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.
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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."
It's like peeling back the layers of chaos to see the quiet, unguarded boy underneath. He’s usually so full of life, a whirlwind of energy and reckless charm, but when he’s sleepy, he’s softer — gentler.
His voice drops an octave, words slurred and lazy, like he’s forgotten how to be the sharp-tongued enigma you know so well. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder without asking, mumbling something incoherent about how comfortable you are.
“Just five minutes,” he always promises, but you know better. Five minutes turns into an hour, and soon he’s out cold, his arms loosely draped around your waist as if to make sure you don’t leave.
Sleepy Jameson is all warm skin and heavy limbs, the kind of presence that makes it impossible to move even if you wanted to. His messy hair falls into his eyes, and if you brush it back, he leans into your touch with a quiet, content sigh.
And when he’s drifting off, he’s honest in a way he never is when he’s wide awake. “You’re too good to me,” he’ll murmur, his words barely audible but enough to send your heart racing. Moments like this make you wonder if Jameson Hawthorne is just as tired of being untouchable as you are of watching him pretend to be.
Because sleepy Jameson? He’s real. And that’s the version of him you could never resist.
𝓦arnings : smut , oral , cursing , pet names , f in v .
“so? how was it?” your friend, stacy asked. she was all up in your personal space by your locker, all giddy since you and patrick feely had the first sleepover last night. you’d been going out with him for 4 months now.
“i didn’t say we did anything, stace.” you say, although you can’t help but a smile.
“something happened. i know it did! come on, spill.” stacy says, grinning ear to ear. when you blushed and kept busy in your locker— stacy gasps, realizing something. “oh my god, he plays guitar, doesn’t he?” she laughs happily. “I bet it was good then.”
you roll your eyes playfully. “im kinda regretting telling you he came over. you are awfully interested in my sex life right now, stacy.” you tease, but nonetheless give in to your best friend. smiling, you discreetly add, “yeah, he’s good with the guitar.”
“so something did happen.” stacy smiles knowingly.
“yeah, something.”
─୨ৎ
“pat,” you panted aganist his lips, breathless as his hands roamed your body, gently — but his need was clear by the way his fingertips gripped your hips.
patrick pulled himself up. his shirt had been taken off by you the second you two fell on your bed earlier. “don’t do this f’me, baby. make sure you want this.” he murmured softly before pressing a drugging kiss to your lips, to emphasize what the “this” was.
“i do want this. i want you, patrick.” you sighed aganist his lips, your nerves melting away at the reassurance he gave so effortlessly, you knew it was because he meant it. he always did.
your eyes drank in his physice, built on working on his familys’ farm and doing rugby. you reach out and run your fingers over his abs and chest, his muscles tighten under your touch. patrick fought a shiver at the warm touch. he sighs and slides his large under your ass, gripping your tommen skirts’ waistband from underneath you.
“don’t look at me like that unless you want me to do somethin’ about it.” his voice was deeper, raspier. he lifts up one of your legs and presses a kiss to your thigh and smirking against it when you shivered.
silently, he slides down to be between your legs, peppering the soft flesh of your thighs. he slides off your tommen skirt and tosses it on your rug floor. he kisses your most sensitive area through your panties, nuzzling against it. “jesus, baby. you’re soaked. you always been like this for me when im holdin’ myself back? all hot and bothered?”
“patrick . . . don’t tease,” you gasp as his nose and lips nuzzle you through your panties, too sensitive for his teasing. “i need . . .”
“what do you need, pretty baby? tell me.” he kisses your area again.
whimpering, “your mouth, patrick.”
“hm. that’s right.” he moves your panties to one side, too turned on and needy to even get up from his spot between you. he presses a kiss to you again. with that, he slowly drags his tongue on you.
as he worked his mouth on you, you cried out helplessly. your legs wrapped around his neck tightly and your hands fisted his hair. “patrick. . . baby . . . fuck! i- i mphm . .”
patrick lifts his head up and he kisses up your body, which only holds a bra now. he presses a kiss to your thigh, stomach, chest, neck and jaw. when he reaches your lips, he leans into the hands now gripping his back. he slips his tongue inside your mouth as one hand escapes your waist and slides to spread open one leg again, before you could process— two fingers slipped inside of you. full, rough and aching.
he restlessly pumped his fingers in and out of you, his face calm like he’s used to working his hands like this— which he was. but even with his calmed face, his eyes were dark and hooded as they drifted between his hand to focus and to you, and when he stared at you—studying you, you couldn’t help but notice the pink flushing on his cheeks.
“you’re close, aren’t ya, baby?” he whispers roughly, kissing your neck, the position caused his veins to flex in his wrist, which did nothing but fuel the fire inside of you as his hand moved in a perfect, effortless rhythm.
his fingers moved faster inside. slick, wet sounds between his hand and you. when he gets the approval by your arms around his shoulders and sweet moans in his ear, he kisses you and groaned against your mouth— “come for me, baby. let go on my hand, pretty girl.”
“patrick. . . god right there!” you cried, clinging to him, your freshly done nails digging into his back.
patrick groaned when your thighs trembled against his arm and hand. “fuckin’ hell. that’s it, baby.”
patrick slowly comes to a stop when he helped you ride out your high.
he slowly, so slowly, pulls out his fingers. he cups your waist and the forearm that was beside your head comes down and his hand cups your jaw. “you’re so beautiful, baby. so perfect. you did so good.” he kisses you deeply, as he does he pulls you against his chest. patrick sighed against your lips when your fingers find his hair, he pulls back, taking your in your flushed face. “my beautiful girl.”
─୨ৎ
“hello? can you even hear me? im waiting.” stacy says, snapping her fingers in your face.
you snap out of your zone-out, you had gotten too wrapped up in the heated memory of the night before. “sorry, what?” you replied, you could feel your cheeks burning.
“i asked how it was. and do not say nothing happened again.”
“well. . . the guitar payed off.” you admitted, once again flustered.
summery | it’s 2005 and you’re a student at tommen. you have a pretty “normal” teenage life..you have a big friend group.. a pretty good boyfriend, you go out to parties on the weekends, as if you’re living the teenage dream. Patrick was a great boyfriend, until he wasn’t. it started off as getting royally pissed at hughie’s parties.. to showing up drunk at school.. to not being able to go a day without drinking. and it showed. In the way he acted.. looked..it was as if he himself wasn’t in there anymore.
authors note !
i’m lowkey still really booty buns and writing fanfic but this is for my own sanity because i kid you not.. there’s like five total patrick feely x reader fics on tumblr and im sick of the smut.. NO HATE TO SMUT.. i just much rather read something less nsfw !! so yeah uh i don’t think this will be a amazing work of art but feel free to read or give suggestions on how to get my writing better !! there IS going to me grammer mistakes and the writing is terrible 😳
♬⋆.˚ The beach- The Neighbourhood
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The music was bouncing off the walls, You weren’t sure how Hughie never got noise complaints, but right now that was the least of your worries. You haven’t seen Patrick all night. He was supposed to be your ride home, you trusted him, not to drink until he passed out. He promised you that.
You hadn’t had much luck finding him. You already had a gut feeling that you would need to find another way home. And sure enough, you find Patrick passed out on the couch.
“seriously pat?”
you practically yell.. thanks to the music. he wouldn’t wake up and honestly, you were done with this. You lean down and shake him. After a bit He managed to groggily wake up. His eyes fluttering in a drunken daze. Now if it were any other, night you would’ve known better not to drink, But he promised so much. It really did look convincing, so you let your guard down and became the reckless teenager you’re supposed to be at 17. Now the both of you were drunk. Certainly you weren’t as drunk as patrick, But still not sober enough to drive the two of you home.
“what’s the problem?”
patrick said in a slight drink induced slur as he sat up in the couch.. looking as if the slight movement physically pained him. she scoffed as she looks at him
“the problem? The problem is that you promised me you weren’t going to get pissed, now look at you! I can’t trust you with anything patrick.”
He just looked up at me. As if trying to find the words, but couldn’t. He tried standing, but instantly flopped back down onto the couch. She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a while. The guy she once loved was gone. Now all that was left was an almost empty hurt shell, drowning in deeply rooted, hidden addiction. She didn’t know how to take it.
And with that she walked away, She walked all the way home in the cold, late-night chill. Though the booze in her system, along with the deep hurt and worry in the pit of her stomach, kept her plenty warm or at least that’s what she told herself as she reached her house.
The next day. She knew she shouldn’t...that it would just end up in an argument but, she couldn’t help herself. She made her way to Patrick’s house. She’d be sure Hughie has dropped him off by now, since it was now nearly 12 pm.
“Patrick what’s gotten into you? please just talk to me, it’s as if you can’t go a day without drinking.”
She said. her voice cracking in rooted concern. He looked up and responded, His voice groggy and rough
“nothing’s wrong, just because I drink from time to time at parties doesn’t mean Im a alcoholic…you’re blowing it out of proportion.”
She just watched him, A hurt expression hit her face. Her voice cracking even more with each word.
“You’re lying straight to my face Patrick! It’s not time to time.. like I said it’s constant. every time I see you.. you’re drunk. please let me help, or let me in, something. I need you here with me.”
He got up, A look of drunken-stubbornness on his face
“You don’t know anything, You want the truth? I feel like you’re smothering me. Like I can’t catch my breath around you! I don’t need you to fix my problems for me, or better yet try and fix me.”
She studies his face, He was clearly still a bit drunk. She couldn’t help the pained expression on her face, Or the tears begging to be released from her eyes. Some managing to escape, the warm tears rolling down her cheeks. She choked down the giant lump in her throat and said
fine, If you really don’t need me then I guess I’m not your girlfriend anymore. But don’t you dare try calling me to say sorry or when you’re pissed and lonely.
And with that she walked out. Leaving the room she once called a second home, Now just an empty memory burning in the back of her mind. As she walked home Rain fell hard on the ground, The type of rain to get you drenched within seconds. Walking, She sobbed, The type of sobs that take all the air out of your lungs. They might’ve been stronger than the rain itself. Her clothes sticking to her skin, Hair weighing down her head. As she sobbed her teeth slightly clattered, The thick rain made it even harder to breathe, But sooner or later she made it home.
As the days went on She could clearly see Patrick wasn’t okay. He barley talked at school, He usually didn’t speak much, But it was getting to a point where his friends couldn’t even get him to speak .
Midnight She got awoken by the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at her alarm clock. 12:00 am
She groggily glanced at the contact, It was Patrick. She reluctantly picked up the phone.
“Patrick. Why are you calling me at 12 in the bloody morning.”
On the other end it was silence. Until i heard a groggy, slightly slurred voice.
“If I told you that I loved you, Tell me, What would you say?”
She sighed and said into the phone. A hint of anger rushing through me
“You’re drunk. You don’t get to say you love me anymore. You lost that when we broke up.”
She Then hung up the phone. Anger still passing through her, She had so much more to say to him.
The next night She found herself at the outlook Patrick took her, This is where They kissed for the first time, Where Patrick asked her out. All of it. She couldn’t hold it in any longer, She was sobbing again In the rain, It had been raining non stop for days now. She suddenly heard the sound of gravel moving. She turned around and there he was.
She just stood there, sobbing, letting the rain completely drench her. As she cried the words left her mouth
“I hate you so much, why can’t you just let me in, let me help. You’re a coward. I hate you s-“
She got cut off. Patrick had walked closer and pulled her into a kiss. It wasn’t Soft, or gentle. It was a plea. Rain soaking them completely. Patrick’s hands bunched up in my drenched shirt. Her hands in his hair.
he pulled back just enough to speak.
“I know i’m a coward, I’m sorry. I’ve been relyin on you. I’ll try, just Please don’t fully leave me. I Can’t handle that. I need you here with me too.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
authors note again !!
so this concludes this little story. like i said Im terrible at writing and just did this for my own boredom. There’s probably tons of grammatical mistakes in this so SORRY FOR THAT.. But yet again feel free to leave criticism if you do read this.😤😤😤😤
i lowkey took inspiration from my favorite writer on here.. so i’d say if you want better patrick feely fanfic go read the work done by @ moonyslipstick !!!🥹🥹🥶
summary | 1988 rolls around, school is back in swing, the main party is graduating while the older crowd is preparing for college. Steve stayed in Hawkins and became a coach, Robin attends smith college. Nancy started a journalist job…and as for Jonathan i find him at Nyu. and possibly an old romantic flame rekindles in the process.
authors note !!
this is my first time writing in a while..and it’s probably gonna be absolute dookie and i highly doubt this will ever be posted but yeah !! if it does get posted and anyone reads it, criticism is HIGHLY encouraged and wanted !!!!
♬⋆.˚ I want you - Pulp
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“it doesn’t hurt to say i want you, i need you.”
the wind was blowing in a soft almost calming whistle. The party was currently causing chaos as it was almost time for their last year of highschool. I was up in my bedroom packing for college. the same room i’ve lived in for the last 17 years of my life. I was currently packing things into giant brown cardboard boxes when i came across an old flimsy shoebox under my bed.
The box was filled with random things that held memory to me. until it wasn’t just random. I had come across an old photograph stuffed at the bottom of the shoebox. It was of me and jonathan..we couldn’t have been older than 15. We had barely started dating in that photo, we were at lovers lake enjoying a summer night together. I could instantly feel how the warm breeze felt on my skin, the dirt riddled with pebbles on my legs, the cold water flowing against my skin, the feel of Jonathan next to me. All the memories flooded back in. A slight tear trickled down my cheek, i quickly stopped it and shoved the photo back into the shoebox, shutting it tight and into a moving box.
a couple days later and I was officially on a plane, on my way to new york. I had dreamed of going to NYU since before i could properly write, and now it was happening. It was really happening. I sighed and watched out the window. As I left my home..my friends..family, everything i had to chase a dream i wasn’t even sure i could actually achieve.
a week or so later classes actually began. I was pretty much unpacked into my dorm..besides that shoebox. It was just sitting on my desk, as if it was haunting me.. okay maybe that was a little excessive, but still. I knew almost everything in that box was gifts from jonathan. And I knew there was probably some good things in there, whether it be letters, photographs, mixtapes, poems, hell i didn’t even know what was in store.. after all it HAD been quite the while since i had talked to Jonathan.. let alone dated him.
I had decided to ACTUALLY open it up and check it out. “what’s the worst thing that could happen?” I muttered under my breath as I padded over to my desk and picked up the shoebox. I sat back down on my bed, my legs crossed over each other. staring down the dusty old box in-front of me. I finally full sent it and opened it up. I read multiple letters and poems, each one filling me with a sense of nostalgia and longing that even I forgot i still had in me. I eventually made it to the mixtapes and the photographs which really left a mark on me. I came across a special addition of “I want you by pulp” Jonathan had gifted me for my sixteenth birthday.
I was walking around campus holding text books in my hands, I looked slightly sleep deprived but c’mon.. which college student wasn’t? All was going fine until “luck” came my way and I had accidentally bumped into someone…or more like they bumped into me. My books went to the floor, before i could even process what just had happened i looked down to see… Jonathan on his knee picking up my books while looking down and saying “sorry, i was in a rush and i wasn’t paying attention-“ He then cut himself off as he stood up..as he took a good look at who he had just bumped into.
“it’s no problem.” I said softly as he just looked at me. He looked at me and said.. still sounding a bit shocked “I..didn’t know you came to nyu.” I looked at him and tried defusing the tension by saying in a joking tone “you’re not the only one who wanted to go to nyu, jonathan.” I said it with a faint awkward smile.. the same one i gave when I first met Jonathan.. he definitely took note of that.
As the days went on i noticed jonathan was always where i was. If one thing was true… I guess he never fully beat the “stalker” allegations from high school. He eventually realized that I knew he was always watching and ended up asking me out for coffee, which resulted in us reminiscing on the past and looking toward to the future.
on the walk back we stumbled across a music store. Now we were both used to the same old music store joined book store back at home so this was pretty nice for the both of us.. We were both looking at the records.. Jonathan so close that our shoulders were rubbing against eachother and his breath was warm on my cheek, just like that nostalgic warm breeze from the lake. I slowly turned my head.. he was already looking. He looked from my eyes and slowly to my lips.. his adams apple slowly rising as he swallowed. He said softly.. almost a whisper “can i?”
I looked at him, then at his lips and nodded. He slowly leaned in and kissed me. A wave of familiar warmth hit my body, the feel of his lips against mine, nostalgic to the first day we ever kissed. The kissed began slow and gradually formed into a heated passionate longing filled kiss, Jonathan pouring all his emotion into it.. so did I.
That same night Jonathan stayed at my dorm. We were on my bed, The lights off.. the clock read 12:30 am. Jonathan’s head on my chest, fast asleep. the only thing that was able to be heard was the loud city and Jonathan’s soft content snoring.
The last thing that grazed my mind before sleep took over..Jonathan really was “all that i ever desired.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Authors note again !!!
-well that concludes this !! like i said this is my first time writing in a while !! I was never really good at writing.. especially fanfic but i was bored so yeah !! if there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes i’m sorry !!!😳😳🫱 also let’s pretend i want you by pulp existed when jonathan was canonically 16😤 i lowkey just realized it’s lowkey really rushed but uhm.. outta sight outta mind 💔
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