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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

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so... how about that jameson au though

(Anon is referencing an AU where Nanda turns up alive, I wrote a short piece on the concept here)

CW: Whumpee returned to whumper, captor bonding, dubcon (mostly implied? mostly), grief

Nanda's thumb and finger rub along the back of Jameson's neck, and he closes his eyes, tipping his chin forward to bare the skin more fully to the familiar touch. The leather seat beneath him feels impossibly soft. The car is new, but the scent of it isn't.

"What do they call you now?" Nanda asks, carefully casual, steering into a turn without signaling. His car, sleek and silver and looking somehow incredibly futuristic and oddly sexual, glides along the road. "In this house I found you in?"

Jameson doesn't look up. He can feel his skin prickling, the hair on his arms standing up. At the same time, he's shivery, feels a warmth pulsing through him. "Jameson," He says. His voice is hoarse. It's always hoarse now. For so long...

"Jameson?" Nanda's voice sounds curious, only curious. His fingernail scrapes lightly along Jameson's nape, edging the softest baby hairs there. Jameson's breath catches. "Like the whiskey?"

He swallows. Custard and blood, a voice he thought he'd never taste again. Vanilla and copper, somehow swimming together. It's not a good taste, but it's one his life revolved around once. A taste he loved, sometimes hated, sometimes both in equal measure. "Yeah." He drops to a whisper. "I was kept in a... a house for a while. I could see these bottles... he'd empty the bottles, and line them up. Jamison Whiskey, always. I thought it-... it sounded like a good name."

Nanda pauses. "... you read the bottles?"

Oh, right. Nanda never knew.

Jameson hitches in a breath. They're still slipping through the city like an eel through ocean, winding around neighborhoods as if avoiding beds of green plants waving in the water. The lights are purple in some spots and bright in others. Jameson wonders if Nanda's taking him-

... what used to be home.

"I read the bottles," He whispers. "I could-... I could always read."

Another long pause. Nanda glances behind him, then pulls over - still without using his turn signal, and that sure hasn't changed. The car's tires crunch along the gravel beside the road, then settle into a rumbling smoothness as they move into grass. Nanda cuts the lights, and leaves he and Jameson sitting in total darkness, without even a streetlight to see by. Only the dim hint of moonlight and stars.

"You weren't supposed to be able to read."

"I... I know. But I can."

"You never told me you could." Nanda's palm is heavy and hot on his neck, now. Jameson twists his fingers into his sweatpants to keep his hands from shaking as Nanda's voice drops low, too. "You lied to me."

"I was-... scared to tell you."

"You should have told me anything. Everything. There shouldn't have been anything I didn't know."

"No, I know, but... fuck. What if you had them take it away?" He looks, now. He finds the courage to raise his head, to turn and look Nanda right in his eyes. They're just a gleam in the night. "I needed it. I, I'm alive because I can read. If I couldn't, and you died, I wouldn't have... been able to read, to, to know-"

"You lied." No anger. Just calm certainty. "To me."

"... yes. I lied." He jerks away from Nanda's hand finally, raking a hand back through his hair, hating it again. It used to be thick, and kind of pretty actually. Used to look good. Even this long after escaping Robert, it still grows in unevenly, different lengths. And some places never grew back at all, so he has to grow it out to cover the bald spots up, but then the uneven bits are obvious, and... "I fucking lied, okay?! I had to protect myself. I had to, to keep safe."

"From me?" Nanda's voice is empty of emotion. It's worse than anger could ever be. "You had to protect yourself from me?"

"More than anyone, you fucking asshole!"

He's going to cry again. He forces the heat of the tears back, lets them turn into a twist of acid anger in his chest alongside his racing heart. He doesn't lower his gaze. He looks Nanda right in the face.

He thought he'd never see this face again.

"You-" His voice cracks, and he fights to get it back. Not to go silent now, when he has to say this, the thing he's always held inside. There's never been a grave he could cry at, there's never been a body to bare his heart to. Not since-

"You could have killed me yourself, and I'd have let you do it." The words come out too quickly, they run together and he's breathless at the end of the sentence. He grabs at Nanda's hand with both of his, holding so tightly he can feel Nanda's bones move, can hear the slightest hiss of breath as he winces. "And you might have. Even if all you did was send me back, they'd wipe it all away again. I'd lose too much, I'd lose you, you shit, and I didn't want to lose you. When you died, I thought-"

"I wasn't dead-"

"I didn't fucking know that!" He can't scream anymore, not like he used to. His voice only turns to wind, the rasp of an oncoming storm. Nanda is a rumble of thunder, and Jameson the leaves shivering on branches about to blow down and die. "If they found me, they'd blame me, and they'd send me back, for being defective, for being a fucking reject, for-... they'd take you away. They'd take you away from me, from my head."

He pulls Nanda's hand to him, leans forward, his forehead resting against the warmth of Nanda's palm, those fingers curved slightly over the top of his head. Like a god giving benediction, maybe. Like he could be lifted up or shoved off a cliff with just one motion.

"I couldn't lose you, not because I wasn't right. I couldn't fucking lose you. If you knew I could read, if you sent me back-... if they sent me back after you died-... they'd take you. I couldn't, I couldn't lose you. I couldn't. You're mine, god damn it, you were mine!"

"Pet-"

"I had to keep you mine." He drops his grip on Nanda's hand, but it doesn't move away, and neither does he. "I had to keep you in my head, because-... because if you were gone, and I didn't know you, then why was I ever here?"

He's talking about Nanda, and he isn't. There's some other face beneath it, another voice, another taste. A smile he'd known from his first memories, a loss he couldn't recall because it had been a loss too great to bear losing.

He doesn't let that other face surface. Some part of him knows the name but he holds it deep, deep down. "I'm what I am because I thought it was okay to lose, to forget, but when you were gone, I, I couldn't, I couldn't lose again. I couldn't forget you again. Don't you fucking understand that?"

Nanda stares at him, slightly wide-eyed, an expression Jameson has never seen before in his handsome, angular face. There's so much more silver in his beard now than there used to be. But they both look so much older, so much different, now.

The silence draws out, between them, and Jameson twists. Lightning threatens. There's no rumble of thunder, only the weight of something about to break overhead and if it does, he'll drown.

"Well?" His voice shakes, but he covers it up with rage. He always covers up his fear with anger. It's the only way he's lived this long. It's safe and easy. "Lost your fucking voice now, all of a sudden? Huh? You gonna fucking say something to me, you piece of shit, you were dead and how goddamn dare you come back and take me like nothing ever happened, like I didn't-... like I didn't have to live without you, for so long without, like I-"

He never finishes the sentence.

"Shut up," Nanda snaps. It's a growl, a snarl, and Jameson thrills to the sound of his voice. His hands are there, they shove Jameson to the side and then back. Nanda hits something along the side of his seat and the back drops flat. Jameson gasps as his head bounces back against the headrest, and then Nanda is on top of him again, yanking his shirt up with a ferocity that feels like the cloth burns along his scarred skin as it goes. His wrists are tangled in the cotton and Nanda grunts, irritated, and leaves it there as he works at Jameson's sweatpants, yanking them down off his hips until he's nearly naked, on his back in the passenger seat of a car, on the side of the road.

"Nanda-"

"I said shut the fuck up-"

Nanda's hand claps over his mouth, and his protests are muffled at first. Then they aren't protests at all, as Nanda's lips are hot against his neck, and then his teeth dig and his tongue works against the reddening skin he's just bitten.

Nanda's hand closes around him, between his legs, and Jameson cries out, all but levitating off the seat into scorching touch. He's dizzy, with the way all his blood suddenly shifts to meet that hand. He can barely think. Nanda's strokes are rough and fast, and Jameson rolls into them, again and again. All his thoughts are washed away by the lust that floods him.

Somewhere under that, though...

He's still afraid.

It could end any second.

It could all have been a dream.

This might have been the wrong choice.

Or it wasn't a choice at all.

Nanda yanks his hand back and Jameson whimpers at the loss, whines like an animal in heat, only to have Nanda grab him and roughly turn him over, throwing him back down. They're closed in this car, the space too small for it. His elbow bangs on something, his feet are pressing up against the rough carpet under the dashboard. But that hand is off his mouth, then. He can breathe, and he can make a sound that isn't entirely human as Nanda's mouth is back on his neck, the heat of his chest against Jameson's shoulder blades, the hardness of him pressed just where Jameson wants it, always wanted it

Didn't always want it-

"Nanda... please-... just wait-"

"I don't wait for you," Nanda whispers against his ear, nips at the shell. He can't stop himself from moaning at the feeling, as broken as that sound is now from his ruined throat. "You wait for me, when I say. You don't tell me when."

Jameson's eyes open, then. He's staring into an expanse of stars through the back windshield, and the sky is so goddamn empty between them, isn't it? Between the tiniest points of light, dead suns, and maybe their planets still revolve around them in the darkness.

"... I was learning," He whispers.

Nanda pauses. His breath is deafening against Jameson's ear. "What?"

"... I was learning how to say when."

He's a planet orbiting a dead star.

"Pet-"

"... I loved you."

"Loved?"

He's crying again. Goddamnit, he's crying again, and his shoulders shake with the sobs he can't hold back any longer. Nanda exhales and drops, weight against him, reassuring and real, alive. "I still love you, but I love-... I love-... I loved that I learned to be-... to b-be Jameson, fuck, stop it stop it stop crying, you shit, you fucking, just stop fucking crying!"

"Sssshhhhh. It's okay." Nanda's voice is a rumble, and the world shakes a little, gentle as a shower of rain. But he can't taste the rain here, not so far away from Allyn.

He can't taste the rain, only copper and sweet.

The stars blur into nothing, they're lost to the darkness when he tries to look through the tears. Even if his vision clears, it isn't even the stars he'd be seeing.

"Nanda... there's someone else."

He only sees the memory of what's already been lost.

#nanda #jameson au #jameson bb #whump #recaptured whumpee #sorta #captor bonding #grief #box boy #box boy universe #bbu #intimate whumper #recovering whumpee

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duckapus · 11 months

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Idea: Candace Flynn ends up as Spider-Woman. She's still afraid of spiders and heights. All of her excuses for why she has to run off are accepted no matter how terrible they are because she already had a habit of running off in the middle of something for weird reasons. Monogram wants to recruit her now that she's technically an animal but knows Perry would probably kill him if he tried. Her first major villain is a rogue agent named Otto the Octopus. J. Jonah Jameson is apparently Buford's uncle-in-law.

#spiderman #phineas and ferb #candace flynn #major monogram #perry the platypus #doctor octopus #owca #otto the octopus #j jonah jameson #buford van stomm #technically this whole au exists for the sake of making doc ock an actual octopus #spider-candace au

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cassiachales · 29 days

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Journal Entry Two [And Realising That Grayson Hawthorne Has A Slutty Waist]

note: i actually didn't expect people to like this and actually read it ajhhagfrkyuesyrk thanks for all your nice comments <33

Sunday– Simply put, I’m fucked. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xander’s amazing plan began by throwing a party in Hawthorne House, and honestly, after drinking a bit too much last night, you didn’t find enough courage in yourself to drink more.

Because Xander’s parties always, always had a game of Whiskey Woes, and whiskey made your head spin.

Xander: Honestly, you should be glad I’m not locking you two in a room together 😏

You read and re-read that message countless times, not believing that Xander was actually trying to set you up with Grayson.

Like seriously?

You, someone who has life, and him, who’s a living statue? Even a random person on the street would say that the two of you didn’t belong together, no etceteras at all.

You: I don’t think whatever you’re planning is any better

Xander: Trust in me

Trusting a Hawthorne is the biggest mistake one can make. It’s a bad idea.

Unfortunately, you’re filled to the brim with bad ideas.

That’s how you found yourself in the sunroom of Hawthorne House at eight p.m., unopened whiskey bottles on the floor and papers with pens. Every single Hawthorne was there, except for Nash.

Bartending, apparently.

Avery was there too, sitting on the sofa with Jameson at her feet. And then there was Maxine Liu, who you knew to be Avery’s best friend.

Grayson was on an armchair, his legs stretched out and his body leaning to the side, his index finger on his temple and his elbow settled on the armrest.

Xander cleared his throat, and you began to dread what he was planning.

“As everyone here knows, no party is complete–or begins–without Whiskey Woes. Usually, we write a secret on a piece of paper, a secret that completely breaks you, and throw it in the Bowl of Woe.” He points towards a flowery plastic bowl in the middle of the room, decorated with chipped paint which illustrated roses and lilies.

“And then, we sit in a circle and ask questions. Each of you get one bottle of whiskey, and each time you pass a question, you drink a whole glass. When your bottle is over, you read out your woe. But this time, we’re doing things differently.”

Oh, no.

Xander smirked, and Jameson’s back straightened. Grayson’s eyebrow raising was the only sign of interest he showed.

“This time, we’re doing this in pairs. Choose your partners wisely.”

And then Xander extended his hand to Maxine, and Maxine took it.

They settled on the floor together, pulling one bottle of whiskey each and two slips of paper and pens.

“Well then, Heiress?”

“As if I’m choosing someone else.”

Jameson took his place on the sofa, bringing with him the supplies to play the game.

That left you, and a certain Grayson Hawthorne.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Whiskey Woes in a group is pain, but in pairs? With Grayson Hawthorne? No. Just no. Someday, I’m going to kill Xander for this, because it’s not like Grayson had any other choice other than teaming up with me. Whiskey, a game, and Grayson Hawthorne? Recipe for disaster. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Do I have a choice on not playing?” Grayson asked, and honestly, points to him. You don’t want to play a game with whiskey involved with him.

Xander smirked again. “Do you want to quit, Gray?”

Grayson stiffened.

“Oh, and another rule. If you don’t want to drink the whiskey and not answer a question, you remove an article of clothing from your body.” Xander continues.

Now, you glared at him.

“Sounds like you’re trying to mix in Strip Bowling.” Jameson said.

Xander shrugged. “I made the game, I make the rules.” Then he says your name. “Planning on playing? Gray’s the only one left, by the way.”

“Can’t I just drink without playing?”

“No.”

You sigh, getting up from your seat on the floor and moving towards the armchair Grayson sits on.

He looks at you walk towards him, and you want to combust.

You extend a hand. “Partners?”

He sighs, sitting up straight in his chair before lifting one hand and clasping yours in a stiff shake. “Partners.”

“Great.” You sit on the floor again. “Now sit down.”

He looks at the floor distastefully. “Must I?”

“It’s either you sitting on the floor or me sitting in your lap. Take your pick.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── And you know what’s worse? I told him to either sit on the floor, or let me sit on his lap. I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO COME OUT LIKE THAT, I SWEAR. IT SOUNDED LIKE I WAS GOING TO DO THAT SEXUALLY OR WHATEVER BUT SERIOUSLY, I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?” He doesn’t let you repeat what you said, though, sliding down from the chair and loosening his tie, sitting on the floor as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

He removes his jacket, throwing it on the armchair and rolling up his sleeves till the elbows.

You can’t stop looking.

“Done staring?” He asks, dryly.

You ignore him, writing your woe on the slip of paper instead.

I find Grayson Hawthorne hot. Yes. That’s it.

There. Something not too bad, but still suitable for Whiskey Woes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Trust me. I’m not going for sexual. It just happens. And no, I’m not writing down what I wrote. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Grayson tries to get comfortable when he writes, one long leg bent with the knee upwards, and near his head. His hair falls over his face as he writes, the paper on the floor.

He looks devastatingly handsome.

He takes your folded slip of paper and walks towards the Bowl of Woe, depositing the slips in the bowl and bringing back two bottles of whiskey.

He pours his whiskey into a glass, to the brim, and uncaps your bottle to pour in your glass too. And then:

“You start.”

You scramble for a question, before you settle on one.

“Do you actually tango?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I am embarrassment in a body ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Excuse me?”

You blink once, twice, thrice before you look away, “Forget it.”

“Pfffft.”

His lips are in a small smile, which he tries to cover with his fingers.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But tell me, Why. Is. His. Laugh. So. Hot. It wasn’t even a real laugh. Just a small pfffft and it was both cute and hot?? ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Yes.” Grayson says, answering your question. “I’m assuming you get into tough situations a lot?”

You nod. “Now ask your question.”

His look is almost smug. “That was my question.”

“Did you know you’re almost cute when you don’t act like an entitled asshole?”

He drinks the whole glass of whiskey.

You blink. “That wasn’t a question but I’ll accept it.”

Grayson shrugs. “Everything’s a question.”

You don’t know how you ended up in your position around five minutes later. Around half of your bottle is empty, and his is almost over.

“Do you really have to ask such prying questions?” He asks, his eyes almost tired.

“Yes. My turn. Who’s the girl you kissed in Harvard?”

He frowns, taking a look at the bottle of whiskey.

Then he sighs.

You expect him to answer, but he doesn’t.

Instead, his long fingers move to his tie and removes it completely. He tosses it to the side. “One article of clothing.”

You hear Xander tut. “A tie doesn’t count, Gray.” And then the youngest Hawthorne downs a whole glass of whiskey.

Grayson’s fingers begin to undo the top button of his shirt, and he sighs again. “I absolutely loathe this game.”

It’s like watching a show. His long fingers unbutton each and every button before he removes his shirt and tosses it to the side.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── But then, guess what happened. He fucking removed his shirt. I will not tell him this, EVER. But Grayson Hawthorne has a slutty waist. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry One ☆ Journal Entry Three

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #au #fanfic #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne

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juicyussy · 6 months

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Here’s some fanart of an noco au where Cody and Noah go to high school together but instead of being a bookworm and a geek Noah is a metal head and Cody is a skater boy anyways 💥

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silly-little-gooses · 11 days

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the inheritance games royalty au headcanons/story ideas!

I made a post about this a little bit ago and many seemed to like the idea of tig taking place in a royalty au so here are some headcanons or perhaps story prompts! :)

recently, the wealthy king of their kingdom (tobias hawthorne) passed away under mysterious circumstances. instead of one of his children or grandchildren receiving his inheritance, it goes to a peasant named avery grambs who lives in a small cottage on the edge of the kingdom.

the royal family is shocked when they find his hand-written will in the kings old office but they cannot let the news get out to the public. citizens would riot! so avery was summoned to the palace for a formal talk.

grayson was raised all his life to become king. instead of ‘heir apparent’, he was the royal successor. he still has his iconic blonde hair and cold gray eyes, but his suits are adorned with royal badges and pins to flaunt his status. he doesn’t care for citizens much, but avery may change his mind…

jameson was the prince that all the girls in the village would fawn over, like in the original tig universe. he was charming, clever, cocky, and didn’t care much for being a prince. he has a history of dancing with numerous ladies at balls and drinking a few too many glasses of champagne.

nash is the oldest grandson, but rejected the throne from an early age. he always preferred casual clothing over royal dress and practically raised himself. he’s tired of the fortune and fancy class that is royalty, so he’s especially curious when a certain goth catches his eye…

xander is a goofball, loved by his people. he’s imperfect, not sure which spoon goes with which dish. but he’s kind, intelligent, and charming. scones? try crumpets.

libby loves to bake and dreams of becoming a baker but following the storyline of tig, she is struck with poverty and abuse. when avery must live in the palace for a year, libby is happy to join her. she always wears gorgeous gothic dresses. she soon finds her prince charming in nash, and they live happily ever after.

alisa is a royal advisor for the king when he dies and then begins work as avery’s royal advisor. a few years ago, she was engaged to prince nash before a sudden break up. even if she cannot be queen, she will find a way to make a change in her kingdom.

oren is avery's personal bodyguard ofc! he’s basically the same guy from the series, but make it a bit fancier.

avery is legally not old enough to be queen and all of the complications with the will would still happen in this universe.

instead of meeting on a balcony, jameson and avery meet at a welcoming ball for avery where jameson is very drunk on champagne and is stumbling around the empty hallways of the palace. avery needs some peace and quiet and to just be away from it all when she finds him. he asks her the same riddle as always.

emily was the daughter of a wealthy duchess who was close with the royal family. rebecca, jameson, and grayson still have their trauma with emily’s death.

skye and zara and toby are the children of the late king. princess skye is furious that she doesn’t have the crown which is what turns her evil ig.

this deserves its own freaking fanfic or headcanon list or something but the royal balls at the palace are wild. instead of the blackwood shooting taking place in the actual forest, I imagine it takes place in the royal gardens.

imagine a scene where avery is struggling to get on her corset for an event of sorts and asks jameson to help her. the tension? it would be so good.

overall, I think this au is SO COOL and I definitely want to see some work done with it! if you have any requests, I will be happy to take them! byeee! <3

#the inheritance games #jennifer lynn barnes #avery grambs #booktok #jameson hawthorne #averyjameson #royal au

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vampir3bitez · 21 days

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JSE PUPPET AU EGO REFS!!

I've had these done for a while now i totally forgot to post them here 😭😭😭

More below!!! VVV

these contain my personal headcanons + some fun facts/important details about each character!! I'll be uploading a overall rundown of the lore and each characters backstory over the coming week along with some art I've already done for the AU!!! I hope everyone who's sees it enjoys it :3

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huffle-dork · 4 months

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Have I mentioned how much I love the Fantasy Masks AU!? Cuz here’s my interpretation of the boys hfghb

I need to make full bodies eventually and I know that Jackie has a red cloak now but I swear when I first read it my brain interpreted that as a cool jacket cloak thing GFGVH

I love these boys so much and the world!! And rping it in SITCV has only made me love it more 💚

Oh and for fun- a drawing of the king too ;3c

#fantasy masks au #huffleart #septicart #jacksepticeye #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #jameson jackson #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #it was fun to write their names in glasish too hfhb

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leobashi · 6 months

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This mf showed up FULL FORCE on HALLOWEEN like?? Excuse me winter this was not the treat I requested bdkdbdk

#I had to drive home while it snowed real hard #and I was scared and goin real slow #but I made it!#and kids were still trick to treating!#in the snowy weather!#like goddang #y’all deserve some candy for trekking through the snow #anyway #winter au #art #my art #henrik von schneeplestein #dr schneeplestein #jameson jackson

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i-used-to-wear-the-fedora · 23 days

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Do you guys remember that show 6Teen? I distinctly remember an episode where the Rent a Cop thought Wyatt and Jonesy were dating, and he told Wyatt he could do so much better. Jonesy was so offended, and it gave me an idea.

Peter Parker is seen hanging around the same places as Spider-Man and somehow manages to get up close and personal shots of the hero when no one else can. So J Jonah Jameson can only come to one conclusion. Parker is dating the Spider Menace. What other explanation could there be?

He pulls Peter aside, and at first, he's panicked. JJ definitely knows his secret identity. When the man grabs him by his shoulders, Peter thinks it's over. At least until the man sighs and shakes his head.

"Parker, son, you can do so much better."

"Ugh...what?"

Of course, Peter is offended. But what else is he supposed to say? Actually, I'm Spider-Man? No way. And of course, word gets around the office that Peter Parker is dating Spider-Man and things kind of spiral from there as hijinks ensue.

#spider man #spiderman #marvel #comics #spiderman au #peter parker #j jonah jameson

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

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Oh! Oh, I want at least a snippet of that Jameson/Nanda AU!

Do you think you could write something for it some time?

He never was a deep sleeper. He's always jolted awake at the sound of doors being locked or unlocked, always known when someone was silently watching him from a few feet away. He's always opened his eyes to a touch, a kiss, a slap, a scream.

So now, when there's a brush of lips along the side of his neck, he hitches in a breath, eyes opening to a pure and perfect darkness, tense as he realizes someone made it on top of him before he ever noticed.

"What the f-"

"Ssshhhh." Teeth nip at his earlobe, and his eyelashes brush against someone's palm with every blink. He's being kept blind. But the weight and warmth of the body on top of him, lowering itself to press his back against the sheets, is familiar. "Don't say anything yet."

Blood and vanilla burst to life on his tongue, in a way they haven't since the last thing Nanda said before he fell down the stairs.

He's dreaming.

Jameson relaxes when he hears Nanda speak, because a dream is nothing. Even if this one feels real, and his legs throb and burn with the enduring pain he knows as well as his own heartbeat by now. His legs don't usually hurt in his dreams. But they hurt now.

He bends them at the knees, feet flat on the bed, and the ache subsides a little. Nanda settles between his legs, working his mouth over Jameson's neck again.

"You're dead," He says. He always reminds Nanda, in his dreams, because otherwise he wakes up crying. He's so tired of crying.

Delayed response, his therapist calls it. He wasn't safe to grieve, and it festered. Infected him, a wound he has to clean now with saltwater, washing the poison away here where it can't be used against him.

"Is that why you left?" Nanda asks, in a pause of his movement. The hand covering his eyes pulls away, and he blinks rapidly, having to bend his head forwards to look. "You thought I was dead?"

Nanda always looks the same, in his dreams. Just like he did the day he died.

But this Nanda looks... older. His cheekbones stand out more, and even in the dark, lit only by reflected street lamp through a window, Jameson can see new wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he smiles. The body on his feels a little lighter, maybe. All muscle, little else. He used to have a little extra body, but it'd been worn away, ground down with time.

"Of course I did," Jameson whispers, and lets his head drop back. His head swims with sleep, and he tells himself to wake up.

But nothing happens.

"How could you tell?"

"I put my fingers to your neck, like they do on TV. I couldn't feel anything. I thought you weren't breathing..." He's explained it before. Nanda usually blames him, then, in this dream time conversations. Shames him for going. "They'd have said it was my fault. That I fucking pushed you. Or... I couldn't stay. I couldn't-... I couldn't watch them carry you aw-... away-"

Silence draws out between them, and Jameson's heart feels cold and heavy, barely beating. His dreams aren't usually this... lucid. He feels awake. It feels real.

"Makes sense." Custard and blood, and his body wants to meet Nanda's like it always has, like it was made to. "I'd have run, too."

Jameson goes still. Nanda's body moves along his as he shifts a little further up, until they stare into each other's eyes. Jameson's lips part, but he can't speak, not at first. All the words are choked, held halfway to his lungs by the realization that Nanda looks... like a man who has been sick, and had to heal.

"What happened to you?" Nanda says, with an odd tenderness. He holds himself up with one elbow. A fingertips traces along the scar that clips the corner of Jameson's mouth, drops to run over one that runs along the curve of his shoulder.

"You-"

His hand is warm on Jameson's, curling his fingers for him until only index and middle finger stick up, and then he presses Jameson's fingers to his pulse.

It beats, strong and steady, just under stubble and skin.

"I was alive," Nanda says, "when you left. If you had waited-"

But he never finishes the sentence.

Jameson jerks his hand free and throws his arms around Nanda's neck, buries his face into the crook there where he has always found Nanda's scent and cologne mixed best. He can't breathe. He can't breathe.

He can feel Nanda breathing.

He cries all the time.

But now he finds new tears.

It feels like that was the dream.

Then his voice catches and he can't do anything else but keep crying.

Hands trace along his sides, up under his sleep shirt. Jameson groans, rolling his hips almost desperately. He misses his collar for the first time in months.

"These scars... So many. What happened?"

"I had to kill people," He whispers, between hitched sobs. "I had to, to k-kill people, they would have killed m-me-... I had to fucking kill them-"

"They left these on you?" Nanda's voice holds a frown.

"Y, yes-"

"They hurt you?"

"They, did, did more than-"

"Then I'm glad you did what you had to do." Nanda turns his head to kiss Jameson's patchy grown-in hair, letting out a huff of surprise as Jameson's legs go round his waist, hooked at the ankles. "You still mine?" Nanda asks, voice low, and Jameson shudders with a spike of lust and grief and love.

It's a question he has dreamed Nanda asking a thousand times.

But now...

He thinks of Allyn's smile and waving red hair, the constellations of freckles he maps with tongue and teeth and touch. The way they laugh, as they move on top of him. The way they look sleeping, or turning dandelions into bracelets and necklaces.

The taste of their voice, endless rain showers bright with something verdant and green.

"Yes," He rasps. "I'm... still y-yours-... I missed you so fucking much, you b-bastard-"

"I missed you, too," Nanda murmurs, kissing at his hair again. "It's funny, pet, but when I woke up in the hospital and they said you were gone... I missed you, too. You're still mine. I knew it."

The relief in Nanda's voice, the idea that he had worried about that... It's terrifying.

"Still yours," He whispers. "I love you."

For a second there's a silence filled with what Nanda never once said back.

Then the older man hums, and kisses Jameson's cheek, soft as a single drop of rain.

Or blood.

"Then pack what you need. Let's go home."

#jameson au #nanda #whump #bbu #pet whump #box boy universe #box boy #jesus nanda you can't admit it even now huh

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mrswarnerxo · 4 days

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𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘, series masterlist.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: prince!grayson hawthorne x thief!fem!reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐘: sadly, king tobias hawthorne died under mysterious circumstances. no one in the kingdom knows why, nor how, but what they do know: is that the king—instead of giving his grandchildren his inheritance—he gave a small peasant it. avery grambs. the news quickly spread out to the kingdom, and luckily, into a little thief’s hands. Y/N courts.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: royalty au, fluff, drinking/alcohol use, underage drinking, thievery, stealing, murder, blood and gore, romance, slow burn, opposites (yet similars(?)) attract, enemies to partners to lovers, idc they both fall so damn hard they can’t even see when they started fallin, knife to throat, makining out, jameson hawthorne being jameson hawthorne, mention of death, em*ly laughlin, idk man i could go on in this series, probably actual proper grammar, use of capital letters (im gettin my game on chat), probably slow updates but HEY MY EXAMS ARE DONE AND SCHOOL IS ALMOST OVER SO I’LL MAKE EM QUICKER

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: ongoing (chapters are being made in GOOGLE DOCS before posting)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: idk man probably a lot

𝐀/𝐍: alr CHAT im gettin my game mode on in here. the inheritance games but royalty au, headcanon by @silly-little-gooses. there will be some jameson x avery, nash x libby, nash x alisa (?), and xander x max in here too SO! also i made the reader like a small little character because im too lazy to make a whole ass character about it lmao

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄. 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle @silly-little-gooses (ask to be removed/added to taglist! <3)

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒: in the making!

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗.

i dont have any chapters out😾

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cassiachales · 26 days

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Journal Entry Four [[And Grayson Hawthorne’s Lips] Yes, His Lips]

note: still can't belive the amount of love this silly little self-indulgent fanfic is getting. y'all are the reason i write <33 this chapter is also *slightly* longer than the others taglist: @f4iry-bell, @never-enough-novels, @reminiscentreader, @dahliawarner, @lanterns-and-daydreams

Saturday– It’s been four days since I last saw the reason I bought this journal. Xander’s been demanding to know what happened on Wednesday, and though I really want to tell him, I want to keep that moment to myself. A secret between me and a certain Hawthorne. I’m busy wondering what we are. Acquaintances? Friends? Something with bigger feelings? I don’t know and that keeps scaring me. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Sometimes, you wish you didn’t like guys who wear suits and have dry conversations.

But you can’t help it.

Xander’s on the floor, his hand on his forehead. “Why didn’t the pebble work?”

“Wait, so you were the one who put the pebble there?”

“I thought it would work.” He moans. “It should’ve worked.”

You don’t tell him about how Grayson’s fingers were on your waist and how they still left a phantom touch.

You don’t tell Xander about what Grayson said.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── “How do you do this to me?” ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

And you can’t get his voice out of your head. Low and seductive and you can still feel the featherlight touch of his lips at the curve of your ear.

Grayson’s been ignoring you. When you arrived at Hawthorne House that morning, you’d seen him.

You’d almost said hi when he brushed past you as though he didn’t know you, and Xander had seen it.

“Someone give that guy a dose of happiness.” Jameson had said, his hands around Avery’s shoulders.

And now, Xander was busy moping about how his attempts to set the two of you up had failed miserably.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── He asks me that question as though I know the answer. The only answer I want to ask is: HOW DOES HE MAKE ME WANT HIM?? Yes, he’s attractive. Yes, he’s absolutely amazing. And yes, I might be a little bit in love with him. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You get up from the floor, patting Xander’s head. “I’m gonna go get you a drink.”

He groans. “I hate drinking.”

“You definitely look like you need one.”

“I do, actually.” Then he perks up, as though there’s another idea in his head.

“Xander, don’t you dare–”

“Grayson’s office has the best scotch and wine.” He begins, ignoring you.

“I am not getting whiskey from his office.”

“Oh, you definitely are.”

“I am not.”

“Do you want a chance with him or not?”

Obviously, you do. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to go to Grayson Hawthorne’s office and get a drink from there.

“You are going to go get your own drink.” You say, crossing your arms. “I am not going to go into that prick’s office.”

“Gotta love how he developed from being a hot guy to a hot prick in your eyes.”

“Who said I still find him hot?”

You didn’t care if people called you petty. If Grayson would ignore you, you would ignore him.

Simple.

Xander gets up, nudging your side. “At least get the whiskey.”

“You’re a drunkard.”

He shrugs.

You sigh.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I am definitely the dumbest person on the planet for actually going to the office and getting the whiskey. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You walk down the corridors and go up staircases before you find his office.

You knock.

“Come in.” He says, and his voice sounds as though he’s half asleep.

You can’t help but wonder when, exactly, he’d actually slept through the night.

Opening the door, you step in, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re in surprise.

He says your name.

And god, you love the way your name rolls off of his tongue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” You whisper. You didn’t mean to talk to him about that, but the words escape you.

“Not on purpose.” He whispers back, getting up from his chair. The desk is littered with papers and he looked half-buried in them.

“It seemed like that when you just walked by me like I was nothing.”

“You could never be nothing, Not to me.” He says, and he walks towards you before his back straightens and he looks away.

Until then, until he looked away, you’d believed you could have actually been something to him.

Now?

You feel as though someone is going to take a hammer to your heart.

“How dare you say I could never be nothing and then look away? How dare you play with my heart?” You say. You’re fuming, you can’t believe that you were falling for a man like him.

Until you see him quiver. His eyes are mad and his whole body is shaking, like he wants to say something but the words just won’t come out.

He walks to you, your chests almost touching.

His hands are quivering when they’re on your arms, touching you with a featherlight touch, as though he can’t quite believe you’re real.

“Why can’t I think straight when you’re with me?” And then he says your name, and you’re falling.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── He looked at me like I was the only person alive. Like I was the reason his heart was beating. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Whenever I look at you, I cannot think. Whenever I see you smile or laugh, I feel the sudden urge to join you. Whenever I hear your voice, I feel like I am a damned man and you are my only chance at salvation. How? How do you have such an effect on me? Why is it that you are the only person who crowds my mind? Why can't I help but want to be with you? Why do I want you?

I don’t know. I don’t know why–or how–you consume my thoughts. I have never been able to give my heart but to you? When I am with you, I want to give you all of me. I’ve never been so unsure of my feelings, and then you came along.

I think I love you. I think I am hopelessly in love with you.” Your name rushes from his lips like it’s a prayer.

You can’t breathe.

His lips are nearing yours, and then they stop when they’re a finger’s breadth away.

“I’m afraid that if I kiss you now, I’ll never feel like stopping.” He says, his voice in a low whisper. “But I’m also afraid that if I do not kiss you now, I’ll never be able to think of anything else.”

For two seconds, the two of you stay still.

Then: “Can I?”

The barest of nods.

His lips are on yours and you feel like you’re on fire.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Oh, no, I’m not writing the rest of it down. I’m afraid someone will find this and read this journal and just because of that, I am not writing anymore. But I will say this: his lips are extremely soft and his kiss is like a secret that he never wishes to give away. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Journal Entry Three

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #au #avery kylie grambs #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #the inheritance games #x reader #fanfic

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