#Jameson

[adddddiiii]

Unexpected Encounters

Contents: Boss!Grayson Hawthorne x employee!reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, one use of y/l/n

Your first day working at Hawthorne Foundation had been nothing short of overwhelming. Between the flurry of introductions, navigating the massive building, and figuring out how to keep up with your enigmatic new boss, Grayson Hawthorne, you were utterly spent.

Grayson had been... commanding to say the least. Polished and poised, he seemed to glide through the office like he owned the very air inside it. You'd hardly gotten through your introduction before he'd handed you a file and said, "I need this checked and organised by tomorrow. Don't fail me."

The weight of his words stayed with you all day. By the time you'd left the Foundation, you decided you needed a drink — and maybe a loud, crowded space to drown out your thoughts.

Which is how you ended up at a club downtown with a couple of friends. The music was pulsing, neon lights casting shadows and colours across the packed dance floor. You were nursing a cocktail at the bar, finally starting to unwind, when you felt it: the unmistakable sensation of someone's gaze on you.

Turning slightly, your eyes locked with a pair of familiar steel-gray ones.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Your stomach dropped. What the hell was he doing here?

He was leaning casually against the bar a few feet away, dressed sharply in a black button-up and dark slacks. If he'd noticed your panic, he didn't show it. Instead, he stared at you expressionlessly, lifting his drink in a silent toast before pushing off the bar and walking toward you.

"Miss y/l/n," his was voice was smooth and low and somehow audible over the music. "I didn't expect the see you here."

You blinked. Your gripped tightened around your glass. "Mr Hawthorne," you replied, doing your best to sound composed. "I could say the same."

"Grayson," he corrected. "We're not at work now."

Outside of the sterile walls of the office, he seemed different. More relaxed, though still uptight.

"I didn't think you were the clubbing type." You raised an eyebrow at him.

His lips twitched into a slight smirk. "I could say the same."

You felt your cheeks heat. "It's been a long day. I needed a break."

"First days can be exhausting," he said, his tone lighter than expected. "But from what I saw, you handled yourself well."

The compliment caught you off guard. "Thanks."

Grayson tilted his head and studied you like you were a particularly interesting puzzle. "You're unlike most people I work with."

"How so?"

"You're not afraid to look me in the eye." He took a sip of his drink. "Most people avoid it. Intimidation, I suppose."

You let out a breathless laugh. "Believe me, you're still intimidating."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound. "Noted."

For a moment, the two of you stood there. The chaotic energy of the club continued on around you and the weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, yet you couldn't look away.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked suddenly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You stared at him, caught between disbelief and intrigue. "Are you serious?"

"Completely."

You hesitated for only a moment before setting your drink on the bar and taking his outstretched hand.

As he led you to the dance floor, you wondered if this night was the beginning of something you'd never see coming — and maybe something you couldn't resist.

[celticculture]

[magnetadraww]

🍓

[hexxeddorm]

cowboys are frequently secretly fond of each other.

[hiamnoal]

NEW YAOI JAMESON FANART DROPPED 😮❗❗❗

[ba11ltongue]

[n3wstxd]

hear me out

dilf jason…90s james…say gex…

i mean dirty sweaty disgustingly down bad sex

ok thanks for listening to my Ted talk

edit: you’re all freaks. i love it. i’ll add a link once I’m done writing this

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: that time of the month

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: you’re on your period and it couldn’t be worse!! the cramps are killing, you’re moody and you just want to sleep… luckily jameson is there to help you through it

warnings: the reader is on her period of that makes you uncomfortable don’t read this fic :))

a/n: idk why it’s taking me 10 years to post fics, sorry guys

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @eternal--dream

My eyes are tightly shut, trying to get some rest. I’m exhausted of being in pain, but not even sleep can relieve me from it. My body refuses to shut down, it’s like it wants me to suffer.

I hear the back door open and his familiar footsteps. He puts his key in drawer like he always does and takes his shoes off. Unfortunately for him each one of those sounds makes me want to rip his head off, put it on a stick and display it as a centre piece on the dining room table.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

I don’t reply. I don’t have the energy, patience or anger management to come up with anything remotely nice in response.

“What are you doing here in the dark?” Jameson asks, a delicate concern nestling in his throat.

“Go and die in hell,” I groan, trying to press the heat pack closer to my body which is proving aggravatingly impossible.

“Nice to see you to,” he scoffs.

I glare at him, “I’m not in the mood for your pathetic jokes.”

“Woah princess,” he says raising his arms above his head, as if he’d been convicted of a crime, “what did I do?”

“Just leave me alone,” I reply, my voice harsher than I intended.

He kneels down by the edge of the bed and placed a tentative hand on my forehead, “are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay Jameson? Do I seriously look okay to you curled up into a ball under the covers suppressing tears?” I snap, a fiery irritation causing my foul tone, “is that okay to you?”

His eyes only soften, “what’s wrong my love?”

“What isn’t wrong is the better question,” I say to him, as my brushes hair out of my face.

“Tell me,” he murmurs, gentle hands not leaving my skin, “even if the list is three hundred years long.”

“I’m in pain,” I explain, my words mushing into on mess of sounds rather than an actual sentence.

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” I groan, “my back, my legs, my head, my stomach.”

Jameson’s eyebrows pinch in concern, “oh sweetie-“

“I’m not done,” I snarl with a look in my eyes that made his mouth immediately snap shut.

“Oh sorry,” he says quickly.

“And no painkillers are ever helping,” I finish, feeling pretty sorry for myself.

“Awwww,” he sighs, “do you want a hug?”

“No piss off,” I spit, scowling at him, “I don’t want your pity.”

Jameson fights a smile, “it’s not pity, princess.”

“It feels like pity,” I grumble, trying to fight the desire to bury myself deep into his arms and fall asleep.

“I promise you it’s not,” he says.

“Just go away,” I reply stubbornly, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Let me help you,” he murmurs, touching my arms softly.

“But if you stay then I’ll get into a fight with you over something meaningless and then it’ll make me feel worse,” I mumble.

“There are no fights happening, okay?” he soothes.

I sigh and let him sit down beside me. Slowly I crawl into his lap, curling up in his safe arms and pressing myself up against his body.

“I hate this,” I groan into his chest.

“I’m sure the pain will get better,” he says softly, running his fingers through my hair in a rhythmic pattern.

“Oh so you’ve had such searing pain in your uterus that it feels like it’s going to claw out your insides, huh?” I bite back.

“On seconds thoughts-“

“You know I don’t want to be this mad, okay?” I tell him, feeling overwhelmed by guilt all of a sudden for being so horrible. It’s not his fault I’m in pain, “I just don’t know why I’m mad-“

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay,” Jameson murmurs, “come here.”

He wraps his arms around my torso and I cling to him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells like Jameson. He smells like home. He leans back so we both fall into a half laying down half sitting up position. I wrap my legs around his body, attaching myself to him. Slowly I let my eyelids droop until they eventually fall shut enclosing me into a silent darkness.

Still my body won’t let me sleep, no matter how much I want to or how hard I try, I can’t get comfortable enough to ignore the pain.

“I can’t sleep,” I mumble.

“That’s okay,” he replies.

“It’s not,” I huff, frustrated, “because if I don’t sleep then I’ll be exhausted and I hate feeling exhausted and then I’ll get moody because I’m exhausted which will suck becsuse I hate being moody and I know when I’m being moody but sometimes I’m so moody I don’t know how to not be moody and then I’ll be horrible to you and you’re not trying to help which I’ll feel so guilty for and then I’ll feel even guiltier when you tell me not to worry but if you don’t tell me not to worry then I’ll still feel guilty and then after all that I’ll still be in this pain, exhausted, now frustrated, guilty and upset.”

He lets me vent. He doesn’t cut me off or try to fix my problems. He just lets me ramble, only slowly drawing circles on my back with his thumbs. And I love him for it, he knows I need to get this all off of my chest right now, he can sense my crazy hormonal brain.

“Well,” he says slowly, “I have something that might make you feel a little tiny bit better.”

“Yeah?” I sniff, propping myself up.

He lifts his knees so I could lean back on them and then pulls something out of his pocket. I gasp softly, my eyes filling with hearts. I could’ve surged forwards and kissed his face right there and then.

“I bought you some chocolate,” he grins, his eyes sparkling.

“Chocolate,” I repeat breathlessly, almost moved to tears over a chocolate bar.

“Your special chocolate,” he adds putting the bar into my hands.

He didn’t only buy me chocolate but my favourite chocolate in the whole world. I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love.

I beam at him, “you know you’re my favourite person in the whole world right now.”

“Just now?” he raises a playful eyebrow, the classic Hawthorne smirk decorating his face.

“Forever,” I correct myself, leaning forwards to kiss the top of his nose.

“I knew you were due on soon so I was stocking up today,” he shrugs, “but it seems you were early this time around.”

“Stupid period can’t stay on schedule,” I grumble.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, tucking my hair behind my ears, “eat some chocolate.”

I sigh and unwrap the bar. I bite into the chocolate and the flavour envelopes my tongue. No words can describe how good it feels when a craving like this is satisfied. I savour the sweetness, closing my eyes.

He remembered my favourite chocolate bar, he remembered to buy it because I was due on and he remembered that I crave chocolate on my periods. How did I get so lucky? He’s so kind, so considerate, so loving. I don’t deserve him.

Jameson’s voice reels me in from my thoughts,“why are you crying princess?”

I look to him, noticing how his eyebrows are pinched in concern and how his eyes shimmer with worry.

It’s only after I register what he’s said that I realise my face is damp and there’s a tear falling down my left cheek. I hadn’t even realised.

“I don’t know,” I force a laugh, snivelling slightly.

“Come here,” Jameson murmurs gently, pulling me back into his chest.

It’s like all the noise in my brain just shuts up when I’m in his arms, like whatever’s going on suddenly means nothing. He is able to silence the overbearing noise that I can’t. My ear is pressed up against his chest. I can hear his heart beating. A comforting constant beating. That beating fills my heart. If I heard it on loop forever and I don’t think I’d ever get bored.

“Can we stay like this?” I mumble into him.

“Forever if you like,” he replies.

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” he hums in my ear, sending a tingly sensation through my body.

“We should put a movie on,” I say after a while.

He nods in agreement. “we should.”

“And get blankets,” I grin excitedly.

“You read my mind,” he winks.

“And every sweet snack in existence!”

“Purchased already,” he shrugs with a smile.

I pull his face into mine and kiss him slowly.

“You taste like chocolate,” he grins as we pull away.

I shrug, “that’s your fault.”

“Who said I was complaining?” he smirks, kissing me again.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

“I love you too princess,” he replies against mine.

is this lowkey me rn because I’m on my period, yes 100%!! do I have a jameson to comfort me, no no I do not 😔😔

IF ONLY I WAS A FICTIONAL GIRRRLLLL … but I’m not *sigh* I’m a real life girl crushing on fictional men 💔💔

TIG masterlist

[starrynightsxo]

jameson: *breathes*

me & the fandom: *claps in appreciation* jameson hawthorne, the man you are.

[nerimk]

jameson blessing

[undead-knick-knack]

What a wild turn of events

(the painting is "Centaures" (1868) by Eugene Fromentin)

[lafleshlumpeater]

jameson hawthorne save me

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 56: Jessica's Soiree

Previous > Masterlist > Next

September 1905

tw: mind control, dehumanization, slavery, blood drinking, assault

Fitz couldn't stop fidgeting with his mask. He'd adorned both his and Lex's masks with as many sequins and feathers as he could fit, procured under protest by Lex, who insisted that neither of them should stand out.

Ever since he'd given in to his desire for Lex, life had become far more interesting and rewarding. As soon as they had realized there was no need to pretend to be aloof, they spent the night entangled in each other more often than not, an arrangement that suited Fitz just fine. Fitz draped himself across Lex's lap while reading, allowed himself to be held close to the vampire's chest while sleeping, distracted Lex with his hands while he played the piano, accepted blissful shoulder rubs accompanied by cold lips trailing down his neck.

Fitz felt more comfortable with himself than he had in a long time. Lex seemed greatly cheered by it, as well, despite his dangerous ongoing quest to enthrall hunters weighing on his mind. He smiled more, spent more time with his music. He never seemed to miss an opportunity to run his fingers through Fitz's hair or nuzzle into the nape of his neck, looking at Fitz as if he was the eighth wonder of the world, a sight Fitz never tired of.

Tonight, though, Lex was more nervous than he'd been in some time. "You really don't have to accompany me to this, Fitz," he said. "It's going to be unpleasant, and you may see things you'd consider distasteful."

"How many people ever get the chance to attend a vampire's ball -- well, and still be in their right minds? I couldn't possibly miss it. Besides, don't you want to show me off in front of everyone?"

"No," said Lex firmly. "As much as I'd love to display you to the world, vampires' envy is a dangerous thing. If any vampire there dare lay hands on you -- well. Try to be careful, for both of our sakes, will you?"

Fitz grinned. "You know me. I'm always careful."

They arrived at the ballroom a little past nine. The masquerade ball was an annual affair run by several old and fashionable vampires of the city. According to Lex, anyone who was anyone in vampire society was expected to be there, and bring their high-class thralls with them as though they were prized pets at a dog show. Fitz was eager to see what the upper crust of vampire society was like, and untroubled by Lex's warnings. He knew how to conduct himself at a ball, and had an unusual appetite for the distasteful. Lex seemed like a sensitive soul for a vampire, so to speak, so Fitz found it hard to take his warnings completely seriously.

Lex only hesitated slightly before pushing the door open. The ballroom was full of mingling vampires dressed in expensive, dazzling costumes, a sea of rainbow colors and intricate lace and ornate embroidery and glittering gemstones.

It didn't take long for Fitz to see the distasteful sights Lex had warned him about. Scanning the room, he saw that while some thralls were walking beside their masters freely, like he was, many more were entrapped in some obvious way. They were dressed in costumes as elaborate as their masters', with bindings made of silk ribbon and golden handcuffs encrusted in jewels. All of the thralls' costumes revealed their necks, and most revealed much more. Most were kneeling beside their vampire masters, looking demurely at the ground or staring blankly into space as the vampires laughed and talked. There were a few humans chained to the wall, with dazed expressions and fresh wounds on their necks. Fitz watched as a vampire approached one and sunk her fangs in, realizing that these humans were the refreshments.

The sight of the enthralled humans should have repulsed him, but he couldn't fight the confusing swirl of feelings in his heart as he watched a handsome young man, wearing only shorts and and a jeweled leash, gazing up at his master with entranced adoration. The thought of serving Lex so completely was terrifying and enticing in turn, and Fitz had to look away.

"Welcome, esteemed sir." A hypnotized human approached Lex as he stepped into the room, her vacant, lidded eyes barely able to focus as she curtsied low. "May I please interest you in an hors d'oeuvre?"

Lex glanced at Fitz. "It's… polite to partake, when offered," he said apologetically. He took the thrall's chin in his hand, looked her in the eye, and hummed a simple tune of obedience and pleasure. The thrall's eyes dulled further, accompanied by a dazed smile, and she let out a soft sound of pleasure as Lex sipped from the wound on his neck.

As Fitz's conflicting thoughts intensified, he doubted for the first time his decision to accompany Lex here.

"Oh my! Is that Mr. Alexander I see?" called a woman's voice. As Lex let the hors d'oeuvre thrall go on his way, they were approached by a woman in an elaborate dress of fine pink silk, decorated with silk flowers and rhinestones. Everything from her hair to her mask to her shoes seemed carefully considered and smacked of money and taste. A delicate golden leash allowed her to pull along a stupefied-looking young man with exceptionally handsome features and an equally gaudy gown. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Good evening, Lady Jessica," said Lex politely. "I appreciate your invitation. It seems you've outdone yourself this time. The ballroom is impeccable."

"Oh, I have. Wait until you hear the music I've hired -- it's enough to please even the most particular of music lovers, I should hope." She turned to Fitz with an eager gleam in her eye. "And what is this pretty little thing?"

"My name is Fitz, sir," he interjected just as Lex went to speak for him.

"Oh, my. So adorable and so bold! Mr. Alexander, I'd heard you had acquired quite the thrall for yourself, but if I had realized he was this irresistible, I would have surely stopped by your manor. I can't believe you were keeping something this delightful all cooped up in your dusty old library."

"Yes, I purchased him at the last major auction," said Lex stiffly.

Before Fitz could protest being treated like a show pony, Lady Jessica stepped closer to him and all of his protests… and thoughts… slowed… down.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" said Lady Jessica, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead.

"Sweet…" Fitz murmured in a daze, swaying gently as Lady Jessica pawed at him. His own thoughts felt like soap bubbles, empty and popping as soon as he tried to grasp at them, replaced with simpler, honeyed images of subservience.

"You'd look so darling if only I could dress you. I can think of at least half a dozen outfits in my thralls' wardrobe that would look just perfect on you," she cooed. "Perhaps your master would arrange a trade for my thrall? Just for a weekend, perhaps?"

A sense of alarm tried to penetrate the cotton candy that clouded Fitz's mind. "No, I…" he said, trying to explain, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. "…I want Master. I want to serve my Master."

"Aww! How absolutely precious!"

Lex stepped between Fitz and Lady Jessica, and Fitz mercifully felt his head start to clear. "I'm afraid that Fitz is not for sale or trade, for any price or any length of time."

"You're no fun," said Lady Jessica with a mock pout. "It's hardly fair of you to keep this thrall to yourself. But I understand. If he were mine, I wouldn't let a single soul touch him either."

"I'm glad we understand each other," said Lex. "If you'll excuse me, I see an old dear friend that I'd like to say hello to."

Fitz shook his head, coming back to his senses. "What the hell was that? What did she do to me?"

"Oh, that was Lady Jessica. Her aura basically removes human intelligence. Sorry you got caught in that -- she's the hostess of this party so I had to be polite and make small talk, you know."

"There sure is a lot of required decorum for this vampire soiree," grumbled Fitz, still smarting from embarrassment. "I confess I expected vampires to be a bit more… freewheeling. Hedonistic."

"This is a gathering of powerful and rich vampires, and you don't become a powerful and rich vampire overnight. All of the vampires here have lived many decades, if not a century or more, and are very stuck in their ways. Even the hedonism has a dozen layers of social rules underpinning it."

Lex was approaching a vampire who was very practically attired compared to everyone else, with a plain blue afternoon dress and a simple black domino mask with a single feather. She was accompanied by a similarly dressed woman in her thirties or so. "Good evening, Edith. Good evening, Katherine. I'd like to introduce you to my… companion, Fitz." He turned to Fitz. "Dr. Edith is an old friend of mine. Her thrall, Katherine, has been with her for… what is it now?"

"About ten years," said Katherine. Fitz was relieved to see that Katherine wasn't visibly restrained or dazed in any way, simply standing next to her master and observing the crowd.

"Charmed to meet you," said Fitz. "Ten years is quite a long time to serve a vampire."

"With any luck, it'll be ten years more," she replied.

"Alexander, I'm so glad you have a thrall again after what happened to poor Edmund. I only wish I could have done more for him," said Edith.

"It wasn't your fault. You did what you could," said Alexander. "Say, I wanted to ask you how Evelyn's oldest is holding up, after her bout with the flu…"

The two vampires began chatting about names that Fitz had never heard, Katherine chiming in at points. Ordinarily, Fitz would try to involve himself in the conversation, ingratiating himself to anyone new he meets, but he found himself constantly distracted from the dull chit-chat by the uneasy but alluring soiree. Here were a couple of vampires laughing and talking while sipping from bloodied thralls. Here was a woman wearing little more than a collar and mask, kneeling on the floor and doing tricks for for her master. Here was an eerie pair of identical twins with identical blank expressions, chained together with intricate bonds.

His attention was drawn by a nearby group loosely surrounding a vampire in a very old-fashioned suit, at least a century out of date. The vampire was slowly swinging an ornate pocket watch in front of a young man's face, like a mesmerist from a vaudeville show. The unfortunate young man was swaying along with the watch, eyelids heavy and drooping, his jaw slack as a bit of drool dripped from his mouth and onto the floor.

He couldn't take his eyes off the man.

No, he couldn't take his eyes off the watch.

The way it flashed… its weight… its rhythm… he just needed to watch it… watch it swing… watch it sway… back and forth…

He needed to get closer…

He needed to watch… needed to sleep… needed to obey…

"Hey, watch where you're going, human!"

Fitz was shaken from his unexpected trance state when he accidentally collided with a large and angry-looking vampire in a poorly tailored suit. He looked around and realized that he couldn't see Lex -- he'd wandered off and been separated from his port in the storm.

"You're not with anyone," said the vampire. "Are you a refreshment boy? Finally, some decent blood."

The vampire leaned in with intent to feed, and Fitz found himself filled with an invasive and uncomfortable aura, rooting him to the spot and dazing his mind even as it felt like bugs crawling beneath his skin. Even as he screamed at himself to flee, his conditioning looped its invisible chains around him, keeping him frozen and silent. He existed to serve vampires, to be obedient to their wills. The desire to submit began to drag his consciousness under, as he slowly tilted his neck…

You're mine, he heard Lex sing in his mind, as he had on so many nights. Mine and no one else's.

"No!" he said, snapping himself out of it and pushing the unwanted vampire away. "I'm not a buffet item for your enjoyment, sir. And if you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to find my master."

Before Fitz could turn away, the front of his dress was pulled into an iron grip, enough that he was almost lifted off the ground. "How dare a mere thrall takes that tone with me. Your master must be a half-wit or a weakling, because they neglected to teach you how to behave around your superiors."

As usual, Fitz's mouth opened before he could stop himself. "And someone neglected to teach you how to wear clothes and comb your hair, sir. How does it feel to be dressed worse than your so-called inferior?"

He knew it was a mistake even as the words left his mouth. The furious vampire let go of his dress only to grab his wrist, twisting it and forcing Fitz onto his knees. "Know your place, filthy cattle."

Unable to escape, Fitz spit at him, right in his eye.

His all too brief life flashed before his eyes as the vampire pulled back his fist with murderous rage in his eyes. He was going to die here. His head was about to be mashed into paste by a stupid, clumsy vampire. His master was going to be so disappointed things turned out this way, but probably not particularly surprised.

"Excuse me, Jameson." Lex materialized from the crowd, grabbing onto the vampire's fist. "You need to take your hands off of my thrall. Now."

"This worthless piece of garbage spit in my face!"

"And you're manhandling my thrall," Lex practically growled in a tone Fitz had never before heard. "Let him go and leave him alone, and we'll call it even."

Jameson scoffed, but released Fitz's wrist, letting him collapse to the floor. "I was doing you a favor, Alexander," he said, towering at least a foot over Lex with a sneer on his face. "Your precious little thrall was deep in trance and heading straight towards Lord Edgar. It's obvious it's neglected and longing for a taste of actual power to put it where it belongs."

Lex glanced over at Fitz, who was smarting both from the pain in his wrist and the sheer humiliation of being caught out by hypnosis that wasn't even directed at him. "I would tell you not to speak of things you don't understand, Lord Jameson, but I suppose then you'd have very little to talk about."

The rage previously directed at Fitz was simmering in Lex's direction, now. "Insult me all you want. I still know you're full of it," he said. "They say you're one of the most powerful vampires in the city, but you can't even stop an empty-headed thrall like that from doing as it pleases. It's your sire who has all the real power. You must be such a disappointment."

"You think I'm unable to control a thrall?"

"I don't think it, I know it."

Cold determination set into Lex's face, and he began to sing, loud and clear and beautiful and captivating. The vampire ball faded and warped around Fitz as that voice filled his mind. Lex sang of control, of obedience, of bliss, of sleep. Deep, deep sleep. A sleep where the only thing that mattered was listening, a sleep where he could obey so easily even with his mind locked in slumber.

Fitz's curiosity about what Lex was doing was the only thing that allowed him to keep his drowsy eyes open. As he swayed in the grip of his master's irresistible song, he heard a yawn behind him, then a thump, and then a larger commotion. Even through his rapidly blurring vision, Fitz could see thralls falling to the song all around him, slipping to the floor as sleep overtook them.

And then, Fitz's desire to stay awake and see what would happen was consumed by the much deeper desire to obey the song, to shut his eyes, to let himself fall under the spell. He felt a drowsy smile spread across his face as he sank completely to the floor, feeling as if he could listen to the song and dream forever.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

I'm sure that won't come back to bite Fitz.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe

[magnetadraww]

Jason and James 🐰🦁

[hexxeddorm]

waitress jason inspired by all those crazy waitress bits james and jason had. ok bye.

[ju1ian]

Double date ❤️