Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hi!!! Long time no post, I am currently in Italy and have been living my best life. I’m working on more fics, promise! (OFC I’m talking abt part 2 of Simon’s fic, I know it’s become a favourite!!)
Enjoy this cute one of gray in the meantime!
WC: 1428
Thanks to Tobias Hawthorne, about 42.3 billion dollars, and a mansion in Texas, your mornings look like this:
First: Breakfast in the small "informal" kitchen-mostly stuff that's buffet style, bacon, ham, eggs, toast (every kind, just in case you wanted to spice things up)
Then: going into your boyfriend's personal wing of the house to get your bathing suit on.
Lastly: Heading to the pool through the large mansion, past the top to bottom glass windows which gives a taste of the massive property, and the absolutely mind blowing pool complete with a water slide.
“Baby,” Grayson's hand slides up your back, the bathing suit cover keeping him from touching you skin to skin. “Hmm?” You look up, and meet his eyes. “You zoned out.” He says, “everything okay? You’re not dizzy from the day on the boat yesterday?”
The boat, you could laugh at how casual he says it. The “boat” in question was the yacht that you had taken out on the coast. Said yacht was also staffed and catered. So “boat” my ass.
“No,” You say “Not dizzy. Just thinking.” Grayson falls into step with you, hand now in yours. “About?” he presses “how insane this is….” you trail off, eyes on the huge windows again. “I just… Sometimes I find it hard to believe.”
Grayson nods slowly, his eyes on you and then on the scenery beyond the same windows you were looking out of. You knew he couldn’t relate. This was his life, his every day. But for you? And for Avery (AKA the reason you’re here.) This was something out of a dream.
Ah yes, Avery. She was currently applying sunscreen when you and gray walked out. She smiles “hey you, ready for a day of sun?” You smile and sit down on one of the many pool chairs that are scattered around. “Hell yeah.” you nod “excited to swim for sure.”
It didn't matter that you all swan yesterday, it was scorching in Texas. The middle of summer mixed with a heatwave coming through the south knows no bounds, and you more than anyone were thankful for the AC that Hawthorne house had.
Avery finishes with her sunscreen, and you undo the bathing suit cover. Halfway through you do get distracted by the sexy son of a bitch that is your boyfriend.
Blonde hair was blinding, pale skin had just that hint of suntan (grayson swears up and down he doesn’t tan, but there's a bit of color. Like a marshmallow that just touched a flame for a second.) The black ray bands suited him well.
And his abs? Oh boy, his abs.
There were no words to describe the absolute HUNK Grayson Hawthorne was, and he hid it all under suits most of the time.
“CANNONBALL!”
A splash, and Xander's laugh comes from the water as he surfaces. “Okay, rate that one nash!”
Nash wrote on the whiteboard in his hand, and turned it around.
“An eight?!”
“An eight,” Nash nods “I saw the form when you landed.”
Xander climbs out and walks back over to the diving board “okay, let me try again.”
You laugh, and slide on your own sunglasses. Ray ban like grayson, but not as structured. These were dainty in comparison but still matched.
“Sunscreen?” Grayson offers and you nod “yes please.” Grayson’s strong hands run over your back, up your shoulders, down your arms.
“Having fun?” You tease, he chuckles. “So much fun.” You finish putting sunscreen on you chest and neck, as well as your face.
Despite Grayson being methodical and persistent in his sunscreen application, you still saunter up and ask “need help?”
He nods “sure honey, I think my back needs some.” You take the container and squirt some along the top of his back, rubbing it in with… more excitement then normal, you make sure he doesn’t burn.
“Having fun?” Grayson echos your words, and without hesitation you slip a finger into the band of his swim trunks and snap.
“Hey!” He turns, already laughing.
“Sorry not sorry.” You grin, kissing him. Grayson kisses you back, smiling against your lips. “What am I gonna do with you?” He murmurs, hand wrapping around your waist.
You giggle, bravado now dimming with the way he looks at you. “Dunno,” you shrug “but feel free to kiss me like that again.”
He hums, and without saying another word, he picks you up. “Oh!” You squeak; grabbing onto him. “Grayson?!”
With little to no fanfare, Grayson tosses you into the pool.
You hit the water with a splash, and come back up to everyone else jumping in.
Soon enough it’s an all out pool party, music blasting, laughing and the sound of drinks being made.
You and Avery have already been down the water slide about 14 times, but who’s counting? Also, Avery owns the damn thing- she can do as she pleases.
Each time you and her have gone down properly, while the boys have just thrown cation to the wind and been going however they want; including backwards, on their stomachs, and two at a time.
With a surge of pure fun and excitement, you take a running start and basically throw yourself down the slide. With the momentum of said throw, you whizz down the slide. You come out the bottom with a huge splash.
You’ve gotten turned around when you shot out like a rocket, but you find the surface and pop up laughing. It stops when you realize your bikini top is floating away from you.
You look for Avery to help, but she’s already on the slide, so you call “gray?”
He’s at your side, bathing suit top in hand. “Looking for this?” He winks “how’d you know!” You laugh, hands over your chest as you keep everything but your neck submerged. “Call it instinct.” Grayson shrugs, coming around you.
“Instinct you know when my boobs are out?”
“Instinct cause I’m a great boyfriend who doesn’t think like that.” He fires back, playfully. “Sure.” You muse “we’ll go with that.”
You adjust the cups over your chest, and hold them to you as you get out of th water. “Tie please.” You hum to Grayson, and his nimble fingers instantly do as he’s asked.
One thing Grayson didn’t play with? Anyone else seeing you how he did.
Not in the sense where he’s a possessive bastard who refuses to show you off and let you soak up attention and praise but more in the “my girlfriends tits are out” kinda way.
Facing to the forest beyond the pool, back to everyone else lest you accidentally flash someone, Grayson does up your top.
“Good? Not to right on your neck?” He asks and you shake your head “all good, thank you.”
His hands trail down your back gently, fingertips brushing skin. “You’re welcome.” He murmers. You take half a step back, back now meeting his chest. The water droplets that run down his abs and biceps are cold, but it’s welcome in the heat outside and the heat slowly building inside you.
“Baby,” he warms under his breath “what are you up to?”
“Me?” You play dumb “nothing, just spending quality time with my boyfriend and his family.”
He hums, unconvinced. Neither of you move.
The water comes in waves as someone else comes down the slide, who? No idea. It’s not like you were paying much attention to anything but the feel of his abs contracting against your back.
Hands trail to your bottoms under the water, a single sliding under and snapping. Payback for earlier. You laugh “wow, that’s rude.”
You feel how chuckle more then you hear it. “That so?” Grayson asks “it’s okay if you do it, but not me?”
You nod “girlfriend privileges and all.” Grayson scoffs, repeating your words under his breath as he pinches your side.
You laugh, and as payback for both the pinch and the snap, you do what all normal sane people do to those who bother you.
You push your hips against his.
Grayson pauses, swallows and breathes out. “Jesus Christ.”
“Something wrong?” You ask, coyly.
“Nope,” he hums; hands barely skimming your side as he trails them up. Goosebumps erupt all over you. Grayson’s hands slide down your arms now, with a grip that doesn’t hurt but also reminds you who’s really in charge.
“Thanks for tying my top” you say, trying to get some control backs. He squeezes once, in warning or in response, you’re not 100% sure.
How 26 eight year olds "accidentally" adopted a SAS Lieutenant. (Simon Riley x fem! teacher reader.) (SFW)
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! teacher reader.
OOOOOO MAMA THIS IS MY MANNNNNNN THIS IS MY HUSBANDDDDD THIS IS THE FATHER OF MY CHILDRENNNNNNN. I am so normal about him. totally not batshit insane over him what so ever. Also, this is not a self insert because I am definitely not a teacher!! why would you even ask that, thats so weird. how dare you.
WC: 3264. (the absolute crack this gave me needs to be studied.)
November 11th was three months away almost to the exact day, and the entire classroom was scribbling letters to veterans and active members alike.
There was no telling if anyone would answer, but they wrote letters regardless. The board had instructions, as well as the big words some of the kids struggled to spell.
You sat at your desk, and graded last week's math test as the kids whispered to one another about what was going into their letters. The rules were simple, no personal information other than your name, age and grade, and don’t ask any gory or violent questions.
Most of the letters would involve something along the lines of “thank you for your service” and “is it scary being in a different country without your mom?”
Kid things.
A few would have questions about bomb sniffing dogs, or if they ever saw a gun go off (Both things, you knew the soldiers would have seen.) but eight year olds don’t know. They assume war is far far away and exactly how it's depicted in the movies their parents watch.
You had no idea what soldier would get your classes letters, if it would be someone with their own kids, and realize the backwards letters in marker were causing boatloads of homesickness, or if it would be a war hardened man who wouldn’t respond with anything other than a thank you.
For the kids sake, you hoped it was someone who would write more than just three sentences.
“Miss, how do we know who is gonna get the letters?” Clara asks and you look up “Oh, we don’t know.” Standing, you walk to the front of the room. 26 pairs of eyes follow.
“We don’t?”
“But how do we know someone's gonna answer us?”
“What if they don’t read our letters?”
You smile “someone will read them. I mail them out, and someone on their end hands them out to the soldiers. One soldier will get all of our letters and become our classroom's own inside scoop.”
“Woah.”
“Do you think he has a gun?”
“Miss what happens if no one answers our letters?”
“Someone will.” you promise “this program is for people who signed up to answer our letters, they want to.”
A moment of understanding passes over the class and all the kids look back down to their own handwriting asking questions only kids would.
“Alright,” You hum and look at the clock “do we need another couple minutes? Remember don’t write on the envelopes, I’ll do that for you.”
It's unanimous that the kids want more time, and so you sit back down at your desk and finish up grading.
Three weeks later, there they were. The bundle of letters was on your desk when you came in that morning. Each a uniformed grey, with a little stamp and the address of the school on it in neat handwriting.
They’re here.
Three weeks the entire class had been on edge, three weeks of “miss are they in yet?” and “Miss, do you think they’ll be in tomorrow?”
Three weeks of disappointed faces and excited chatter at all times of the day.
You go to the board, and clear off the first two blocks of the day, instead writing “Letters” in bold marker. They were gonna go nuts.
You find one addressed to you on top of the pile, and silently thank god the kids weren’t in yet so you could read it quickly-in case it was a “don’t ever send me another letter again” kind of message.
To your delight, it wasn’t. In fact, it was the complete opposite.
The soldier, who introduced himself as Simon Riley, wrote that he wasn’t great with kids but tried to answer their questions with as much detail as he could provide-and of course it was all appropriate for kids-
He revealed that he wasn’t much of a talker, but the questions these kids wrote were hard to not answer, in fact he kept thinking about them until he answered all of them.
All of them. 26 letters with a page of answers for every. Single. One.
Simon added that he would be inclined to keep responding to the letters, if the class wanted to send more. Gave him something to do during downtime when he wasn’t being annoyed by his teammates.
As if the kids would ever refuse something like this. They were gonna explode when they found out.
It was hard to keep the smile off your face when the kids came in, taking their seats at the desks. You couldn’t help but want to blurt out the good news when the kids put two and two together thanks to the change in their schedule.
Because of the excitement, you had to call out the names one by one, ensuring nothing got too crazy.
As expected, the kids go bonkers. Each of them squealing and grinning as they read the messages written to them by “Mr. Riley” as he became formally known by.
You walk around the classroom, listening to each kid as they pull you to read a sentence or show off a small drawing in the margin.
After the 6th kid, you realize Simon-sorry, Mr. Riley-has written back with each children’s name, answered their question and included either a small drawing or a funny joke.
This man… this soldier, has taken time out of whatever he was doing, or staying up late, to finish each of these letters and get them back to the classroom. Oh my god.
It's safe to say, the class loses their mind. And for the next part of the morning, it's all they talk about.
During recess, you take the time to write your own letter back. Thanking him for his service (again) and how thoughtful each of the letters were, alongside explaining how excited the kids were to receive the letters. You end the letter with your full name, instead of your regular teacher sign off, it just felt right.
The following day, your class writes response letters-now they know someone was on the other side answering. They dig in deeper. Asking about his own school, if he knew how to spell big words, if he had a dog.
A week later (were these letters being mailed out as urgent? That was fast for anyone's standards.)
“MR. RILEY ANSWERED.” someone shouts, pointing to the letters on your desk just after lunch.
Safe to say, he was a celebrity in less than a month. The kids ADORED him, and each of them felt they had their own bond with him. Each of the letters were written with the same type of tone, and Simon wasn’t talking down to any of them like some people do with kids, he was talking to them like people.
It becomes a thing-and now it's halfway into October, the classroom decorated for Halloween already. (your class was enthusiastic about holidays) the kids write, Simon responds. You always add your letters in, thanking him and wishing him well. He sounded more like an adult in his letters to you, adding little jabs and jokes about his team or your bosses. He was…god damn it, he was sneaking into your head when you were home alone, or when you were in bed.
This was going to become an issue for you, but it was nice to imagine for the time being.
The kids went nuts over every answer, reading them out loud to each other. “Listen, listen! I asked Mr. Riley if he had a dog, and he said ‘no. The dog would probably outrank me’… Miss, what does outrank mean?”
“I asked Mr. Riley what his favorite dinosaur was, and he said T-rex! That's my favorite too!”
“I drew a picture of Mr. Riley and his team and he said that one of his teammates has a mohawk! A mohawk! How cool is that? Miss, Miss, did you see the mohawk!”
It was safe to assume that Mr. Riley was the coolest person ever, and some of these kids held him on a higher pedestal then the state did.
You imagine an older man, maybe with a desk job now, but pulling these stories and funny jokes from when he was in active service. You knew Simon wasn’t retired, because he told you, but nothing could have prepared you for the letter you received the last week of October.
“I’m going to be on deployment for the next two weeks, won’t be able to answer. Tell the kids I’m sorry and to hang on tight until I get back.”
Deployment. He was active. He was an active soldier, going into battle and he was STILL keeping up with each and every letter.
You tell the kids about Simon going away for a bit and the energy in the room dips. Upset, but understanding, the kids wait. And wait. And wait.
You get an email this time, and your heart kicks starts-but it's not from Simon. It's from the association that put together this whole thing. For one second, one fleeting second, you assume the worst.
“Oh sorry, the soldier you and your class were speaking to has died in battle, please send letters to someone else.”
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. Simon was okay-at least, you assumed so. This email was asking both you and your principal if the soldiers the classes had been in contact with, could come and visit the classrooms.
Without hesitation you say yes, and add that your classroom soldier was on deployment, hoping that it didn’t matter much and they would work around that, instead of just ignoring your classroom.
You nor the kids would survive that.
The answer comes back two days later, Monday morning. A resounding “we’d love to have them!” from your principal and a promise to work around everyone's schedules, including Simons.
You write a letter to Simon for when he gets back, hoping everything works out.
“Dear Simon,
The class would love to meet you, but I know you are currently away. I haven’t said anything to them because I don’t want to get their hopes up, and if you don’t know, deal with the aftermath. They think you're the coolest person ever, and would love to meet you. If you do decide to come, we’ll welcome you with open arms. Please consider the offer but no pressure of course.
Wishing you the best,
y/n.”
“Y/n,
I’m writing this at 3am, I just got back from… where I was. I can’t tell you, but just know there was a lot of sand I didn’t enjoy. I said no to coming to the school originally, but I reread the letters the kids sent and changed my mind. I don’t know if they would have already sent in the list, but I will be there.
Thanks for reaching out, I’ve got all my limbs fyi.
Simon R.”
That letter gets tucked into your work bag. That's for you and you only. Later that night, you re-read it.
He said no. Then he changed his mind.
You won’t lie, when that finalized list came in, and Simon wasn’t on it-your heart sank. You were quietly devastated that day but refused to tell the kids. You wouldn’t ruin the image of Simon in their minds, even if they were told there could be a chance he misses it because Mr. Riley was on a mission.
November 15th, was the day the school was welcoming in the classroom soldiers. Every class had cleaned and each room had a “welcome to our class” banner they worked on the last few days.
Your class was… enthusiastic to say the least. Once the confirmation was given, you told the class about Mr. Riley coming in and they went insane. The banner was filled with drawings and messages, and there was a stuffed dog someone brought to remind Simon of the bomb sniffing dog he spoke of.
That morning was like trying to wrangle a bunch of sugar crazy, insane little animals. Even the quiet kids were talking amongst their peers, everyone was on the edge of their seats.
A knock.
The room goes dead silent, and all of them look at you, waiting to see what you do.
You walk over, and take a breath before opening the door. Since you had ruled out an older man with the desk job after Simon told you about the deployment, you really didn’t have an idea of what he looked like.
But nothing could have prepared you for who you saw.
Standing at least 6’4, in pressed uniform, was Simon. Tattoo’s covered both his arms and one of his hands, medals adorn his chest, and a hat in his hand.
You just stare at one another, your cheeks pink and his lips quirk. “Miss,” he nods his nice “I’m Lt. Riley, nice to meet you.” He holds out a hand and you take it slowly “it's so nice to meet you in person. I have-we have thought about you for a while.”
Nice save.
Simon’s lips pull into that half smile half smirk, and nods "I've thought about this class as well.”
You smile, eyes lighting up and Simon has to remind himself how to breathe.
“Miss?” one of the kids called “miss, is that mr. Riley?”
You grin, and swing open the door. “Alright, please stay in your seats.” Simon steps into the class behind you, towering over you. The entire class stares.
26 pairs of eyes are on him, on his uniform, his medals, the scar on his lip, at the hat in his hands. Little minds take in everything about the soldier standing in their classroom. He looks a little out of place with all the artwork and laminated reminders to sound out words and use punctuation.
“Hes huge.”
“Is that really him?”
“Why is he not in camo?”
The kids whisper and you lead Simon to the chair with the plush dog. “Cute.”
“It's my dog!” Sarah gasps “he said my dog was cute! Miss, did you hear?” You nod and smile “I did.”
Your hand stays on the back of the chair when Simon sits and he looks ridiculous in the small chair, but no one laughs. “I’m gonna get them to sit on the carpet, is that okay?” you ask quietly and Simon nods. “Yes ma’am, fine by me.”
Directing the kids to come and sit on their carpet seats, it's almost laughable how none of them can tear their eyes away from him.
“Okay” You hum “how about we start by introducing ourselves. Mr. Riley-is it Mr. Riley? Should we call you something else?”
Simon shrugs “mr. Riley's fine.”
“Mr. Riley knows us by our names, not our faces right? So let's go ahead and one by one tell him who we are!” you gesture to Karl “go ahead.”
One by one the kids introduce themselves, putting a face to the names that signed the letters. You watch as Simon files away their names, finally matching crayon drawings and knock knock jokes to each child.
Simon repeats them quietly, under his breath, you wonder if it's some sort of military memory training.
26 names, 26 hellos and how are you, 26 little kids looking at Simon like he hung the moon because of them? Answering their letters and being in the military was an equivalent to being a celebrity.
It's an open floor, for both Simon and the kids. They raise their hands but end up talking over one another in that clumsy, excited way all kids do.
He answers each question like it's the best question he’s ever heard. Simon takes them all seriously, and not because he basks in the spotlight like you might think, but because these kids and all their questions, they’re the reason his heart lurched when he found out about the deployment. They’re the reason he stayed up later than most to finish off writing so they have something to open when he is gone.
Hell, he was in the middle of the desert, taking cover behind some old rock, and was already thinking of ways he could make the story family friendly so he could share it with them.
Quiet students came up to him after that, whispering questions they didn’t want to ask in front of the rest of the class. Instead of answering for everyone, Simon whispers the answers back, and the kids smile when he respects their level.
Eye contact was a non-negotiable for Simon you found, everyone who asked a question got his undivided attention.
The entire time Simon spends in the class was taken up by the kids and their endless interest in him. He shows the few photos he can, some of his team (mohawk man was given a real name, which was soap, which the kids just about died laughing at.)
At the end of the day, you and Simon wave goodbye to each student and he takes home a folder full of drawings, friendship bracelets, and other artwork the kids wanted him to have.
“Well,” you say, sitting down in the now empty and quiet classroom. “Did you have fun? I hope they weren’t too much.”
Simon shakes his head “no ma’am, they were fine.”
“We’re off the clock now,” You smile, “you can call me by my first name.”
Simon nods and adds that you’ll have to call him Simon now. So you do, and he calls you by your first name like a man who isn’t sure he was worthy enough.
“How long are you in regular life?” you ask softly and he shrugs “as long as I want. I’m home for at least two weeks before I'm eligible for deployment again.”
“Well, if you ever feel like spending time in the classroom, we’d love to have you again.”
He nods “yeah, the kids are great. Teacher ain’t too bad either.”
You grin, and play with a spelling test on the pile “you flirting with me. Mr. Riley?”
“Simon.”
You blink, and smile softly “Simon.”
He shrugs “Ain’t very school friendly, but I figured we were in the clear with it being after hours.”
Humming, you nod. “Can’t argue with that.”
Simon watches you, he had the entire time. How you acted with the kids, how they revolve around you and all ask for your attention and you give it. You divide the attention and your time with each student, and remember little things about them.
They adore you.
“Are you free for dinner?” Simon asks bluntly and you meet his eyes “really?” He nods “I want to get to know the women who wrote me letters too, not just the kids.”
You blink, and blush “I'm not sure she’s very interesting.”
Scoffing, Simon crosses his arms, his biceps bulge. “I beg to differ, come on lovie, let me take you out.”
Well, how could you say no to that?
“Sure,” you reply, breathy. “Dinner sounds great.”
Simon hums and stands, you walk him to the door. “At seven, I'll be at yours,” he says. “How do you know my-?”
Simon pulls out a letter from inside his jacket, one you had written on your own time, from your place. He kept it.
“Read it whenever I felt like shit.” Simon reveals like it was nothing. “Had me thinking about you even in the desert.” You hold onto the doorframe, otherwise you’re sure you’d fall over. Simon smirks and nods at you again in a goodbye.
Guess where I pulled this one from? Thats right everyone! My very own, very old, wattpad account. I rewrote it just to update my writing style, but old me knew what she wanted and what she wanted was another traumatized, war ridden, sexy man.
WC: 1198
The room is quiet, and the bed is empty.
Still asleep, you reach out for your boyfriend-only to find his side of the bed cold. Your eyes blink open, blurry eyed and confused, you find the clock on the bedside table.
4:34am.
The light for the ensuite is off, so Bucky’s not in there and getting ready to climb back into bed with you.
You sit up, rubbing your eyes. It was too early for him to be on a run, so where was he? Pulling off the comforter, you slip out of bed. Feet hitting the cold hardwood, and your (his) shirt sliding off one shoulder, you open the bedroom door.
It was dark in the apartment you two shared, until you turned the corner. The lamp is on.
Your heart sinks, but you follow the lit path to where your boyfriend lays.
A single pillow and a shitty blanket is all that separates him from the hard floor. Heart breaking, you step forward to wake him up when he shoots up.
A step back, just because of how caught off guard you were.
Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, flesh hand carding through his hair. Sweat builds at his temple, one slipping down the side of his neck. His eyes reopen, almost… unaware look in the baby blues.
The dog tags you love, sit clenched in his metal hand.
“Baby?” You whisper.
His head snaps, eyes finding yours in seconds. He pauses, almost ashamed. “Go back to bed.” He turns away.
Instead of doing as he says, you walk closer. “Buck?” You try again softly, hand reaching for his knee.
He braces for something that never comes.
“James.”
That gets his attention. He sighs, low and sad, and finally looks at you. “Breathe with me?” You offer softly, watching the harsh way his chest rises and falls.
He nods, breathing uneven as he tries to seem calm.
“May I?” You gesture to his lap, wanting that comfort that comes with something weighted on him. You should have grabbed the weighted blanket from his side of the bed as well. You don’t move until he nods, giving you the consent to invade his space.
“C’me here.” He mumbles through wheezing breaths, flesh hand already on your waist. You settle into his lap, arms wrapping around his shoulders
“There we go.” You whisper in his ear, rubbing his back. “Breathe with me.”
You take slow, big breaths so he can copy, and soon enough you get him breathing okay again. Not shallow, not harsh, just… normal.
“Inhale,” You say, taking a breath. Bucky follows. “Now out.” You both exhale.
Smiling softly, you nod “there we go, good job.” Buckky doesn’t say anything, but his grip tightens in gratitude. “Are you okay?” You finally whisper after a few minutes of quiet. He looks up from where his metal hand plays with the bottom of your -his- shirt.
“Better now.” He shrugs and you nod “that's good.”
Its quiet again, and you play with the chain of the dog tags. He watches you, eyes soft.
“Can I ask you a question?” you finally say and he nods “go ahead.”
“Why do you sleep on the ground? When you have nightmares?” The question is soft, an unspoken worry that you’ll upset him.
He pauses and then says “I used to sleep in cold bunks during the war,” his hands occupy themselves by sliding under the shirt, onto your skin. “And then,” he goes on “when I was…the winter soldier,”
You rub his shoulder, hands warm on his bare shoulders “it's okay” you coo “you don’t have to explain if it's painful.”
“You deserve to know.” he counters “I just, it's hard.”
You nod,pushing hair off his forehead. Ever since he grew it out a bit more, pieces always stuck.
Taking a breath he tries again. “I used to sleep-well, not sleep but be…frozen. It was cold, and hard.” Bucky murmurs. “It just feels like after all I did, nightmares and sleeping on a hard floor is what I deserve.”
The air stills, and you must look horrified because he stares at you with a guilty expression. “You do not deserve that.” Even though your voice is soft, it's fierce. “You deserve comfort and warmth after everything you’ve been through.”
Bucky tries to argue, you keep talking. “Now I may not be a genius, or a history buff, but I know what they did to you, and how it wasn’t you at all. Do not start with the “I don’t deserve nice things” spell because so help me god, I will buy you another 45 blankets and make it everyone issue.”
You cup his cheeks, cradling his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “After what you’ve been through,” you whisper “You deserve everything.”
Bucky can’t break eye contact even if he wanted you. His blue eyes bore into yours, which were so full of love and so quick to defend him.
“Understand?” You ask softly and he blinks twice and then sighs. “Yeah. I understand.” You let him go, and reach to touch the tags-he pulls back without thinking.
“Was it… was it about the tags?” You ask, he nods. “The war. But tags were a part of it.” nodding slowly, you gently prompt “what happened?”
“I was back at camp,” his eyes go hazy, in a memory now. “With Steve. Someone came running in yelling about bombs.”
You run your hands over his shoulders and down his biceps, to ground him. Hands wrap around muscle and he relaxes a tad.
“They start raining down on us, going off left and right.” bucky goes on “couldn’t hide, couldn’t run for cover… I was stuck there.” His hands tighten on your waist, you don’t care. “Couldn’t find my tags, knew if I died they wouldn’t be able to ID me and I… that was my biggest fear.”
“Jesus.” You breathe “I’m so sorry.” He shrugs, like it was whatever. You capture his upper body in a hug. “I mean it.”
Bucky wraps his arms around you, taking a breath. “It's fine. Just a dream.” You tighten your hold on him, and pull back enough to gently press your lips to a few day old stubble. “I love you.” You whisper.
He hums, low in his chest and whispers “I love you too.”
“Do you want to go back to bed?” you ask softly and he nods “yeah.”
You both stand, bucky putting the blanket back on the couch, and hold the pillow. You take his hand. He towers over you even barefoot, and there's something comforting about the way he’s always over your shoulder.
You turn off the living room lamp with a click.
Back in bed, you curl under the covers again. Clock now reading ‘5:15am.’
You lay on your side, feeling him as Bucky climbs back in. His flesh arm wraps around your waist, pulling you to his chest, the metal arm under your pillow.
You hum in content, snuggling closer and he lets you, face tucked in the back of your neck. “Goodnight.” you whisper and he finally settles all the way in, completely comfortable. “Goodnight.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Monaco Grand Prix. (Grayson Hawthorne x Fem!Reader.) SFW.
Grayson Hawthorne x reader.
Based off a request! Thank you for the idea @heyyurl
WC: 1662
It was hot, both in temperature and because of the men around you.
Monaco on its own is stunning, looking like something out of a fairy tale. But Monaco with a Hawthorne? It's been bumped up by 100. Nothing has nor will, compete.
Grayson holds the passes, and your heels click as you walk beside him. Choosing a wedge so your feet don’t ache was a blessing, and god damn you looked good.
Cameras, fans, other celebrities, the entire place was packed. The Monaco Grand Prix was no small thing. People traveled from all over the world to be here for one of the most prestigious races.
“Wow” You breathe, because you’re a fan of F1 (both as a regular person, and as the girlfriend of a hawthorne) you’ve got opportunities you can’t fuck up.
Grayson smiles, just a touch, under his expensive sunglasses. “Even better than you thought?” You huff a laugh “something like that.”
The paddocks are all right there, like, two feet away. People in team kits walk around you-Mercedes, Redbull, wait a second, is that Bottas?
Your head swims.
Grayson leads you up to the top of a building-right, passes. And not just any passes, paddock club passes. Grayson hadn’t flinched at the price-nor had he even thought about just getting regular passes when you brought up going to a race in person.
To be honest, you had thought maybe you’d go to the Circuit of the America’s race, maybe even Canada-but Monaco? With the super models and the mega yachts? Looking back, you shouldn’t have been surprised, but you were-still are.
“Don’t forget after the race we have those dinner reservations.” Grayson helps you up the stairs, warm hand in yours. “How could I?” You respond, holding up your dress with your free hand “We’re only dining at the most expensive place in Monaco-like, ever.”
Grayson hums, prideful. “I had to give you the best experience." he says as if that's the only thing that matters. “I would have been fine with trackside tickets and a fancy bottle of champagne,” You laugh, “not paddock club passes and dinner at Hotel de Paris.”
With a wink, Grayson pushes his sunglasses into his blonde hair “Thats not how Hawthornes do things”
“Clearly.” You tease “I should have known better.” You take off your own sunglasses, and take in place around you. Its sleek floors are shiny, it's all open with a huge screen to show the race, even if all you had to do was look over the railing to see the thing in real time.
“Does it meet your expectations?” Grayson asks softly, arm sliding around your waist. You can’t even answer, utterly speechless. This was your life now. No more pirating the race or waking up at the crack of dawn to watch it.
You’re here. In Monaco. With a Hawthorne.
“Pinch me” you say. “What?” Gray looks at you “pinch me.” you repeat. So gently, it's not even a pinch at that point, Grayson does as you ask. “Still real?” he teases and you smile “still real.” The wonder in your voice is real too, so is the awe in your eyes.
He watches you look around, pure love and adoration in Grayson's usually reserved eyes. “Come on” he gently guides you “put your things down, lets go and say hello to people.”
You put down the bag you brought (empty now, but with the amount of merch you’re gonna buy-it won’t stay that way for long.) The Chanel clutch in your hand stays there, as Grayson leads you with a hand on your back, to say hello to people also in the club.
Hand shakes and polite conversations later, you’re begging Grayson to come down and walk around the garages with you.
“Alright, alright.” He gives in not two seconds later, Grayson can never say no to you. “Let's go.” Holding his hand, you two make it back down to the track and walk.
Drivers were already around, team principles too. To your surprise, people recognize you and Grayson, which you guess, isn't that hard to believe.
You’re giddy-actually you’re more than giddy, as you walk down. “Mr. Hawthorne!” Someone calls, you and Gray turn. Your jaw drops-Martin Brundle walks by “How are you today? Thank you for joining us!” He smiles, accent lifting. “We’re glad to be here.” Grayson answers, hand on your back. “Let me introduce you to my girlfriend.”
Martin smiles, and you do the same. “Nice to meet you,” you say as you shake his hand “You as well! What time are you rooting for today?”
You say Mclaren the same time Grayson says Redbull.
Martin laughs “Oh I see. Must be competitive in the house?” You grin “You wouldn’t believe.” Martin nods, wishes you the best, and then heads to the next person.
“Oh my god” You breathe “we just-I just-oh my god.” Grayson laughs, and guides you forward as you both start walking. “Come on, let's see who else can make you speechless.”
You skid to a stop outside the Mclaren garage, where both Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri are standing inside and talking to their team.
“Holy shit.” Grayson follows your line of sight and hums “oh i see.” You don’t even respond to the teasing, just keep your eyes glued to Lando as he talks-his head turns towards you-and he smiles.
He starts to walk over and you have to actually remind yourself to breathe. If someone had you hooked up to a heart monitor right now, they’d think you were having a heart attack.
“Hi!” you say as lando walks over “Hi” he smiles back “I’m a huge fan” you say, without thinking “like, huge.”
Laughing, Lando nods “thanks for the support.” You grin “yeah, of course. Literally anytime. I got into F1 because of your maiden win in Miami.” Lando’s smile somehow gets bigger “oh man that was amazing, I’m glad it got you into the sport.”
“Of course, literally I can’t imagine my life without it now. Would you be okay if we took a photo?”
Lando nods “of course!”
Without even looking, you shove your purse at Grayson, who opens your bag and grabs the phone. “Take the photo please!’
You stand beside Lando, his arm around your waist and yours around his. Grayson takes a couple and you turn to Lando, who hasn’t moved his arm yet. “Thank you so much! You have no idea how big of a fan I am of you and Oscar.”
Lando’s eyes light up “come on, I can introduce you to Oscar.”
“Oh my god yes please!” You take your phone back from Grayson and then walk off with Lando.
Grayson holds your things like the diligent boyfriend he is. You stay in the paddock for a few more minutes, before coming back out. New photos with you and the drivers on your phone, excited to show your boyfriend.
“Gray, honey look-”
His lips meet yours, hand spanning across your back. “Oh!’ You squeak but kiss him back. “Wait, baby, look at these photos!”
You show him the selfies you took with Oscar, and then a few of the photos someone took of you with both Mclaren drivers.
“They were so nice! Literally I can’t believe they took photos with me!” You gush as you walk back to the club. “That's nice.” Grayson says with a tone. You don’t notice, too excited to even consider it. “And Lando? I can’t believe I met him, let alone took a picture with me! He smelt like expensive cologne-which of course was probably Ralph Lauren since he’s sponsored-”
Grayson huffs, quiet but there.
You snap your jaw shut, and eye him “You… okay?” Grayson has his walls back up, face set in that regular “Hawthorne expression” he usually wears when you’re out. ‘Gray?” You reach for him, and he lets you take his arm. “Hey, talk to me.” you say softly, tugging him to stop.
He doesn’t look at you “it's nothing. I’m glad you’re happy.” You raise an eyebrow and then it clicks-the kiss, him wanting to have a hand on you “oh my god.”
His cheeks go pink “don’t start-”
“You’re jealous?”
He goes dead silent, and then mutters “no.”
“Yes.” you counter, grinning. “You are.”
Grayson, knowing this was a losing battle, sighs. “You said he smelt good.”
You can’t help but laugh, Grayson starts to walk again. “No, no hey” you’re still laughing “come on,” you take his arm, lacing your hands together. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease.”
Grayson guides you to the club as he says “you fangirl over him.” You hum “well I am a fan. But, that's no reason for me to just abandon you, I love you.”
That gets him, and Grayson finally lets the walls back down. His smile is soft as he murmurs “I love you too.” You smile now, soft but there. “Trust me, there's no reason to be jealous of Lando.”
Grayson hums and nods “fair, I am a Hawthorne.”
“Ooo okay ego” You poke him “calm down there,” Grayson shrugs “don’t think I will.”
You both entire the paddock club again, and it's busier then it was before, but you still manage to get a table close to the railing. Other people could watch the live stream, you wanted to see the real thing.
People come by to say hello to Grayson (and by proxy, you) but when the race is about to start, Grayson turns people away. “I’m not here for business,” he says “I’m here to enjoy the race with my girlfriend.”
You smile, there's a glass of champagne in your hand, and an appetizer on your table. Your heart races, Grayson’s arm is on the back of your chair as goosebumps rise.
The smell of gas, and the noise of the engines fills the air, and after all these years-you finally hear it live.
Impromptu Trip. (Grayson Hawthorne x Fem!reader.) SFW.
Grayson Hawthorne x AFAB! reader
Notes: Came to me in a dream and definitely has nothing to do with my upcoming Italy trip. nothing at all. SFW but there is some kissing (wink wink) and some talk of alone time (nudge nudge)
WC: 1237
Waking up beside Grayson Hawthorne is a sight you aren’t sure you’ll ever be good enough for.
Clearly though, some divine intervention believes you are, because guess where you are. That's right. In an Alaskan king bed, in sheets that are Egyptian cotton with some odd thread count, and a goose down comforter.
Oh and also Grayson.
Laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, his blonde hair (that he let grow out a bit so it's got that handsome, old money look to it) seems to glow when the sun filters through the curtains.
Rolling over, you trace a finger down his spine. Gray hums, low in his chest, but doesn't move. You do it again. He sighs like the world has finally quieted.
“Morning.” you murmur, shifting so you can kiss his shoulder, where a mole sits. “Morning.” he says back, finally moving to face you. Gray bumps your nose with his-a good morning kiss without the kiss.
“It's such a nice day,” You say softly “maybe it's a sign we should stay in the pool all day.”
Grayson nods, laying on his back now, abs out for you to admire.
And admire you do.
Sometimes it's hard to believe this is all yours. The man beside you, the way you’re sleeping in a real silk nightgown, the fact you can even have a pool day in the private pool.
“Baby?”
Grayson gets your attention, your eyes snapping to his “hm?”
“I asked if you wanted to go somewhere instead?” He asks and you nod “sure, like where?”
Grayson shrugs “maybe somewhere for breakfast?” nodding again, you move closer to gray, who opens his arm for you. He was still warm from sleep, even if the house had air conditioning in every room.
Gray liked it cold, you liked to cuddle, so it's a win win in both of your books.
“Where’d you want to go?” You ask, head on his chest. “Mmm, that nice cafe, I think.” he answers “the one in Trastevere.”
“Oh I liked th-” you pause. Wait a damn second. “Trastevere?” you shift so you’re looking at him “thats in Italy.”
“Yes.”
“We’re in Texas."
“Yes.” Grayson blinks “I don’t see the issue.”
“You don’t-” now you sit up “Explain to me how you’d like to have breakfast from a cafe in Italy when we’re in Texas."
Looking at you like you’re purposely being slow, Grayson says slowly “we fly there.” His tone indicates that this is clearly not a big thing, like this is normal.
“Fly there.” you repeat, deadpan. “You want to fly all the way to Italy, for breakfast.’
“We could stay for dinner as well.” Grauson‘s lips quirk and you shove him gently, smiling. “Don’t be a dick.”
He chuckles and catches your wrist. “Okay, okay” he tugs you back into him, forcing you to rest your head back on his bare chest. You go without a fight because of course you do.
“We could stay a week or so” Grayson goes on, fingers playing with your hair. “Stay in the villa, just us. Maybe a few staff members.”
A week alone with Grayson, no brothers, no Avery, no work. Just the two of you in a villa on a beach-with a view people pay millions for.
“Yeah” your voice is breathy “yeah, i’m so down.”
Grayson smiles down at you and then rolls over so he’s hovering over you. (not that you care, because the sight is literally jaw dropping.) “its decided then” he murmurs, lips over yours. “I’ll make the call, we’ll be on our way in a couple of hours.”
Whatever desire you had to spend those hours in bed with him, vanished. “A few hours?” you sit up so fast you almost bump heads with gray. “I have to pack-a few-Grayson!”
He watches from the bed, an amused look on his face while you grab the robe that matches the nightgown, tying it. “A few hours” You say again. “You know how long it takes me to pack!” You chuck a pillow that fell off the bed last night at him, Grayson catches it.
It shouldn’t have been that hot, but it was.
“You’re fine” Gray hums, getting up himself. “We can just buy things when we get there, you know.” You huff “I know that, but I like my clothes here. No point in buying an entire new wardrobe.”
Before he can come up with a reason why it's fine to do exactly that, you trail a hand down his chest. “Unless,” you drop your tone to something soft “You wanted me in nothing for the week?”
As big and bold as everyone made Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, he was still just a man.
He smirks, and kisses you softly. “You make it tempting.” he says, pulling back slightly “But this time, you’ll have to be clothed.”
“Shame” you pout, playfully. Grayson kisses the pout off your face “shame.” he echos. “But there's a private yacht with my name on it-if you play your cards right, we could spend a day out there.”
Tempting, oh so very tempting.
“And,” he goes on, fingers dancing across your waist to pull you closer “no one else is there, I’ll send the crew off-give them the day.” you tilt your head as Grayson's kisses move from your lips to your jaw-Jesus Christ this man.
“Just us.” he murmurs against you “no one around for miles.”
Your hands clutch his biceps, nails digging into skin. He doesn't care, neither do you.
“Bring that two piece I like” he murmurs against your neck “Promise I won’t rip it like the other one.”
Your knees go weak, Gray holds you up. Your hands are probably hurting him but that's the last thing on your mind.
“Asshole” You breathe “I liked that one.” He chuckles, it comes out low, strained. “I know,” he murmurs, pulling away to look at you. “I liked you better without it on.”
You laugh-taken aback “Grayson!" He shrugs “what? It's true.”
One last kiss and then you have to push him away because if you didn't? You wouldn't have time to pack.
“Behave?” its supposed to come out as a command, but it ends up leaving your mouth as a question. Grayson grins “Fine.” he walks into the closet “I will.”
You put your palms against your cheeks-hot. Of course they were, Grayson was impossible to be normal around. Following him into the closet, he was already pulling shirts out. You turn to your side, and start picking clothes for a week in Italy.
“Can’t believe we’re doing this all because you wanted breakfast” You say over your shoulder and gray hums “can’t believe you’re coming with me.”
“As if I'd pass this up.” you laugh “a trip to italy and a week with you to myself? Say less.”
Hands settle on your waist, a chin rests on your shoulder. “It is exciting.” he says and you lean back into him. “Very.” you agree “very spontaneous as well.” he hums “true.”
With a kiss to your shoulder, Grayson goes back to packing his stuff. You change into an airplane outfit, something casual and comfortable for the long trip ahead of you.
“Ready?” Grayson takes your luggage, giving it to the staff by the front door. You nod “Yup, you?”
He nods and brushes a kiss to your head as he leads you to the black SUV “Very.”
The cure for a horrible manager? Your boyfriend's black Amex. (Grayson Hawthorne x Fem!reader!) SFW.
Notes: Enjoy this little piece I came up while day-dreaming about Grayson (what else is new tbh) I'll never be over him!!! He is the true LOML. PHOTO FOUND ON PINTEREST! (linked)
WC: 1596
Grayson Hawthorne x reader.
Working for charities? Horrible. Don’t recommend.
Okay, that's a bit harsh. It’s not… horrible but it’s not all rainbows and roses either. You and Avery know that better than anyone. Now, while you have wonderful friends who work at said charities, there’s one woman who just vows to make your life miserable.
Avery, who’s held her head high no matter what, is beyond agitated now, so it’s up to you to just get home and decompress.
The entire car ride home, you and Avery talked up a STORM to Phil, the driver. He’s been around for a while, and with two teenage daughters, he’s no stranger to a good old shit talk. “It’s been since we came here.” You say, sighing. “She’s got it out for us.”
“She’s got it out for us because we’re with the boys,” Avery crosses her arms. “Evil, horrible, women.”
Ah yes, the boys.
Jameson and Grayson Hawthorne.
Relationships pop up in unexpected places and this was no expectation. Grayson weasled his way into your life, and you were powerless to stop it.
The shit talking took a turn, and when Phil pulls up in front of the house, the mood is foul.
“Hey baby,” Jameson greets Avery. “Hi.” She answers back, in a flat tone. You follow quietly behind her as she walks to the kitchen.
“Hey,” Grayson reaches out, his hand wrapping around your wrist. “Talk to me, what's wrong?” You sigh as he lets go of your wrist. “Bad day.”
“Susan?” Jameson wonders.
“OF FUCKING COURSE IT WAS SUSAN.” Avery yells from the kitchen. “IT’S ALWAYS FUCKING SUSAN. I HATE HER.”
She storms in, two bags of chips and tosses one to you. You catch it. “She’s out to get us, I swear.” You say to the brothers, who nod. Avery stands with chips in hand, and she spills it all.
How we were sitting at a conference table-alone might you add- and we were laughing quietly. Susan storms in, and screams at us for being loud, and disrupting everything and how we shouldn’t even BE there.
Your cheeks are red with embarrassment and annoyance, just like they were when it happened.
Grayson’s eyes go dark, and Jameson’s jaw ticks as you and Avery recount the story. “We can get her fired.” Grayson offers.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Avery and you speak at the same time. You sigh “it’s… this is her source of income, we can’t just… fire her.” you explain, cursing yourself for being empathic towards that vile woman. “I just wish we didn’t have to talk to her in order to do our job.” Grayson hums and pulls you closer, hand on your hip. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t talk to you unless absolutely necessary.” He then stands up, Jameson following. They both leave.
“Oh. um, okay?” Avery says as she watches them leave. She’s calmed down now, more so exhausted with the situation then angry. We just stood there, a bit confused.
The boys come back, and Grayson’s already talking. “We would come with you,” he says, “but someone messed up the numbers, and we’re swamped.” He files through his wallet. “Take this, and go buy yourself whatever you want.” He passes you his black card.
He leans in, kisses his cheek. “After the day you’ve had, you deserve it.” You smile, ducking your head. “Are you sure?” he nods, hand cupping your cheek. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jameson do the same for Avery, and he kisses her cheek.
You and Avery go upstairs, abandoning the chips and drinks in favour of getting dressed to hit the designer stores.
Coming back down, you find a quick second to sneak back into the dining room, kissing Grayson's forehead. “Thank you.” you whisper against him and he snakes a hand to yours, squeezing as if to say ‘you’re welcome’. Even if his eyes don’t leave the paper.
Avery meets you at the front door, and you pile back into the black SUV, Phil amused at the sudden turn around. “The usual?” he asks and you both nod. “please and thank you.” Avery hums.
The two of you sit in the car, shaking off the day and getting excited for the shopping spree. Nothing good old retail therapy can’t cure.
The mall is a district of high end shops, from high end names. Chanel, Prada, Burberry, YSL, Gucci, etc.
You name it, it's here.
“Well,” You hook your arm through Avery's as you stand at the entrance. “Which catches your eye first?” She looks over the few shops directly in front of you two. “Hmmmm” the sound is low in her throat, thinking hard over the decisions of someone with an unlimited credit card. “I think Chanel.” she nods towards the doors. “I’ve been meaning to buy a double of the pullover-this time in cream.”
The two of you walk in, and instantly everyone in the room turns to you. “Miss. Grambs!” A woman smiles “Miss. L/n, how lovely to see you both.”
You smile, and someone else takes the coat off your shoulders, something you’ll never get used to. Shopping with Grayson, it's easy to hide behind his name - to just be the girlfriend. But here? You and Avery are the closest thing the workers are getting to the Hawthornes.
So you’ll drink champagne and look at clothes you couldn’t have dreamed of 3 years ago. You admire shoes, heels that are worth your parents house back home, and your heart didn't skip a beat when you swipe the black amex (at least, not in the way it used to when you and Grayson first started dating.)
There is no lingering spenders guilt, or buyers remorse as you and Avery enter and exit each store. Bags and bags on your arms.
Men in suits come and load the batches in the car and Phil, bless him, watches with amused eyes.
“What do you think about this?” You hold up a birkin. Avery scrunches her nose “that color?” She eyes it “I thought you wanted neutrals?”
You sigh “I do. I just thought a pop of color would be fun.” You turn to the worker “what do you think?” She hums “whatever you think is best, is what I think.”
Right. These workers don’t have opinions on anything you end up getting. They’re all very… agreeable. Which is fine! Just… annoying when you want a second opinion.
“Maybe I’ll wait for gray.” You put the purse back on the counter, the baby pink with gold hardware was stunning. But it's a big purchase.
“Maybe.” Avery says from where she sat. “he’ll probably want to be around when you get your first Birkin.” You look over at her “Right because it's a big deal for a man.” Avery laughs, standing. “Okay, men don’t really care. But this is for you-so Grayson's going to want to be here.”
You smile softly “yeah,” it's breathy, soft. “He would.”
The shopping spree ends with a bill higher than you can count, and dinner at a small wood open pizza place. You and Avery are tucked in the corner, spitting pizza and salad. The conversation is light, meetings coming up, date ideas, her trip to Greece, your trip to the Monaco grand prix in a few weeks.
You get home and its dark. Grayson and Jaime are no longer in the dining room, and so you go to his wing. There, under the shut door, lights are on in the office. You knock.
“Come in.”
Pushing it open, you smile. “Hi, are you busy?” He looks up and instantly, Grayson Hawthorne looks his actual age. “Nah,” his smile turns boyish. “Come here.”
You sit in his lap, getting comfortable. Pulling out your wallet, you give his card back. “Here you go.” Grayson takes it, and sets it on the desk. “Thank you, did you have fun?”
You nod “lots. I have a dozen bags or so.” He laughs and nods “good, I expected nothing less.” his lips brush your hairline “did you eat?”
“Mhmm, pizza.”
“Mm good choice.” Gray smiles at you, soft. “I’m sorry,” he says “that I couldn’t come with you. You deserve to rant to be about your day, not to have me throw my card at you.” You run a gentle hand over the back of his head. “Don’t be sorry, you were busy.”
“Yeah,” he sighs “but you’re my girlfriend. Work could have waited.”
“Work waits for no one.” you shrug “it's okay, really. Honestly all you missed was my debate over a Birkin.” He raises an eyebrow “I thought you wanted the tan one?” You laugh, and shrug “I saw a pink one.”
Now he laughs “Oh well, I should have known. You’ll always choose the pink one.” Smiling, you shake your head. “I wanted your opinion on it. On if I should get the tan or the pink one.”
“Honey,” Grayson's eyes meet yours. “Get both.”
“Both?”
“Bnoth.” he nods “I can afford it, hell-you could get one in every color and I wouldn’t bat an eye.” You tease him by saying “Don’t test me with a good time.” He grins and kisses your cheek “we’ll go back tomorrow, you can spend the entire day in the store. I’ll shut it down for you.”
Butterflies erupt throughout your body. OH grayson hawthorne, you think, how did I get so lucky.
The look on his face is soft, peaceful, as he whispers “thank you for understanding.” Laying your head on his shoulder, you whisper back “You’re welcome, my love.”
That Boy is Corrupt. (Luke Castellan x Reader.) SFW.
(Once you read the fic, this gif will be funny i promise.)
I had a comment on AO3 in which i got possessed and wrote this fic in like, 2 hours. You know who you are, and I love you. Not to mention another Sabrina song fic!! Can't get enough of these tbh.
WC: 903.
You stand there, face fallen as Luke walks away from you.
That horrible orange you thought he looked good in, was suddenly absolutely hideous.
“What the…” You rack your brain.
What the hell just happened?
In the span of 10 seconds, you went from 1 half of the hottest couple at Camp Half-Blood, to a newly single, sad-looking camper.
“Hi, I hope you’re great. I think it’s time we took a break.”
Those are the words that swirl around your mind.
They’re coated in tears and despair as you get to your cabin and slam the door behind you.
A break??
A BREAK?
You see each other for two months out of the year and this motherfucker is asking for a break?
Now you’re mad.
“So I can grow emotionally.”
Luke wouldn’t know emotion if it slapped his ass and called him daddy, what the fuck does he mean??
Lying in bed, it's angry tears that slip down your cheeks.
Sure, you’re sad, you and Luke had been going strong for about three years-which reminds of how often you cried over him; what he said, what he did.
“Here we go again, crying in bed, what a familiar feeling. All my friends in love, and i’m the one they all for a third wheeling”
The tears soak your pillowcase and you huff.
This was not how you saw your day happening, and honestly? Fuck him.
Who does he think he is? Playing around with your feelings and then ending it because he needs to “grow”?
Who does something like that?
It doesn’t help that while you and Luke were technically together, he never wanted to hang out with your friends. So you sat there, third wheeling-hell even, fifth wheel.
“Probubly should have guessed, he’s like the rest, so fine and so deceiving. There’s nobody’s son, not anyone left for me to believe in.”
That's what you get for thinking you could change a son of hermes.
That cabin is KNOWN for being players-and yet you went and fell for the one that everyone strayed away from.
You thought you could change him. Maybe you would be the one who pulled Luke away from that playboy, flirty lifestyle he seemed to thrive on.
What a stupid, handsome, deceiving camper he was.
He knew he was hot and he used that.
A week or so after the…break up (god you hate that word) You decide fuck it, i’m gonna go out on the town (camp) and look for some eligible bachelors.
Well, news flash; there's none.
All of a sudden, it seems everyone at camp is taken or doesn’t want a relationship.
“Me? No, Yeah, I'm good. Just thought that he eventually would cave, reach out.”
Luke was stubborn, another trait of Hermes. (or was it? You don’t know, but you’re blaming Hermes for it all.)
It’s not like you didn’t try, you really did give it your all.
The best outfits, the flirty smiles around a campfire, the flash of skin when swimming.
Everything that used to make Luke drool when you were together was no longer cutting it.
Your friends and your siblings were getting tired. Hearing about Luke when you were a couple was bad enough, but now? Now it’s all you could think about.
And not like you wanted him back (You do) cause you’re totally over him. Fuck him. (fuck him)
“But no siree, he discovered sеlf-control (He discovered it this week) This week (Oh, ah)”
This was insane.
Halfway through summer, four weeks after the break up, and you’re single, he decided that his new nickname would be “mr. self control.”
“I’m telling you, he’s doing this on purpose!” You say to the younger siblings sitting in your cabin.
“He wouldn’t know self control if it literally walked up and introduced itself.”
They stare at you, confused but getting the vibe that it’s better not to ask questions.
“Self control is… bad” one says and you nod “it is. Self control is not in Luke's vocabulary.” They nod, a little scared, and you walk out of the cabin.
You need to go to the training ring and hit something.
“That boy is corrupt.”
SMACK.
“Could you raise him to love me, maybe?”
It was a low blow to be praying up to Hermes, but it’s his son and he needs to fix him.
“He sure fucked me up.”
SMACK.
SMACK.
“And yes I'm talking ‘bout your baby.”
The voice in your head turns snotty as you pray.
That's his son.
That's your son Hermes, fix him. Your favorite son is an asshole who decided that he was better off without me. Fix it.
“That boy is corrupt.”
SMACK.
“Get PTSD on the daily. He sure fucked me up.”
SMACK.
SMACK.
Arms shaking, you decide to stop the absolute hell you were raining on the poor test dummy.
The one that's now on the ground with various fake limbs missing.
You cringe and try to prop it up so that no one wonders who’s the weirdo who absolutely demolished a training dummy.
Walking to the showers, towel over your arm, you sigh. Gods above, Luke’s really not leaving your head -and aphrodite help you, no one else is catching your eye.
The water’s hot as you step under it, and close your eyes again, tuning into Herme’s prayers one last time.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hiiiii this took me forever but I'm happy with it! This can be read as gender-less/any gender reader and if for whatever reason there's a pronoun in it, or smth that alludes to a fem/male reader let me know so i can fix it!
Happy Reading!
WC:878.
The bed is soft, so soft you could sleep forever. It smells like clean laundry and distinctly vacation smell-the one where it’s just off enough you know you’re not at home. The goose feather pillows cradle your head, and the covers lay perfect.
This was quite literally, the best sleep of your life.
For once, there was no conch waking you up at half past seven, or little kids wanting comfort, or to talk, or -gods forbid- the slam of a cabin door when fights broke out among siblings.
Rolling over, you reach for the other side of the bed, the side normally taken up by your very handsome, very sexy, very-
He’s not here.
You blink your eyes open, and the sun is shining. Shit, what time was it?
The clock on your side says 10am, could be worse. To your defense, sleeping in at camp half-blood was never a thing, so you’re just… getting those hours back.
Sitting up, the room is at a perfect temperature, and the clear skies from the floor to ceiling windows show off the stunning view of the ocean.
Only one thing missing, okay maybe two; your boyfriend and a mimosa. You stretch, pjs soft against your skin. The bathroom door was open, so Luke wasn’t in there.
Weird.
If he wasn’t in the bathroom, and there wasn’t any morning training he told you about (He tried to keep his mornings open for the two of you to have breakfast together-but sometimes you can’t help things.)
Sitting in bed, you reach over for your book. If given the chance, why wouldn’t you take a quiet morning to read before heading down to watch demigods train? Also, not that you’d tell Luke, but monsters being so close made you a little worried.
So sue you, for wanting a second alone.
The pillows behind you prop your back like a glove, the natural light is in the exact place you need, the book is at just the right point to suck you back in.
A good 45 minutes pass, with a considerable chunk of your book read.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Slipping from the bed and putting on your slippers, you walk to the area of the suite.
Again, no Luke.
Was everything okay? Did something happen? He would have told you, would have woken you up and made sure you were safe before anything.
While the distant music made the entire thing feel like a vacation, the edges were starting to fray.
“Luke?” you call out, head popping out to the deck.
Nothing.
“Luke?” You try again, louder.
Nothing.
You throw open the suite doors, ready to start barking orders at the demigods who stand guard outside. (another one of Luke's orders.)
“Babe?”
His voice, oh god his voice. It was calm, albeit a bit confused.
“Luke.” you breathe, and realize just how frazzled you were. “I thought-I-” you swallow. “Hi.”
He eyes you as he steps closer, now in the doorway with you. “Hi.”
Taking him in, jeans and a navy blue quarter zip, face untouched except from the scar-that quest feels like forever ago.
The demigods outside the door shift, awkwardly. Luke clears his throat and gestures for you to go back inside the suite.
“You are okay? Did something happen?” he asks when the doors are shut behind him. “No” you say “No, sorry. I just couldn't find you.”
His lips quirk “baby, i was gone for an hour and a half.”
Frowning, you mutter “well how was i supposed to know that.”
Luke chuckles, and takes you into his arms. “Sorry” his lips meet the crown of your head. “I should have left a note.”
You nod against him, hands around his torso. “You should have. Where’d you go, anyway?”
He tenses. You notice.
“Luke?”
“Annabeth called.”
Now you tense up, eyebrows raising. “What?”
He sighs “she iris messaged me.”
“Oh.”
He huffs out a laugh “yeah, oh.” he lets go of you and heads back to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge. You join him. “You’re doing the right thing.” you whisper, hand taking his. “She’s a kid-they’re all kids. Young and dumb and believing in our parents.”
He shakes his head “I want her to understand. I want her to know I'm doing this for us all.”
“I know” you coo, “i know. She’ll come around, I’m sure of it. You know how Annabeth gets.”
Luke hums, falling back onto the bed. “I know.”
You lay down next to him and take his hand. “This is a good start, she’s reaching out to you.” nosing his cheek, Luke leans into you. “You still care about her, she’s important.”
He sighs “Not to me-it’s the fleece I want.”
“I know, that's what i meant. Important to the quest”
“And I wasn't…caring, when I called her. I’m not the older brother she used to have-not when I’ve seen what I have.”
You think it over, it was true. Luke left the older brother persona back at camp.
“Then why the iris message.?” You ask, and his eyes flick to yours. The gold flecks catch the light in a stunning way. They were new, but Luke was still yours despite it.
His lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. One that is opposite of the words he whispers against you. “That was recon.”
AWWW YEAH BABY GUESS WHO'S BACK AND STILL IN LOVE WITH THE BASTARD HIMSELF.
This is so self indulgent idk sorry? Hope yall enjoy it as much as I do because WOOF i love him.
WC: 971
The music is blasting, some stupid vacation tune that seems to rally up the middle-aged white women.
Kids laughing, people talking, water splashing.
The vibe of the Princess Andromeda was immaculate; it was what everyone wanted from a cruise.
Monsters roamed covered by the mist, and demigods alike were all relaxing and for the first time, just… being normal.
The sun was hot, and you were basking in it.
On a lounge chair with sunglasses on, this was the life. A fun day, a mai tai next to you, a sexy boyfriend upstairs…
What else did you need?
Nothing would ruin this-
“Is that Percy Jackson?"
Your blood runs cold, you force yourself not to react the way you want to. (which was shooting up and ripping off your sunglasses, and then-screaming.)
Instead, you blink and turn your head towards the redhead next to you.
Alison Sims, the one who shot an arrow with the precision of only an Apollo kid who trained at Camp Halfblood.
“What?”
She turns to you, her own sunglasses sliding down her nose. “I swear to gods, I saw Percy Jackson.”
In turn, you look at her over your own sunglasses. “You’re sure?” She sends you a look, one that you pocket to tell Luke about later.
You and Alison got along fine; she was a couple of years older. Same age as Luke, and boy, did she not let you forget it. Despite her insistence that she didn't, she cozied up to Luke.
And sure, anyone would if given the chance, he was the lips of Kronos at this point in time.
But gods damn it, sometimes you can’t stand her.
“I’m sure.” Alison says, setting down her magazine. “Annabeth was with him too, and that cyclops kid.”
“Tyson.” His name slips out from between your lips, knowing the same from when Luke was talking about how Posiden claimed him.
Grabbing your pool bag, and your cover up. “I’m going to Luke, follow those kids.”
Alison nods, and sits back so she can watch the trio walk around the deck.
You start to walk away-but come back for your drink. That mai tai is not going to waste.
Walking towards a service elevator, you throw your cover-up over your bathing suit. You push your sunglasses up and take out your golden card. Tapping it, the doors open, and you head up to Luke’s suite.
Knocking, one of the demigods opens it. “Hi,” he says and you smile “hi, Luke’s in here?” The demigod nods.
You walk in as you sip your drink, and Luke’s out on the balcony. “y/n/n.” He says without turning and you hum. “Luke,”
You join him outside and offer him a sip; his lips quirk. “Another?” you scoff, “don’t judge me. I still have the information about the pina colad-”
Luke silences you with a sneaky kiss, one that has both of you smiling. “Good one,” you whisper and he chuckles.
“What brings you up here?” Luke asks as you both come back inside. “Unless of course, you’re here to ogle me?” this time you laugh. “Well, as much as I'd like to… we have a problem.”
That catches his attention.
“What kind of problem?” Luke's voice lowers into a serious tone.
“A percy jackson sized problem.” Alison storms in. “him, annabeth and cyclops-”
“Tyson.” you and Luke correct.
“Tyson.” she nods. “They’re outside listening.” Alison gets her bow, and the four other demigod kids that followed her all grab their weapons before throwing open the suite doors.
Like straightens his sweater, and you smooth the white collar over it. “You talk to them.” you say softly “i’ll stand back until we know.”
He moves towards the door, and you can hear the conversation. Percy and Annabeth are good kids, you spoke to each at length… but this? This was a different environment from camp, in a different age now.
Finally, after having enough of just listening in on a conversation you should be in, you step out and into the doorway.
“y/n?”
Percy and Annabeth both say and Tyson just looks at you.
“Hi.” You say, and both kids sputter.
“What are you doing here?”
“Are you okay?”
“Did he force you?”
“y/n don’t you see-”
“I’m here on my own free will.” you put your foot down. “I’m here, because I believe in this.” You look over at Luke, who slow blinks. A sign of thanks, of trust. “Luke didn’t force me into anything, if anything, he opened my eyes.”
Percy interjects “y/n, the gods-”
“Are already fighting.” Luke steps forward. Percy stops. “...what?”
“It’s true,” you agree and stand side by side with Luke. “The gods, they’re absent-as usual-but it’s more this time. Don’t you see? The gods have started fighting-the war has started.”
“You’re wrong.” Annabeth’s eyes are intense, but they soften as you look into them.
“Are we?” you ask softly. You didn’t want to rip the poor girl apart or destroy her entire life in one afternoon. “Annabeth, we both know-”
“I don’t know you anymore,” she spits. Luke’s hand settles on the low of your back, a silent anchor. “You’re right,” you nod, “But you could.”
“Join us.” Luke says “We have demi-gods here, we’ve got monsters here-we’re all the children of the gods.”
“Never.” Percy’s back again, Luke sighs. “Don’t you see it, Percy? We’re in a war, now we have to decide what side we’re on.”
Percy refuses to see it, to admit it.
To understand what you and Luke already know.
“Don’t you see it?” Luke tries again, head held high.
“See what?” Tyson finally speaks up, his one eye going between everyone in the hallway.
Luke hums, light bouncing off his scar as he kisses his teeth. “The great awakening has already begun.”
"In the Library." (Henry Winter X Fem! Reader.) SFW.
Henry Winter x reader.
WC: 776.
The library at Hampton didn’t have many students in it unless it was midterms, finals or the annual assembly of how students should prioritize their health and not smoke on campus.
Then everyone was busy studying somehow.
However, the five person table at the back corner, closest to the giant window, was always full. There sat the strange group that no other student dared to speak to-but always spoke about.
The small group were students of Julien Morrow, the oddball professor with a taste for a Greek tragedy or two, and who only let a small number of students into his classes. Professors hated him, students didn’t care about him and the Dean was neutral since Julien’s paycheck went right back into the school.
“Charles please,” Camilla sighs at her twin. “You act like this is some sort of torture.” Groaning and leaning over onto the table, he mutters “Because it is.”
Books and paper were strewn about on the dark oak table, pens in hands as the group worked through a reading Morrow gave them. “You’re being dramatic.” Henry says, not looking up from his book. “Oh yeah? Where's your homework then?” Charles lifts his head to stare at the black haired boy. “I did it the night it was assigned.” Henry answers.
“Oh?” Francis tears his eyes away from the window. “I thought you went for dinner that night.” Bunny grins “Oh are the lovebirds fighting?”
That got Henry’s attention. “No.” He replies evenly, eyes on Bunny. “We aren’t.”
Bunny just smiles and jabs Charles with his elbow “Trouble in paradise so it seems.” Henry sighs, not falling for the bait. “I don’t have to explain my every waking move to you.” He says as he reopens the book. “I suppose you’re right.” Francis hums, “Though it’s a lot more entertaining than some of the readings.”
Camila smiles “It’s romantic is what it is.” Bunny hums “Or dirty.” He looks at Henry-who’s face is schooled into a calm expression “Come on champ, give us the dirty details-”
“Details of what?” A voice asks. You sit down in the spot between Henry and Camilla.
Henry’s eyes track you as he says “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Charles and Francis hide their laughs by sticking their heads into a textbook and Camilla smiles at the girl “Hello,” You smile back, “Hello, Cam.” You then turns to Henry, who leans in and briskly kisses her cheek “Hello darling.”
“Hi handsome,” You hums.
“You two disgust me.” Bunny mutters and You laugh. “Oh Bunny, you just haven’t found the right girl.” He rolls his eyes. Charles gets your attention by asking, “Have you finished the readings?” You nod. “Yes. Henry and I did them the night it was assigned.”
“Oh, interesting.” Bunny muses, quite dramatically. You raise an eyebrow “... Why?” You turn to Henry, who finally shuts his book with a sigh. “He thinks we’re fighting.” You blinks “What?”
“He thinks we’re fighting because we were supposed to go to dinner that night.”
You turn to Bunny “Did you also want to know what time I go to sleep?” You tease “Jesus Bunny, you’re like a parole officer, having to know our every move.” Bunny frowns. “You sound like Henry,” he mutters.
“So, what were you doing that night?” Francis asks and you shrug “We decided to stay in. Do some homework so we didn’t have to worry about doing it at the last minute like some people.” You grin.
“Yeah, yeah.” Charles grins “Will you help us?” You nods “Of course….Oh! Hello.” You says abruptly, eyes looking up and everyone follows your gaze.
A lanky man stands awkwardly. “Hello.” He says, everyone nods politely in greeting. “I’m Richard.” The man goes on, and holds the same textbook under his arm. “I’m uh, new to the class… starting Monday.”
Henry raises an eyebrow from behind the thick frame of his glasses. “Oh?” He hums, hand reaching for your thigh-Possessive and claiming.
Bunny rolls his eyes and he takes the new student’s hand in a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Richard old man, welcome to the class. Would you like to have a seat?” Richard blinks and then nods. Another chair is dragged over and Richard sits between Francis and Bunny-who asks him every question under the sun.
“He seems… different then Julien's usual picks.” Henry says quietly into your ear, you nod. “Yes, but Julien’s never been… normal.” Henry hums, a low sound as he agrees. “Oh well, I'm sure he’ll be a good addition.” You whisper, your hand tracing Henry's knuckles. He clicks this tongue. “Only time will tell.” You nod, intertwining their hands “Only time will tell.”
Honestly I tried to write abt the weather in January in Texas, got upset cause why the FUCK is it warm there still and then went down a rabbit hole. ...I still don't like warm weather in January FYI. Also...idk how foundations work okay I’m just a girl.
WC: 936
January in Texas was not what you were used to, nor was it something you think you’d ever be used to.
However, after living here for close to two years now, it was becoming something for a routine. Speaking of routines, your Monday nights have been riveting since December.
The New Year meant new goals, for yourself and the companies/foundations and charities that the Hawthornes have money in.
Avery and you have been working at a table in a conference room for about six hours now-it was well past closing but the paperwork in front of you didn’t care, and neither did the deadlines.
“My head hurts,” Avery says, and you look up. “Tell me about you,” you rub your eyes.
Make up for both of you was long gone, as were the “business” clothes and heels, thrown into a pile in the corner. The soft sweatsuits and slippers were a welcome change.
“I quit.” Avery says a couple minutes later. “I think I've lost the ability to read.” You laugh “Yeah? No more romance books for you then,” she shoots you a look, smiling. “Yeah yeah,” she stands and you do as well, stretching your back.
The paperwork gets swept into binders and placed into the Hawthorne designated office, before the door’s locked.
“Thank god for private drivers.” You hum, and Avery nods. The elevator down the six floors is dead silent, both of you leaning against the mirrors. “Hi, Phil,” Avery says as she climbs into the backseat of the SUV.
“Hello Miss. Grambs, and miss. l/n.”
“Hi Phil.” You hum.
The drive to the foundation office on a good day (with the traffic of downtown) was half an hour, but now with no one on the road it only took maybe 15 minutes.
Not that you’d know-you fell asleep as soon as Phil started the drive.
You knew you were driving into the massive Hawthorne mansion when the smooth roads turned into crunchy gravel, and the lights got dimmer.
“Hey,” Avery nudged you, “we’re here, come on.” She looks half asleep herself as the two of you get out of the car and walk into the house.
“Good evening.” One of the security guards nods to the two of you. “Hi.” You and Avery say, and begin the trek up the stairs into your wing.
Well, really it was very but when you came in, using up the guest bedroom in there it was decided that it just belonged to the both of you.
“Plus,” Avery had said “what am i gonna do with an entire wing to myself? You make it so much more interesting.” T
hat had been two years ago, and now everyone just knew it was yours as much as Avery's.
The house-for once- was quiet as you walked. “Thank god we changed” you murmur and Avery nods. “I’ve never been happier to see a pair of sweatpants in my life.” you laugh quietly, Avery joining in.
Once it hit midnight, and you two weren't clearly going anywhere-the choice to change seemed obvious. It’s whispered talk between you and her as you walk into the wing.
“All I want is my bed.” You hum, Avery nodding along. “You and me…both…” She trails off.
The door to your bedroom was open.
“Jesus Christ.” you mutter as both of you poke your heads in. Not only was the door open, your TV was on.
“Did you leave it on?” Avery asks, you shake your head. “No, I wouldn't have.”
Taking another couple steps into the room, that's when you see it. A person sized lump in your bed.
Avery grins “Aww that's so cute,” She nudges you “he was waiting for you.” Unable to contain the smile, you just bump her back.
“Well,” she hums, "I'll leave you to it., Goodnight.” You wave “Night, Avery." She leaves your room, shutting the door behind her.
The TV remote was on Grayson's side of the bed, so you tip toe over, turning it off before climbing into bed.
“Hmm?” The sound is low, still half asleep. “Hi gray,” You whisper “I’m home, go back to sleep.” He blinks a couple times. “You’re home late, what time is it?” He asks and you turn to look at the alarm clock. “Almost 3:30.”
“AM?” He’s awake now “Why the hell were you there so late? Don’t they know-”
“gray.” you say softly “I’m tired, can we talk about this tomorrow?”
He looks at you in the dark, the outline of your exhausted expression and nods. “Yeah” he says “of course, come here.” he opens his arms.
Your head rests against his chest and the soft sleep material of his shirt. “I didn’t think you’d be in my bed.” you whisper, gray’s arms tighten around you. “I missed you.” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
You smile, trying to keep the goofy grin off your face by tucking yourself closer to him. “You did?” you ask, he chuckles. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
This time you don’t stop the smile, or the laugh.
“Too late.” you muse, “Grayson Hawthorne missed me so much he fell asleep in my bed.” You say "that's going straight to my head.” he pretends to be annoyed, but you can feel the smile he’s wearing as he kisses the top of your head. “Of course it is.” he says with a dramatic sigh. You both laugh.
“Goodnight gray” you whisper and he hums, “goodnight.”
Notes: Grayson Davenport Hawthorne IS my husband, and I will not shut up about him. Anyway, this is a Fem x reader, and she (you) wears heels, so there's that. I don't think i missed anything, but let me know!
PS. suspend your disbelief, this is my version of Grayson, and he's just a pookie, idk what to tell you.
WC: 806!
Since Avery inherited almost… everything from the Hawthornes, and since she invited you to come and stay with her (for what was supposed to be a few months but slowly turned into a year, and now you just live at the house.)You two have done nothing but solve mysteries, swoon over the three oldest grandsons and do paperwork.
Now that it’s all over, there’s finally a lull in mystery solving.
Avery and Jameson are together, and you can focus on other things: paperwork and Grayson Hawthorne.
Second-oldest grandson, and the sexy blonde who takes up too much of your headspace, as well as actual bed space.
It was cute three months ago, when you two were just friends with benefits behind everyone’s back, but Avery's smart, and you’re loud, so now everyone knows.
She also knew when he became your boyfriend-boyfriend because again, you two can’t shut up for the love of god.
It’s late-the numbers for the foundation you’re working on are swimming in front of you. The four cups of coffee are not doing anything to help; in fact, they’re making you more sleepy.
You blink, and suddenly it’s been 10 minutes. Your head is on the table, and the pencil’s on the ground. “Oh my god,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes.
Your phone’s gone off- a driver texts. “I’m here whenever you’re ready, Miss. l/n.”
Even the phone screen swims in front of you.
Taking that as your cue, you pack up your bag and head downstairs. Your heels click on the otherwise silent floor, everyone in offices or at home. Once you get downstairs and through the doors, the black SUV is in front and the driver’s standing outside.
“Hello Phil,” you say, and he nods, “hello, miss. l/n.” Opening the door for you, you slide in. Rubbing your face, you sigh. It’s so nice to finally be able to rub your mascara-clad eyes.
“Hello,”
You startle and whip around to the other seats. “What the-Grayson?”
The blonde man sits, wearing his signature grey suit. “Hi.” He says again, you smile. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t even see you.” He nods, warm hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You’re tired, it’s okay.”
With the simple sentence, he’s got you clocked.
“God,” you mutter, “is it that easy to tell? I was hoping I hid it better than that.” At the comment, Grayson shrugs, “I’m sure you did, I just know you better.” You give him a tired smile. “True."
With the driver partition up, Grayson slides closer to you, and in turn, you lean on him.
Having learned that Grayson doesn’t care about his suit if you’re the one messing it up, you curl into him. His arms hold you, hand stroking your hair.
“Sometimes,” you whisper into his neck, “I feel like an idiot." His arms tighten. “Everyone’s just so much better with this than I am.”
He rubs your arm and lets you stay tucked into him. “Sweetheart,” he hums, “You’re smart. More than you realize, and in all sorts of areas.”
You sigh, “not in the area that matters. I’m so tired of thinking and working with numbers, my head hurts.”
Grayson rubs your back, his large palm producing enough warmth to settle the knot in your chest. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “How about we stop and get food?”
“Fast food?” you ask, still inside his arms. “...whatever you want,” he finally says. You smile and take your face out of his neck, your eyes meeting his grey ones. “McDonald's?”
Grayson’s nose scrunches, and you watch the back and forth in his head before he slowly nods. “If that's what you want, I'd buy the entire franchise.”
Knowing that he wasn’t even joking, you kiss his cheek in victory. “You’re the best gray,” you hum, and he winks, “I know.”
Grayson knocks on the partition, it goes down. “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne?” Phil asks, and Gray squeezes your hand. “Closest McDonald's drive-through.” Phil nods, “Send me the order.”
The screen goes back up, and gray settles back. You instantly fall back on his chest.
Through the tinted glass, you can see when Phil’s pulled into the drive-through, then the smell of French fries flows through the car.
Even Grayson sighs.
“God,” he grins, boyish. The one he only shows you. “That smells so good.”
Phil takes down the screen and passes a bag back to us. “It’s okay,” you say, “we can wait till we get home.” Phil looks at you through the rearview mirror. “It’s fries, go ahead and eat them. I know you both want to.” Grayson hums and takes the bag.
The screen goes up.
He pulls you back against him, too close to even consider personal space and together you two munch on perfectly salty McDonald's fries.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
My Man on Willpower. (Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader) SFW.*
Tehe, I told you that MBF was all I could think of.
*So, it's *technically* SFW, but there are talks of sex, oral (m & f) and overall teenagers thinking they're gonna die cause they haven't had sex in a week. (These count as the warnings, too.)
Again, not edited cause I'm a student and can't be bothered!
WC: 1k
Luke was an older camper now. He was responsible, reasonable and helpful. He made sure the younger campers were taken care of, and the older campers were treated like they wanted to be: An adult.
Did he think some of them were growing up too fast? Sure, but that comes with being a Demi-god.
Luke picks and chooses his battles with the keen eye of a swordsman. He’s always one step ahead of his enemy.
And right now, his enemy was Y/n’s lacy pj set.
He walks into Herme's cabin, ready to just shower and then sleep but there you are. Smoking hot, with a teasing little smile on your face.
Fuck.
“Hey you,” You hum, painted nails playing with the lace trim of your shorts. “I haven’t seen you all day.”
Luke huffs out a laugh “Sorry baby, I was so busy I haven’t had time to even think-let alone sneak out for a second.”
You hum, nodding slowly. More to yourself than anything. “All good,” You muse, still laying across his bed. “Come to bed?” You ask, smiling.
Luke scrubs a hand down his face. “I have to shower first.” You sit up straight now, sexy pose be damned. “Okay.” You say “yeah of course, go shower.”
Luke leaves and you groan into his pillow. Gods forbid you want one night with your sexy boyfriend.
He’s busy, he’s workin’, he doesn’t have time for me. My slutty pajamas not temptin’ him in the least
You lay there as he presses a kiss to your forehead. Your FOREHEAD. Luke used to not be able to leave the room without kissing you properly and now he’s kissing your forehead? This is hell. It has to be, there’s no other explanation.
Luke leaves, not sparing a glance to the lace riding up your hips or how it exposes the last love bite from him.
A week.
It was a week ago you two had a sleepover and clearly it was affecting you, and not him. Right before he’d been asked to be head camper for Hermes.
What in the fucked up romantic dark comedy is this nightmare lately?
You loved him, you really did, but Luke was not a nonchalant guy. He loved loud and he made sure campers knew you were taken.
So this….willpower he’s showing rubs you the wrong way.
My man on his willpower is something I don’t understand. He fell in love with self restraint and now it’s gettin’ out of hand.
Luke comes back, curls damp and sweatpants on. He crawls into bed next to you, and hums against your skin.
Yes, you think, yesss this is it! I over reacted-
“Goodnight.” he whispers against your skin and turns around.
Your eyes widen and stare at his back. The fucker turned around?!
Luke used to cling to you like a stage five koala and now you’re treated to his (very sexy) back? Oh no.
He used to be literally obsessed with me. Now I'm the least sought after girl in the land.
The night goes fast, and the next day you amp it up. Tiny shorts, teasing smiles and winks.
Nothing.
It’s like talking to a wall.
You complain to your cabinmates, moaning about how you haven’t been laid in a week and you think it’s driving you nuts. “I don’t even know if he likes me anymore.” You mumble, face in your hands.
“Uh, Y/n?” One of the girls says and you sigh. “What?” You lift your head and she points behind you.
You turn your head, and Luke stands there, flowers in hand.
“Oh no.” You whisper and get up. “Luke-”
“You think I don’t like you?” He asks, hurt on his face. “Y/n, I thought you knew me better than that?”
All your friends take this as a sign to head out and then it’s just you and Luke at the picnic table. “You ignored me yesterday.” You point out softly “in your cabin.”
Luke sighs “I was tired, y/n/n.” You bite your lip “I know, I'm sorry. I just…You got head camper and now you’re so busy you don’t even look at me! I came in yesterday wearing those-”
“Those fucking pjs.” He finishes “I Know.”
You stay silent.
“Those lace ones,” he mutters, “The evil ones.”
“Evil?”
“Yeah, evil," he nods. “It took all my self-restraint to not rip them off you.”
You shake your head, “Then why didn’t you? I was quite literally asking for it!”
“Because if I give in to you,” he comes around the picnic table. “I will spend the rest of the summer either between your legs or in you, and as head camper, I have things I need to do.”
You blink, and heat rises to your cheeks. “So you ignored me?”
Luke takes your waist in his large hands. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re losing me. But I knew if I let myself have you during my first week as head camper, I wasn't going to be head camper much longer.”
Your hands go to his shoulders “I distract you.” You murmur and he nods “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
You both stare and then laugh. “Gods I thought you were tired of me.” You confess and Luke’s hand soothes up and down your back. “No baby, I could never grow tired of you.”
“Well, you hum. It’s Friday,” Luke looked confused, and you smiled. “It’s been a full week of you being head camper, and you get weekends off…”
You trail off, looking at him through your lashes.
Luke groans, almost like he’s in pain and bends down to throw you over his shoulder. You laugh and let him carry you to the Herme’s.
Everyone was out for the afternoon, and the familiar click of the lock echoed in the room.
“If I lose head camper-”
“I’ll give you head to make up for it.” You tease, and Luke's eyes darken.
“Deal,” he says fast, and then sets you on the bed.
“You have a week to make up for.” You tease him and he kneels in front of you, hand on your knee.
“I know,” he murmurs, hand sliding up your thigh. “That's seven for you,” he hums, and you look at him with a small grin.
"When Did You Get Hot?" (Luke Castellan X fem!Reader.) SFW.
I've had MBF on repeat since it came out, so this is a direct result of that.
Luke X reader.
WC: 1.4K
It's like half edited, I'm in class rn so I gotta be sneaky. #grindneverstops
Summer break had just started, and the demigod children were making their way to Camp Half-Blood, excited for the two-month break where they get to mess around with their friends and learn tips and tricks to survive out in the world.
Cordelia Cresswell stood off to the side, in an orange camp t-shirt, as she chatted alongside other campers.
Julie and Jaime, daughters of Athena and Demenor, stood next to each other talking about their months off from camp.
A couple of boys run past, already causing havoc for poor Chiron. The centaur already looked like he wanted to take a day off, and Mr. D was following behind with a can of Diet Coke in his hand.
Once all the campers, both new and returning, had settled in, the annual “first night at camp” dinner was in session.
Campers ate wherever they wanted that night, with friends in their own cabin, with friends in other cabins, on the grassy hills overlooking the rest of camp. Anywhere was accessible.
Cordelia was walking over to Jaime and Julie, along with a few others from various cabins, but since they’d all arrived at the same time, they were close friends.
"Now I'm at the prospect convention, My friends walk in your friends' direction."
Jaime gets the attention of a few campers from Hermes-boys they’d known for years- and Cordelia doesn’t pay them much attention as she sits down.
The boys all come over and make themselves at home right along with the girls, the group much larger than it was before. “Hey, Cor!" One says, and her head lifts.
“Hi, Travis!" she smiles. “How was your school year?” he shrugs, “Same old same old.” She nods, “Same here, nothing crazy.”
"Said, "Sabrina, don't you know Devin?" And I was like, Huh."
“Luke! Come here!” Travis waves his arm, and a curly-haired, tall boy walks over.
Effortless.
That was the first word to come to mind when he walked with his tray in one hand and the other in his pocket.
Julie and Jaime giggle while Cordelia talks to Conner now, who interrupts to say, “Cordelia, you remember Luke?” She nods. Of course, she did.
He was a lanky kid. Funny and kind, but a little rough around the edges. She smiles as she looks up. “I do.”
"When did you get hot? All of a sudden I could look you up and down all day. When did you get hot? I think I would remember if you had that face."
Holy shit.
Cordelia has to stop herself from dropping her jaw.
Luke Castellan, who was always a little cute, was suddenly smoking hot. Onyx curls, brown eyes and a panty-dropping smirk. When in the world did he get hot?
It’s clear the other girls are thinking the same. Julie and her make eye contact and both girls grin at each other.
“Hi Luke,” Cordelia says, and Luke smiles at her, still boyish and kind. “Hi Cordelia.” The way her name falls off his lips as she smiles like an idiot. Luke sits next to her, and his gods damn cologne makes her melt.
"Congratulations on your new improvements."
Over the course of the next week or so, Cordelia slowly started to notice how much everyone seemed to realize Luke got hot.
Girls from her cabin were giggling about him at night, and others stared when he walked around camp.
“Sooooo,” Jaime pops up before Cordelia and hooks arms with her. “You seem to be making googoo eyes at him.”
Cordelia looks at the girl, “Who?”
Jaime laughs, “Luke, silly!”
Cordelia’s cheeks go red. “Jaime!” The raven-haired girl cackled, “It’s true! You seem to have been staring at him a lot.”
Cordelia bumps her hip into Jaime’s. “Can you blame me? He’s gotten so good-looking!”
Both girls giggle as they walk along the path to the lake, the sun high in the sky over the camp.
"I bet your light rod's like bigger than Zeus'"
The sun beat down on the camp, and Cordelia stood with her cabin as she waited for her turn in the training ring.
Of course, Luke was teaching (he wasn’t the best swordsman for nothing.)
Sweat dripped down her neck, and it was clear the other Aphrodite girls were feeling the heat as well, since many had cool towels on their necks or were dabbing their foreheads with one.
The only person who seemed to not mind the heat was Luke, who, in an act of pure sex, pulled his camp t-shirt over his head.
Biceps bulge and Cordelia’s eyes were blessed to see the abs he definitely DIDN’T have last summer.
He was tone, and Luke knew it.
Going back to teaching like it was nothing, those worn-out jeans slid lower on his hips until the band of his boxers was visible.
And below that was the outline of-
She chugs the rest of her water bottle to try to get rid of the blush.
When she turns back, Luke catches her watching, and the fucker has the nerve to wink at her!
“Come on, Cor,” he twirls the sword, “Come show me how it’s done.”
"Hey, wait, can you lift my car with your hand?"
After the… training incident, Cordelia avoided Luke at all costs cause gods forbid she blurts out anything embarrassing.
What doesn’t stop, though, is how their friend group is just one big one by the third week of camp.
Now, since camp was… camp, the older kids got restless.
This restlessness led to a lake party on the one day off.
Booze was smuggled in, speakers played music, and everyone was in a bathing suit. Cordelia sat with Julie and Jaime in a tiny pink bikini, her camp necklace glinting against the sun.
She had already told both girls about training and how good-looking Luke was, so they gossiped.
“Come in the water!” Conner called for the three girls, and Jaime was off without another word while Julie and Cordelia watched.
“Go, Jules, I’ll be there in a bit.” Cordelia smiles as she sips at her cooler.
Julie grins and looks behind Cor before walking off.
“Not going in the water?” a voice asks, and Cor whirls around.
Luke smirks behind her.
Shirtless, arms crossed and in low swim trunks.
“I was going to suntan, why?”
Luke rolls his eyes. “You have all summer to tan, come in the water.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “Nice try-OH MY GODS.”
One second she’s upright, and the next she’s thrown over Luke’s shoulder and is heading to the water.
Trying to be upset about it, Cordelia smacks his back, “Put me down!”
“Nope.”
“Luke!” The girl cries out, but laughs anyway.
At this angle, she can feel his muscles under her and how he just picks her up like it’s nothing. “Gods above,” she mutters to herself as Luke keeps a tight hold on her. “I’m so screwed.”
"You were an ugly kid, but you're a sexy man."
“You weren’t weird.” Cordelia laughs later that night, sitting around a campfire at the base of the lake.
She and Luke were the only ones still awake.
“I was,” he says, “it’s okay, you can admit it.” he teases, she smiles.
“Maybe just a bit,” she giggles, and he chuckles.
Their arms brush, and she hums, “You were always nice though, you weren’t an asshole.”
She watches the shadows from the fire bounce around his face, catching on his jaw. “Yeah,” he muses, “at least there's that.”
He looks at her, “but you were never mean either.” Cordelia shrugs, “I had my moments.”
“Didn’t we all?” Luke asks, “No one’s perfect.”
It goes quiet again, and the two just sit side by side.
Their arms are still touching, and Luke yawns, stretching his arms over his head. Cordelia’s heart skips, and her stomach drops as Luke drapes his arm over her shoulders.
“Smooth,” she mumbles, and he laughs, pulling her closer. “That was cringe,” he says, and she nods, “It was.”
They both laugh, and Cordelia hums. “You had a glow up this summer.”
He nods, “I know.”
“You know?” Luke smirks, “I started to work out more, and I finally grew.”
She nods slowly, “That's true, but you weren’t ugly before.”
Luke hums, “What am i now?” He looks at her, “Come on, Cor, tell me.” She giggles and has a surge of confidence as she presses her lips to his.
“You’re handsome now,” she whispers as he cups her cheek. “Or sexy, depending on who you ask.” He laughs against her lips, then kisses her again.
