#averyjameson fics

[riddles-n-games]

TIG Drabble #5-Avery and Jameson

"Tahini."

She paused.

"Tahini." There it was again. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Why was he-? She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Tahini, Heiress." He was smiling as he said it. She continued chewing and swallowed, placing the sub on the wrapper and covering her mouth as she spoke. "What? Why are you calling Tahiti?"

His smile widened as he shook his head amusedly. Now he was just getting her agitated. She rolled her eyes and took a bite as she waited for him to say whatever supposedly clever thing he came up with that was oh-so-funny.

When Jameson looked back up, she gestured for him to continue, annoyed with his antics. As much as she loved her boyfriend and their games, there were times she really didn't care for his unnecessary suspense. "Tahini. Don't you hear the 'n'?"

"Well, now I do. What about it?"

He snorted at her deadpan response and started to chuckle. Her mouth twisted. She didn't like being the butt of a joke especially not one of his dumb ones. "You have something to actually say or are you just going to waste the rest of our lunch?"

"Sorry, sorry. Tahini sauce, ever heard of it?" She shook her head. "It's a sesame seed paste and it's popular in subs. I picked it for your sandwich since you've said you want to try some new things." That explained the somewhat off-taste she picked up on in odd bites. "I only just realized it-"

"Sounded like Tahiti?"

"Yup." He was grinning again. "Guess you know what that means Heiress."

"What?"

"If one of us has to spill the tea during meals, we'll have to say Tahini."

She sighed exasperatedly and bit again into her sub as he dissolved into laughter. Who knew that Jameson Hawthorne could be so corny too? But, she reasoned, I wouldn't have it any other way.

[thechildofshadows]

THE BOY AND HIS WINE CELLAR

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 1.6k

hello! I did say that I would write something, and that I would get it would a week or two after Valentine's ... so it's been about three weeks, it's been a month, okay? This fic is dedicated to @saythewordheiress, who posted asking for a fic where Jameson takes care of drunk Avery ... I wanted to give Jamie some backstory, and now i have a completely different fic. mb girl, I'll get back to you on that. This fic has a lot of time-skips. TW for alcohol addiction, which I definitely didn't write accurately. I rated this Teen on Ao3, so read with a little bit of caution. It focuses on our king JH and his relationship with alcohol through the years (two years). It places a heavy emphasis on his damaged relationship with Grayson (I always thought it was sad that they were at each other's throats so often). TLDR : If you wanted fluff, you've come to the wrong place, if you wanted bourbon, you've come to the right one. be back in a week (or a day!) for that drunk Avery fic. Enjoy!

“Where are you going?” I asked him. After everything it has taken to get to this point, he couldn’t just walk away. “To hell, eventually,” Jameson answered. “Probably to the wine cellar, for now.” -Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

The tabloids thought that Jameson loved alcohol. They weren’t entirely wrong.

He loved the buzz it gave him, and how free it made him feel.

It didn’t hurt that Hawthornes were blessed with one of the highest alcohol tolerances known to man.

Did he love the actual drinks themselves? Hell no. For a majority of his life, he didn't see the point in alcohol. But the first time he'd had something that actually hit-

It was a beautiful feeling and he enjoyed it so much.

Maybe too much.

Jameson had been at his first gala when Nash handed him a glass of wine. He took it. He’d seen the adults drink during dinner before, but never took any sips, since being drunk felt like a hindrance. But there wasn’t much he could do that day and the function was dragging on and on. He had his first glass of wine at thirteen years old.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

But that didn’t stop him from trying a shot at a party one night. Country Day had won a state golf tournament, and everyone was gathered at the house of some rich socialite. There were whiskey shots lined up on the table, and an open bar. Jameson tried some whiskey, conveniently named after himself.

It tasted like shit. He preferred coffee.

Oh how that’s changed, he thought, moving out of the living room, and going upstairs.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 17

Emily Laughlin left the world after Jameson turned 17. And, he supposed, she took Grayson with her. Their former bond was irreparably wrecked. And Jameson felt that the only reason he’d mourned for so long was because he’d lost his brother too. His closest brother. His favorite. His first friend. They had done everything together when they were younger, and now they couldn't be in the same room as each other. Their longest argument before had lasted a grand total of three days, and both had been miserable and forgot about the problem after two hours. This one seemed significantly worse.

But he'd loved Emily as well. He had. They had done so much together in such little time. She understood him better than anyone, she understood everything. They were both trapped when all they wanted was to be free. He thought she loved him. And she died.

He was so tired. So tired.

The next day, three bottles were missing from the wine cellar. Smashed glass of a Scottish whiskey bottle was found on the grass, almost as it it had been dropped from the roof.

Jameson snuck into the cellar for what may have been the second time that week. He relished the adrenaline high he got when he drank, and had developed a taste for whiskey.

He reached for the nearest bottle, but it moved.

His lips parted in confusion, and his eyes widened as they fell on Tobias Hawthorne himself.

The usual teasing smile on the man’s face had gone and he was frowning at Jameson.

“This is enough.”

Jameson held back an eyeroll, and Tobias continued. “Over a thousand dollars of drinks are gone, and you’re giving the tabloids something worse and worse each month.”

Jameson gritted his teeth. “It’s always about you, isn’t it Grandfather? Does it matter how I feel? Never! It’s always the tabloids and what they think!”

His grandfather narrowed his eyes. “The girl is dead.”

It’s not about Emily.

“She’s been dead for several months.”

It’s never been about Emily.

“It’s been too long.”

But you think it is-

“Once we leave, this door will lock, and the key is going to be hidden exactly where you think it is.”

-because it’s less painful to think about her than ... other people.

Jameson turned to leave, and promptly crashed into a wall, falling over. Oh crap, how much did I drink?

I'm wasted. 

“I should not find you here again.”

Jameson knew better than to go against his grandfather. “Fine.” And he actually left the room, managing to make it back to his room in one piece.

Change didn't come quickly. But Jameson was a Hawthorne, and Hawthornes can do everything.

Jameson Hawthorne: Age 18

Jameson avoided the cellar like the plague.

He knew his grandfather, and he knew himself. There had to be traps in the hallway and stairs, Tobias would never leave something with just a warning.

It wasn't easy. He was miserable (Ask Nash). But he found himself reaching back towards the coffee bar, and slowly regaining back his abilities as a barista.

Jameson had spent a year cultivating his cooking skills, and used an entire month developing his coffee-making talents. Now, he found it therapeutic, following the same instructions, or even trying something new.

And that was how he found himself reaching one month, fully sober.

His birthday came and went. He drank coffee.

So did Grayson’s. He drank coffee then, too.

They still didn’t talk and it made Jameson want to rip his hair out. (Again, no one said it would be easy abruptly quitting alcohol.)

But a few weeks later, Tobias Hawthorne died.

Jameson went to the cellar.

There were no traps anywhere. The key was inside the lock, and when he went inside, there was a note on the whiskey.

I’m sorry. I wanted better for you.

Nash had run out of his stash of cheap vodka and had told a slightly less drunk Grayson to get some more.

He went to the wine cellar, looking for a bottle, and instead found his brother, already gone through multiple drinks.

Their consciousness had passed the point of rivalries, and spent the night sharing a few bottles of whiskey. Their drunken laments were somehow understood by each other, and after a few more drinks, they didn’t need words to communicate anymore. Had they not been blackout drunk, one would’ve thought they were seven again, seemingly talking with more than words.

Grayson woke up the next morning, on a couch across from his brother.

He left the room immediately.

Jameson woke up a few hours later with a killer hangover,, and figured he moved the sheets while he was drunk.

Interesting feeling. Jameson got drunk often, but never to the point of blacking out. Getting that drunk gave him a killer hangover and rendered him useless for about half the day.

He smelled tequila, something he had never developed a taste for. Grayson was the only person in the house who drank it, and Jameson knew better than to touch that corner of the wine cellar.

What the hell did I do?

Grayson never told him.

No one usually checked on Jameson, and after Tobias had died, no one went to the backyard either.

Of course, she wasn’t no one.

She found him on the balcony railing, drunk and shirtless, and the first thing he had done was give her a riddle. He didn’t know why Tobias had required her presence, but he was going to make it fun for himself.

And she'd solved it, too. Maybe she's more than just a puz-

NO.

He would’ve gone down for more bourbon, but the house was Avery’s now, even though she probably didn’t know that it even existed.

Avery.

Tobias Hawthorne usually had a reason behind every one of his actions, but Jameson couldn’t figure out his reasoning behind this one.

And that made her all the more fun.

Bourbon might be good for me, if I get to meet pretty girls.

He mentally slapped himself. That’s not fair.

They had a connection.

He tried to deny it, but they had a connection.

He’d connected with his grandfather. He’d connected with Grayson. He thought he’d connected with Emily, and both had left him. (Though things seemed to be getting better with Gray.)

Or so he thought.

Then he found out she was in the coma.

He went down to the wine cellar, and reached for the bottle of vodka.

And then he paused.

Do I want to be drunk when she’s awake?

Do I want to forget?

But I don’t want to feel…

But she will wake up. And when she does, I’m going to do everything right.

Jameson walked out of the cellar and locked the door. And that means no more day drinking.

Goodbye, room. I owe you a lot.

Avery wasn’t going to die.

But when Alisa moved her out of the hospital, Jameson had to be held back by Xander and Grayson from almost punching her in the face.

“She could’ve died!” He yelled, his voice growing hoarse with the volume. “No amount of money is worth her life, Alisa! You had no right-“

“It had to be done, Jameson.”

“No it didn’t! She-“

“One of us is a professional, and it isn’t you. The situation isn’t ideal-”

“Ideal?” He choked out. To even plan for this scenario… “Damnit, Alisa.”

Nash walked out of Avery’s room with Libby, and upon seeing his brother about to throw hands with Alisa, dragged Jameson toward his room. He offered Jameson a bottle of whiskey, and his eyebrows shot up when Jameson refused.

“No? It’s been long few days, Jamie," Nash sat down next to Jameson. "and there used to be a time where you weren’t seen without at least a drink down.”

Jameson nodded, staring at his hands. “Need to be sober if she wakes up.”

“When. She’ll wake up. She’s strong, Jameson.”

“She is.”

Avery woke up later that week, and Jameson almost collapsed with relief.

Jameson Hawthorne: NOW

Jameson reached the roof and stared at the sky.

Once in a lifetime, you meet someone you love so much, you become a better version of yourself for them.

The moon shined down as Jameson dug through his pockets. He opened the small velvet box, and the light reflected off the diamond on the ring.

I love you with more than words.

Thank you for being mine, Avery Kylie Grambs.

Alright, how do we feel after 1.6k words of sad? please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw watermelons at me. Anything works. I will balance out all of this angst with fluff, give me a week. and if you want to be added to the taglist, which does not yet exist, just let me know somehow, put it in the notes somewhere. This fic is green (because I'm Irish) because I love green (because Jameson's eyes are green), and I'm not technically Irish. Happy March, leprechauns. (This is my formal apology to saythewordheiress, who was tagged without consent. I'm very sorry.) (dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

[7975348473]

Bury Your Past.

———————————————— A Rohan Angst Fic. (Desi style) Timeline: During the Grandest Game Includes: Rohan x Savannah, Rohan and Lyra (sibling dynamic), Lyra x Grayson Slight gore. ————————————————

“Congrats fellow contestants, you have made it to the next stage of The Grandest Game!!”

Rohan tried to keep his focus on, the ever so dramatic, Alexander Hawthorne instead of a certain blonde girl.

Savannah had been throwing Rohan in and out of orbit from the very beginning of the game and saying he actually enjoyed it would be a major understatement.

“For this level, you will be paired into groups of two.” Avery Grambs continued.

Rohan’s gaze betrayed him, though, because he immediately looked to Savannah from across the room at the mention of a pair.

And, to Rohan’s pleasant surprise, her gaze also found his before quickly looking away.

Rohan almost smirked.

He knew chances of them both actually being on the same team were in the negatives, mostly because Jameson Hawthorne took a liking in tormenting him.

He was immediately proven right.

“For duo one,” Jameson began, “Brady Daniels and Savannah Grayson.”

Rohan looked to Jameson and he could swear Jameson’s eyes were alight with something that could only be described as trouble.

Is he trying to make me jealous?, Rohan thought to himself as he glanced over to Brady, who was making casual conversation with Savannah.

It’s working.

“For duo two— Rohan and Lyra.”

Now that was peculiar.

Rohan met Lyra’s gaze and they both assessed one another.

Lyra Catalina Kane. Her posture is confident, flawless almost. She’s definitely a dancer.

The game masters informed everyone of their groups before moving on to the details.

“This game is quite simple, and who passes depends on how well you entertain us.” Jameson began.

“You will find a puzzle waiting for you in a room specially designed for it. Once solved, you’ll receive a file with a specific topic.” Avery continued.

“The challenge is, you will have to put together a proper performance to showcase said topic within the given time limit.” Xander said, wiggling his fingers for effect.

A collective murmur broke out among the contestants.

A performance? Thats easy, Rohan thought. He practically put on a performance at The Mercy every other day.

The trick was to control the audience.

“But there’s a catch kids.” Said Nash, his Texas drawl on full display, “the only time you will be working together is when you are deciding on the performance.”

Silence followed.

“Which means, only one player will solve the puzzle and only one player will perform.” Nash explained.

That… actually complicated things.

The game was designed in such a way that the two players would work separately but still have to depend on each other .

If the person solving the puzzle took too long, they wouldn’t be able to put together a proper performance.

Rohan began to think out who would do what in his group.

“Of course, we have already decided who will do what.” Jameson said, making Rohan pause. He could practically hear Jameson’s smirk.

They gave everyone their roles and the teams were then dispatched to find their puzzle.

“Rohan, you have to be quick to crack the code.” Lyra said, breaking the silence once they reached the room.

“Don’t worry about it, darling. I’m good at quick.”

Lyra didn’t look so sure as Rohan stepped into the puzzle room.

They had exactly 24 hours before the stage officially ended— before they had to perform.

Rohan looked around the puzzle room, calculating his next move.

Two hours, Rohan promised himself and then he went for it.

——————————————————

One hour, twenty six minutes and thirty eight seconds.

Rohan would have felt giddy about finishing before his set time if it weren’t for the fact that it was almost too easy.

As if it wasn’t the puzzle they should have been worrying about, but the performance.

Rohan strode to the huge ballroom, where Lyra and him had agreed to meet.

Lyra jumped up off her seat when she saw him walk through the door.

“You’re done already??” She said, and Rohan could tell that she was worrying about the same thing.

Too quick. Too easy.

Rohan simply showed her the file he had obtained in reply.

Lyra raised a brow at him before plopping back down and signalling for him to sit down too.

Rohan did. Lyra snatched the file from his hand and ripped it open.

“Woah there kitty, calm down.” Rohan said.

If he was being honest, he only wanted to see how Lyra would react to the nickname he had come up with, inspired by her middle name.

Rohan was not disappointed.

The vivid glare she sent his way was plenty satisfying.

“Do not call me that.”

“Why not? I think it suits your personality quite well.”

“If you do not shut up, I will have your tongue.”

“Oof- bettered shut up then.”

Lyra rolled her eyes and Rohan gave a small smile in return.

She’s fun.

An immense sense of nostalgia suddenly hit Rohan. It was too sudden, he hadn’t seen it coming.

And he was never caught off guard.

Rohan quickly calmed his senses, focusing on the matter at hand.

“The file says we have to make a performance on the classical dance/s of India.” He said.

Lyra looked up at him, “You opened it without me?”

“Of course.”

“Bastard.”

“Kitty.”

Rohan could swear he heard a small ‘fuck you’ but he’d ignore that for now.

“Of India??” She asked, while reading the file. Rohan nodded.

“Wait— you’re half Indian right?” She looked up at him, Rohan didn’t deign that with a response.

“You have the skin tone, and the name.” She didn’t seem to stop.

“I might be genetically half Indian but I am purely British at the heart and soul. Sorry to disappoint.” He said, which was true.

Rohan remembered nothing of his childhood in India. Nothing of his family or home. Just one memory.

A memory he did not appreciate having.

Lyra shot him a skeptical look, Rohan replied with a smile that said ‘do not pry further or else.��

Either Lyra didn’t take the hint or she didn’t care.

“Still, you must know something about the topic??” She said.

Rohan took one mini second to calm himself before replying, “Unfortunately, I don't. I'm guessing you don't know much either then?”

A smug expression broke out on Lyra's face as she leaned back in her seat and crossed her hands, “Now, I didn't say that did I?”

As it turns out, Lyra was a dancer. A ballerina, to be more specific. But she had pursued many different dance styles before she settled for ballet. And they were in luck that Kathak just happened to be one of them.

“Kathak?” He asked.

“Kathak.” She affirmed.

Rohan flipped the word over in his head when Lyra spoke up, “Um- wait. There's something else written in the file-”

Rohan waited for her to read it aloud. When she didn't, he simply took the file from her hands.

Oh.

No wonder Lyra didn't read it, the phrase was written in a different script- a different language.

घर मोरे परदेसिया

Rohan knew that text. He knew that language.

He ran his fingers over the words as he closed his eyes, skimming through his memories- trying to find something useful.

“Do you have a pen? Or anything to write with.” Rohan asked, as a memory began to surface. She pulled a pen out and handed it to him.

Rohan wrote on his hand.

Ghar More Pardesiya

He stared at what he had written for a few moments.

Rohan had been taught from the moment he'd joined The Mercy to learn to let go. Let go of his attachments, and most importantly, to let go of his past.

To act as if his Indian nationality didn't exist.

The last thing he was expecting was to remember something of it.

“So, do we know what... this means?” Rohan asked, pushing away his thoughts habitually.

Lyra stared at his hand for a second before her eyes turned alight, “Oh my gosh! Ghar More Pardesiya! Its a song!”

Rohan couldn't help but smile at her pronunciation. Lyra glared at him.

“As if you could pronounce it any better, British bastard.”

She had a point. Rohan could not pronounce it properly. But it still sounded funny for some reason. As if some part of him still remembered how to properly say it.

That was when a tile suddenly disappeared, leaving an opening in the floor. Out of it came a seemingly ancient music player, a music disc, a dress and some weird rope with a lot of... bells on it?

Rohan eyed the weird things as Lyra went to grab it, mumbling something like, “Leave it to the Hawthornes to have a removable tile in their floor.”

They took the appliances and set them on a table.

“So, the game plan is for me to make up a choreography with what little I remember of Kathak and for you to?” Lyra asked.

“For me to watch and criticize you” Rohan replied with a smile.

Lyra rolled her eyes.

“Do you know what that rope-thing is? An instrument?” It was Rohan's turn to ask this time.

Lyra gave him an unimpressed look, “They're called ghungaroo, kind of like anklets but for dancers only.” She explained.

Rohan had no idea how she would wear that... ghungaroo, without it falling off or something but Lyra didn't seem worried.

Rohan inserted the disc in the music player and the music began to play, he took a seat while Lyra walked on over to the middle of the room.

She stood in one place, oddly still as the music played.

Rohan had seen many people through out his life in The Mercy, many people who were going through possibly the shittiest moments in their lives.

So he knew immediately the expression Lyra had on her face. He recognized it out of habit.

She's hesitating.

Rohan could tell Lyra was a dancer, anybody with two eyes could, actually. It was in the way she moved, so why was she hesitating to dance now? To let go like her body wanted to?

Rohan knew they didn't have time for this, "Lyra."

He said it as a reminder, to drag her back to the present.

Lyra met his eyes and for the first time since Rohan had met her, she looked slightly vulnerable.

"You know what's at stake here." Rohan said, his voice grave.

Lyra's gaze did not waver for even a moment as she levelled him with her eyes alone, "That I do, bastard."

She turned away from him and closed her eyes, seemingly isolating herself. Just her and the music.

Suddenly she smacked her feet hard against the ground, but it didn't produce a pounding sound. No, it sounded sharp, tight- like a slap to the ground.

Incredibly satisfying.

Rohan watched as she began to twirl- once, twice, then faster. She pushed off the ground with one feet and spun on the heel of the other.

Something about the scene felt all to familiar to Rohan, almost like coming home. And that threw him off.

He had no home.

Rohan took a deep breath in order to try and steady his thoughts.

You are in control. He said mentally, an order.

Yet he couldn't help but lose himself to the music, to the familiar pattern of the way Lyra was twirling and moving. It was almost like the memory demanded its presence be known.

"Goddammit." Lyra whispered, which broke Rohan's train of thoughts.

Lyra had been trying to spin on beat for the last few minutes but couldn't get it right.

Rohan observed as she tried again, ever so relentless.

The pattern she was following was quite simple- one half spin and then two full turns. But it didn't sit right with the beat.

"Try two half-spins, take one second to catch your breathe, and then do the two full spins." Rohan spoke before he could process his words himself. Lyra froze too before turning to him.

Lyra's eyes seemed to ask the same question he had in mind.

How do you know, Rohan?

She saved him the trouble of thinking up an answer. The music began to play again and this time she tried his way.

Half-spin, half-spin, pause. Spin, spin, stop.

It fit perfectly and Lyra met his eyes looking down right delirious. Her smile was surprisingly contagious, because Rohan caught himself giving her a small smile to.

And then the immense sense of nostalgia hit him again.

Get a grip. He gave himself a mental warning.

And so Rohan watched as Lyra danced, repeating the choreography over and over again until she looked like a seasoned Kathak dancer.

By the end of it all, Rohan reached a singular conclusion.

We are not going to lose.

————————————————————

Rohan was now seated in the other huge dance room, where all the contestants were expected to meet once the time was up.

Lyra was changing into her costume while he waited. And, of course, he passed his time in the new way he found quite appealing.

Staring at Savannah Grayson.

It seemed Brady was going to do the performing for the two and judging by the way Savannah looked just about read to commit genocide, Rohan concluded that they were not prepared.

I'm afraid I cannot relate, Savvy.

That was when Grayson Hawthorne approached him.

"Rohan." He greeted.

“Grayson Hawthorne, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Rohan asked.

“I was wondering where Lyra might be?” Grayson replied, his tone giving nothing away.

Oh? Well, this is certainly interesting.

“And why are you worried about my partner?” Rohan asked, exaggerating the last bit.

He took quite a liking to testing people’s patience.

“Why I’m looking for a contestant is none of your business .” Grayson replied coldly, noticeably replacing the ‘my partner’ phase.

Rohan was beyond entertained.

That was when Lyra chose to walk in and all eyes turned to her.

She was now wearing the dress she had received earlier. It nearly touched her ankles and moved at the lightest sway of her body.

But if her gaze met Grayson’s, Rohan didn’t realize.

No, Rohan was now too focused on something else. A sound.

With every step Lyra took, a soft jingling sound followed.

The ghungaroo.

Rohan didn’t like how that sound seemed to reach deep into his soul and tug. He took a steadying breath.

Get a grip. Now. Rohan was beyond frustrated with himself, he had been out of it since the start of this stage.

If he kept this up, The Mercy would slip from his hands as well as his life.

“Hi asshole.” Lyra greeted Grayson first, he took a second before replying.

“You look nice.”

Lyra looked slightly taken aback but Rohan was not about to third wheel.

“Hello to you too, kitty-”

“Stupid British Bastard. If you call me that one more time, I swear to the heavens above, I will commit murder.”

The look Lyra was giving him only seemed to further tell Rohan that she would do just that. With no hesitation.

But it was the weird face Grayson was making that Rohan found amusing.

“Good evening everyone!! I believe all the contestants are here now, so lets begin.” Declared Avery.

And so the show began. It started with Savannah and Brandy, he was performing a comedy show of some sort.

No one was laughing though. Rohan wasn't sure if it was because the comedian was humorless or the audience was.

The performances kept going until, alas, it was their turn.

“You’ll do well.” Said Rohan, his own way of saying good luck. Not giving them the choice of going wrong.

Lyra glanced back at him, “I don’t do well with orders.” Before walking to stage.

The ghungaroo sounded again. Steady and sharp.

The music, so familiar to the both of them now, began to play and Lyra immediately lost herself to it.

But this time there was something different, something off-putting. The more he stared at Lyra's dance, the more he felt it.

Breathe.

Rohan felt the ground beneath his feet disappear as he quickly took a seat on a nearby chair. He tried to steady his breathe.

What is this? A panic attack?

He fought to gain control of himself before everything blacked out.

————————————————————

“Rohan!”

A woman shouted from somewhere behind him. Her accent was slightly different, though. She called him ‘Ro-hun’ instead of ‘Row-haan’.

It felt comforting.

“What is it, maiya?”

That wasn’t English, not even close. And what, rather who, is ‘maiya’?

“Come here quickly, your janak will be home soon!” The ‘Maiya’ character replied.

What in the world did ‘janak’ mean?

Little Rohan raced towards the voice and there stood a beautiful woman. She shared Rohan’s features from the jet black hair to the deep brown eyes.

Rohan was a stunning copy of her.

“Janak is coming home?! Really??” Asked the little boy, sounding far too enthusiastic.

The woman smiled in response, “Yes. He is.”

Rohan’s mood suddenly changed, “But maiya, janak said I should have learned English by the time he returns—”

The rest of the sentence was left unspoken.

It seemed that little Rohan still couldn’t speak any other language apart from the foreign one he was speaking in.

“Don’t worry, Rohan. He will be perfectly happy just to see you and your sister, but if you want to satisfy his wishes then… just call him father.” She replied.

Rohan’s brows scrunched up, “F-father?”

Maiya smiled, “Yes, father.”

————————————————————

“Oh my god, would you hurry bhaiya??” Screeched a little girl.

Rohan recognised that endearment. ‘Bhaiya’, in other words, elder brother.

“Shut up Rukmini, I’m ready.” Rohan snapped. Snapping at the girl came so easily to young Rohan, one would think it was his hobby.

Rukmini, with her curly black hair and brown eyes, beamed at her brother before taking his hand and pulling him along.

“Why are you so excited?? It’s literally just Durga Puja.” Rohan asked, though he sounded more pissed than curious.

“Exactly. Its Durga Puja. We get to pray to the holy mother,” Rukmini turned to Rohan before continuing.

“That, andddddd maiya is going to be performing.”

Rohan’s entire demeanour changed with that one statement, “What?! Maiya’s performing?” He practically screamed.

Rukmini nodded excitedly.

And soon, it was Rohan that was dragging the two towards the mandir.

(A/N: Mandir means temple :D, where the puja/praying happens.)

————————————————————

Rohan had never been enamored by anything excluding two moments of his life. Meeting his father for the first time and when his little sister was born.

But watching his mother wear her ghungaroo for the first time was an other worldly experience in its own.

“Maiya, will you show me how you dance today?” Rohan asked, looking up to his mother with glowing eyes.

The woman gave him a soft smile, “Yes I will.”

Rohan quickly fled to the side of the room and took a seat, bracing himself for the beauty he was sure he’d see soon.

And he was immediately proven right.

Rohan’s mother was a Kathak dancer, and she moved like the wind itself.

It was as if the world fell into her control as she danced, with her dress moving only when she wanted and the air somehow making the dance more enchanting.

But it wasn’t just the dance that mesmerized Rohan, it was the beautiful jingling noise that followed. The sharp tinkling of her ghungaroo.

He stared at her feet as she spun over and over again.

Her hands conveyed their own story as she moved while her expressions changed every time the music did.

When she finally stopped, Rohan asked, “Maiya, are you an apsara? Do you dance in Indra’s court?”

Apsaras, celestial dancers who dance in god’s court.

Rohan’s mother laughed heartily, “No Rohan, of course not. Though, your sister might be~” She teased.

It seems she knew how Rukmini always managed to annoy Rohan.

“Rukmini?? No way!”

——————————————————

Rohan sat on the floor with Rukmini in his arms, sobbing.

He was glaring at the door, or rather the voices coming from the other side.

“You cannot do this to us. We are family, Krish!” Rohan recognised that voice as his mothers.

She, too, sounded like she had been crying. That only made Rohan’s anger bubble up more.

“I have to do this, Lakshmi. Please. You have to understand.” The unknown man reasoned with her.

“Understand?! Understand what? You have went and put our children’s lives on the line! You’re their janak for heavens sake!!” A broken sob escaped her lips as she finished the sentence.

Rukmini only seemed to cry more after that and Rohan tightened his hold on her.

He wouldn’t cry. Not for the likes of that man.

“Its for the better good, Lakshmi, please.” The man said, but this time he wasn’t pleading.

He sounded more demanding this time, as if he was tired of explaining to her. As if he was tired of her.

A cold silence followed before Lakshmi, Rohan’s mother, met Krish’s eyes.

“Get out.” She said.

The man stood there looking blankly at her, “Lakshmi, wha-”

“I SAID GET OUT!!” She yelled, her tone so sharp it could cut stones.

Rukmini turned her head to Rohan’s chest and held onto him for dear life. Rohan felt his own eyes burning.

There was silence and then the smashing of glass.

Rohan’s blood ran cold and Rukmini went numb in his arms.

“You dare try to throw me out of my own house?! The audacity-”

Rohan didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. He couldn’t.

All he remembered was the emotion he was feeling, the rush that was flowing through his veins for the first time.

Real, raw bloodlust.

The memory was extremely vague and blurry.

All he could remember was snapping out of his trance on top of his ‘janak’. Rohan held a bloodied glass bottle in one hand and his other rested on his father’s neck.

He had murdered a man.

Rukmini had taken hold of his hand and was begging him to stop while his mother stood on the other side.

A trail of blood ran down the side of her face and she looked shocked, destroyed.

It was that look on his mother’s face that finally got him crying.

‘I killed my own father. My mother’s hurt. Rukmini’s crying.’ He thought over and over again until finally one theory prevailed.

‘I’m a monster.’

And then Rukmini was hugging him.

—————————————————————

“Maiya? What are you doing up?” Asked Rohan, who was half asleep.

His mother’s eyes looked blank. Emotionless. Her normal comforting spark gone.

“This is for the better, Rohan.” She said finally. Her gaze finding his before landing on Rukmini.

“Its better for you, beta.” She repeated.

‘Beta’, son.

Rohan rubbed his half closed eyes and yawned, “What do you mean, maiya?”

She simply wrapped him up in her arms and gave him a soft smile. Lulling him back to sleep, gently.

“Maa~” Said Rohan, his eyes closed.

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

There was no reply.

———————————————————

Rohan remembered feeling a rhythmic rocking while he was asleep. As if someone was walking with him in their arms.

Then he heard the humming, the familiar tune his mother always hummed.

His mother was there. He was safe.

Right?

She walked slowly, almost too lightly on her feet. He heard her ghungaroo then.

Why was she wearing them now? Where was Rukmini?

The humming never seized.

Not while she walked with him in her arms, not when they came to an abrupt stop, not when he touched the water, not when everything seemed too dark.

Not when he sunk lower and lower, not when his chest constricted, not when he tried to cry for help.

Not when he stopped breathing.

Despite it all, Rohan remembered only one thing.

'I'm a monster. A devil.'

And some part of him whispered.

"You deserve this."

——————————————————

“Rohan?”

Ro-hun.

“Rohan!!”

Ro-hun,

“ROHAN!!”

Row-haan.

Rohan jolted awake, his eyes wide open as he quickly sat up. He was breathing hard, and his gaze was unfocused.

What was that? What the fuck?

He felt like he was drowning all over again.

“Eyes on me, British.” Savannah Grayson. Rohan's eyes met her beautiful grey ones and he felt some air return to his lungs.

His brain finally caught up with his surroundings, his current situation.

All eyes were on him. The Game Masters all stood to one side, slightly shocked by Rohan's sudden awakening. Savannah stood on the other, she held his hand in hers and her eyes looked... glassy almost?

Grayson stood not too far from Savannah, assessing Rohan's state and Lyra stood at the end of the bed he was laying in, looking worried.

Rohan mentally cursed himself. If the proprietor saw him like this- so vulnerable, in front of an entire crowd, he could kiss The Devil's Mercy goodbye.

Time to get my head back in the game.

He turned to Savannah, “Savvy, love, I understand you like me, but you're strangling my hand.”

Everybody looked absolutely dumbfounded. What was wrong with this guy??

Savannah immediately let go of his hand and stomped out of, what he could now tell was, his room.

Lyra sent him a glare of her own before exiting the room as well. Everyone gave their condolences and asked their questions before following suit.

The moment everyone was gone Rohan collapsed on his bed again, laying on his back with his hands spread out beside him.

He tried to sort out his thoughts.

Krish. Lakshmi, and most of all, Rukmini.

Are they still alive? Is Rukmini alright? Does she even remember me? Does mai- no. Does Lakshmi miss me?

Rohan took a deep breath as the words of the proprietor repeated in his mind, “Bury the past, Rohan.”

He calls me Row-haan. No. Bury the past. Bury it.

Rohan took a sharp breath. He would bury the past as he had done from the age of five.

He would remain in control, he would win this game, and he would have The Mercy.

Yet, as he turned off the light in his room and closed his eyes, he could hear the faint sound of somebody humming and the jingling of ghungaroos.

Rohan silenced his mind, putting a stop to the delusional noises he was hearing, but one thought remained.

Why, why, why?

————————————————— OKAY. Honestly, I kind of went overboard with the whole thing- I didn't plan on this much lore. ToT (does this count as a cliffhanger??-) Idk where the plot went either?? But, I think its a good read. (PLS TELL ME IT WAS GOOD AH- I WORKED LIT DAYS ON THIS.)

The original plot was just abt Rohan- Lyra's sibling dynamic, and Kathak awakening smth in him. The lore? Completely additional- just came with the flow.

ANYWAYS, PLS READ - @lyrakanefanatic @inkstainsonmyfingertips @musiwashere @alwaysthefangirl etc.

PS If any of u are interested in Kathak, heres a Kathak choreo on the song mentioned in the fic :DD (The song is a banger btw, do listen.)

((The dance is not mine ofc, credits to Ankita di)

[thecircularlibrary]

getaway car

f1 au

word count: 1058

warnings: n/a

pairings: averyjameson

“Why was it so hot?” Avery asked herself, standing in the luxurious Formula 1 Paddock Club, watching and waiting for the race that she and her sister watched annually as children to start. The Monaco Grand Prix. God, it even sounded like a dream. How she and Libby had gone from a couple of low income girls with low expectations thrust upon them, to an heiress and an F1 driver, Avery would never understand. One distant relative that Avery had house-sat for one summer, and suddenly she was standing in a lounge watching one of the biggest and most historic races of the year. It still shocked her sometimes.

“Long time, no see Grambs,” she heard a familiar voice say from behind her. She turned around and grinned, “Could say the same thing to you, Hawthorne.”

Grayson Hawthorne. One of her best friends. He was wearing a Ferrari bomber jacket and a white button down with black dress pants. The staple of any of the driver managers in the lounge. 

“I assume you’re keeping up your whole ‘impartial viewer’ act you put on for every race, at this race too?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then you’d be correct. And get rid of the air quotes, I really am an impartial viewer. Unlike some people, I refuse to choose between people I care about,” Avery responded, looking pointedly at the man in a jacket supporting his younger brother’s team while ignoring his older brother driving for Red Bull. She wasn’t being serious, she knew it was his job to support Ferrari, but she also knew he was in no position to throw stones.

“Listen, you know that if it weren’t for Max and Libby, you’d be wearing a jacket just like this one to support my brother,” Grayson said with a shrug before walking away to continue to mingle for sponsors for said brother.

His brother. Her boyfriend. Jameson Hawthorne. Though she would never say it to her sister or her best friend, he was the reason she was here. They could hardly blame her either, Libby lived with her in Ithaca and Max was four hours away in NYC. Meanwhile, from March to December, Jameson was 3,485 miles away in London. The plan was for her to move over there when she graduated from college and continue her work there. However, at 21, her college graduation was still two years away and she desperately missed him. 

They’d met at a Stand Up 2 Cancer gala two months after she’d inherited her fortune at 17. She, of course, immediately knew who he was. A Formula 2 driver and alternate for Ferrari, Jameson Hawthorne was someone worth keeping an eye on in the racing world. And Avery knew how to keep an eye on the racing world. When he approached her and asked her a riddle—“If yes is no and once is never, how many sides does a triangle have?”—she answered him. The rest was history. She became close with his brothers very quickly and Grayson and Xander became two of her closest friends. Nash was somewhat of an older brother to her.

Avery was shaken out of her memory by the first of five red lights turning on. In the qualifying rounds yesterday, Max had placed 5th, Libby 7th, Nash 2nd, and Jameson 3rd. As she watched the cars line up, she noted Nash and Libby’s Red Bull cars, Jameson’s Ferrari, and Max’s McLaren spaced out among others in that order.

She watched as the cars took off and got comfortable watching the tracker on the screen , where she’d be watching for the next two hours.

- ❁ -

At the 1 hour 30 minute mark, Jameson took his pit stop. Max took hers twenty minutes ago, Libby ten minutes ago. Nash had yet to take his. Avery knew better than to question Nash’s racing techniques: as of right now, he was the number 1 ranked driver in the circuit. However, that didn’t mean he was unbeatable. Especially not by his baby brother. 

- ❁ -

As Jameson finished his last lap, milliseconds ahead of Nash, Avery let out a cheer. Grayson smiled slyly over his shoulder at her as he clapped his hands over his head. She and Grayson left the Paddock Club to see the podium celebration. Max had taken third place, while Libby had taken fifth. While Avery was sad for her sister, she knew Libby would come back from it. Libby always came back from these things. She and Grayson watched, grinning, as Nash clapped Jameson on the back and they left the celebration after popping the champagne. 

Jameson found her immediately upon stepping off the concrete and ran towards her, sweeping her into a drugging kiss. He was still sweating and his hair was completely messy from his helmet. He was wearing his red and white racing suit. He held one hand in her hair and the other gripped her waist as she held his face in her hands. He smiled against her lips.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly enough that only she could hear. Gone was the slight twang his voice had held when they met, replaced with a subtle, barely-there, English accent.She returned his smile.

“I missed you too. I’m proud of you,” Avery couldn’t stop smiling. She hadn’t been directly rooting for him over Libby and Max, but she was rooting for him to shoot out from under Nash’s shadow, and he had done just that. 

He dipped his head to her shoulder, adrenaline mixing with the race he’d just won causing him to be out-of-breath. “We should get out of here.”

Avery sighed in sympathy before patting his hair. “We can’t. Grayson’s looking for you to go back to the Paddock club and mingle. He says you need more sponsors, Jamie.”

Jameson rolled his eyes.

“The only thing I need is time with my girlfriend that lives over 3,000 miles away,” he said, about as exasperated as anyone who's boss has hired their older brother to keep them in line. Avery pulled out her phone.

“I can call my driver. We can go back to the suite and order room service and margaritas,” she offered, letting herself be 21 for once in her life.

He looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’ll drive.”

[runningoutofink8]

quick question for the fandom!!! i need an answer promptly.

what kind of songs would max listen to?

like i need artists, song names ect:

please?! thank you!

xx mira

[averygrambsbankaccount]

merry Christmas (eve)!! this one wasn’t requested but I wanted to write a fun little christmas fic. I know the idea of this fic is kinda ridiculous and unrealistic but I thought it was funny (: I hope you guys enjoy 💗

word count: 3292

A Hawthorne Christmas Special Disaster

Christmas at Hawthorne House was magical, and everyone knew it. It was better than the North Pole itself. Christmas trees were in every hall, every room, so many of them it would be a fools errand to even attempt to count them. There were wreaths on every door, mistletoe on every chandelier, eggnog and hot chocolate on every table, and high Christmas spirit all throughout.

So, to put it simply, it was magical. A winter wonderland, so to speak!

This Christmas Eve, the House was full of guests. The usuals; Avery, Libby, and the Hawthorne brothers, along with Oren, Alisa, Nan, Thea, Rebecca, Max, and Zara. New additions this year were Gigi; Grayson’s cheerful younger sister who was basically the embodiment of the word hyper, and Grayson’s new girlfriend, Lyra. 

The house was practically bursting at the seams with how many guests were staying this Holiday, but Avery stayed true to the statement The more the merrier! and reacted positively to every new arrival the night before Christmas.

With so many people there, the presents were overflowing too. So, they all agreed to put them in one room, and they would all be transported to the biggest tree in the house that night. The room was covered from floor to ceiling in presents, varieties of coloured wrapping paper making it a bit hard on the eyes.

Even with the presents taking up most of the space, Xander somehow still managed to run one of his contraptions through the rooms. Someone should really be monitoring him at all times, and maybe that was where they went wrong. Unattended, Xander usually managed to do one of his favourite things, even by accident; blow stuff up. 

Whilst everyone went about their day, preparing for the big holiday coming up so soon, Xander was causing some big trouble. In his defense, he didn’t know it would blow up like that.

Avery and Jameson were in the library together when they heard the firework sounding, extremely close, extremely concerning, boom. It was even more absurd considering how quiet the library had been moments before the explosion had rocked it.

“Did a bomb just go off?” Avery was quite calm, albeit very confused.

“No,” Jameson took her hand and started leading her to the direction of the explosion noise. “I think it’s more likely Xander just went off.”

Grayson was sitting quietly, working at his desk with Lyra on her phone behind him when the incident occurred.

“What the fuck goes on this house?” Lyra sat up.

“Xander,” Grayson stood, sighing internally. “And I believe it’d be more accurate to describe it as him going off.”

Oren was keeping an eye on the security cameras when Xander made the Christmas big bang happen, so he had the pleasure of watching it all happen in real time. He rubbed his forehead in frustration when one of his men walked on.

“Sir, we heard the explosion. Is there a threat?”

“No,” Oren sighed. “Just Xander. Again.”

It seemed everyone was used to his antics by now.

The loud noise of the explosion soon led them all to the room where it happened, where Xander was currently standing with half an eyebrow missing, a face caked in dirt, and a shocked expression.

“Ok!” Xander exclaimed as they all walked into the room. “It was an accident, I swear!”

“Did it really have to happen in the room where all the presents are?” Thea sniped.

“Um,” Max quietly commented. “I think you mean the room where the presents were.”

“They do seem to have disappeared.” Rebecca pursed her lips, and a collective sigh of exasperation seemed to echo through the room.

———

The presents really did seem to have disappeared. If you looked at the broken windows or the literal hole in the wall, it wasn’t too hard to discern where they had gone to.

“They’re out on the grounds!” Libby ran her hands through her hair. “They could be anywhere! They could be gone!”

“Ok, everyone calm down,” Nash put his arm around Libby’s shoulder. “They gotta be out there somewhere. Let’s all just go look. I’m sure we could find them.”

“And if we don’t, Santa can just bring us replacement ones!” Gigi said, then in respond to the looks she was given added: “I’m joking! Duh!” (But the way she looked down sure didn’t make it seem like she was joking)

“So, we go look. Isn’t this what Christmas is about? Finding hope when all is lost?” Avery tried to bring up the mood.

Max scoffed. “Actually, Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, which I have already informed you of, Avery-“

Zara brought her hands together, abruptly ending that sentence. “Let’s just go look for those damned presents, shall we?”

There was a chorus of agreement throughout the room, and they started to make their plans to divide and conquer. Avery turned to her boyfriend beside her and noticed the especially nervous look on his face.

“Jameson?” Avery looked at him with concern in her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jameson put his hands on her shoulders. “Why don’t you go with Gigi and Lyra…I think I’m gonna go with my brothers.”  

Avery nodded, biting her lip in worry. She didn’t want to say anything, but she feared he was hiding something from her. 

The groups were made and the plan wasn’t really a plan at all; it was just look. It felt a bit like they were saving Christmas.

As everyone shuffled out of the room, Xander’s voice called out one last time to them all; “I’m really sorry guys! I swear! It won’t happen again!”

“It will,” Nan snorted from her seat next to the piano. “Oh, it will.”

Avery, Lyra, and Gigi were walking along the east side of the estate, coats wrapped tightly around their bodies and their breath creating clouds in the air. It was mostly silent, until Gigi spotted a wrapped little miracle in the distance. 

“Look, I found one!” She took off running, and Avery and Lyra struggled to keep up with their freezing legs, until with no warning, Lyra was suddenly miles ahead of Avery too.

“How,” Avery panted “Are you guys so fast in this weather?” She rested her hands on her knees when she finally reached them.

“I’m a runner,” Lyra shrugged, taking the present box from Gigi’s hands.

“From Nash, to Libby.” Lyra read off the tag.

“Oooh, what do you think it is!” Gigi said excitedly. 

“None of our business.” Avery and Lyra said at basically the same time, each of them laughing a little at the coincidence.

“Jinx!” Gigi exclaimed. “I did it for you, since you guys forgot to.” She smiled brightly.

On the west side of the estate, the four Hawthorne brothers walked together. 

“Don’t look so nervous, Jamie,” Nash pushed his shoulder. “It’ll work out.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Grayson added coldly, raising a blonde eyebrow in Xander’s direction “We know who to blame.”

“Hey! I didn’t mean to blow your-“ 

“Shhh,” Jameson shushed him. “You never know who could be listening.”

Grayson silently rolled his eyes.

Xander continued, “I didn’t mean to blow your redacted out the wall! It just happened!”

“Well my ‘redacted’ is pretty darn important, Xander!”

“Let’s not fight. Maybe we should just focus on finding it.” Grayson stayed calm as ever.

“Yeah, before Avery does. That wouldn’t be good.” Nash winced just imagining it.

“God, don’t stress me out more!” Jameson ran his hands through his hair. “Everyone just…focus on looking!”

Libby, Max, Rebecca and Thea were together, but they were separated into two different duos waking close. Rebecca and Thea were a bit more focused on their romance than the presents, and Libby and Max were preoccupied with gossip.

“So, you know right?” Max whispered. “He told you?”

“Yes, of course!” Libby whispered back. “Well…technically Nash told me, but it’s fine.”

“Same,” Max giggled. “Xander told me. He’s not too good at keeping secrets from me..but not to worry, for I’m great at keeping secrets!”

“Me too,” Libby agreed. “My lips are sealed, one hundred and ten percent.”

Rebecca and Thea were caught up in a passionate conversation when one of them spotted a box sitting on the roof of a small shed. “Look, I found one!” 

“Wow, that’s a big box.” Libby commented. “How do we get it down?” 

“I’m on it!” Max was already scaling the wall.

“Uhhhh..” Thea raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Are we sure she’s not gonna like…break her leg doing that?”

“I’m fine!” Max was already on the roof, handing the wrapped box down to Libby. She climbed down the wall as easily as she had gone up it, landing on the ground without even a thud. “See?” She said smugly.

“I guess she’s got it under control.” Rebecca shrugged.

The adults of the group were together, though none of them seemed too happy about it. Alisa, Oren, and Zara walked in silence, whilst Nan had opted to stay inside and let the young ones do the dirty work.

“I’m going to kill Xander,” Alisa rubbed between her eyebrows. “I’m a lawyer, for gods sake! How do I end up cleaning up explosions every other damn day?”

“You’re Hawthorne-Adjacent,” Zara studied her nails. “You should expect this by now.”

Oren crossed his arms. “My job description said bodyguard. Now what have I become? A janitor! A directions man!”

“You’re employed to a billionaire,” Zara, ever the realist, stated. “An extremely generous one, at that. Complain all you want, but people would kill to be out here in the freezing cold looking for presents that were blown out a wall just for fun.”

None of them could disagree with that.

“I found a present.” Alisa deadpanned, pointing a manicured finger at a lonely tree on the property, somewhat resembling a Christmas tree, that had a present stuck high up in its branches.

Both the ladies turned to look at Oren, who sighed deeply and then began to climb.

Gigi and Lyra were ahead of Avery, whispering and giggling quietly. Avery looked around at the snow covered trees, and at footprints on the ground, at anything to make it seem like else wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the heavy wind made it quite hard to hear what they were saying, but it was clearly something she wasn’t meant to know.

Is everyone keeping something from me? At this point, she was getting a little pissed off.

The brothers walked in silence, looking out on the mostly undisturbed snow. 

“Look!” Xander called out of the blue. “Down that hill!”

Sure enough, down the hill was a jackpot. It seems lots of the presents had tumbled right down into there.

Nash whistled. “Looks like we got ourselves some carrying to do.”

Jameson jogged down the hill, throwing big boxes out of his way in his rush to find it. But, in the giant pile of big presents, there was no little, perfectly wrapped one.

“It’s not here,” Jameson threw his head back. “It’s not here!”

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Xander patted his back. “We will find it! We will not give up!”

“Do I have to carry all these back myself?” Grayson snapped them back to reality with his cold voice.

They got to work.

“Do you think the others have had any luck?” Alisa has by now realized there her shoe choice wasn’t the most…practical for this activity. Although, Zara was wearing heels too and seemed perfectly fine.

“I sure hope so,” The cold air biting at her ankles didn’t bother Zara one bit. “They will be beside themselves if this holiday is ruined. And I mean, honestly, I would just like to relax for now.”

Alisa was opening her mouth to agree when her heel caught on something and she fell forward. Oren caught her in her arms and she put a hand to her chest.

“God, that scared me.” Alisa looked down at the tiny box she had tripped over, which Zara was currently picking up.

Alisa’s eyes narrowed. “Give me that,” She snatched it from her hands.

When she saw the shape of the box and the names written on the top, Alisa was hit with a headache which can only be described as the headache of an impending PR nightmare.

“Jameson Winchester Hawthorne!” She screamed, loud enough that everyone near Hawthorne house would surely hear.

“Did you hear that?” Avery looked up from the ground.

Lyra and Gigi looked up too. 

“Um,” Lyra looked at Gigi nervously. “Should we go check on them?”

“First you guys need to tell me what you’re whispering about,” Avery crossed her arms and stood in front of the pair.

“I want to, so bad! But I-“ Gigi burst out, and Lyra slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Listen, Avery, I’m sorry. But..you’ll know soon enough anyways.”

Avery side eyed her. She’d heard that one before.

“I’m telling the truth!” Lyra defended herself.

Avery was stopped from responding by the sight of all four Hawthorne brothers coming into view, walking hurriedly. They were heading towards the sound of the yelling.

“Come on, guys.” Gigi grabbed the two girls arms and led them in the direction the brothers were heading; towards Alisa, Oren and Zara.

Alisa still stood with the box grasped tightly in her fist, looking at the approaching Jameson with a blank look on her face.

“Seriously?” She muttered. 

Jameson looked at the small present box in her hand, internally sighing in relief that it wasn’t lost forever. “Uh..yeah.”

“She’s 19! You’re 20! Do you know what they’ll be saying in that tabloids? And god knows I’ll be the only one working to fix that!” She scolded him.

Jameson bit his lip, looking behind him for backup. His brothers all seemed preoccupied with the nature around them at the moment rather than the conversation happening in front of them.

“What’s going on?” Avery approached them, the two other girls in her group not far behind. “What’s that?”

It seemed like everyone knew something she didn’t, with the way they all looked at each other. They all knew what the hell was going on, and she had no clue.

“You guys are driving me crazy! Ugh!” She threw her hand hands in the air dramatically, beginning to walk back towards the house.

The scene was quite absurd, with everyone standing silently, watching her retreat. Alisa still held that damned box, and Jameson’s mouth was open as if to explain himself, but he stayed quiet.

“Ow! Fuck!” They heard faintly in the distance, following a barely audible banging noise. “Fucking box!”

“I found the rest of the presents!” Her voice was louder this time, and then immediately followed by the door slamming as she walked back into the house.

Their mouths stayed glued shut for a few moments before Xander decided to clear the air. 

“Ahem,” Xander started trudging through the snow. “You heard her! Get to those presents!”

It turned out, the rest of the presents had blown into a snow bank near a door of Hawthorne House, a big pile just sitting there like Santa’s sleigh had gotten into an accident.

They transported them inside in a conveyor belt system, passing them along. It was quite efficient, and soon the presents were loaded up in the foyer.

“Maybe don’t blow this room up, Xander?” Max joked.

“Don’t sweat it! I’ve learned my lesson.”

Almost everyone in the room rolled their eyes.

“Where’s Jameson?” 

“He took the box.” Alisa said, and they all made eye contact.

“Does that mean…” Libby said excitedly. 

Alisa sighed. “Honestly, I hope not.”

It did in fact mean that. Jameson found Avery in a room not too far from the foyer, sitting by herself. She looked mad.

“Avery,” He said, his voice soft.

“Jameson,” She didn’t sound as happy to see him.

“Listen, Avery, I’m really sorry. But I promise I never wanted to lie to you.”

“So you’re gonna tell me what you’ve been hiding from me?”

He nodded lightly and pulled the box out from his pocket.

She looked at it with wide eyes, suddenly thinking of a possibility she hadn’t thought of before. “I-“

“I was going to do this on Christmas.” Jameson slowly said. “But I think it’s only right to do it now.” He handed her the box.

Avery ripped off the wrapping at lightning speed and upon seeing the black box underneath it her hands started to shake. “Jameson…” Was all she managed to say.

Torturously slow but as fast as she could manage, Avery opened the box, and her eyes were immediately hit by a sparkling glow. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Probably wasn’t what she was supposed to say in that moment; but she said it anyway.

When Avery looked up, Jameson was on one knee. She gasped.

“I’ll keep this short,” He cleared his throat. “Avery, Saint Avery. I will love you for the rest of my life, and past that, and nothing will change that. I want nothing more than to be with you forever. Will you help make that wish come true? I understand if you’re not ready, and I’m prepared to wait, but…Avery Kylie Grambs, will you marry me?”

Avery could do nothing but stand in shock for a few minutes, and Jameson started to feel slightly terrified. What if she says no?

A smile started to spread across her features. “Yes!” She exclaimed. “Yes, I will!”

They kissed, and it was perfect. The perfect embodiment of the Christmas spirit, minus baby Jesus. 

This romantic, amazing, never to be re created moment was interrupted by a flood of people bursting through the doors.

Squeals of “You’re engaged!” echoed through the room and Avery and Jameson broke apart. Jameson slid the ring onto Avery’s left ring finger before they turned to face the rest of the group.

“Yeah,” Avery giggled. “We are.”

Alisa came forward. “This really is not going to hit that press well. You couldn’t have waited, like, two years? Do I really have to deal with teen pregnancy rumours?”

She paused and looked between them, seeming to be considering something.

“But, I’m happy for you two.” She smiled.

“Thank you, Alisa,” Avery hugged her, and that started a chain of Avery hugging everyone.

“My best friend is getting married! My best friend is getting married!” Max sang.

After everyone finally dispersed, Avery returned to the room of the explosion alone. There, she found Nan, still sitting alone.

“Sit, girl,” She said, mentioning to the space beside her, and Avery obeyed.

“So you’re going to be a Hawthorne?”

Avery nodded silently.

“Marriage is dangerous. Make sure he’s good to you. Tell me if he’s not.” Nan informed her bluntly.

“I-I will.” Avery smiled at her.

A few moments of silence passed, and Avery assumed that was her cue to leave. As she was walking out the door, she heard Nan say one last thing.

“Don’t tell them I said this, but I’m happy to have you apart of this wretched family, girl.”

Avery grinned at her new great-grandmother in law.

———

Christmas morning, thankfully, didn’t involve any explosions, unless the mass amount of hastily ripped wrapping paper landing on the floor counted. Some of the presents had snow or dirt on them from their trip outside, but no one seemed to care.

Christmas morning was filled with joy, and a newly engaged Avery and Jameson felt a lot of it. Everyone did.

Presents were opened, hugs (and kisses) were shared, and it became another magical Christmas at Hawthorne house.

As everyone settled down and the house was quiet in the comfortable Christmas afternoon way, a very familiar boom sounded through the house, followed by an ear piercing screech: “XANDER!”

[piastappies]

hii can i request jameson hawthorne x fem reader who is kind of like his aunts or grandfathers intern? ans j like them w a super flirty relationship and tension. ty!!

˗ˏ` INTERNSHIP! 🎞️ ´ˎ˗

pairing. jameson hawthorne x intern!reader

summary. jameson’s life seems to get undeniably more boring than ever and alisa comes with a rescue.

author’s note. i LOVE jameson hawthorne. i felt like i needed to say that. idk if this is flirty enough but i hope u like it <3 thank u so much for the req, i love my boyfriend 🫶 not proofread! i wrote it at night so might be lots of typos or grammar mistakes 👎👎

EVERYTHING WAS BORING, college was boring, annoying grayson was boring, which truthfully made jameson feel as boring as ever. it almost felt as if his life lost its true meaning. it reached the point, where avery would poke fun at him, saying things like nana probably threw a spell on you, or look at that, jameson hawthorne has nothing to do, the world is ending, which was, well… amusing, although he couldn’t admit it.

jameson’s life was getting more and more monotonous each day and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with it. there was no thrill, no adrenaline rushing through his veins, nothing — and as a certified middle child, he was going absolutely crazy, becoming almost insufferable. xander thought it was funny, seeing him all worked up, but not at all at the same time.

it would go on until alisa brought an intern, who — as it turned out later — was the girl he met on a trip to tuscany during his gap year. someone he had an incredible connection with, but back then, jameson didn’t want any strings attached, which��� resulted in a wave of regret, because he couldn’t let himself get your name.

hawthorne could feel his throat getting dry as his eyes scanned your outfit. the light beige shirt with the top button undone, so it wouldn’t suffocate you, the pencil skirt hugging your hips and thighs, exposing your legs almost perfectly. if he was even more unhinged than he usually is, he would probably had his mouth full of foam.

what was even worse than the outfit, which made him extremely feral, was that you didn’t even flinch when alisa introduced you and your eyes fell upon him. maybe he was wrong and mistook you for the tuscany girl? maybe you were just a random girl, who looked incredibly attractive in her work attire, that looked extremely similar to other girl he met in italy? so many questions, yet so little answers.

a long sigh has left your lips, the second you ran your face with cold water. of course, your luck had to bring you to the house of the guy you spent the best month of your life with. how was that even possible? neither of you had ever believed in the ‘we’ll meet again if we’re meant to be’ type of thing. you always said that life is made by coincidences, nothing is ever planned for you beforehand and as long as you’ve the money, no one will care what you’re doing. but here you were, in his house, wearing pieces of clothing you wouldn’t wear if you knew, feeling like a crap from pulling an all nighter the night before.

jameson winchester hawthorne has looked as good as you remembered him. dark, velvet dress shirt embracing his toned stomach and muscular arms that once (or twice) were wrapped around you. though, after all this time, he still wore the rings you bought him, which made your heart race.

you genuinely thought that the racing of your heart would stop after some time, especially since the internship at mcnamara, oren and jones had you spending an excruciating amount of time in the hawthorne house with jameson always being somewhere around. he’d often find you in the hallway, hardly ever exchanging more than few words, though always making sure to brush against your skin slightly.

“you’re agitating.” you muttered, when his back leaned against the counter, while you were fixing yourself a coffee, which unlike at the company, was truly amazing. “don’t have anything better to do?”

“c’mon, yn.” he sighed almost playfully, rolling his eyes at you. “can’t even crack a smile for me?” jameson’s tone coated your mind, sending a warm wave to your cheeks. it was the most thrilling thing to him these last couple weeks. seeing you get so flustered over the smallest act gave him the same feeling like when he cliff dived.

“i’m working, jameson.” the way his name rolled off your tongue made him smile. “it’s not tuscany. i need to get stuff done.”

“you remember tuscany, huh?”

this man was driving you insane. the way he smirked at you, the way his words had such an effect on you, the way he always knew what to say to make you flustered. “you’re such an idiot.” was all you said about his last comment, rolling your eyes at him as you noticed the red lipstick stain on the white mug.

YOU COULDN’T REALLY PINPOINT THE MOMENT when the strictly–formal conversations with the hawthorne brothers and grambs sisters became so casual. you couldn’t wait for the hawthorne days as you called them, when you could leave the bureau and the paperwork to join alisa with whatever she was doing there. most of the time, xander would steal you away to ask you the stupidest questions about law enforcement and law in general just to leave you fifteen minutes later.

as much as you tried to push jameson away to not raise any suspicions of the history you had, he was irresistible. always making sure to tease you in some kind of way. unfortunately or not, you started caving in, just like he predicted.

before you know it, your thighs were met with the cold surface of the bathroom counter in some fancy restaurant, the fabric of your emerald silky dress has ridden up as jameson pushed his right hand up your thigh, the left one squeezed your waist. his lips were pressed against yours, moving with a rough, possessive manner. some would say it was the tense atmosphere building up, when he couldn’t get you where he wanted.

and in that exact day, exact moment, jameson had you right when he wanted. it was a casual hangout, just him, his brothers, libby, avery and her friend, who also happened to be soon to–be–girlfriend of his youngest brother. but to jameson’s pleasure, everyone grew so fond of you that avery suggested you should go with them.

the theme was comfort, but elegant. so, the outfit of your choice was the silky dress that was accompanied by the necklace you got back in italy. the first words that came out of jameson’s mouth was a stutter. the sight of you made him stumble over the sentence he tried to make.

“you look — so amazing.” he groaned as his lips made a trail down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine, when his teeth had bitten the sweet spot right above your collarbone. “so fucking gorgeous.” the chain of praises was never ending.

your hands got on the collar of his shirt, gripping it as he continued to leave marks on your collarbones and shoulders. as much as you enjoyed his actions, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. you pulled him up, hungrily crashing your mouth into his.

fifteen minutes later, the red lipstick was nowhere to be found on your face. on the other hand, there were lots of it on jameson. you were still sitting on the marble counter, legs wrapped around hawthorne’s hips. his mood was definitely better as he was zipping up your dress.

“a quickie in the bathroom, when did you turn so naughty, hm?” a chuckle escaped mouth as he watched you wipe the excess of your lipstick off his chin and bottom lip. “i met this cute guy during my vacation in europe. a real charmer.” you replied with a smirk, fixing the lacy strings of the dress as you jumped off the counter.

your chest was touching his, but neither of you moved away. you were still a little breathless from the unexpected activity and to be completely honest, it wasn’t enough — just looking at his stupid, handsome face made you crave him even more. you weren’t the only one though, considering that hawthorne couldn’t take his hands off of you as he brought one to your chin, tilting it upwards to have an easy access to kiss you again.

an involuntary grin hovered over your lips as his fingers brushed your cheek in a tender manner, before fixing his messy hair and leaving the bathroom. he closed the door just to open it again to wink at you and leave to get back to his siblings.

YOU COULD TELL that everyone already knew about the tiny thing going on between you and jameson. nevertheless, pretending like it wasn’t true was easier than admitting it. as long as alisa wasn’t asking any questions or forbidding you from showing up to the hawthorne house, you didn’t really care.

it was early, maybe even too early for your liking, when the alarm in your phone went off, earning a hoarse, incoherent groan from jameson, whose arm only tightened around your naked body. the only things covering you from flashing someone accidentally were the white sheets that kept you warm at night.

“turn it off.” another groan escaped his throat. he knew what this meant, it was five o’clock and you had to get to your dorm to get ready for the bureaucratic nightmare, as he liked to call it, at the law firm, which always handled all his familial issues. “gorgeous, there are lots of your stuff here, just go back to sleep. you can get ready here.”

“i can’t.” you replied, planting a few sweet kisses on his bare shoulder. “everyone will know i was here if i left later.” you added, your voice soft. your fingernails gently scratching the back of his neck.

“you act like they don’t know already.” you could swear he just laughed, his sleepy demeanour made him even more attractice at this point. “sorry to break it to you, gorg, but once you start, you forget all about quietness.” ironically, this shut you up immediately, red already spreading all over your cheeks.

“you know what’s funny?” a question rolled off his tongue, catching your interest, even though you couldn’t quite make out his words as his face was buried in the white pillow. “xander texted me to ask you to moan a few decibels less.”

“oh god, i am never leaving this room again.” you said embarrassed, hiding your face in hawthorne’s arm.

“i like that idea.” he laughed, pulling you even closer, shifting a little to shut your phone off completely. “make it my early christmas gift.”

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

avery x jameson masterlist

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

sweet nothings - avery x jameson

fixed car - avery x jameson

averyjameson as girl parents

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

[aaal-iz-well]

guys i have this fic in mind, and i have the first chapter written out and all, and it's basically what if, after hannah died, the rooney's got to avery, and took her in.

at first, she was really happy because she has family now, someplace she belongs, and then she realises how wrong she was and what a mess she'd gotten herself into.

now the rooney's kidnap jameson to ask for ransom from tobias hawthorne, but that doesnt go as planned. so avery thinks that since they didnt get things their way, their going to hurt jameson and therefore, tries to free him, but...

lets just say things happen.

now that's really all i have written about this, but i really like this AU and want yall's suggestions because what i've written above is about where my mind draws a blank.

so PLEASE anything, ANYTHING, that you might want to say is the most welcome

[viivdle]

“Just don’t talk,” he interrupted her. “Just. Don’t.”

hi guys.............. so after four months of abandoning my averyjameson taylor swift fanfic, i returned

sorry

[riddles-n-games]

Let It Hurt

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: A rewrite of Ch. 54 in the first book. Alternate take post first kiss at the Wayback Cottage where Avery is more angsty and doesn't let Jameson go that easy. Length: Moderate Story Type: Rewrite

ANNOUCEMENT: I'm starting a tag list. If you want to be included, comment down below! Also, to access my TIG master list of fics, here's the link to the expanded view of my blog: riddles-n-games.tumblr.com. Click the icon Hawthorne Vault, that's where you'll find hidden treasure.

A/N: Hi guys! I'm sooo excited to be posting this one. It's been a long time in drafts and I was lost with how to continue it but I just know I really wanted Avery to be hurt but accidentally didn't try hard enough to make Jameson stop kissing her again. This gets deeper in their feelings and so it kinda makes Jameson sound like he's his THL self but still in line with his TIG self as well. Enjoy!

Kissing him felt like fire. He wasn't soft or sweet, the way he had been while washing away the blood and dirt. I didn't need soft or sweet. This was exactly what I needed.

    Maybe I could be what he needed, too. Maybe this didn’t have to be a bad idea. Maybe the complications were worth it.

    He pulled back from the kiss, his lips only an inch away from mine. “I always knew you were special.”

    I felt his breath on my face. I felt every last one of those words. I’d never thought of myself as special. I’d been invisible for so long. Wallpaper. Even after I’d become the biggest story in the world, it had never really felt like anyone was paying attention to me. The real me.

    “We’re so close now,” Jameson murmured. “I can feel it.” There was an energy in his voice, like the buzzing of a neon light. “Someone obviously didn’t want us looking at that tree.”

    What? 

    He went to kiss me again, cupping my cheek in his hand and with my heart sinking, I sadly wasn’t fast enough to turn my head away as his mouth connected with mine. I couldn't stop the lone tear that slid down my face. The shock of his words only started to hit me then and I wished it didn’t hurt so much but it did, even as I subconsciously reciprocated the kiss. 

    For a moment, I tried to will the hurt away, to pretend that this was what it was like to get kissed by a boy that liked me. I hated that his body felt snug against me and how it felt right. We didn’t actually like each other in that way, he just needed me to solve his grandfather’s last mystery and then I’d be discarded. I was no Emily but then, I never would want to be her anyway. 

    She was a life lesson of what not to be; a spoiled little girl who was more trouble than she was worth, got everything she wanted and got away with anything. Even if something was most definitely her fault, somehow everyone else was responsible. Well, the princess fell from the tower at some point. But even though I was tired of being associated with a dead girl that was six feet below the ground in a grave, I was continuously being dealt that card to no avail.

    The biggest irony of all was that I was in the house where her presence was most felt, like the ghost of her was overhead, hovering behind me, following my every move. 

    When he pulled away, I pushed at his chest and turned on my heel, trying to put as much distance between us. Hearing him grunt in surprise was only the tiniest bit satisfying as I made my way back to the room. There was some muffled mumbling that sounded an awful lot like “deserved that” but even so I didn’t care.

    I stopped at the beds and looked from one to the other. Which was hers? As I took in every fine detail of the quilt, my hand subconsciously went to my chest, ghosting over the pattern of the wound. I was in a dead girl’s room. I was almost killed tonight. There had been wood in my chest, there could have been a bullet buried there instead. Jameson could have been hurt or killed; if the bullet had ricocheted, it easily could have hit him. 

    Both of us could have come out of this very differently if it weren’t for those “hadn’t beens”. But Jameson didn’t seem to see it that way. No, because he was busy thinking about a tree. Anger flared inside me at the reminder. I understood he had laser focus but I thought he had room for a little bit of empathy and logic. 

    My mind shot to alertness when I heard nearby shuffling until I realized it was coming from the bathroom and heard him step into the bedroom. I crossed my arms and kept my eyes trained on the bedpost in front of me, not letting myself look up when I knew he was right behind me. He sighed softly. 

    “Heiress?” I didn’t reply. Another sigh. “Look, I know I came off as in-

    “I could’ve been shot.” 

    “Pardon? I didn’t-”

    “I said I could’ve been shot.” I spun around, catching him blink in surprise. “Shot, Jameson. Do you know what that means?” I stared at him sharply for a long moment before he looked aside, something like guilt or shame evident on his face. “I just inherited your family’s stupidly big fortune which made me a target of basically everyone related to you and anyone else in the world that made me their problem. I could have been killed. You could have been. Don’t you get that?”

    He looked up again and tilted his head, giving me a small wry smile. “Don’t worry about me, Heiress. A bullet still wouldn’t stop me.” My jaw dropped; he was still attempting humor. 

     “A-Are you being serious right now? Do you hear yourself?” He stayed silent. “Oren just pulled a chunk of wood out of my chest and if things had worked out a little differently, he could have been pulling out a bullet. Same goes for you. And meanwhile you’re over here thinking about a damn tree? This mystery, us running around acting like we’re Mystery Inc, you figuring out why your grandfather chose me, it’s all meaningless to you if I die. And if you got shot, your family would be out for me, we both know that much. And then what? Not everything is a game, Hawthorne.”

    “Perhaps you’re right but that’s just it, MG. If Emily taught me anything, it’s that everything is a game. Even this.” I was about ready to throttle him. But I withheld and rolled my eyes, laughing anxiously instead. “Jameson, get real. Emily’s dead, I almost died, your grandfather is dead, you’re not one of the heirs, your family hates me, the inheritance is not in the rightful hands, and now someone is after me. This is reality for me and you right now. This isn’t in your head. Life comes with risk, I know, but this isn’t a game.” 

    That elicited a reaction. His jaw got tight and his eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I know that Heiress? Unfortunately, my grandfather raised us treating everything like a damn game from the moment we could talk and think. Don’t pretend you even know the beginning of my life story, we’d be here all day.”

    “And I’m not. But you are acting like what just happened is something to push aside. Newsflash, it can’t be. I can get you pretending that covering me with yourself in the woods, cleaning my wound, our kiss doesn’t matter but not my life or yours being on the line for some stupid mystery. That’s all I ask.” That’s when it hit me. “Why do you act like that? Like you don’t matter?”

    I caught the panic in his eyes when they widened for a brief second as he turned away from me and ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. He’d been doing that a lot. After a long pause he spoke. “Because I’ve done worse. There’s a lot of things from my past that I’m not proud of. Things with Gray, things with Emily, things with Xan and Nash, the old man…” I put a hand on his shoulder. He side-eyed me and smirked knowingly. “If you’re expecting for this to turn into a confession, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” 

    This time I sighed and shook my head. “No, I don’t. I don’t expect you to say anything you’re not comfortable sharing. But Jameson? We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, don’t be so hard on yourself for that.” 

    He turned his head toward me fully and the smirk turned into his signature crooked grin. “Don’t pity me, Heiress. Self loathing is a very good look for me.” But I saw the sadness in his eyes and something about it gave me a hollow feeling, like he’d been holding it in for so long. Yet that didn’t last either. “I know what you’re thinking and contrary to what you believe, I deserve it. Call it my role in the family.” 

    My hand slid from his shoulder and swiped at the mussy hairs stuck to my forehead. Then, I sidestepped him to pace around the room. I wasn’t sure how much more beating around the bush I could take.

    “I thought that was my thing,” he said. I glared at him in passing. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

    “Can you just let me think in silence for a second? I mean, would it kill you to stop making everything a joke?”

    “Hey, this wasn’t ever going to be a pity party, Heiress. Not my style. I’ve been honest about that mu-”

    “Stop it! Just… stop.” I walked over to him and took his hands in mine. “Look at me, Jameson.” He did, surprisingly. I lowered my voice and spoke gently. “I know you’re not okay. I know you’re sad. You have been for a long time. It’s caused you deep pain, I’ve felt that way, too.” I felt him go very still and for a long minute, he was quiet. 

    He exhaled shakily and his eyes were averted. There was the rawness again. “I’m not very good at this, Avery. I’m terrible at hurting.”

    Avery. He said my name; that’s when I knew he meant it. I let go of his hands and cupped his face in mine which made him meet my gaze. I felt like crying just seeing his misery. “I know you are. You can take all the time you need. But you can’t fix the issue by avoiding it.”

    Jameson inhaled sharply and rose to his full height, shaking his head again and went to stand against the wall. “I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t.” His voice had gone so quiet, I could barely hear him. I followed after him and while I stopped just far enough that he had some space, I still reached an arm out and placed my hand on his back. He flinched slightly but didn’t tell me to move it and I didn’t retract either.

    “Look, I’m sorry that this might be pushing you too far.” He didn’t say anything. “You can be mad at me like I am at you for tonight but in truth, I think you’re just mad at yourself.” His head tilted to my side and I saw his mouth open but I plowed on. “You don’t have to tell me anything about your past. You don’t have to clarify. We can pretend everything else is a game. But not this. You matter Jameson and hate me for telling you that but that’s something you’ll have to eventually admit to yourself. It doesn’t have to be out loud with anyone around. It just has to be you admitting to yourself that you matter because you do.”

    “I-”

    “And I know this sounds worse but there are people who care about you: your brothers, your Nan, your aunt, I think, and you know, I’d even say me. You matter to me, Jameson. I may not know too much about you but I know a bleeding heart when I see one, especially one who hates themselves. I’ve been there myself, Libby too.” That’s when I heard the broken laugh. 

    “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

    I shook my head. “Nope, why do you think I’m still here?” He turned around and leaned on the wall, eyes red and hair covering his right eye but he was smiling that crooked smile. It was raw and edgy but it looked good on him.

    My stomach did a little flip flop. Stop it, now’s not the time. I stepped closer to him, swiping at the forelock but when I pulled my arm back, he gently wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged me to him. I shuffled forward a little more till I was practically leaning on him and his other hand went to my hip. The hand that was entwined with his was resting on his chest and it seemed like he was mindlessly rubbing circles into the back of my hand, as if distracting himself. We stayed in silence for a few minutes which seemed to stretch into an hour. Finally, Jameson spoke up.

    “Listen, Heiress, I owe you an-”

    “I forgive you.” 

    He shook his head. “Nuh-uh-uh. Not so fast. You got to give your little speech without interruptions. Now that I am in the mood to talk, you want to interrupt? Tsk-tsk.” I arched an eyebrow at him and he simply winked. His voice lowered, “I’m warning you though, this might be a shitty apology.” Oh, I’m prepared for that. But I didn’t say that out loud, just nodded and waited for him to continue. 

    “Hmmm-ahh. Hah, I’m already failing this. I’m sorry for what happened back there and here. I know it was serious and could’ve been bad news for both of us.” He looked to my wound and brought a thumb over it, air tracing it but hovered so close to my skin that I could practically feel his touch. “I was worried about you, still am.” Then through his teeth I heard him mutter something more softly. It sounded something along the lines of “Maybe-something-always.” but I couldn’t be sure.

    “That wound could have been fatal and I am angry we didn’t spare that but it doesn’t change the fact you’re still here kicking. Avery, if there’s anything I can give you full credit for, it’s your tenacity. I admire that a lot.” I felt a smile tugging at my lips. “About the tree thing, um, that’s how I learned to push away all the bad stuff, by focusing on the next clue. Those Saturday games helped me learn to focus on one thing even when there was something in the back of my mind. And to your final point; you are right. If I got shot or died, Nash would find a way to bring me back just so he could whoop my ass.”

    I smirked at the last bit. “I’m sure he would. I could try to protect you, though.”

    “Heh, you can try. But I wasn’t wrong when I said this was a game.”

    “Jameson…”

    “Hear me out. This is a game, a dangerous one and because of the risks and stakes, this,” he pointed to my wound, “is exactly what can happen. People will be out for you, more now than ever. But, if you still want to find out why my grandfather chose you, then the reward is considered higher than the risk. However, that’s up to you. And I can go back myself because I know these grounds.” He stared at me intently and I knew what he implied with the unspoken words. He wants me safe. The feeling warmed me but turned to ice shards because I knew he still wanted to risk himself.

    I shook my head. “Jameson, you were with me. I don’t know if that person was potentially after you too. I don’t want you to risk yourself.” What if the bullet strikes its mark this time? I leaned my head against his chest but he didn’t let me be that way for long. He cupped the back of my head and made me look up at him.

    “Do you trust me?”

    “No.” He smiled.

    “Good. But do you trust that we’re a good team?” I bit my lip but nodded in the end. “I can take worse risks, Heiress, and I found ways out of shadier spots. I’ll look through the security logs to find a safe path to the tree, I can promise you that much. Also, tell Oren to block that fireplace entrance in your room.” I nodded frantically. Then, he whispered the quietest I ever heard him. “I know you don’t have reason to trust any of us but me and my brothers don’t have anything against you even though Gray was acting like you’re a conwom-,” I snorted while he briefly smirked but quickly turned serious again, “If there’s anything good the old man taught us it was loyalty to each other no matter the circumstance.”

    I nodded again for what felt like the hundredth time. Then, I carefully wrapped my arms around his upper torso and hugged him, burying my head into his shoulder. His went to the small of my back and I felt him rubbing circles into my shirt like earlier. “Thank you, that means a lot. I still think you’re an idiot for wanting to do this but I won’t stop you. I’ll even distract Oren.” 

    “Great, does that mean I can kiss you again?” I pulled away from him immediately and raised an eyebrow in question. He was smiling cheekily and winked. But his eyes held that same intensity when he was focused and were tempting me. Well? Will you? Before I could think twice, I pulled him down by his hoodie strings and pressed my lips to his hard. Jameson had no trouble catching on and he lifted me up by the thighs, letting me wrap my legs around his waist before readjusting his arms to my back. I also curled my arm around his shoulder and clutched the fabric of his hoodie at his shoulder blade. It was a deep kiss but it was sweet. Ok, so a bit sweet isn’t bad. 

    When we parted, I was panting but he wasn’t. What a shocker. Instead, he was observing my face and I could imagine what he saw; the cuts, raw and red, scratches from the bark. Before I could ask anything, he leaned close and pressed soft kisses to each one. I closed my eyes. When he kissed my forehead last and he pulled back, I opened them again to find him smiling softly at me. It made me smile too and I didn’t hesitate to lean forward again to give him a light kiss in thanks. 

    Unfortunately, at that same moment a hushed gasp came from the hall.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed that. See you next time. Also, I'm updating my master list of fics so the last few including this one will be there for you.

[starrynightsxo]

CAN SOMEONE??? WRITE ME??? AN ANGRY??? LOVE CONFESSION FIC???? WITH JEALOUSY???? FROM A CERTAIN?? AVERY??? KYLIE??? GRAMBS????

IM LOOKING AT YOU ALL IM DESPERATE @viivdle @lxvebelle @x-liv25-jamieswife @artstatues ... OR ANYONE ATP??

[thecircularlibrary]

can you make a fic of Hawthorne game night will all the boys and their girls/wife

enjoy these excerpts from their game night!! sorry if it's a little short :/ fun fact: the cards against humanity game is inspired by a real one i played the other day

is that legal?

a hawthorne game night

word count: 894

warnings: cursing (they play cards against humanity for goodness sake)

pairings: all of them (except averygrayson fuck off)

As soon as Avery picked up the black card in their Cards Against Humanity game, she knew that she was screwed. There was no possible way she could come out of this alive and well. She needed to accept that. She looked down at the card to read it aloud and visibly cringed.

“Well if ______ is a crime, then lock me up!” She read, crying internally. “Please don’t make me say something stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Heiress,” Jameson said next to her, smirking in a way that completely contradicted his statement. Avery looked around the circle to see everyone excitedly putting down their white cards.

Once everyone had placed them, Avery picked them up and shuffled all seven of them in her hand. She read them one by one.

“Changing people’s minds with logic and facts,” Lyra.

“Getting drugs off the streets and into my body,” Jameson.

“These hoes,” Libby. “Are you serious? That isn’t even grammatically correct.” 

“The Blood of Christ,” Grayson.

“White privilege,” Xander.

“Existing as a person of color,” Max.

“Lumberjack fantasies,” Nash.

Avery picked Jameson’s card. She wasn’t going to touch Xander and Max’s.

The next person to draw a black card was Lyra. “Why is Brett so sweaty?”

Avery looked at her hand and sighed. Her cards were awful. She slid “Fox News” into the deck and called it a day. As Lyra read the submissions, there were a few standouts that were not Avery’s.

Jameson’s card: “Fucking my sister” and Max’s card: “Our mutual friend, Brad.”

Max won. The whole game.

⤨☾⚝✯❁✯⚝☽⤪

“We either play Sushi GO, Throw-Throw-Burrito, Apples to Apples, or Uno. While I know it’s a hard choice, it can be decided easily if we have a fair vote and keep it civil, okay?”

Avery rolled her eyes from the kitchen at the sound of Xander’s voice trying to gaslight everyone into playing Throw-Throw-Burrito, which was confusing. Especially since there was no possible way it would work, considering he was the only one who liked the game. As she came back into the living room with a cheese board for his “vote” she laughed to herself.

“All for Apples to Apples, the kid version of the game we just played?” Xander asked. Max’s hand went up.

“Now Max, you know you can only vote once, right?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then. All for the card game involving raw fish toppings?” No hands went up.

“Anyone for the greatest game of all time, involving calculated risk, accurate aim, and speed/agility? Also known as Throw-Throw-Burrito?” Xander’s hand was the only one that went up.

“I thought he was describing Uno for a second,” Jameson whispered in her ear as he grabbed a piece of cheese from the board on her lap. She grinned at him.

“Fine,” Xander exhaled. “Who wants to play Uno?”

⤨☾⚝✯❁✯⚝☽⤪

Playing Uno was a mistake, unfortunately. They should’ve just fumbled their way through Throw-Throw-Burrito. Because now that the game was down to Avery, Jameson, Lyra, and Grayson, it was getting aggressive. Specifically between Lyra and Jameson.

“I skipped you. Just like your dad,” Lyra said after playing the card. Grayson’s eyes widened.

“I don’t know how on Earth you think you can talk?” Jameson inquired as Avery and Grayson played their cards and it came back to Lyra. She played a reverse. “Because I’m the one who can actually place cards.”

“I refuse to argue with someone who started an online relationship,” Jameson mumbled. Avery elbowed him. He threw her a very specific look that had her giggling at the situation that was hilarious to her, considering she and Grayson both had two cards since Lyra kept dodging Jameson’s turn. When Grayson won, Jameson had to walk out of the room. Avery expected him not to return. The thing about a sore winner like Jameson, is that they tended to be sore losers too. To everyone’s surprise, he returned in the middle of their movie break, in which they watched Little Women, with a deck of cards.

“Let’s play Blackjack,” he grinned.

⤨☾⚝✯❁✯⚝☽⤪

They did not play Blackjack. They did play Slapjack.

“Ow!!” Xander’s yell rang out in the living room as he collected the cards he’d slapped. 

“My bad,” uttered Nash, who hadn’t quite gotten to the deck fast enough and landed a full force slap onto Xander’s hand. This was the eighth time he’d done this. He was three cards from being out of the game, leaving Avery, Xander, and Libby in the lead. Libby was winning.

The card pile quickly grew to over twenty cards. Nash was long out of the game and everybody but the final three was hoping to slap back in. Avery and Xander were running out of cards. They almost didn’t see the hand that slapped the next Jack. They did, however, see Max’s celebratory dance.

Soon, Xander was out of the game but Avery had replenished her deck and was in the lead. When the next Jack hit, she managed to secure it, hoping to secure at least one win at this game night that wasn’t chess. She and Jameson were the only ones who ever played chess.

When she did win, it was when Libby’s last card was a Jack and Avery slapped it before she could or before anyone else could slap back in. It might’ve been the sweetest victory she’d ever tasted.

[mafiasliege]

I dare you to let me go

(this is part 4 of my fic! Enjoy reading!)

Part 3 ↓

JAMESON

October is the best time Jamie had been to Scotland. Over the years, he'd visited vantage many times. It was built on a coastal cliff not too far from a lovely cove. The pleasant sunny days right before winter starts were the best. The beaches were perfectly warm and cliff-jumping into the water was a wonderful activity. At least, those are the inputs the Viscount Branford offered, except the cliff-jumping part, that was all Jameson. Branford had actually advised against it, which Jameson did not heed to, of course.

His relationship with his father may be tragically non-existent now, but his uncle made up for some of it. He'd never admit it, but he would have loved having him in his life growing up.

He'd landed in Scotland two days ago. And on the third, he'd started feeling lonely on his own and decided to dial up a redheaded Viscount who happened to be in Scotland too.

"You outdid yourself today" Jameson said, draining the last of the scotch and gesturing two fingers at the bartender.

"I did. And it looks like you can outdrink me. Tell me, was that your way of indirectly congratulating me for absolutely trouncing you at motocross?"

"In my defence, I may have underestimated you."

"And why is that?" Jameson's uncle raised a brow that reminded him too much of Grayson.

They must be worried, he thought, and then,

Stop it.

"Because you're an old man" he shrugged, to which they both ended up laughing. The drinks might be to blame, too.

7 seconds of silence died when Simon asked, "Why are you here, nephew? Surely it's not only to spend time with "an old man," as you put it."

To that, Jameson said nothing. Until a word stole his attention.

"You show up completely unannounced, and without your beloved heiress in tow, which makes me think there was a squabble, perhaps?"

"It's none of your business" he retorted with controlled fury.

"And yet I am here."

Maybe it was, in fact, the drinks, but Jameson told him everything. His uncle listened patiently. He didn't offer Jameson any advice, and at the moment, that was exactly what he needed.

After Jameson was done talking now than he probably ever did in his life, simon spoke, "are you staying at Vantage tonight as well?"

-------------------------------------------------

Jameson made it back to Vantage sometime around sunset. He always noticed, it looked so beautiful from the castle towers, or the cove. He'd considered proposing to Avery there, but then things had turned out the way they were now. He had left in such a hurry, he wasn't even sure he'd taken the ring with him, or at least hidden it away.

He couldn't hide anything from Avery, if he tried. That wasn't the problem now, though.

Now she just didn't care enough to look.

He parked the convertible in the garage built in the massive yard in front of the castle, alongside several other vintage cars that were too beautiful to be real. He discovered his affinity for vintage cars at an auction, where one of the items open for bidding was the 1962 Corvette Stingray he drove just minutes ago. The garage was huge, and a newer addition. It became a necessity because of the random thunderstorms he'd witnessed there. It was by the seaside, after all. The weather changed by the hour.

"Jameson?"

He could recognise that voice anywhere.

No. That can't be right.

He turned around to see a blur of brown hair and a worried face, and before he knew it, he was enveloped in a hug.

"You're okay" she said, much like she was trying to reassure herself. It felt nice to be hugged by her, but it was overtaken by the feeling that it took him flying off to another country for her to hug him spontaneously. So he pulled away.

He could get a good look at her now. She looked like hell. Disheveled hair, like she'd been running her fingers through it. Movements of her body that screamed exhausted. Puffy eyes from lack of sleep.

Or crying.

Jameson had seen and lived every kind of hell there is, but Avery crying made his heart break a little more every time, even when he thought it was already broken. By her, no less.

Don't fall for it. Resist it.

"Why are you here?"

"You suddenly disappear out of nowhere, you inform no one, fly off to god-knows-where on your plane you told no one you had. I was worried as hell" she fell a little short on breath, which made that last part sound even more distressed than it was. Her voice was rough too, like she had a cold. Or as if she'd been shouting.

His breath stuck at a mental image of a panicked Avery wandering around looking for him. It was so contrary to the distant, disinterested woman he'd sadly gotten used to.

If only she cared so much before.

"When did you come home?" He retorted, pushing away his thoughts, and a crumbling desire to comfort her.

"Jameson-"

"When?" He repeated.

Avery swallowed, "Eleven." He scoffed. Of course she showed up 4 hours after she was supposed to. Again. "I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I got held up by the-"

"See, that's the thing. There's always somewhere that need visiting or something that needs fixing or someone that needs saving. And you've put it above me, above us, every single time."

She seemed taken aback, and a little pale.

"Everything at both the foundations depends on me, Jameson, everything."

"So did I. But not anymore."

Avery looked even more pale now. And scared, more scared than she looked the many times people had tried to kill her. He felt a slight pang of guilt, looking at her scared expression.

You have nothing to feel guilty about.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. He pushed back the urge to wipe it away. He hated being the reason of her tears, even though she'd been the reason for so many of his. He sucked in a long breath.

"It means we can't be together anymore."

[inmyheaddd]

ok so lets pretend your averyjameson fics are canon because i can’t live without it. OKIEE?!

okie.

AWW shshsjkdhfd ur so sweet im giggling thank u sm!!??

[runningoutofink8]

if you end of making a max and xander playlist you HAVE to put like 80s romance on it i don’t know why but it SCREAMS them (ex: “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and “You Make My Dreams (Come True)”)

i LOVEEE this idea. if i do end up making a xander max playlist - i'll be appointing you in me efforts. (however currently i'm kind of focused on averyjameson given the current...situation.) xx mira