this for the longest time (create a fic collection) but never had the ideas to do it.

I'm taking my chance now though, and there will be fics uploaded every week for the next (minimum) 5 weeks - bare in mind, these are unedited - and the last 2 might come a bit later than their planned dates, just because I haven't had time to write them while studying.

Anyway, the song-inspired fics are:

Thursday - James Potter (14th April)

Friendly Fire - Remus Lupin (21st April)

Kissing in Swimming Pools - Jimmy Palmer (28th April)

Room Service - Grayson Hawthorne (5th May)

Lauren - Bradley Bradshaw (12th May)

Cocoon - Jake Seresin (EARLIEST - 19th May)

Ghost Me - Angus MacGyver (EARLIEST - 26th May)

[rosietrace]

AlisaNash fic truthers, just know I redownloaded my pdf for the complete TIG trilogy collection just so I can have a better method of documenting Alisa and Nash's appearances in the books for “I wouldn't marry Me either” to make sense 😭

Also erm calling all the ppl I asked to be beta readers I hope y'all are available to help out again 🙏 completely fine if you aren't

[morganwrites12672]

Trouble

Platonic Hawthorne Brothers x Hawthorne!Reader

Summary: "I was wondering if I could get a Hawthorne!reader doesn't like Avery when she shows up for the reading of the will, reader doesn't get anything from her grandfather, and her brothers comfort her because she has nothing" (request)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request @thatgrrlpoet ! I'm sorry it took so long for me to write.

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Y/n didn't like Avery from the beginning. The girl seemed like trouble to her. She had never heard the name, she also didn't remember her face. A subtle frown tugged on her lips as she practically glared at the girl. Why would a random stranger be in her grandfather's will? It didn't make sense.

Her nerves were a mess as she waited for the will to be read. All of the Hawthorne's had finally showed up. Even if Nash had been late, and if Jameson was already drunk. She really needed to speak with him about his drinking habits. It was becoming constant. She would worry about that later, maybe talk to one of her other brothers first.

She quickly was snapped out of her thoughts as Mr. Ortega started reading the will. She had been distracted by Zara and Skye arguing. And maybe she had decided to stop paying as much attention as she should to todays events. She looked back to Me. Ortega anxiously.

"To my grandchildren, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, Y/n Y/m/n Hawthorne, And Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave...." he paused for a moment before continuing. "Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars..." Y/n stopped listening after that.

What did he mean? Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a piece was nothing compared to the over forty billion dollar fortune. And he hadn't said anything about the estates. She glanced back to Avery. What had this girl done?

"The remainder of my assets," Mr Ortega continued, "including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs."

The room exploded in a chorus of angry voices. Zara and Skye were upset that they received nothing, and Grayson looked like he might just kill Avery. His gaze was deadly as he stared at the girl, jaw clenched. Jameson was too drunk for many emotions, he but he looked very curious. And then their was Nash...

Nash looked surprised, but not like he cared very much. He never had about the families issues. Not after how horrible he had been treated by their grandfather. He realized it was toxic and got out.

Y/n left the room, going to an empty hallway. She leaned her head back, taking a deep breath. Nash appeared. He had his coat, and looked like he was probably on his way out. He gave her a comforting smile.

"It'll be okay kid," He said softly, leaning against the wall opposite of her. "I don't know how this happened... but I'm sure you'll figure it out. Good luck. And don't beat yourself up over it," he said as he gave her a hug and made his exit.

She mumbled several curse words before making her way back to her room. Whenever she arrived there, she could see Grayson waiting for her. To think, just yesterday the entire Hawthorne family thought either Grayson or Y/n would inherit the fortune. They had always been the most heir apparent Hawthorne's.

"I'm going to figure out how she did it," Grayson said coldly. He looked determined. He had to figure out how this mystery girl had manipulated his grandfather. There was no way some random stranger would get the entire fortune. Not whenever Tobias Hawthorne had spent years trying to mold his grandchildren into the perfect heirs.

"I'm sure you will," Y/n grumbled, sitting at her desk. She swiveled around in the chair, facing Grayson. She looked up at the ceiling, frustrated.

"It was supposed to be either me or you! Not some girl I've never even heard of!" Grayson said, his voice had lost some of its edge though.

Y/n shrugged, moving to sit on the bed next to Grayson. She patted his shoulder. She might be upset, but Grayson seemed even more upset. She had always thought he had the better chance so she wasn't as certain it would have been her. But for it to be a random girl? That was completely unexpected.

"I'm sure we will figure it out," She said with a soft sigh. Grayson nodded, standing to exit her room. He stopped in her doorway, looking back at her.

"I'll be back in the morning. I'll see what I can find tonight," He said before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Y/n had barely had time to change into some sweatpants, before Xander flew into her room. She shouted a curse as he bursted into her room. He gave her a smile, holding up a plate of scones.

"I know you're upset.... so you can have a blueberry one," He said with a smile as he plopped down on her bed. He crossed his legs and sat the plage of scones down. "And, I didn't even use the secret passage because it pisses you off."

She couldn't help the smile that brightened her face as she grabbed a blueberry scone. Xander grabbed a lemon one.

She would figure this out, with the help of her brothers or course. Nothing would ever be too difficult for a Hawthorne to figure out. Not with the way that their grandfather had guided, and trained, their minds to work.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Thank you so much for this request! I loved getting to write it.

My requests are currently open!

[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.

[ewwhoevenisroha]

Okay so like what if Matthias and Lyra used to have like a casual relationship in high school, nothing serious. And later then when Grayson finds out he gets like really jealous. Can someone please make this a fanfic?? PLEASE.