hey!!! somehow you ended up here, and i’m glad you want to know more about me and my works ❣️
i hope you’ll stay for a little while, and help me become a better writer, by giving reblogs and comments ( praising as well as constructive criticism are highly appreciated), but overall even likes make me a bit more motivated, so give me anything, just to know that you’re here!
since I do not have a lot of works (hopefully it will change) I do not plan on doing taglist yet, but let me know if you’re interested
kind of disclaimer; the navigation is going to be updated every time I decide to organise something here, but don’t expect a lot from me pls, I’m a lazy student that has trouble with priorities and working productively
Hello everyone, I’m still not over Grayson 😔 so in an attempt to cope with it I started writing a fanfiction about him.
It’s not here, it’s on AO3 because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to post it and I want it to be quite lengthy
Summary: Grayson Hawthorne doesn't believe in "play." Isabela Kaminski doesn't believe in "perfection."
When Isa begins teaching English at Hawthorne House, she enters a world where every word is a weapon and every look is a test. She’s a linguist who can speak four languages, but none of them prepared her for Grayson. He's cold, calculated, and convinced she’s a distraction.
He wants results. She wants to be seen. In a couple of lessons, they might just find a way to speak the same language.
——
I hope it’s not lame and that you don’t care that it not might be 100% accurate universe-wise. I just wanted to write something that gives me joy and comfort :).
And also there’s a link to my questionnaire so if you haven’t already done that please fill it out I need a couple more responses for my MA thesis.
But first, the link to fanfiction called “Lessons in love.”
Hi guys, I'm writing my MA thesis on proverbs in The Inheritance Games (only book one) and I want to find out if you paid attention to them while reading the book.
I'm interested in their meaning and significance and I need answers from people who have read the book in English.
It will only take a few minutes to fill it out and you'd have my endless love and appreciation x.
Here's the link:
Purpose: This questionnaire explores the use and perception of proverbs in The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. It examines how th
If you know someone else who might have read the book in english, please share the link with them too!
Hi guys, I'm writing my MA thesis on proverbs in The Inheritance Games (only book one) and I want to find out if you paid attention to them while reading the book.
I'm interested in their meaning and significance and I need answers from people who have read the book in English.
It will only take a few minutes to fill it out and you'd have my endless love and appreciation x.
Here's the link:
Purpose: This questionnaire explores the use and perception of proverbs in The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. It examines how th
If you know someone else who might have read the book in english, please share the link with them too!
A showgirl knows to save some of her best tricks for the grand finale…
The Life of a Showgirl: The Crowd is Your King Edition on Summertime Spritz Pink Shimmer Vinyl is available to pre-order now exclusively at @Target while supplies last ❤️🔥
PS: we’re 9️⃣ days away(!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Album Producers: Max Martin, Shellback and Taylor Swift
📸: Mert Alas, Marcus Piggott & TAS Rights Management
Hi! As promised, I've written a fanfic of your choice, which was Grayson Hawthorne x Lyra Kane.
I've never written about this pair (or The Inheritance Games) before, so I hope that I somehow captured the vibes and the tone.
This fanfic is set right after GR so if you haven't finished the book yet, this is your last warning! Please read the book and come back here later, xoxo.
synopsis: this is just about two fools who started dating and don't know how to navigate their relationship in the middle of the post game mess.
Title: Greenlight (Lorde played in my head while writing, so...)
If anyone has some requests please sent them to me!!! I really want to get back to writing and I have some free time (Plus, I would love to write more about Grayson)
+ Please please leave sth so that I know you were here! Everything is appreciated and keeps me motivated.
FIC is below the cut.
Although participating in the game was not particularly easy, Grayson found himself constantly thinking of this event. It had some positive impact on him, but unfortunately, not everyone could say that.
And because of these problems that have arisen lately, he realized that he could not feel happy. Not yet. He had to be there, for his brothers, for his family, even when they were not particularly fond of his help.
He found himself stuck between rock and a hard place. These circumstances did not allow him to feel fully, to let all his feelings out. And he was angry. He thought that he was making progress at the therapy.
Maybe he did. But now, he was feeling a lot of things. He wanted to strangle one of his brothers, but he also wanted to beg him to let him in, again. He did not like the feeling of being left out and dismissed by his own family. It just did not sit right with him.
The game was over and now he had to come back to reality. But it felt different, somehow. Sure, his relationship with his family – especially with Jameson – has always been rocky, but these days his brother seemed to hold everything against him.
Was this personal? Did Jameson not want Grayson to be happy?
These thoughts lingered in his mind, despite his will to focus on something else. Stay composed, be rational and of use. You can help indirectly, you’ve always found some ways to do that.
And that is what he did. He lost himself in papers, in investigating, hiring people in hopes that he could do something. Something that would make Jameson notice that Grayson was on his side.
But there was another reason why Grayson was so eager to help. Why he felt this desperate need to work, to exert himself in some ways.
He has been thinking about Lyra a lot. She just couldn’t leave his mind, not even for a second.
Spending time with her, playing the Game with her – even though she didn’t win – made him realise that there was more to life than his family. That maybe, just maybe he could have someone. His own person. Be with someone who was scared and confused, just like he was. But they could be like that together. And they could figure things out.
The game was over, and while Grayson would be happy to keep her in the Hawthorne House, to keep her with him, he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. But he asked her to stay close, just for a couple of days. He even paid for the hotel and was visiting her right after he finished work.
But it was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Wanting to spend time with someone, like, all the time.
Grayson’s mind was a battle. He knew that he had feelings for Lyra and he was rationalizing them by convincing himself that it all started earlier, when she called him. That he felt something immediately and it was building up until he saw her. It made a lot of sense.
There was also another part of Grayson thinking that he was borderline insane. He didn’t want to beat himself up, not after the progress he has made. But once he went back to his normal life, and she wasn’t constantly by his side, he started analysing things.
I made this mistake before. I fell too hard and too fast. What have I done? Why have I declared that I want her to be a part of my family? It was too soon. For someone so intelligent and educated, I’m a freaking moron.
Communication was not something that Grayson excelled at. He prided himself in saying the right things, of dealing with things through words (and actions, if needed). And now he knew that he opened up and was vulnerable.
It felt liberating, in a way. He knew that he wanted to do that, that he wanted to let someone in. And he stopped telling himself that he needed to be perfect in order to be in a relationship. He just wanted to be with someone, and he thought that he found the right person.
But she was a bolter. She was running away from her feelings or when things were overwhelming her. What if he messed up by being this clingy and open? He needed to get a grip.
And that was why he promised himself to tone it down. To give her some space and be nonchalant about this. He could do that.
She should probably go home and reunite with her family. He didn’t want to overwhelm her again. But he also wanted to keep an eye on her, especially since not everything game-adjacent has been solved.
It is not that he ghosted her and stopped replying to her completely. Or that he stopped seeing her after a couple of days. No, he wouldn’t do that. He was interested in her, after all.
But his replies were less and less frequent. And he sounded dry. He was telling himself that it was because he was busy and they needed to figure it out. And his family needed to accept the fact that Grayson wanted to have something, someone, for himself. Just once.
He would give them time. He could be patient. But it was driving him crazy, the fact that he couldn’t have everything. That life wasn’t just simple and sweet and perfect.
Lyra: Have you finished work yet?
Lyra: I’m bored in this little hotel of yours.
Lyra: Is everything okay?
He should reply to her texts, he knew that. Especially since he was supposed to leave work half an hour ago. But his mind was spinning and he needed answers. Answers that he couldn’t get.
So instead of being half an hour late, he showed up at her hotel room nearly three hours past when he said he would. And to put it mildly, things were already unravelling.
She opened the door slowly, reluctantly – like she’d debated not opening it at all.
His gaze locked instantly on the packed suitcase by the bed.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” His voice was even, but tight. Too tight.
Lyra didn’t answer. She turned away and kept moving around the room, her movements sharp and erratic – folding a shirt that didn’t need folding, rearranging things that were already in place. Pretending she was busy and unbothered.
“I’m flying back home,” she said finally, not facing him. Just stating it like it was inevitable. Like she hadn’t been texting him hours ago.
Grayson stepped forward, cutting off her path to the door. “You’re what?”
“I said I’m leaving,” she repeated, more forcefully now. Still not looking at him.
He reached out, almost without thinking – his hand brushing the back of her neck, a familiar move meant to calm her. Anchor her.
She flinched. She pulled away and didn’t lean into his touch.
He dropped his hand like it burned him.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” he asked quietly, trying to sound calm. It came out strangled.
Lyra finally turned to him, her eyes bright and tired and furious all at once. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Lyra –” He started, but he wasn’t sure how to explain himself. He was aware that he was at fault. But he also believed that his reasons were valid.
“No. You don’t get to play the concerned card now. You barely text me back. You act like you're doing me a favour by stopping by. And then when I try to get some distance, you show up like this – as if I'm supposed to just wait around like a loyal little placeholder until your life gets easier.”
“That’s not fair,” he said sharply. “You know it's not fair.”
“What’s not fair is sitting in this hotel, in a city that isn’t mine, in a life that isn’t mine, waiting for you to decide if I’m worth fighting for.”
Grayson felt something crack open in his chest, sharp and stinging.
“You think I’m not fighting?” His voice rose despite himself. “I’m doing everything I can to keep my family from falling apart. I’m trying to keep you safe. I thought you understood that.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “You think assigning security to my door is the same as showing up for me?”
“I did show up.”
“Three hours late.”
“I was trying to fix this!”
“You’re not fixing us, Grayson,” she said, suddenly quiet. “You’re just managing me. Like I’m a problem you don’t want to admit you created.”
Silence hung between them – heavy and hot and hollow.
Then he said, low and bitter, “I let you in. I don’t do that. And now you’re punishing me for not doing it perfectly?”
Lyra’s eyes burned. “No. I’m punishing myself for thinking I could handle being with someone who’s giving me mixed signals. You’re not the same as during the game, Grayson. You pulled me in, made me feel like this meant something. And now you’re acting like I imagined all of it.”
That stopped him. Like a gut punch.
“I never –”
“Yes, you did,” she snapped, then softened as her eyes met his – really met them – for the first time that night. “You pulled away. You went cold. And I told myself you needed space. I made excuses. But you weren’t pulling away to breathe. You were pulling away from me.”
“I’m scared,” he said, voice barely audible. Honest. Shaking.
“You think I’m not?” she asked. “This is messy. It’s confusing. But I stayed. I stayed because you asked me to. Because you looked me in the eye and told me I mattered.”
She exhaled hard. “But I’m not going to keep sitting in this room waiting for you to make up your mind. You would never do that – not for me. And deep down, you know it.” It pained her to tell these words. Because she has heard them before. How he wouldn’t choose her. And she didn’t want to believe it.
She paused. Just for a moment. And her voice dropped, quieter now. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Grayson. I’m asking you to try. With me. Or not at all.”
Grayson didn’t move.
Her words settled in the space between them like a challenge. Like a test.
He looked at her, paying attention to the details, to the face of the person that captured his heart. The flushed cheeks. The glassy eyes. The stiff way she held herself, like if she let go for even a second, she’d shatter.
“I am trying,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t always know how to do it right.”
Lyra blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.
“Then tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me that this wasn’t just the Game. That it wasn’t just… adrenaline and isolation and proximity.”
He stepped closer. Slowly. Deliberately.
“It wasn’t,” he said. “It still isn’t.”
His hand hovered by her face, but he didn’t touch her yet – not until she leaned into it first. When she did, he cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing just beneath her eye. His other hand went to her hair, brushing it slowly, just like he has done before.
“I don’t want to be the guy who pulls away,” he said. “I want to be the guy who stays. Who shows up. For you.”
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her eyes closed, and she leaned forward – just barely – but it was enough.
He kissed her.
It was slow at first. Careful. Like they were both afraid of getting it wrong. But then she kissed him back with more urgency, hands grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him in like she didn’t want to let go again. She probably didn’t. He hoped that she didn’t.
And he let himself feel it – every ounce of guilt and want and hope and ache he’d been holding back.
When they finally pulled apart, foreheads still touching, he let out a shaky breath.
“Stay,” he murmured. “Just one more day. Let me prove I can get this right.”
Lyra exhaled against his lips.
“One more day,” she said. “But you have a day off tomorrow.”
Okay so I’ve been really inactive here (like really)
But I want more Grayson content 😔
So would anybody be interested in reading some angst? Grayson x y/n where he pulls away because he always falls so quickly and he tries to control it now
Or maybe it could be about lyrason and how their relationship progresses when he both wants so much and holds back because of being burned in the past!!!
I just feel so alive after reading gr so please help me come back to writing 🧡
as long as you're next to me - grayson hawthorne x reader
summary: grayson is sick, and you won't let him go another day trying to act like nothing is wrong.
wc: 1.5k
grayson hawthorne was many things—disciplined, composed, insufferably stubborn times—but he was not, under any circumstances, the kind of man who got sick and let it bother him.
it started with the small things. the way he rolled his shoulders a little too often, like he couldn’t quite shake off the tension. the way he'd sleep in a little longer. the way he opted for hot tea in the morning rather than his usual coffee. the way he didn't go for his swims.
he had been working all day, buried in contracts and numbers, refusing to acknowledge the way his body was practically begging him to stop.
you had watched him from the doorway, arms crossed, biting your lip as he powered through another set of emails with the kind of determination that would’ve been admirable if it weren’t so ridiculously self-destructive.
"grayson," you finally said, stepping into the room. "you need to take a break."
he cleared his throat, ceasing his typing for a moment. "i'm fine, sweetheart," he muttered, looking up from his screen momentarily, as if to assure you.
you sighed, walking up behind him and resting a hand on his shoulder. he was warm. too warm. but he barely reacted, just tensed slightly beneath your touch.
"just for a second," you tried again, softer this time. "please?"
he hesitated, then shut his laptop closed and got out of his chair, standing up and turning to meet you.
your eyes flickered all over his face— to his eyes that seemed heavier, and to his hair that he had clearly run his hands through many times.
you felt yourself frown as you brought the back of your hand up to his forehead, and felt that frown only deepen when you felt how high his temperature was.
"i promise you," he started upon seeing your evident worry. his voice was low, slightly hoarse, "i'm quite alright."
you ignored his claims, bringing your hand to your forehead just for good measure, seeing the difference. his brows furrowed as he watched you.
you went to put your hand back on his forehead, and it only confirmed your thoughts— he was definitely sick.
"oh my god, gray," you mumbled, your hand moving to one side of his cheek. "you're burning up. this is bad."
the corners of graysons lips turned up slightly, his expression softening.
he brought his own hand ontop of yours and took it off his face, but stayed holding it. "i admire your concern, truly." he said, raising his brows for a moment to emphasise it. "but, my love, i'm fine."
"oh shut up," you rolled your eyes, your hands going back to your sides as you huffed. "you and your ''i'm alright''s and "im fine"s. stop lying."
"sweetheart," he said through a chuckle, a hand moving to stroke your hair momentarily.
a plan— a test, suddenly went off in your mind.
you wrapped your arms around his neck. instinctively, his hands found your waist, but his brows knitted together ever so slightly. you wouldn't have caught it if you weren't so close.
"alright then." you mumbled, "you're fine, it's not that bad, and you're not sick." you tiptoed, leaning in to kiss him, and your lips were nearly touching — until he inhaled sharply and pulled away, turning his head to the side.
your test was working.
your pulled your face away from his again, eyes narrowed, a slow smile creeping onto your face. "grayson, why are you pulling away?"
grayson exhaled sharply through his nose, shutting his eyes like he was already regretting the decision. "because," he gritted out, "i can't kiss you."
you tilted your head to the side, biting back a laugh. "and why is that?"
his jaw tensed. you could practically see the internal battle, the way he was debating whether or not to keep up the facade.
ultimately, he sighed, resignation settling into his features. "...because," he started begrudgingly, one hand coming off of your waist and running it over his face. "i'm sick, and i don't want to spread it to you."
he studied your expression, and couldn't help but smile at the tiny proud grin on your face.
regardless, he didn't want to bother you with a little cold. perhaps it was more than a little, as he'd been sick for almost a week now, but you didn't need to know that.
he had things to do, work to get done, and he simply didn't want to be a burden to the person he loved so much. he shook his head slightly, "it's not—"
"—if you say 'it's not that bad' i will actually fight you." you told him, your expression ever-so-serious as you pointed at him. then a laugh escaped your lips when you saw his amused expression. "and you, grayson hawthorne, are in no condition to fight back."
his lips parted like he wanted to argue, but then you turned around, one hand holding his, and dragged him behind you. his body betrayed him and his internal protests completely and he followed you, because quite frankly, he didn't want to let go of your hand.
you made your way to your room, and grayson was now caught up with you and walking by your side. still, your hands were intertwined.
you stopped in front of the door, turning meet his gaze, your own filled with something undeniably fond. "i'm going to get you some tea and antihistamines, while you change, get in bed and rest." your other hand ran up and down his arm, and you looked back up at his face.
he still looked incredibly handsome - unfair, you looked like a zombie when you were sick - and you found yourself wishing he wasn't sick, not only because you didn't want him to hurt, but because you wanted to kiss the damn boy until you were sick of it.
but, as you proved, he would absolutely not kiss you if he was sick. even now, he was trying to keep his distance and stepped back when he found himself involuntarily stepping even closer to you.
his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, "i can help you with that." he suggested earnestly, his gaze fixed on yours.
"i won't let you." you answered back, laughing a little.
"love, i'd hate to lay idly." he tried to bargain, in all of his hawthorne manner. his voice was a low murmur as he pleaded, "let me stay with you in the kitchen, let me do something."
another soft chuckle left your lips, "i'll be five minutes, at most. just relax a little, let me do this for you."
his lips rolled inwards, and you knew he was hating the idea of being the one taken care of.
you rolled your eyes affectionately, before sighing. "gray, i know you've been sick for a while. i know you like to handle stuff like this by yourself, but with all due respect, you're not doing a very good job at it." you shook your head softly, "sitting infront of a computer and stressing yourself out and barely eating isn't going to make you feel better. so please, just let me make you the tea while you change."
for a moment, grayson was silent, and you knew he was going over your words in his head. his eyes searched yours, flickered down to your lips for a moment, then back to your eyes.
"i really do love you." he finally murmured after that silence, his thumb stopping those circles on the back of your hand and simply holding it tight.
butterflies erupted in your stomach at the sound of his voice, and the words themselves nearly made you melt on the spot. "i love you too, grayson."
"more than you know." he continued. his eyes were heavy with intent, "i'm endlessly lucky to have you."
you bit back a large smile, feeling those butterflies once again. you wished you could hide your flush, your face feeling as hot as grayson's forehead earlier.
you 1 : grayson 0.
"so don't push your luck by not listening to me." you managed to joke softly, surprised you found the words; you felt as if you could simply stand there in admiration of him.
"oh, i'm listening." grayson returned right back, the corners of his lips turning up teasingly as he took hold of your other hand. affection swirled and gleamed in those silver eyes of his.
you rolled your eyes and smiled softly, then reached up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"i'll be right back." you told him as you pulled back, a little smile, and let go of his hands. "oh, and pick a good movie!" you quickly added, pointing at him as you took slow steps backwards. "you're banned from your work for the rest of today."
as stubborn as he was, he nodded at you, watching you go before he finally went in the room, and did as you asked.
even he couldn’t deny that resting—especially with you curled up beside him with a good movie on—didn’t sound all that bad.
a/n: walk him like a dog!! sorry if theres spag errors i wrote this in the dead of night
taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @apollospoem@jjsblueberry @yayyy-insecurities @thechildofshadows
a/n: the way i have like 6 other fics i'm working on, this was so cute though I had to write it asap!! thank u sm for the req!
wc: 1.8k
summary: one of your regulars, grayson— who happens to be insanely handsome, comes in today like usual. but strangely enough, things go a tad further than the surface level small talk you usually have.
a familiar suit clad blonde walked in the near empty cafe you worked in. there was a soft hum of some chatter, but not much, as the early morning sun filtered through the large windows.
some people glanced up from their tables for a second, and some people glanced up at him for a lot more than a small second. could you blame them? no, not really.
his eyes immediately found yours as he walked up to the cash register which you stood behind, and you found yourself averting your gaze involuntarily. 7:14 AM the time read. there was only one thing that made the early morning shift worth it, and it seemed to be standing right infront of you now.
today his suit was gray, you noticed. it made his eyes stand out so much more, you nearly stumbled over your words. “you again,” you said, narrowing your eyes jokingly and biting back a smile.
he smiled the tiniest smile, shrugging as if to say ‘what can i say’ before pretending to look up at the menu to order.
“what would you recommend today?” he spoke smoothly, a stark contrast to some of the other people that would come in and simply shout at you.
“why does that matter?” you teased, tilting your head to the side before you looked down at the cash register for a moment and realised you’d already started putting in his usual order. “you get the same thing every time.”
“'there seem to be no specials, but I'm in the mood for a change.'' he said, his grey eyes doing a once over on you. god, how you wish you weren’t wearing that horrible work apron right now. ''I can be a man full of surprises.”
you let out a small chuckle, “i find that hard to believe.”
everything about him screamed precise and orderly. that was partly what intrigued you so much when you first met him. the fact that he was incredibly gorgeous wasn’t so bad either.
you expected him to get a black coffee, maybe a croissant if he was feeling extra adventurous that day, but no a large americano and a muffin. he would also get a blueberry scone or two some days, but always get it to go, and never eat it himself.
you almost wondered if he was ordering for someone else, maybe a girlfriend. but again, no. he sat alone with just his work laptop, having his americano and muffin.
“is that so?” he countered, a slight raise of one of his brows and an amused smile playing on his lips.
you’d be lying if you said you weren’t smiling yourself. “very much so.”
you were thankful there weren’t any customers in line behind him that would yell at you for taking too long. but even if there was a rude customer, you doubted they yell.
grayson had one of those sort of intimidating presences that made you think he was born to be a ceo or something. now that he’d been a regular for a couple months, that intimidation mostly wore off on you. you just thought he was a pretty cute guy with an obsession for suits.
“i suppose i’ll have to prove you wrong then,” he said that in a way that made you think he proves people wrong very often. he adjusted one of his suits lapels, inadvertently drawing your eyes to his arms. “so i ask again, what do you recommend?”
tearing your eyes away from his arms and back to his face, you asked, “you’re really going with this? okay, fine.” you raised your eyebrows like he had challenged you, but you still couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off your face.
you rested your hands on the counter, “uhm,” you thought, humming slightly, “well, i usually get a refresher— like the strawberry or dragon fruit ones, or i get a hot chocolate.” you said, then a thought sparked in your mind. “oh! and a chocolate chip cookie. and a cake pop.”
you bit back a grin— you did not get cake pops or chocolate chip cookies regularly, but the image of grayson with a cake pop or cookie made you want to laugh for some reason.
“alright then,” he said, ''may i get a medium strawberry refresher, and a,'' he paused, saying the words like they almost pained him, ''two... two chocolate chip cookies, please.''
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
grayson left with his drink and cookie, sitting down at a table a bit further in the back, but he was still conveniently in your eyeliner. he opened his briefcase, which you hadn't even realised he was holding. it seemed so natural for him to hold, you hadn't looked twice. you caught yourself looking at him frequently, and sometimes he would glance up from his laptop and lock eyes with you for a moment.
he came up to the counter a few minutes later, his drink finished and thrown away, and a cookie and a half left, adjusting his suit jacket with one hand, briefcase in the other. you fake sighed in annoyance as if his very presence was pestering you-- quite the contrary, really.
he only smiled in response.
''well?'' you said, wiping imaginary dust off of your apron, ''how was it? you sticking to the muffins?''
''I have to say, the refresher wasn't horrible. it was quite nice, actually.'' he said, and you gave him a teasing look that was like, 'told you so!' before he continued. ''however, the cookies were far too sweet. i’m sorry, you seem to have terrible culinary taste.''
you fake scoffed, painting the picture of being truly offended. ''okay, can i tell you a secret?'' you leaned forward, and he entertained you by doing the same, motioning for you to continue. ''yes, you're right. these cookies are absolutely horrible, i agree. but i make much better ones.''
amusement flashed across his eyes, like he guessed you had picked out the not-so-good snacks for him on purpose. “really?” he prompted, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks as he smiled.
“yes,” you swore seriously with a smile that contrasted that no-nonsense tone, “really.”
“i’d like to be the judge of that.” he said, his voice low and teasing and- god, you could listen to it forever.
“trust me, i’m not lying. i’ll bring some to work tomorrow, just remind me to actually bake them. i have such bad memory.”
“and how exactly would i be able to remind you?” he tilted his head to one side slightly, a teasing glint in his eye like he could see where you were getting at, and was entertaining it.
your heart was beating crazy fast, but it was time to finally make a move on this guy. the cash register flirting was simply not enough anymore. you hoped he felt whatever chemistry you were feeling too-- and that you weren't misreading things. then again, you almost failed the subject, so it wouldn't be surprising if you were still getting it wrong.
“why don’t i give you my number," you started, feeling your hands get clammy, ''and you could text me after my shift?”
his dimples flashed a second time, his eyes doing another once over on you. okay, surely you couldn't misread that one.
you felt your cheeks get hot as he spoke once again, his voice so smooth and low that it fit perfectly with the serenity of the morning and café. “i think i’d like that very much, and that i'll be looking forward to tomorrow.”
biting back a smile and ignoring the way your stomach erupted with seemingly a million butterflies , you somehow managed to say, “alright, then. i think i'd like it too.''
you wrote down your number on his receipt, ignoring the way your hands trembled with excitement and nervousness, drawing a little smiley face next to it.
holy shit, you were never like this. your heart raced as you watched his eyes find the bottom of the receipt and give you a tiny smile. you watched him sit down an his work laptop, then pull out his phone, type something in, and put it back in his suit's pocket.
ugh, you would break every rule and look at your phone right now, except you were on your last strike for using your phone in the middle of shifts, and you did not want to get fired from this little coffee shop for the sole reason of seeing that one blonde man every morning and having your usual banter.
''wait,'' you called out, ''what are you going to do with the rest of the cookies? you said, ''don't tell me you'll throw those absolute delicacies away.'' you added jokingly, and grayson simply shook his head, looking down with a slight laugh with a single blonde strand of hair falling into his face.
''I'm keeping them for my younger brother,'' he replied, a fondness in his voice, ''he's quite something, with his extreme love for baked goods.''
you hummed in thought, suddenly realising this was the first time you'd heard about him having brothers. this was really the first conversation about anything that didn't involve small talk and café related things, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to continue learning more about him. getting to know eachother.
''I think those atrocious cookies will change that love he has,'' you mumbled under your breath without thinking as you shook your head.
you heard grayson chuckle, ''what was that?'' he teased.
''god, i'm gonna get myself fired. forget i said anything.'' you groaned as you covered your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up again.
''that would prove very difficult,'' he replied smoothly as you put your hands back down. ''I find it near impossible to forget anything you say to me.''
if you thought your cheeks were heated a few seconds ago, they were blazing now. you averted your gaze for a quick second, but his gaze didn't leave yours.
chuckling slightly, you managed to speak without stumbling. "should i start worrying about all my bad jokes being permanently filed away?"
"bad jokes?" he quipped, "i've yet to hear one from you.'' he did not let up on his charm for a single moment, a laugh escaping your lips before he resumed. ''but if you insist, i’ll let you know when you make your first."
'''I'll see you tomorrow, then?''
you nodded, muttering a small 'bye' as you watched grayson step out of the café, the sound of the door chiming behind him.
the anticipation was unbearable, and despite knowing you were on thin ice with your manager, your hand inched toward your phone on the counter.
a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed no one was watching. you unlocked your phone, heart racing as you checked your notifications.
there it was—a new text, well, one from about 10 minutes ago.
Unknown Number:
Already counting down to tomorrow. 🙃
Don’t forget those cookies you talk of, I'm holding you to it.
you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you quickly saved the number, your hands trembling slightly. you almost let out a snort as his emoji choice before typing, glancing again to make sure the coast was clear.
you
i definitely won’t be forgetting now that you've texted
I just may be looking forward to tomorrow too 🫣
you were thankful the place was practically empty, because surely you looked like a crazy person, smiling to yourself. you set the phone back down, trying to suppress the giddy warmth spreading through you. the day suddenly didn’t feel quite so long anymore.
walkin out the door with your bags — grayson hawthorne x reader — part 7
⤷ “pour your glass of wine // mitchell told me i should be just fine,”
summary: you and grayson haven’t talked in a while, and things stir up in the world around you and in your mind. luckily, you have the best best friend by your side.
wc: 2.0k
a/n: hey siri.. play two people by gracie abrams… (said sadly)
series masterlist — other parts
previously on part 6…
“he looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing before he finally settled on just staying silent.
you still felt like there was a million unspoken words that needed to be said, but you turned and walked away.
for once, you didn’t wait to see if he’d try again.
you willed your feet to move and not think about how he looked behind you, because if you did, even for a second, you had a feeling you’d turn right back.”
—
it had been a few weeks since you and grayson stopped talking. yeah— weeks. that was the longest you had gone without talking to him since you’ve known him. isn’t that strange?
it was driving you crazy, the amount of times you saw something that reminded you of him, or your friendship, and you wanted to send it to him, only to remember you couldn’t. you weren’t friends, and you had him blocked on basically everything.
or the amount of times you saw something only the two of you would understand, something that would’ve made you laugh, and just feel saddened by it. it felt like your memories were split between the two of you.
there was a thing that was even stranger, though— he had started seeing someone.
at least that’s what it looked like, with the posts she’d put on her social media. she had posted a picture of the back of a blonde head you could recognize anywhere in-front of the sunset, and one of her walking with someone holding her shopping bags— and the hand had the faintest scar on it’s thumb, it was almost impossible to notice. and it was a scar that only you knew the backstory to.
there was that— and the countless paparazzi photos online— ‘grayson hawthorne’s possible new girlfriend? the mysterious blonde hawthorne has a new hot date! grayson and his interesting new friend ella spotted in…’ it was sickening.
he would go to extreme lengths to never have paparazzi find you back when you hung out. always in quiet, secluded areas. you never thought much of it before, but now it looked like it had a whole new meaning.
was he embarrassed? did he not want to be seen with you? did he— you off your thoughts before you spiraled.
she was gorgeous, you couldn’t deny it.
and the worst part? she was an absolute sweetheart. there wasn’t a single reason to hate her.
you hated yourself more for even looking for a reason to.
the thing is though, he was never yours. sure, he wiped the tears off of your cheeks when you cried, gave you the kisses you could only dream of, confided in you about things he didn’t tell his family, and he was your best friend. but he was never simply just yours.
besides, you were the one who made sure that any chance of you happening was gone permanently. he asked to talk, and you talked. then you went home crying.
this was grayson you were talking about: if he wanted something, he found a way to get it. that being said, if he wanted to be with you, or even just still be your friend, he would’ve said something.
he didn’t.
if ella was what he wanted, then you just had to deal with it.
you weren’t ever like this, you promised yourself you would never be that girl. green and sick with jealousy, questioning her own self worth.
but hey, you promised each other you’d be there for each other always, did you not? seems like promises didn’t mean all that much anymore.
—
“you don’t get it, gigi.” you exclaimed frustratedly as you wiped your angry tears away.
you had just stormed out of a club you were at with your friends. the bustling music and bright flashing lights stopped again as the door shut behind gigi, after she ran after you. the music could still be heard slightly, but it was muffled heavily behind the door.
your friends wanted you to go kiss random guys, drink until you couldn’t feel anything, and for a few days, you did. and it almost worked, but it just made you feel horrible now. a few of them even made crude jokes about grayson and ella.
you didn’t feel like yourself— you didn’t even like yourself. how could you ever expect grayson to?
“he just doesn’t care if i look pretty, or if i’m doing better, or any of these other things.” you pointed out exaggeratedly, knowing you were taking it out on the wrong person, but you couldn’t stop yourself.
“you know what?” you said through a cruel chuckle. “the worst part is that he would probably be happy for me that i’m moving on, or looking better, being myself, or whatever the hell you guys say i should do.”
you gestured to the door of the buildings where the rest of your friends sat, frustration running all the way to your fingertips.
“he wouldn’t get jealous.” you said, angry at yourself that you got jealous. “he’s a good person, and that’s why it hurts so much. that’s why i’m ‘not over it in 2 weeks like i usually am.’” you continued, almost choking on your words by now.
you were so angry that all your friends expected you to just get over it. they don’t know what its like to feel that kind of love one day, and find out the other person didn’t even think of you like that.
to find out that he thought of someone else like that.
and somehow, even through the pounding of your ears and burning throat, you had even more to say.
“he’s surrounded by pretty girls every day, gigi, the only difference is he actually wants to be with one, and it’s not me. and that’s fine.” you put on your most level voice, and after a moment added, “it has to be fine.”
you sniffled, and decided from then on you were not going to let grayson hawthorne, or more so the lack of him, dictate your life for a second longer.
gigi stood there wide eyes, her mouth opening to speak, then shutting. then opening again, then shutting. “i…” she managed, and your heart almost tore as you noticed her eyes were glossy now.
fuck, you messed up.
“geeg,” you took a tentative step towards her, the nickname coming out before you could even think. you held out a hand as if to stop her from moving, “wait, gigi—“
“— no, i’m sorry. i messed everything up.” she shook her head apologetically as she looked at you, her voice breaking, and in turn breaking your heart. “i— you guys were perfect friends before. and i, i— i ruined it all by trying to play matchmaker.”
“what?” you breathed out, rapidly shaking your head. “no no no, none of this is your fault. you didn’t do anything, i was stupid, and he kissed me. those were our choices, you didn’t force anything— i didn’t mean to take it out on you. you did nothing wrong gigi,”
“stop,” she said through a forced laugh, bringing herself to smile. you knew it was a fake one, and she knew you knew. but she kept on smiling anyway.
“it’s okay, you don’t have to say that.” she spoke through a laugh, a bleak contrast to the pained expression on her face. it was tearing your soul by the second. she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand harshly.
“i should’ve just left everything alone.” gigi tore here eyes away from you, and to the ground. “why do i never leave anything alone?“ she exhaled through a sad laugh. you noticed she started to talk faster, and more so speaking to herself. you picked up on her hands fiddling with themselves, then she toyed with the hem of her shirt.
“no, gigi, look at me.” you waited until her wide blue eyes locked on yours, her wet lashes clumped together. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“i did though, and now gray isn’t acting like himself, you’re not okay, and i’m the worst best friend and sister in the world.”
“gigi,” you gave her a sympathetic look as your shoulders sagged. you couldn’t begin to think about how you could express how much you loved her.
you pulled her into a hug, and her arms stayed glued to her sides for a moment, before finally hugging you back 10x harder.
you screwed your eyes shut as you felt her cry on your shoulder.
“geeg, you have no idea how light my life got the second you entered it,” you mumbled into the hug. “and, i mean— so what if me and grayson aren’t friends anymore? that doesn’t matter, not as much as your friendship matters.”
gigis breathing slowed, and she was sniffling now. the thing that mattered was that she wasn’t crying.
you continued, “he’s not the one i dance with late at night and watch shitty reality tv with in bed the next morning. he’s not the one who i laugh wicker the stupidest things with for hours on end. he’s not the person i text first when something happens. he’s not my best friend.”
not anymore, and he probably never would be ever again.
you felt gigi laugh sadly through a sniffle, still on your shoulder. she was silent for a long moment. then she mumbled, “we’re pretty damn amazing, aren’t we?” she lifted her head and looked at you.
“yeah, we sort of are.” you smiled at her, watching as she wiped her tears and took a deep breath in.
“you know,” she mumbled, “i really really hate my brother.” she said as she straightened her clothes, exhaling a long breath as she shook her head.
“yeah,” you sighed, lying straight through your teeth. “me and you both.”
you more so hated him because you couldn’t really hate him. not fully hate him, anyway.
gigi let the lie slide straight through, changing the subject with a laugh as she leaned forward and fluffed up your hair.
“let’s get inside before we get hypothermia.” she took your hand and led you to the door, “our outfits are not built for the cold.”
“oh, yeah. i know that’s for sure.” you laughed, faking shivering and clattering your teeth. you followed gigi into the doors of the music and bright lights.
for once, you actually looking forward to the night you had ahead of you.
because, you knew you and gigi would grab your purses and go straight home, rewatch your favorite movies until sunrise, and then spend the day dancing to your favorite songs with your favorite person. and repeat until you ran out of baked goods and coffee.
that was what healing was. to you at least.
—
“okay but like,” gigi said, before popping another marshmallow in her mouth.
“have you seen yourself? it’s like, your eyes like— hold the secrets to the universe in them.” she swore solemnly, raising her eyebrows for added effect. “i could look in them forever and eveeerrrrr.”
she tilted her head, eyes widening as she dragged the last word; looking like she was in a hypnotized state.
“gigi, stop.” you laughed as you felt your face redden, pushing her shoulder away.
“sorry,” she didn’t let her act slip up for a single second. “i’m just a little mesmerized right now.”
“you’re not funny,” the laugh threatening to break out said otherwise.
“just give me a moment. i’m just committing this scene to memory so i’ll see you in my dreams,” her voice was all robot-like, she always knew how to cheer you up in the most ridiculous ways. “the day isn’t enough time—“
“shut up,” you giggled, hiding your face as gigi leaned back, throwing her head back in laughter.
you shook your head, rubbing your eyes as you continued to chuckle. once you’d both settled down, gigi spoke again, more serious this time.
she leaned her head back on the couch, looking at you fondly. “i’m sorry my brother is a d1 douche bag. if he had a dollar every time he was literally the worst person ever, he’d be richer than avery.”
you managed a small laugh. “tell me about it,” you said, then after a moment of giggles, you spoke again. “i love you more, geeg. way more than you know.”
—
it was bordering between late night and early morning when you woke up. gigi’s limbs were strewn across the king-sized bed you lay on. you could hear her soft snores.
you turned over and gave her a glance, and her hair was all over the place in the most endearing, gigi way.
she’s going to struggle with that tomorrow, you thought. you laughed to yourself, before reaching over blindly for your phone, the notifications of which you forgot to silence, being the whole reason you were awake now.
2:32 the time read, and you scrolled down to read your notifications.
your smile faded faster than you could ever imagine. there was a crater in your chest, and a hole in your stomach.
earlier notifications:
**A blocked number wants to message you. Accept?**
— I’m sorry.
— I’ve made many mistakes in my life. I can’t let losing you be another.
**Tap here to delete this message, and all previous conversation.**
a/n: gigi my girl ☹️ sorry for the recent influx of angst help idk what happened
taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable
her rhinestones, they shine endlessly. [g.w. x reader]
summary: it doesn't hurt to try again.
a/n: i got a bit bored while studying 😭 i don't think purple prose may be everyone's cup of tea but i had a blast writing this!! i promise i'll start on requests after my finals next month
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
By the time George Weasley had finally fallen in love with her, the water'd gone too cold to dip his toes in.
She's moving on with her life, onto bigger and greater things beyond the limestone castle walls and midnight frivolities. He sees her in Diagon striding with purpose, each step light and powerful; as though she'd finally shed the skin of their past.
Under the propane-blue summer sky, she smiles with a zest for life and he thinks determinedly to himself: "I want to try again."
And so try he does, every afternoon at two o'clock sharp, the exact time she makes her routine through Diagon for her fix of coffee and her umpteeth client to attend to, silk robes billowing behind her. They look like crystal tides ebbing and flowing, he thinks, and only she can make them work.
He leaves Ron in charge of the shop, saying he has matters to attend to because quite frankly, he does.
He signs up for her time, buys her a cuppa, and sits down with her at a wrought iron table. He pays for one refill after the other, anything to buy more time with her, because she's the only one ever truly worth his entire being and every second of his lifetime.
Besides Fred, but he knows that he'd laugh in his face if he spent too long mourning him.
"Oh, get over it, you big crybaby," the Fred in his head says as though dying were only an afternoon game of Quidditch, "I'm only dead! What's the big deal? Go and get her!"
The afternoons fade into evenings that branch out into a daily routine. She still has her reservations— he can see it in the way her eyes flicker away for a moment and the light in them fades like nox. Or the way she holds her hand to her chest as though Cupid might strike her at any given moment.
And he understands.
He understands the fear of falling back in and losing it all. He's just as scared, if not terrified. But he's trying, isn't he? George wants to tell her, but words are empty vessels; hollow and futile.
So he shows her instead.
Beneath camphor trees, where she finally lets him hold her hand after months of alluding up to this moment. He guides her through the lilies of the valley. They gaze at the stars and name the constellations. He ignites a few fireworks and watch as they light up her face.
He loves the way her eyes twinkle, almost like rhinestones. He could savour this forever.
Their hands feel right intertwined. They slot in seamlessly, the lines in their palms lining up. Hers are cold, and his are warm, and it feels as though life is finally in equilibrium.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
a/n: i also just figured out how to make my text micro LMFAOAOAOAO
It’s a new soundtrack 💙 Here are the back covers and vault track titles for 1989 (my version) I can’t wait for this one to be out, seriously. Thank you for playing along, sleuthing, puzzling and making these reveals so much chaotic fun (which is the best kind of fun, after all 😜)
EXCUSE ME HI I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY 🙋♀️ I can’t wait to see so many of you on The Eras Tour next year at these new international dates! Visit TaylorSwift.com/tour for more information on your registrations, pre-sales and on-sales!!
Accidental stalker is kind of what I'm going for :)
Maybe Jaime and Reader accidentally bump into each other one day and both think the other is "fit" but just keep walking. They however keep noticing each other at there favorite places like the park, bakery and maybe a few others. Finally after seeing each other for like the eighth time Reader angrily approaches Jaime asking if he's is a creep who is stalking her. Jamie is shocked by this cause he thought she might be following him around (Like as a fan) they have a good laugh and realize they have a lot in common then maybe go on a date
I honestly just love funny fics where everyone is just confused
I thought this gif was a funny one to put with this story. Hope you like it!!
chasing shadows in a grocery line
You take a deep breath, then exhale. Finally. It’s the weekend, which means you have two whole days to yourself; no plans with friends, no work, no nothing. It’s like heaven. You woke up late, took your time making breakfast, and cleaned up around your flat. There’s a load of laundry in the washing machine, and now you’re dressed and ready to go grocery shopping.
It really is all about the little things in life.
You’re feeling productive, perusing the vegetable aisle, considering what you want to purchase for your meals this week. You’re in deep thought about a particularly large avocado when someone bumps your shoulder.
“Sorry,” says a voice, “weren’t looking where I was going.”
You turn and are met with the clearest blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, then force yourself to turn back to the avocado before it gets weird.
—
You decide to get the avocado, among other things, and now you’re headed to your favorite bakery. It’s small, but wonderful. You want to pick up a loaf of bread to go with dinner and to chat with the store owners. They’re an old couple named Helen and Max who have been running the bakery for years, and they’re a little bit like Richmond’s grandparents.
However despite their popularity, everyone seems to have their own time of the day they go to the bakery. You never see anyone you know there, but it’s where everyone gets their baked goods. You suppose everyone must go at the same time every week, which is why you always see the same three people shopping.
You reach to pull open the door right as someone pushes it open from inside.
“Sorry!” you say, “I didn’t see you there.” Your voice trails off a little bit at the end, because you’re staring into those same blue eyes from the grocery store.
He gives you a small smile and says, “Guess we’re even, then,” before holding the door open to let you through. You breeze through like you’re not completely flustered, and dare to take a quick glance back.
He’s looking back too, and you quickly look away. You’re surprised you haven’t seen him here before, and make a mental note to ask about him. You’re not going to lie, he’s very good looking, and if anyone knows if he’s single, it’s going to be Helen. She knows everything about everyone.
—
It’s not until you’re walking back to your flat that you realize you forgot to ask Helen. She had pulled out photos of her newest grandbaby as soon as she saw you, so it completely slipped your mind. You’re lost in thought as a jogger goes running by you, and it takes a moment for you to register that it’s the same man from before.
That’s a little weird, seeing him three times in one day. You don’t dwell on it too long, though, because you have Plans for the day that do not involve a fit, blue-eyed stranger.
—
Sunday means you get to sit in the park with a nice large book and a basket lunch, soaking up the rare sun and sounds of Richmond.
You pause mid-chapter to listen to the world around you, the kids laughing, people chattering. You hear a voice near you say, “Oi, Keeley!” and you note that whoever it is, they say Keeley the same way grocery boy says sorry.
(You’ve taken to calling the stranger “grocery boy” in your mind. You figure it suits because that’s where you first bumped into him).
You half turn and find grocery boy looking at you, mouth half-open in surprise. He’s with a tiny blonde, you assume this must be Keeley, and a tall, very hairy, very grumpy-looking man. You give him a small wave, then turn back to your book.
You find yourself rereading the same sentence over a few times, way too lost in thought. What the hell is grocery boy doing here? You swear in all your weekend routines, you’ve never seen him before. He looks vaguely familiar, but that could be your mind playing tricks on you. You decide to call it a day and pack up your blanket, book, and food.
It’s still a lovely day, so you decide to sit outside your flat. You have a few neighbors outside as well, and it feels like the perfect summer day. You’re leaning on your next-door neighbor’s gate and laughing at one of his outrageous stories about growing up in the late sixties, when you catch a glimpse of blonde walking by into the flat two down from yours. She’s accompanied by the grumpy man and… grocery boy?
You didn’t know she lived on your street. Her car is usually there when you leave for work and gone when you come back, so you’ve never actually seen who lives there.
Grocery boy looks at you and wrinkles his nose a little bit in confusion. You wrinkle yours right back.
This is getting really, really weird.
You turn back to Mr. Davies, ready to hear his next story, but he’s just raising his eyebrows at you and grinning. You roll your eyes and grin back. He’s been trying to get you a date for the better part of the year, and you can only imagine what fuel this brief, meaningless interaction will add to his fire.
—
God, it’s Monday already. You make it through the entire workday so as you get into your car you decide, forget it, I’m going for kebabs. You don’t feel like cooking and there’s a place just up the street from your flat, so you’ll get something to take home.
You’re waiting for your order when the door jingles, signifying another customer. You half turn just from instinct, and immediately whip back around.
Your heart is beating a little faster. This cannot be a coincidence. I mean really, what are the odd of you two running into each other so much?
You try to take a calming breath, but it’s just a stutter.
It’s fine, you tell yourself, there are people around, it’s fine.
You have a friend from uni who had a stalker once. He showed up everywhere, her favorite coffee spot, her job, her yoga class. One time he showed up outside her room so she called the police. Got a restraining order and everything. Turns out he had seen her once at the school library and decided he was in love with her. Now he’s not allowed within 150 metres of her.
Your name is called and you grab your order, purposefully not looking at grocery boy and trying not to think about the fact that he now knows your name. You’re out the door and walking as fast as you can without running. You’ve made it a good way up the street when you hear someone call your name and shout, “Oi!”
You walk a little faster, but not fast enough. Grocery boy has caught up to you. You suppose he’s so fast because he’s insanely fit.
You turn to him, gripping your bag of food tightly as if it could protect you.
“Why are you stalking me?” you ask fiercely.
This takes him by surprise. Whatever he was planning on saying has died on his lips as he digests this.
“Why am I… stalking you?” he repeats slowly.
You nod, hands clenched into fists. You mentally count how many people are around right now, just in case things go sideways. Who would have thought that cute, sweet grocery boy is actually insane?
“I’m not stalking ya, you’re the one following me!” he says. “What d’you want? An autograph? Tickets to the next match? A fuckin’ signed photo?”
Now you’re confused. “Why would I want a photo? You’re cute, sure, but like… that’s just crossing the line.”
He runs a hand through his hair, bewildered. You have the unfortunate observation that he looks incredibly attractive like that.
Pull yourself together, you scold, he’s crazy, why are you attracted to him?
Your therapist is going to love unpacking that one.
“You mean.. you don’t know who I am.” He says it as a statement not a question.
“No..?” you reply. “Should I?”
“I’m Jamie Tartt,” he says. He’s met with a blank stare. “The footballer?” he continues. You shrug. “I play for AFC Richmond and I’m their fucking best scorer?”
“I don’t watch football,” you say. “Not really a sports kind of person.”
Jamie blows out a breath. “So you don’t know who I am.”
You shake your head.
“And you weren’t stalking me.”
You shake your head again, thinking about his fucking hot accent. You’re starting to piece together that he is, in fact, not crazy, so can you let yourself think he’s cute again.
“I thought you were following me,” you say, “because hello, most stalkers are men? And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty good-looking girl, so it makes way more sense that you’d be the one following me.”
You want to kick yourself before the words are even out of your mouth. Where did that come from? God, you’re embarrassing yourself in front of this cute, apparently famous footballer. You suppose any chance of getting his number (like you fantasized on Saturday) is gone.
But Jamie is just looking at you differently now, probably because he has to recategorize you from a creep to… well, you don’t know what, but anything’s better than a stalker.
You’re pretty sure you can’t be any more surprised tonight, but apparently you can, because the next words out of Jamie’s mouth are, “You’re really fit.”
You swear you’re getting whiplash from this conversation, and it must show on your face because Jamie just laughs.
“Noticed ya looking at that avocado, and might have bumped into you on purpose. Everything after that was just fucking weird though. Thought about asking for your number at the park, but I was with Roy and Keeley. Keeley’s too fucking involved in my life and Roy don’t care, but then, I dunno, it started to get weird.”
“You want my number?” you ask incredulously.
Jamie shrugs. “Seems like we’ve got a lot in common. Except football. Who doesn’t fucking watch football?”
You laugh. “I don’t know, I just never got into it!”
Jamie laughs with you. “Tell you what, you watch me play, and then tell me it’s fucking boring.”
Your laughter is dying down now, and you realize the sun is starting to go down. “I’d better get going,” you say. “It was nice to officially meet you.”
“Let me walk you,” Jamie says, “Goin’ to Keeley’s anyway.”
You smile and take his offered hand.
You suppose there are weirder ways to meet someone, and you’re not complaining.
a/n: no warnings for this one except language, obviously. i just wanted to imagine having a fluffy little coach trip with jamie tartt so i hope there are others out there who want to imagine the same. requests are SO open for jamie/roy/sam/ted please do send some ideas <3
---
You weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to engineer this situation, but you were worried that if you thought about it too hard, you might end up losing it. Somehow, on a coach to Amsterdam, you’d ended up wedged between a window and Jamie Tartt and despite that being the stuff of nightmares only about a year ago, now it was something you couldn’t have hoped for in advance.
“I said I’d save a seat for ya, didn’t I?” he’d claimed proudly when you shimmied past him to sit in the window seat. He’d been smiling hopefully at you as he patted it when you’d walked down the aisle of the coach. You’d thought you’d be sitting with Rebecca at the back until he’d tugged at your wrist to stop you in your tracks.
“To be totally transparent, I thought you were joking,” you murmured to him once you were settled, bag tucked underneath your seat, “You also said the same to Roy yesterday, and I heard you saying it to Sam this morning.”
“Yeah, but I was fuckin’ with them,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Besides, we have a whole conditioner campaign to plan, right? Now’s as good a time to start as any.”
You tried not to let your heart sink a little. Of course it was work-related. You’d just have to be happy with the grin he was sporting as he nudged your arm.
“You’re on,” you grinned back, then, with a show of boldness, “But only if you promise not to complain when I inevitably fall asleep on you later.”
If anything, his grin grows wider.
“Shoulder’s all yours, love. I’m told it’s pretty comfy.”
“Who’s told you that? Roy?”
He rolls his eyes, but it’s too fond. You busy yourself trying to manoeuvre your laptop out of your bag, but a hand on yours stops you in your tracks. When you look up, Jamie’s face is soft and he’s tucking your laptop away again.
“Relax. The coach’ll take hours yet. We can get comfy first, yeah?”
“You’re right,” you concede, shuffling into the back of your seat again with a content sigh, “Don’t know why I’m pretending to be eager to work.”
He laughs and you join in. You want to tell him he’s got a downright infectious laugh these days, because its lighter than ever and always filled with genuine happiness, but you don’t. Too much. Instead, you push up on the back of the seat in front of you to tap Dani urgently on the shoulder, then sit down quickly and turn a fake-reprimanding glance at Jamie.
“What is it, amigo?” he directs his question towards Jamie who’s looking incredulous, “Or are you playing a cheeky prank?”
You tut and sink further into your seat as you shake your head at Jamie. He begins to point at you, but Dani is already ruffling Jamie’s hair and turning back around as he mutters happily in Spanish. Jamie turns to you, brows furrowed.
“So that’s how it’s gonna be, eh?”
You shrug, as playful as you can manage with your heart beating a little harder in your chest. He narrows his eyes at you, then settles into his seat, and you know he’s plotting revenge. You can’t wait.
---
It’s been an hour and a half, and you and Jamie have been going back and forth almost the entire time, the very idea of doing any work on his new ad campaign buried in favour of having fun. Jamie had snuck your phone from your lap and prank called Ted who was sat at the back of the bus. You’d then somehow managed to do the same with Jamie’s phone, but decided to send a rather inflammatory text to Jan Maas, which was followed by a half hour argument between the two men that was incredibly entertaining.
Most recently, Jamie had made a terrible noise putting his mouth to his elbow and blamed it on you, but luckily Sam had seen him do it and you’d been able to clear your name. It had been a stellar effort though, so you were giving it some time before you found something perfect to retaliate with.
“Can I ask y’ something?” Jamie spoke suddenly, but his voice was softer than you’d heard it on the journey so far. You turned to him and nodded encouragingly, “I was jus’ sat here wonderin’ - and please don’t take this the wrong way - but why y’ decided to come with us? I’m happy about it, ‘course I am, but-“
“I get it, Jamie,” you said quickly, because you could see how much he was struggling. It was heartwarming how earnest he was when he’d said he was happy you’d come with them though, and you were fighting an urge to lean in and kiss his cheek to stop his rambling, “I’m not exactly essential personnel for a trip to Amsterdam.”
“Fuck, that’s exactly what I was tryin’ not to sound like - wait, y’ don’t really think that do ya?”
“Jamie, seriously, stop worrying! It’s sweet but so unnecessary. Hannah, you know the one that usually handles socials? She couldn’t make it so Rebecca asked if I’d fill in. I’m not one to turn down a free trip with some of my favourite people.”
His smile was genuine until the last sentence, where it morphed into something cocky as he puffed his chest.
“You wanna name any of those favourite people of yours?”
You bit the inside of your cheek as you pretended to think about it. God, it felt like it would be so easy to admit that you’d jumped at the chance to come because you jumped at any chance to spend time with Jamie these days, but you couldn’t. There were hours of this bus ride left to sit in awkward silence if he didn’t take it well.
“Well, Ted’s gotta be right up there,” you began, shifting in your seat to look around the bus, “Sam, of course, and, god, Colin is a must. Rebecca, obviously-“
“No one who’s last name might happen to rhyme with a part of the body, or somethin’?”
You scrunch up your face in fake confusion. It’s easy to imagine doing this forever, just playing pretend with Jamie Tartt for the rest of time, and you’ll play along as long as he lets you.
“Ohhh you mean Jan Maas? Rhymes with ass, very clever. Didn’t know you were such a poet.”
“I dabble, me,” he deadpans, but neither of you can keep it up as you dissolve into giggles. Jamie pulls his cap further down his forehead to hide just how much he’s cracking up and you tuck your face down - no need to have the rest of the bus trying to get in on the joke. When you both calmed down, he turned, looking back up at you from under his hat, “Very quick by the way. Jan Maas, ass. You’re good, you are.”
“You’ve only just noticed?” you asked incredulously, intent on teasing him just a step further, but he takes his hat off to look at you properly when he answers, running his hand once, twice through his hair first, of course.
“Nah,” he replied, voice that soft whisper that you’d come to crave, “Y’ wanna know when I noticed?”
You swallowed thickly, leaning into him in the same way he had, all conspiratorial and close.
“I dunno. Do I wanna know?”
Jamie ignored you and continued, eyes flitting from your face to a thread on his joggers he was picking at.
“It was when I’d just come back to Richmond an’ everyone was mad at me. Rightly so, I know. But I was sat in me car, havin’ lunch cause no one would eat with me yet. You were walking past with Rebecca going to lunch and you waved at me, with this mad bright smile on your face y’know?”
“I may have a vague memory of that,” you said, as if seeing him alone in his car hadn’t broken your heart at that time.
“An’ then the day after, when you ate in your car an’ invited me to join. I knew y’ were only doin’ it for me, but I didn’t care. I jus’ remember being so grateful. So, so grateful. That’s when I knew you were…”
He trailed off, but he was stuck staring at your face. You could feel the heat sparking down the length of your spine as he seemed to search your expression for something. His own was unreadable.
“…good?”
It was like you had snapped him out of a trance and somehow you wished you hadn’t said anything.
“Good, yeah, that’s what I mean,” he murmured, then seemed to let that cocky mask fall back into place, “You wanna tell me when you realised I was good now so I don’t just sit here like a prick? Or, let me guess, you’re still waiting for it to happen?”
Despite the teasing tone, you somehow knew this wasn’t an opportunity to joke. There was a newfound vulnerability in Jamie that you were always careful not to tread on; it was such a welcome change after all.
“Nope, I know exactly when it was. I walked past the boot room one day, a couple weeks before we had that first lunch I think, and you were making sure things were tidy enough for Will to sort. There was nobody to watch you do it, either. I just knew that you were a different Jamie. That you were…good.”
Good didn’t cut it at all. You’d sworn then and there that you were going to help him find his way at Richmond whatever it took, and eating lunch in your car just so that he could join you a few weeks later felt like a good start. It had been. As Jamie worked to gain the love of his teammates, he had you as a constant sounding board, willing lunch partner and occasional movie night holder. He wasn’t invited over often, not wanting to seem too eager, but he’d never turned you down.
Yes, that was the moment you’d realised he’d changed, but there had been a million moments since that had turned him into the first person that came to mind when he’d asked you for your favourite person on the bus.
Now he wasn’t meeting your eyes at all, fully trained on that thread he’d been picking at. You sighed and flicked his hand to stop him ruining his favourite pair, and he finally looked up at you, wide puppy eyes that always made you melt when they showed up.
“You really mean that?”
Rather than replying, you hold out your pinky to him and watch his smile grow as he twists his own around yours. You let it linger then lean in to kiss your own hand and gesture for him to do the same. He does it so tenderly you think you’re getting lightheaded.
“Every word,” you assure him, settling back into your seat and untangling your hands from each other, “Now that I’ve been so nice to you, think I can cash in that shoulder offer from earlier?”
It was easier to revert to the easy banter than continue down this sincere path. And even though it was only just beginning to get dark, you couldn’t look at him any longer. Maybe if you were resting on his shoulder, you could grin for a bit without him wondering what was wrong with you.
He patted his shoulder invitingly and you snuggled down into it, until your cheek was smushed into his jacket and you could smell the cologne radiating from him. You threaded an arm into the crook of his elbow without thinking, just because it was more comfortable, but when you moved to take it away, he rested his hand on yours to keep you there. That same hand then came up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, staying to cradle your head for a moment.
You held your breath.
He quickly thought better of leaving his hand there, squeezing your head for just a moment before dropping his arm back to his side.
It took a while to breathe naturally again, especially knowing he’d feel every painstaking inhale and exhale against him, and it took even longer for your eyes to close and to finally drift off.
---
When you woke up again, you had to squint as your eyes adjusted to the almost total darkness of the coach. It had to have been a couple of hours. You wiped your mouth to ensure you hadn’t drooled on your very kind seat partner then risked a glance up at him without moving your head too much.
He looked asleep. His chin was tucked against the crown of your head, and his whole body was turned into yours in a way it hadn’t been when you’d fallen asleep. There was nothing that would make you want to move and disturb the moment, except for the unfortunate cramp in your neck you were simply going to have to stretch out.
You tried to gently ease your head out from under his but his eyes fluttered open immediately as he looked at you in concern.
“Y’alright love?”
That voice. Huskier and broader than ever in its newly woken state. You smiled up at him and whispered back, noticing that the rest of the bus were either asleep or resting as you stretched your neck.
“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry. You can have my shoulder now if you like, ‘s only fair.”
“Nah you’re alright. If you’re awake, I’m awake. What kind of seatmate would I be if I left you on your own, hm?”
“A normal one?” you offered, but he shook his head, holding a hand to his heart as if wounded.
“I will not have myself being described as anythin' but fuckin' extraordinary, please,” he insisted quietly, making you chuckle, “Did ya sleep well?”
“Very. Whoever told you that you have a comfy shoulder was annoyingly right.”
There was a note of jealousy in your tone that you didn’t expect to be there when you started talking. If Jamie noticed it, he didn’t say anything, even though you could have sworn you saw a smirk pass across his features.
“Well, I’ll let Colin know you agree with him,” he said matter-of-factly, and you wondered if he was telling you it was Colin on purpose. It was so difficult to second guess your every interaction with him, feelings getting stronger every minute you spent with him. Really, you were tired of it and tired in general and it was enough. Your usual caution had been left behind. You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe finally confess, but he was talking before you could begin.
“Actually, can I tell ya a secret?”
It took you a moment to recover from what you had been about to say and respond to him.
“Uh…yeah, of course. Anything, you know that.”
“I do, yeah. Yeah, that’s part of it actually,” he was so in his head, but he was looking at you like he had earlier, searching for something. Nowadays, he looked so soft all the time, but there was a selfish part of you that hoped maybe he was especially soft with you, “It’s about what we said earlier. I lied to ya, and I’ve been fuckin’ kickin’ meself for it ever since.”
“You lied?”
“Yeah. I said the day we had lunch in your car was when I realised you were good. That’s not true,” he admitted, as if he was saying something shameful, “I already knew you were good, way before I was done bein’ a full-time prick. Anyone could tell you were good.”
Your heart was hammering away in your chest, in your throat, in your ears.
“That day in the car park was actually when I realised you were just…fuckin’ incredible. Like, the most beautiful person I know. Not just fit, I knew you were fuckin’ fit, I’ve got eyes, but like- y’ were just somethin’ else. You are somethin’ else. Special, like.”
You felt frozen in your seat. It was hard to tell with how 'Jamie' the whole speech had been, but you were pretty sure there was a confession in there. It didn’t sound like something he’d say to any of his mates. Still, you had to be sure.
“Sorry, Jamie, I might be being thick here but are you saying you’re like…into me? Like, romantically?”
You cringed instantly at your choice of words but he didn’t falter. This time, when he laid his hand over yours, he kept it there, stroking a steady rhythm into the back of your hand.
“I’m saying I’m into you in like…all the ways y’ can be into someone. I’m fuckin’ mad about you, Y/N. The only one who doesn’t see it is you, but you fell asleep on me shoulder and I was in fuckin’ heaven so I’m telling ya. Look, I’m not expectin’ anything-“
“Well, you should. Expect things, I mean,” you cut him off, because you can’t go another second without reciprocating, “I thought you saved me a seat to talk about your conditioner campaign.”
He scoffed loudly then glanced around to check he hadn’t woken anyone as he lowered his voice again.
“I couldn’t give a shit about all that,” he said as firmly as he could whisper, “I give a shit about you. A lot of shits.”
You let out a breathy chuckle as you reply.
“God, I give so many shits about you, Jamie. Too many shits. Have done for fucking forever, I was just about to tell you.”
“What, before I did?” he said, making a face, “As if I’d let you steal my thunder.”
You take an opportunity and a boldness you can’t help but seize as you take his face in both hands and pull it towards yours until you’re both a breath apart. He closes his eyes and pushes towards you but you keep him just a moment away, stroking a trail along one of his eyelids.
“Well I think you’re fucking incredible too. Prick,” you mumble, without any venom. It sounds like the most loving pet name in the world, the way you utter it for his ears only.
“Yours,” he counters quietly, winding his arms around your waist until he can pull you fully onto his lap and you have to bite back a squeal. You both glance around for onlookers and find none, “Think the coast is clear, babe?”
“Crystal,” you insist, surging forward to press a searing kiss to his lips, gratified when he responds just as enthusiastically, pushing back into you, both hands clutching at you like you were about to disappear any moment.
There were still plenty of hours left on the coach, however, and you were content to stay exactly where you were as long as Jamie would let you.
And there was no chance of him letting you go anywhere.
