#Jameson hawthorne smut

[zvdvdlvr]

hi!! plz plz plz write something for jameson hawthorne while him and f!r are doing the deed and jameson has a chain on. reader wants him closer so she pulls him down by the chain (with her teeth if that's not weird to you) kinda like in red white and royal blue. ty!! ❤️

— Midday Musings

— 🩷. Synopsis. Jameson puts the moves on you.

— 🩷. Warnings. Protected sex. Silly sex. Joking. Female reader. Possible out of character Jameson but I tried 😶‍🌫️. Dirty talk. Pet names.

“Hey you,” you greeted. The man of riddles himself sighed and slithered into your arms in complete disregard of the book in your hands. “What’s up?”

“Just missed you, pretty girl,” he mumbled, one hand coming up to settle right on your boob.

You didn’t raise an eyebrow at Jameson’s actions. He always had a thing for physical touch even before you started dating. Him clinging to any and every part of you brought you as much comfort at it brought J. “Missed you too, angel,” you replied, one of your hands finding purchase in Jameson’s hair as the other skillfully slid a bookmark between the pages and closed the book.

Jameson slowly slid a hand up your shirt. “How much did you miss me?” He asks coyly, looking up at you with his infamous shit-eating grin. You laughed in response, feeling Jameson start to unclasp your bra.

“Why don’t you find out?” You shot back, pushing Jameson aside and straddling his lap. You pulled your shirt off, giggling at Jameson’s open mouthed expression as he lays his eyes on your tits. “J,” you say, breaking his concentration. “Strip, already. Don’t keep your girl waiting,” you joke, hands feeling for hem of his shirt as he moves to unbuckle his pants.

“Bossy,” Jameson chides, already feeling the air leaving his lungs as your hips grind down on his bulge through your underwear and his boxers. “Jesus, baby.”

“Not quite,” you muse. With a smile, you latch your lips onto Jameson’s, treasuring the little groans that slipped out of Jameson’s and your mouths. A big talker, but a sucker for his girl.

Jameson’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements. “Baby please,” he whispered into your lips, feeling you shove your tongue into his awaiting mouth. He swallowed your groans as you did his, growing harder and harder under your core.

“Where are they, pretty boy?” You asked breathlessly. Jameson had a habit of taking his trusty box of condoms wherever he went, hoping to entice you with offers that grew increasingly risky. So basically you had no idea where the condoms were.

The moaning mess of a man under you groaned in relief. “Nightstand, se-second drawer.”

You smiled at his stutter, glad to be able to to knock him speechless for once. As you moved to grab the box, Jameson busied himself with pulling off your underwear and his. You sat back and tore open the plastic covering. With no warning you slid the condom over Jameson’s hard cock, treasuring the catch in his breath at the touch.

When you had finally finished torturing Jameson you climbed back into his lap, capturing his lips in a kiss as you teased the head of his cock, teasingly circling your cunt over his length. “Fuck,” you breathed as Jameson’s hand crept up to- yet again- take hold of your hips and urge you down oh so slowly.

“Fuck,” Jameson breathed. He was fully sheathed in your cunt, gauging your reaction and the arch of your back carefully. “Y’look so good, baby, so good,” Jameson rasped. His eyes darted around your form- hands wrapped around Jameson’s neck, back arching in a way that looked like it could have been sculpted in marble, your thick thighs pressed close to his own. Your open mouth sucked hickies on the soft skin of Jameson’s neck while occasionally nipping his skin when you felt like it.

“You alright, pretty girl?” Jameson asked lowly, slowly rocking his hips up into you as your barely audible whimpers floated up and into his eardrums. “Want me be to fuck you now? You already falling apart before the fun even starts? Poor girl,” Jameson teased, thrusting up harshly when you didn’t reply. “Now she doesn’t have anything to say.”

You groaned at Jameson’s muses, clenching around him. “Fuck me already, you horndog,” you finally breathed.

Jameson chuckled at your demand, knowing that he too was just as desperate as you.

In one swift movement, Jameson flipped you over so that your back now rested on the sheets and Jameson could fuck you a little deeper. You squeezed tightly around him at the sudden moment, pulling a loud groan out of his throat.

“Fuck J,” you whispered, “didn’t know an old dog like you could move that fast.”

Jameson audibly gasped, pausing mid thrust to stare at you. “Old dog like me? Sweetheart-“

You giggled as Jameson racked his brain for words, dick still halfway inside of your dripping cunt. “So sensitive,” you mused, pulling his lips down to meet yours by the thin golden chain you’d gifted him on your one year anniversary while wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down to fill you up again.

[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

[cherrys-writings]

Dating grayson and him getting jealous?:)thank youu!!

Your Favorite Kisses

+18 Explicit sexual content, biting, marking, jealous Grayson

It’s not like you could have guessed this was the missing piece to your relationship. Probably a dream relationship, two friends accidentally falling for each other. You and Grayson becoming an Us. Nothing felt more right, you had him now and you couldn’t get enough, finally able to touch every inch of him. You tangle your fingers in his light hair, losing yourselves in each other. Grayson’s toned body trapping you against the wall, wandering hands teetering the line between confidence and hesitation. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Never failing to pull a gasp from you when he easily hauls you off your feet. You get to watch Grayson let go of his control. His perfect, deliberate kisses turning rushed and clumsy. The grazes of his teeth turning to full bites. 

The little “innocent” kisses. Something about when he kisses your hand makes you blush harder than anything. In public, Grayson will rarely do more than kiss your hands or cheeks, but he doesn’t keep his hands to himself. Always needing physical contact: an arm around your waist, a gentle hand on the small of your back, hand resting on your knee, or his fingers laced with yours. 

Affectionately dubbed the “princely brother,” Grayson once responded to a question about your relationship with, “she’s my queen.”

Then there are the less frenzied kisses. When you’re straddling his lap or laying on top of him. Grayson is content to hold you against him and explore your mouth with his tongue. His hands cradling your face, gently biting your lip, groaning into your mouth when you inevitably roll your hips against his. Until his large hands lock you in place, shushing your whine with an “I know sweetheart,” murmured against your skin. Always waiting for you to settle before starting again. Slowly getting you riled up with his hands lazily wandering, until you’re practically begging him to fuck you. Even then, he takes his time, worshiping every inch of your body. Kissing every area of exposed flesh, sucking and biting until you’re marked to his liking. Each one in a place for his eyes alone. 

You wouldn’t dare let anyone know that your favorite kisses come when Grayson is jealous. When someone has been staring too long, gotten a little too touchy,or flirted a bit too hard. Grayson has only so much self-control and it takes all of it to civilly get you away from whoever thinks they can touch what belongs to him and get you out of there. He doesn’t let you get a word out before crashing his mouth to yours, claiming the sounds you make as he pins you against the nearest wall, counter, whatever and pushing his thigh between your legs. 

Biting the sensitive part of your neck and growling, “almost bent you over and fucked you right there. Show him exactly who you belong to.”

Grayson’s hand covering your mouth as he plunges his fingers into your soaked entrance. “So wet already. Bet you wanted him to see me fuck you, huh?”

Your barely muffled moans are answer enough, his fingers curling just right. Grayson is just as relentless with his fingers as he is with his cock, bringing you to the edge, but not letting you fall into bliss, not yet. He wants to hear you beg for it. Beg for him to let you come. He doesn’t care who hears you, they’ll all know how good he makes you feel. The things you let him do to you. Not that pompous ass that had the audacity to touch what’s his. 

Grayson has you bent over a counter, hand tangled in your hair, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he takes what he needs. You’re thankful for the waterproof mascara when tears pool in your eyes because it's too much but just so good. His face pressed against your neck, muttering obscene words as he leaves deep purple bruises you know you won’t be able to hide. 

“Everyone will know who you belong to now. Fuck. Gonna have my cum running down your thighs the rest of the evening.”

Grayson stifles his groans against your neck, “who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours.” you pant

“Tell them who you belong to,” he growls

“I’M YOURS”

Your legs nearly give out when you come, shuddering in his arms. His hips jerk then still when he finally comes, panting against your shoulder. He helps you fix your hair as best you can before finding a back way to sneak you out of whatever event you’re at. Grayson makes sure to go back and find that bastard. Keeping eye contact as he wipes your smeared lipstick from his mouth with a handkerchief.

[cherryschaos]

Getting inspiration for the absolute nastiest Grayson Hawthorne x reader while at work is the worst

[priniya]

requests guidelines ⭐️

hello everyone! after a year (and a half?) i’ve finally got to myself to show all the things i could write for. it’s gonna be updated regularly as soon as i obsess over something new.

so . . .

i’m not sure if i’m a good person to write smut so… request if u want, but might take a long time before i post it! (i haven’t really written anything smut related so that might be bad)

please, if you request something, write a small blurb of what you’ll like to read!

i mainly write for a female reader with she/her pronouns and all that, but i’m up for gender neutral as well if you feel like it :)

i might add sth here if i think of it, but the most important part is who do i write for. bold stands for my favs, italics is like… second fav, i guess!

✩ harry potter — slytherin boys (theodore nott, mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy + pansy parkinson and daphne greengrass), marauders (james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, regulus black, evan rosier, barty crouch jr.), golden era (harry potter, ron weasley, cedric diggory, weasley twins, ginny weasley).

✩ percy jackson — greek demigods (percy jackson, leo valdez, annabeth chase, luke castellan, grover underwood, hood brothers, clarisse la rue, piper mclean), roman demigods (frank zhang, jason grace, hazel lavasque).

✩ books — the inheritance games (jameson hawthorne, grayson hawthorne, xander hawthorne, avery kylie grambs, thea laughlin), a good girl’s guide to murder (pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh), hockey boyfriends (nate hawkins, garret graham, john logan, dean di laurenti, john tucker, hunter davenport, henry turner, russ callaghan)

✩ miscellaneous series — jenny han universes (conrad fisher, peter kavinsky, kitty song covey, cam cameron, steven conklin, minho), criminal minds (spencer reid, aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, derek morgan), outer banks (jj maybank, pope heyward, rafe cameron), my life with the walter boys (alex walter, cole walter, isaac garcia, kailey)

✩ anime — haikyuu (kageyama, tsukishima, osamu, atsumu, suna, oikawa, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, semi + the rest😭).

✩ people i don’t know how to classify — zuko + sokka, steve harrington, matthew gray gubler, drew starkey, louis partridge, timothee chalamet, peter parker, nct members.

if you don’t see someone, just ask! there’s a high chance i just forgot about them xx

[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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[jenh0e]

GRAYSON!!

The Way...

Prologue: ever since your little sister, Avery, had been summoned to the Hawthorne house there's been non stop drama, problems, run-ins and romance? Let's just say, there's been a lot of tension between Grayson and you yet you don't know why. Or maybe you do...

Warnings: sexual tension, spoilers (yeah i just finished the 3rd book 😭), banter, enemies to lovers w Mr. Grayson Davenport Hawthorne !?!?!?

White smoke passed through your lips as you stood out on the balcony, enjoying the cold breeze brushing against your warm cheeks. The sound of feet padding against the tiles caught your attention and you looked down only to see the heir apparent getting ready for a swim. In this weather? You asked yourself, intrigued to see Grayson shirtless and fearless in the winter wind. His icy grey eyes then meet yours and you find yourself frozen in the moment. "Trouble sleeping?" You ask him, before inhaling the contents of tobacco into your lungs and breathing it all out.

A moment of silence passes before he finally answers. "I just need to feel something." His voice is deep and smooth, almost like silk to your ears. "Ah." you say, smiling down at him. The eye contact finally breaks when he dives into the pool, water splashing out due to his entry. You crush the butt of your ciggy and lean against your balcony frame. It's only as you watch him repeatedly do laps up and down the pool that the ball room moment flashes before your eyes.

It had been 6 months since Avery had moved in so you and Libby decided to do something to celebrate. Libby spent half of the day making Avery's favourite cupcakes whilst you were setting up the ballroom. Oren arranged a group of guards to go and fetch everything you needed which you were more than thankful for. Xander had been helping you do the party streamers but was caught in the act of skipping school so he had to rush back.

You were left all alone in the great ball room and unfortunately for you, Xander had been half way through with the streamers before he had to leave. Huffing, you grabbed the piece of long fluffy string and attempted to finish it yourself. You jumped and grabbed but it was to no avail. That was, until you felt a presence against your back putting it up for you. You turned around in a blink, only to be faced against a chest covered by a tailored dress shirt and suit. Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. "What do you want?" you say, annoyance dripping from the words. Grayson moves back, at least 3 feet away from you. Out of all of them, he had been the least welcoming to both you and Avery especially. Always, and I mean always, giving you dirty looks with those steel eyes of his.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me?" he asked, brow arching. "Why would I thank you?" you questioned, arms folding across your chest. He did nothing but place his hands into his dress pants' pockets, a powerful glare in his eye. "What's this for, anyways? A celebration for your sister? Congratulating her on taking my family's money for her own self pleasure?" You could feel your blood boiling under your skin. "You should be arguing with your grandfather about that. It wasn't our fault that he chose my sister over his own grandsons." A fire lit in Grayson's eyes, fury filling his inner being. "My grandfather was known for being very charitable. Maybe that's why he gave it to your sister. After all, you were all poor before he blessed you with his inheritance." A cocky smirk sat on those plump lips of his. Victorious was how he felt. "Charitable enough to give us everything that was meant to be yours?" a deathly silence spread across the room, both you and Grayson not daring to look away.

Stepping closer to you, the tension rose but it wasn't an angry feeling now. It was something different, like frustration mixed with desire? You couldn't tell yourself. Grayson's breath fans your eye lashes as he speaks, grey eyes looking down on you. "You really do have no idea who you're talking to, do you?" You gulped. His long, slender finger touches your chin, pushing it up to meet his eyes. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Your eyes meet his. You want to answer, argue, but it's as though your tongue is caught in your throat. "I can make anything mine like this." he says, snapping his fingers. "Even you". He steps away, that same cocky smirk on his lips. You do nothing but watch as the serious grandson of Tobias Hawthorne leaves the room, leaving you breathless and...needy.

You blink the memory away, shaking your head. That had happened 2 weeks ago and for some reason your brain wouldn't let the thought rest. It invaded your thoughts during reading, conquered your dreams in the middle of the night and swarmed your head when studying. You saw a flash of another emotion in those icy eyes Grayson suited so well but you couldn't quite crack it. When you look back down to the pool, Grayson has disappeared so you take that as a sign to go to bed yourself.

When you wake, all you hear is chaos ensuing. You rush to grab your silk robe and wrap it around your figure before opening the door to reveal the mayhem. Jameson is pinned to the floor and Grayson is on top of him, arms holding him down. Xander stands there completely unbothered whilst holding his usual morning scone and tea. Before Grayson can attack Jamie with another blow, Nash comes to the rescue. "Enough!" Is all the eldest grandson says, pulling the two apart from each other. Jameson has suffered a black eye whilst Grayson has a cut lip and bloody nose. Nash throws the brunette towards Avery, asking if she could tend to him which she does wordlessly. About to follow your younger sister, Nash stops you. "Please take Gray to the infirmary." you shed him a look. His usually tidy suit is scruffy and messy. The first 3 buttons of his shirt is torn off, revealing his chiseled abs and pecks. His sleeves are rolled up revealing his muscular forearms that bare veins on veins. One papercut and that boy is gone. You think to yourself.

"I can take care of myself." Grayson growls, fists tightening around themselves. You lift your chin. "Fair enough." yet Nash stops you again. "Please, _____." you've always liked Nash, he was the sweetest. Plus, Libby was standing right behind him, giving you those eyes so hesitantly, you agree. Grayson brows furrow and you return the look. There's nothing he could do that I couldn't. "Xander." Nash calls, slight anger in his tone. "We're gonna have to have a little talk."

While Gray sits on the infirmary bed, you prepare all you'll need in order to help heal whatever he has that is hurt. You feel eyes on you which is when you turn, seeing that cold look in his eyes again. The kind that makes you self aware and nervous. You notice he isn't exactly looking at you but rather your choice in clothes. Silk robe. Really? There's nothing you can do about it, so you just stand in front of him. Disinfectant in one hand, plasters in the other. "I can take care of myself." Grayson says again, stern, serious. You shrug. "What Nash says, goes." He scoffs at that. "So you'll listen to Nash but not me?"

This time, it's your turn to scoff. "Again, Hawthorne? You know hate repeating myself." You focus on peeling the plaster but Grayson pulls it down so your focus is on him. Only him. "Say it again, _____." his voice is deep, smooth, like silk to your ears. The blonde male stands, towering over you. "I want to hear you say it again." Your mouth is dry but you refuse to be this weak for Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

"Why would I listen to you?"

His tongue pokes against his cheek, the corners of his mouth lifting a little. "Do you know what I hate about you?" Grayson begins as he keeps trying to close the gap between you two. You keep taking steps back until your back hits the cold metal sink, making goosebumps arise on the skin behind your thighs. "I hate the way you make me feel." His arms rest on either side of you, enclosing you in a tight, warm space. "The way you invade my thoughts, conquer my dreams, swallow my entire being." His eyes are at your level now and that's when you notice the emotion he was feeling.

Lust.

"You really don't know what you do to me, _____ Grambs."

[f4iry-bell]

𝟑𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓

hiii, so im kind of close to reaching 300 followers and thought it would be fun to create an event!!! so this is what I had in mind.

imagine of your choice ( x reader)

your request can be very detailed, with your name, physical discription, how you want the character to call you(nickname), place, anything (you don't HAVE to give all that but it's the main point of the event)

types: fluff & angst, or even smau

you can request in my inbox <3 also no smut request please, i can't write it T_T

also can choose if you want the pov to be 2nd person or 3rd person

i write for grayson and jameson hawthorne for now!!!

if you don't have an idea but you want one you can request from these prompts (not my prompt)

masterlist

300 event masterlist (coming soon)

[1989stanz]

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

Prologue:

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

Disclaimer:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1:00 am

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

1:30 am

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

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

Flower Boulevard Street, 89

P.S.: Gigi must drive.

2:00 am 

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

2:15 am 

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

2:25 am 

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

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

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

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

3:35 am

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

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

4:05 

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

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

8:00 am 

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

[queenpiranhadon]

- Love Like You, Rebecca Sugar

I...write for pretty much anything! You can check my fandoms list through the main navigation on my intro post!

Here are the ones I'm most comfortable writing for though:

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ➜

› My Hero Academia / Boku No Hero Academia

› Jujutsu Kaisen

› Spy x Family

› Demon Slayer

ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ➜

› Harry Potter

› Riordanverse (check my fandoms list to which series I've read)

› The Inheritance Games

› Keeper of the Lost Cities

› The Hunger Games

ᴛᴠ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ + ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ ➜

› MCU

› Avatar the Last Airbender & Legend of Korra

› Lego Ninjago

ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ➜

› Stardew Valley

› Genshin Impact

ᡣ𐭩 = romantic pairing; ✩ = platonic pairing, ✿ = x another character (usually canon ship)

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ➜

› ⎸ Bakugou Katsuki ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Kirishima Ejirou ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Takami Keigo / Hawks ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Todoroki Touya / Dabi ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Aizawa Shouta ✩ ⎸ Hitoshi Shinsou ✩ ⎸ Todoroki Shouto ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Midoriya Izuku ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Eri ✩ ⎸ Ashido Mina ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Jirou Kyoka ✩ ⎸ Asui Tsuyu ✩ ⎸ Yaoyorozu Momo ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Usagiyama Rumi ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Gojo Satoru ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Sukuna Ryomen ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Itadori Yuji ✩ ⎸ Fushiguro Megumi ✩ ⎸ Nanami Kento ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Geto Suguru ᡣ𐭩 ⎸

› ⎸Kugisaki Nobara ✩ ⎸ Maki Zen'in ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Anya Forger ✩ ⎸ Yor Forger ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Loid Forger ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Kamado Tanjirou ✩ ⎸ Hashibira Inosuke ✩ ⎸ Agatsuma Zenitsu ✩ ⎸ Tomika Giyu ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Uzui Tengen ᡣ𐭩 ⎸

› ⎸ Kamado Nezuko ✩ ⎸ Kanroji Mitsuri ✩ ⎸

ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱ ➜

› ⎸ Sirius Black ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Fred Weasley ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Remus Lupin ✩✿ ⎸ James Potter ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Hermione Granger ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Luna Lovegood ✩ ⎸ Ginny Weasley ✩ ⎸ Nymphadora Tonks ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Percy Jackson ✩✿ ⎸ Grover Underwood ✩ ⎸ Nico DiAngelo ✩✿ ⎸ Will Solace ✩✿ ⎸ Jason Grace ✩ ⎸ Leo Valdez ✩ ⎸ Luke Castellan ✩ ⎸ Frank Zhang ✩✿ ⎸ Carter Kane ✩✿ ⎸ Walt Stone ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Annabeth Chase ✩✿ ⎸ Piper McLean ✩ ⎸ Thalia Grace ✩ ⎸ Hazel Levesque ✩✿ ⎸ Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano ✩ ⎸ Sadie Kane ✩✿ ⎸ Zia Rashid ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Jameson Hawthorne ✩✿ ⎸ Grayson Hawthorne ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Nash Hawthorne ✩✿ ⎸ Xander Hawthorne ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Avery Kylie Grambs ✩✿ ⎸ Libby Grambs ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Keefe Sencen ✩✿ ⎸ Fitz Vacker ✩ ⎸ Dex Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸ Tam Song ✩✿ ⎸ Kesler Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Sophie Foster ✩✿ ⎸ Biana Vacker ✩✿ ⎸ Marella Redek ✩✿ ⎸ Linh Song ✩✿ ⎸ Juline Dizznee ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Finnick Odair ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Peeta Mellark ✩✿ ⎸ Haymitch Abernathy ✩ ⎸ Coriolanus Snow ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Katniss Everdeen ✩✿ ⎸ Rue Barnette ✩ ⎸ Cressida ✩ ⎸ Lucy Gray Baird ✩✿ ⎸ Johanna Mason ✩ ⎸

ᴛᴠ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ + ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ ➜

› ⎸ Bucky Barnes ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Stephen Strange ✩ ⎸ Tony Stark ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Peter Parker ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Steve Rogers ✩✿ ⎸ T'Challa ✩ ⎸ Peter Quill ✩ ⎸ Thor ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Natasha Romanoff ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Yelena Belova ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Kate Bishop ✩ ⎸ MJ ✩✿ ⎸ Pepper Potts ✩✿ ⎸ Shuri ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Aang ✩✿ ⎸ Zuko ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Sokka ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Iroh ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Katara ✩✿ ⎸ Toph ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Cole Brookstone ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Kai Smith ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Zane Julien ᡣ𐭩✩✿ ⎸ Lloyd Garmadon ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Jay Walker ✩✿ ⎸

› ⎸ Nya Smith ✩✿ ⎸ Skylar Chen ✩✿ ⎸ Pixal Borg ✩✿ ⎸

ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ ➜

› ⎸ Sebastian ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Sam ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Alex ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Krobus ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Haley ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Leah ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Sandy ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Maru ✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Diluc Ragnvindr ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Zhongli ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸ Kaeya Alberich ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Tartaglia ᡣ𐭩✩ ⎸

› ⎸ Beidou ᡣ𐭩 ⎸ Klee ✩ ⎸

You are totally fine to request for any of the characters in the fandoms listed, but these are the ones I'm the most comfortable with :)

ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ➜

› ⎸ x reader ⎸ fem, gn, male readers ⎸ gore/blood ⎸ AU's ⎸ family relationships - ex. Dad Aizawa, brother Megumi ⎸ character x character ⎸ friend relationships (you and Haymitch are best friends) ⎸ character x character family relationships (Weasley twin shenanigans) ⎸ poc readers ⎸

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ➜

› ⎸ smut ⎸ racism in a positive way ⎸ homophobia in a positive way ⎸ incest + stepcest ⎸ sexism in a positive way ⎸ slander to any religion or culture in a positive way ⎸

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➜

› If I don't answer a request- I promise I don't hate you I'm super slow I'm sorry 😭

› I will not write any requests I am uncomfortable with.

› Happy requesting ~

[allofmytoxicity]

Who I will write for! :)

To preface this, I will write no smut, no self-harm, and no sa. This is down to personal issues, but I will not hate on anyone who chooses to write these topics.

Now, onto the characters!!!

NCIS

Timothy McGee

Tony DiNozzo

Jimmy Palmer

Ziva David

-

Marauders Era

Remus Lupin

James Potter

Sirius Black

Regulus Black

-

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner (x sister!reader)

-

The Inheritance Games

Grayson Hawthorne

Jameson Hawthorne

Xander Hawthorne

Avery Grambs

-

Top Gun; Maverick

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Robert "Bob" Floyd

-

MacGyver (2016)

Angus "Mac" MacGyver

-

White Collar

Neal Caffrey

-

One Of Us Is Lying (Books, not TV show)

Nate Macauley

Maeve Rojas

-

Along with any of my own original characters that I will post stories for on here along the way!

And Requests are open!

[briefkittenearthquake]

requests guidelines ⭐️

i’m not sure if i’m a good person to write smut so… request if u want, but might take a long time before i post it! (i haven’t really written anything smut related so that might be bad) 

please, if you request something, write a small blurb of what you’ll like to read! 

i mainly write for a female reader with she/her pronouns and all that, but i’m up for gender neutral as well if you feel like it :) 

✩ percy jackson — greek demigods (percy jackson, annabeth chase, luke castellan, grover underwood).

✩ books — the inheritance games (jameson hawthorne, grayson hawthorne, xander hawthorne), a good girl’s guide to murder (pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh)

✩ miscellaneous series — criminal minds (spencer reid, aaron hotchner), future man (josh futterman, wolf).

✩ anime — jujutsu kaisen (satoru gojo, yuji itadori, choso kamo, nanami kento).

✩ people i don’t know how to classify — steve harrington, matthew gray gubler, timothee chalamet, peter b. parker, five hargreeves, josh hutcherson.

[soulofapatrick]

TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

KEY

🌶️ = NSFW

🥹 = SFW

😡 = angsty

𝓝𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓗𝓪𝔀𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

The Masquerade Ball 🥹

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓗𝓪𝔀𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

A Night to Remember 🥹

Whispers in the Night 🥹/🌶️

𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓗𝓪𝔀𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Enchanted Pages 🥹

[cherrys-writings]

Do you have any idea when ur next fic is going to be out ?

18+ only

Missed You

You stumble through the dark halls of your family’s estate, the promise of your bed the only thing keeping awake now. You round the corner, there’s a light under your door. Silently opening the door and walking through the sitting area to your bedroom. Through the dim glow you can just make out Grayson under your blankets, fast asleep with the most adorable pout on his face. You tip-toe by, slipping into just a long t-shirt and watch him for a minute. Grayson shifts around groaning, “So wet for me. Dirty girl, you gonna let me have a taste?”

You stare, open mouthed, at your boyfriend; his mumbles pleas pushing away your fatigue momentarily.  

“It’s been too long, Dove, need you to come on my face. Won’t stop ‘til you’re crying.”

Before you know it, you’re on your knees beside his sleeping form, kissing his stomach where his shirt rumpled up. Grayson sighs, but shows no sign of waking. You lean down to kiss your way up his neck, quietly giggling at how responsive he is, leaning his head to the side asking for more. Slowly, you kiss and nip your way to his ear murmuring, “Wake up, Gray.” 

After an eternity, he stirs, hands tangling in your hair, “You’re home,” his voice raspy, “I wanted to be the first person to see you when you got back, Dove.” 

He kisses you long and slow, like he could make the moment last forever. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Were you having a good dream?”

Grayson’s eyes widen, instead of responding, he pulls you down for another searing kiss. Tongue sliding against yours, savoring the soft gasps that escape. He groans when you suck his lip into your mouth, softly biting him. His hands wander down your body, squeezing your ass, sliding down the backs of your thighs, guiding your knees apart until you’re straddling him. You feel the rumble of another groan against your mouth when he realises you aren’t wearing panties and immediately grinds your soaked core against him.

 “Awe sweetheart, did hearing my dream make you all needy? You gonna let me fix that?” 

You nuzzle his neck, humming your assent and trailing open mouthed kisses along his jaw. He sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, ruffling his light hair. You let yourself stare and trace the familiar lines on his body. Grayson Hawthorne. Your Gray. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close to him. Though you memorised every inch of him, the curve of his shoulders and feel of his flushed skin against you, your sleep-addled brain needs to make sure he’s real. 

  “Now that you have me you can’t decide what you want.”Grayson gently lifts your chin with his finger, “How about you sit on my face, Dove? I need to feel you gushing all over me, taste you for real. Please.”

Your mouth collides with his, pushing him down on the mattress, hungerly silencing whatever filthy words were about to follow. He could make you come by his words alone. Pulling away and smirking at his lust blown eyes, you shuffle up his body, resting your hands on the headboard. Impatiently, Grayson hooks his arms around your thighs, tugging you down to him. Moaning at how tightly he presses you against his face, tongue slowly moving against your folds. Gray’s groans send sparks up your spine, arousal pooling against his mouth. He circles your clit with his tongue, the lightest touch making you writhe against his hold, it’s somehow too much and not enough. Grayson has an iron grip on your thighs, firmly keeping me seated when he seals his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. 

“Grayson,” you wail, nearly doubling over, your hands tangled in his hair. Tears pricking at your eyes at the tightening in your abdomen, moans falling from your lips. His name catches in your throat, white overtaking your vision. Grayson’s tongue teases your entrance, thumbs stroking your oversensitive bundle of nerves, as you fall apart above him.

“Taste better than you did in my dream, Dove,” Grayson murmurs against you. 

One isn’t enough for him. Grayson lazily drags his tongue along your slit, flicking your clit every time. You gasp, shuddering thighs clamping around his head. Vibrations from his groans send fire up your spine. Combined with his merciless tongue, you’re falling apart all over again, nearly going limp. Grayson manhandles your pleasure wracked body until you’re resting your head on his chest, unconsciously rubbing your overstimulated cunt against his bulge. 

“Fuck, I need you Gray,” you whine.

He chuckles at just how needy you’ve gotten, helping you clumsily take his pants off. Then he’s stretched above you, rubbing his cock through your folds. You watch as his leaking cockhead slides through your arousal, bumping your clit each time. 

Grayson pulls your hair back, forcing you to look at him, “you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I shove my cock into you.”

His eyes nearly black with lust hold yours as he pushes into you, groaning loudly, “fuck I missed this pussy.” 

Grayson rests his forehead against yours, grinding his hips slowly against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, whining and pulling him tighter against you. Grayson continues the torturously slow rolling, barely pulling out before hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over. He bites and sucks along your neck leaving deep purple marks, pulling more broken moans from you. Grayson groans when your nails dig into his back, shallow scratches decorating his shoulder blades. 

“Love being inside you,” he pants into your ear, “never wanna leave.” 

You let out a long wail when his hand finds your clit, rubbing tight circles. 

“That’s it, Dove. One more.” he punctuates his words with several hard thrusts, punching the air from your lungs. 

“Grayson,” your words breathy, “Grayson, ff-fuck Grayson please. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

White overtakes your vision once more as you come, scream caught in your throat, clenching hard around Grayson’s dick. Grayson bites your shoulder, silencing the moans of his own release. He continues rutting into you, whining. He rolls to his back, pulling you with him to rest on his chest, fingers trailing down your spine. You let out a small yawn, fatigue creeping back in. 

“Rest up, Dove,” Grayson whispers, “I’m not letting you leave this bed come morning.”

[wish-i-were-heather]

MASTERLIST

RULES~

I mostly write fics or headcanons for x reader (fem!reader because I'm a girl so that's what I'm comfortable with) but I'll write for most canon ships too, for any of the fandoms I'm in. I won't write anything smut or nsfw. If you want to be added to the taglist relating to any fandom/specific character, let me know!!

requests are currently OPEN/closed (but im busy with school so it may take me a while)

THE INHERITENCE GAMES~

GRAYSON HAWTHORNE JAMESON HAWTHORNE NASH HAWTHORNE XANDER HAWTHORNE ROHAN

THE CRUEL PRINCE~

CARDAN GREENBRIAR

SHATTER ME~

AARON WARNER KENJI KISHIMOTO

[reminiscentreader]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the inheritance games -

Grayson hawthorne

Flowers for me?

Outdoor pool

Jameson hawthorne

This love is ours

Shatter me -

Aaron warner

Aaron Warner hcs

The naturals -

Lia x Micheal

Just let me help.

Rules. - I don’t use y/n, I don’t write smut (but I write making out e.g), please be conscious that I might take a while to write your request, but I will get to it.