#grayslovely

[angelmurmur]

hi sorry to bother you but could u do something michael townsend x reader where the readers jealous of lia or something like that

— jealousy, jealousy

warnings: slight make out, nothing nsfw

pairing(s): michael townsend x statistician!reader

a/n: im sorry this took soso long school is nottt fun rn. and you didn’t bother me at all sweet girl i was so excited to write this fic, i hope u like it !!

you’re in the kitchen with cassie, sat on stools and going over a case file spread in front of you. well, technically, she’s the one going over the case file. you, on the other hand, are too focused on michael and lia. they’re standing next to each other, talking and laughing so casually it makes your gut twist.

you and michael aren’t necessarily dating, so there’s no reason for you to be jealous — that’s what you keep telling yourself. however, you can tell there’s definitely something there. it’s a certain spark that’s painfully obvious to everyone around you, but you two haven’t done anything about it yet.

eventually, you snap out of it and turn back to cassie when you hear her say something to you. she’s looking at you expectantly, like she asked a question. in all honesty, you didn’t hear a word of what she said. so, you go with the safest option and nod, hoping it wasn’t an open-ended question.

she raises a brow at you. “i asked you what you noticed about the unsub’s victims,” she says, her tone a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“oh,” you mumble, a little embarrassed. your eyes drift back to michael and lia once again. this time, michael’s gaze meets yours and a slow smile spreads across his face at the sight of you staring. you immediately look away, turning back to cassie.

“do you even know the last thing i said?” she asks, a slight chuckle escaping her lips as she speaks. she can’t help but find your obvious jealousy amusing.

“i did,” you say a little too quickly. “just processing the information.” it’s moments like this where you’re glad she’s a profiler instead of a deception specialist. though, it really doesn’t take a deception specialist to tell that you’re lying.

cassie smiles knowingly and arches a brow. “right. processing michael and lia’s conversation, maybe?”

you look at her, then over to the living room, then back to her. all the while, the knot in your stomach tightened. after a small moment of silence, you eventually decide that you need to head to your room and clear your head. “i’m so sorry, cass, i’m heading upstairs for a moment. i’ll be right back.”

michael follows your figure as you quickly walk upstairs, his brows furrowing in curiosity. he doesn’t hesitate to follow you, leaving lia with a short, “give me a moment.”

you walk into your room and are in the middle of shutting the door when a hand stops its movement. you look up to see michael. you came up to your room to stop thinking about him so you could focus on the file, yet here he is, right in front of you. he always is, it seems.

you know it’s a given that you’ll see him around, since you two literally live in the same house. still, you can’t help but feel like everywhere you go, he is. his presence is frustratingly unavoidable. or maybe it’s you, scouting him out subconsciously, like you need to know he’s near.

he stands in your doorway, looking down at you for a moment. he walks closer and you should’ve stepped back, but you stayed put. “wanna talk?” he asks, but you know it’s more of a statement than a question.

you shrug. “nothing to talk about.” you try not to sound bitter, you really do. unfortunately for you, the memory of him and lia laughing together keeps replaying in your mind—taunting you.

he smiles and cocks his head, but his brows are slightly furrowed from your unusually sharp tone. “clearly not. looking like you want to cuss me out is just your normal face,” he says sarcastically.

still, you don’t budge. “michael, really, you can go.”

he hums at that and takes a short step closer, his eyes completely focused on you. then, you realize what he’s doing and immediately try to hide your face from him, looking away.

you and michael had made a deal; he wouldn’t read your emotions and you wouldn’t bombard him with numbers and random, irrelevant facts. however, it’s obvious the deal is about to break.

michael smiles slowly. “you’re jealous,” he states with a tilt of his head. his words are laced with amusement and something else you can’t figure out.

you scoff as if he’s wrong, hoping you can convince him so—and maybe yourself, too. “jealous? please. i have nothing to be jealous about,” you retort.

he hums in response, a smile on his lips that shows he doesn’t believe you whatsoever. “i’m no lie detector,” he pauses there for a moment as he watches your reaction to the beginning of his sentence. you clench your jaw ever so slightly at the words ‘lie detector,’ your mind going back to lia. his smirk widens at that and continues. “but i don’t think you’re being exactly truthful here.”

“well, you thought wrong. now, if you excuse me.” you begin to walk past him, trying to leave the conversation.

swiftly, he grabs your wrist and turns you back around. your breath hitches as he gently pulls you close. your faces are mere inches apart, as per your calculations. he moves his hands to your waist, his grip on you gentle.

his voice drops to the softer, more genuine tone. “there’s nothing to be jealous about, smart girl.”

you sigh. “when i joined the naturals you told me that you and her were on and off—”

he smiles and shakes his head, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. “we’re off. ever since you walked through the front door we’ve been off. it’s you. i know it is.”

you swallow, your throat suddenly feeling tight. “michael…”

he sighs, his tone turning more serious. “look, i don’t know what this is, but i know what i want it to be. i really want to be your boyfriend, smart girl.” he pauses with a short chuckle. “it’s kind of embarrassing how much i want you.”

a smile forms on your lips and his own grows wider in response. in a moment of impulse, you reach up and gently grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss.

his grip on your waist tightens and he deepens the kiss, almost desperately. after a moment, he pulls back just slightly and whispers against your lips. “i’ll take that as an ‘i want you too’?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

you can’t help but laugh softly. “yes, michael, i want you too.”

at that, he pulls you back in. his hands slip under the hem of your shirt and rest on your bare waist. the touch sends shivers down your spine and you sigh softly into the kiss.

suddenly, you hear someone clear their throat and jump back, eyes widening. you turn to your bedroom door, breathing a little heavily from the kiss.

lia’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, a knowing smirk on her lips. cassie’s standing next to her, smiling at your state of shock. “case file. does that ring a bell?” she asks teasingly.

“right,” you respond sheepishly. you look from her and up to michael. “i’ll talk to you later, okay?” you murmur, your breathing still a little ragged.

he smiles and nods. “hope so.”

you roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you walk out with cassie and lia, leaving michael in your room as he watches with a look of satisfaction and affection as you walk away.

[angelmurmur]

Grayson Hawthorne fluff literally anything but maybe some of sleepy gray? Also love all ur work 🙈

— stay

warnings: none!

pairing(s): grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: aaa thank u so much ily!! that means a lot given i’ve only written like three fics so far loll, also i love love love this request!

the morning sun peeks through the window and the rays gently land on your eyes, causing them to flutter open. your head is buried in grayson’s chest and you can hear the calming, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. both of his arms are wrapped around your torso while one of your legs is slung over both of his, your bodies intertwined.

you pull back slightly to get a good look at his face without waking him up. his blond hair is messed up instead of perfectly styled like normal, the strands going in all directions. the usual wrinkle-free suit is replaced with a slightly rumpled grey shirt and dark blue plaid pajama pants. his features are softened and he looks oh so peaceful.

your moment of admiration for him is cut short when you remember you and avery had plans today. you’re not even sure what time it is, but based off the way the sun shines through the blinds, it’s around eleven in the morning. you sigh, knowing you have to get up.

seeing grayson still in bed at eleven is a rare sight. usually, he wakes up in the early morning with his day already carefully planned—every single hour is thought about. however, with you, the urgency to be in control and prepared always seems to lessen. with you, he allows himself to relax.

you try to free yourself of his grip and it’s working for a second until his arms subconsciously tighten around your body. you sigh out of slight frustration, but the thought that he wants you closer even in his sleep brings a small smile to your face.

“gray,” you murmur, tapping his back gently so he can wake up.

he slightly stirs from the feeling. “mm?” he hums in acknowledgment, still half asleep.

“i need to get up. avery and i are hanging out today,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

his brows furrow softly when you say you have to go. “avery can wait a little longer, sweetheart,” he mumbles quietly, his words slurring together.

you frown. “she’ll be mad at me, gray.” once again, you try to untangle yourself out of his arms. and, once again, he doesn’t budge.

“no she won’t, love. she’ll understand,” he reassures you quietly. “stay.”

you narrow your eyes incredulously at his statement, a smile forming on your lips. “she’ll understand that i blew off our plans to sleep with my boyfriend?”

he lets out a small chuckle. his silver eyes open slowly, they’re half-lidded and looking down at you softly. “if your plans don’t include paid reservations, she’ll be alright.”

you roll your eyes at his logic, but your smile stays nonetheless. “you get five more minutes, gray.”

he hums in disapproval and closes his eyes. “ten,” he counters.

“five.”

“ten.” obviously, he’s not willing to compromise.

instead of insisting on five minutes this time, you pause and begin considering it. ten more minutes with him doesn’t sound all that bad.

“...fine.”

a slow, knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips. he brings one of his hands up to the back of your head and gently starts stroking your hair. “you’re a terrible negotiator, sweetheart,” he says softly.

“shut up,” you mumble and bury your head back in his chest.

he simply pulls you in closer and you sling your leg over his, just like how you two were before. he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulls away. a content sigh leaves your lips and you shut your eyes, letting the warmth of his body take you in.

you’ll text avery an apology later. much, much later.

[angelmurmur]

helloooooo can you write something where grayson is overworked and exhausted and gets sick cuz the foundation was very demanding. Then reader takes care of him!

— take a break

warnings: none!

pairing(s): grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: love this request, i hope u like it !!

grayson pinches his brow, his eyes dry from the hours and hours of looking at and reviewing documents for the hawthorne foundation. he doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting at his desk for, as the hours started blending together. he moves his gaze from the stacked papers to the computer screen in front of him, hoping that he’ll concentrate better. the screen blurs, sharpens, and blurs again. he sighs out of annoyance and exhaustion, running a hand through his hair.

not only is he exhausted, but an irritating cough is beginning to take over. it’s been persistent and it’s clear it’s not going away any time soon. nevertheless, he’s ignoring it—just like he’s ignoring his aching eyes and sluggish feeling in his limbs. he’s fine, like he always is. like he always should be. he has to be.

as for you, you haven’t seen grayson all day today and you decide to go looking for him. honestly, it didn’t take much looking as you knew exactly where he’d be. he hasn’t moved from his office all day. on your way towards the door, you brace yourself for the sight you’ll see.

you carefully creak open the door and his heavy-lidded eyes look up to see you, yet he continues his typing. his usually perfectly styled hair is messy, the blond strands going in different directions. truthfully, you can’t help but notice how good he looks despite his current state.

“gray,” you began softly. “you need to rest. you’re working yourself too hard.” you step closer until you’re in front of his desk. you rest your hands on the edge of the desk, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“there’s no need, love. i’m fine.” he knows it’s a lie, and he’s aware that you know too. however, on the slight chance that you don’t know, he tried to alleviate your concern.

obviously, you’re aware of his worsening state and he realizes that once you arch a brow at him. he can’t stop the corners of his lips from lazily turning up in amusement as you use his trademark brow raise against him.

“really, i’m—” his reassurance is cut off by a harsh cough, almost like it wants to prove him wrong. he sighs, “i’m alright.”

your brows furrow at the sound of his cough and your worry skyrockets. you give him an incredulous look. “‘alright’?” you repeat. “you basically just coughed up a lung, gray. you’re getting sick as well.”

he looks at you for a moment, his gaze softening as he takes in your worry for him. “i need to finish today’s work, sweetheart.”

you sigh and step around his desk, stopping in front of him with folded arms. “you can finish later. the foundation won’t crumble if you don’t finish everything in a singular day. what you need to do is rest,” you say quietly but your words are firm.

he looks up at you from the desk chair and, god, is it a sight to behold. he sighs once he realizes you won’t let this go. slowly, he stands up with a soft grunt. your eyes follow his, now looking up at him.

“and if i told you i didn’t need rest?” he asks, trying his luck.

“i wouldn’t believe you for a second,” you answer immediately. a fond smile graces his face, but is quickly wiped away with another cough.

you take his wrist gently and turn, exiting his office and heading for his room as he follows behind. “you’re gonna relax while i get you medicine, okay? let me take care of you.”

grayson loathes the idea of laying on his bed, helpless and miserable from his sickness. what he hates even more is being ordered, when it should be the other way around. however, he doesn’t object. if you’re the one ordering him, he’ll listen. he always will.

so, when you two reach his room, he reluctantly makes his way inside and gets on the bed. meanwhile, you head to the kitchen to grab his medicine.

when you get back to his room with a container of pills and a bottle of water, you see him sitting on his bed, his back against the headboard. he’d figured that he’d sit up instead of fully laying down because at least that way he’d feel less defenseless.

you sigh and place the items on his nightstand. “i said lay down, gray,” you say with a pointed look.

he arches a brow at you. it’s a sight you’ve seen many times, but it never fails to make your stomach do flips. “what you said, love, was relax,” he corrects you gently, his words laced with subtle amusement.

you roll your eyes and walk to the other side of the bed to get in next to him. “same thing,” you retort.

“not quite,” he murmurs, a tired smile playing on his lips.

you roll your eyes in response, yet a breath of a laugh escapes your lips. in a moment of worry, you bring up your hand to his forehead. “you’re burning up,” you say, the concern in your voice clear. you gently brush a strand of hair away from his forehead.

“‘burning up’ is quite the exaggeration, sweetheart. i’m just a little warm. nothing to worry about,” he says, his voice hoarse.

you swear you could strangle this man for the amount of times he’s denied his sickness. though, even when sick, his voice is so soothing and ever so gentle that you’d listen to him talk for hours—even if it’s him denying his worsening state.

“‘nothing to worry about’?” you repeat. “gray, you’re overworked, exhausted, coughing, and running a fever. there are plenty of things to worry about,” you correct him while counting off his problems with your fingers.

he smiles and just reaches out to take your hand that’s holding up the number four from the list you’ve just made. he intertwines his fingers with yours. they fit together perfectly, like the final two pieces of a puzzle. “i’ll be alright,” he reassures you softly.

you sigh and shift so that you’re now laying down facing him and he does the same. with his free hand, he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. despite his reluctance and denial, an immense feeling of gratefulness washes over him. if you hadn’t dragged him out of his office, he’d probably be face down on his keyboard right now.

“i love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. his blue grey eyes gaze into yours with adoration and a softness reserved only for you.

you smile softly. “i love you, too. just rest, gray. i’ll be right here when you wake up,” you whisper.

almost immediately, he drifts off to sleep and his breathing evens out. you smile and close your eyes as well. honestly, you don’t even care that you could get sick. your only concern was for him. peacefully, you two sleep, your bodies wrapped in the other’s embrace and your breathing in sync.

[angelmurmur]

— five feet to be exact

warnings: none!

pairing(s): nash hawthorne x short!reader

a/n: i honestly don’t like this but i wanted to post, also i need nash hawthorne so bad it’s not even a joke anymore. this is especially for my shorter girlies — i’m not short myself, but i think this trope would be so cute

hawthorne house is a maze disguised as a mansion. you swear that you’ve passed through the same hallway twice already. even libby—who lives here—had to double back a few times when she was showing you around.

now, you’re making your way down the many, many stairs. if libby hadn’t given you a tour, you’d definitely head the wrong way and end up on the other side of the house.

despite your initial hopelessness, you eventually find the kitchen. after doing a quick scan of the countertop, you spot the coffee maker and smile. just what you were looking for.

your enthusiasm quickly fades when you realize you have to figure out what cabinet the mugs are stored in so you can actually get the coffee. with a sigh, you begin looking through each one.

open. not there. close. move to the next.

that tedious process is repeated countless times, your annoyance rising with every cabinet you close. how many cabinets does one house need?

finally, you spot the array of mugs. unfortunately for you, they’re sitting on the second highest shelf. in order of lowest to highest, it goes: short glasses, tall glasses, wine glasses, mugs, and then teacups at the very top.

clearly, this was not designed for people under 5’5. you look up, mentally preparing yourself for the struggle.

you stretch your arm all the way up. once that doesn’t work, as expected, you resort to standing on your tippy toes. you groan out of frustration as you barely graze the very edge of the shelf with your fingertips.

you can’t even hop on the counter because, one, this isn’t your house and you shouldn’t treat it like it is—let alone a house as polished and expensive as this. and two, if someone walked in on you kneeling on their counter, it’d be quite embarrassing.

instead, you place your left hand on the counter and push while you reach with your right, hoping it’ll do something—anything. within seconds, you accept that you’re not getting that mug any time soon.

so, you decide to just not get coffee at all. you sigh and get off your tippy toes, glaring at the cabinet while you close it like it had personally wronged you.

you turn around to head back to your room but stop when you nearly bump into a figure—a figure that’s a whole foot and another couple inches taller than you.

you let your eyes soak in the sight in front of you. worn cowboy boots, faded blue jeans, and a plain white shirt. after taking in the clothing, you lift your gaze and lock eyes with the brown-haired man in the cowboy hat. it doesn’t take long for you to realize the man standing in front of you is nash hawthorne, in all his glory.

he smiles, an amused expression on his face as he observes you. then, he breaks the silence. “don’t be a quitter, darlin’,” he drawls, clearly entertained.

judging by the amusement in his eyes, he’d watched your struggle from the moment you reached up to the moment you huffed and turned around. that fact causes your cheeks to warm up.

“i’m not a quitter,” you respond defensively. “i’ve just … changed my mind.”

he raises one of his brows at your painfully obvious lie. he hums in response, clearly not convinced. “what’re ya, four feet?” he teases with that ever charming country accent. he walks past you and over to the cabinet.

“very funny, i haven’t heard that one before,” you respond dryly and he lets out a chuckle.

you turn around, watching his actions. with ease, his 6’2 frame grabs the mug you had worked so hard to reach and hands it over to you.

you grab the mug from his hand and murmur a small, “thank you.”

“my pleasure, darlin’,” he responds, his smile lingering.

the way the nickname rolls off of his tongue so effortlessly makes your stomach flutter.

you make your way over to the coffee maker, to which he tilts his head. “coffee at three in the afternoon?” he questions, folding his arms. he leans his back against the counter, turning his head to look at you.

you look up at him. “cowboy hat indoors?” you retort, and he lets out a hearty chuckle that fills the room.

“touché.”

your coffee is made in silence while nash stays next to you. you can feel his eyes on you as you move, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

eventually, he speaks. “you lib’s friend?” he asks with that ever so charming country accent.

“mhm. i’m staying for the weekend,” you answer, adding the sweetener to your cup of coffee, the liquid turning from dark brown to a lighter shade.

he nods at your confirmation. “nash hawthorne,” he introduces himself, tipping his hat.

you snort. “i’m aware.” at your acknowledgement he simply shrugs, a wry smile playing on his lips.

you could tell that he wasn’t like the narratives that the news relate with the last name hawthorne. he’s not a man who doesn’t bother to introduce himself, expecting people to know who he is—even though they probably do. clearly, his last name and status don’t influence his actions, and you can’t help but admire him for that fact.

after you introduce yourself in turn, you two fall into silence once again. it’s not awkward, but it’s not necessarily comfortable. at least, not for you. you honestly can’t tell whether it is or not for nash—does he always look this laidback? judging by his demeanor, you guess that he does.

“there you are!”

you turn around to see libby, her blue hair blowing gently as she walks over to you. you could spot her from a mile away in this house, the blue of her hair a striking contrast to the white walls.

you let out a small breath of relief at her entrance and smile at her. “just getting a cup of coffee.”

nash chimes in, his voice deep and smooth. “correction, darlin’. i got the cup, you got the coffee. y’couldn’t even reach the cup,” he quips with an easy smile.

you roll your eyes. “i almost had it.”

he snorts, raising a brow to show his obvious disbelief. “almost had it?” he repeats. “you almost dislocated your shoulder reachin’ for that mug.”

libby looks between you and nash, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “looks like you two are getting along.”

nash nods in confirmation, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns back to libby. “she was having trouble, thought i’d offer some assistance.”

libby smiles mischievously and you brace yourself for what she’s about to say. “assistance with the coffee?” she asks. “or… other things?” she adds, the suggestive undertone of her voice not lost on you.

you widen your eyes, shooting libby a warning glance and clear your throat loudly. “coffee. just the coffee, libby.”

she smiles and shrugs. noticing the tension between you and nash, she changes the subject for your sake. “avery’s been looking for you, she wants to show you around the gardens.”

“right, i’ll go find her,” you answer quickly, eager to escape the situation.

as you turn to leave, you and nash lock eyes. “don’t get lost,” he says with a smile, his voice low.

you scoff in amusement at his warning. “i’ll try not to.” although you know you probably will.

he chuckles in response. “just holler, darlin’, i’ll find ya,” he says, and by his tone, you can tell he genuinely means it.

you flash him a smile and walk off, libby following next to you. all the while, you can feel nash’s gaze on you until you’re out of his line of sight. as you go find avery, you can’t help but wonder what your weekend at hawthorne house—or more specifically, nash hawthorne—will bring.

[angelmurmur]

— blueberry scones

warnings: none!

pairing(s): xander hawthorne x reader

“the recipe says half a cup of sugar!”

“that’s what i’m doing!” xander insists as he pours what is clearly way more than half a cup.

you two had picked the easiest type of scones to make—blueberry. of course, you’ve still found a way complicate it.

“xan, that’s like, four cups,” you deadpan.

he tuts and sets the bag of sugar down on the kitchen island, which is still dusted with flour from your previous fight. “you’re underestimating my measurement skills.”

you and xander have been bickering for the past ten minutes over a fairly simple task. the problem is, xander claims that he’s done this so many times that he doesn’t even need instructions. you, on the other hand, insist that the recipe has to be strictly followed.

“no, you’re overestimating your skill.”

he lets out a terribly dramatic gasp. “overestimating? you’re heartless.”

you open your mouth to double down on your statement, but he cuts you off with a raise of his hand before you can even begin.

“how about we just divide and conquer? you can do half of the things by the rulebook,” he says the last word in a mocking tone that makes you frown. “and i can do the other half my way—the better way. deal?”

you hesitate for a moment, but curiosity gets the better of you.

“deal.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

once the scones are done, you’re both sitting on stools in front of the island, the warm plate of scones between you. xander picks up a scone and you follow suit.

“cheers!” he holds up his scone towards you.

you laugh and lift your scone as well, lightly bumping it against his. “cheers.”

as soon as you taste it, a soft hum of approval involuntarily escapes your lips. despite your disagreement on how to follow the recipe, you have to admit that the scone tasted surprisingly good.

“you definitely added too much sugar,” you recall, glancing over at xander who’s now biting into his second scone.

he grins unapologetically. “and yet, it’s pure perfection.”

[angelmurmur]

— watching from afar

warnings: none!

pairing(s): grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: aaaa my first fic!! it’s definitely far, far from perfect so sorry about that, feel free to give me some pointers but pls don’t be mean about it

lighthearted laughter fills the air, the atmosphere tranquil. currently, you’re at the beach with grayson and his half sisters, savannah and gigi. it’s summer and gigi called you, itching to hang out. in fact, you remember her desperate—and quite dramatic—plea while you were on facetime. “pleaseeee, i’m like a wilting flower desperate for some attention from the ever so beloved sun!” she begged. gigi, with her limitless energy, always had a way of dragging you into her plans.

as always, her pleading had worked. though, it didn’t really take much convincing as you were equally as desperate and eager to enjoy the golden beach. somehow, you managed to persuade grayson not only to drive, but also to partake in the beach activities. he wasn’t thrilled by the idea of getting grilled under the hot texas sun, but he’d do just about anything for his lovely girl. in turn, when gigi found out grayson was coming along, she forced savannah to attend so it could be a little family outing.

now, you and gigi are in the water, which is comfortably warm from the heat of the sun. or maybe it just feels warm because of how long you two have been playing in it. you wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. just for confirmation, you hold your fingers up to your face. they’re pruney—that checks out.

you and gigi are splashing each other playfully, your heads turned to the side to avoid droplets of water hitting your faces. you quickly glance at her from time to time just to make sure the water is hitting your target and she does the same. you look down for a split second to fix your bathing suit. just then, a large splash of water is sent right to your face. you gasp, looking back up to see gigi stifling her laughter.

“that’s unfair, gi, you distracted me!” you protest between laughs, moving your hands through the waves to send water launching towards gigi in retaliation. she sputters from the salty taste of the ocean water and you giggle, which earns you a wave of water crashing into your face once again.

the late afternoon sun reflects against the water, painting the sky with gorgeous shades of gold and orange. the waves crash gently against the shore, the sound creating a sense of peace and contentment within you. oh, how you love the summertime.

meanwhile, grayson stands on the beach, watching you two—or more specially, you. to anybody else on the beach he might look like a creep standing there, but he’s simply just admiring you. it’s habit at this point. he admires your melodic laughter, the way your drenched hair sprays droplets of water everywhere with every movement, the way you and his youngest sister giggle together. just you.

savannah, who’s tanning and unbothered, happens to observe grayson’s unwavering gaze that’s fixed on you. she gets up from the towel she was laying on and begins walking, coming to a halt next to grayson. “you have to realize you’re not exactly being subtle,” she says flatly, turning her head to face him with a knowing look.

“i’m aware. i wasn’t trying to be,” he responds, his voice steady and controlled. seconds after, you look over to see both of them staring at you and gigi. you attempt a wave, but gigi takes the opportunity of your distracted state and tackles you into the water with a smile, eliciting a squeal out of you that's followed by laughter.

the corners of grayson’s lips quirk up into a faint smile as you and his sister play fight, both laughing and completely carefree.

savannah looks at grayson, studying his expression with a sharp and perceptive gaze. she smirks and looks back out at the water.

“you’re in love with her,” she states bluntly.

despite grayson’s need tendency to always be calm and in control, his head snaps towards savannah and he finds himself at a loss for words. grayson knows she’s one to pull punches, but he’s still surprised nonetheless. you and him haven’t used the “L word” yet. it’s something he’s been thinking about whenever he’s around you, but to hear the fact stated to certainly throws him off track.

grayson turns his gaze back to you. “bold… assumption,” is all he can manage to get out. the words are uncharacteristically clipped and strained for grayson hawthorne.

savannah snorts and looks at him skeptically. “whatever you say,” she says in a tone that lets grayson know she’s confident in said assumption. at that, she turns and strolls back to the towel she was tanning on, leaving grayson alone with his now racing thoughts.

he sighs and turns his attention back to you, trying to push savannah’s statement out of his mind. grayson watches as you and gigi are now… playing charades? gigi’s guessing, you’re doing the silent actions. her brows are furrowed in concentration as she tries name what you’re mimicking. you hold something invisible in your closed fist, waving it around in the air pointedly. then, you use your hands and form circles with them, putting them over your eyes to mimic glasses. gigi still doesn’t get it and you let out a chuckle. finally, you bring your pointer finger and draw a small zig zag line on your forehead.

gigi jumped up and her eyes widened as she came to realization. “harry potter!” she shouts as if she’s solved a sherlock holmes mystery.

a breath of a laugh escapes his lips at the sight of you and gigi cheering and laughing after she guessed correctly.

yeah, he thinks. he’s irrevocably, hopelessly, utterly in love with you.

[angelmurmur]

grayson hawthorne masterlist ۪ ⊹

౨ৎ | watching from afar

౨ৎ | take a break

౨ৎ | stay

౨ৎ | days in the sun

— pt. 2 ౨ৎ | nights in the rain

[angelmurmur]

lia zhang masterlist ۪ ⊹

౨ৎ | let the light in

౨ৎ | wasted