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hiya-itsamber · 3 months

Note

COMING HOME - NASH HAWTHORNE X READER

Word count: about 4k, sorry if it's too long 😭 You’re welcome to be the first person to (help me) tag this under #nash hawthorne fanfic or something (: + this wasn't checked entirely, so sorry if there's any errors :,)

Having spent most of your childhood years in the area, Texas City was nothing new to you. However, now returning for the first time in almost a decade, it just didn’t quite feel the same.

Your life was quite literally perfect, you recalled, right up until nine years ago. Your childhood and early teenage years were filled with opulence, extravagant parties, and the privileges that came with being a member of one of the more wealthy families in the city. Being in these elite circles limited your social life, and only allowed you to mix with those of the same status. There weren’t too many rich folks in the South and even fewer of those who had children. Most of them were too snobbish, too stuck up for you to want to speak with, and the lack of options led to many failed attempts at making friends.

It didn’t come as a surprise to anyone when you finally clicked with the mischievous brothers Hawthorne.

At the ripe age of only seven, you were wreaking havoc with the Hawthorne grandson just a year older than you—Nash. As soon as you saw the little boy with the cowboy hat standing beside his grandfather at a social, you knew you wanted to be friends with him. And that you became.

Every soirée, fundraiser, gala, you name it, you and Nash were found fooling around. Crawling under the immaculate, cream colored dining cloths and holding your own parties under the tables? Check. Tossing handfuls of grapes at each other in the corner of ballrooms? Check. As you grew up, your little stunts only got bolder. Sneaking into the coat room and swapping the jackets, making a mess of the chocolate fountains, changing the classic violin music playing over the speakers to pop music that had guests gasping. Sometimes you didn’t get caught. When you did, the both of you would get scolded together, but it was so worth it.

You and Nash were inseparable. Where he went, you followed. Okay, maybe you were the one hanging onto him. But he didn’t mind. He liked having you around.

Of course, there was Grayson, Jameson, and Xander Hawthorne, too. The first you didn’t like so much. He reminded you too much of the kids you couldn’t make friends with. The two younger ones, though, were fun, also contributing to the entertaining chaos you and Nash loved to cause. But they were more of annoying younger brothers than friends to you.

What started out as seeing them during fancy dinners turned into meeting up outside of those said dinners. Countless afternoons were spent at Hawthorne house, playing board games and just talking. Occasionally, as you grew older, the esteemed Tobias Hawthorne even let you participate in their Saturday morning puzzles.

You were convinced you couldn’t live a better life once you were accepted into Heights Country Day School, the same school Nash had been attending since a year prior. You and Nash were closer than ever, and sometimes you let yourself wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were something a little more than close friends. Your fifteen year old self was convinced that nothing, nothing could go wrong.

That was, until something happened.

In the week you learnt that your father had gotten into the habit of gambling, he lost a very massive bet. You’d barely been at Heights Country Day for a term before you were stripped of the money to go to the school, the title your family held.

Somehow, your shrewd businessman of a father squandered your family’s wealth without you even knowing it until you were flying out of Texas City. You found yourself plummeting from the pinnacle of society to…plain old middle class.

A normal high school, with normal people. A normal apartment, normal dinners, normal, normal, normal. Gone were the extravagant banquets and social gatherings. Gone was the family legacy.

Gone were the Hawthorne boys. Most importantly, gone was Nash.

The only thing you had left and held dear was one of the many spare cowboy hats you took from Nash and never managed to return. You wore it on Halloween for that first year out of Texas City.

No matter how many times you tried to contact him, you couldn’t get through. You didn’t expect to, knowing how hard it was to reach someone of that status. You yourself were once up there.

Luckily, your father didn’t lose so much money that it was terrible. In fact, you guys were still quite well off. You didn’t miss the status, or the money, or the events. You missed something—someone far worse.

Nine years later, you find yourself in Texas City again, to speak to your uncle who took over the business after your father was displaced. To hopefully be able to work in the prestigious company and earn back what your father had lost.

Countless times, the many scenarios of what might have happened played over and over again in your head, all a little different from the last. Some of them were about taking over as the CEO of your family business—most of them were about meeting Nash.

Yet there were so many ‘what if’s. What if he didn’t remember you? What if he didn’t want to speak to you? And the one that haunted you the most. What if he’s in a relationship with someone else?

No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself that he wasn’t, he isn’t—you were sure it would’ve been reported in gossip sites if he was—you couldn’t help but stress over it.

Another thing you were stressing over? Forgetting how the bus system worked here and ended up getting stuck in front of the information board that just started looking like a bunch of colored boxes and bus numbers and stops.

Which is where you’d been for the last half an hour. It was the dead of the night, and taxis weren’t going to the airport frequently at that time.

You were about to give up and splurge on a taxi when a voice greeted you.

“You look a little lost, darlin’.” His voice was so much deeper, so much older and masculine, the Texan accent thickened that you almost didn’t recognize it at first.

Seeing the cowboy hat casting a shadow over those familiar mischievous eyes made you want to burst out laughing or sobbing, you weren’t sure. Maybe a mix of both. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, staring at Nash Hawthorne. You doubted you would even recognize him if not for seeing him occasionally on the news, but, oh, he was so different in real life.

Tall, slightly muscular build, broad shoulders, relaxed posture, the lines of his face that were difficult to make out in the dim lighting of the street lamp and much less under the hat. So, so different but so, so him.

“Do we know each other from somewhere? You look vaguely familiar,” he mused, removing the cowboy hat with one large hand to properly reveal his face.

You burst into tears, and any previous daydream scenarios about playing it cool all crumbled.

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry, did I do somethin’ to offend you?”

“Nash,” you found yourself blubbering, tears falling onto your cheeks faster than you could swipe all of them away. You realized you probably looked a mess, and tried to pull yourself together. This was not how it was supposed to go.

“Oh.” His slightly awkward, pitying smile faded. “Oh, sweetheart. C’mere.”

Dropping your single duffel bag onto the floor with a thud, strong arms pulled you into his firm chest, the cowboy hat in one hand digging into your back but you didn’t mind. Looping your arms around his neck, you forced yourself to calm down. You didn’t even expect yourself to react like this. You thought he’d be a stranger to you, even though you prayed he thought about you.

Nash Hawthorne, your partner in crime, the odd little cowboy at functions, the Hawthorne with a heart as big as his hat.

The hug was more than just a simple hug. It felt like coming home. It wasn’t awkward or tense or anything you hoped it wouldn’t be. It was…perfect.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into his shoulder, clinging onto him like he was your lifeline.

A warm chuckle vibrated through his chest and you could feel it buzz through your bones. “I missed you, too.”

Taking one last deep inhale, you took a step back. Without the tears clouding your eyes, you could make out the features of his face. He’d gotten way more handsome over the last few years, as if he wasn’t already attractive enough—to you, at least—at sixteen. Tender hazel eyes and tousled brown hair, his lips quirked up into that charming smile you missed so terribly. An unzipped leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders and arms, and he wore jeans and scuffed boots. Where he used to act a little awkward dressed like this, he seemed completely used to it now as if a leather jacket and a cowboy hat was what he slept in.

“Hi,” you whispered, tugging your own jacket closer to hide the flush creeping up your neck.

His grin widened, placing the cowboy hat back on top of it his head to cover the mess of brown hair. “Hi. Wanna explain what you’re doin’ here?”

“Yeah, um,” you hugged your arms around yourself. “Trying to figure out if a bus comes here at this time.”

“Not here here, just, y’know, in Texas.”

“Oh. Work, I guess.” You shrugged a shoulder.

“Okay,” Nash—Nash! Your brain still hadn’t recovered from seeing him, from the rush of dopamine he seemed to give you—drags the word out. “And to answer your question, no, buses don’t come here at this time. Do you need a ride?”

“Yes, please.” You told him your destination and picked your duffel off the floor, adjusting it over your shoulder. “What’re you doing at the airport in the middle of the night anyway?”

“Droppin’ somethin’ off for Xander, y’know how it is, kid,” he said in that smooth, drawling accent of his, easing the strap of your bag off your shoulder and hanging it over his instead.

You had too many things to say, but none of them could come out fast enough before the both of you stopped by a motorbike. Your jaw dropped, eyes wide as you looked between him and the bike. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand over the seat of the bike with a proud smile before picking the helmet up and catching you off guard by placing it over your head. It was a little big but cramped at the same time, but it smelt like him—wood and leather and paper money, so you didn’t mind. “Let’s go.” He jerks his head to the bike.

Excitement buzzed through you as you climbed onto the beautiful bike, feeling the handles appreciatively. “This is insane! When-”

Before you could continue, Nash was behind you, his chest pressed against your back. He dumps your bag onto your lap, telling you to hang on to it, before his arms caged you in as he reached for the handles. He was so warm, so comfortable, you wanted to sink into him and stay there forever.

“Wait, don’t you need a helmet?”

“Nah,” he adjusted his hat so that it wouldn’t fly off. “No one’s policin’ the roads at this time, it’ll be fine. Just sayin’, allowin’ you to sit in front of me is also illegal, but then-”

A thrilled yelp left your lips instead of a reply as the engine rumbled to life and Nash kicked off, picking up speed as you two zoomed down the empty road lit only by streetlamps and the half moon. You had one hand steadying the bag between your legs, the other on the metal of the handlebar. The wind on your skin and the rumbling of the engine mixed together to create the most exhilarating experience of your life as the two of you zoomed down the open road. Halfway through, light raindrops started to fall, the drizzle turning into a full-on shower as you two pulled up by the apartment you rented for the time being.

With your bag under Nash’s arm, the two of you raced to the shelter where you keyed in the passcode to open the door to the apartment building with his hand casually on the small of your back. The door swung shut behind him, muting the sound of the heavy rain. Then the both of you looked at one another and started to laugh, all disheveled appearance and wet clothes.

“Come on,” he said, shaking his head and still smiling. “Where’s your place?”

“Seventh floor,” you replied, looking around for a lift and groaning when you didn’t find one. “I don’t wanna take the stairs.”

A mischievous smile toyed at the corners of Nash’s lips and you couldn’t even form a protest before he was hoisting you over his shoulder and your surprised shriek sounded through the corridor. “Nash!”

“Shh, people are sleeping,” he chided, hands on the back of your thighs to lock you in place.

His hat jabbed into your side with each step and you brought your fists down on his muscled back. “Let me down, asshole! There is no way in hell you are going to make it up seven flights of stairs without one of us dying and it’s going to be me if you don’t put me down!”

“Yeah, yeah, sweetheart, I missed you too.”

He started going up the stairs, his hard shoulder digging into your stomach and your legs kicking, watching as your duffel bag swung against his other hip with every step. Giving up, you slumped down against him, a scowl on your face.

Eventually your feet touched the ground in front of the only door on level seven. Turning to Nash with your hands on your hips, you were about to open your mouth and grumble at him, but the young man flashed you a dashing grin and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t even have the decency to look slightly winded. “Yeah, darlin’?”

You scoffed at him despite the warm rush that made its way through your veins at his words, smacking the side of his bicep. “Don’t do that next time.”

“Why not?” he asked while you unlocked the door. “You said you didn’t wanna climb the stairs, and you didn’t. You should be happy. Where’s my thank you?”

“Thank you,” you bit out, shoving him into the house and locking the door behind you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That I am, darlin’.” He dropped the duffel bag on the floor and removed his hat, leaving it on the small table that was too tiny to be considered a dining table.

He flicked the light on. The place was a small, cozy studio apartment you found for cheap on a B&B app, and rented out for the next two months. There was a queen sized bed in the corner, a sofa so tiny it could probably only sit two people if you squeezed, a closet, two chairs at a small table beside the kitchenette, and a bathroom. The time on the clock showed 2 in the morning, and the rain outside was pouring down heavily, hitting the windows even as you drew the curtains shut.

Nash frowns and nudges the bag with the heel of his boot. “You’re staying here for a while and all you have is this?”

“My dad’s coming down for a little while next week so he’ll bring the rest of my stuff,” you said, picking the bag up and starting to unpack. “You wanna stay around for a while? I don’t think the rain’s gonna stop anytime soon and I doubt it’s safe to get back in this weather.”

Nash took his brown leather jacket off and draped it over one of the chairs before sitting on it, and you tried your best not to stare at the way his arms and chest filled out the white shirt snugly. You couldn’t look away fast enough, and he caught you staring. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” Kicking your now empty bag to the side, you sat on the floor with your legs drawn up to your chest. “So, how’s everything lately? I’m sorry about your grandfather.”

He hummed in response. “Apart from that, nothin’ much. You?”

“Oh, you know. Been spending time trying to avoid my dad and help mom.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls a face.

Unsure of what to say, you exhaled. The silence between the both of you was a little awkward—or was it just you? A yawn stretched across your face that had Nash saying, “If you’re tired or anythin’ I can leave-”

“No!” You cleared your throat, embarrassed. “I mean, don’t go.”

There was an amused grin on his face as he stood and stretched. “Go take a shower. I’ll wait.”

Half an hour later when you got out of the shower, there were fresh sheets on the bed and pillows and Nash’s large frame was sprawled out across the couch, making it look almost minuscule. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

“Made the bed,” he told you. “Connected your phone to the WiFi too. Don’t worry, I didn’t go through anything.”

“How did you get into my phone?”

He shrugs. “I guessed. Don’t you change your password?”

“Why do you remember my password?”

“I remember everything.”

The words made your heart still and beat even faster at the same time, hear rising to your cheeks.

Nash offered you a lazy smile and raked his eyes over you as he got up, moving to stand closer to you. You were so close you could count the few sun freckles on his nose and cheeks if you wanted to.

And of course you had to ruin the moment by blurting out, “Do you want to spend the night? I mean- I can, like, sleep on the sofa, you can have the bed. You made the bed anyway. I just don’t want you driving in the rain-”

You shut up when his gaze dropped to your lips and lingered there a second too long.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you apologized, wringing your hands.

One corner of his lips quirked up. “You were always weird anyway.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay. I like you better like that.”

Butterflies. Butterflies you hadn’t felt in your stomach since you last saw him as a hormonal teenager. You thought they went extinct as you grew, but apparently not.

“If your offer still stands, then, sure, I wouldn’t mind staying. And don’t be silly, darlin’, that’s not a sofa you can sleep on.” He spared a glance at said sofa, then turned back to you. “I don’t see why the bed’s a problem. There’s plenty o’ space.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “If you’re fine with that.”

“If you’re fine with that. My clothes are dry now, if that’s what’s botherin’ you.”

You didn’t care about his clothes being wet. You were more than fine. Way more than fine.

As you tucked yourself under the cold duvet, Nash turned the lights off before walking in long strides over to the bed. You felt the bed dip as he lay down beside you, the both of you staring at the ceiling silently, quiet breaths drowned out by the sound of rain.

“Nash?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

Turning over, you let your eyes wander the silhouette of his face in the dark. The little ridge in his high nose, his lips slightly parted. He was handsome in a way you couldn’t explain.

You could see the way his lips tilted up a little before he turned on his side to face you too. “Tell me a secret.”

“I stole one of your hats before I left. Still have it,” you said proudly, then laughed.

“That’s not a secret. I knew that.” He was so, so close, you could feel his minty breath on your cheek. Of course, leave it to the Hawthorne boys to still have fresh-smelling breath in the middle of the night.

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “You tell me one.”

“Hm,” Nash pretended to think, a glint in his eyes despite the dark. “You promise not to tell anyone?”

You grinned. “Pinky promise.”

“Okay, well. I…wanted to be your first kiss, and I had everything planned out, but you left before I had the guts to do it.”

You didn’t seem to hear anything past the word kiss, everything in your head coming to a halt. Nash flashed you that charming grin of his, raising an eyebrow.

“Nash…”

“Hm?” The low rumble of his hum almost had you shivering.

“You said ‘wanted to’. Do you still want to? I mean, you won’t be my first kiss, but maybe you’ll be the first one I actually like,” you returned his smile, albeit rather shy.

“I would.” One large hand came up to the side of your face, hovering above your cheek so you could barely feel the warmth radiating from his palm before he pushed some stray hair off your cheek. His hand lingered there and suddenly he didn’t feel quite as confident as he did just moments ago.

“Okay,” your voice was barely above a breath, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist. “My turn to tell you a secret.”

“Go on.”

“I wanna kiss you too.”

“Yeah?” He wet his lips, and your heart flipped in your chest as your gaze dropped to his mouth. His hand locked itself behind your neck, half tangled in your hair, as the both of you slowly seemed to draw closer together, almost like magnets in slow motion.

Raising yourself up on his elbows, you gasped as his lips met yours, going completely still. Everything stopped making sense as your entire universe narrowed in on where his lips were against yours and his hand was warm at the nape of your neck, buzzing with heat and energy you were so sure you were about to explode.

Nash began to murmur, right up against your lips, “It’s okay if you-”

You pressed your lips harder to his, cutting the words off with a deep groan that reverberated under your palm that was on his chest.

God, oh god, oh god, oh god.

Suddenly you were on top of him, your face cupped on both of his hands as he led the kiss. Slow, steady, strong presses of his lips against yours, short circuiting your brain. And oh you almost melted when he groaned into your mouth again, carving out a place in your memory for that sweet sound in hopes that you’ll never forget it.

The kiss said everything you didn’t. Secrets and promises and much the two of you missed one another and all the stories yet to be told, but this was far more efficient than talking.

You’d take kissing Nash Hawthorne over anything and everything all day, every day.

His pupils were wide and blown out when you two finally stopped, circled by that ring of amber in his gorgeous eyes. Your hair fell to the sides of you like a curtain as you looked down at him, but two of his hands pushed it back before pulling you down again and crushing his mouth to yours. It was more feverish this time, almost messy with the way your teeth and tongues clashed, heavy breaths hanging low in the air alongside the sound of the lightening rain.

He kissed you until you were dizzy and senseless and when he finally lay you down beside him and wrapped an arm around your waist, dropping a kiss on your hair, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

You weren’t sure about how things were going to work out, regarding your job, your personal life, him. But you knew that his kiss held a promise, and you heard it loud and clear. He was going to stick around this time, no matter where it took either of you. He wasn’t going to lose you for a second time.

It wasn’t easy to be comfortable or fit in anywhere you went, but you fit with him like the perfect puzzle piece. He knew that, and he was determined to offer himself to you as your home for as long as you'd stay.

-🍀

ANON???? BHUFVJDKCM ANON. ANON!?!?!??

ok i've read this a stupid amount of times before i'm posting this and i just wanna say that you did him SO much justice. (also "4k, sorry if it's too long" !??!?!?! CMON I FEEL BLESSED THAT IT'S EVEN 4K THAT'S INCREDIBLE, THIS IS A MASTERPIECE) you wrote nash SO WELL!? so in character i was kicking and giggling and screaming the entire time?????

also when i tell you i shouldve recorded my reaction to reading this because the AMOUNT OF TIMES i fully had to put my phone down and compose myself cuz i was giggling like an idiot.

the cowboy hat stealing, the motorbike ride, the forced proximity, ONE BED??? HE CARRIED HER UP THE STAIRS???? LIKE HELLO!!!!!! HE'S TJHE MOST PERFECT MAN EVER AND 🍀 ANON YOU WROTE HIM SO SO WELL I CANNOT BTGUFRHDJNK!!!!

i FULLY melted into my chair at the kiss, i was SCREAMING. "tell me a secret" oH MY GOD??? also the fucking pet names i couldnt contain myself ofc we have darlin' which is a nash classic BUT ALSO THE SWEETHEART GOT ME ALL TWIRLING MY HAIR AND SHIT LIKE HELLLLLOOO!!!!!!!!

sorry this is just one big mass of me screaming and crying and throwing up because i'm in love with nash hawthorne AND THIS FANFIC. bestie you are a BLESSING to the nash girlies i hope they all find this and read it a million times like i did

thank you sm for writing this!!! it was the best thing ever to wake up to, hugs and kisses x100!!! mwah <333

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rosietrace · 29 days

Text

Veronica McNamara

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OC for my Inheritance Games fanfiction, I wouldn't marry me, Either

Face Claim: Rachel Zegler

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Full Name ; Veronica McNamara

Nicknames : Vero, Vee (Alisa), Miss Sawyer (Jameson), Sweetheart (Mrs. Laughlin), Lady Justice (Xander), Roni (Elias), Vanessa (Skye)

Age : 24 (September 1st, Virgo ♍)

Occupation : Lawyer for McNamara, Ortega, and Jones || Business employer for Avery Kylie Grambs

Height : 144 cm

Color Palette : Latte brown, cream white, neutral green tones

° • ° • ° • ° • °

PERSONALITY

Veronica is a neutral positive kind of person, in a similar way to Alisa in terms of personal views— but that's where their similarities end.

Veronica is notably more optimistic than Alisa, if only by a bit; While she takes her job as a lawyer very seriously, it's generally accepted by Alisa and their other colleague — Elias Jones — that she's the most upbeat about having to wake up excruciatingly early to work at her parent's law firm with nothing to keep her awake outside of an excessive amount of caffeine.

RELATIONSHIPS

Alisa Ortega — Besties. They've been attached to the hip since childhood due to their parents working together!

Elias Jones(OC) — Really close friends! They met during their college days, and thanks to their parents being colleagues at their law firm, she, Elias, and Alisa have been closer than ever!

Nash Hawthorne — Kinda doesn't know how to feel about Nash ever since he and Alisa broke up, as they were her first exposure to what a relationship should be like, other than her parents. But other than that, she and Nash get along just fine. She still kinda holds out hope for him and Lee-Lee </3

Avery Kylie Grambs — Positive neutral, at best. Veronica sees Avery a lot less compared to Alisa, and she only visits Hawthorne House when it concerns threats against Avery's life; Avery's grown to be on friendly terms with Veronica after the incident in the Blackwood.

TRIVIA

LIKES : Coffee, picnics, dog walking, pal-lentines day, journaling, croquet, high fashion boutiques

DISLIKES : Waking up early, oversleeping, sleepwalking, anything remotely athletic (croquet is her exception), Skye Hawthorne /j

HOBBIES : Dog walking, journaling, crocheting, reading

Has a pet corgi named Heather

Is called ‘Miss Sawyer’ due to sharing a name with Veronica from Heathers

Is closest to Xander, out of all the Hawthorne brothers!

The youngest of the M, O, J trio! Elias is only two years older, while Alisa is 3-4 years older than her

Just a giant Heathers reference /j (If Veronica is Green for Duke, Alisa is Red for Chandler, and Elias is Yellow for McNamara which is funny since Veronica's the one with the last name McNamara)

Has five cups of coffee a day (Alisa is notably concerned, and it might've rubbed off on Xander)

During her high school days, she attended Heights Country Day with Elias, albeit not at the same time

Studied in Yale University with a degree in Law; Majoring in Political science and government, Minoring in Cognitive science

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#veronica mcnamara #tig #the inheritance games fanfic #the inheritance games #tig fanfic #tig oc #the inheritance games oc #oc insert #rachel zegler #alisa ortega #nash hawthorne #elias jones #[tig] i wouldn't marry me either #[tig] veronica mcnamara #one giant heathers reference /j /j

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 month

Text

Mine? (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Curse him, curse everyone.

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A/n: She's a lil small, but im hoping the next ones will be longer, so im sorry yall 😅

anyways, enjoy!

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The slam of the door reverberated through Y/n's body, the vibrations racing against her heartbeat as she leaned back against it, her arms winding tighter around the little body of her daughter she held against her chest.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, cursing herself and him. Herself for opening the door and him, for, obviously, hiring a PI.

The silence after the slam of the door was deafening, and the moment of silence stretched Y/n's patience taut as Adelaide started crying again.

Adelaide shook in Y/n's arms as she heaved loud cry after cry, her chest expanding to make space for air to fuel her next scream.

Y/n released a frustrated breath, letting her head fall back against the door.

"It's okay baby, it's okay. Nothing happened." Y/n mumbled, leaning forward slightly to speak directly against Adelaide's ear, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "It's okay, you're okay."

It took a few moments, but the babe calmed down, fat tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, her eyes wide, sniffling and pouting as she stared at Y/n. She looked ready to start crying again, so Y/n smiled at her, gently guiding her to lay her head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Did I scare my princess?"

Adelaide, of course, being a five month old babe, did not reply. Y/n kissed the top of her head, wondering if he had left yet. Y/n knew it was wishful thinking though.

Grayson was not someone you could just slam the door in the face of and he'd just leave. And now when he knew he had a daughter? Unlikely.

Y/n started walking towards the bedroom, knowing that he might start knocking again any second and wanting to be away when he did. Y/n did not want Adelaide to get scared again.

"I am so sorry, I promise not to do that again, I swear I won't let him take you from me. I will protect you. You will stay with mommy, yeah? He can't take you away- he can't."

Y/n knew she was talking to herself at this point, but ignoring the fact was easier than acknowledging it.

Quietly, Y/n shut the bedroom door behind her, carrying Adelaide towards the bed in the middle of the room and settling onto the plush mattress, humming a lullaby softly as she laid down.

At that moment, Grayson decided to knock again. It would be stupid to call them knocks even. He started banging on the door, and though it sounded muffled in the locked bedroom, Y/n wondered if he would just tear it down.

After long minutes of the banging, he stopped, and Y/n dared to hope that he'd left.

As she lay there with Adelaide snoozing on her chest, Y/n cursed him. Cursed Skye. Cursed everyone who had somehow aided in bringing her to this point.

Not the fact that she had gotten pregnant. Never the fact that she now had a babe to care for instead of living her life.

But for the fact that she had to cower and hide in her own home, now wondering if she could ever sleep peacefully, knowing he was out there, and that he would probably try to take Adelaide away.

She's his too. A voice inside Y/n's head mumbled, which she promptly shut down.

With a sigh, Y/n started to drift off, wishing she could just run away again.

Knowing it was wishful thinking.

But then her eyes flew wide open, and she turned, doing her best not to jostle Adelaide, and reached out to grab her phone from where it had been discarded earlier in the morning.

Unlocking it, she swiftly opened her contacts, staring at the three names at the top and debating who to call.

In the end, she settled on calling the oldest of the three.

"Y/n? This is new, is Adelaide already missing her uncle?"

Y/n sighed.

"Nash. He knows."

Silence, then-

"Fuck."

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Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @berryzxx @cassie6392 @riddlesb1tch

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #tig fanfic #tig x reader #grayson x y/n #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader angst

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mrswarnerxo · 6 days

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❪ ✦ ❫ grayson’s morning routine.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: grayson hawthorne has a long routine for the morning; but his half-asleep-willing-girlfriend will make it all better.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, pet names, sleepy, female reader, forehead kisses, waking up early, swimming (are those even warnings?), use of Y/N, softie grayson (?)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1073

𝐀/𝐍: bro reader is me. also idk i saw this on a fanfic or like a headcanon with grayson but i forgot who made it?? TRLL ME WHO IT IS SO I COULD KNOW AND TAG THEM GRAHGG??

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle

grayson hawthorne has a strict morning routine. wake up at 5 to swim, swim until the others wake up, take a shower, get dressed, get coffee, and do whatever grayson does.

now, having a girlfriend who hates mornings, though, makes his routine have some… holes in it. though, whenever she said she wanted to do it with him, he couldn’t lie that he was happy with it.

“are you sure you want to wake up with me tomorrow, love?” he asks, looking at you nervously. you grin at him. “yeah, i’m sure. plus, i’m tired of not waking up with you in bed, so…” you trail off.

grayson lifts an eyebrow before sighing. “okay, but if you’re too tired to, just tell me and you could go back to bed, okay?”

“i know, don’t worry!”

now, you know that he wakes up early. but you never knew how early.

“love,” grayson says as he lightly shakes your shoulders. you groan tiredly, turning on your side. “Y/N, you said you wanted to wake up with me.”

“yeah, but i never knew how early…” you mumble, your eyes still closed. he chuckles lightly. “you said you wanted to, right?”

“mhm.”

“then come on.”

sighing, you blink your eyes open before rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look up at the blond above you and hum.

you wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes again. “‘cmon, pick me up,” you mumble, digging your face in his neck. grayson tries to hide his smile as he puts a hand behind the small of your back and picks you up with him.

you wrap your legs around him as he walks to the walk-in closet and sets you down again.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes as grayson gets out his swimming trunks and your bathing suit. “do you want to swim with me?” he asks, looking up at you from his crouching position.

you shrug and say i don’t know with your mouth closed. he rolls his eyes at you, amused as he takes the swimming clothes.

you watch him as he takes his swimming trunks and walks into the restroom with them. you frown. you’ve already seen everything, why does he need to change in the bathroom?

but, you suppose that him sleeping without a shirt is a reward itself already. even though the reason why, was a whole nother conversation that you two already had.

soon, he comes back out with his swimming trunks on and you grab your swimming suit and walk into the restroom.

you tiredly—slowly—change into your swimming suit, the feeling of the fabric against your dry skin making you feel weird. of course, it’ll feel better once you're wet, but still.

you toss your dirty clothes on the wall, where a piece of it opens and takes the clothes before closing again.

you snort and roll your eyes. rich people. walking back out, you see grayson making his bed with two towels on his shoulder and if you were any other person, you’d find this weird, cleaning while he’s in his swimming trunks.

if you were any other person.

he spots you walking out and straightens his back, offering his hand to you. smiling—still tired, surprisingly—you take his hand.

he smiles back and takes you out of his room and to the swimming pool. he swims until everyone else wakes up, he told you. you wonder how long that exactly takes.

all of the rooms are still dark as he makes it to the swimming pool, sliding open the see-through door.

still holding your hand, he steps outside and to one of the pool chairs, putting down the towels on top of it.

you hum and sit on the chair, bringing your legs to your chest.

“do you want to stay here?” grayson asks, lifting an eyebrow at you. you nod at him. “i’ll go in later,” you say, making him form a little smile at you.

he was never one to smile, but he always does when he’s with you. it brings toy joy; especially when it’s a full-blown smile, one of those rare ones.

you watch as he gets into the pool and begins to swim, going from the end of the pool to the other end of the pool, swimming in laps.

you watch how his back muscles move as he moves his arms, his biceps flexing. you blink and look away from him before he can see you staring.

even though you two are official now, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed whenever he caught you staring at him.

especially in situations like this one.

it was a little while later when you got up from your chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. grayson glanced at you sitting down, before making his way to you.

he’s over there before you even got your feet in the water, putting his hands on either side of your thighs. you put your hands on top of his own and lean down, kissing his wet forehead.

he wraps his arms around your hips and puts his head on top of your chest, making you wrap your arms around his wet neck.

“do you want to come in now?” he asks, his words slightly muffled from your chest. “yeah,” you hum, moving your legs back and forth in the water, both beside his hips.

he nods and trails his hands down to your bottom, pulling you towards him before he backs away from the ledge, bringing you with him.

you squeal as you wrap your legs and arms around him, the cold water making you freeze. “it’s freezing!” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut. “jesus—how are you not cold, gray?”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead. “i’ve gotten used to it, flower.”

a few moments later after swimming, kissing, and hugging, avery walks out with jameson by his side.

“stop flirting and come eat. breakfast is ready,” jameson says, smirking at his brother. grayson glares at him and slowly brings you down from where you were.

you had tried to see how long he could not breathe from underwater, but of course, he had to try to impress you and was under there longer than he should have.

of course, he didn’t tell you that, though. after all, he needs to beat you in the pool games tomorrow—which, of course, he’ll never admit to liking.

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cassiachales · 23 days

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Journal Entry Four [[And Grayson Hawthorne’s Lips] Yes, His Lips]

note: still can't belive the amount of love this silly little self-indulgent fanfic is getting. y'all are the reason i write <33 this chapter is also *slightly* longer than the others taglist: @f4iry-bell, @never-enough-novels, @reminiscentreader, @dahliawarner, @lanterns-and-daydreams

Saturday– It’s been four days since I last saw the reason I bought this journal. Xander’s been demanding to know what happened on Wednesday, and though I really want to tell him, I want to keep that moment to myself. A secret between me and a certain Hawthorne. I’m busy wondering what we are. Acquaintances? Friends? Something with bigger feelings? I don’t know and that keeps scaring me. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sometimes, you wish you didn’t like guys who wear suits and have dry conversations.

But you can’t help it.

Xander’s on the floor, his hand on his forehead. “Why didn’t the pebble work?”

“Wait, so you were the one who put the pebble there?”

“I thought it would work.” He moans. “It should’ve worked.”

You don’t tell him about how Grayson’s fingers were on your waist and how they still left a phantom touch.

You don’t tell Xander about what Grayson said.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── “How do you do this to me?” ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And you can’t get his voice out of your head. Low and seductive and you can still feel the featherlight touch of his lips at the curve of your ear.

Grayson’s been ignoring you. When you arrived at Hawthorne House that morning, you’d seen him.

You’d almost said hi when he brushed past you as though he didn’t know you, and Xander had seen it.

“Someone give that guy a dose of happiness.” Jameson had said, his hands around Avery’s shoulders.

And now, Xander was busy moping about how his attempts to set the two of you up had failed miserably.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── He asks me that question as though I know the answer. The only answer I want to ask is: HOW DOES HE MAKE ME WANT HIM?? Yes, he’s attractive. Yes, he’s absolutely amazing. And yes, I might be a little bit in love with him. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You get up from the floor, patting Xander’s head. “I’m gonna go get you a drink.”

He groans. “I hate drinking.”

“You definitely look like you need one.”

“I do, actually.” Then he perks up, as though there’s another idea in his head.

“Xander, don’t you dare–”

“Grayson’s office has the best scotch and wine.” He begins, ignoring you.

“I am not getting whiskey from his office.”

“Oh, you definitely are.”

“I am not.”

“Do you want a chance with him or not?”

Obviously, you do. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to go to Grayson Hawthorne’s office and get a drink from there.

“You are going to go get your own drink.” You say, crossing your arms. “I am not going to go into that prick’s office.”

“Gotta love how he developed from being a hot guy to a hot prick in your eyes.”

“Who said I still find him hot?”

You didn’t care if people called you petty. If Grayson would ignore you, you would ignore him.

Simple.

Xander gets up, nudging your side. “At least get the whiskey.”

“You’re a drunkard.”

He shrugs.

You sigh.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I am definitely the dumbest person on the planet for actually going to the office and getting the whiskey. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You walk down the corridors and go up staircases before you find his office.

You knock.

“Come in.” He says, and his voice sounds as though he’s half asleep.

You can’t help but wonder when, exactly, he’d actually slept through the night.

Opening the door, you step in, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re in surprise.

He says your name.

And god, you love the way your name rolls off of his tongue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You whisper. You didn’t mean to talk to him about that, but the words escape you.

“Not on purpose.” He whispers back, getting up from his chair. The desk is littered with papers and he looked half-buried in them.

“It seemed like that when you just walked by me like I was nothing.”

“You could never be nothing, Not to me.” He says, and he walks towards you before his back straightens and he looks away.

Until then, until he looked away, you’d believed you could have actually been something to him.

Now?

You feel as though someone is going to take a hammer to your heart.

“How dare you say I could never be nothing and then look away? How dare you play with my heart?” You say. You’re fuming, you can’t believe that you were falling for a man like him.

Until you see him quiver. His eyes are mad and his whole body is shaking, like he wants to say something but the words just won’t come out.

He walks to you, your chests almost touching.

His hands are quivering when they’re on your arms, touching you with a featherlight touch, as though he can’t quite believe you’re real.

“Why can’t I think straight when you’re with me?” And then he says your name, and you’re falling.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── He looked at me like I was the only person alive. Like I was the reason his heart was beating. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Whenever I look at you, I cannot think. Whenever I see you smile or laugh, I feel the sudden urge to join you. Whenever I hear your voice, I feel like I am a damned man and you are my only chance at salvation. How? How do you have such an effect on me? Why is it that you are the only person who crowds my mind? Why can't I help but want to be with you? Why do I want you?

I don’t know. I don’t know why–or how–you consume my thoughts. I have never been able to give my heart but to you? When I am with you, I want to give you all of me. I’ve never been so unsure of my feelings, and then you came along.

I think I love you. I think I am hopelessly in love with you.” Your name rushes from his lips like it’s a prayer.

You can’t breathe.

His lips are nearing yours, and then they stop when they’re a finger’s breadth away.

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you now, I’ll never feel like stopping.” He says, his voice in a low whisper. “But I’m also afraid that if I do not kiss you now, I’ll never be able to think of anything else.”

For two seconds, the two of you stay still.

Then: “Can I?”

The barest of nods.

His lips are on yours and you feel like you’re on fire.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Oh, no, I’m not writing the rest of it down. I’m afraid someone will find this and read this journal and just because of that, I am not writing anymore. But I will say this: his lips are extremely soft and his kiss is like a secret that he never wishes to give away. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry Three

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #au #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the inheritance games #x reader #fanfic

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1989stanz · 3 months

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Well, two days ago I promised a fanfic to you all, so it is here! It's a inheritance games fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it. I accept any type of criticism, but just don't offend me. Thank you! @aaal-iz-well @myster3y @myfairkatiecat @riddles-n-games@aria-1105 @formulalina15

Prologue:

Jameson lost a 911 and has to deal with his penance.

Disclaimer:

All characters are from Jennifer Lynn Barnes's book The inheritance games. None of them are mine! Mentions of Nash Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Avery Grambs, Gigi Grayson and Maxine Liu. There's some cursing and mentions of murder, but nothing serious. The author didn't deep dive in these two delicate topics. No spoilers and no smut!

English is not my first language! So I apologize for any mistakes.

(P.S.: I'm always open for fanfic suggestions.)

Words count: 17K (sorry for being so long. I just couldn't help it 😭)

Jameson was never the type of person you could call “phone addicted.” He didn't spend much time scrolling because he was always busy with his brothers, a riddle, or doing something that the police would certainly arrest him for it. As a result, charging his phone wasn't something that occupied his mind, that's why his phone died often. That's what happened on this day. He was in a phone call with Xander when suddenly his phone went dead. Letting out a sigh, he opened the bedroom he shared with Avery to search for his charger. The room was quite a mess, with clothes on the floor, in the bed and hanging lazily around a chair. It reflected the owners' minds: messy as hell, but still comfortable somehow. There was a colored cube on the floor he accidentally stepped on and kicked away as he continued looking inside a drawer.“Where is it?”, he thought.“I know it's here. I remember the last time I used it and I put it in this drawer. . .” Before he could properly finish his inner monologue, he felt IT before he heard or saw it. He felt it strong and passionately inside of him, and deep inside he just knew what it was. Someone was approaching—HER. He felt her presence almost all the time when she was around. His heart would just stop as a true and genuine felling he had never felt before her took over his entire body and soul. It was exaggerating to describe it this way, but every single thing he felt and thought about her was exaggerating. “Jamie?”, Avery spoke and, oh, he loved her voice, specially when she said the nickname his brothers gave to him. Nobody else beside them had the right to call him this was, but her? Just listening to his nickname set his blood and entire body on fire. Hungry. He was hungry for everything, even for her—specially for her. “Heiress?”, he finally turned around and his heart pounded faster when he finally looked at her and realized why she called him. Her eyes were gleaming—they were always so bright when they stared at Jameson's eyes—, a challenge that he couldn't back down on her face. He clearly wouldn't back down from anything she proposed. “Jamie.” Avery knew he loved when she said it, so she usually did it when she wanted his whole attention to her, and god-damn, she was wearing one of his shirts. She had never done it before, but it looked way better on her. She looked beautiful, he thought to himself. And he FELT how Avery had an enormous effect on him. Forget hungry. He was starving just for a piece of her.

Smirking, he said, “So, now you steal my shirts?”, his green eyes glowing more than ever.

“Only when I want to catch you off guard, like now”, her eyes told what she didn't: Avery was enjoying what she was doing to him. Of course she did, he was acting like a damn dog. They stared at each other and did not break eye contact as she walked up to him and pressed her lips to his. The kiss wasn't soft or slow. It was breathtaking, and when she pulled away, he wanted more. Forget the charger, it could wait, but his hunger could not. And probably the 911 call he received from one of his brothers could too.

Grayson would never admit, but he was terrible. Not physically, Grayson Hawthorne was at no time physically terrible. He always makes to sure to be looking good. But mentally? His mind and feelings were so awful that just “terrible” wasn't an appropriate answer. He was drowning in work—again—, swimming like crazy and doing anything that was humanly possible to stop his brain from echoing a name. Her name. So that's why he was standing again at the place Emily had died, so-and-so far from the ground. He had no equipment and wondered—again— what would happen if he jumped. Of course, it was just a thought, Grayson wasn't going to jump, but just the adrenaline that he felt with this thought kept his entire head quiet. Her name wasn't there for a moment. But moments didn't last forever, so that's why he decided to finally go back to the house.

Once he arrived, his whole body ached for something. Escapism. Her name was there again, and he knew a way to stop it. Grayson quickly took some turns around the house, and before he could even think about it, he was in the cellar. Without realizing, his hands grabbed a Tequila, took off the cover and his nose caught the smell of the liquid. Eve. Eve. Eve. Eve. He took a swing. Eve. Eve. Eve. He took another swing, this time longer than the other one, and… Nothing. It was calm. And he took more long swings. He hardly allowed himself alcohol, but in that occasion he drank it like his life depended on it.

Halfway through the bottle, one thought broke through his shields: “You need someone”. That hit him, hard. But for one second he stopped taking swings and recognized the obvious: he was broken, drowning, but he didn't have to be alone. He had his brothers and Avery and, somehow, that was everything. Eve couldn't touch this, it was totally his and only his. His family. That's what they were. So he picked his phone from his pocket and only sent one message for each of his brothers: 911.

Nash and Xander appeared in a heartbeat and, for reasons he couldn't tell, his heart overflowed with love. He felt it warm and quiet on his chest for the first time in a very long time. Nash was the first one to look at him, raising one of his eyebrows, “So what's the deal, little brother?”. Xander whispered in Nash's ear, “He seems drunk to you too, or did the explosion I caused today already affecting me?” Grayson almost raised an eyebrow when he heard his words. That would explain his clothes that seemed to be set on fire. Instead, he chose to analyze the room he requested their presence. The gaming area was an enormous place full of all kind of games, physical games—like bowling—or just games that required thinking, like chess. Being more specific, Hawthorne chess.

After four rounds of Hawthorne chess and three Grayson's victories later, strip bowling was the chosen game, and he found out in the worst way possible that strip bowling wasn't for him. Nash didn't have his boots and his socks. Since his brothers demanded when they first played strip bowling that Nash's cowboy hat wasn't a piece of clothing, he was shirtless but had his cowboy hat on. Xander didn't have shoes and socks anymore, and Grayson…was winning. He didn't wear a coat, shoes, socks, and his shirt. But he was happy to be with his brothers…or at least two of them. Grayson turned away as soon as he noticed that Jameson wasn't there and asked, “Where's Jameson?”

“Probably doing something very dangerous and assuming risks that could get him to have a meeting with God!”, Xander replied with a smile. Nash frowned his eyebrows, “I called him like 10 times, and he didn't pick up.” Wasting no more time, Grayson reached for the phone in his pocket and called Oren. The bodyguard picked up immediately. “Any problem?”, he asked, his voice calm and powerful and useless for someone like Grayson, who knew the word “power” like the back of his hand. “Where's Jameson? Is he in danger?”. He could hear the way the bodyguard shrugged. “No danger in sight, if you don't consider sleeping in Avery's bedroom a dangerous thing to do.” Jameson was sleeping, and it was almost offensive that he lost a 911, but then he realized. Jameson lost a 911, and he was going to pay for it like Grayson did. He smiled and turn off the phone call. “As much as I love to see you smile, I can tell where this is going”, Nash replied. Xander was amused, his eyes as bright as the sun. “So Jameson really lost a 911?”. They didn't answer, but instead the rest of the evening was wasted between plans and more plans for his penance.

1:00 am

Jameson noticed that he lost a 911 call, and he knew his brothers would come after him with a wicked plan. Surprised wasn't an adjective to describe his emotions when Xander appeared out of nowhere at night and started to play a trumpet. But furious and about to end Xander were appropriate words. “STOP!”, he yelled through gritted teeth, trying to cover his ears with a pillow. Nash put a hand on his little brother shoulder to stop him. “Enough, Xan. Enough.” Grayson was behind him, and Jameson could swear he almost smiled. Reluctant, he got up from the bed. “It's time for my penance.” It wasn't a question, and nobody corrected him. Instead, he just received a devilish smile from Nash. It was going to be a very, very long night.

1:30 am

Max was spending the Christmas holiday at the Hawthorne house in her own wing, where his brothers dropped him. She smiled, a big and bright smiled that he almost feared. Almost. “Hello, little duck.” He snorted. “Not sure about being a duck.” She meant dick, but he chose to ignore it. “However. Just sit in this chair and let me do my magic.” He sat, and she covered his face in a really white foundation, drawing a smile with her makeup pencil, covering his cheeks a really shiny red. “I think I know what you're doing, but I better be wrong.” Max smirked, and he decided that smirking didn't look good on her. Actually, it was never a good thing when someone who wasn't him smirked. “I can't tell you. Xander made me promise.”

“I think so.” And he let her finish, putting a blue wig on his head, covering his hair. Thrilled, she picked a small mirror on the desk, showing his reflection to him. “Do you like it?”. He was right indeed. Xander had asked his girlfriend for a clown makeup for him. She gave him a card with an address written on it as he left her wing. He was going to kill Xander. Suffocated, precisely. With his own damn wig. Opening the card, there was an address that he did not recognize:

Flower Boulevard Street, 89

P.S.: Gigi must drive.

2:00 am

Gigi knew how to drive a car. Of course she did. At least that was what she told him before breaking all the traffic laws. Jameson wasn't a fan of laws and endless rules, but after this 30 minutes painful ride and almost dying more times than he could count, he was a new fan of the traffic law, apparently. She stopped in front of a building, some pop music blasting on the radio, his face so white that it looked like he was a ghost. After a few minutes of searching for his soul that clearly was lost along the way, his eyes analyzed the construction. He had thought about the worst places that his brothers would have chosen as a location for the evening, but a big and luxury hospital didn't cross his mind, not even once. But there he was, standing in full clown clothes in the hospital parking. Gigi grabbed his arm. “What are you waiting for? I thought you liked a challenge.” He did, and that's why he entered the construction.

2:15 am

He managed to get lost inside the hospital, but that was way better than Gigi getting lost four times while driving 'cause she insisted on not using the GPS. After a few minutes, he founded his brothers. Unfortunately. “Wooow! He looks awfully amazing”, Xander shouted. “This isn't your best moment, little brother”, Nash laughed. Grayson just looked, without saying anything at first. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I think you lost something, Mr.Clown”, he told Jameson, pulling out leather pants from his hands. Not common leather pants, but THE leather pants. He was doomed.

2:25 am

Out of all his brothers, Jameson was the leanest, but the leather pants still squeezed him really tight. It was almost painful, and he needed ten minutes to make them fit. “Comfortable?”, Grayson asked, enjoying this moment more than anything else. Jameson gave a Cheshire cat smiled, not giving him the satisfaction to see his discomfort. “More than ever, big brother.” Grayson smirked, and he wondered why everyone was suddenly smirking at him all the time. Nash leaned on the doorway, his cowboy hat hiding his smile. “Ready to put on a show, Jamie?” A show? What the actual fuc...”

“I have balloons!” Xander tossed three bags of balloons at Jameson's face, and he caught each one, his face marked with confusion. “Why do I need balloons?”

“For the kids!”, Xander smiled, thriving. “There are some sad and unfortunate kids on this hospital that need some fun and joy in their lives, and you're going to bring fun and joy. That's what clowns do, isn't it, Mr.Clown?”

He could feel the need to wash off all the makeup in the sink bathroom and take off his ridiculous clothes, including his fancy clown shirt. But he promised it to his brothers. Grayson had called and he didn't come. That was his penance. “Where are the kids?”, he asked.

3:35 am

One hour and ten minutes later, Jameson was at the edge of a breaking down. Sure he could deal with one or two kids playing with his wig, trying to pull his clothes, licking his face when they thought he couldn't see, getting on the ceiling, screaming, crying, popping the balloons, trying to slap him, laughing and making jokes of him, swearing, running and so much more. But twenty? It seemed and felt like hell. He couldn't even judge the kids, 'cause little Jamie was worse than that kids. He looked at Nash after one of them spat on his face, “Please, Nash. Please stop this.” All three of them laughed, Xander more pleased with himself than ever. He had video every time a kid did something to him and threatened to send them to Avery. Jameson didn't even try to stop him, his little brother was going to show Avery one way or another. And he was mortified. “Please. It's been one hour. I can't handle more.” Jameson Hawthorne didn't beg, of course not. But he was about to get on his knees if Nash didn't look at him and decided that the poor boy had enough. “Alright, kids!” He shouted and all of them immediately stopped what they were doing, something that Jameson couldn't do. He felt jealous. “Form a line, so the clown can say goodbye to you all.” They said an audible “noooo”. Apparently, they liked to torture him. He went to say goodbye to every kid when they finally formed a line, some of their names carved on his brain as he passed. Brian. Yasmin. Joe. Kloe. Patrick. Pablo. Iago. . .

“Where's Iago?”, Kloe said, looking behind her. Jameson counted the kids and there were only 19 of them. Oh, hell. “Nash”, he looked at his oldest brother while he nodded, understanding what he meant with just one word. “Go there, Jamie. We'll stay here.” He took a glance at the kids. “So, how are we feeling about dancing?” They screamed in excitement. Jameson couldn't understand how he did it.

4:05

Where were this kid? Jameson had searched absolutely every god-damn room of the hospital, had warned the nurses, and they still had not found him. He couldn't help but remember when he disappeared as a kid. It didn't take a couple of minutes to find him, it took hours. Sometimes even days. He swallowed hard, thinking what would happen if Iago wasn't found. What if he was in danger? How would his parents react? What if he managed to get out of the hospital…

“Oh my god, Iago! Can you calm down for a second? You're going to spill my coffee all over the room.” He heard someone say in a room at the end of the hallway, stopping to look what was going on. Gigi trying to take Iago off of the ceiling with a cup of coffee in her hand. The scene was a one to be recorded, if Jameson wasn't freaking out. “Iago! Get off of there!”, he commanded, and surprisingly the kid seemed to hear. “I don't know”, Iago mumbled and he looked worried. Scared. That shattered Jameson's heart. He picked up the kid, careful to not let him fall or break the ceiling. “Thank you”, the infant wrapped his hands around his neck, not letting go. Gigi was very embarrassed. “I couldn't get him off, he didn't hear me.” Jameson was so confused on why she was still at the hospital, at 4 am, drinking coffee. But all he did was to shrug, “They don't hear me too.” And they walked back to his brothers only to found Nash dancing with them. God has favorites, he thought.

8:00 am

Ten minutes later they arrived at Hawthorne House and Jameson dropped dead on his bed. After taking off the makeup, clown clothes and the leather pant, obviously. But his body naturally woke him up at 7:45, and he couldn't get any sleep after that. And that's why he was on the roof when he heard steps. “You put out quite a show to the kids.” It was Grayson talking.“The hospital called, asking if you're going to visit again.” Not a chance in hell. He liked the kids—actually, loved them— but he couldn't handle them all at once. It was draining. Grayson knew it, that's why he was smirking, almost showing a smile. “You know”, Jameson started, “that I only didn't pick up because my phone had died?” It was basically his way of saying that, if he knew that Grayson was calling, that he needed him, he would appear in seconds. And he always would. Despite all the offenses, the teasing and the fights, Jameson would walk through hell for Grayson. He knew that, and Grayson would do the same. If all that it took to make him laugh, smile or to just take the weight off his shoulders a bit was to see Jameson dressed up as a clown, he would do it a hundred times. And he would do it over and over, no just because “that's what brothers do”, but because that's what you do when you love someone—you show them your love and loyalty. 911 wasn't just a simple code, it was meant to their brothers know how much they loved and appreciated each other, even though sometimes they have a hard time telling or showing it. Jameson knew the meaning behind this simple code, and it would kill him if Grayson thought that Jameson didn't care for his older brother. They all cared for each other, that's what made them the Hawthorne brothers. Not just the DNA because, when you grow up between the Hawthornes, you couldn't care less for biology. “I know,” Grayson replied, and his tone gave something else. Of course, I know, but I won't go deep into it right now, he seemed to say. So they just stood there, watching the sun and enjoying each other's company, without admitting it.

#jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the inheritance games #xander hawthorne #best seller books #books and reading #fanfic #fanfiction #gigi grayson

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suckerforprettyboys · 4 months

Text

illicit affairs- g.hawthorne

in which a simple interview starts fierce rumors of a secret romance.

wc: 1.3K

my inbox is open for requests! xoxo

The backstage room was cloaked in an awkward silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the camera and make-up crew doing their last minute touches. You, a well known and respected interviewer, were sitting patiently waiting for your interviewee to enter the room. You had your papers neatly stacked, hair perfectly set how you liked it, and a bright smile ready.

Interviews were nothing new for you, it was quite literally your job, but today’s interview would be rather difficult in comparison to the usual interviews. You were interviewing a well known businessman and entrepreneur, the heir to the Hawthorne fortune: Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

Your mind is sucked from your thoughts as the door swings open, a rather annoyed and stoic looking Grayson straightening up his suit. He walks over, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

“Grayson Hawthorne, pleased to meet you,” he introduces himself, not even cracking a smile.

You introduce yourself as well, presenting a sweet smile to go along with your words. He just stares at you, unimpressed, almost looking bored.

“Oh boy, he seems like a joy” you think to yourself, not letting the negativity of your thoughts slip into your kind and warm demeanor.

As the two of you settle into the interview space, the atmosphere grows increasingly frosty and tense. Grayson was clearly not in the mood to answer any hard hitting questions today, answering with the most vague responses possible. This left you to navigate through a maze of one-worded answers and dismissive gestures.

It soon became evident that this interview would be a test of your ability to crack the enigma that was Grayson Hawthorne.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and you pressed on, determined to unravel the layers of the unyielding celebrity. Little did they know, this encounter would become a battle of wits, a dance between an interviewer seeking to break through his icy demeanor and a stubborn man determined to maintain his impenetrable facade.

Despite the obvious tension in the room, you continue on with your hard hitting questions, determined to get something out of Grayson Hawthorne. The air hung heavy, each question met with unspoken challenges and calculated responses. Grayson wasn’t a lot in your eyes, but the bastard was good.

In a subtle shift, you decide to take a less business approach to the questions and quite beating around the bush.

“So,” You smile sneakily, leaning forward as you fold your hands in your lap. “The Heiress, Ms. Grambs. Any comments on her you would like the world to know, or are you gonna shut this topic down too?” You smirk to yourself as you see a slight glimmer in his eye from your boldness. Maybe it was just the set lights that hit his perfect face just right, but you knew damn well he had something to say from the way he brightened up ever so slightly.

“No comment.” He says coldly, shifting in his chair. He crossed one leg of the other in your direction, body language indicating his slight interest in your approach to the questioning.

He didn’t trust you, but he was opening up. Ever so slightly.

You smile warmly, laughing softly to try and clear the atmosphere. “Well folks, there’s your answer.” You turn back towards Grayson, looking him straight in the eyes as if willing him to give you something, anything. “Not to sound too forward, but you are a very handsome and wealthy young man. You have stated in previous interviews that, and I quote, ‘dating is not your thing, never has been and won’t be for the foreseeable future if you can help it,” You smile sneakily once again.

“Does that still apply, or has a special someone changed your perspective on that?”

Grayson goes slightly stiff at your words. You take note of this, deciding that this would be that last romance question in an attempt to get him to feel comfortable.

“I stand by the previous statements made regarding that particular topic.” He says, unfazed and bored.

You lean back in your seat, uncrossing you legs and sighing, “Mr. Hawthorne, you are one tough cookie to crack.” You laugh, smiling sweetly at him. “I assume privacy is one of the things you value most?”

“Yes, it is.” He nods, but gives no other indication of emotions.

Bingo. You’ve gotten him to talk. And you are running with it.

You smile, locking eyes with him again, “And is there any particular situation that made that choice set in stone? Or has that just been something you’ve always lived by?” You watch his eyes flicker with something, but you aren’t sure what.

“I grew up watching what the media had done to family members and the little bit they showed the press and chose to just steer clear indefinitely. It is better to avoid a burning building and wonder what would have happened then to walk in and burn.” He folds his hands in his lap, re-cuffing the sleeves.

You smile from ear to ear, overjoyed that he had gotten out more than a few words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“You never had to.” Grayson cuts in, expression cold. It was clear this was a sensitive topic, so you decide not to push any farther.

“I suppose I never did, my sympathy to those who found out the hard way.” You nod. Then, as if nothing had happened, your bright smile is back.

“Alright, Mr. Hawthorne. I believe that is all the questions I have for today.” You shake his hand again, thanking him for coming out and saying goodbye to your audience. Grayson gets up immediately, looking as if he was fighting to leave the room.

You choose to ignore it, speaking with the camera crew and production team as the wrap up.

---

Less than a half hour later you are walking back to your dressing room, a nagging feeling in your cut. You feel guilty, not sure for what, but the feeling is there non the less.

“Fuck it,” You think to yourself, heading towards the guest dressing room.

You knock on the door. No response.

“Hello?” You call out, only to be met with no response once again. You continue to knock for a few more minutes, ear pressed to the door for any indication of life on the other side of the door.

Eventually, a staff member finds you looking like a creep with your ear pressed to the door. She tells you that Grayson was on his way to his limo and he was quite grumpy. At this news your stomach drops, concerned that you had been the root of his unhappiness.

You weren’t sure why that particular fact bothered you.

You intercept him outside on the way to his car, hand waving in the air to catch his attention.

“Mr. Hawthorne!” You yell, causing him to turn. His eyes narrow, brows furrowing as he looks down at you.

“Hi,” You smile, slightly out of breath from chasing him down. “Can I speak with you for a quick second?”

Grayson glances back at his bodyguard, giving a silent signal in the form of a nod. He steps off to the side, nodding at you stiffly.

“Quickly.” He spits out rather rudely.

“I wanted to apologize.” You say softly, eyes locked on his to show your genuine intention.

This catches Grayson off guard, “Apologize for what exactly?” He slightly quirks a brow, still peering down at you.

“For overstepping the boundaries of the interview. The description of the question I sent your agent had nothing to do with personal life or romance and it was inappropriate of me to ask such things of a total stranger.” You ramble, talking with your hands, the complete opposite from your shiny and perfect interviewer persona.

Grayson just nods stiffly at you once again, offering no answer as you continue on.

“I’ll have the production team cut anything other than strictly business conversation or we can cut the interview entirely if you wish.”

“No need.” He says quietly. “Just cut the things not described in the papers sent to my agent and myself.”

You let out a sigh of relief, smiling at him “Thank you so much, Mr. Hawthorne”

“Grayson.” He cuts you off. “Just Grayson is ok. Mr. Hawthorne makes me sound old.” He says curtly, turning to leave.

You just stand there as he gets in the limo, waving stiffly at you. Your eyes follow the limo as it leaves, confused as to what had just happened.

The picks up, causing you to shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. The shutter of a camera catches your attention in the distance. A group of maybe 3 paparazzi were huddled behind a group of bushes, holding their cameras in your direction.

You offer a sweet and warm smile, waving at them as they flick a few more pictures before walking off. You simply shrug, heading back inside for the warmth of the building.

Weird.

---

Later that evening, you were finishing up with the production team getting the right clips in the right order and making everything look amazing.

“Ok, guys. Looks great!” You smile proudly, thanking your team for all their great work throughout the day. The sound of your name being called catches your attention, causing you to turn.

Your eyes land on your agent, peeking her head through the door and asking to speak with you outside. You nod, slightly confused, and follow her into the small hallway.

She looks at you with an odd look, “How are we gonna clean this up?” She says.

“Clean up what?” You laugh nervously, “What happened?”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, telling you to check your phone. You furrow your brows in confusion, pulling out your phone.

The second you laid eyes on it the screen glows with an endless amount of notifications: texts, dm’s, emails, and missed phone calls. Out of curiosity you click on one of the emails, leading you to an article link.

Hawthorne Heir Apparent and Heart-throb Grayson Hawthorne Spotted with Well-Known Interviewer and Possible New Girlfriend, and the cover was a picture of you and Grayson speaking in the parking lot.

Your stomach drops, “Shit.”

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the hawthorne brothers #fanfic #taylor swift

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 23 days

Note

Grayson hawthorne x fem!readers period comfort?

Love you <3 !

Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

A/N: Love you too! And thank you for the request!

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

You groaned in pain as another cramp shot waves of pain throughout your lower abdomen. Grayson pulled you in even tighter to his chest. He kept a hand on your lower stomach, softly massaging.

You sighed into his arms. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you nuzzled your head into his shoulder. He softly kissed the top of your head.

"Do you want me to go get you anything?" He murmured softly. If you were able to see his face, you would have been able to see the concern was very visible. He cared deeply for you.

You shook your head, "No, just want you." You mumbled against his skin.

Grayson smiled before kissing the top of your head again. He moved his hands to softly rub your lower back. He hates seeing you like this.

"I love you," He mumbled against your hair. He didn't want you to feel like a burden. He knew how your mind got when your hormones were running like this.

You smiled against his skin before pulling back to look at him. Despite the pain in your stomach, he made it all better. Anything was easier to handle with Grayson at your side.

"I love you too," You said softly before once again, curling into his side. He pulled you onto his chest easily, and resumed rubbing your back gently.

The scent of his cologne, the one he got from you for his last birthday, filled your senses as you buried your head into the area between his neck and shoulder. It brought a smile to your face.

It was difficult for you to understand what you had done to deserve him. He always treated you perfectly no matter what. He was always patient when you weren't feeling the best. He was perfect.

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

A/N: Sorry it's so short!

#grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne fanfiction #the inheritance games fanfic #the inheritance games #the inheritance games imagine

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cherryschaos · 4 months

Text

Thoughts on Jameson Hawthorne x Street racer!Reader?

#jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne and his traffic cones #xander hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the inheritance games #avery grambs #the hawthorne legacy #libby grambs #the inheritance games fanfic #the hawthorne brothers #the brothers hawthorne

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cherrys-writings · 8 months

Note

More grayson smut pleaseee!!

Thanks for being patient! I always want it to be PERFECT

Grayson Hawthorne x Flower, Grayson Hawthorne x Reader

Put Them to Better Use

Warnings: explicate sexual content, light bondage, unprotected sex

I was so nonchalant when I said I wanted to put his ties to better use. Grayson almost dropped his camera before I could elaborate, “I want to show you how much I appreciate you, Little Prince.”

A few conversations later, I had him totally vulnerable, wrists bound above his head. He leans into my touch when I cup his cheek, kissing my palm. I lean down gently pressing my lips to his, I pull away before he can deepen the kiss, resting my forehead against his.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” I nipped at his ear, “tell me what you need, Little Prince.”

Grayson was suddenly interested in the color of the tie around his wrists, his haunting eyes looking anywhere except me. I scoot closer to him, gently guiding his face to meet my gaze.

“Talk to me Gray. Do you want me to untie you?”

“No,” he whispered, “I just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

I kiss his shy smile, “I wanna make you feel good. All you do is let go, Little Prince. Does that sound good to you?” Grayson nodded eagerly, “Yes. Please.”

“And what do you do if something doesn’t feel good?”

“I say fire.”

My fingertips ghost down his body, inching closer to his already hard cock. He sucks in a breath when my teeth graze the curve of his neck, tilting his neck for more. I reach to the nightstand, plucking an ice cube from the glass. Grayson tenses, then lets out a low chuckle at the map the melting ice left on his torso, outlining his abs. I trace his V-cut, not daring to touch where he needs me quite yet, while kissing and licking the water drops left on his stomach. Gray groans impatiently, wiggling his hips with a pout, the sound going straight to my core. My eyes never stray from his face as I reach down to gently tug his balls. Grayson’s eyebrows furrow, sighing.

I trace the underside of his shaft with my other hand, “This is what you needed, isn't it my Little Prince?”

“Mmhmm,” Gray’s only response, hips chasing my hand.

I swipe my thumb across his tip, savoring the hiss that leaves him and move to lay between his legs, before slowly taking his length in my mouth. A satisfied rumble emits from his chest when I start moving up and down. Moaning when he touches the back of my throat.

“My god, Flower,” he gasps, squirming for me to take him as deeply as I can.

Swirling my tongue across his slit and sucking hard at his tip, I relish in every sound that leaves him and relax my jaw. Staring into his lust blown eyes as I take him into my throat, tears blurring my vision when I give an experimental swallow. Grayson clutches the ties around his wrists, chest heaving. My hand slips into my panties, the groans he lets out only increasing the ach between my legs.

“You look so pretty like this,” his heels dig into the mattress, fucking my face, “don’t fucking stop.”

I feel him twitch in my mouth and whine, begging him to cum. Grayson presses his head into the pillows, his hips jerk upward, stuttering. I can’t make out what he says between moans, swallowing his spend. Finally, I pull off him, kissing his tip once more.

“Shit, darling,” he gasped

I crawl up his body, settling on my knees beside him, “you taste so good Grayson.”

I lean down, pressing my lips to his. His tongue slides across mine and a groan rumbles through his chest to the ache between my legs. I bite his lip and move to suckle his ear. Nipping and sucking the spot just under it until there's a dark purple spot identical to the ones on his collarbones, my hand wandering to massage his sac. Grayson lets out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed, allowing himself to just feel; his large hands still gripping the restraints. My fingers ghost over the spot just behind his balls, his mouth falls open and my hand drags up the underside of his length already hard again. Grayson shifts his hips at the agonizingly slow strokes of my hand.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groans, “More. Please, Flower. Need more.”

Gray bites his lip, stifling a whimper as I lick his tip before stopping altogether. I shimmy out of my soaked panties and straddle his leg, letting him feel how my body responds to him. I continue stroking him, resisting the urge to rub myself against him. Grayson, in tune with my every desire, he bends his knee suddenly, knocking me forward, my free hand landing on his chest. I let out a surprised squeak, “Gray! Just let me take care of you.”

“You know how much I love it when you rub your dripping cunt all over me.”

I give in just a little, rocking against his thigh, still focused on slow strokes, occasionally brushing my thumb across his leaking tip. The dark groan he lets out tells me exactly what he’s thinking about. I let my hand work just a little faster and kiss his shoulder.

“Bet you can’t wait to be buried deep inside me, Little Prince.”

He nods, breath hitching.

“I love all the sounds you make when you let me have my way with you,” I murmur against his skin, “maybe I should keep you like this all the time. Spread out for me to play with whenever I want.”

Grayson’s close again, his eyes closed tight. I sit back, working him closer and closer to the edge, stopping before he can climax. His icy eyes fly open, sputtering and gasping. I caress his face, hushing him, a devious smile on my lips as I line him up with my entrance. I take him all at once, slamming down on him.

“OH MY GOD,” Gray yells, my walls fluttering around him.

I don’t let up, relentlessly fucking myself on him. Leaning back to rest my hands on his thighs, breasts bouncing with my movements. Grayson’s eyes flick between where we’re joined and my tits, savoring the show. I throw my head back, moaning at how deep I can feel him, hitting the spot that sends lightning though my body. I’m clenching him so tightly I know neither of us will last much longer. My thighs are trembling and I’m so close I can almost taste it. Then waves of pleasure are crashing over me, breath coming in short gasps and catching in my throat. Grayson’s hot spurts coat my still pulsing walls, his moans laden with swearing and arms shaking from how tightly he fisted the restraints. He looks up at me, glassy eyed and I wipe the single tear that ran down his cheek, smiling.

We slide apart and Gray watches with wide eyes as I untie his wrists, gently massaging and kissing them. He sits up, taking a bottle of water from my hands. I card my fingers through his hair as he drinks, showering his head and shoulders in kisses, pulling him into my arms when he’s done.

“I really like that,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you do, Little Prince. Can we go get you cleaned up?”

Grayson tucks his head under my chin, sighing, “In a little bit.”

#grayson hawthorne smut #grayson hawthorne #SuitsSconesandSerendipity #the inheritance games #grayson hawthorne x reader #nash hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fic #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne fluff #the hawthorne legacy #avery grambs #libby grambs #fanfiction #the hawthorne brothers #the inheritance games fanfic

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mafiasliege · 20 days

Text

I dare you to let me go

(This is part 1 of my Jameson x Avery/angst fanfiction. I love Avery and Jameson but there's little to no angst fics of them so I'm writing this. Also, like I said, I'm an Avery defender but I'm tired of reading all the fics out there where it's all Jamie in the wrong. So anyway I'm done ranting, enjoy reading!)

JAMESON

Jameson was greeted with a cool breeze as he stepped outside the elevator into the foyer of the top floor of the building. It'd been quite some time since Avery started her own foundation named after her mother, but she didn't get a building for it until a while ago, which explained the unnatural shine of the place that only new things had. Like putting on a brand new fake smile.

Like right now.

Once upon a time, Avery had made Jameson forget what fake-smiling felt like. Every smile was real.

But that was a long time ago. Now it was only a fading memory he wanted and, at the same time, didn't, want to forget. He clutched the take-out bag tighter, as if they'd slip out of his hand due to how lost in thought he was.

You're fine. You're totally fine.

He didn't snap out of it until he got to Avery's office and knocked lightly. It was always very quiet on the top floor. Only the directors, Grayson, and Avery were allowed up here, the floors down below had the same loud chatter any other business building had. Avery's introverted side was one of the few things that stayed consistent over the years.

"Come in!" Avery yelled. Jameson stepped inside and saw her- face hidden behind the laptop screen, desk clad in papers, and empty coffee mugs- and sat on the chair infront of her. He plunked down the take-out bag from Avery's favourite restaurant.

"Oh thank you, Jameson. You didn't have to come all the way here though, you could've just sent it here with someone" she said, with what seemed like genuine gratefulness.

"I could've, but that would've marked the 12th meal this week that you hadn't had at home."

He said and smiled. He smiled now like he used to when he met Avery for the first time. Not that she noticed. How could she with all that work hogging her mind?

"I know, and I'm sorry. I've been too occupied. Turns out there's a whole pile of public proposals we hadn't received. Now I have to-" she carried on ranting while opening the take-out box. Jameson just listened to her fondly while eating too. He loved this side of her.

And yet.

And yet he felt so far away from her, like there was this massive, sprawling distance between them. When had it become like this?

Stop. Stop thinking about it. You're fine.

After they were done eating, Jameson pulled out a card and kept it on her desk.

"I brought this for someone turning 22 tomorrow. Have you seen her?" He said in a playful tone.

"I might have." Just as she was about to pick it up, Avery got a call and had to go to the floor below. She gave him a perfunctory kiss and ran left.

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

"This has to be the most romantic rooftop dinner plan ever," said Lyra. Although the newest addition to the Hawthorne family, Grayson's girlfriend Lyra Kane had grown on them all a lot in the last few years. He wouldn't admit it, but he really liked being family friends frenemies with her. She was infuriating, in a good way, just like Grayson. Perhaps that's why they got together in the first place.

The rooftop; complete with glowing fairy lights, roses everywhere, Avery's favourite cuisine, and wine, of course; was missing one thing- one person. His riddle for her had been fairly simple, too simple for her. She should've been out of work and here by now.

She'll come.

"You got her palm fruit?" Lyra asked, slightly weirded out, "nice. After eating the palm fruit, maybe she'll let you palm her-"

"Stop right there" Jameson held up a finger and gave her a look.

"Alright. No palm fruit puns for you. See you tomorrow. Have fun!" she drawled dramatically as she climbed down the ladder back into the house.

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

12:18.

It was 12:18 am. 18 minutes past midnight and over four hours past the time Avery was supposed to come.

Maybe she's stuck in traffic, he thought as he drowned the rest of his wine. After everything was ready, he started drinking a little to pass the time. He was used to waiting for Avery by now. The unopened wine bottle was a great vintage, Avery liked it a lot. He had brought it up there unopened, now it was almost empty.

"Hey," came a low, sweet voice. Avery's voice would've sounded sweeter in that moment. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't her.

"Avery texted. She had to fly to New York. She can't come back in time. I'm sorry."

She isn't coming.

The realisation hit him like a kick in the gut. Jameson sighed. "You're leaving something out, Lyra, and I'm way too drunk and way too tired to guess what it is. Spill."

"She told me she's going to make it up to you."

Ah, well.

She may as well have told him pigs can fly.

That's how much of a lie it was. Just another formality. How many times had she said it before?

"Why'd you get Avery palm fruit anyway?" She asked, trying to change the subject.

"She loved it on our last trip to Indonesia"

"Four years ago" she said, no, whispered it, "that was over four years ago. You know, when you actually spent time together."

She stared at him silently while he was searching for an answer. She wasn't wrong. Everyone knew that recently his relationship with avery had been… dry, Lyra just had the guts to say it, unlike his brothers.

"I'm fine. We're totally fine." He finally said, got up and started climbing down the ladder.

"Okay. Sure. Keep lying to yourself. But tell me this, how many times have you had your heart broken over the last five years?"

Jameson swallowed.

"I don't know."

#tig fanfic #averyjameson #jameson x avery #the inheritance games #the grandest game #tig #jameson hawthorne #avery grambs #the brothers hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne

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rosietrace · 27 days

Text

Elias Jones

⊱────────────────────⊰

⊱───────────────⊰

Second Oc for my Inheritance Games fanfiction, I wouldn't marry Me, either

Face Claim: TBA

⊱───────────────⊰

Full Name ; Elias Bouchard Jones

Nicknames : Eli (Veronica, Alisa), Prince Charming, Elias Darling, ‘Lias, Lie (Nash)

Age : 26 (January 18th, Aquarius ♒)

Occupation : Lawyer for McNamara, Ortega, and Jones || Employer in the Hawthorne Foundation

Height : 167 cm

Color Palette : Honey Yellow, Black, Varying shades of Brown

° • ° • ° • ° • °

PERSONALITY

Elias is... Well, he's like an older Jameson with a bit more of a Broadway flair to him. In a way, Elias was one of the many influences in Jameson's life that made him turn out the way he is.

Elias goes with the flow, unafraid of taking risks because, as a wise old man once told him, “You only live once”; and he happened to take that advice to heart.

Though he and Jameson share their similarities, Elias is less impulsive and reckless when it comes to making decisions with high risks— while he understands that he wants to live his life to the fullest, the little boy in his heart can't help but let paranoia overtake his decision-making every once in a while.

RELATIONSHIPS

Alisa Ortega — Close friends, and a fellow colleague! Elias met Alisa through Veronica, as well as the three's parents working together; while the trio aren't attached to the hip, they still care about each other a great deal.

Veronica McNamara(Oc) — Also close friends! During Elias' third year at Yale University, he met Veronica, who was a freshman at the time; thanks to their parents' partnership and them being coworkers at the same law firm, they've been closer than ever!

Nash Hawthorne — Mixed bag of feelings, the two of them. Nash trusts Elias well enough, but he can tell that Elias — in a similar vein to Nash's own brothers — had been influenced by his grandfather into being the way he is now. Elias has a hard time getting along with Nash due to, in Xander's words, his ‘unresolved grandaddy issues’; with it only amplifying tenfold when Nash and Alisa broke things off.

Jameson Hawthorne — Big influence in Jameson's life. They didn't interact much when Jameson was growing up, but the interactions they had sort of shaped Jamie into being who he is in the present day; in both good and bad ways. Mostly bad, on the part of Jameson's recklessness

Avery Kylie Grambs — Although he technically works for her, Elias doesn't interact much with Avery, which is a given as unlike Alisa, he isn't Avery's personal attorney.

TRIVIA

LIKES : 80s movies, thrifting, horseback riding, earrings, gossip

DISLIKES : Skye Hawthorne, Veronica and Alisa's caffeine addiction, overtime, movie remakes

HOBBIES : Movie marathoning, visiting clothing thrift shops, learning how to crochet, horseback riding

He, for some reason, does not like Skye Hawthorne and who can blame him /j /j

According to Veronica, Elias gives out the best hugs! (Xander confirmed her claims when Elias comforted him around the time Emily died, and his friendship with Rebecca and Thea seemed fell apart)

He jokingly flirts with Veronica and especially Alisa to garner a reaction from Mr. Ortega and Mr. McNamara 😭 (Nash too, but shhh)

He has the hospital on speed dial in case Veronica and/or Alisa collapse from being over caffeinated 💀💀 of the three, he's the only one with a seemingly normal sleep schedule and work ethic

Elias wanted Veronica to adopt a cat instead of a dog, but when she adopted her dog Heather, he adopted a cat out of spite (Alisa has no idea why they're like this)

He studied in Yale University and met Veronica during his third year! Elias majored in Computer and Information sciences, while minoring in interdisciplinary studies

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thelov3lybookworm · 2 months

Text

Mine?

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

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehe

•○🌑○•

Grayson sighed, rubbing at his brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This was a mistake."

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

Heard her heart shattering.

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

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

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

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

•○🌑○•

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n."

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

"Grayson?"

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

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

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

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

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

Pick up a baby.

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

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

Grayson also knew he had been her first time.

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

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

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

"Mine?"

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

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

Mine?

Mine.

•○🌑○•

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

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