#jameson hawthorne x you

[f4iry-bell]

kissy face (literally)

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

type: blurb, fluff.

tagging: @clarissaweasley-10 @whatsamongus @emelia07 @sheisntyou (lmk if you want to be in jameson taglist or any other taglist)

warning: lowercase (intended)

a/n: 🤭i want him.

masterlist

you and jameson decided it is a good idea to hangout with his brothers and their girlfriends since it has been so long since all of you were together. jameson already got ready before you and waited on the bed while you were doing your makeup. you removed your previous makeup look because you thought it was too much for a drive and just applied red lipstick that suited your undertone perfectly.

once you were done applying you walked to the bed. “im ready. sorry it took some time.” you apologised.

“no worries. i don't mind, you can take another hour even, and id happily watch you get ready. it's so satisfying to watch you get ready, you know?” he said which made you smile ear to ear.

“aw, aren't you too sweet?” you sat next to him and kissed his cheeks forgetting the fact that your lipstick is not transfer proof.  “oh, im sorry. ill grab a tissue.” you were about about get up but jameson grabbed your hand.

“why?” he asked.

“um lipstick stain.” you pointed and you blushed at the sight of your boyfriend's cheeks with your lipstick mark.

“you like it, don't you?” he asked with a smirk.

“it's cute.” you scrunch your nose.

“well my other cheek feels lonely now.” he asked something without actually asking. 

you knew what to do and kissed his right cheek leaving a stain there as well. but you didn't just stop there, you kissed his forehead and right below his left eye, right eye, chin and just all over his face.

jameson is a very confident and sometimes cocky person, but right now he was a blushing mess with your hand on his neck kissing face all over and then to his neck leaving faded lipstick stains.

he was about to pull you onto his lap to make out but you both were interrupted by xander who doesn't know when to knock.

“woah, what did I just walk into?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“privacy?” jameson said.

“gray is getting annoyed, be down before he starts seeing red.” 

“I'll grab the wet tissues.” you said after xander left.

“or i could just spend the rest of the day with my girlfriend’s kisses all over my face and neck.” he smiled.

“you're not going to do that, are you?” you asked with widened eyes.

“i would, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. but you don't want me to, do you?”

“no. this look, only i can see it.”

[inmyheaddd]

play stupid games, win stupid prizes - jameson hawthorne x reader

a/n: this feels different from my usual writing style, idk if i like itt, lmk what u guys think! warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes??, possibly ooc jameson (his fboy era), popular reader x popular jameson wc: 1k masterlist

you couldn’t have been more reckless. really. jameson hawthorne? out of all the people?

it was supposed to be a one time thing, a stupid 7 minutes in heaven dare at a stupid party, his stupid friend who gave him your number, and his stupid decision to text you after the party. and your stupid decision to text him back.

—

lunch break finally came. you were sitting in the cafeteria as your friend swirled her iced coffee, “girl, how’d you get jameson hawthorne to literally be thirsting over you?”

you giggled and looked at him briefly, he was sitting a few tables over, but you could see the way his eyes were fixed on you. 

you shrugged as you turned your attention back at your friends. “guys, it’s not even that big of a deal, we’re barely even together.” the smile on your face said otherwise, one of your friends raised her eyebrows at you.

“i promise! besides, he’s the king of “casual,” and “mixed signals,” you know? i shouldn’t get my hopes up.” 

“i mean, this whole thing has been going on for 2 months now, things with him usually last a week. he’s definitely feeling something.”

“stop!” you exclaimed with a laugh, “you’re actually going to get my hopes up. don’t do that!” you snuck a glance over to his table, and he was talking to his friends.  

like he could sense your gaze, he looked at you, offering you a wink with his signature smile. you smiled back and looked back at your friends, only to find them all looking at you with the same expectant, knowing look on their face. 

“what?” your voice pitched higher, you felt like you were in court.

“you look so in love, it kind of sickens me.” your best friend piped up. 

“i’m not in love.” you shot back. a little crush was way different.

—

it was the end of the school day, jameson found you after class and walked to the car park with you. “i saw you at lunch today,” he glanced at you before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, steering you both to his car. 

“yeah? i saw you too.” you tried to bite back a smile as you glanced up at him. 

he hummed, “you seemed excited, what were you talking about?” the teasing tone in his voice was as clear as day.

“not you,” you replied, rolling your eyes at his cheshire cat smile, and when it only widened at your reaction, you continued. “i can assure you.”

he chuckled, “yeah well, some of your friends can be very loud. i wouldn’t be too sure.” 

you pursed your lips, “hmm, i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you shook your head, trying to change the subject before your cheeks could heat up any more. “where is your car anyway?” 

“relax, princess. i know where i’m going.” he chuckled, before finally arriving at his car. 

it was new, you realized. bright red, convertible, lamborghini, and the license plate was different. 

it wasn’t his usual “WRECK2002”, and after looking for another second, you noticed something.

“are those our initials?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of jameson picking it out. it was cute in a way. 

“yes, they are. you like it?” his hand traveled up and down your back as he watched your reaction.

you hummed, “it’s alright, i guess.” you said smiling at him, knowing fully well you were obsessed.  

his grin widened as he cocked his head to the side. “guess i’ll have to do better next time, then.” he replied with another wink, before he opened the passenger seat door for you. 

“guess so,” you said, not tearing away from his gaze once as you got in. 

he closed your door for you, and then began to lean over the window. 

his lips hovered over yours, teasingly close, making your breath hitch. your eyes flickered down to his lips.

but then he pulled back, moving a strand of hair out of your face and giving you a grin. you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped your lips, and he he chuckled at that. douchebag.

—

he got into the drivers seat and started the car, one hand on the wheel as he leaned back in his chair. 

you tried to ignore the way his adam’s apple was on full view, the way his jawline looked so sharp, you really did, but it was damn near impossible. 

“where to, princess?” 

“my house, obviously. where else?” you replied with a hint of sarcasm.

he shot you a look, one corner of his mouth lifting. “and here i thought you’d want to take a detour. maybe show you a few of my favorite spots?”

“and what might those be?” you asked, playing along, even though you already knew where this was going.

“let’s see…” he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pretending to think. “well, there’s this one place, it’s called my bedroom.”

you rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re nothing if not predictable, jameson.”

“predictable?” he repeated, feigning offense. “i’ll have you know, i’m full of surprises.”

“oh really?” you asked, leaning back in your seat, watching as he drove with one hand casually draped over the wheel, the other resting dangerously near your leg. “surprise me then.”

he glanced at you with an amused look on his face briefly, before turning his gaze to the road. you couldn’t miss the mischievous glint in his eyes and his turned up lips. “you should be careful what you wish for.”

—

he pulled up to your house, and before you could move, he was already opening your door, standing so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

his eyes flickered to your lips, and your hands found their way to his chest. just as he was about to break the space, you took a step back, on your tiptoes reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

after muttering a small, “thanks for the ride,” and walking off, smiling to yourself in achievement, jameson let out a scoff of amusement, maybe even disbelief.

just as you got to the door, you turned around, giving him a little finger wave.

jameson was still standing there, dare you say even gobsmacked. his head was tilted to the side, and his eyes were narrowed ever so slightly. he had a challenging grin on as his face as he waved back, sending you a chin nod.

—

as you lay in bed, facetiming your friend and giggling nonstop about what happened, a thought crept in. whatever this was with jameson, you silently hoped it wouldn’t end up like everything else with him usually did —wrecked.

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

@whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @sheisntyou @maybxlle

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @emelia07 (if you would like to be added or removed lmk 🤍)

[whousestypewriters]

i don't even know your name - jameson hawthorne x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing + like running away from the police

a/n: hehe my first tig fic! and my first on this account. i had this little idea at exactly 12:26am in the middle of revamping this blog and wanted to write it i shouldve gone to bed, so sorry if this is crap - sleep deprivation is reallll. its also unedited-

part two: you again??

ok so technically you did steal a car.

but come on, the seven police cars driving after you is just a little bit excessive. especially since its not even a decent car... from a junkyard - which to be honest you're still surprised it even started. no even cares about the damn thing except for you and the junkyard owner who apparently has a vendetta against you.

you've met the guy twice, he's a stinky old man who spends most of his days wasted and drunk. and he's never once paid attention to you sneaking in and out basically living in the car you've just stolen. sorry, borrowed.

the red and blue flashing lights bring you back to your current situation and you wince when you shift gears and swing almost violently around the corner into oncoming traffic. swerving around the honking cars and bright lights you manage to merge back into the right lanes and push forward trying to put distance between you and the cops.

you slip through the cars not even caring about the other people at this point. you just need this car. getting a job these days is harder then it seems and you'd just been offered a job with really good pay and the only requirement was you needed your own car to get to and from work.

so seeing as you're an eighteen year old homeless girl with little to no money, temporarily borrowing this car seemed like a really good idea - until it wasn't of course.

pulling over on the side of the road you decide to abandon the car and try to get away on foot - you can always catch the bus right? following the flow of the crowd you swirl your way through checking over your shoulder every few seconds, not even noticing the fact that you've gone up steps and entered a large line until the security guard calls out to you.

"hey kid! ticket?" swinging around you look up to the stern guard.

"pardon?"

"where's your ticket?"

"oh..." you trail off and the guard steps forward.

"miss, do you have a ticket?"

"....no?"

stepping forward the guard starts to reach for his gun. "miss i'm going to need to ask you to leave."

looking behind you, you try and work out your best escape route from the now approaching police men and the menacing guard at your back.

"uh yeah i'm leaving now," you say swinging around and slipping under the guard and bolting through the doors.

you enter probably the grandest entry room ever. its like straight out of a movie with the grand staircases and people in elegant clothing, unfortunately you don't get much time to admire everything with security and police on your ass.

pushing past the shrieking guests aside you run through the crowd to the next room, straight into the middle of... a dinner party.

great.

this is just great.

"GET HER!" the one of the policemen yells from behind you. you take off again rushing past women in fancy dresses and men in tuxes trying your very best not to step on any of their outfits - because hey, you may be homeless dressed like a middle aged man, but damnit you can appreciate a good outfit.

running into a hallway you panic slightly, choosing a random door and slamming it shut. trying to get ahold of your breath you close your eyes and rest your head against the door, taking deep breaths.

a throat clears from behind you and you practically jump out of your skin.

"hello."

"holy shit! doesn't anybody knock these days??" you shriek.

you look around the office trying to find the owner of the voice but to no avail. the office seemed plain enough a large plush chair behind a mahogany desk with sofas and book shelves adorning the sides of the wall.

"hello?" you look around the office again, bending down to check under the desk.

"look up," the voice comes again.

looking up you see the shadow of a boy sitting on the overhanging ledge of the bookshelf.

"who are you?" you ask eyeing the door and wondering if you still have enough time to get away before the police arrive.

"i think we should really be focusing more on you." the boy's voice vibrates through the room. he leans forward to the point of almost falling off the edge but somehow still staying on.

"i'm not important," you say, then motion up to him. "you'll fall."

"i can assure you i won't." for a moment the boy just lingers there before launching himself off the bookshelf and landing on the floor in front of you. "and besides you've piqued my interest." he strolls over to the desk and casually leans against it as if he wasn't a freaking godlike person.

seriously that bookshelf had to be at least three and a half meters tall!

the boy - now that you can see him better - is also godlike in his looks. its devastating how handsome he is. he's around your age with soft brown hair that seemed to be styled when the night began and had fallen across his forehead and his eyes. his eyes were like emeralds sparkling in the moonlight. suddenly you're favourite colour is green.

"now tell me again, who are you?" he grins - its an awful grin, the type that makes you want to die because its so beautiful.

swallowing the lump that formed in your throat you push the words out. "as i said, that's not important. what is important is that you forget you ever saw me."

the boy raises an eyebrow flashing another grin. "i'm afraid i can't do that."

"why?"

"because you are quiet unforgettable."

you freeze for a moment, then roll your eyes. "is that what you tell every girl who barges into a room to hide?"

"ahh so you're hiding?"

clenching your jaw at that slight bit of information you let slip, you nod.

"from?"

"who do you think jackass? i'm dressed like a 1950's street urchin and just crashed probably the most fancy dinner party i'll ever see, so really, who do you think i'm hiding from? fucking peppa pig?"

a loud bang comes from down the hall and you swing around wishing you had ran instead of talking to the mystery boy.

"come here." his voice snaps you out of your panic.

"what?"

"come here, you don't want to be caught? get over here."

narrowing your eyes at him you move closer to him. "what are you gonna do?"

he stares at you for a moment. "can i touch you?"

"WHAT?"

"not like that, god. that's where your mind went? no. i was just being respectful before i kissed you."

that you pause at. "you're going to kiss me?"

"well, with your permission of course."

"you don't have it."

the boy pouts playfully. "why not?"

"because believe it or not, crashing dinner parties and kissing random strangers who's names i don't know isn't something i do on a regular basis."

"well if you don't want to get caught...." he trails off.

"ew so what if i kiss you, you won't give me up? you think you're that good do you?"

"sweetheart, i am that good."

"not helping your case."

"if i kiss you it hides your face, none of them would ever try and cross me," the boy offers grinning again - does he ever stop smiling? seriously its harmful to look at someone this good looking for this amount of time.

"cause you're just that good right?"

"you're a quick learner."

the commotion from outside comes closer and you tense up weighing your options. goddamnit you're gonna have to kiss him.

"fine you have my permission," you huff. "just don't rat me out."

"i would never."

the police must have reached your door because they knock twice asking if someone is inside that they come out now.

"fucking hell," you mutter. "i cannot believe i'm doing this. i don't even know your name."

"don't worry you're in good hands," the boy says his voice low. he wraps his arms around your waist looking at you to make sure its okay.

"if you don't come out now we're coming in!" the voice from outside yells banging against the door twice more.

"by the way, the names jameson," the boy says before he seals his lips to yours and the door is ripped open with men pouring in.

but you hardly notice it. the boy's - jameson as he called himself - lips are warm as the press into yours. its soft but searing sending tingles through your brain. every thought or protest you had fell out of your head and your hands shoot up into his hair as he tightens is own arms around you.

you're so lost in the kiss you don't even hear the men behind you clearing their throats awkwardly.

pulling away jameson looks at you for a moment seemingly just as stunned as you are before he pulls your head to his chest and rests a hand on the back of your hair keeping your face hidden.

"yes?"

"have you seen a girl; brunette, around your age, wearing a black cocktail dress run through here or past here?" one of the officers asks avoiding eye contact.

"what did you say she was wearing again?" jameson asks.

"a black cocktail dress." these are like the worst policemen ever.

"well... yes-" you tense, this is it. this is where he rats you out, motherfuc-"but she went down the hall and through to the ballroom probably hiding in the crowd."

nodding each of the policemen leave the room and storm their way down the hallway. "uh sorry about interrupting you two as well," the last one says on his way out.

when its safe you pull back from jameson and thank him.

"its not over yet," he grins - seriously who decided he should be this handsome? and takes your hand leading you out the room and down the hallway. "follow me."

you slip out through the now empty entryway and run down the stairs together. this feels suspiciously like a romance novel. when you reach the steps you pull jameson to a stop. "wait don't you have to go to this dinner thing?"

"if it means not spending time with you, i'm okay with missing it," he winks.

"nope, you're not trying to flirt your way into being an outlaw with me," you tease.

"it was worth a shot."

smiling up at the boy who let you go free tonight you reach up on your tip toes and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "i'll be seeing ya jameson."

you slip out into the night leaving jameson on the steps. leaving behind the dangerous feeling that you could lose your heart to that boy.

at least you won't see him again.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: i hope you liked it!!

[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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[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: one bed

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re stuck with the cockiest man of all time and you need a place to stay… but things aren’t exactly idealistic

warnings: Jameson being a shameless flirt, you have to pretend you hate jameson… very difficult I KNOW

a/n: enemies to lovers?? Yes. One bed trope?? Yes. Jameson Hawthorne being outrageously hot for no good reason?? Absolutely.

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle love you guys 🤍🤍

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as the door swings open.

The room itself was okay, clean, tidy, welcoming but there was one giant problem situated in the middle. There was only one bed.

“I don’t think anyone is kidding this time, princess,” Jameson grins, looking far too happy with himself for your liking.

“Don’t call me that,” I scowl.

“Okay,” he smirks, “…princess.”

I want to punch that those pathetic upturned corners of his mouth to Mars but I restrain myself… for now.

“You’re on the floor,” I snap, cocking my head to where he would be sleeping. I was not about to share a bed with him, absolutely not. It was bad enough that I had to spend three days with the guy, I wasn’t about to jeopardise my sleep for him too.

“No I am not,” he yells, looking offended that I’d even suggested it,

“Be a gentleman,” I say mockingly, “sleep on the floor.”

“I’d rather die,” Jameson says flatly, his disgust evident.

“I will find a knife and make it happen,” I hiss, hoping he realises I might actually go through this threat.

His eyes brow fly to his forehead and his eyes widen, “what?”

“What?” I say quickly.

He shakes his head folds his arms and turns to me with a cocky smile, “I’m sleeping in the bed whether you like it or not.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” I reply, kicking his shin, hard.

He lets out a string of colourful words as he crumples to the floor holding his leg. Next time, I make myself a mental note that, I should aim for the groin.

“You are one piece of work,” he winced, standing up again, towering over me, “but you’re my piece of work, so it makes all of this worth it.”

“Your piece of work?” I scoff.

“Oh so you like being mine?” he quips, a grin safely situated on his eager lips.

“Possessiveness makes a man ugly,” I say flatly and bluntly, hoping he might shut his ever moving mouth for just a moment.

“So you thought I was pretty before?” Jameson asks, though it seems to be more of an assumption than a question.

“Shut your mouth,” I snap, viciousness rolling from the tip of tongue, the odd bitter taste still left in my mouth even after it’s closed.

“Can you shut it for me?” he pouts, mockingly, lolling his head to the side, “with a kiss perhaps?”

“In your wildest wet dreams Hawthorne,” I deadpan, my face robbed of all expression.

Silence. Never was there more bliss than this moment of absolute silen-

“I think you want to kiss me.”

His voice is like a never ending ringing in my ears, torturing me to the grave. Leave it to Jameson Hawthorne to ruin the mere seconds of peace I was beginning to enjoy. And his audacity made me want to run through a wall head first. Me? Want to kiss him? Well wouldn’t he be lucky.

“You have fun with that thought,” I sigh, beginning to walk away.

“No really, that’s why you’re so uptight all the time,” he says casually.

Done. I am done with this guy.

“Uptight!” I yell, “uptight! I’m uptight because I’m being forced to spend three days with the most insufferable person on this earth and now I have to share a bed you as well!”

“Breathe princess,” he replies calmly to get under my skin, “the world’s not ending.”

“No,” I laugh bitterly, “the world is not ending but I think I’d much rather face Armageddon than a night with you.”

“Oh c’mmon princess,” he shrugs, “it’s only a night, surely I’m not that bad.”

“You are, undoubtably, you are,” I grit through my teeth, “I’m asking to switch.”

“This is the only room left in this whole place,” he points out.

I knew he was right. I’d been there when the damn owner of the place had given us the last room key and had told us there would be no way to change the room if it was unsatisfactory as there were no more rooms to give. I didn’t think it’d be a problem…until now that is.

“I’d rather sleep outside,” I state.

“Then go, be my guest,” Jameson says, “I’m not the one making a fuss thought now I think I should be.”

I ignore his comment, “Aren’t you rich? Can’t you just pay them?”

“Are you asking me, a man of honourable intention, to bribe innocent people,” he gasps melodramatically, batting his eyelashes.

I think he thinks he’s being funny. I’m not laughing.

“Honourable is a bit too compliments to yourself in you ask me,” I snort.

“Well no one did, so that’s that one sorted,” he smiles, matter-of-factly.

“Oh would you just-“

If he hadn’t interrupted me there I would’ve spouted language that would’ve condemned me to an eternity of hell.

“It’s not that big of a deal anyway and I don’t know why you’re making it one,” he says, “we’re sleeping in a bed for a night… unless…”

“Unless what?” I ask curiously.

I didn’t like the sound of the smile creeping up in his voice. I didn’t like how confided he seemed or his natural relaxed demeanour.

“Unless you don’t want to because you’re afraid you’ll like it,” he says, biting his bottom lip slightly.

Like it? Like it? Just when I thought his head couldn’t get any further up his arse.

I bark out a laugh, “you’re mental.”

“I think I’m actually very smart,” says Mr.BigFatEgo.

“The last thing I’m scared of is liking you, I wouldn’t let my standards drop that low,” I tell him.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night princess, though tonight it might be me that helps you sleep better,” he winks.

I wished to slap him across the face right there and then. So hard, so loud and so painfully that he wouldn’t be able to sleep on that side for weeks, so it would sting for hours one end, so a red mark would stain to damned cheek I left it on. I fantasise even breaking a jaw but I chose to stand still and say nothing and just stare.

“What?” he teases, his voice changing as if he were talking to a small child, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m going for a shower,” I retort.

“Feeling saucy?” Jameson smirks.

I don’t bother to reply, too tired of his games and his stupid antics. I need a break, I need a shower and I need a second of quiet. So I turn swiftly on my heel and leave him stood there. I hope the smirk falls from his face.

***

Once the two of us had showered, we both cautiously crawled onto one side of the bed. You’d have thought there was an invisible force field keeping the two of us apart from the way we were sitting. There was no sound now. Not even background TV noise, just air thick with tension. All day I’d longed for silence and now it had finally arrived I wish more than anything for some noise.

“Are we going to sleep?” Jameson asks.

I look at him for the first time since my shower, making direct eye contact. Piercing green irises stare back at me, telling stories of many woods and forests. I’d never really looked at his eyes like this before.

“I don’t like this,” I blurt out, gesturing to the sleeping arrangement.

“Well you’re going to have to live with it aren’t you, princess?” he says, booping my nose.

“Touch my face again and I will bite you,” I threaten, my voice low and dangerous.

“Ooo feeling flirty are we? I could get down on some biting action,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows , “I look forward to it.”

“Are you proud of that one, aren’t you?” I say, my tone as blunt as my will to live at this point.

He doesn’t reply.

“That’s sad,” I hum.

“So are we sleeping or do you want to stay up all night discussing your troubles with me?” he asks turning to look at me.

“Sleeping,” I grumble, laying down with my back towards him.

“Goodnight princess,” he whispers, as he turns off the lamp.

“I hope you die in your sleep,” I murmur back.

He chuckles softly and I hear him roll over. I don’t remember anything after that.

***

When I wake up I’m immediately pissed off. It’s the morning and I still feel groggy and unrefreshed. The mattress feels a little different. I slowly open my eyes that seemed as though they’d been velcroed shut. That’s when I come to a horrible realisation.

I’m on his chest. I am laying on Jameson Hawthorne’s chest. And he has his arms around me. We are CUDDLING. I’m in the same bed, hugging a man I despise more than anyone on this planet. I want to die.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off me could you princess,” says a familiar, aggravating voice.

I scream, jumping away from him quickly. Why the hell were we positioned like that? How could that just have happened? Why did it have to happen? I curse myself for ever agreeing to sleeping in the stupid bed with that.

“Jesus woman it’s 7am, no need to bust my eardrums,” Jameson complains, caressing his ears.

In any normal circumstance is would’ve had a go at him for calling me ‘woman’ like that, but this circumstance was anything but I normal.

“What was that?” I pant, “why were you on me?”

“Actually princess, I think you’ll find it was the other way around,” he says coolly, “you were on me.”

“You did that on purpose,” I spit, my eyes pinned to him, glaring furiously.

“I most certainly did not,” he replies, his voice louder, more dominant, defensive. He looks slightly offended I would even suggest such a thing.

“Yes you did,” I tell him.

But he doesn’t care what I’m saying, his eyes are fixated on my head, “your hair is a little messed up princess,”

I groan, angry and embarrassed and all that’s in between. I comb a hand through the mass of knots, trying to tame them and failing.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he grins, cocking his head to one side.

“Piss off,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, “we were cuddling a second ago.”

“No we weren’t, that never happened,” I say quickly.

“I’m pretty sure it did,” he grins.

“Jameson Hawthorne I swear to everything on this earth if you do not shut your mouth you will be sorry,” I murmur, threat etched in every decibel of my tone.

And he shut it. He actually shut it… for about two seconds

He leans back and the corners of his mouth turn upward, he’s suspiciously amused, “I’ll make you a wager.”

“I don’t want your wager,” I snap.

“Then I won’t shut up,” he shrugs.

“What’s the wager?” I respond almost immediately. Now he knows this is going to get to me he’ll use it against me. And I can’t have that. He can’t have the power.

“Kiss me and I won’t utter a word of what happened in this room to anyone,” he whispers, “not you, not my brothers, no one… our little secret?”

“I sincerely hope you’re joking,” I force a laugh.

“Just one little kiss and it all goes away,” Jameson murmurs, his voice alluring.

“No,” I shake my head. I will not agree, I will not fall down the slippery slope, I will not allow myself to be in this position.

“Okay fine,” he shrugs, smirking, “I suppose everyone shall know about your night spent with the infamous Jameson Hawthorne. Hey, it might make national news-“

I cut him off, pushing my lips onto his. Hard. I close my eyes. He kisses back, intensely, hungrily, passionately. And I can’t seem to stop either. All this anger, all this hate, all this built up fury is finally being let go. I want him to taste my hatred for him, I want him to feel my loathing, to ache when he gets a touch of my aggravation. He doesn’t to hold back and neither do I. His hands are snaking around my waist and mine are buried deep in his hair. I know I need to take a breath but my brain has somehow stopped functioning and all it wants is his lips pressed against my own. I can feel his hands making their way up my back, his touch more tentative than I’d ever imagined. Mine travel down to his next, where I cling to him, my nails digging into the delicate skin. Does he feel the pain? Does he care? If he does he doesn’t show it. His hands are now in my hair, tugging and ripping at every strand. But I don’t care. Because I know that this is his hate for me that I’m feeling and it’s giving me this buzz. This buzz of electrical passion and I don’t know why. He’s so rough with me and yet so gentle. The movement is so powerful and yet when we collide he treats my being like it’s a glass ballerina. Like I might break into a million shards and shatter onto the ground. And suddenly I’m pushing him away, my hands act on their own instinct. We both stand there, the only sound is our panting breaths, as we lock eyes.

“I upheld my end of the bargain, now you uphold yours,” I breathe heavily, my chest heaving up and down.

“You have my word,” Jameson whispers, smiling as he brings a soft and gentle finger to your lips.

a/n: I actually had the most fun writing this and I’m a actually quite proud of it… so hope you guys enjoyed as well. As always, requests are open and let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list :) thanks for reading 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[wildesqdreams]

strip bowling

pairing - jameson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - y/n and jameson finally spend time together by playing one of jameson's favorite games.

warnings - maybe spoilers from the book "inheritance games" ??? making out + shirtless people.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: i promise that a grayson hawthorne x reader fic will be coming after this. but enjoy this one for now ;)

y/n sat on jameson's bed, leaning against the headboard, as she read a book.

since avery's arrival, she found herself more often spending time in different rooms, reading or writing, and she couldn't help but notice, that every time she was almost alone.

alone. a funny, but hurtful feeling.

the girl wasn't the jealous type, and she didn't have anything against the mystery girl. but she did feel a sharp pain in her heart, every time she saw jameson leaving. because she knew that he was going to her. to meet avery.

every.

single.

time.

her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, and the brown-haired boy walked in. he immediately went to lay down beside the girl, and snuggled into her - his hand around her waist, pulling her closer, and his head in the crook of her neck.

"what's up?" y/n's hand found jameson's hair, and she started to run her fingers through it.

"alisa had other plans for heiress, so we had to cancel our plans, and so the investigation will continue tomorrow."

a small 'hmm" was the only thing that the girl could reply with.

jameson had nicknames for everyone. but still, the sinking feeling in her stomach from hearing about avery couldn't leave her. not to mention how stupid she started to feel, that now when he's bored, he will waste some time with her because heiress has other plans.

she felt a light kiss be placed on ber neck, "don't think that."

"what?"

y/n y/l/n hated the fact that jameson hawthorne could understand what she was thinking and feeling. he was a game player - puzzles and riddles, to solve, were easy for him. and like a game, the girl, was easy to read for him, too.

he trailed soft kisses up her neck, towards her jaw, "you know what," he pulled back, as he gazed into her eyes, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're my girl. my favorite girl. so, please, stop the thoughts infecting your gorgeous brain."

a small smile appeared on her face, as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to her lips, "how about this," he got up and grabbed y/n's hands, as he pulled her up, "if you guess the number i'm thinking, we'll do whatever you want... if you don't," he smirked, "i'll choose."

"hey," y/n stated with a smile, as she saw jameson grab a marker and a piece of paper, "i'm not good at this, like, at all."

"well, good for me," he caught her still watching him, "hey, no, cheating," jameson put a hand over her eyes. the girl rolled her eyes and smacked his hand away.

when jameson was done writing the number down, he hid it behind him and looked at y/n with a big smile, "i'll make it easier for you, love. the number is between 1 and 10," he glanced at her lips and then back to her eyes, "now the only question is, what is the number?"'

y/n y/l/n already knew she would lose. she hadn't grown up as the hawthorne brothers had. her grandfather didn't make her do puzzles and riddles or solve mysteries. but she took the time to think. and it was indeed hard when beautiful green eyes were gazing at her.

"seven."

"sorry, to be the one to say this," and the girl already knew, "but you have lost," jameson showed her the paper, "the right answer was three," his pretty big smile was annoying, "i guess the winner, once again, is me."

"yeah, yeah... so riddle boy, what will we be doing?"

a wicked smirk replaced the victory smile on the boy's face, "strip bowling."

"are you doing this on purpose!?" y/n frustratedly sighed as she saw the bowling ball once again land in the gutter.

since they had started playing, jameson has been poking her or pressing kisses on her neck and even whispering things in her ear, making her lose.

the boy smiled at the girl, who looked at him, "what me? and cheating? of course not, don't be funny, love," he walked towards her and grabbed the bottom of her shirt, "but you should take this off now."

"idiot," y/n murmured, as she took of her top that revealed her black bra.

the hawthorne boy pressed a kiss to her shoulder, "it's your turn," the girl said.

jameson just hummed as he continued to lay soft kisses on her skin, his hand pulling her closer by the waist, "later," he trailed his kisses towards her ear.

"but james-"

"god, woman," he sarcastically sighed, which made y/n let out a small giggle. he pulled back with a smile, looking in her eyes, "just let me love my girl."

"yeah, yeah," y/n stated and wrapped her arms around his neck, as she pulled him into a kiss.

and like that, the world disappeared. just them. no one else.

she sighed when she felt him pull her closer, her chest to his bare one. while her hand lightly tugged at his hair, his soft lips moved to her jaw, "i love you," he said in between the kisses, "never forget that."

missing his taste she turned her head and pulled him back into the kiss. his hands slowly started to go down from her waist to the back of her thighs, so he could lift her, but before he could do that, the door shot open.

"JAMESON DID YOU EAT THE LAST BLUEB- oh," xander stopped when he saw the scene in front of him.

y/n smiled, when she heard jameson groan, as he pulled back from the kiss, moving his hands away from her legs.

"you horny bastards should find a room... a private one."

"Alexander-"

"just saying," and with that the youngest hawthorne brother left the room, closing the room.

"so," the girl smiled, as she grabbed a bowling ball and handed it to her boyfriend, "it's your turn."

jameson groaned even louder, as he took the ball.

[graysdarling]

✦ DAD!JAMIE HEADCANONS ˎˊ˗

- pairing: dad!jameson hawthorne x mom!reader

- summery: headcanons about dad jamie <3

- warnings: fluff, domestic life, married reader, literal babies, baby problems, family life, both dad jamie because i cant see him with only a boy but i also cant see him with only a girl

- words: tbr

- belle speaks: requested by an anon here! SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE IVE BEEN BUSY LATELY WITH MY BIRTHDAY COMING SOON😿 GRAHHGG

- tags: @sophiesonlinediary @urbanflorals @tornqdowarnings (click here to be added to my taglist! <3)

✰ he’d totally be the type of dad to try to purposely try to embarrass his kids. whether it be teasing them about their crushes, or telling embarrassing stories about them to their friends.

✰ he lowkey will try to cause chaos with his kids. not enough to annoy you persa, but just enough to make you and the kids laugh.

✰ oh you KNOW he’d be spending money all on his kids. of course he only knows a bit about clothes so you’ll have to come along to help.

✰ he’d make a gmail account for them and make little riddles for them that get harder whenever they grow up.

✰ he’ll be the fun chill dad that everybody loves but he might be a bit overprotective at times like whenever his daughter gets a date.

✰ he’d totally be the type of dad to try to purposely try to embarrass his kids. whether it be teasing them about their crushes, or telling embarrassing stories about them to their friends.

✰ totally will get mad if one of your kids gets into a fight but the second you’re gone he’d be all like “who won?” and “did you beat them up?”

✰ when they were born, he’d just hold their little hands and stare at them. he’d also cry a bit too.

✰ you’ll DEFINITELY be naming them. either it was because of a dare that jameson had to name his future child lighting mcqueen or he’d just wanted to for fun. though those will probably be small nicknames for them soon (much to your demise)

✰ if they’re into sports, he’d definitely go to their games and scream his head off. you’d have to practically smack your hand over his mouth to shut him up lol

✰ he wouldn’t be worried that he’ll be a bad father but he’ll sometimes wonder if he’s doing the right thing or not. he won't really dwindle on it but he’ll ask that to you before bed.

“hey, do you think i’m a good father?” “of course, jamie, why?” “just wondering.”

✰ totally will play dress up with his daughter. he’ll be INTO the act too, whether he was the knight, prince, or princess, he’d act it for her. you and his son would just be trying so hard not to laugh.

✰ lowkey will make them watch pixar, disney, all those movies. he’ll totally make sure they’re watching cars too. (his son realized why he always called him lighting then)

[blaaaaa3451]

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne...

My Boy’s so pretty :)

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne is the type to draw circles on your waist and whisper sweet Nothings in your ear when you're nervous, the type to make sure you walk on the sidewalk away from the road, the type to keep you from the camera view, or help cook dinner when you're tired. Jameson Winchester Hawthorne would whine at you pulling away from his touch, this boy is cuddly, let him love you. Hold you, one finger Lazily dragging against the dip of your hips as you two sleep <3

[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

[morganwrites12672]

can you please write smth cute and fluffy for jameson hawthorne (romantic) i just finished the inheritance games series and it’s safe to say i’m obsessed. there’s literally no content for him it hurts 😭

Jameson Hawthorne x Reader

Summary: Just some fluff with Jameson!

Warnings/Tags: Jameson Hawthorne x reader (romantically), established relationship, fluff, Grayson Hawthorne x reader (platonic), minor cursing

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Jameson was snuggled into your side. He refused to get up. I'm his defense, it was only 11am. And his Hawthorne insomnia had taken the night off.

"Babe, we have to get up. You have 39 missed calls," you say and set his phone back down. All of the missed calls were from his brothers.

"How about no," Jameson grumbled into your neck. You smile at his attempts.

You sigh and give in. For now. Jameson could rest for a few more minutes. But the both of you had responsibilities today.

You heard his phone begin to ring and answered it before Jameson could protest.

"Hello?" You asked. resting the phone against your ear.

"Where the hell are you?" The voice yelled back at you. It was Grayson. Of course it was.

"LEAVE US ALONE," Jameson yelled. You winced from the noise and Jameson took the phone so he could yell at his brother.

They argued for a few minutes before Jameson hung up.

"Dick," he murmured before snuggling back into your neck. He was still laying on your chest. There was no way he was planning on getting up.

"What did you do?" You ask. Everyone knew you and Jameson were (most likely) safe, they would only be ing if he did something.

Jameson smiled, "I may or may not have forgotten to tell anyone we ran off to California," you groaned at those words.

"You did not think to tell anyone at all that we are halfway across the country," you groaned before looking down and him.

You threaded your fingers through his chestnut curls before laying your head against the pillow. Grayson knew you were both safe. That was good enough for now.

"Let's enjoy one more hour, and then we can fly back," Jameson grumbled before snuggling even deeper into your neck.

You both knew it was going to be longer then one hour. If you were lucky enough you would be back at the Hawthorne House before midnight.

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Requests are open

Please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed

I do not consent to my work being translated and/or transfered to a different site even with credit.

[midiosaamor]

❪ ✦ ❫ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

key: ⟢ fluff. | ☆ angst. | ꩜ suggestive. | ✮ coming soon. (drafted) | ༄ coming soon. (not drafted)

DRABBLES .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

⟢ cuddles.

FANFICS .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

none here yet!

[f4iry-bell]

ok we know how in love jameson is for avery, so can we have a jameson x reader where hes just yearning for her. I just want some man praising women fics

pairing: lovesick!jameson hawthorne x reader

taglist: @clarissaweasley-10 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou @emelia07 @elysianwayy77 @cassie6392

a/n: 3/6 requests done. im sorry I'm taking too long to write ;( i hope you like this anon<3

masterlist | 300 event masterlist

Jameson could swear that he almost swooned at the sight of her. She was getting ready in front of the tall mirror wearing an elegant long dress with the zipper open. She was adjusting the front without looking in the mirror so she didn't notice him walking in.

“Need help with the back?” He asked, stepping closer to her.

“Of course.”

He placed a soft kiss on her back before zipping the dress, once she was done adjusting the dress Jameson took her right hand and spun her around making her giggle.

“Don't laugh, had to see it 360” he smiled softly as he pulled her by her hand close to him, her hands resting on his chest as his hand rested on her waist.

“You picked this dress. So you know how it is already, no need for that extra spins.”

“Yeah. I did pick it for you, and did imagine you but this is so much better than my imagination. I could die by the look of you.” He kissed her cheeks after saying that.

She chuckled. “Die? Don't you think you're exaggerating it?”

“You and I both know I do not exaggerate when it comes to you. You just…are so extraordinary and unbelievable. It's really hard to believe that you are my girlfriend, you know?” He kept going on and on about his praise.

“Thank God you're not a poet or your readers would be tired of you overusing hyperboles.” She said.

“Hyperboles? Nah. I'm a realist, I would probably write what I see and hear. And you, my love, are extraordinary and unbelievable.”

“Don't you have trauma with that word?”

“When I saw you, it all healed. You're like a magic light, you know? That automatically fixes everything.”

“You're so nice to me, Jameson. I might just kiss you and more instead of going to this event.”

“I'd prefer that to be honest.” He smirked.

“I was joking.” She laughed when his face fell.

“Seriously? Don't play with me like that.”

“Okay, don't pout.”

“But you know we can stay, watch a movie, I'll cook for you, even clean too. Then we can kiss and cuddle all night while you over analyze the movie.”

“We are not skipping this event”

“Why not?”

“Because your brother is getting an award today.”

“He has multiple awards, he won't mind if we miss and have a little ‘you and i’ time.”

“Quit pouting. How about this, we go, come back and then pull an all-nighter?”

“Whatever you want, ma'am.”

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags - part 4

⤷ “but what’s the rush? kissing, then my cheeks are so flushed.”

summary: grayson drives you home, and you can tell he isn’t feeling the best, so you insist the perfect remedy - on hosting an impromptu movie night while your roommate gigi is at her new boyfriends house! a/n: this takes place immediately after end of part 3!! warnings: little tiny sad grayson flashback, kissing, (friends to lovers is finally friends to lovering) wc: 4k masterlist || series masterlist — other parts!

…previously on part three

“ finally, after an intense game of eenie meenie miney mo —suggested by gigi, noah payed. 

grayson reluctantly put his card back in his wallet, tucking it back in his pocket as noah flashed gigi a nervous smile. 

when they caught eachother’s eyes, grayson offered noah a slight nod, almost of respect. noah returned it with a smile.

you and gigi once again glanced at eachother. in both your eyes, that seemed like a success.”

—

grayson was driving you home, the roads were bustling and crowded, and the ride was taking much longer than anticipated. 

you weren’t staring— staring was a big stretch. you think taking notice, observing, perceiving, even, were all better words to describe what you were doing. 

you were simply taking note of grayson’s features. 

the way his jaw slightly clenched when someone’s bad driving annoyed him, the way his hands grip would momentarily tighten on the wheel, the way the soft dim lighting of the night interrupted by headlights passing and traffic lights coloured his face— not staring. 

flashback - 12 years old…

maybe standing outside the huge hawthorne house with no plan at all wasn’t the best choice. your parents weren’t home, the house was empty, and you were bored out of your mind, and it was only 1pm!

so, 12 year old you did what sounded like the most fun: called grayson. annoying him was maybe your favorite past time.

you went straight in, not even waiting for him to say anything when he answered. 

“hey grayson, do you wanna go hang out?”

the other end was silent for a moment. “excuse me?”

“you know, hang out?” you laughed like he’d been talking nonsense, “like, when two friends go somewhere and—“

“i know what hanging out means.” he cut you off, and you could hear the annoyance in his tone. he didn’t speak for a second, “… i suppose my schedule is free today.” 

that was his way of saying yes. you rolled your eyes jokingly even though he couldn’t see you, what kind of 12 year old has a schedule?

“okay, i’m outside.”

“what?” he breathed out, sounding more shocked than ever. “sorry,” he corrected himself, and if your ears weren’t deceiving you, he almost sounded amused. 

“what if i had said no?” he added.

you laughed softly into your phone, “well, i just knew you wouldn’t.” you said, “now hurry up, it’s freezing out here.”

you stood outside in the brisk air, and grayson came down no less than a minute later, opening the door and being met with your cold-air-flushed face. 

you beamed, “grayson! hi!” it was muscle memory for you to hug your any of friends whenever you saw them — but you quickly stopped yourself, retracting your hands back to your sides awkwardly.

he raised a single eyebrow at you, “i spoke with you less than a minutes ago.” he deadpanned. “why are you so happy to see me?” 

if it was anyone else, you would’ve felt severely judged. you suppose that was his intent, though, so you didn’t let it affect you.

“i’m not happy to see you, i’m just happy. stop trying to dull my spark, hawthorne.” you rolled your eyes as you both began to walk, the cold december air hitting you. “let me live.”

he muttered something under his breath about an “annoying glare, not a spark.”before handing you something. “take this.”

you looked down at what he was handing you, “what?” you said quietly. 

you hadn’t even noticed before, but he had brought a sweater with him. 

“you mentioned you were cold earlier,” he stated matter-of-factly. “please, take it.” 

“oh,” you said, sounding too surprised at the casual action for your own liking. 

“thanks,” warmth instantly spread over you as you put it on, and when you noticed some sort of rock band logo on it with lots of writing. 

you furrowed your brows, did grayson have a complete closet change overnight?

“it’s not mine.” he said, eyes flickering back up to yours like he could read your thoughts. “it belongs to one of my brothers.”

“you wouldn’t want to spoil one of your precious hoodies on me?” you remarked sarcastically.

“i don’t own any hoodies.” 

oh. 

“wait,” you stopped in your tracks when you let that sink in, “not even a single one?” 

he just blinked at you, “no.” 

“why?” 

“it’s not my preferred style.” he said like it was clear. i mean, of course grayson hawthorne of all people wouldn’t own a hoodie; it was kind of clear.

“okay well, our next stop is obvious,” you said, and graysons brows knit. “the mall! we need to get you some hoodies.”

based on the look on his face, you don’t think he liked that idea…

but he went anyway. 

present…

you stopped infront of the red light, the colour sending a reddish hue over everything in the car.

grayson’s side profile was on full view, eyes not leaving the road as he broke the comfortable silence, “i may have misjudged his character.” 

“hm?” you hummed, snapped out of the trance-like state you were in, as you looked more intently, trying to decipher at the emotion behind his eyes.

“noah.” he made himself clear, “i presumed him to be…” he trailed off, thumb running up and down the wheel methodically, “different. worse.” 

you chuckled, “me and gigi both told you he was a good person,” you pointed out, “what, you think our taste is that bad?” 

is lips turned up for a flash of a second, “no,” he said as he shook his head slightly, “that’s not what i meant to imply.” 

“oh?” you said, leaning your head back against the head rest as your eyes stayed fixed on grayson’s face. “what was your intended affect then, hawthorne?” 

his head turned, his eyes narrowing jokingly as they finally met yours for a moment, before going back on the road. there was almost a full smile on his face. 

he redirected the conversation as he steered the wheel, “he seems like a nice fit for gigi.”

“aw,” you fake cooed, bringing a heartfelt hand to your chest. “you really think so?”

in all seriousness, though. the date had actually been much better than you had anticipated. gigi’s smile didn’t leave her face once. 

you saw him side glance at you, “yes, i do.” he said, “that, however, does not mean i’m agreeing to one of these ‘double dates’ ever again.” he quickly reiterated, like he could read your next thought. 

the way he said double dates made it seem like the last 2 hours were living hell for him.

you rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath, “don’t lie. i know the word fun isn’t in your dictionary, but i know you enjoyed yourself.”

“enjoy is a very large stretch.” he deadpanned, glancing at you momentarily.

“you had the best time ever. be honest.” 

“it was bearable.” 

“okay, sure. whatever you say,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, you said, just before started you noticed the familiar turns, and before you knew it, the the car was parked infront your house. you could see the stars twinkling in the night sky through the dashboard window— stargazing was one of your favorite activities.

flashback - 12 years old…

after a semi-successful shopping trip — grayson bought 3 hoodies, a black, grey, and navy one (gosh, the variety!) — you came across one of your favorite ice cream spots as you walked back together. it was nearing 3pm now and there was, by some miracle, no one around.

the 50s theme of the this cream store always brought you a sense of comfort, even with its bright overhead lights. you smiled as you and grayson walked in and the bell on the door rang upon your entrance.

the conversation was dulling down, mostly consisting of you making dumb jokes or making fun of him, and him maybe cracking a tiny smile once every 45 minutes, if you were lucky. 

you had a cup of cookies and cream ice cream in front of you, half eaten as you took your eyes to the photo booth placed in the corner of the store. 

there were hundreds of photos stuck on the sides of it— so many faces, so many smiles, friends, families, couples. 

you didn’t know any of their stories, but simply seeing them smile made you want to smile. 

then, you took your eyes to the boy sitting in the chair in front of you: grayson. 

he was sipping on his black coffee —that you relentlessly made fun of him for picking— but, the weird thing was that he was just… staring at you. 

“what are you looking at?” you snorted, putting your spoon down in your ice cream and leaning back in the booth seat. 

he shook his head slightly, “nothing.” 

it wasn’t nothing, because then after a second, he spoke again. he put his cup down, “why’d you take us here? it’s essentially empty, and it’s the middle of winter.”

your cheeks flushed— only because of the cold air hitting you. 

you shrugged with a sheepish smile, “i don’t know…” you trailed off, but you did know. “i kind of remembered you saying you haven’t tried ice cream, and i remember thinking in that moment, “i need to get this kid to have some ice cream.” then i saw this place, and thought, why not?”

he was silent for a moment, and a thousand thoughts overflowed in your mind. 

“i said that 3 years ago.” he finally said, sounding surprised, and it was like you could see his guarded mask slowly slipping away. 

“yeah,” you said, “i know.” 

his eyes flickered between yours, and then he did one of his barely there smiles that made you want to squeal — how come he got to make you feel like that? it wasn’t fair.

“if it’s any relief to you,” he said half jokingly, “i went home that night and asked my older brother to get me ice cream.” he spoke with softness in his voice; you noticed it was always that way when he spoke about his siblings. “it wasn’t as bad as i had anticipated.” 

you smiled softly at the emotion in his voice, “yeah, well, you’re literally drinking a specially made black coffee in an ice cream shop right now,” you stated. “so… my mission has failed, sort of.” 

he narrowed his grey eyes slightly like he was in deep thought, before briefly glancing at the counter. a server sat behind it, bored and staring his phone.

he looked back at you and then stood up, heading towards the ice cream counter.

you gasped in mock amazement. truthfully though, you were actually pretty shocked. “grayson hawthorne, actually living his life a little? i can’t believe i’m witnessing this in real time. this is extraordinary.” you got up and stood beside him, looking at the ice cream flavors in front. 

he offered you a side glance. “the possibility of me leaving is still very high.”

“oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes, “the possibility of me slapping you is very high.” oh, good comeback…

he seemed surprised at that, “oh, is that so?”

your cheeks flushed, but you stayed stubborn. “yes.” you didn’t look at him, but you could basically feel that stupid half smile of his. “now pick your ice cream already.”

he picked mint chocolate chip.

as you sat back down at your tables, you went right back to teasing him. “is this you attempting to be a little different, trying something new?” you asked teasingly as you sat down, with an oreo milkshake infront of you now. “i’m surprised you didn’t pick vanilla.”

he gave you that single eyebrow arch again. “why would that be?”

“because vanillas just… vanilla. and you’re so… you.”

his brows furrowed ever so slightly, and you could tell he was trying to keep his face completely unreactive. your heart suddenly felt 50 pounds heavier in your chest. 

the next time he spoke, he hesitated. his expression actually looked like he was his age for once, not way beyond his years. 

you always wondered if that was what other people forced him to be, or if it who he really was.

or, did they start to merge into the same thing at some point? that thought made your stomach feel cold. 

“so you really think i’m,” he paused slightly as he found the words, “… boring?” 

no, not actually, you wanted to say. 

he was that one mystery you decided you wanted to uncover since the day you met him. he was funny when he wanted to be, and despite everything, he actually cared for what you had to say. 

that was why you were here right now.

“oh yeah, for sure.” you grinned, nodding vigorously as grayson’s expression changed to one that looked less sad. “you’re about as interesting as a blank piece of paper.” 

grayson seemed to have gotten the answer he was looking for. his smile slowly matched yours, “so i’ve been told.” 

his eyes twinkled a little, you raised your eyebrows in a way to say, “shocker,” as you sipped from your straw, and then he laughed.  

you joined in, your combined soft laughs being the only sound in the ice cream shop apart from the soft 50’s music, before his phone began to ring and interrupted the moment. 

“sorry,” he said quietly, a hint of a smile still in his voice. “if you’ll excuse me.” he pressed the phone to his ear and answered promptly with, “grayson.” 

you heard a loud voice from the other line, and it all you could roughly understand was:

“GRAYSON! why do you answer like that?we’ve missed you! …. xander… movie night… pillow fight … broke his arm…. where are you?”

whoever was on the other line said that and more all in the span of 30 seconds, and didn’t stop once.

grayson listened to every word intently, and his little expressions of frustration, shock, and sheer annoyance as he looked at a spot on the table, almost made you burst out laughing as you stared.

in hindsight, you probably should’ve kept yourself busy, make it any less obvious you were eavesdropping, but you couldn’t help but stare at him. 

one thing was clear, though, and it made your heart feel fuzzy: he cared very deeply for whoever was on the other line, even if he didn’t show it. 

“listen, jameson. i’m currently out, however—“

“you’re out? doing what?” you heard a laugh from the other person—his brother, jameson, —and grayson rolled his eyes. 

“nothing that concerns you.”

you couldn’t stop the snort that followed at the sight of grayson so frustrated, and his eyes immediately flickered to yours. 

“sorry,” you mouthed. 

but to your surprise, grayson wasn’t glaring at you. if anything, he was holding your gaze with a glint of humour in his eyes, and he smiled at you as he held the phone to his ear. 

you heard shuffling on the other end, and then shouts. 

“xander! go call grayson on your own phone, and stop trying to steal mine!” 

“but he blocked me after i kept yodeling in his voicemail! i need to—“ 

grayson ended the phone call just as promptly as he’d answered it. 

he sighed, rubbing his temples, then you saw him power off his phone. he took a bite of his ice cream and then met your eyes. it looked like he almost paused when he did, maybe because you had been doing nothing but stare at him for the past few minutes. you’d probably be a little weirded out too. 

“your brothers seem funny,” you commented, taking another sip of your milkshake. 

he shook his head slightly, “i believe chaotic or headache inducing would be more fitting,” he put his spoon back down, “but, i suppose funny works.” 

you laughed, “yeah, but you still love them.” you told him with your voice a little quiet, “more than anything, right?” 

he nodded, “of course i do. they’re…” he trailed off trying to find the right way to put it, but there was just no better way to put it.

“they’re my family.”

present…

grayson cut the engine and got out of his side of the door, and walked around to yours to open it for you. it was a a small gesture, but it was one that made you pause slightly.

“thank you,” you muttered to him softly, and he nodded as he closed the car door behind you. 

he walked you to the doorstep, and you both stood infront of the closed door.

“is gigi not home?” he asked, nodding his head towards the windows, and the fact that all of the lights were closed.

“yeah, she uh, she went home with noah.” you responded, pressing your lips together in a line momentarily.

grayson was really trying to be supportive, you could tell, but the way there was a slight tick in his jaw and his shoulders sense told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded once again, a slight clench in his jaw. “right.” 

you chuckled as you hit his shoulder slightly, “relax, she’s really happy, gray. he’s not an axe murderer.” 

“i know, i know that.” he said, as he combed a hair that fell into his face, back in its place with his hand.

“but?” you sensed.

“like i said before, with everything that’s happened in our lives… it’s hard to trust anyone fully.”

“it’s not that hard,” you shrugged, trying to ease the tension, because trust issues with was not a topic you wanted to delve into right now. “i trust you, and i know that you trust me. it’s easy.” 

“of course, because we know eachother. i trust you more than most.“ grayson said, but the way he said the word ‘know’ felt like there was more to it, like it went deeper than just the fact that you ‘went way back’.

“yeah,” you sighed, understanding what he was getting at— but you still had to defend gigi. “and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.”

he didn’t speak for a moment, thinking before he finally spoke. “you’re right.” he almost sighed, his neck strained like he wanted to say more. 

“… is she,” he paused, “is she truly happy?” he asked. you’d said it before, but maybe he just didn’t believe you. 

you smiled, thinking about all the sleepless nights spent with gigi of her giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, sleepover sessions - even when you lived in the same apartment - with face masks as you laughed and talked about life. she was happier than you’d ever seen her, healed from the things she wouldn’t quite tell you about.

“yeah, gray.” you said softly, “she is happy.”

he tore his eyes away from you, nodding as he looked at the floor. “that’s good, she deserves it.”

after a moment of silence standing under your door, you grinned, trying to take away that pained look on his face as you changed the subject. “you know, earlier that was the second time you’ve said i’m right today. i’m sort of on a streak.” 

the tension broke away from his face as a slow grin spread across his face. “i’ve began to think; when are you not right?” 

“pretty much never.” you put your hand on the door handle, smiling up at him.  “and another one of my perfect, right ideas, is that having a movie night will make you feel infinitely better and stop your overthinking.”

you cracked the door open further as you took a step in, and he quirked a brow up. “i have no room to say no, i assume?”

“oh please,” you scoffed, “you don’t even want to say no.” grayson walked in, and you were already making your way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

he shut the door behind him, and you couldn’t see it, but a smile stretched across his face. he shook his head and exhaled a long breath, just before you called out to him.

“i’m going to go do my skincare now, you can pick the movie this time!” 

—

you stood infront of your bathroom mirror, rubbing your cleanser in circular motions on your face. you hummed to yourself, with no particular song in mind. 

you were recalling the whole night in your head, a replay of your favorite moments, and how even the car ride back was fun. 

you wondered what gigi was doing right now, if she was feeling the same sense of happiness.

before you could dwell on that any longer, a soft knock against your bathroom door cut through your thoughts. you splashed water on your face and washed away your face wash.

“come in!”

the door opened softly, revealing grayson on the other side without his suit jacket on, white sleeves rolled up to his forearms for more comfort. 

“are you nearly done?” he asked softly, shoulders leaning against the door frame. not in a way to rush you, or with any sense of annoyance, but because he was genuinely getting bored without you there. 

“almost,” you said as you squeezed out your serum into your hands. 

then you realised you were only on the first step of your routine, ”actually…” you mumbled as you looked at your hands, “this might take a while.” 

when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was looking at you in the strangest way, in a way you’d never seen him look at you before, and let out a breath of a chuckle.

grayson was still standing oddly in the doorframe, though you doubt odd was the right word, you said. “you can um, come in, if you want.”

he walked in, the door shutting softly behind him as he stood next to you behind the sink. 

he picked up the serum you had just put down, and began to read the ingredients on the back of your skincare as you finished up. he offered a slight hum of approval. 

that must’ve been a good sign you weren’t burning your skin off.

grayson turned an unlabeled green tube to you. “what’s this?” 

you hummed, taking your eyes to the product. “oh, that’s a face mask. the label somehow just rubbed off.” you answered half-paying attention.

you took your eyes back to the mirror, before they quickly snapped back 

“wait.” you piped up. “i have an ideaaaa.”

grayson raised a brow as you turned around, “i’ve learned to not trust your ideas.” he said, almost sighing. “what is it?”

you pulled out a pink fluffy headband, one that had bunny ears. “here, wear this.”

“i am not wearing that.”

2 minutes later, grayson davenport hawthorne was wearing a pink headband, with pink eye patches underneath his stormy eyes, and a green face mask on. 

he insisted on applying it himself. 

he also insisted on washing it off just as quick as he had applied it. 

and of course, you were laughing the entire time. he grumbled something under his breath about, “the things i do for you.” 

—

now, you and grayson sat on your couch, opposite ends, a meter ish or so apart. you were halfway through the first movie of the ‘before’ trilogy. there were no lights in your living room apart from the lit candles and the large tv with the movie playing, the room a mix of golden and blue light.

you yawned, reaching for your cold water bottle to help you stay awake. 

the icy water you drank didn’t help though, and you could feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

why were they so goddamn heavy?

maybe it was the sleep talking, but grayson hawthorne’s arms looked extra inviting tonight. 

you shook lightly your head at the thought. you felt grayson look at you in confusion from the corner of your eye, if you were him, you’d be thinking, “is this girl schizophrenic… why is she shaking her head?”. 

you wanted to laugh out loud at that thought, but then you’d look downright mental. you placed you water bottle back on the table infront of you.

you propped your elbow on the armrest of the sofa, your head resting in your hands.

as the two main characters in the movie talked on a train, your eyelids were begging to close. your head shot up slightly every time you’d reopen them, willing yourself to stay awake. 

you took your arm off the armrest and sat with your knees on the sofa, curling up slightly to the other side.

i’m just going to my eyes for a 5 minutes, you told yourself, i’m not even tired.

you stayed true to your word, and your eyes opened 5 minutes later.

only, you weren’t resting on your hand anymore— you were on grayson’s chest, and one of his arms were around you.

you hummed in confusion, using all your energy to get yourself off of grayson’s chest. you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, elbows rested on your knees and face in your hands as you leaned slightly forward.

you took your eyes to the tv in your confused, sleepy state and realised something: the credits were rolling. 

maybe it wasn’t just 5 minutes.

grayson watched you in amusement - only really seeing you from the side and back, “we can turn off the movie, if you’d like. it’s getting late.”

“oh, no. it’s okay,” you attempted to stifle a yawn, but you failed.

“i’m sorry,” you turned your head to look at him, “your movie choice wasn’t boring, i swear,” you giggled, your voice sleepy as you nearly zoned out and fell asleep again. 

“i’m just so exhausted.” you said finally, turning to face him with a small smile on your face. “today was so much fun.”

“it was alright, wasn’t it?” he replied, and you saw the corner of his lips turn up a little. 

you blinked at him, a slow smile spreading across your face. “grayson hawthorne having fun and admitting it,” you chuckled slightly, “who would’ve thought i’d live to see the day?” you nudged him with your elbow, and a smile finally split on his face. 

“you know i always enjoy myself with you, i don’t need to say it.”

“i know,” you said softly as you turned to look at him, the dim candlelight making his eyes look warmer than ever. “it’s still nice to hear, though.” 

“then i’ll tell you more often.” 

your heart did a somersault. “okay, deal.” you hadn’t noticed, but he had sat up fully now — closer to you, and you felt yourself wanting the space between you to be even less. “i tell you my amazing jokes, and you tell me how amazing i am to be around.” 

his eyes traveled your face, “i’d tell you regardless.” he said.”you’re an extraordinary person with a mind like no other. i often find myself fascinated by you.” god, only grayson hawthorne could give compliments that made you feel like you and him were the only people existing. 

“you really think so?” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“i know so,” he murmured quietly, “and i know you.” at this point, every nerve in your body was screaming for you to break those few inches between you and just kiss the boy already. 

you didn’t, though. 

it looked like grayson was facing the same internal dilemma as you, because his eyes were on your lips far too much for it to just be friendly. he leaned in slightly, and you felt your own breath hitch.

you whispered against his lips, “what are we doing?”

“we can stop,” he said. “we should stop.”

he didnt sound like he wanted to stop.

in fact, he didn’t even look like it, with the way his eyes were so trained in your lips.

you hesitated for a second. all the times you’d spent with grayson played on a loop in your mind, like all the time waiting, not understanding your feelings, and loving him silently were suddenly so worth it. 

“i’ve never been too good at should.”

you noticed his lips twitch upwards at your words, just before he finally pressed them to yours. the way his breath hitched did not go unnoticed. 

the kiss was soft and tentative as you finally crossed the border you’d been tiptoeing around for the past few years.

one of his hands moved to hold your jaw, the other steady on your waist. they felt cold yet somehow comforting.

maybe this was what you needed.

he began to lean forward into the kiss, his weight shifting until you feel him pressing down slightly. you let yourself fall back and feel the couch arm against your shoulders as he kept leaning, his arms bracing on either side of you. 

he was close, closer than before, closer than ever with his chest almost brushing yours, but for some reason, neither of you stopped.

until you remembered: oh, right. oxygen.

when you pulled back you were breathing heavily, both of you were. 

your whole body felt like it was on fire,

you never understood what people meant by their face feeling hot or knowing that they were blushing, but now you got it.

you just hoped you didn’t look as flushed as you felt.

your hands quickly moved up to his face, pulling him down into another kiss again.

it was like, now that you knew how it felt, you had to keep having it.

you were addicted to grayson hawthorne’s lips. 

and by the looks of it, he was addicted to you too. 

this time, when he pulled back, you propped yourself up on your elbows and fully let yourself breathe.

“was that—“ grayson hesitated, “are you alright?”

here you had grayson davenport hawthorne, sitting right next to you on your couch, with ever so slightly messy hair and flushed lips, asking you if you were alright. 

“yeah,” you ran a hand through your hair as you exhaled, “yeah, i’m alright.” 

grayson’s smile almost matched yours after you said that,  “i’m glad,” he said.

“are we…” you trailed off, not knowing exactly what to ask. especially with grayson’s gaze so focused on you— your mind felt blurry.

“are we going to finish the movie?” you managed to come up with; the next installment of the trilogy you had started to watch with him already began to play.

“you’re tired,” he answered, grey eyes cutting through yours, but they still felt soft somehow. “you should sleep, get some rest.” 

“yeah,” you nodded, mind hazy, barely hanging onto his words. you really were tired.

“you couldn’t possibly understand how long i’ve wanted to do that.” he let the words fall off his lips, eyes trailing down to your mouth before he looked all around your face.

“do what?” you knew exactly what.

his eyes focused on yours. “kiss you.”

your cheeks reddened, but you couldn’t not tease him. 

“i mean, how long, exactly? a timeframe would be nice, maybe, or even like a rough estimate—“ 

you cut yourself off at the sound of his low chuckle as he shook his head, as he ran his hand over his mouth.

you felt like you could skip through a million fields, jump up and down for days, and at this rate, never stop smiling. you were so keenly aware of your heartbeat, of every nerve ending buzzing with energy. 

“sorry, i just…” you cut yourself off with a laugh, you seemed to be finding eveyrthing funny. you weren’t sure if that was the lovesick haze in your mind or the lack of sleep making you delirious.

“i’ve also, um. you know…” talking about your feelings was never easy for you, even when it was with someone you knew better than anyone. “wanted to— i mean, i’ve liked you.” 

he slightly narrowed his eyes jokingly, “you don’t seem that assured of yourself there.” he deadpanned, making you push away his shoulder playfully.

“stop,” you mumbled, hiding your face with your hands for a second. “you know better than anyone i can’t say talk about my feelings like that without wanting to throw up.” 

his eyes softened even further, even though you were taking a humorous tone and chuckled at the end. “i know.”

the corners of your lips turned up slightly, for no real reason other than how happy you felt, “

“i should leave, it’s late. gigi will be coming home soon.”

“yeah,” you nodded as you ran a hand through your hair, “you probably should.” 

“i wouldn’t like to,” he specified, “but, it’s more sensible.” 

“yeah. sensible.” you nodded once again, “sensible is good, you’re right. it’s really late.” you laughed for no reason, not even too sure if the words that were spilling out made any sense.

you said goodbye at the door once again, and this time, you felt brave enough to his kiss his cheek goodbye. the action took a lot of courage, even though he had practically been on top of you 30 minutes prior. 

it was actually time for you to go to bed now, and you rolled over relentlessly. you couldn’t count how many times you replayed the moment over and over in your head. 

you brought a hand to your mouth as you fought a smile.

grayson, the boy you’d known since forever. his lips, yours. 

seriously, what was your life? 

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

[whousestypewriters]

i don't know why i'm here - j.h x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing

a/n: hellooooo this is a long overdue fic but i was in a jameson mood hehe so here we are babies. also this is set in a boarding school :))

taglist: @midiosaamor, @reminiscentreader, @ravenclawdirectioner, @tornqdowarnings, @benny1989fredd,

@foolish1girl, @off-to-the-r4ces, @emelia07, @delicatepoett, @kozumesphone, [if your name is white it means i couldn't tag you]

jameson hawthorne is smart. dangerously so.

but you're smarter. and you prove it on the days when you win tests and pop quizzes.

most of the time only by one point, but still. beating jameson hawthorne is something you relish in. its not often that the only hawthorne brother that attends mightwood academy shows weakness.

and ever since the time you beat him on your first day and first pop quiz he's been out to win back the coveted spot at the top of the class.

so what started as a petty competition has now grown into the largest rivalry on campus. everybody knows about it. its gotten to the point where if people see you walking towards your room with a frown etched onto your face, they know to get out of the way. or the same way if they see jameson sauntering towards you with a smirk on his face, they know to lean in to watch.

most of them can't tell if you're about to rip each others throats out or starting making out. it could go either way honestly.

and right now as you watch jameson idly walk over to your desk - the teacher not even bothering to tell him off; he's the jameson hawthorne, why would she tell him off? - you decide you want to rip his throat out.

"well, well, mea vita-" the stupid nickname he calls you grates on your nerves. he won't tell you what it means and apparently latin is the one language you have a personal problem with and refuse to learn it. or maybe you just don't want to know what stupid insult he's calling you.

"what did you score?" he asks placing his test paper on the table, the red one hundred at the top a taunt left for you.

"an ehjdfnphs," you mumble.

"a what-y what what?"

"an eighty-six," you snap at him. shoving your paper down onto the desk, grabbing your bag and storming out of the classroom, ignoring the teachers calls.

maybe it was the fact that you had had a fight with your mother that morning, because she wasn't letting you come home for the holidays and demanding you stay during the schools winter break. or maybe it was the fact that jameson was acting like and ass and you finally had enough.

which ever it was, it doesn't matter. you lost your shit in class so thats going to be a detention on your record and thats going to be another week of tormenting from jameson.

you exhale when you swing the door to your room open and launch your bag onto your bed. sitting down in your desk chair and shoving your head in your hands.

a sigh leaves your lips and instead of wallowing in your idiotic decisions you decide to throw yourself into the one thing you're actually good at. studying - and sending an apology email to the teacher which will hopefully decrease your detention time.

time passes fast while you're buried in your books, words and notes fly past you as you read over the material you seemingly failed at learning well enough to score an eighty-six.

a knock at the door has you jolting awake - you don't even recall when you fall asleep but judging by your dry mouth and patch of drool on the desk you did.

yawning you get up and open to door surprised when you see a dishevelled hawthorne standing there.

"jameson?" you look over at your alarm clock on your desk. "it's eleven pm, what are you doing here?"

his words are soft, "i don't know." but he holds out a bowl candy in offering. "you missed dinner though i thought i would come and make sure you ate."

it must be the sleep deprivedness acting on your behalf, because you actually step back and let him in with a soft smile. his eyes widen in surprise as if he was expecting you to take the bowl and slam the door in his face - which if you weren't hungry or tired you probably would've done.

"so this is what your room looks like huh?" jameson's question is quiet. he scans the room as is he's remembering every detail about it. which you really wish you had time to clean up now that you think about it; the dirty dishes stolen from the kitchen, the scattered homework and the unfolded laundry piled on your bed doesn't exactly scream responsible.

"mea vita, have you even left your room to eat today?" he asks concern clouding his eyes.

"jameson. why are you here?"

he's quiet for a moment. "... i'm sorry about the way i acted earlier, it was a dick move to do that in class when i could already see you were in a bad mood."

"it was- wait how did you know i was in a bad mood?"

"i could just tell," he shrugs and sits on your bed. "but i really am sorry, i let the stupid feud get into my head."

it must be the fact that he brought your favorite candies in the bowl, or the gentle look on his face that makes you move towards him and sit down next to him.

"i'm going to win next time." why did you say that?

and just like that the calm in the room evaporates and jameson's devastating smile returns. "or so you think mea vita."

"I will, today was just a fluke."

challenge sparks in his eyes. "oh really?"

you inch closer getting in his face, "oh yes, i will. you're going to watch me win jameson hawthorne."

his eyes drop to your lips and your stomach drops - why is one look making you feel this way? this can't be good. "it would be an honor to watch you win, mea vita."

he bends down in a question and you nod letting him.

kissing jameson feels like falling. it feels like winning and losing at the same time. your breath hitches and you feel your composure about to come undone.

kissing jameson feels freeing. like you'll never have to pass another test as long as he there.

it feels like victory.

a/npt2: guys its 1am and i'm struggling to keep my eyes open so if that ending isn't good enough just let me know and i'll add a second part :))

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title : four bottles and a maybe kiss

pairing: Jameson Hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis : you are at a bar with the Hawthorne brothers who you’ve grown up friends with. But being with Jameson Hawthorne has always been a little different than the others, it’s always felt like there is something more…

warnings : drinking and alcohol

a/n : this is my first ever time writing in this platform so idk if this is too long or really rubbish, I just hope you enjoy and I’m always open to feedback

tag list : there is no tag list but let me know if you want to be on it :)

The music was so loud I could feel each beat in my chest. The pounding of the song was beginning to match the pounding in my head. I could feel my limbs beginning to ache. I needed to get out of hot, sticky, sweatiness of this place. I knew I wasn’t even the slightest bit tipsy, I’d only had one drink and I’m glad, it was easy to get lost in this place. Eventually I find the door to exit. The cold air laps my exposed skin, drinking up the humidity greedily and I’ve never been more grateful. I tip my head back, shutting my eyes and take a deep breath in. I allow the oxygen to fill my lungs and feel a little calmer, a little less achy. I exhale, thankful for the cool breeze of the night. But it’s not longer before my kind begins to wander as it often does when the rest of the world is silent and it always directs me back to the same train of thought. Jameson Hawthorne.

I’d grown up by his side and him by mine. We had always gotten on, always been like minded people with a high aptitude for various subjects. Tobias had always had a liking for me, approving of one of the family’s few outside connections. I’d always been close to all the Hawthorne brothers but Jameson… Jameson was so different. It never felt like just a friendship, the bond was too strong, too emotional for just that. His familiar smirk often laced my dreams and his bright eyes constantly plagued my imagination. Things like that don’t just happen. From the day we met and every day after, there has been a spark. I can feel the electricity pulsing through my veins when I’m around him and I don’t know if he can feel it too. So I say nothing and of course he says nothing and so we live on. Me, imagining the impossible and Jameson… being Jameson.

Suddenly, reeling me out of my thoughts quite literally, my body jerks forward as I feel something hit my back with force. I slam into the pavement, the impact hard, but break my fall with my hands.

“Oh shit shit shit, I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice says.

My head whips around and my eyes widen, “Jameson?”

‘Huh just the person I was thinking about…’ I think, ‘Fate? Nah.’

I look up. There he is, standing there. He’s just fallen out of the door of a bar but somehow still looks like some sort of Greek god. His face so perfect it’s unfair, eyes so bright it gives the sun a run for her money, a smile so alluring that I’d sell both my kidneys just to see it once.

“Oh hey there Y/N!” he grins as I stand up wiping my hands on the bottom of my dress, “didn’t see you there.”

“You don’t say,” I reply, analysing him. His face was red and rosy, his eyelids drooping slightly and I could see the sweat dripping off of his forehead.

“What?” he asks, cocking his head to one side

“You’re drunk,” I state.

“Nooooo,” he slurs, grinning as he stumbles towards me. He’s about to fall over before I act fast and catch him. I underestimated his weight and falter slightly but managed to pull him back as he’s wheezing with laughter.

“What’s so funny Jamie?” I ask, not bothering to suppress my smile.

“I fell over,” he laughs, “and this is the second time now!”

I sigh, “How many drinks have you had?”

“Four…” he says, hesitating a little while, “…bottles.”

“Jameson!” I exclaim.

“Y/n!” he yells, mocking my shocked tone.

“Four whole bottles!”

“Nash had double,” he defends, putting his hands up. His hair, as unruly as ever, look particularly good tonight. I don’t know what he’s done with it but it made him look so beautiful.

“Is that why he’s cowboy dancing?” I ask, recalling the routine if previously witnessed, that will be engraved into my brain for the rest of my life.

“And screaming Taylor Swift,” Jameson tells me, “I believe when I left it was ‘picture to burn’ but by now it could be anything.”

“Damn I missed that,” I say.

“Gray probably got it on video,” he shrugs, tapping one hand on his leg in a rhythm, like he often does when he’s nervous or distracted or just needs to burn some energy.

“Where’s Xander?” I ask him.

“I don’t knowww,” Jameson slurs, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips and back again, “but I know where you are!”

I smile softly, folding my arms and leaning on the wall behind me, “and where am I?”

His eyelids fall down and then pry open slowly before he slumps down against the wall, hitting the concrete with a thump. That’s going to be a painful bruise tomorrow.

“You are here, with me,” he laughs, “and I’m really happy you’re here with me.”

“You are?” I ask, my eyebrows flying up, caught off guard at the comment

“Yep, can I tell you a secret?” he asks me, his green eyes sparkling as my stares up at me, clinging to my forearm.

“What’s your secret?” I whisper.

“You have to come down here to hear it,” Jameson giggles, tugging twice on my arm. I oblige and sit down next to him, my back against the wall. He takes my face between his hands and I’m taken by surprise. He’s so gentle and soft. My brain is telling me to pull away but our eyes connect and my brain doesn’t seem to work much after that. I’m staring into pools of lush green emeralds, hypnotising me from any logic I may have had. All I can hear is my heart is thumping loudly in my ears.

“What’s your secret?” I whisper, our faces inches apart, almost touching but not quite there.

“You are my favourite person,” he murmurs, “ever!”

His hands no longer cup my face and instead the tip of his finger is booping my nose. I scrunch up my face and try not to laughs. This was probably the most drunk if ever seen Jameson.

“Really?” I ask him.

“Yep,” he nods.

I can’t believe what he’s saying. I can’t let myself, it would be too cruel. He’s drunk. So very drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He won’t remember a word of it and he probably doesn’t mean it. But he possibly does. Hope blossoms in my chest and it feels so much better than the doubt. My heart is still racing, my cheeks from heating up. Thank god he won’t remember.

“Well that’s nice to know,” I say, “you want to know my secret?”

“Yeah!” he says, like an excitable puppy, practically jumping up and down in anticipation. It’s adorable. But I can’t afford to think that.

“You’re my favourite person as well,” I tell him quietly.

“Really?” he makes her, tipping his head to the side.

“Yuh-huh,” I say.

“That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” he muses, “like a kitten.”

I can’t help myself as I let out a giggle. Drunk Jameson is completely random, spouting absolute nonsense but I love it. I love him. But I can’t love him because he’s just a friend. My smile fades slowly and I sigh silently staring up at the stars in the night sky. Maybe in another life, some other universe we’re written in the stars but in this one… no.

“Don’t stop,” Jameson says suddenly.

I stare at him, confusion painted across my features, “Don’t stop what?”

“Smiling,” he replies, “you’re so pretty when you smile…I mean you’re pretty anyway,” he rambled on, “but that smile…” he sighs as he trails off.

“You’re definitely drunk,” I scoff, getting to my feet.

He quickly scrambles up after me, grabbing my arms so I’m staring right at him, “this is the most sober I’ve felt all night.”

“After four bottles?” I chuckle, “yeah right.”

“Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are,” he asks suddenly.

“What?” I ask, getting whiplash from the turn of conversation.

“Your eyes…” he murmurs, his finger grazing my jawline.

“Jameson stop this,” I say, pushing him away despite wanting nothing more than his fingers on my skin, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

I can’t afford to have my heart broken again. I can’t take it. I won’t let myself fall. I replay those sentences in my head over and over, sounding like a mad woman but not caring for a second because I’m too stubborn to let myself go through the pain again.

“I think I do,” he replies, “I could talk about you for hours.”

I have to keep reminding myself he’s drunk. No matter how hard I want to believe that this is real, I know better than to be fooled. Things like this only happen in fiction, not in the real world. Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne, the words are etched into my brain and yet somehow I’m managing to ignore their overbearing call.

“That’s very sweet but you should probably go home and get some rest,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to take responsibility, wishing I was more reckless and selfish so that I’d just take this as my opportunity. But I’m not like that.

“Come with me,” Jameson shouts, a clear desperation in his voice, despite the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere and didn’t plan to. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him.

I shake my head, “no Jamie, not today.”

“But I’ll miss you,” he pouts, his hands travelling down my body and stopping at my waist, “and then I’ll get sad.”

I bite back the shiver that is begging to run through me. We’re so close. Butterflies dance around in my stomach, almost as chaotically as Nash when he does his cowboy routine to Taylor Swift. My rational mind is telling me to break free from his grasp but I feel so nice, it feels too natural that I stay.

“You’ll manage,” I tell him quietly.

“I don’t think I will,” he says. I can feel his thumb rubbing circles on the small of my back, “when I’m without you I’m so…” he struggling to find the right word, “down. Nash keeps telling me I should just tell you how I feel but what does he want me to do? Tell you that when you’re not around everything that’s meant to be colourful looks grey or that I spend most of my time thinking about the way your hair curls in the rain or the way I’ve noticed that you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous. Or the dreams I’ve had about you dancing in my arms, your voice calling me yours and the sunset beaches we lay on whole we talk about everything.”

“Jameson…” I whisper, reaching out and touching his cheek tentatively.

“I love you Y/N L/N,” Jameson tells me, looking me dead in the eyes.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I reply sharply, shaking myself from his gasp. I’m suddenly cold without his warm hands situated on my waist, but I refuse to shiver.

“No! Listen to me! It’s always been you, I truly think it has been,” he says, so convincingly I almost believe him, “from the day we first met there’s always been something there. I felt it and I know you did too,” his voice, so determined, so passionate, “there was no way you couldn’t have. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you all of this but it’s only taken me this long to express it because I’m too much of a coward to try when I’m sober,” he admits, honesty in his shining green eyes, “but I know what I’m saying, I know what I’m doing and I’m so crazy on this high of love that I don’t think the alcohol is even working anymore.”

“I want to believe you, really Jamie, I do,” I murmur, “you don’t know how badly I want this but…” I trail off, unable to finish what my brain wants me to say, getting distracted by the way he’s looking at me.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks me softly, his eyes flicking from mine to my lips.

“Jameson-“

“Your lips look so beautiful,” he says, “Can I kiss you?”

a/n: find more like this on my TIG Masterlist

[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!

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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!"

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