#Jameson hawthorne fluff

[inmyheaddd]

kiss it off me - jameson hawthorne x reader

a/n: hold me.. console me.. then ill leave without a trace... woah i haven't posted a fic in a hot minute!!! this idea has been brewing in my mind since like october... may become a series, who knows!! anyway, i hope you enjoy 💖 wc: 5k synopsis: you and your long time best friend, jameson, meet up on a stranded beach to escape for a little while. who cares about anything else when the person you love looks hurt? warnings: tobias is alive in this, best friends who r inlove, what else is new?

Your leg bounced up and down in front of you as you waited, sitting on a bench overlooking the beach.

You came early so you’d have some alone time, time to think, but you quickly realised that was the worst idea ever, because you didn’t want to think.

You wanted to shut your mind off, you wanted to just be, and most of all, you just wanted to see Jameson.

So, there you sat, an hour earlier than the time you had agreed on with Jameson, wishing you had something to do other than sit and wonder and rattle your brain with thoughts. 

You’d been doing more than enough overthinking this winter.

The beach was a pretty sight, the sun starting to set, painting the sky shades of orange and pink, clouds looking like oversized strings of cotton candy in the sky. 

You let out a frustrated sigh of boredom, got up from the bench, and walked over to the sand. You looked around on the isolated beach—you were the only one here. 

Your family owned this strip of the beach, so you weren’t surprised that it was empty.

It had quickly become one of you and Jameson’s favourite hideout places. Not that you were particularly hiding from anything; it was more so just an escape from everything and everyone else. 

On that beach, nothing existed but you and Jameson, with the sand, the sky, and the sea.

You walked over to the blanket you always kept on the beach, folded and placed underneath a rock about twice the size of your fist to keep it from blowing away. 

You unfolded it, sat down, and entertained yourself by putting some breathing exercises into practice. Your therapist had given them to you months ago, but if you were being quite honest, you didn’t think of using them a single time after you left that room.

You weren’t even anxious; you were simply bored. You wished you had your headphones with you, or something to keep you company. 

The sun was setting even further; you stared out onto the beach in front of you and wished Jameson was seeing the sunset with you. Your favourites were the ones that had hints of pink and purples in them, while he liked the ones that ‘were golden and painted everything else golden too.’

He would love this one.

You then looked at your watch, which was a huge mistake. Whenever you thought about the time or checked it, it only seemed to pass infinitely slower.

Only 10 minutes had passed since you last checked. Another deep breath, and you exhaled it all as you held your head in your hands.

You brought your knees up to your chest and then hugged your arms around them. Your hoodie kept you warm, and so did the layers you had on underneath, but you still felt a weird shiver in your bones. You made a conscious effort to not check the time, then looked up. 

You turned your head left, seeing nothing but the beach, then right, and saw a figure far away, walking in your direction. 

The walk, the clothes, and the way this person began jogging once they spotted you—it all told you it was Jameson. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched on your face. You brought your arm up, waving wildly at him. He was closer now, and you could see the own grin on his face as he sent you a chin nod and waved back. 

You looked back at your legs as he finally approached the blanket you sat on. “Hey, you.’’ He breathed out, standing over you for a second and grinning, only a little out of breath after running 100 metres or so, just to get to you.

With a smile, you brought your gaze up to him, ‘’Hey there yourself,’’ you laughed through your sentence at the stupidity of the greeting.

“Pretty sunset, isn’t it?” He said

Just like how you had expected. “Yeah,” you nodded in appreciation of the sky, “It’s pretty.”

He suddenly tilted his head slightly. “You’re early,” he pointed out, and then with a furrow of his brow, he said, “How long have you been here?”

You ignored the last part of his question. You glanced at your watch before answering, “Technically, you’re also early. ’’

“Technically, I don’t care.” 

“Okay, still. Why are you early?” You insisted. If you were being honest, you were insanely thankful that he was here right now, and didn’t arrive an hour later like you’d originally planned.

You had absolutely no clue what you’d do for an hour, which seemed to stretch on forever when you were alone.

He was silent for a moment, then sighed as he finally sat down, leaning back with his legs outstretched, looking at you. ‘’I know you; I know you’d be early.’’

You quirked a brow up, despite the way your stomach erupted with butterflies. I know you. 

‘’Okay…?’’ You forced a chuckle, tearing your gaze away from Jameson and telling those butterflies in your stomach to respectfully leave and never come back. ‘’What does that have to do with you being early?’’

Jameson shrugged like it was obvious, looking at the sea when you finally looked at him again. ‘’I just wanted to spend more time with you.’’

The butterflies did not leave and never come back. 

You wished they would’ve, because Jameson was your friend. Your best friend, though you felt that friend wasn’t even a good enough term to describe what you were. 

You’d known each other since you were kids, been there for each other when your family wasn’t, and seen each other through just about every embarrassing phase there is. You often times felt as if you knew each other better than you knew yourselves. 

Friend didn’t cover it. 

But whatever he was, whatever your friendship was—it didn’t include romantic feelings. 

Again, you wished those millions of butterflies to go find someone else to torment.

“The real reason?” You prodded, raising a brow at him. 

‘’That is the real reason.’’ He protested, gasping in mock offence. ‘’Although, I wouldn’t be lying if I said that one of Xander’s started making a weird buzzing noise… And, well… Getting out of the house was the safest option."

You felt a little twang of disappointment, then you felt annoyed that you were feeling disappointed. “Since when did you care about safety?”

Jameson shot you a look. “Since I don’t want my eyebrows burnt off.” He deadpanned.

“Okay, fair.” You rolled your eyes with a slight laugh. "Well. I’m glad you’re here.’’ You said a little quieter. “With both of your eyebrows intact.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.” His eyes glinted with a smile, “With… both of my eyebrows intact.”

You were both silent for a second, holding back laughs as you looked at each other, until Jameson let out a snort— and you both started laughing.

You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head as you tried to control your giggles. 

God, could you get any more awkward? This was why you hated the idea of having feelings for him, because then you started to act different and make things awkward by saying things like I’m glad you’re here with both of your eyebrows intact.

You were a goner.

Your laughter died out, then you started talking about your respective days—the things that set you off, the things you waited to tell each other in person, overall, about nothing and everything.

After a moment of silence, you looked over at him, noticing a strange look on his face as he stared out at the horizon. There was a deep crease in his dark brows, his expression almost grim. You scooted a little closer to him.

“What’s up with you?” You nudged his shoulder gently. “You have that weird… furrow in your brow.” 

“Nothing's up with me.” He turned to look at you, offering one of those dangerously distracting Jameson Winchester Hawthorne grins for a moment.

But it didn’t work. It looked off and strained. “What’s up with you?”

“Deflecting and a weird look?” You raised your brow incredulously. “ We hang out too much for that lie to work on me.” 

He sighed dramatically, looking forward. The sky was shades of dark pink and orange now, the sun bouncing off the clouds and colouring them. 

Jameson looked at you once again, his green eyes looked extra inviting with the pink sky around him, like a dangerous sea you could get lost in, possibly never find your way out of, but one you almost wanted to get lost in nonetheless.

His eyes flickered over you, and you got the feeling he was trying to read your expression. “It’s times like these I wish you didn’t care about me." He said so casually, "Then I wouldn’t have to face my emotions.” 

The way he said it—without realising, he made it sound like there were other emotions, not just whichever ones he was dealing with right now. 

“Oh, don’t worry.” You responded jokingly, rolling your eyes the slightest bit. “I don’t care about you. Not in the slightest.” 

Jameson’s smile seemed a little less strained at that. “Wonderful.”

“Truly.”

“Agreed.” 

You let the silence stretch for a moment, seeing if he’d say anything else.

He didn’t.

If this were anyone else, you’d stay quiet.

But this was Jameson; your friendship meant more to you than the fear of being seen as annoying or pushy. Besides, you quickly learnt that Jameson wouldn’t talk unless he had that push, even if he did really want to.

“Okay, enough of these one-word answers.” You sighed, trying to mask the pure concern you felt with a light chuckle. “What the hell is wrong?” 

Jameson chuckled humourlessly, propping himself back up on his hands again. “You know how it is,” he said, “the usual.” 

“The usual as in the old man?” You deadpanned, “Or the usual as in you did something reckless to shut your brain off?” There was no point in beating around the bush, especially when you both knew each other more than anyone else in your life. 

Jameson didn’t meet your eyes. He shrugged casually, “The usual as in both.” 

Your heart tore a little at his words. You wondered if he was lying about one of Xander’s machines exploding. Then you thought about it; you knew Xander, and knew he often resorted to his robotics room when he felt hurt.

It was highly probable that Jameson wasn't lying. He just wasn't telling the full truth.

It was a Saturday. What could the old man have said that managed to ruin his grandsons like this?

You hated how Tobias could reduce your best friend to a mess of feelings and emotions—to a boy who felt like he wasn’t good enough and would never be—with just a few disapproving words.

Nobody should have that amount of power. Ever. 

You pressed your lips together for a moment. “I don’t like your grandpa. Not one bit.”

“That's funny.” That dry, sad chuckle of Jameson’s was killing you. He ran a hand through his hair. Roughly. “He rather likes you. Says you’re a bright girl, a good influence for me.”

“I told you, Jameson,” your voice came out softer than you intended, “I don’t care about anything he has to say.” 

He called Jameson ordinary. 

Jameson felt like he was betraying Tobias for simply telling you what he said.

That was the moment you lost respect for the man.

“Everything he says is bullshit. If you don’t want to talk about it, I get that.” You paused for a second, watching his expression and waiting for him to meet your eyes. 

The second he did, you almost wished he didn’t, because the look of sheer hurt in his eyes almost made you lose your breath. 

’But Jamie…” You couldn’t hide the worry on your face anymore. “Please know whatever he says isn’t worth anything. If you’re going to trust me on one thing, let it be that.”

Jameson was silent for a moment, looking down at the sand. His voice came out hoarse, then he finally met your eyes. “I trust you with everything.” 

You managed a little smile because you had a feeling that if you didn’t, you would’ve probably teared up instead. “You still wishing I didn’t care about you?”

Jameson shut his eyes for a moment, chuckling. “God, no.” He admitted. “I don’t even know what I’d do without you.”

He said the last part so simply, so matter-of-factly, you almost didn’t catch it until you realised what he said.

“If it’s any consolation,” you started, a slow smile dragging on your lips, “I trust you with everything, too.”

Jameson went still for a moment, something shifting in his expression.

He masked it so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so closely.

Then his grin slowly returned. “Some would say that’s a dangerous choice.” His voice was playful, but his eyes told a different story.

“I don’t mind dangerous.” You shrugged.

Now his eyes turned teasing. “You probably should.”

You rolled your eyes at the irony, but you still couldn’t even manage a small laugh because of the moments prior. “Look who’s talking, Jamie.”

“Hey, I do mind it sometimes,” He raised his hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, I like playing dangerous; I’m simply saying... I don’t like playing it dangerous when it comes to us.”

Us. He said that like it was something important to him.

“Yeah.” You tried not to overthink what he just said. He didn’t want to play it dangerous, as in he cared about your friendship so much? Or was he trying to say he didn’t want to take it any further than friends? And let you down slowly? Or was he saying the opposite, that he was scared to?

Your eyes flickered over his face as your thoughts ran, finally focusing on his eyes. “Good. We’re keeping us safe.”

He ran a hand through his hair, smiling at you. “Good.” He echoed.

After that, neither of you said anything else for a minute, which you didn’t mind. You fell into a comfortable silence as you so often did. It was never awkward with him, there was never a need to fill the silence. You could just be there with each other and exist.

That was what you loved. In both of your lives, there was always way too much pressure on who you had to be, the way you had to act.

But there was no pressure when it was just you two.

You stared out at the beach in front of you, quickly entranced at the way the waves met the shore, the way nature seemed like the only constant when everything else was hectic in your life.

Well, nature, and you and Jameson.

‘’It’s freezing, c’mere.’’ His voice shook you out of your trance-like state. He didn’t have a grin on his face like you’d expected when you looked over at him, but more so a look of concern.

He opened his arms out for you, and you let out a little laugh as you scooted closer, leaning into his chest.

Your arms wrapped around his torso, head on his chest. “It is freezing.” You paused, “Oh God, I feel my teeth clattering.’’

“Yeah? I can hear it.” Jameson laughed, slowly lowered the both of you down onto the blanket, then his arm began running up and down your arm, the other bringing you even closer in attempts to make you feel less cold.

You lay in each other’s arms, your head on his chest as you looked up at the sky above you. 

You stayed like that for a while, simply talking.

Every time he laughed, you felt his laughter, and you thought, surely there’s no other better feeling, his laughter vibrating through your body.

Feeling it warm your heart like it was your own happiness doing the job.

The sun quickly set, and the stars were on full display. You specifically loved this beach, because it was so far away from all the city lights that put those stars to death. You could see everything when it finally got dark.

You lay in his arms while you spotted constellations, and laughed while arguing with Jameson over which one was which. 

“I’m telling you, that’s the Big Dipper. I’m sure of it.’’ He said, unwrapping one arm from around you and pointing to a bundle of stars. 

‘’No, Jameson,’’ You guided his arm over to the left with your hand, ‘’That’s the Big Dipper.’’

You turned over in his arms to face him, one of his arms wrapped under your waist as you lay on your side. 

Your head was propped up with your other hand, so you watched his expression as he lay on the blanket, and he hummed in thought with his eyebrows furrowed. 

He opened his mouth to argue but then fell flat. ‘’Oh.’’

He pointed back at the stars he was pointing at earlier, your hand still on his arm. "So… what’s that then?”

You paused, looking at them for a good minute, trying to decipher which constellation it was. You came up blank. 

“My knowledge might be limited, but…’’ you mumbled, your hand returning back to your side, and then you looked down at him again. “I don’t think that even is a constellation. They’re just some stars.”

Jameson was silent for a moment before putting his arm back down in defeat. He hummed, “That’s oddly sad.”

You adjusted the way you sat, scooting back into his arms and laying your head on his chest as both arms wrapped around you. You hadn’t realised how cold you were just a minute earlier until you felt warm.

Your hand drew patterns on Jameson’s arm. “But it doesn’t have to be.’’ You muttered, hesitating slightly. "I mean, they can still be important without being a constellation. They can just be stars.”

“They can just be stars,” Jameson repeated, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you could hear his heartbeat, your ear on his chest. “I like that.”

“Listen,” he started again, “This defeats the whole purpose of what you just said, but… Why don’t we just make it our own constellation?”

You laughed a little, shaking your head. “Just let them be stars, Jamie, for Godsake.” You huffed a laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Just tell me what you see. After we leave this beach, they’ll go back to being stars. But when we’re here, it’s our little constellation.”

“Okay, fine.” You rolled your lips inwards, “Our constellation…” You trailed off, trying to find something that fit those clusters of stars.

“I can’t see anything.” You admitted after a long second. 

You were almost saddened by the fact that you had a chance to make some special moment between the two of you, something for those butterflies—that insisted on never going away—to actually have something to be happy about. 

Instead of saying all that, you just stared at the stared at the stars and saw nothing extraordinary. Hiding that weird sense of melancholy, you asked Jameson, “Well, what do you see?’’

“I see…” he chuckled, “God, what do I see? I think… I see a bench… With two people on it.”

“A bench?” You questioned.

“Yes, a bench,’’ he craned his neck down to shoot you a look, then leaned his head back on the blanket. ‘’Those ones at the bottom, those are the legs; then that part is the bench; then those are the heads of the people.” He said, pointing at each part as he went along. “See?”

You squinted as you tried to imagine the picture Jameson was trying to paint. You tried, you really did, but you had no idea what he was on about. "Oh, actually, yeah!’’ You said, nodding. “Yeah, I see it.”

A silence followed… Then Jameson suddenly started laughing.

You felt him chuckling against you, so you lifted your head. The sight of his smile was enough to make the biting cold disappear for a moment. ‘’What?” You said through a smile, unable to stop yourself from laughing too.

“You are by far,’’ Jameson managed through a series of low laughs, one arm slung over his face as he continued laughing. ‘’The world’s worst liar.”

Your jaw fell open, accompanied by uncontrollable laughter on your end too. “What! I’m not lying—I do see it!” 

Jameson kept laughing, so you fully sat up, pushing yourself off of him and crossing your legs. He propped himself up on his elbows as he watched you. 

“Look! I see it!” You wouldn’t believe yourself if you were him, because you couldn’t even speak without laughing through every sentence. 

“That's the bench, and those are the legs, and uhm… Those are the heads. It’s our constellation!” You pointed up at the sky, vaguely in the direction of the stars you were looking at.

“I beg of you,” Jameson’s laughter was dying out, but he still had that smile on his face, ‘’Never attempt to lie again. That was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not lying.” You said through a stifled giggle, putting your most serious face on.

“Say that again without that look in your eyes, and then I’ll believe you.” Jameson said.

Your smile faltered a little, and everything else in that moment seemed to slow down for a moment as you stayed looking at him, “What look in my eyes?”

Jameson’s endless green eyes never left yours. He pressed his lips together for a moment, then let out a low chuckle, which more so sounded like a sigh. He didn’t answer your question. “Nothing. Lay with me for a while, will you?”

A part of you was disappointed he changed the subject; what did he mean by ‘look in your eyes’?

Then you criticised yourself for being disappointed. He probably just meant a teasing glint in your eye, like the one he has before he’s about to say something stupid in hopes of making you laugh.

You shook yourself out of your stupor, looking at the sky for a second before you looked back at Jameson.

With a roll of your eyes, you uncrossed your legs and shifted towards Jameson. “What a stupid question.” You remarked. “Of course I will.”

Jameson’s expression turned amused with a raise of his brows. “Insulting and sweet, all in one go.” Jameson said, almost in appreciation. He lay on his back, and you on your side. “You are an enigma.”

“Don’t push your luck,” You muttered back, resting your hand underneath your face as you looked at him. “Next time, I’ll be just insulting.”

He turned to look at you, his hands resting behind his head casually with his elbows wide and relaxed. “I won’t mind.” He said simply.

You managed a dirty look, which only resulted in the both of you laughing. Your voice was hushed, “You are very strange.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love strange.” He responded, a low chuckle escaping as he spoke.

You swore his eyes literally shone— glinted, sparkled, any word in the dictionary to describe something shiny could’ve been used to describe his eyes in that moment, but it still didn’t feel true enough.

You were a little obsessed with the way they always seemed to be a little smiley when it was just you around.

You managed a bored, frustrated sigh as you puffed out your lips. “And what gave you that impression?”

“Quite a few things, actually.” Jameson’s voice was low and gravely. He grinned at you, his eyes lidded slightly.

Your brows furrowed at that statement. Why was he saying things like that today? What on earth did that mean too? You were too tired to worry about it.

You felt a shiver pass through you as you looked away, then Jameson rose a brow and took that as a sign to open his arms out for you.

Wordlessly, you accepted the invite as you shuffled forward into his open arms. His arms wrapped around you tight, like they had a million times before. And you curled up against him, your arms around his middle.

You just then realised how late it had gotten. You’d been here since sunset, and the sky was completely dark now. Yes, it was dark this whole time you were stargazing, but you didn’t really let the fact sink in. 

How long had passed? 3 hours? 4?

You noticed that Jameson’s breath steadied, his hold on you the tiniest bit looser. Your own eyes were feeling extremely heavy.

You tried to stay awake, to dwell in the moment a little longer and memorise the feel of Jameson’s arms around you, the faint smell of his cologne—faint cedar and whiskey—and the comforting chill of the breeze.

You couldn’t help closing your eyes for just a few seconds.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you found yourself lying in a completely different position than you slept in, Jameson’s front against your back with both his arms around you. You and Jameson must’ve fallen asleep still holding each other because of the cold gust of winds.

You carefully unravelled Jameson's arms around you. The pins and needles in your arm told you: you definitely did not just close your eyes for a few seconds. It must’ve been way past midnight by now.

Still slightly numb, your pushed yourself up so you were sitting up slightly.

Your attention went back to Jameson when you heard him groan slightly, his arms patting the blanket for a second, then he shifted to lay on his back.

You looked at the way stars shone in the distance, the sun long, long gone, and replaced by the moon. You then looked down at Jameson, who was still lying down, and his eyes were fluttering open slowly.

Thank goodness for the moonlight, and the faint beach house lights far away that illuminated his features in the prettiest way.

His eyes then opened fully, and you locked eyes for a moment.

A small smile played on his lips as he furrowed his brows slightly, as if asking you, What are you looking at?

You smiled back, despite your heart beating faster in your chest and feeling like you got caught in the act.

A part of you wondered how you could feel so warm inside when it was the middle of winter.

Jameson simply opened his arms out once again from below you, beckoning you in.

You didn’t move, only letting out a sleepy laugh as you tried to engrain this image in your mind—the slight messiness of his hair, messier than usual, the way the green in his eyes was no longer visible because of the dark, but they still gleamed and glittered all the same.

You suddenly wished you had thought of the time more, so that it would’ve passed slower.

“Come here,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance with that stupid smile on his face, his voice tinged with sleepiness.

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” you mumbled back, as if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Your voices didn’t need to carry much volume in this moment, because you didn’t really need them. He could understand you just with a single look. You understood each other.

You fell back into his arms, and his arms wrapped around you a little tighter this time.

One hand was doing the same thing as last time, running up and down your arm, while the other was wrapped around your waist and pulling you close, like if he held you any looser you would slip between his fingers—someone trying to pick up sand, or hold water in their hands.

Your legs tangled in each other's, Jameson's soothing hand began to slow down, but you selfishly didn’t want to fall asleep quite yet.

“Jameson?” You mumbled against his chest.

He hummed, and you felt the vibrations coming from his chest. “Yes?”

“What if…” You started, “What if this was every day? What if we just ran away from everything for a while?”

You were rambling nonsense, of course you weren’t going to run away. You couldn’t lie and say you never thought of it, but, it was simply reckless.

You could afford the consequences of running away, not with who your parents were and the image you’d paint.

‘’I think… I wouldn’t mind my days being full of you.’’ He confessed quietly, ‘’I mean, having fun with you. Making memories, living life to the fullest, and all that jazz." He continued, his hand resuming going up and down your arm. He exhaled, and you felt his neck move, looking down at you. ‘’You got any more ‘what if’s’ for me?’’

You hummed in thought—you had a lot. “Yeah, actually.” You laughed slightly, “What if we get hypothermia out here? And, like, die before we get the chance to even run away?’’

You felt him let out a low, sleepy chuckle against you. You bit back your smile even though he couldn’t see you, out of sheer habit.

You wanted to lift your head and see his face, see his smile, but you felt way too comfortable on his chest to move a single inch, and you had that nagging feeling that if you did get up, you wouldn’t be able to find the same comfortable way you were laying when you went back down.

“Never mind.’’ He decided, his voice breaking your thoughts. “No more what if’s for you.”

If only that could silence the what if’s that lingered in your mind.

“Hey!” you defended yourself, laughing slightly. “It’s a valid question.”

His hand that was previously on your back lifted up, and you suddenly felt cold again, until he began toying with the ends of your hair, then ran his hands through it, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the cold down your spine.

“One that I don’t have the answer to. We’ll see when we wake up.”

You managed a laugh despite your tiredness, and also managed another sarcastic remark. “But… will we?”

You heard him gasp incredulously, though it was quiet. “You,’’ he tapped your shoulder as if to emphasise your point, ‘’Are one dark, twisted person. If you don’t have hopes for us surviving one night, how do you have hopes for anythingelse?”

“I’m not dark and twisted! I have hope, I swear.” You felt yourself getting sleepier, eyes getting heavier, and you couldn’t help the light chuckles passing by your lips. “I’m just tired. Anything feels possible when you’re awake.” You stifled a yawn, ‘’Especially with you—like, having someone with you to keep you going. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Jameson said. “I’ll still know you’re there, though. Even if I’m sleeping. Or tired. You’re in my arms. Anything still feels possible.” He continued lowly, “So, I will survive hypothermia.”

Jameson’s voice could almost bring you to sleep. A giggle slipped your lips, “You’re going to survive hypothermia by sheer willpower? Subconciously?”

“Thats the goal, yes.”

Shaking your head, you let out a long sigh. “You and your Hawthorne overachiever goals.’’

You felt Jameson laugh tiredly against you, then you realised he was trying to keep himself awake, like you were, for the sole purpose of staying in the moment together for longer.

‘’Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into when we first met. You knew me.”

You let out a sigh, picturing the little middle-school version of you both ditching an event held by your parents, and accidentally meeting each other by the staircase to the cellar. Your spot.

You remembered your frustration when he asked you what you were doing there, when he was in your house.

Then you remembered thinking his green eyes were quite pretty, and after you got to talking, thinking he wasn’t all that bad.

“I pretty much did, yeah.” You agreed with a light laugh.

Though, a part of that wasn’t true. Sure, you picked up on his dangerous, devastating smile, that he was a risk taker, and that he did things according to his will. You knew he was a Hawthorne, and that Hawthorne’s weren’t easy or simple.

But you would’ve never known upon seeing him that first time, that you would develop a friendship with him that made you believe in fate.

“Then you should know,” He said, “hypothermia is not standing a chance against us.”

That word again. Us.

“If we survive the night,” You jokingly started, hearing Jameson hold back a laugh and mask it with a cough, “Let’s do something crazy tomorrow to honour it.”

“Crazy,” he hummed, “crazy, as in?” He prodded on.

“Crazy as in we run away for a day.” You blurted, without really thinking. “I dare us to do it.”

He let out an amused chuckle. “Well, you know I’m one for crazy.” Jameson said, and you could hear the grin in his voice as you pulled yourself closer to him the tiniest bit more, adjusting your head on his chest. “And you know I’m not one to back down from a dare. But are you being one hundred percent serious?

His hand ran over your hair, sending tingles down your spine. “Yes, I am. I’m not fully insane; we aren’t really running away, I guess. It’s just like a little road trip if you think about it,” you said.

“A road trip with no destination and not telling anyone where we are off to.” He contemplated, “Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I like it.”

“And, where are we running off to?” He then said, continuing. “You know, if we do survive this horrible, tempestuousnight.”

You let out a little laugh at his dramatics. You felt so at peace in this moment, looking at the pitch black sky with stars dotting it alight, hearing the faint sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Your gazed fixed on those special cluster of stars, and you could almost start to see what Jameson was saying earlier.

The bench, the two people. Our constellation, you thought giddily.

“I don’t know,” You admitted, “anywhere but here. Just for a few days. I’m kind of growing sick of it all.”

“Then we’ll go anywhere.” Jameson concluded. “Just for a few days.“ His hand slowed, then stopped in your hair, then it moved to the middle of your back, and his hand lay flat.

Your eyes were heavy, and you attempted to stifle a yawn but failed.

You wrapped your arms tighter around Jameson, and felt his hand grasp the fabric of your hoodie. You wondered how long it would take your parents to notice your absence. Then you thought about all the things you could do, places you could go with Jameson.

“I’ll make a plan tomorrow morning.” You mumbled in your half-awake state, because it didn’t hurt to just be a little organised, especially when your ‘runaway partner’ was someone who liked to live on the edge 24/7.

You could hear Jameson’s tiredness in his voice, along with that intoxicating smile. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

A little chuckle fell past your lips as you felt Jameson’s chin rest atop your head. You curled a little closer into his chest, finally letting your eyes shut.

You’d give up the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything in between if it meant everything could stay like this forever.

Well… Maybe not the stars. You wouldn’t want to give up your new favourite constellation.

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

[adddddiiii]

Thinking about sleepy Jameson Hawthorne...

It's like peeling back the layers of chaos to see the quiet, unguarded boy underneath. He’s usually so full of life, a whirlwind of energy and reckless charm, but when he’s sleepy, he’s softer — gentler.

His voice drops an octave, words slurred and lazy, like he’s forgotten how to be the sharp-tongued enigma you know so well. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder without asking, mumbling something incoherent about how comfortable you are.

“Just five minutes,” he always promises, but you know better. Five minutes turns into an hour, and soon he’s out cold, his arms loosely draped around your waist as if to make sure you don’t leave.

Sleepy Jameson is all warm skin and heavy limbs, the kind of presence that makes it impossible to move even if you wanted to. His messy hair falls into his eyes, and if you brush it back, he leans into your touch with a quiet, content sigh.

And when he’s drifting off, he’s honest in a way he never is when he’s wide awake. “You’re too good to me,” he’ll murmur, his words barely audible but enough to send your heart racing. Moments like this make you wonder if Jameson Hawthorne is just as tired of being untouchable as you are of watching him pretend to be.

Because sleepy Jameson? He’s real. And that’s the version of him you could never resist.

[wildesqdreams]

ok so hear me out…. laser tag with jameson but you two are getting super competitive and it turns into a wager of some sort? (the loser has to do smthing embarrassing that the winner decides, etc) and you two are just tryna distract each other the entire time

thank you 🩵🩵🩵

laser tag

pairing - jameson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - playing a game with a hawthorne doesn't always go as planned, even when you're playing against your boyfriend. especially then!

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

warnings - none, just jameson being a sneaky bitch.

a/n: i'm really sorry for not writing this sooner and for being inactive. i didn't include the wager thing because no ideas came to mind for that, but this is what i came up with. so enjoy!

this was supposed to be fun. a fun date. a getaway. but when you're dating a hawthorne, nothing can come without competition. especially if your boyfriend is jameson motherfucking hawthorne.

y/n let out another frustrated sigh when she turned around a corner and heard the sound signalizing that the girl was shot. her eyes raised, and in front of her, jameson was grinning with his stupid smirk.

"now that was the third one," the boy approached her, "two more for me, but you still haven't gotten me. not once," he stopped in front of her.

she opened her mouth, ready to state how this is her second time and how he has done this multiple times, but jameson beat her to it, "gotta catch up, baby," and with a cocky grin he went away preparing for the next match.

it wasn't even her lack of experience. she really did enjoy things like this, and she wasn't bad, but jameson was more skilled and really annoying when he got competitive. with a groan, she went to her side, ready to continue the game.

as the alarm rang starting the new match, y/n started slowly walking around from obstacle to obstacle. they were playing in the dark, so there were neon lights everywhere, making the environment more beautiful, but also scary because it was harder to spot your opponent.

the girl found an okay spot behind a neon blue obstacle. she peaked behind it and looked around, trying to be careful and figure where to go next. maybe her problem was being too cautious, but if she started running around, she would probably trip over her own feet, that way getting shot.

"i'm starting to think that you don't quite understand the game," her body tensed when she felt something press against her back. a gun if she had to state the obvious answer. goosebumps appeared on her skin when she felt his warm breath near her ear, hitting her skin, "you have to be the one shooting, not being shot at for the fourth time now."

she slightly rolled her eyes as she turned around facing jameson. his gun now pressed against her chest, "i had a plan."

"probably a magnificent one."

y/n continued, ignoring his sarcastic tone, "and you haven't shot me for the fourth time yet, so there's no progress for you at the moment."

"well, it wouldn't be quite romantic if i shot my girlfriend, would it?"

"you already did, three times, idiot."

his smirk widened as he leaned closer to her, his hand tugging a hair strand behind her ear, "i deeply apologize for my misbehavior."

"i'm actually starting to despise you."

"with those words being said, i'm already gonna be dead. you won't even have to shoot me," his hand rested at the side of her neck.

a slight chuckle escaped her at his words. y/n's chest filled up with warmth, and a soft smile appeared on her face, "then it's a good thing i'm lying."

"actually, a wonderful thing," he stated before connecting his lips with hers.

the girl smiled into the kiss even more, and the warmth traveled through her body when she felt his hand slide to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. the rush that she felt during the game couldn't compare to the way her body ignited every time his lips met hers. as he slightly deepend the kiss, her hand found the bottom of his shirt, tugging the material between her fingers.

y/n felt him smile against her mouth, as he continued to place kisses along her jaw, whispering against her skin, "you're gorgeous."

her eyes closed as she tilted her head back, resting it against the obstacle behind her. his mouth moved to her exposed neck, "and i love you so much, but," she felt his breath against her ear, "you should keep that pretty head of yours in the game."

her cheeks reddened when she heard the sound of her losing another life again. she groaned and pushed her boyfriend away, "that's not allowed!"

"what exactly?" a stupid grin appeared on his face again, "shooting my opponent in laser tag or kissing my girlfriend?"

"youu-" the girl shook her head as she pulled away from the obstacle, "you are such a cheater! ohh, i just hate you so much," she started walking away, still with tinted cheeks.

jameson laughed, "really? those red cheeks of yours tell a different story."

"oh, fuck off."

the boy was still grinning, "love you, too!"

taglist: @noaboacoa @wiltspring @bookish-swiftie13 @k-pevensie28 @lxvebelle @sheisntyou @mochamvgz @formulalina15

[jahayla-parker]

Rebellious Rivals : Jameson Hawthorne x Reader

Descr: 3.2k wc, Jameson is determined to help his longtime ‘rival’ learn how to let go and relax, will he get his way? Flirty, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, unspoken crush(es), fluff.

Warnings: flirty Jameson, suggestive content, implications of smut but NO actual smut, light drinking, bets, I think that’s all

“Look at you, you're just begging for someone to put you in your place,” Jameson chimed in as he sauntered onto the balcony. He let his eyes wander her body momentarily before he caught her gaze. She’d clearly dressed for the occasion as was expected of her, but her presence anywhere but the dining hall showed her faint rebellious side. As did the drink in her hand and the way she was standing far too close to the edge of the balcony.

"And you think you can handle that?” Y/n retorted with a scoff. She shook her head, taking another sip of her champagne. “You're cute. I could have you on your knees in a heartbeat. It would suit you."

"You think about that image a lot?" Jameson implored with a smug grin.

"What?! No. God!.. Don’t flatter yourself. You bought it up." Y/n huffed, making Jameson chuckle. She glared at him sharply. She took a big drink of her beverage when he raised his hands up with pretend innocence.

“I can't help it, you're fun to mess with,” Jameson murmured, walking closer. He took a swig of his own drink as he leaned against the wall to her right.

“What do you want?” She asked, voice dripping with annoyance. She’d been enjoying her escape from the rich snobs down the hall. But of course, Jameson Hawthorne just had to show up and ruin it. The way he always did. She turned to fully face him for the first time since he arrived, only for her eyes to quickly take in his appearance. His suit jacket was unbuttoned immodestly far down, the familiar scar of his slightly peaking out past the low collar. She was one of the few people who actually knew how he obtained it. Not because they were friends. But because she’d commented on it with an unintentional backhanded remark, meaning to simply call him out on his carelessness, only to learn the truth of the mark’s origins. That had been the first time she considered there might be actual depth to Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Something beyond his riches, smug attitude, and dangerously good looks. As such, despite both Grayson and Alisa warning her not to trust, much less fall for, a Hawthorne the sight was somewhat comforting. The fact Jameson somehow nearly always wore a low cut shirt, or no shirt at all, whenever she was around made the sight familiar and the meaning behind the scar made her feel oddly more comfortable around him. Even if the sight of his toned bare chest made her heart flutter in a way she truly despised.

“Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?" Jameson questioned flirtatiously. His honey-coated voice bringing her thoughts back to the present moment.

She groaned, tossing back the rest of her drink. “Go away Jameson,” she ordered weakly. She walked away from him and back into the attached empty room, sitting on the unnecessarily expensive couch.

“Where would the fun be in that?” He remarked rhetorically as he plopped down beside her. He chuckled to himself as he watched her glare at him before lowering herself onto the floor. Once she’d settled on lying down on the ground instead of remaining beside him on the couch, he smirked. “I don’t bite”.

Y/n glanced up at him. “I don’t believe that,” she sassed, lifting her arms out in front of her as she lay flat on the wooden floor in front of him. She turned her eyes away from him and towards her phone as she reviewed her calendar for tomorrow.

Jameson’s eyes took on a playful glow as he shrugged, nudging her with his dress shoe. “Well, unless you’re wanting me to,” he winked down at her.

Her heart sped up against her will yet again. The same way it had moments before when he’d teasingly suggested she wanted him in his knees. The same way it always did whenever he’d flirt with her like this. Her stupid heart always acted against her logic. Jameson was just playing her. Besides, he was everything she despised, wasn’t he? Hoping to brush off his insinuation before her face flushed, she glared over at him briefly before turning back to her phone as she continued to hold it up above her.

Jameson took note of the slight pink hue her cheeks took on at his latest flirtation. He suppressed an amused laugh. He leaned down and stole her phone from her hands.

“Jameson!” She shouted, abruptly pushing herself off the floor and standing before him.

“Princess, if you’re wanting to scream my name, there are far more enjoyable things we can do to make that happen,” Jameson winked, sliding her phone into his back pocket.

She huffed, arms crossed over her chest. The way the action made Jameson’s eyes flash towards her cleavage made her even more annoyed. “Phone,” she commanded, holding her hand out to him, “now”.

Jameson rose from the couch, silently nearing her. “Tell you what, let’s make a bet,” he suggested.

“Why would I do that?”

“You want your phone back, don’t you?”

“What’s the bet Hawthorne?”

Jameson grinned proudly. “Well, if you’re still against making a bet, you could instead finally admit your feelings for me-“

"I feel nothing for you. Absolutely nothing!" Y/n scoffed loudly. Her eyes narrowed at him as her heart beat rapidly in her chest.

"Is that so?" Jameson inquired, his tone audibly amused.

"Yep. Nothing,” she repeated, her irritation growing with his amusement. Why was everything a game to him?!

Jameson took one slow deliberate step towards her, a smirk on his face.

She swallowed thickly but held her ground, refusing to back away from him.

He laughed lightly at her reaction. "Relax princess, l am not going to jump on you." "Not until you ask me to anyway,” he hummed, grabbing her hand.

Y/n yanked her hand away from his. “Explain the terms of your bet or I’ll track down your brother and tell him you’ve stolen my phone,” she stated firmly. Why wasn’t she just doing that now? Why was she even entertaining Jameson by considering his bet?

Jameson chuckled. “Admit your, feelings for me,” he repeated, holding his pointer finger over her lips to silence her. His posture stiffened as he tried not to give in to how soft and kissable her lips felt against his skin. “Or,” he emphasized, beginning to lay out the terms of the bet. “You come with me, escape this egotistical party for a bit and go along with my rebellious acts,” he smirked, teasingly referring to his actions the way she often did. “And, if you still hate me at the end of the night, you’ll get your phone back.”

“And if I don’t?” She hesitated.

“Is that something you’re worried about Princess?” Jameson asked, cocking his right eyebrow.

She shot him another glare despite the fact her heart was beating uncontrollably. “There’s always another side to your bets,” she answered.

Jameson hummed. “If you don’t end up hating me, maybe you’ll get something else out of the night.”

“What else?”

He debated about teasing her as to why she was so concerned with this outcome. But, his nervous energy had grown due to their closeness and her willingness to go along with his bet instead of turning him in to Grayson for having taken her phone. He’d hoped tonight he’d be able to show her just how fun being “rebellious” could be. He hoped she’d be able to let herself relax some. But he couldn’t deny that he hoped something more would possibly start to form come tonight as well. “We’ll just have to see, hmm,” he answered vaguely, taking her hand and leading her to the door.

Jameson smiled to himself as he watched y/n screaming gleefully as she glided through the air. Her legs were crossed to keep her dress from exposing anything but was otherwise relaxed. As she landed before him, her zip line coming to an end, he approached to help her unhook herself from the harness.

Y/n breathed heavily as she tried to catch her breath, the adrenaline having knocked the wind out of her. She gleamed up at Jameson, her eyes shining. Maybe his rebellious side had its perks after all. Maybe Jameson had his moments. She’d never felt this free in her life.

“Ready for our next act of rebellion?” Jameson forced himself to ask despite finding himself all too content to stay in this moment longer, his hands rested on her biceps as she caught her breath, smiling at him. That radiant smile of hers that always took his breath away. However, the look of excitement and anticipation in her eyes in response to his question, made his heart beat madly.

Y/n giggled as she tried to fix her hair. Jameson had taken her for a ride on his motorcycle, utilizing a patch of open driving space The Hawthorne House had. She knew given it was private property there was no true speed limit, but she was fairly certain they’d still gone over it somehow.

Jameson gently moved a few stray hairs off of her face and back to their usual places, smiling widely.

Y/n found herself nearly leaning into his touch. She quickly stepped back and slapped his hand, making him lower it to his side. However, neither of their grins left their faces.

Jameson chuckled at her behavior, “come on, night’s still young”. He took her hand and tugged her towards the house.

Y/n’s phone rang out as midnight struck. Jameson moved his hand from where it was resting on her waist, having been showing her how to hit the golf ball properly, but his other hand remained. He slid it into his back pocket and pulled out the device. He dismissed the alarm. “Seems my time is up,” he spoke softly, moving his arm back around her, bringing her phone to the open space between her stomach and the golf club in offering.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily. She sighed quietly as she let go of the golf club, letting it drop to the rooftop under her feet. She hesitantly spun to face him, painfully aware of the way his tender fingers moved with her but kept their hold on her hips. “I don't hate you," her voice barely audible as she found herself pressed against his chest. “I never hated you,” she confessed.

"I know Princess," he murmured, his arms moving behind her and tightening around her.

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with uncertainty and fear. Fear for what this confession would mean after tonight. Fear for what he might do with such information. "But, I should hate you," she remarked. Jameson was practically everything she hated about wealth, excessive spending on needless things, full of cockiness and ego.. but something about him was just… different. She’d noticed it before… but tonight was the first night she’d let herself indulge in these conflicting thoughts.

"You should," Jameson agreed. He delicately held her face in his hands, eyes burning with intensity. “And it makes me the luckiest bastard in the world that you can't manage to," he rasped.

They stared at one another in silence, the moonlight shining down on them as they instinctively leaned closer to each other.

Jameson’s voice was soft, sincere, and slightly nervous as he asked, “can I kiss you?”

The respectful question, his pleading gaze, and kissable lips, had y/n leaning in without responding. She closed her eyes as his warm lips met hers, her hands finding their way to his face.

“This changes nothing, I’m still going to beat you at bowling,” y/n remarked breathily once their lips parted.

Jameson’s wickedly handsome grin returned. “You can try, Princess,” he said, eyes aglow. “Up the ante?” He proposed, teasingly stroking her cheek with his ring finger.

“How so?”

His grin shifted into a smirk. “A Hawthorne classic adaptation,” he began. He let his eyes roam over her frame suggestively before adding, “strip bowling”. Having noticed the way her breath hitched, Jameson squeezed her hand. “It’s okay if you’re not up to it Princess,” he said sincerely, but also unable to not toy with her competitive streak.

“If you feel like stripping for me, so be it,” she shrugged, her smirk making Jameson’s own smirk grow.

"You are, without a doubt, the most obnoxious person I’ve ever crossed paths with,” y/n remarked, glaring at Jameson over her shoulder as her ball rolled into the gutter due to him making noises as she tried to bowl.

Jameson chuckled, “I’m not sure what you’re referring to Princess”.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she walked back to where he was. “And don't even get me started on the sound of your voice,” she muttered.

“Mmm that sounds fun though,” he argued, lips pressed against her ear as he intentionally brushed up against her when reaching for his bowling ball.

Y/n turned around, ready to tell him off. However, his warm breath hitting her skin and the way his bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and his honeyed voice echoing in her head won out. She aggressively gripped his belt loops and pulled him to her. She crashed her lips into his, eyes closing as his arms roamed her body.

Jameson’s lips found their way to her neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses in their wake. He smirked against her skin as she let out a pleased hum. He kept his lips in place, knowingly having found her sweet spot and began sucking lightly.

Y/n’s hands blindly searched for Jameson’s waistband. She felt him slightly jump at her touch, fueling her desire further.

“You know, my clothes are supposed to come off only if I lose,” he teased breathlessly as he moved his lips up to meet hers.

Y/n abruptly pulled away, her hands dropping to her sides. She felt like crying as she watched the way his lips chased hers. He was really trying to convince her, wasn’t he? “This…-,” she sniffed, stepping back as she shook her head in frustrated disbelief.

“Princess?” Jameson asked. His voice taking a tone the nickname hadn’t worn when leaning his mouth before; uncertainty and worry.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” she laughed humorously. Backing up until her butt hit the bowling ball return. “This is all just a game, isn’t it?”

“What?” Jameson questioned, his brain struggling to adjust to the sudden change.

“I’m just something for you to win, the one thing you didn’t have yet. This was all just you trying to get me to let go so you could win some sick game-”.

“Woah, woah, no,” Jameson promised as he moved closer. “Princess,” he sighed. It made sense she’d reach that conclusion. Even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth. He wanted this. Wanted her, more than anything. “Y/n, no,” he vowed, his tone deeply sincere. “For once in my life, this isn’t a game. Teasing you, sure, but not in the way you think.” He offered a small appreciative smile when she didn’t back away from his touch as he went to cup her cheek. “Yes, I’ve been wanting you to let go and hoped tonight would help you do that,” he confessed, “but not because I see you as a game, something to figure out or win.. But because I can see what this lifestyle is doing to you, you deserve better, you deserve to live”.

“And… this…” She whispered timidly.

“Us?”

“Is there really an us?” She asked, voice cracking, betrayingly exposing her heart’s fears.

Jameson’s gaze was warm and tender as he stroked her cheek. “That’s up to you. I’d love for there to be, Princess,” he confessed. “But that’s your call to make.”

“This isn’t a game..? Or some rebellious act of yours to get at your brother?”

He firmly shook his head. “No games,” he promised, squeezing her cheek. “I’m afraid I’m always rebellious, darling, but this, is real.”

Y/n stared at Jameson silently for a moment; analyzing his tone, words, and body language. Grayson’s and Alisa’s warnings played in her mind. But, she couldn’t deny the way she felt. She lifted her eyes to meet Jameson’s patient ones, “kiss me”.

“Is that an order, Princess?” Jameson chuckled with a smirk. However, his cockiness melted away when she simply raised her brow at him in expectation. He immediately caved in and leaned down to her again.

Jameson smiled softly as y/n’s eyes flittered open. He watched with slight fear as everything came back to her. Had she regretted it? However, his nerves subsided as she her laid her head against his bare chest and mumbled a shy good morning. He chuckled, brushing hair from her face lovingly. He couldn’t help the grin that took over his face when she gazed up at him sweetly instead of hitting his hand away from her as she’d done before. “Morning Princess,” he greeted.

Before she had the chance to respond, Jameson’s brother, Grayson’s, voice could be heard echoing through the hallway outside the bedroom door. She looked up at Jameson as they both tried to make out what the older Hawthorne was shouting. “What did you do?” She teased with a grin.

“You wound me,” Jameson scoffed playfully, holding a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Jameson!” Grayson’s angry voice shouted, audibly closer than before. He was clearly headed this way; to Jameson’s room. “Y/n was supposed to be at the foundation two hours ago but she wasn’t.”

Jameson barely had time to teasingly raise his brow at her over the unexpected rebellion. He tried not to chuckle at the way she cringed slightly, clearly having spaced on the responsibility.

“She was last seen with you!” Grayson’s scolding continued, the bedroom door being thrown open loudly. “What did you-“

Upon hearing the door with the wall as it opened, Jameson promptly ensured she was covered modestly with his comforter. “I’d say she’s still able to be seen with me,” he shrugged grinning down at her. He winked at her to silently reassure her this wasn’t part of his plans.

Y/n caught onto the reasoning behind Jameson’s wink. But she already knew he had nothing to do with this. At least not intentionally. She’d only made the plans with Grayson via text last night just before having been interrupted by Jameson who she’d then spent the night with. He had no way of knowing about the plans. She was pleasantly surprised to find herself lacking the normal nauseating guilt that came with acting so “irresponsibly”. But last night had changed her, for the better. She would still attend to her responsibilities, but she didn’t have to be so rigid about it anymore. Jameson taught her that. Her thoughts returning to the moment, she playfully smacked Jameson’s bare chest over his comment, making him chuckle and pull her to him.

“I…” Grayson gaped. “You let him corrupt you?”

Jameson laughed loudly at the likely unintended double entendre.

Y/n rolled her eyes at Grayson’s words. “He’s not that bad,” she defended.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said about me, Princess,” Jameson grinned, earning another smack to his chest as Grayson grumpily left the room.

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[soulofapatrick]

Enchanted Pages - Jameson Hawthorne x Reader

Summary: Jameson joins you in the Hawthorne estate library

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: none

Notes: I hope the anon requesting Jameson likes this! It was fun to write!!

Y/N's POV

The Hawthorne mansion library is a sanctum of wisdom, a hallowed ground where the scent of aged paper and the soft whisper of turning pages permeate the air. The room is vast, its shelves towering like ancient sentinels guarding the knowledge within. The mahogany bookcases stretch from floor to ceiling, each shelf adorned with leather-bound tomes that seem to hold the secrets of centuries.

I sit settled in a plush armchair, my fingers delicately tracing the embossed spine of a weathered classic. The soft glow of antique lamps casts a warm hue on the room, highlighting the ornate patterns of the Persian rug beneath my feet. The crackling fire in the hearth adds a touch of comfort, its flickering dance a silent companion to the tales contained in the countless volumes that surround me.

My gaze sweeps over the library, absorbing the grandeur of literature that spans genres and eras. Shakespeare stands shoulder to shoulder with Austen, while the poetry of Frost beckons from a distant corner. History whispers from dusty tomes, and the works of philosophers, both ancient and modern, share space on these sacred shelves.

The sheer magnitude of knowledge captivates me, and a sense of awe settles in my chest. Here, in this haven of words, I feel a connection to the countless souls who sought solace, inspiration, and escape within the pages of these books. It's as if each volume holds the echo of the minds that once dared to dream, to question, to imagine.

I had choosen a book at random, its spine cracked but well-loved. As I open its pages, the scent of history mingles with the musky perfume of aged paper. The words transport me to another world, a realm where time is fluid, and reality is shaped by the strokes of a writer's pen.

Before I can really get into it, the rhythmic click of polished shoes on the library's hardwood floor interrupts the quiet symphony of the written word. A familiar scent wafts towards me, a subtle blend of cedarwood and a trace of old books—Jameson's unmistakable fragrance. Without looking up, I feel the magnetic pull of his presence drawing near. The rustle of pages and the soft creak of the chair next to me signal his arrival. Jameson, with his tall and lean silhouette, leans against the bookshelf. His dark eyes, reflecting the wisdom accumulated through countless narratives, are fixed on the pages before me. 

”Finding solace in the tales of the past?" he inquires, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. His voice, a velvety timbre, resonates with the same richness as the literary treasures that surround us. 

I glance up, meeting his gaze, and invite him to join me with a nod. Jameson gracefully moves to the arm of my chair, a place that feels both familiar and intimate. His fingers, cool and elegant, find a stray strand of my hair, wrapping it around his digits absentmindedly. It's a subtle gesture, one that transcends the boundaries of mere physical touch. Each twirl of my hair seems to weave a connection between us, binding us in a shared moment within the tapestry of the library. 

As he sits beside me, the warmth of his presence envelops like the embrace of a well-told story. The characters in the book come to life, their struggles and triumphs mirrored in the unspoken understanding between Jameson and me. The juxtaposition of the fictional world and the reality of his touch creates a beautiful paradox—a seamless blend of imagination and tangible connection.

Jameson's fingers, light as a whisper, move to ghost over my cheek. A shiver courses through me, a response to the delicate caress that seems to bridge the gap between fiction and reality. The characters in the book, once mere ink on paper, now witness a narrative unfolding before them—the story of two souls drawn together by the invisible threads of connection. His touch deepens, his fingers hooking under my chin with a gentle insistence that demands my attention. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he lifts my gaze, and suddenly, I find myself ensnared by his eyes—dark, fathomless pools of green that hold the weight of a thousand stories. Time seems to stretch, and the distance between our faces becomes negligible.

My breath hitches, caught in the delicate dance of anticipation. The paradox of our connection intensifies—the very real presence of Jameson Hawthorne and the fictional worlds we explore converge in this suspended moment. In his eyes, I see reflections of characters who have loved, lost, and found redemption, mirroring the silent tale unfolding between us. 

As our faces draw closer, the boundary between reader and character blurs, and I become a protagonist in a story that transcends the pages of the books that surround us. The library, once a haven of literature, transforms into a stage where the chapters of our own narrative unfold.

In the charged atmosphere of the transformed library, Jameson's voice, low and laden with an emotion I can't quite decipher, breaks the silence. "You don't know what you do to me," he confesses, his words hanging between us like a promise written in invisible ink. His fingers, delicately holding my chin, tighten ever so slightly, an anchor in this moment. In the depth of those fathomless green eyes, I sense vulnerability, a rare glimpse of the man behind the enigmatic exterior. 

The anticipation lingers, and then, with a tenderness that defies the rough edges of his life, Jameson leans in. His lips brush against mine, a touch so gentle it's as if he's unraveling the layers of his guarded self. The kiss is a revelation, a tapestry of emotions woven with threads of longing and a touch of sweetness that catches me off guard. 

I taste the rich complexity of him, a blend of desire and restraint, as if every stolen moment has led to this, a communion of souls beneath the watchful gaze of literary giants. His kiss tells a story—a story of passion restrained, of emotions laid bare in the quiet expanse of a library transformed into a stage for our intimate narrative. 

As our lips continue their passionate dance, each touch becomes a stanza in a poem of desire. The flame ignited by our connection dances through the chambers of my heart, casting a warm glow that reverberates through every beat. In this stolen moment, I become a keeper of Jameson's story, feeling the weight of the untold chapters that reside in the recesses of his being. The dance of tongues is a language of its own, a symphony of whispers and sighs that transcends the limitations of words. In the quiet library, our connection becomes a narrative, written not in ink but in the shared breaths and lingering echoes of our kisses. 

Then, with a tantalising slowness, Jameson pulls away. The separation is a breathless pause, and in that moment, I catch a glimpse of a blush colouring his cheeks—a rare vulnerability that adds another layer to the enigma that is Jameson Hawthorne. His eyes, still reflecting the fire of our shared passion, hold a depth that defies easy explanation. 

A tender smile curves his lips as he leans down to kiss the crown of my head. His lips press into my hair, a silent promise and a gesture that speaks volumes. The library, once a stage for the intensity of desire, now becomes a sanctuary of shared intimacy. 

He settles back next to me, the warmth of his presence a comforting embrace. A smile lingers on his lips as he presses them into my hair, and I feel the echo of our shared moment lingering in the air like the fading notes of a beautiful melody. The pages of the book in my hands wait patiently, as if knowing that our own narrative has become a story worth telling—a love story written in the quiet corners of a library that has witnessed the blending of passion, literature, and the tender moments that make life extraordinary.

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

TAGS: New Tag List Form

The Inheritance Games Masterlist

[ravisinghs-wife]

Could you please post jameson hawthorne x reader dating headcanons?

Jameson Hawthorne dating headcanons

warnings: not proofread, I wrote this in like 20 minutes, not any besides that (let me know if I missed any) a/n: suprissee, I'm still alive🤭

Masterlist

you met through Xander

you and Xander are already friends and go to the same classes and stuff and get paired up in a project

you go to the Hawthorne House to work on the project with him, and there you meet Jameson

he barges into Xanders room to ask him something super random like where the skipping ropes are and then he notices you

you are the most gorgous thing he has ever seen and you immidiantly become friends

you exchange phone numbers and always hang out at school and his house

but anyway

he would definitely make you a playlist

also having a shared Spotify playlist where you keep adding songs until it's 20 hours long

it's actually just a bunch of Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey and Harry Styles songs mixed

he would take you on the most advantourus and insisting dates you ever had

a cute date at a fancy restaurant? never heard of it

on you first date he would probably take you to play laser tag or something

this boy has so much energy

he's always running around

he's the definition of golden retriever boyfriend

his favorite ice cream is definitely cookie dough

he'd wake you up at 4 am to eat ice cream with him and watch a movie because he can't sleep

he'd make an extremely big deal out of your birthday

he throws you the best party ever and makes sure that only people you like are invited and has SO many activities planned where he knows that you'll love them

his love language his definitely physical touch and quality time

your always sleeping somehow on him and he's always brushing through you hair <33

you'd stay in bed until 10 am and just cuddle

this man gives amazing cuddles

he just wraps both hands around you and holds you tight until you fall asleep

he's always touching you in some sort of way

be it your hand that he's holding, the hair stand he's playing with or holding his arm on your lower back and giving you support through it

this man loves board games

always has chess, uno etc. with him

playing bowling together <3

you would be besties with his brothers

you already are with Xander since you knew him first but through you relationship with Jameson you get closer with his other brothers

you four (five with Avery) would definitely play tag

staying up late just to talk

on the phone and in person

when you‘re aways from each other you just stay up on the phone and call each other all the time lol

also just being in each others present/being in the same room and doing separate things like you homework, reading your current read, drawing journaling or just scrolling on your phone

you guys are so in love with each other it's almost pathetic

[pickanumber1-7]

cw: Jameson calls you princess and you have the flu

(I have one of those aforementioned things)

—

“Let me wallow in self pity dammit! Does the flu not offer any rights anymore?” You groan into the blankets.

Your eyes throb in their sockets, muscles shivering in a concerted effort to raise your body temperature. To kill the bacteria and pathogens with heat and…

A honey lemon drink sits on the bedside table with a clink.

“Anything I can get for you, princess?”

You can’t be bothered to argue about his use of that pet name. You do your best to sit up — more like slink your way up against the silky pillowcases (no complaints there, dang you rich people), and face the brunette.

“Do your worst.”

The words come out more grouchy than intended but you don’t care.

“Since you can’t go out,” earns him a glare. “I was thinking we could go to the library and spend the day there curled up with books.”

“Won’t I spread germs on the books?”

A pause.

“Well, I suppose we could cordon off one of the libraries and have it, and the books, disinfected afterwards.”

“Pass. Too boring.”

“Alright. Option the second: Board and card games.”

You squint your eyes in mock appraisal. “Elaborate?”

“Imagine this. Playing two man UNO with twice the number of +4 cards.”

“My brain is tired.”

“No worries, third time’s the charm. Thoughts on building Lego?”

“Promise to help me find the lost pieces?”

“I promise.”

“Deal.”

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Handling Sickness

Summary: Nash is used to wrangling the boys when they're sick, but he's learning he doesn't have to anymore.

(Inspired to post this because of @tickletastic ❤️ :) Enjoy ❤️ :))

Sickness was a rarity in the Hawthorne household.

Just like with physical activities, the boys prided themselves on their ability to avoid colds, flus, and bugs alike. All that to say, when they did finally get sick, they went all out.

It all started with Avery coming home with something from school. Then Libby had caught it. Then Nash and Jameson had caught it respectively. Then Xander had gotten it. And then Grayson had been the last to hold out before he then got it.

Nash immediately crashed during a sickness. He'd curl up in bed for days without saying a word to anyone. It just felt like too much energy to form thoughts, much less voice them. When he woke up this morning, he found the youngest Hawthorne latched onto him.

That's how Xander responded to sickness. He'd curl up with the closest brother and it was very difficult to get out of a sick Xander hold.

However, two out of the four brothers didn't prioritize rest as a way to heal.

A huff came from the door. "There he is."

Nash looked up to see Libby marching her way in to the room. With her better and not wanting to get sick again, she'd been sleeping in one of the nearby guest rooms.

"I swear I looked away for one second and he poofed away," she explained.

The eldest Hawthorne brother gently squeezed her arm. Not too hard, not too soft. Just a gentle way of showing her it was okay.

With gloves on her hands, Libby blew him a kiss because germs. "Atleast he didn't try to run away like the other two."

Nash sighed. He'd been afraid of that.

He skillfully slid one of his pillows into Xander's arms before pulling himself up out of bed.

"You should rest." Libby moved her hand to his shoulder. "We can take care of them."

Nash squeezed her hand in that same gentle way as he stood. He knew his little brothers better than her. Getting them to rest wasn't going to be easy.

The eldest carefully padded his way out the door. He knew exactly where Jameson would be.

Fevers made Jameson Hawthorne restless.

He already couldn't sit still, but a fever seemed to take away any rationale he had left. When he was seven, Jameson had caught a nasty cold from one of his classmates. The old man had found him practicing dirt biking with a 103 degree fever.

It took a bit for anyone to even talk him out of the stunts and go home. That was just how Jameson handled sickness.

Nash entered the gym. He found Avery with her arms crossed staring up the rock climbing wall.

When he followed her gaze, their was his little brother halfway up it.

Avery sensed his presence without him saying a word. "I can take care of him."

Jameson jerked his head down. "I'm fine Heiress."

The cough that followed said otherwise.

"Clearly," Avery retorted.

From what Nash could see, Jameson was covered in sweat. He panted quite a bit as he sought to put one hand in front of the other.

Normally he was quicker and not as out of breath on a skill like this. Like the dirt biking, the fever was making his technique sloppy.

Avery sighed. "I'm serious Nash. Go get some rest, please."

"Should listen to her," Jameson called down. "She obviously knows what she's talking about."

In response, the eldest Hawthorne scooped her up in a bear hug.

Impressively, the younger heiress didn't loose her cool. "Nash."

Nash set her down a good foot or two away from the base of the rock wall. His grip then went to her shoulder as he tried to settle himself from a dizzy spell.

Avery squeezed the hand. "You don't have to do this."

The eldest Hawthorne felt his head clear enough to squeeze her shoulder in response. It was the same message he had been trying to give Libby.

Once he had legs back underneath him, Nash stepped back up to the rock wall.

Jameson looked down as another coughing fit broke his concentration. "If I fall, you may not want to stand there."

If I fall. Jameson didn't even know if he had the energy to keep himself up there.

"Serious."

Nash moved to climb up when his younger brother's foot slipped.

Normally, Jameson could right himself immediately from a slip like that. But again, a fever ridden brain made for very sloppy technique.

"I've got it. I've . . ."

Nash tensed.

The younger haphazardly pushed himself off the wall, but there was no way he was landing that dismount without some sort of injury.

Nash jumped back in time to break his fall. Both brothers tumbled to the ground, the wind getting knocked out of them both.

The eldest laid on his back to make the room stop spinning.

Avery squatted beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Nash finally got out.

The eldest Hawthorne brother took a second to pull himself up before turning to his younger brother.

Jamie coughed harshly as he pushed himself partially up. The daredevil of the group looked absolutely exhausted after his stint up the rock wall.

Nash squatted back down where he lifted Jameson into a fireman carry over his shoulders.

The daredevil gripped his older brother's arm. "Put me down."

"Don't listen to him."

Nash turned to Avery.

"I'll get a change of clothes if you bring him to his room," she promised before turning.

"No."

Avery turned back.

"My room," the eldest brother told her.

The young heiress took one step back to him. "Yours?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'll meet you there then."

"Thanks," the eldest Hawthorne squeaked out before heading toward his room with his younger brother.

Jameson wasn't the heaviest thing Nash had lifted, but he wasn't the lightest either, making the way back feel extra long. Especially with his younger brother trying to fight him in his weakened state.

"I don't need a babysitter," Jamie argued.

Nash didn't say a word.

Finally at one point, Jameson sagged, his death grip on the eldest Hawthorne's arm going slack.

The eldest glanced back.

"M'kay," his younger brother assured him.

Again, the cough rattling around in his chest said otherwise.

When Nash finally got back to his room, Libby was still nearby.

She pulled the blankets back. "Finally got him down?"

Nash nodded before setting Jamie down on the mattress.

A true testament to his exhaustion, the younger Hawthorne didn't even fight to get away this time. His face even looked a bit pinched.

The eldest Hawthorne sat down on the edge of the bed. He brushed back the strands of dark hair stuck to Jameson's forehead.

"Stop worrying about me. I'm fine," the younger Hawthorne pointed out before coughing again.

Libby rubbed Nash's shoulders. "Why did you bring him here?"

The eldest Hawthorne brother reached over to shake the pillow in Xander's grip loose.

The youngest rolled over to try to find the pillow only to collide with Jameson. He then latched on tightly, pinning his brother in place.

"So that was your plan," Libby connected.

Nash nodded before pushing himself back up.

"Where are you going now?"

"Gray."

"He's at the trust fund building though. Can't someone else bring him back?"

Nash grabbed his keys. He just knew the stubborn headedness of the Hawthorne blood line wouldn't allow it. "Doubt it."

"Nash, you really should rest."

The eldest smothered a few coughs into his arm.

Libby's hand rubbed up and down his back. "Why don't we send Oren or even Alicia?"

"Won't listen."

"Better than you hurting yourself."

Nash reached over to squeeze her arm.

Even with a fever, the eldest Hawthorne brother made the drive to the building. He also made himself somewhat presentable before getting out. Last thing he needed was bad press leaking out photos of him showing up here in a pair of dirty sweatpants and a sweat soaked shirt.

This was how Grayson handled sickness. The final Hawthorne brother didn't want to let anything stop him from working. In fact, he seemed to throw himself more into work to hide the fact that he was ill. Sadly, it often led to Grayson nearly collapsing when he got home because his weakened body just couldn't keep up. The younger Hawthorne always felt he had something to prove no matter what.

Nash strode into the building before finding his final younger brother sitting at his desk. Grayson looked fine at first glance, but a few signs let the eldest Hawthorne know he was struggling.

A light flush on his cheeks.

The wrinkle behind his left eye.

The fact that it took him three seconds longer than normal for him to register Nash was standing in the doorway.

"You're supposed to be at home."

Nash shook his head before stepping in. "You."

Not a question. A statement.

"I'm fine."

The eldest Hawthorne didn't break eye contact.

Grayson glanced back over to his computer screen. "I'm fine."

There was only two ways this could go. Grayson gave in first or Nash carried him out the same way he'd carried Jameson.

"You can go."

Nash glanced back up. The tone he said it in gave the impression of the second statement being true.

"I have some work to finish anyway," Grayson continued.

The eldest Hawthorne didn't move.

Grayson coughed into his elbow before continuing. "Nash, go home."

"Really little brother?"

The briefest hint of a twitch appeared on Grayson's eyelid. "I could call someone to drive you."

"Drove myself."

"Then you can drive yourself back again."

Nash didn't pick up speed nor did he slow down. He just walked toward the desk.

Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nash."

The eldest Hawthorne stepped around the side of the desk. His younger brother looked worse up close.

Obviously this sickness had been going on a lot longer than this morning. The exhaustion behind his eyes almost bled out into the rest of his body.

Nash squeezed his younger brother's arm.

"I'm fine."

The eldest Hawthorne stayed put.

Grayson pushed up a moment later. "I'm fine."

A second after, the younger Hawthorne pitched forward into his older brother's arms.

Nash carefully lowered him into the office chair.

Gray's face had gone incredibly pale. He was very close to fully collapsing if the older Hawthorne didn't act quickly.

Nash gave the smallest jerk of his head toward the doorway. His little brother either walked out or he carried him out.

Grayson sighed before standing. He quickly shut everything down then the two walked out of the building and to Nash's car with the eldest sending a quick text to Libby to let her know they were on their way home.

By the time both he and Gray were in the car, the eldest Hawthorne sank forward over the steering wheel. His own sickness was catching up with him just as much as Grayson's was catching up with him.

He rested his cheek on his hands as he turned to look at the heir.

Grayson glanced up at him, his eyes glassy.

That was all Nash needed to push himself up and drive away home.

Gray managed to stay conscious all the way home.

But as soon as they pulled into the garage, his eyes rolled back into his head. The younger of the two then slumped against the window where his eyes fully closed.

Nash huffed as he leaned back against the driver's seat. The last time it had gotten this bad, Grayson had been thirteen with tonsillitis. He'd managed to make it halfway through the school day before Jameson had called him sarcasticly saying his brother was dead and that Nash needed to come collect his body. It was the closest the eldest Hawthorne brother had heard the daredevil get to a panic.

And the closest Nash had ever gotten to a panic himself.

The eldest Hawthorne yanked the keys out of the ignition before moving toward the passenger side door. He then lifted Gray's unconscious form over his shoulders.

He debated taking his younger brother to his room for a change of clothes, but the thought of walking all the way to his brother's room then back to his own made him feel even more exhausted.

So the eldest Hawthorne just headed straight to his own room.

Avery was sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Jameson, stroking her fingers through his hair. The younger Hawthorne was dressed in different clothes and he was asleep with Xander passed out on his chest.

"There you are."

Nash stepped aside to let Libby into the room. Her arms were loaded down with about a million different things.

"Avery came back with some clothes for Gray cause I figured you wouldn't want to let him out of your sight either so let me set this stuff down and we'll get you both changed," she rattled off.

"Got it," Nash assured her as he made his way to the nearby bathroom.

"You sure? It won't take me but a minute."

"Got it," Nash told her again.

Avery stepped in long enough to place two sets of clean pajamas on the counter. "Call me if you need any help."

The eldest Hawthorne eased Grayson down on to the floor. "Thanks."

"We're here too Nash."

The eldest leaned heavily against the counter as he pulled himself back up.

One small hand firmly squeezed his arm. "You don't have to do everything yourself."

Nash squeezed her close in a weak side hug.

Avery immediately returned it with a tight one of her own. "Get changed and get in bed. After Libby pumps you full of medicine, you four can sleep this sucker away."

A weak chuckle left Nash's mouth before it got broken off by a coughing fit.

Avery stepped back. "I'll make tea."

When the eldest Hawthorne looked up, the younger heiress was shutting the bathroom door.

After getting himself fully standing again, Nash changed Grayson into his pair of the pajamas before changing himself into his own. He really wanted a shower, but he also did not have the energy to go through that right now.

So he carefully lifted his little brother before carrying him to bed. He'd deal with the messy clothes and shoes another day.

Libby already had the blanket pulled back on the other side of Xander.

Nash carefully slid Grayson under the blanket before sinking heavily to the floor. His own exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

"Nash!" Two hands pulled him up. "No no no, you are not sleeping on the floor."

Wouldn't be the first time.

The eldest Hawthorne let himself be yanked up and manhandled into bed. Libby was a lot stronger than she looked.

She then placed a kiss on his forehead. "Now, let's get you two medicated and then you can knock out for the rest of the day."

Another tired chuckle left Nash's mouth.

Sure enough, Libby got the medicine into Nash then the two worked together to get it into Grayson.

The younger Hawthorne's head came to rest on the eldest's chest. Nash didn't move him.

He carefully brushed a few slick strands of hair out of his face instead.

Libby fussed over the blanket. "Call me if you need anything, but you should follow in your brothers' footsteps."

Nash sluggishly turned to look at the other three. A slumber party in his room like they were all kids again. That brought back a lot more memories.

"Goodnight love." Libby's hand disappeared. "I'll check in on all of you in a bit."

Nash's eyes finally closed. "Thanks Libs."

"Anytime."

[byhawthorne]

Valentine's Day.

– Grayson Hawthorne x fem!xreader : she receives flowers for valentine's day but with a little puzzle

an : hi! This is my attempt writing a valentine's day special. it was supposed to be something short but i wanted to add a little something that would happen in the books and it ended up being 80% solving the puzzle. it's definitely not my best work, sorry!

Her first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend… and she couldn’t even see him. At least, not for most of the day.

It felt like the universe had conspired to make it impossible for her to see Grayson that day. Even when she had stopped by the foundation, he wasn’t there. Sometimes, she just wanted to force him to take a break.

"Excuse me."

She turned at the sound of a voice behind her just as she was about to leave. A girl she didn’t recognize stood in front of her.

"Are you Grayson Hawthorne’s girlfriend?"

She felt like she could throw up right there and there, but she just nodded. She would never get used to it—to being called his girlfriend. It had taken her so long to open up to someone again, and he had been the only person who had managed to do it.

"There’s something for you."

She frowned in confusion and waited. Maybe an envelope, a folder she had forgotten. She glanced at the papers in her hands, but she was pretty sure she had everything.

A guy approached and placed something in the girl’s arms. A bouquet of her favorite flowers was in her hands seconds later. She looked at the girl, bewildered, but the huge smile on her face made her wonder if this was just some elaborate joke she was in on.

"It's from your boyfriend," the girl explained. She said something else, but the moment those four words left her lips, her ears stopped registering anything else.

Had Grayson left the flowers there? Had he sent someone? Called a place? How had he managed to do this so quickly?

She reached for the small note nestled among the flowers, noticing the florist’s logo. For a second, it seemed familiar. But when she opened the tiny card, something inside her sank.

It was blank. There was nothing written.

She sighed before turning around and heading toward the car that was waiting for her. That strange feeling in her chest lingered. She couldn’t believe they had forgotten to write a message. Maybe he hadn’t sent anything written, and the florist had made a mistake. Maybe…

The man holding the car door open for her frowned when she didn’t step inside. She just stood there, frozen, staring at the card in her hand.

Grayson Hawthorne would never send a blank card to her. There was something more.

It was the small, unusual glimmer before getting into the car that revealed the truth—it was invisible ink.

She hated invisible ink. Avery had used it for her last invitation to some kind of dinner she had organized. Why couldn’t the Hawthornes just use regular ink? Or a simple text message would work just as well.

The tip of her shoe tapped against the ground impatiently the entire way back to her apartment. The car dropped her off at the building’s entrance. She thanked the driver, and practically ran to the elevator. A mix of desperation and adrenaline rushed through her veins—she needed to confirm if she was right.

Ignoring her cat’s meowing was difficult, but she rushed to her room and started rummaging through her drawers, hoping to find a small ultraviolet light she had stored somewhere. She huffed when she didn’t find it and scooped up her cat.

“Luka, do you remember where I left the UV light?” she murmured, though she obviously didn’t expect an answer. She stroked the cat’s head while her eyes scanned the room. Until her eyes fell on a specific drawer.

The one Grayson had nicknamed the disaster drawer.

She set Luka down and walked over, making an even bigger mess as she searched through it. The ultraviolet light appeared in front of her seconds later. Letting out a victorious gasp, she hurried back to the living room, where she had left the flowers and the card.

Turning on the UV light, she held it over the card to reveal… nothing. Her brow furrowed, and disappointment flooded her chest.

Nothing.

Why wasn’t there anything? It had to be invisible ink. If it wasn’t…

She looked around, searching for something else to focus on. That’s when her eyes landed on the small lamp by the couch.

Her mother hated that lamp. She had told her to get rid of it because she always forgot to turn it off, and the bulb overheated too much. She had even recommended the ones that didn’t emit so much heat.

She looked at the card again. Then at the lamp.

Setting the UV light down on the counter, she walked over to the small side table, took a seat, and placed the card directly under the lamp.

She waited one second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

She waited.

She waited.

She waited.

The message slowly began to appear.

A smile stretched across her face as excitement bubbled up inside her. It wasn’t UV light—it was heat.

And the message was much longer than she had expected.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to read it carefully, without rushing. Maybe this was just another clue and not the final answer.

"I still remember the night of August 9th. 9 centimeters of distance, 6 seconds and more than 20 reasons to do it. Another 20 seconds that felt like an eternity, more than 19 thoughts in my mind, 19 wishes and 19 breaths. 11 seconds later and 5 wishes hoping you felt the same. 18 seconds later you said it and you were mine."

Her mind went blank.

She was trying to think at full speed, but at the same time, she felt overwhelmed and confused. It didn’t make sense… Her eyes scanned the card again, searching for something different.

Too many numbers.

Too many numbers.

She reached for a pen and some paper, but when she couldn’t find any, she simply began writing the numbers on her leg.

8, 9, 9, 6, 20, 20, 19, 19, 19, 11, 5, 18.

She stared at them. Over and over again.

They didn’t look like coordinates, a phone number, or a date.

She hesitated, wondering if she should include the eight or if that would ruin the puzzle. August was mentioned, and August was the eighth month of the year. In her mind, it made sense—it could either break the entire code or help her solve it. She’d find out in the end.

She bit the tip of the pen as the tip of her shoe tapped against the floor, trying to think. Her brain refused to turn its gears.

If it wasn’t coordinates, a date, or a phone number, then it could only be…

Something clicked. The gears in her mind finally started turning when she realized it.

It wasn’t coordinates. It wasn’t a phone number. It wasn’t a date.

It was a numeric cipher.

Five minutes later, with a little help of the internet, she had deciphered each letter:

H, I, I, F, T, G, S, S, S, K, E, R.

Now she had a new problem. The letters were scrambled.

She huffed, letting herself fall onto her bed while staring at the jumbled letters she had written down.

She had tried to put them in order, but there were too many possible combinations—and it was already getting late.

Valentine’s Day was about to end, and if she ruined whatever Grayson had planned just because she couldn’t arrange a few stupid letters…

Her eyes drifted back to the card. Every detail.

The barely visible letters.

The letters she had written.

The texture of the card…

The logo of the flower shop.

When she first received the flowers, it had felt familiar. And only now did her brain finally piece it together.

The night of their last date before they became a couple.

The flower shop they had stopped at.

The moment she told Grayson what her favorite flowers were. Then, he had joked that he should give her flowers on every special occasion—though not necessarily from that shop.

That date, that night.

The night of their first kiss.

11 seconds later and 5 wishes hoping you felt the same.

18 seconds later you said it and you were mine.

It wasn’t random.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed the pen again, rearranging the letters she had found. Her heart pounded in her chest, hoping with everything she had that she wasn’t wrong.

And when the words finally came together—perfectly—she felt like jumping with joy.

She had solved it.

THE FIRST KISS.

"A numeric cipher?"

The silence was broken by her voice. Grayson turned around—he hadn’t heard her arrive, but she was there. She had figured it out.

"You solved it."

"The flower shop clue was too easy."

She smiled as she walked toward him.

The place of their first kiss had been the answer, and she had found it.

She had already noticed the soft glow of the candles on the table where he had set up dinner for the two of them. She didn’t even bother asking when he had found the time to prepare everything. All she could think about was how perfect it looked…

Their first kiss.

If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the nervous excitement of that day.

"I knew you could unscramble the letters on your own, but I thought I’d give you a little help—otherwise, dinner would get cold." She let out a soft laugh as she finally closed the remaining distance between them.

"I thought you had work," she murmured.

"Well, there’s this girl who keeps telling me to take a break, so I figured I’d listen to her for once." She felt Grayson’s hands on her waist, pulling her closer and closing the last few centimeters between them.

"Happy first Valentine's Day," she murmured. She could feel his breath, so close to her.

Just like their first kiss. Grayson's fingers caressed her cheek softly. He was so close to her, until… his lips finally touched hers. She could feel her heart beating hard, Grayson's soft lips moved against hers slowly and gently, enjoying the closeness, the kiss.

Their first Valentine's kiss.

[averygrambsbankaccount]

merry Christmas (eve)!! this one wasn’t requested but I wanted to write a fun little christmas fic. I know the idea of this fic is kinda ridiculous and unrealistic but I thought it was funny (: I hope you guys enjoy 💗

word count: 3292

A Hawthorne Christmas Special Disaster

Christmas at Hawthorne House was magical, and everyone knew it. It was better than the North Pole itself. Christmas trees were in every hall, every room, so many of them it would be a fools errand to even attempt to count them. There were wreaths on every door, mistletoe on every chandelier, eggnog and hot chocolate on every table, and high Christmas spirit all throughout.

So, to put it simply, it was magical. A winter wonderland, so to speak!

This Christmas Eve, the House was full of guests. The usuals; Avery, Libby, and the Hawthorne brothers, along with Oren, Alisa, Nan, Thea, Rebecca, Max, and Zara. New additions this year were Gigi; Grayson’s cheerful younger sister who was basically the embodiment of the word hyper, and Grayson’s new girlfriend, Lyra. 

The house was practically bursting at the seams with how many guests were staying this Holiday, but Avery stayed true to the statement The more the merrier! and reacted positively to every new arrival the night before Christmas.

With so many people there, the presents were overflowing too. So, they all agreed to put them in one room, and they would all be transported to the biggest tree in the house that night. The room was covered from floor to ceiling in presents, varieties of coloured wrapping paper making it a bit hard on the eyes.

Even with the presents taking up most of the space, Xander somehow still managed to run one of his contraptions through the rooms. Someone should really be monitoring him at all times, and maybe that was where they went wrong. Unattended, Xander usually managed to do one of his favourite things, even by accident; blow stuff up. 

Whilst everyone went about their day, preparing for the big holiday coming up so soon, Xander was causing some big trouble. In his defense, he didn’t know it would blow up like that.

Avery and Jameson were in the library together when they heard the firework sounding, extremely close, extremely concerning, boom. It was even more absurd considering how quiet the library had been moments before the explosion had rocked it.

“Did a bomb just go off?” Avery was quite calm, albeit very confused.

“No,” Jameson took her hand and started leading her to the direction of the explosion noise. “I think it’s more likely Xander just went off.”

Grayson was sitting quietly, working at his desk with Lyra on her phone behind him when the incident occurred.

“What the fuck goes on this house?” Lyra sat up.

“Xander,” Grayson stood, sighing internally. “And I believe it’d be more accurate to describe it as him going off.”

Oren was keeping an eye on the security cameras when Xander made the Christmas big bang happen, so he had the pleasure of watching it all happen in real time. He rubbed his forehead in frustration when one of his men walked on.

“Sir, we heard the explosion. Is there a threat?”

“No,” Oren sighed. “Just Xander. Again.”

It seemed everyone was used to his antics by now.

The loud noise of the explosion soon led them all to the room where it happened, where Xander was currently standing with half an eyebrow missing, a face caked in dirt, and a shocked expression.

“Ok!” Xander exclaimed as they all walked into the room. “It was an accident, I swear!”

“Did it really have to happen in the room where all the presents are?” Thea sniped.

“Um,” Max quietly commented. “I think you mean the room where the presents were.”

“They do seem to have disappeared.” Rebecca pursed her lips, and a collective sigh of exasperation seemed to echo through the room.

———

The presents really did seem to have disappeared. If you looked at the broken windows or the literal hole in the wall, it wasn’t too hard to discern where they had gone to.

“They’re out on the grounds!” Libby ran her hands through her hair. “They could be anywhere! They could be gone!”

“Ok, everyone calm down,” Nash put his arm around Libby’s shoulder. “They gotta be out there somewhere. Let’s all just go look. I’m sure we could find them.”

“And if we don’t, Santa can just bring us replacement ones!” Gigi said, then in respond to the looks she was given added: “I’m joking! Duh!” (But the way she looked down sure didn’t make it seem like she was joking)

“So, we go look. Isn’t this what Christmas is about? Finding hope when all is lost?” Avery tried to bring up the mood.

Max scoffed. “Actually, Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, which I have already informed you of, Avery-“

Zara brought her hands together, abruptly ending that sentence. “Let’s just go look for those damned presents, shall we?”

There was a chorus of agreement throughout the room, and they started to make their plans to divide and conquer. Avery turned to her boyfriend beside her and noticed the especially nervous look on his face.

“Jameson?” Avery looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jameson put his hands on her shoulders. “Why don’t you go with Gigi and Lyra…I think I’m gonna go with my brothers.”  

Avery nodded, biting her lip in worry. She didn’t want to say anything, but she feared he was hiding something from her. 

The groups were made and the plan wasn’t really a plan at all; it was just look. It felt a bit like they were saving Christmas.

As everyone shuffled out of the room, Xander’s voice called out one last time to them all; “I’m really sorry guys! I swear! It won’t happen again!”

“It will,” Nan snorted from her seat next to the piano. “Oh, it will.”

Avery, Lyra, and Gigi were walking along the east side of the estate, coats wrapped tightly around their bodies and their breath creating clouds in the air. It was mostly silent, until Gigi spotted a wrapped little miracle in the distance. 

“Look, I found one!” She took off running, and Avery and Lyra struggled to keep up with their freezing legs, until with no warning, Lyra was suddenly miles ahead of Avery too.

“How,” Avery panted “Are you guys so fast in this weather?” She rested her hands on her knees when she finally reached them.

“I’m a runner,” Lyra shrugged, taking the present box from Gigi’s hands.

“From Nash, to Libby.” Lyra read off the tag.

“Oooh, what do you think it is!” Gigi said excitedly. 

“None of our business.” Avery and Lyra said at basically the same time, each of them laughing a little at the coincidence.

“Jinx!” Gigi exclaimed. “I did it for you, since you guys forgot to.” She smiled brightly.

On the west side of the estate, the four Hawthorne brothers walked together. 

“Don’t look so nervous, Jamie,” Nash pushed his shoulder. “It’ll work out.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Grayson added coldly, raising a blonde eyebrow in Xander’s direction “We know who to blame.”

“Hey! I didn’t mean to blow your-“ 

“Shhh,” Jameson shushed him. “You never know who could be listening.”

Grayson silently rolled his eyes.

Xander continued, “I didn’t mean to blow your redacted out the wall! It just happened!”

“Well my ‘redacted’ is pretty darn important, Xander!”

“Let’s not fight. Maybe we should just focus on finding it.” Grayson stayed calm as ever.

“Yeah, before Avery does. That wouldn’t be good.” Nash winced just imagining it.

“God, don’t stress me out more!” Jameson ran his hands through his hair. “Everyone just…focus on looking!”

Libby, Max, Rebecca and Thea were together, but they were separated into two different duos waking close. Rebecca and Thea were a bit more focused on their romance than the presents, and Libby and Max were preoccupied with gossip.

“So, you know right?” Max whispered. “He told you?”

“Yes, of course!” Libby whispered back. “Well…technically Nash told me, but it’s fine.”

“Same,” Max giggled. “Xander told me. He’s not too good at keeping secrets from me..but not to worry, for I’m great at keeping secrets!”

“Me too,” Libby agreed. “My lips are sealed, one hundred and ten percent.”

Rebecca and Thea were caught up in a passionate conversation when one of them spotted a box sitting on the roof of a small shed. “Look, I found one!” 

“Wow, that’s a big box.” Libby commented. “How do we get it down?” 

“I’m on it!” Max was already scaling the wall.

“Uhhhh..” Thea raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Are we sure she’s not gonna like…break her leg doing that?”

“I’m fine!” Max was already on the roof, handing the wrapped box down to Libby. She climbed down the wall as easily as she had gone up it, landing on the ground without even a thud. “See?” She said smugly.

“I guess she’s got it under control.” Rebecca shrugged.

The adults of the group were together, though none of them seemed too happy about it. Alisa, Oren, and Zara walked in silence, whilst Nan had opted to stay inside and let the young ones do the dirty work.

“I’m going to kill Xander,” Alisa rubbed between her eyebrows. “I’m a lawyer, for gods sake! How do I end up cleaning up explosions every other damn day?”

“You’re Hawthorne-Adjacent,” Zara studied her nails. “You should expect this by now.”

Oren crossed his arms. “My job description said bodyguard. Now what have I become? A janitor! A directions man!”

“You’re employed to a billionaire,” Zara, ever the realist, stated. “An extremely generous one, at that. Complain all you want, but people would kill to be out here in the freezing cold looking for presents that were blown out a wall just for fun.”

None of them could disagree with that.

“I found a present.” Alisa deadpanned, pointing a manicured finger at a lonely tree on the property, somewhat resembling a Christmas tree, that had a present stuck high up in its branches.

Both the ladies turned to look at Oren, who sighed deeply and then began to climb.

Gigi and Lyra were ahead of Avery, whispering and giggling quietly. Avery looked around at the snow covered trees, and at footprints on the ground, at anything to make it seem like else wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the heavy wind made it quite hard to hear what they were saying, but it was clearly something she wasn’t meant to know.

Is everyone keeping something from me? At this point, she was getting a little pissed off.

The brothers walked in silence, looking out on the mostly undisturbed snow. 

“Look!” Xander called out of the blue. “Down that hill!”

Sure enough, down the hill was a jackpot. It seems lots of the presents had tumbled right down into there.

Nash whistled. “Looks like we got ourselves some carrying to do.”

Jameson jogged down the hill, throwing big boxes out of his way in his rush to find it. But, in the giant pile of big presents, there was no little, perfectly wrapped one.

“It’s not here,” Jameson threw his head back. “It’s not here!”

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Xander patted his back. “We will find it! We will not give up!”

“Do I have to carry all these back myself?” Grayson snapped them back to reality with his cold voice.

They got to work.

“Do you think the others have had any luck?” Alisa has by now realized there her shoe choice wasn’t the most…practical for this activity. Although, Zara was wearing heels too and seemed perfectly fine.

“I sure hope so,” The cold air biting at her ankles didn’t bother Zara one bit. “They will be beside themselves if this holiday is ruined. And I mean, honestly, I would just like to relax for now.”

Alisa was opening her mouth to agree when her heel caught on something and she fell forward. Oren caught her in her arms and she put a hand to her chest.

“God, that scared me.” Alisa looked down at the tiny box she had tripped over, which Zara was currently picking up.

Alisa’s eyes narrowed. “Give me that,” She snatched it from her hands.

When she saw the shape of the box and the names written on the top, Alisa was hit with a headache which can only be described as the headache of an impending PR nightmare.

“Jameson Winchester Hawthorne!” She screamed, loud enough that everyone near Hawthorne house would surely hear.

“Did you hear that?” Avery looked up from the ground.

Lyra and Gigi looked up too. 

“Um,” Lyra looked at Gigi nervously. “Should we go check on them?”

“First you guys need to tell me what you’re whispering about,” Avery crossed her arms and stood in front of the pair.

“I want to, so bad! But I-“ Gigi burst out, and Lyra slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Listen, Avery, I’m sorry. But..you’ll know soon enough anyways.”

Avery side eyed her. She’d heard that one before.

“I’m telling the truth!” Lyra defended herself.

Avery was stopped from responding by the sight of all four Hawthorne brothers coming into view, walking hurriedly. They were heading towards the sound of the yelling.

“Come on, guys.” Gigi grabbed the two girls arms and led them in the direction the brothers were heading; towards Alisa, Oren and Zara.

Alisa still stood with the box grasped tightly in her fist, looking at the approaching Jameson with a blank look on her face.

“Seriously?” She muttered. 

Jameson looked at the small present box in her hand, internally sighing in relief that it wasn’t lost forever. “Uh..yeah.”

“She’s 19! You’re 20! Do you know what they’ll be saying in that tabloids? And god knows I’ll be the only one working to fix that!” She scolded him.

Jameson bit his lip, looking behind him for backup. His brothers all seemed preoccupied with the nature around them at the moment rather than the conversation happening in front of them.

“What’s going on?” Avery approached them, the two other girls in her group not far behind. “What’s that?”

It seemed like everyone knew something she didn’t, with the way they all looked at each other. They all knew what the hell was going on, and she had no clue.

“You guys are driving me crazy! Ugh!” She threw her hand hands in the air dramatically, beginning to walk back towards the house.

The scene was quite absurd, with everyone standing silently, watching her retreat. Alisa still held that damned box, and Jameson’s mouth was open as if to explain himself, but he stayed quiet.

“Ow! Fuck!” They heard faintly in the distance, following a barely audible banging noise. “Fucking box!”

“I found the rest of the presents!” Her voice was louder this time, and then immediately followed by the door slamming as she walked back into the house.

Their mouths stayed glued shut for a few moments before Xander decided to clear the air. 

“Ahem,” Xander started trudging through the snow. “You heard her! Get to those presents!”

It turned out, the rest of the presents had blown into a snow bank near a door of Hawthorne House, a big pile just sitting there like Santa’s sleigh had gotten into an accident.

They transported them inside in a conveyor belt system, passing them along. It was quite efficient, and soon the presents were loaded up in the foyer.

“Maybe don’t blow this room up, Xander?” Max joked.

“Don’t sweat it! I’ve learned my lesson.”

Almost everyone in the room rolled their eyes.

“Where’s Jameson?” 

“He took the box.” Alisa said, and they all made eye contact.

“Does that mean…” Libby said excitedly. 

Alisa sighed. “Honestly, I hope not.”

It did in fact mean that. Jameson found Avery in a room not too far from the foyer, sitting by herself. She looked mad.

“Avery,” He said, his voice soft.

“Jameson,” She didn’t sound as happy to see him.

“Listen, Avery, I’m really sorry. But I promise I never wanted to lie to you.”

“So you’re gonna tell me what you’ve been hiding from me?”

He nodded lightly and pulled the box out from his pocket.

She looked at it with wide eyes, suddenly thinking of a possibility she hadn’t thought of before. “I-“

“I was going to do this on Christmas.” Jameson slowly said. “But I think it’s only right to do it now.” He handed her the box.

Avery ripped off the wrapping at lightning speed and upon seeing the black box underneath it her hands started to shake. “Jameson…” Was all she managed to say.

Torturously slow but as fast as she could manage, Avery opened the box, and her eyes were immediately hit by a sparkling glow. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Probably wasn’t what she was supposed to say in that moment; but she said it anyway.

When Avery looked up, Jameson was on one knee. She gasped.

“I’ll keep this short,” He cleared his throat. “Avery, Saint Avery. I will love you for the rest of my life, and past that, and nothing will change that. I want nothing more than to be with you forever. Will you help make that wish come true? I understand if you’re not ready, and I’m prepared to wait, but…Avery Kylie Grambs, will you marry me?”

Avery could do nothing but stand in shock for a few minutes, and Jameson started to feel slightly terrified. What if she says no?

A smile started to spread across her features. “Yes!” She exclaimed. “Yes, I will!”

They kissed, and it was perfect. The perfect embodiment of the Christmas spirit, minus baby Jesus. 

This romantic, amazing, never to be re created moment was interrupted by a flood of people bursting through the doors.

Squeals of “You’re engaged!” echoed through the room and Avery and Jameson broke apart. Jameson slid the ring onto Avery’s left ring finger before they turned to face the rest of the group.

“Yeah,” Avery giggled. “We are.”

Alisa came forward. “This really is not going to hit that press well. You couldn’t have waited, like, two years? Do I really have to deal with teen pregnancy rumours?”

She paused and looked between them, seeming to be considering something.

“But, I’m happy for you two.” She smiled.

“Thank you, Alisa,” Avery hugged her, and that started a chain of Avery hugging everyone.

“My best friend is getting married! My best friend is getting married!” Max sang.

After everyone finally dispersed, Avery returned to the room of the explosion alone. There, she found Nan, still sitting alone.

“Sit, girl,” She said, mentioning to the space beside her, and Avery obeyed.

“So you’re going to be a Hawthorne?”

Avery nodded silently.

“Marriage is dangerous. Make sure he’s good to you. Tell me if he’s not.” Nan informed her bluntly.

“I-I will.” Avery smiled at her.

A few moments of silence passed, and Avery assumed that was her cue to leave. As she was walking out the door, she heard Nan say one last thing.

“Don’t tell them I said this, but I’m happy to have you apart of this wretched family, girl.”

Avery grinned at her new great-grandmother in law.

———

Christmas morning, thankfully, didn’t involve any explosions, unless the mass amount of hastily ripped wrapping paper landing on the floor counted. Some of the presents had snow or dirt on them from their trip outside, but no one seemed to care.

Christmas morning was filled with joy, and a newly engaged Avery and Jameson felt a lot of it. Everyone did.

Presents were opened, hugs (and kisses) were shared, and it became another magical Christmas at Hawthorne house.

As everyone settled down and the house was quiet in the comfortable Christmas afternoon way, a very familiar boom sounded through the house, followed by an ear piercing screech: “XANDER!”

[f4iry-bell]

Hiiiii love hru?

Sooo I was wondering if you could write a blurb of (reader X Grayson Hawthorne) where their kid asks how babies are made or smth similar totally up to you

Hope you have a great rest of day/evening xx

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

pairing: dad!grayson hawthorne x mom!reader

summary: the ask :)

warning: none.

tagging: @unnoodles @nqds @alwaysthefangirl @clarissaweasley-10 @benny1989fredd @imaseabear @never-enough-novels @elysianwayy77 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou @emelia07 @cassie6392

a/n: 😞guys but genuinely how are babies made?

masterlist

“How are babies made?” Grayson and his wife's kid just walked into their room and demanded the answer, she picked that tone from her father.

His wife just looked at Grayson for help but he was awfully quiet.

“Um, you see. So first of all, it's like a…um” she was looking for something to tell their 6 year old “a race!”

“Running race? Or swimming? Or something else? I like to swim.” She said. Another skill which she picked up from Grayson.

“Sort of like swimming?” His wife struggled. Grayson on the other hand just kept smiling at this amusing interaction. “Your father will explain the rest!”

“Actually, I don't know how babies are made.” Grayson shrugged.

“But you're an adult.” His daughter pointed.

“None told me how they are made. Why don't you continue, sweetheart?” He asked his wife who rolled her eyes.

“So, the race. It takes place in the pool of heaven. If you win, you'll be taken by a crane and it'll deliver you to parents of your choice.”

“Interesting theory. But where exactly do these babies come from? I mean they have to come out of somewhere to take part in the race, right?” 

“A huge womb.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“Yeah, there's a huge womb. Like a pot almost. And when you're ready they'll send you to the race.”

“But who are ‘they?’” Grayson asked as if he's the child.

“Angels.”

“They're not real, mummy.” 

“Fine! You know how they are made? When two people love each other, they kiss, and then magically a baby will be inside the woman!!”

[inmyheaddd]

late to the party - jameson hawthorne x reader

a/n: little jameson blurb while i work on requests 🤭 i hope u enjoy!! summary: jameson very inconsiderately interrupts your ootd, coming up from behind you and kissing you all over wc: 624 masterlist

after 2 long hours, you had finally finished getting ready for an event you were going to. today, you truly did feel beautiful. 

you set up your phone to film a little “outfit of the day” video, pressing the record button and taking a few steps back from the camera. 

through the small phone screen, you saw your boyfriend jameson open the door and enter your room, causing you to turn around briefly, smiling at him. you felt your heart flutter as you took in his appearance — his suit tailored to perfection, tie matching your dress, and his fingers adorned with a ring or two. 

“anyway,” you addressed the camera with a flustered chuckle, “these are my heels today, and my…”

you continued your outfit check, of course, with jameson simply standing next to you now with the most lovesick gaze. it made you feel all fluttery and you stumbled on a word or two — and if that wasn’t enough, he very rudely interrupted you. 

he didn’t exactly say anything to cut you off, but with moving to stand behind you, and wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you from behind, what did he expect?

a laugh fell past your lips as you turned your head to look at him, “what are you doing?”

he hummed lowly in response, muttering compliments into your ears. he swayed you gently side to side before he started peppering your neck with kisses. they were so featherlight, they felt like tickles. 

giggling and not breaking away from jameson, you blindly reached for your phone and pushed it face down. you turned to face him now, wrapping both arms around his neck as his hands found your lower back.

“jameson,” you managed to get out between breathless laughs as he continued to attack your neck, walking the both of you backwards until your back hit the mattress. 

you kicked off your heels and he crawled ontop of you, a mischievous grin of his own on his face, before finally pressing a kiss to your lips.

yes, he smudged a lot of your lipstick off, yes, you’d have to reapply later, and yes, you were probably going to be late to the event. but it was definitely worth it. 

you cradled his face with your hands as you pressed short kisses to his lips, and there were endless small, breathless, laughs coming from the both of you time whole time. 

much to the both of your dismay’s, breathing was not an optional choice, so jameson pulled back, laying flat on his back and catching his breath as you did the same.

you turned your head to look at him, a faux pout on your lips as you looked at him.

“i can’t post that video now.” you mumbled.

he chuckled breathlessly and turned his head to look at you, another one of those grins on his face from earlier, one you’d never get tired of. “why not?” he quipped back, “i don’t see a problem with it.” 

his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes jokingly. “right, because everyone would just love to see me get ambushed by my obsessed boyfriend.”

he laughed once again, “… i mean,” he trailed off “i would.” he said, pursing his lips and shrugging, not denying the ‘obsessed’ title you jokingly gave him.

this time you couldn’t hold back the giggle that threatened to escape, “shut up,” you said, attempting to hide your flushed state. you sat up and put your heels back on, and jameson stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit jacket. “we’re going to be so late.” you continued.

“fashionably late,” he offered, as you fixed your lipstick in the mirror. he just leaned back against the wall, watching you with that same lovesick grin.

he would be late to every event, if it meant having you like this. and even with all your sarcastic remarks and eye rolls, you’d let him mess up your makeup any day.

and that grin of his just told you he knew that fact all too well.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @sweetlikeanangel @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee

[wildesqdreams]

hi! I love your blog!

Can you maybe write a Jameson hawthorne x reader fic based off of I can see you by Taylor swift? If not it’s totally fine

i can see you

pairing - jameson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - a friendship becomes so much more, but it's not for other eyes to see.

warnings - none, just kissing and love.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: I AM SO SORRYYYYY, THIS TOOOK SOOOOO LOOONG TO WRITE. i just had no motivation or inspiration, but i will be doing other requests, too.

i've been watchin' you for ages

and i spend my time tryin' not to feel it

"you should just finally gather the courage and say it," y/n's classmate, lucy, spoke, beside her, "you're just torturing yourself."

the girl removed her gaze from him and looked at her, "absolutely not," she closed her locker, "and i'm getting over it, so just stop talking about him."

"then stop staring at him every time when he's in your view."

y/n rolled her eyes. but mostly because of how stupid her heart was.

she tried. she really did. to stop the warm feeling, ambraising her every time he was near. or to get rid of the goosebumps that appeared when his touch scarred her skin. or the desire to throw their friendship away just to feel his lips on hers.

it was like every time she saw him, she could imagine it. his arms around her. his lips on hers. their bodies pressed against each other up against the wall.

but it was all just a fantasy. a desire.

"let's go, or we will be late," she walked to class with lucy, not feeling the green eyes locked on her back. the same green eyes she fantasizes about all the time.

and we kept everything professional

but something's changed, it's somethin' i, i like

popular wasn't the word that you would describe jameson hawthorne as or the other hawthorne's. he was a dangerous threat. his mind a powerful weapon. jameson hawthorne was a boy with a different view to the world - it being a game. a riddle.

maybe that was the reason for people respecting him and his family. because of the wealth, reputation, and the name. or maybe it was because jameson hawthorne was a wanted treat, on whom all the eyes laid.

but like they didn't know a lot of things about the boy, they didn't also know one of the biggest secrets that hid behind his green eyes - that he was trying to move a piece on the board towards something frightening but exciting.

so, just like that, friendly conversations with flirty comments turned to secret touches and heated kisses.

it was important for jameson to keep the relationship as a secret. for a hawthorne grandson with a reputation so big it was a risk to show his private life to the public. the boy was scared that the talks and whispers would destroy something so magnificent and special. jameson hawthorne was scared that by making a mistake, she would get hurt, and he couldn't help.

'Cause I can see you waitin' down the hall from me

And I could see you up against the wall with me

his lips were on hers as soon as he pulled her into an empty classroom, his hands on her hips.

every time y/n was with jameson, she could feel her heart pound. the girl could feel the adrenaline rush through her body. with the hawthorne, she felt free. euphoric.

"i have maths in ten minutes," y/n murmured against his lips as they slowly backed away.

"mhm."

as soon as her thighs hit the desk, jameson lifted her up and stepped in between her legs. his lips still on hers.

her hand found its way to his hair, "we're revising for a test."

jameson started preparing light kisses along her jaw, while his thumb drew small circles on her thigh.

"it's very import-"

"i swear to god, if you don't shut up about studying for once, i'll drop you out from school," jameson finally spoke as he looked into her eyes.

the girl giggled.

"you'll do great, y/n/n, i know you will," he leaned in and kissed her neck, "and if you won't i'll help, but i think either way you'll need me, beacuse you're trash at combinatory."

the girl pushed him back with a shocked smile, "you just said that i'll do great!"

"didn't want to tell the hard truth," he smirked.

"jerk," y/n rolled her eyes while smiling.

"yeah, but you love me, and i love you, so you can't stay mad at me," he saw her grin and gave her a small kiss, "i love your smile."

y/n's stomach filled with butterflies, and she pulled jameson in by the neck as she connected their lips.

Oh, I see you, I see you, baby

I see you

"he's looking," lucy spoke.

y/n felt her cheeks heat up, but she continued doing her homework.

"what is he even doing in a library, doesn't he have important hawthorne stuff to do?"

"like what?"

"like getting the arrogant stick out of his ass?"

the girl snorted, which caused other people to look at her, "that's graysons job, not jamesons, " she whispered, ignoring the people.

before lucy could respond, y/n's phone vibrated. she checked and saw a message from a someone.

'i would love to hear that laugh again. meet me at midnight?''

'you actually are a shit'

'i love you too and i'll take that as a yes.'

y/n couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face. that boy was gonna be the death of her.

"it's him, isn't he?"

"what? no?" she put the phone down, and resumed to her work.

lucy chuckled, "gurl, you're a terrible liar."

y/n laughed and bumped the girl with her shoulder, "shut up."

taglist: @noaboacoa @k-pevensie28 @mochamvgz @formulalina15

[shoulderscars]

I hate to be that person, but why are there no Nash Hawthorne x reader fics? CAUSE IVE READ THEM ALL. WHERE ARE AUTHORS HIDING THEM

[po1sonous-l0ve]

~♡Motorbikes and Mischief♡~

Warnings: slight innuendo

"Hey," Jameson whispered to you. "What?" You whispered back furiously.

"What are you up to?"

"Homework, why?"

"Wanna do something fun?"

Your head snapped back up to look at him. "It's like, 11 pm. What could you possibly want to... oh."

He grinned at you. "Oh, what?"

You shook your head. "You've got that glint in your eye. Whatever you're up to, I'm not a part of it."

He shrugs. "I was suggesting... something else, but now you have me thinking."

"Don't strain yourself," you mutter sarcastically.

"Ever been to the Hawthorne racetrack?"

"Jameson, I'm going to kill you!" You shout, but the wind whips your words away.

"What was that, princess?" He grinned. "Can't hear you!"

"Oh my God, how did you rope me into this," you mutter, burying your face into his back and tightening your grip around his waist. Speeding on the back of a motorcycle at midnight with the most reckless Hawthorne brother was not on your to-do list, but these things happen, you know?

3 laps of the track later, and you were a shaking leaf. "That's wasn't so bad, was it?" Jameson chuckled, swinging down from the bike, immediately earning a glare from you. "It was better than homework," he tried, grabbing you by the waist and gently lifting you off the motorbike. "Fine," you conceded. "Better than homework." You stumbled slightly, and he caught you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We should probably get to bed now," he mumbled.

"Probably," you say as you two walk back to the mansion. "But," you begin, eyes now sharing his sparkle. "I do want to try out that first idea you had."

[7975348473]

Who Needs a Father When You Have Brothers?

———————————————

CH- 2

Jameson met each of his brothers gazes before sighing in defeat. He whipped out his phone, found the message and slid the phone across the table; towards them. Had this been another normal day, Jameson would have been slightly angered by the silent defeat. But today was, unfortunately, not a normal day. This happened to be Jameson's birthday, which was going terribly, he got a stupid ass message from his biological father and his heiress was out of town. A unique day indeed.

Nash grabbed the phone and showed it to each of his brothers.

A, much appreciated, silence followed.

"Jamie. Are you-" Nash started

"Yes. I am absolutely fine. I am ravishing actually, because, incase you haven't realized, its my birthday big brother, I am great." Jameson grimaced the moment he finished. He had screwed up.

Too many adjectives, too many synonyms for 'Good', god I am on edge today-

Jameson felt Grayson's peculiar glare on him, which can be quite exposing if you let it.

"Can you try to spew anything but lies today?" Said Grayson.

"That's right, I heard somewhere that lying on your birthday leads to bad headaches. " Came Xander's reply. His nonsense was much appreciated today.

"Speak, Jamie." A demand from the oldest Hawthorne.

Welp, its either give in or get a spanking. Might as well try to divert.

"Look, I know I have a way with words, but I am as bad at expressing myself as Xander is, going without scones for a day."

"People shouldn't have to go without scones for a day brother and you know it."

"Debatable, Xander."

"Mind elaborating?"

"Well, for starters, scones are relatively unhealthy. So eating them daily cannot be good for you. Sorry to break it to you."

Xander gave a dramatic gasp before stating, "Well brother. If we were to go-"

Grayson gave Xander a tiny nudge with his elbow and shot him a glare while Nash just sighed.

"OW! What did I do?- OH!! I SEE WHAT U DID THERE- Smart move Winchester."

Welp, it was worth a shot. Thought Jameson.

"Would you try to make this easier for all of us?" Came Grayson's retort, leaving behind none of his usual sharpness.

"Whatever do you mean, Gray?" Smiled Jameson. He met Grayson's eyes. A Question. A Challenge.

Lets see if I break today Gray, try me.

Grayson let his glare rest on Jameson's face for a long while. "You know exactly what I mean, dimwit."

"Well, its no secret that I am good at reading you, Gray. But it seems I am too tired to read between the lines today." Replied Jameson.

Grayson rolled his eyes, "Well let me save you the trouble, Jamie. Just what the fuck is going through that dumbass brain of yours?"

"Oh ho- you kiss Lyra with that mouth?" 

"Would you stop diverting the fucking conversation?"

"I was asking a genuine question."

"How the hell did you manage to bring up Lyra in this conversation?"

"She's my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, of course I can bring her up in any conversation that has something to do with you."

"He has a point." Intervened Xander.

"Shut up, Xander, no one asked."

"Rude."

"Yeah, why are you being so rude to the youngest? Cut him some slack." Said Jameson, bringing a hand to Xander's thigh.

"Yeah! I can always go tell Gran. I am her favourite." Said Xander.

"Whose side are you on Xander?" Said Grayson, his voice as sharp as a knife.

"I was on yours until you asked me, Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, to shut up. Me, Gray. Really?" Replied Xander, lacking no dramatic flair.

Jameson snorted before nodding in agreement.

"Xander, have you seriously forgotten why we're here in the first place?" Asked Grayson, obviously exasperated.

"Oh, don't try to fish him back to your side now. I am his favorite brother." Said Jameson, looking to Xander for confirmation.

"Uh- well- that's not necessarily true in all cases." said Xander, awkwardly flashing Jameson a smile.

"Okay. Ouch. Direct hit little brother. I have taught you well." Said Jameson. At this Grayson snorted.

"Actually, your heiress taught me that." Replied Xander, confidently.

"See, you're useless Jameson." Said Grayson.

"And he successfully diverted you too, Gray. Commendable effort Jamie, I must say, you almost got us all there." Said Nash, finally joining in on his brothers' chaos.

Grayson sent Jameson another glare upon realizing his defeat.

Victory. Sweet as hell. 

Nash stared Jameson up and down, calculating his next move before he continued, "You're not going to give in that easily are you, little brother? "

Jameson shot Nash a crooked smile in reply.

"Then lets do this the Hawthorne way. We'll play a game. If you win, Jamie, we will allow you to continue sulking in your corner. No cars. No adrenaline-boosting activities. But we won't push for answers." Said Nash, his voice full of authority, a voice no one could say no to.

"But if one of us wins, you will have to give us all the answers we want." Finished Nash.

Both Grayson and Xander nodded in agreement.

"Well, the chances do seem to be a bit unfairly tipped towards your side, don't they brother?" Asked Jameson, innocently.

"Are you saying you might lose? "Asked Grayson, a single eyebrow raised.

Jameson turned his head to face Grayson and shot him a wicked grin. "Never."

"Right. In order to make it up to you, Jamie, you choose the game." Said Nash, fixing his collar.

Jameson thought for a good moment. He glanced at each of his brothers one by one and he noticed one thing.

Each of his brothers were unusually under-dressed today. Even Grayson.

 Each of his brothers were now staring at him, anticipation clear on their face. Jameson smirked and met their gazes. His brothers immediately understood.

"Strip-Bowling."