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inmyheaddd · 6 days ago

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✦ we found wonderland - averyjameson

wc: 6.5k warnings: drinking, like 2 suggestive jokes lmao a/n: this fic is for @x-liv25-jamieswife 💘🙈 i love you so much girl youre literally the funniest ever, and you are the biggest averyjameson stan in the world (and the best one) so ofc i had to write this! i'm sorry this came soo late— i know its been like a month since ur bday 😓 anyway i hope you enjoy this!!

32 seconds. That was exactly how long it took Jameson to get to Avery's room when she texted him she needed help.

He knocked hurriedly, then barged in anyway.

His breath caught in his throat— but for all the right reasons. Avery simply stood there, down at the end of the room, not in distress like he feared, with the barest hint of a laugh on her face.

She looked at him through her floor length mirror, their eyes meeting.

“Heiress? What's...'' The words died in his throat as a slow grin spread on his face, his head tilting to the side. ''I didn't know we were going out.''

She glanced over her shoulder, her hair falling in effortless waves over her backless dress— her favourite colour, emerald green.

She bit back a smile at Jameson’s expression when he walked over to her, his hand resting on her lower back.

''We aren't going out.'' She told him in the mirror. ''it's girls night.” She let those words hang in the air for a moment, studying his expression.

“Why dont you have a...'' Avery grimaced. ''a boys night, hang out a little with your brothers, I don't know.'' She shrugged a little, craning her head to see Jamesons face, feel it close to hers.

Jameson gave her a slow smile as his hands trailed across her back, ''Ive spent my whole life 'hanging out' with them,'' He rose his brows, his hands now on her shoulders. ''I think I'll pass.''

“I guess, but, I hear Xander built some new drink or dare machine. Measures your heart rate and all, so, it'll know if you're really truthful.'' She refocused her gaze on the mirror, her hands habiutally reaching for her necklace to fiddle with, but she was met with nothing.

She traced her fingers over her collarbones, tilting her head, ''Anyway, help me with my necklace?'' She asked, already picking up said necklace from her vanity.

In an instant Jameson was grinning again— of course he’d help her with her necklace, ''S'that all you called me for?'' he muttered lowly, moving her hair gently over one side of her neck.

''Yeah.'' She said through a light laugh as she handed him the necklace box. “I can barely even move in this dress.'' Avery watched him through the mirror, toying with the ends of her hair. “Thats why I only go to dinner in it.”

Jameson hummed in response , opening the box and carefully picking up the necklace and letting out a low whistle of appreciation as he saw the gleam of the diamonds.

“Well,” he started, meeting her eyes sharply in the mirror, letting his smile change into one less sweet, “I could always help you change into something more comfortable.”

Expectedly, amusement flashed across Avery’s eyes for a moment. “Please, Jameson,'' Again, expectedly, her gaze flickered away for a moment as she whacked his arm, unable to hide the flush creeping up on her face, “put the necklace on already.”

Their eyes met again in the mirror, his tongue poking his cheek as he laughed.

Jameson had got what he had wanted, which in all honesty was just seeing Avery smile. “Alright, alright,” he mumbled, that totally-not-sweet grin still on his lips as he looked back at the necklace.

His calloused fingers were a stark contrast to the delicate necklace held in between them.

Jameson purposefully let them brush against her neck as he hooked the necklace on, making tingles shoot straight down her spine.

Avery's breath hitched. Even after being together so long, his touch still managed to make her flustered.

His touch always felt softer than she remembered, which was strange, because she truly believed she had memorized the way it felt.

It was engrained in her mind. But still, every time her hands brushed over his, it felt like the first time.

Every time the pads of his fingertips touched her face, the gentleness of the act would always spark her nerves for a second, before she fell into that familiar daze of comfort she felt around him.

Now, Jameson’s expression was one of focus, his brows slightly furrowed and his lips parted the tiniest bit. He noticed the hitch— as he noticed everything— but didn't say anything.

He placed his hands on her shoulders gently, slowly moving up and down her shoulders as he looked at her once again in the mirror. His voice was light, “You're beautiful.”

Avery smiled, her heart skipping a beat, or multiple, as she turned her head to actually look at him. “You say that a lot.”

Jameson narrowed his eyes jokingly, “Of course I do, it's always true.'' He told her, and Avery turned so she was fully facing him now, eye to eye. “I'm a simple man, Heiress. I say what I see.''

She couldn't help but laugh, ''You're anything but simple.'' She told him, which was the truth.

He had so much to him, so much to know, so much to love. Simple was the last word Avery would use to describe Jameson Hawthorne.

''You spoke in riddles for the first month I knew you. You still do.''

He considered that for a moment, “Well, you answered them, did you not?'' Jameson replied simply.

Avery had to focus on holding back her smile at the memories of them when they first met, when she first realised she wanted to know Jameson. Wanted more than what she had.

''Atleast I get to be simple to you. With you.'' He continued, and there was a hint of sentiment in his words, an odd glint of sadness behind his eyes almost masked by the usual teasing glint, and something about it made Avery's heart twist.

Instinctually, Avery’s hand reached out for Jameson’s, and his thumb brushed against the back of her hand.

I get to be simple to you. She knew how much those words meant. To everyone else, Jameson had always been the reckless, yet mysterious boy who you could never truly understand.

And at first, thats what Avery had categorised him as.

She'd never been more wrong in her life.

With you. Being with Jameson was quite possibly the most right thing in her life.

It wasn't simple at first. But they tried for each other.

No one had ever put that much effort and want into getting to know Avery before.

They’ve had their fights. And after every single one of them, they’d only come out loving each other that much more.

The way he’d hold her face in his hands, like she was precious to him, the way she’d run her hands through his hair, soothing the both of them as they fell asleep in each others arms.

Simple.

Now, being with him was as easy as breathing, as simple as counting to 10. It was second nature to care for him, they were a unit.

Avery smiled, her hands on Jamesons chest. Jamesons eyes glittered as he gazed at her, his eyes flickering between her features.

“God, Jamie. I cant leave with you looking at me like that.” She slightly pushed him away, flustered. “Stop it.”

He was even closer now, and she didn't make any efforts to push him away. Instead, Avery's arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. One of his hands came to hold her face gently, his thumb brushing slow circles on her cheek.

She could feel the heat radiating off of him, “Then don't go.” Jameson murmured, his eyes fixated on her lips for a moment longer, before returning to her eyes. “Even forever isn't nearly enough when it comes to you.”

His gaze flickered between the two of her eyes, but Avery felt like he was seeing much more than that.

He saw through her, saw all the parts she didn't particularly like about herself, and only loved her more.

He loved her. She knew that.

But when she allowed herself to truly think about it, think about the fact that every time they’re together, and he looks at her, he feels the same way she does when she looks at him.

It was bizarre. A part of her almost felt like laughing and skipping around whenever she did think about it too much— like a perpetual state of joy when one finds out their crush likes them back.

God, she had a crush on her boyfriend. He had one on her. They'd been together for nearly 2 years.

She almost wanted to laugh.

Avery smiled to herself, “If I find a way to make us live forever and one day," Her arms slid down his neck, one of her hands coming to jab at his chest gently. "You'll be the first to know.''

Jameson hummed in consideration, and Avery found it hard to focus when his thumb moved up and down her cheek. ''What if I find it first?" He said lowly.

Competitions were fun, but with them together, they were infinitely more fun.

“You won’t.” She smiled, matching his grin from earlier like a poker player would. “But, you could go and get a head start— ask Xander while I'm gone with Libby.” She continued softly, a slight hum in her voice. ''If anyone knows the answer, it'd be him.''

A slow grin stretched on Jameson's lips, his other hand coming to also hold Avery's face. “Offering me a headstart? You must really like me. I was absolutely unaware that you thought I was that special.”

Avery's cheeks flushed, and she was acutely aware that his hands were on her face, so even if by some miracle he couldn't see it, he could definitely feel the way her face heated up.

She managed an eye roll and a dry chuckle, ''You're weird.''

Jameson only grinned in response, and Avery got the feeling he saw her flush and felt it.

She wanted to roll her eyes again, maybe huff, but he quickly quipped back: “You're gorgeous.”

''That's...'' Avery faltered slightly, her head tilting as she fought a smile. She was supposed to call him weird, he was supposed to annoy her back. ''That's not how it works.''

''I've never liked to do the expected, Heiress.'' He told her, hands coming away from her face, though his eyes never left hers. ''You've known that about me since day one.''

Avery would be lying if she said everything didn't suddenly seem colder without his hands on her.

She hummed in thought for a moment. She needed to change the conversation and steer his focus away from her flustered expression.

She doubted it was even possible, but she tried. “If you're always doing the unexpected, it becomes expected of you 'to do the unexpected.’ So at one point, doesn't the expected become unexpected?''

Jamesons eyes glittered slightly, and Avery knew he was revising over the question in his head. “Good question,'' Jameson responded, “Unfortunately I've just heard the word 'expected,' too many times in the last minute. I don't have an answer for you.''

“I’ve rendered you speechless?”Avery smiled, speaking in the exact same tone Jameson was speaking in moments earlier.

Jameson grinned, nodding to further emphasize that speechlessness. Avery fought back a stupid smile at the look on his face.

She could never get enough of his smile, his humor, his voice, of him. Ever.

Avery rose her brows in a display of fake judgement, though her fingers twitched with excitement at her sides. “Good, I’ve had enough of you talking.”

Jameson’s eyes flickered down to her lips, one hand coming to her jaw as he raised a brow in question.

With her heart fluttery, Avery bit back a giggle— he was really taking this whole speechless bit thing to heart.

Avery rose a brow back wordlessly. She wouldn’t give in that easily.

Jameson exhaled, “Heiress, I’m no longer speechless.” He finally spoke, his voice low and smooth and making Avery’s stomach flutter. “I also, would very much like to kiss you.”

“I suppose you can kiss me,” Jokingly, Avery shrugged and puffed her lips out in faux boredom.

Jameson rose a brow, feigning offense, “That’s not a yes.”

She felt herself smile as she rose to her tiptoes, barely brushing her lips against his.

She felt his breath on his, and murmured, “Fine,” she said in a breath out, “I would also very much like you to kiss me.”

In an instant, Jameson brought his other hand to the back of her neck and held her as he pressed his lips against hers.

Those fingers that were twitching at her sides now ran through Jameson’s hair as he pulled her close.

When they finally pulled away from each other, nerve endings sparking and energy buzzing, her hands trailed down to his chest once again. Their foreheads stayed touching, breathing heavy.

If Avery was being honest, she didn't know if she had it in her to leave if she looked at him a minute longer.

Especially not when he was smiling at her like that, and all she wanted to do was kiss him again, and feel that smile on her lips.

She thought about seeing Libby though— a quiet dinner, just the two of them, and she felt as if she'd regained her footing.

She let out a chuckle, "Alright, I actually have to go," She trailed off, her hands finally sliding off of his chest. ''But I'll see you later tonight, when I get back."

"Have fun, Heiress.'' He said, pulling her in one last time for a short kiss.

He wasn't trying to distract her. Avery knew Jameson's kisses when he was offering a distraction, and Avery knew Jameson's kisses when they were simply goodbye kisses.

Regardless, she ended up getting just a little distracted.

It took a lot more of her willpower and self-control to take a step back than she expected. Jameson's eyes, and maybe even his lips, were a force greater than gravity.

Avery then walked away from Jameson and out of the room, fully aware of his gaze lingering on her.

────୨ৎ────

"Oh, oh, I have a really good one." Libby laughed, walking in a line that was anything but straight, knocking Avery to the side a little.

"Okay," Avery laughed back, her coat wrapped tightly around her, and her heels held in one hand as she walked no less wonky than Libby. "But don't say something like, would you rather dye your hair blue or purple."

Avery and Libby had gotten back from their dinner an hour ago.

They had been at the restaurant bar for a little, but they quickly ended up getting bored. Too many men had tried hitting on them, but Avery had an inkling of a feeling that Libby enjoyed waving her hand in the air, specifically her right ring finger, and saying, “I’m a married woman!”

Now, they were in the Hawthorne House back yard, — if you could even call it that.

The land seemed to stretch on forever, with gardens, statues, fountains, benches everywhere, swings built for the boys from their childhood days, a maze, and a wrecked treehouse.

Avery had made countless discoveries during her time at Hawthorne House.

Today, she made another one: Drunk Libby was not good at 21 questions.

''My questions aren't that bad!'' Drunk Libby was also apparently not self aware. ''Its just... You know what, I don't like this game.''

''Hey, you're the one who suggested it.'' Avery bumped into her purposefully as they walked side by side, nudging her shoulder.

Libby groaned, throwing her head back exasperatedly. A laugh left avery’s lips, then she suggested, ''Okay, one more question, then we'll stop.''

''Good lord, we're so pathetic,'' Libby snorted, looking at Avery for a moment. ''We only got to 4 questions.''

Avery couldn't hold back her own snort, ''Good lord? Who are you?''

''What?'' Libby asked half confusedly, a half smile on her lips. Then her face fell slightly when she realised. ''Oh, shut up, you."

Libby couldn't hold back that lovesick smile on her face when she talked about her partner. Avery knew the feeling.

Libby continued, "Obviously I'm bound to pick up on his lingo just a little bit. He's my husband."

“I don’t mind it!” Avery teased, dragging out the last two words. She then tapped her chin, thinking. “It’s cute, I can imagine my little nieces and nephews wearing cowboy hats and saying things like hold your horses.”

“Woah!” The shock on Libby’s face was priceless, but Avery saw the way her eyes gleamed a little. Libby started laughing like a madwoman, “Okay, seriously hold your horses, that’s a tad too far.”

She stopped for a moment, then murmured to herself, almost in consideration. “It would tiniest bit cute though, little country accents and all.”

Avery’s gaze softened at the sight of her sister, then she let out an amused chuckle. “It would be sickeningly adorable, Lib.”

''Okay, let’s change the subject,'' Libby let out an airy, slightly flustered laugh, then hummed, ''Next question. What do you think past you would be most shocked about your life now?''

''Oh, God,'' Avery let out a chuckle in half disbelief. How'd they go from questions about cats or dogs, blue or purple, to this? ''I dont even know. Honestly, just—“

"No." Libby interjected, "I already know what you're going to say.'' She fixed her gaze on Avery's, a slight teasing smile on her lips. “You can't say everything.''

''Thats impossible!'' Avery laughed, even though it wasnt particularly funny. She looked down at her hands as they continued walking through the dim, warmly lit back yard.

“I don’t care,” Libby giggled, jabbing at Avery’s shoulder. “Think of a different answer.”

''Okay, then,” Avery chewed on her bottom lip in thought, her mind running through all the different ways her life had flipped upside down. It was all insanity. But one thing stood out more than the rest.

“I guess probably everything with mom.'' She finally decided on, not meeting Libby’s gaze. ''And that Harry wasn't really Harry. And that mom wasn’t really Sarah. And that the postcards were never just postcards.''

Avery kept talking, the words leaving her mouth faster than her brain could catch up.

''I think... I think I'd be most shocked, and almost annoyed, to know that even after all the mysteries we uncovered, I still don't really know what mom's big secret was. Ideas, sure, but not an answer.''

She didn't realise how much finally saying those words out loud affected her.

Avery never admitted it, but the fact that she'd never be able to solve that one mystery, finish that last game — I have a secret... — would always linger in the back of her mind.

''Ave...'' She brought her gaze up to Libbys, who was looking her with her brows scrunched up sympathetically.

Her hair looked almost black in the faint orange light with the dark sky behind her, and it reminded Avery of when she dyed it brown, to appease Avery's team, to look ordinary and fit in the new world they were shoved into.

She hated it.

''I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the vibe," Avery quickly shook her head, a forced chuckle leaving her lips. "I should've said something like not living in my car, or that people ask me for my autograph.''

She looked away, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hands quickly before she looked back at Libby, laughing slightly. ''Isn't that weird? I didn't even have a permanent home 2 years ago.”

''It is weird." Libby assured her softly. "All of it is weird. It's not wrong to feel weird.''

Avery sniffled once again, muttering a quiet, “Yeah, I guess.”

They were both silent for a moment as they continued walking around the premises.

Avery knew like she would miss this moment of peace and vulnerability with Libby, and it hadn't even ended.

She was already dreading the fact that it would have to end eventually.

She hated it when she thought like that.

Suddenly, she met Libby’s calm eyes and those thoughts stopped, she found herself truly happy in the moment.

''Well, it wasn't my question, but I think you'd be most shocked that you hadn't really changed one bit. Even after everything.'' Libby admitted quietly, a sad smile playing on her lips.

''You're still my little sister, you're still the same girl who would play chess with a homeless man on the street. You're still Avery. Not the heiress, not the whole Avery Kylie Grambs and all that comes with it, not some saint. You're still the same Ave you've always been.''

Avery's full name was an anagram for 'a very risky gamble.'

And for a long time after inheriting, thats all she figured she was to people around her.

A gamble. Something that was only worth it sometimes.

She knew she was much more than that now— she had the best people around her, reminding her every day that she was capable of being loved and loving.

But still, hearing the words come out of Libby's mouth moved her more than anything.

She would always be her sister, even if everything else went wrong.

Avery’s eyes stung, she had to blink multiple times to keep those pesky tears away. ''I wish we had more time together as kids. I wish I remembered the times we did have, like your birthday with mom.'' Avery confessed, unsure where the words were coming from, but welcoming them nonetheless.

She noticed Libby's expression falter slightly, the corners of her lips turning down.

Avery referred to Hannah as 'mom,' with Libby, even though she wasn't biologically Libby’s mom. Regardless, Avery knew she was more of a mom to them than Libby's mother ever was.

''I know. But... at least we have now.'' Libby murmured. ''Thats more than enough for me.''

Libby suddenly paused. ''Are you crying?''

Avery straightened her posture, whipping her head up to meet Libbys eyes.

"What? No. God, no.'' She wiped at her eyes hurriedly, sniffling. ''I don't know.'' Avery hasn’t even realized she was crying.

''Aw,''' Libby crooned, opening her arm out wide as she tilted her head, her eyes a little bleary herself. ''C'mere, you silly girl.''

Avery rolled her eyes, unable to hold her smile as she melted into her sister’s side, her arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Avery’s head lay on Libby’s shoulder, the warmth from her and simply her familiarity calming Avery’s nerves, soothing her.

The world felt a little less loud.

"Your hair smells good.’’ Avery mumbled without really thinking.

Libby kept walking as Avery felt her chuckle.

“What are you saying?”

"I'm sorry.'' Avery laughed lazily, ''I'm not a good drunk.''

''Hey. You're an amazing drunk. And an amazing sister. And an amazing role model. Just... Amazing!'' Libby giggled, swaying them side to side as they walked through a path with bushes either side of it.

''What are you saying?'' Avery echoed, laughing and straightening her back, picking her head up off Libby’s shoulder.

“Hey!” Libby laughed, wrapping her arm back around Avery’s shoulders and pulling her in. “I never claimed to be a good drunk either.”

“Yeah,” Avery rose her brows exaggeratedly, emphasizing the obviousness, “cause you’re not a good drunk.”

“Okay, you can’t make fun of me.” Libby suddenly said, putting her best attempt of a serious face on. “I'm still your big sister. Y’know.”

She sighed, running her hand up and down Avery’s shoulder. ‘’I miss when you thought I was crazy cool and intimidating.’’

Avery leaned her head on Libby’s shoulder once again, sighing. ‘’You’re still crazy cool.”

''Not intimidating?''

Avery hummed.

She thought the time when Libby chased Xander around the house with a whisk in her hand, after he stole a few of her unbaked cookies. "If you don't face my wrath, you’ll definitely be facing salmonella’s! It isn't as forgiving as I am!" Libby once yelled.

Avery knew her answer immediately. "You're very intimidating.’’

“Why, thank you.”

They continued walking, recalling random memories from their childhood and talking about people they didn’t like but Avery was forced to stay civil with for connections. Unsurprisingly, there were a lot.

────୨ৎ────

10 minutes later, after they continued to walk and recall random memories from their childhood and talk about people they didn’t like (unsurprisingly, there were a lot), and made their way sleepily to the doorstep.

Libby swayed side to side behind Avery, laughing to herself. ''Ave, do you remember-'' she cut herself off with a laugh, and Avery turned around, lazily chuckling at the image of Libby literally laughing over nothing infront of her. ''Remember when, we dressed up... as…”

Avery's hand was on the doorhandle now. She giggled to herself, and Libby came to stand next to her. She rang the doorbell, but no one answered.

“Huh, weird…” Avery muttered, then Libby then took out her spare key from her purse, and they were just about to let themselves in when she suddenly heard a large crash.

Then, they heard multiple voices, specifically three voices all shout: XANDER!

Avery winced.

She couldn't quite make out the rest, but she heard something like, ''... It was an accident! It was an accident! ACCIDENT! NOT ON PURPOSE.''

And was that... The Mamma Mia soundtrack playing?

Avery and Libby exchanged wary looks.

“I don't want to go in,” Libby mumbled, whining in distaste.

Avery sighed, then turned to Libby. “50 bucks atleast one thing is on fire.”

“Oh, please.” Libby deadpanned. “I'll bet you 100 there's at least 5 broken things.”

They both took a deep breath in, pushing the door open carefully.

When they finally went inside, Avery realised they truly underestimated the Hawthorne brothers and their capability of chaos.

The light in the foyer was turned off, and from the looks of it, it seemed that all the lights in the house were turned off. Avery wondered if the power had somehow went out, courtesy of Xander. (Hey, it happened before.)

Her and Libby went upstairs, following the noise of Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA, and Avery realised the power couldn't have been out, because there was a strobe of faint neon lights that could be seen from the end of the hallway, leading into the main living room upstairs.

She also heard shouts. A lot of shouts.

Chaos immediately met her the second she walked into the living room.

“God! You!” Avery’s eyes widened comically as Xander pointed at her dramatically , a hand coming to clutch his heart.

“Me?” Avery pointed at herself, looking beside her, but then she realized Libby was no longer by her side, and was already making her way to Nash who was sitting on the couch, leaning back leisurely with his cowboy hat tilted sideways on his head.

“Yes, you!” Xander shouted again, with no little amounts of dramatic flair, taking steps towards Avery.

The flashing lights and music made it hard to focus. “You wretched, conniving, deceitful, amazing, wonderful, friend. You left me here with these two.”

He huffed, gesturing to Grayson and Jameson who were just now realizing Avery and Libby had arrived, and paused their game of just dance. “And they've been competing in the most ridiculous things ever since.”

Competing sounded like them. “Ridiculous?” Avery asked.

“Yes!” Xander huffed, “and that is I- Xander Hawthorne, the master of ridiculousness saying that. We played drink or dare, and then... “ Xander shuddered, holding his hand out like he couldn’t bear the words.

Avery already knew she wasn’t going to like where this was going. “…And then?" she prompted, motioning for him to go on with her hands.

Xander shook his head morosely at the floor, his hand still on his heart. Then he met Avery’s gaze, “Jameson dared Grayson to a bake off.”

Avery glanced at Libby who was sitting next to Nash now, and was thankful she couldn’t hear the words Xander said.

Jameson’s cooking was good— way more than good, but his baking? Avery wondered how the same person who would make 3 course Italian meals on their date nights, managed to somehow make muffins as hard as rock.

She glanced back at Xander, “That’s… That’s not good.”

“I know that, Avery!” Xander huffed petulantly, then pulled out his phone and pressed pause on the music. “They tried to see who would make the best scones, and the judge was obviously me.”

He lowered his voice for the next part, hushing as if he were confessing a dark secret. “Listen, I love scones, but, I’m afraid my brothers were the first to ever manage to make them disgusting.” Xander shuddered once again, “I can’t look at them for atleast a week.”

Holding back a laugh had been easy for Avery until then. She tilted her head, trying to compose herself, “Them as in your brothers, or scones?”

Xander widened his eyes, his expression horrified. “Both!”

Avery took her gaze to Jameson, who looked absolutely enthralled to see Avery. He beamed with a smile at her, setting down his remote and walking towards her.

Grayson’s clothes were disheveled, his hair messy too, and Avery looked between at four of the brothers once again.

They were more drunk than she and Libby were.

She quickly realised telling Jameson about Xander's new drink or dare machine was not the best idea.

Xander kept ranting, as Jameson finally stood infront of Avery. “Oh! Aveeeerrrry! It’s so nice to see you again.” Jameson slurred as he wrapped an arm around her, then removed it and pressed a messy kiss to the tip of her head.

Avery’s heart melted on the spot. She took a step back, “I missed you too.” She paused for a moment, looking him once over, “Jamie, how much did you drink?"

“Barely anything. Just a little bit.” Jameson shook his head profusely, and Avery quirked up a brow. “Well, perhaps a little more than a little…” He admitted with a slight tilt of his head. “If yes is one, and... once...”

Jameson murmured nonsense, his voice low, “… Triangle... “ He suddenly put both his hands on Avery’s shoulders. She heard Xander snort. Jameson rose his brows, his expression about as serious as it could get when he was that drunk. “I love you very much, you know?”

“Sure, Jamie.” Avery nodded, patting his arm, “I love you very much too.”

“If you'll excuse me,” Grayson interrupted, stumbling over to them and standing a few feet away from Jameson.

“Me and Jameson have an incredibly important... event... taking place.” He adjusted his sleeves cuffs, but he didn’t look all that collected or poised, because his shirt was buttoned wonkily and he just looked… Messy. “Please allow him to return to his duties”

Jameson snorted. ''Duty. Ha.''

Grayson glared at him, “It's an important endeavour.”

Avery and Xander shared a look. She furrowed her brows at the two brothers, confused. “It's Just Dance.”

“It's more than just a dance!” Avery would’ve never known Jameson was a die hard fan for Just Dance. Now she did, because his voice held pure emotion, his eyebrows near the top of his head.

“Heiress, the thought behind the characters, the storyline, the—“

“—You know what,” Avery interjected, patting Jameson’s arm once again and pointing to the large TV. “Why don’t you go back to dancing. I’m sure you’re both amazing.”

“They’re both horrible.” Xander rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Nash is better, but neither of them will admit it.”

“Okay…” Avery trailed off, eyes flickering between the 3 of them. Where did Libby and Nash go? “Well, uhm, I have to go change...”

Jameson’s eyes widened, taking her hands in his. “Can’t you stay for just a minute? I would like to show you my dance moves. I’ve missed you truly.”

Surprise flickered across Avery— her whole face scrunched up, “Jamie, is that a British accent?"

"That’s not the point." Jamesons voice was back to normal. “Please, I’ve worked really hard on perfecting this.”

“No you haven’t.” Xander and Grayson both said at the exact same time, both of their tones equally as annoyed.

“This is absolutely ridiculous!” Xander lifted his arms in the air, then they fell back down with a huff.

Jameson’s hands dropped Avery’s, his jaw dropping open too as he took his surprised gaze over to Xander, who was about to go on a rant.

“First, Max wasn’t able to come because of med school exams. Then, the offense to scones by my awful brothers. Now, I just had the same thought process as Grayson! The universe has done me wrong far too much today. Goodnight. I’m done with this day.”

Grayson’s expression was almost comical with the way his eyes widened. He furrowed his brows, “Going through the same thought process as me is surely not an offense.”

Xander heard none of it though, because he was already storming off, muttering something angrily under his breath about: “Next time, I’m just going to Max.”

Avery fought back a grin. She was telling Max about all of this.

“I suppose I should also get to bed.” Grayson grumbled, checking the time on his watch. “I’m picking up Lyra from the airport tomorrow morning.”

“Next time tomorrow?” Jameson suggested with a grin, nodding towards the paused Just Dance game on the screen.

Grayson paused, humming like he was really thinking about it. “Well, It’s very likely I’ll be busy. I’ll have to ask her and see." He paused, murmuring to himself, "She dances as well, perhaps she could join...”

He sounded so… sophisticated, Avery hard a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that the subject matter was a dancing game with special effects and people wearing colorful costumes.

Jameson shrugged, “Dancer or not, I’m winning regardless.”

“That’s enough from you.” Grayson quickly replied, then his expression went back to normal, “Goodnight, both of you.”

For a moment, Jameson and Avery were silent. Then, Jameson turned to face her with a grin. “Then there were two.”

Avery blinked at him, “There’s about to be one. I have an insane headache, and I need to go shower. I feel gross.”

Jameson’s grin faded at the utterance of her headache. He brought a hand to caress her cheek, “I’m sorry for pestering you with just dance, Heiress.” He mumbled, his worlds slow and slurred.

Avery chuckled, smiling against the hand on her cheek. “It’s no problem, Jamie.”

He furrowed his brows, “If I knew about your headache,” he started, his tone sincere and innocent, “And that you wanted to go shower… Well, I would’ve been out of here in seconds.”

Avery’s smile dropped, “You’re gross.” She couldn’t help but laugh, though. “I’m leaving.”

She turned Jameson's hand falling off her face, and she heard him chuckle behind her.

She continued walking, then: “Wait, I’m sorry!” He suddenly called out, grabbing her hand gently. She turned once again to face him, her expression one of faux boredom.

She was trying very hard not to laugh, and his face told her he was finding this nothing but funny.

He held both her hands, pleading. “I’ll get you your painkillers while you shower. And I’ll fill up your huge water bottle that you keep in your room.” His eyes were pleading, but the corner of his lips kept fighting a grin. “I’m sorry.”

Avery stayed silent for a moment, looking him up and down and letting her gaze flicker across his face. She sighed, though her smile started to match his. “All is forgiven if you add extra ice.”

The corner of his lips stopped fighting that devastating grin. “You already know I'd do it.”

────୨ৎ────

An hour later, with her water bottle filled, sitting on her nightstand (extra iced), headache gone (what would she do without painkillers?), and freshly showered and in her pyjamas, Avery lay awake in her bed.

She was too focused on her breathing, as she didn’t want to move Jamesons head that was lying on her chest.

His face looked peaceful, his face slightly squished, but it was only adding to the affection and warmth Avery felt in her heart.

He looked perfectly illuminated from the yellow bedside lamp Avery had turned on.

She always had it on— she didn’t like the dark much.

She remembered Jameson convincing her to use one, after her troubles sleeping because of certain events she didn't like talking about— they simply hurt too much.

‘I’m not a child, I dont need a nightlight.’ She told him, giving him a look that said: drop it.

"I once needed one, for a long time, Heiress.’’ He confessed, his eyes pleading with worry as he took her hands in his. “Try it, if it doesn’t help, forget I ever mentioned it.’’

When Avery’s eyes wandered away from his and to the ground, his features softened with a slight grin. "You can even say "i told you so.’"

She looked at him again, and he didn’t seem to be have any teasing manner in his voice. So the next time Avery went to sleep, she turned her little night lamp on.

She didn’t say ‘I told you so.’

He was right.

And for the first time, he didn’t tease her about being right. He simply held her tighter when they'd fall asleep.

Avery couldn’t help but smile slightly at the memory, no matter how much of her energy had been depleted from the day.

She brought a careful hand to his hair, running her hands through it.

She looked at Jameson for a moment. She sighed a little, biting back a stupid smile, and turned to look at the lamp next to her.

Avery traced her fingers along the scar on Jameson’s torso.

He once couldn’t sleep in the dark.

She didn’t have to be a genius to understand why.

A sense of melancholy washed over her.

Jameson had been through so much before she knew him, and through even more when she did know him.

The discoveries they made together, the things they learned about the old man— they troubled her, and she didnt even know the guy.

Just how deep did it affect Jameson?

Looking at the boy on her chest, she allowed herself to truly look at his face— the freckles you couldn’t see unless you were right next to him, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes looked enviously thick, his slightly puffy lips, that weren’t in that awful (not awful at all) smirk that they were perpetually in.

She loved him, not for whatever physical features he had, no matter how perfect they were, but for who he was.

The fact that she could get distracted and lost in his endless green eyes was only a bonus— worth nothing next to the fact that those same eyes looked at her like she was his whole world.

With a soft sigh she reached over, careful not to wake up Jameson — though a part of her knew that even if she did wake him up, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest — and turned her lamp off.

Darkness enveloped the room, but it didn’t feel like it.

If anything, it was comforting, because now the only things that existed in that moment were her and Jameson.

She couldn’t see anything, the house was quiet— but she could feel Jameson in her arms, and smelled the scent of whiskey and cedar she had grown so accustomed to, and if she really concentrated, she could remember the taste of his lips on hers.

She wrapped her arm around Jameson's torso with the other in his hair, all her senses full of him. And for the first time in a while, she fell asleep in the dark.

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#avery x jameson #the inheritance games #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs #jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #averyjameson #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #libby grambs #the grandest game #tig #tag #❦ jude writes

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wish-i-were-heather · 5 months ago

Text

HATE IS A STRONG WORD ⤵ ROHAN X JAMESON HAWTHORNE

ABOUT: 1766 words

STORY: chapters 40-42 of the brothers hawthorne but... different

WARNINGS: none that i can think of

A/N: forgive me 😔🙏 also im getting really uncreative with the titles and just using quotes from the fic my bad guys

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Avery scolded Jameson as they walked. She was holding him up on one side, her arm around his waist, while Zella had him from the other. The latter had made it very clear that she did not want to be there.

He only shrugged, which made his whole body hurt.

She rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have raised your hand to fight.”

“But it worked,” Jameson insisted. “The Proprietor, I got his attention. He watched me, and he told Rohan to stay down. Which means-”

“He let you win,” Avery finished for him, her eyes widening. “Which-”

“Gives me a better chance at an entrance to the game, I know.”

“Do you guys always do this whole finishing each other's sentences thing? It’s weird,” Zella interjected.

Jameson grinned. “What can I say? Great minds think alike.”

“And this mind says no more fighting strangers in foreign countries,” Avery said firmly.

He didn’t argue back. His mind was half fuzzy anyway. Everything hurt everywhere- there was blood dripping from his temple, bruises littering his entire form. His nose was also bleeding, and he was certain that he’d broken at least three of his ribs.

But Jameson tried not to let his mind linger on the pain for too long. He focused on staying upright, feeling grateful that he had the two people keeping him that way. He wanted to do more- he needed to get into the game. And today was the last chance he had.

For now, though, he let them walk him up to an area curtained off, in the Lust section of the Devil’s Mercy.

He laid down on one of the grand beds, back against the pillows, and took a deep breath. Which, of course, hurt his ribs.

“We need to clean you up,” Zella began, surprising him. He didn’t think she cared enough. “The Proprietor wouldn’t appreciate you leaving a trail of blood across the Mercy.”

Jameson closed his eyes and let her and Avery do what they had to do. Antiseptics were used, bandages were applied, and each time someone's hand brushed against his injuries, he tried not to flinch.

It hurt.

But soon enough, they were finished. He didn’t open his eyes. Avery propped herself next to him, taking his hand in hers.

“You’re the most reckless Hawthorne,” she told him gently.

“Have you met-”

“I’ve met all your brothers, Jamie. Rest assured, you are the most reckless.”

Jameson didn’t argue, and squeezed her hand. Avery moved forward, sitting closer to him on the bed, but still careful of his injuries.

Their moment was interrupted.

“Avery,” Zella blurted impatiently. “May we speak?”

Jameson’s eyes snapped open and he frowned. “What do you need to talk to her about?” But she didn’t look at him. The two women held eye contact for a few moments and Jameson struggled to tell if they were having a silent conversation with their facial expressions or if they were just staring.

But then Avery stood up.

“Heiress…” he practically pouted.

“You’re fine. Just don’t get into any more fights while I’m gone, yeah?”

She gave him a look that promised she would tell him every detail of their conversation, and squeezed his hand one more time before walking out. Zella, of course, also had to give him one final side eye.

The room was silent and cold. To him it felt like it had been hours since Avery left, but Jameson knew it really could have only been fifteen minutes. But what was there even to talk about?

He closed his eyes again and tried not to focus on the injuries. He was alone now, no one to distract him from his thoughts and the pain that assaulted him with every breath.

“You’re bleeding on the sheets.”

Jameson opened his eyes, but fell back when he saw who it was.

Rohan was standing at the entrance, having pushed aside the curtain and staring at him with a certain look in his eye that Jameson didn’t like. He wasn’t shirtless anymore- an observation that surprised him. Instead, he was back in a suit.

He didn’t even look like he’d just been in a fight. Any injuries were well concealed.

Jameson suddenly felt self-conscious about the fact that he was sitting there on the bed alone, his face probably half swollen, and a poorly applied bandage being the only thing covering his top half. But he forced himself to look back at Rohan.

“And you care why?”

“I don’t,” Rohan said. He stepped forward, the curtain falling closed behind him. “But you’re making a bloody mess and I quite enjoy being on the Proprietor’s good side.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with me?”

Rohan eyed the bandages. “I’m the one who injured you. It’s my responsibility to… undo that damage.”

“Aw, how gentlemanly.”

“Shut it.”

He walked to the side of the bed, his eyes never leaving Jameson’s. There was something in his expression, something hidden under the layers of indifference. A look of concern, and some other unidentifiable tension that had been between them since the fight.

“You shouldn't have won,” said Rohan. “You’re in no condition to be in the game.”

Jameson scoffed, though it hurt his chest. “Yet you allowed me the victory.”

“I didn’t want to,” Rohan sighed. “But some things are worth sacrificing.”

“Like your dignity?”

“It’s getting really difficult to want to help you, Hawthorne.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Rohan shook his head as his eyes scanned Jameson’s battered body. Some bruises were his doing, while others were the fight he’d won before. Either way, it was clear that whatever first aid was applied earlier was not enough. And Rohan needed to clean any mess, cover his tracks.

That’s the only reason he was there, of course.

“The pool of blood you’re sitting in says otherwise,” Rohan noted. Jameson rolled his eyes.

“If you’re so insistent on fixing me,” he told him. “Then go right ahead. Be my guest, Mr. Factorium.”

He narrowed his eyes, but instead of arguing, Rohan stepped forward. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small case.

“Are we just carrying around first aid kits now?” Jameson laughed. “Is that normal here?”

“Does it hurt you so much to be prepared?” Rohan asked, opening it and from it taking a roll of gauze.

Rohan set it on the bedside table and turned to face Jameson. Without a word, he reached for the edge of the bandages around his abdomen and began to unwrap them. Jameson inhaled sharply.

He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected to feel Rohan’s cold hands against his unusually warm skin. He hadn’t expected to uncover all the visibly painful injuries. And he most certainly hadn’t expected to let Rohan essentially rid him of covering his top half.

Nor had he expected Rohan’s eyes to linger there for just a moment too long.

“The wound wasn’t properly staunched.” The sound of his voice snapped Jameson back to the present.

He only managed a small “oh” in response.

Rohan’s hands got to work, doing who knew what. Something to stop the bleeding, but Jameson only felt the touch of his fingertips, Rohan’s skin against his own. Pain was brought back every time he put too much pressure on the injured area, but at least that helped him stay awake.

Maybe he’d lost too much blood, because this was strange. This was wrong. This was… Rohan. Rohan, who thought he was so much better than everyone else. Rohan, who spoke with that stupid accent. Rohan, who was the most insufferable person.

Rohan, who made it very clear that he hated him.

And that hatred was very mutual.

Jameson’s breath suddenly hitched as Rohan pressed a little too hard against his broken ribs. He tried not to react, but keeping his body neutral was impossible.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Rohan muttered, his eyes focused on wrapping him up again. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before throwing yourself into a fight.”

He managed a shrug. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a second thought in my life.”

“Clearly.”

Jameson opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t escape. Rohan’s hands had moved, now finishing wrapping the fresh gauze around his ribs, careful not to press too hard. The touch was surprisingly gentle and it stunned him more than any punch or tackle ever could.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked finally. Rohan had said it was because of the Proprietor, but he knew it had to be something more. “You hate me.”

Rohan hesitated for half a second. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Is it?” Jameson pressed, ignoring the pain as Rohan tightened the wrappings to keep them in place.

“I can’t say I hate you. I’ve barely met you. You’re simply… very hard to like.”

Jameson furrowed his brow. “Right. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m doing this,” Rohan explained. “Because I don’t want to get in trouble with his lordship.”

“You say that title like he’s the most important man in the world,” Jameson remarked.

“I don’t think he’d appreciate you talking negatively towards him,” Rohan warned him.

He shrugged again, but this time it hurt. “Negative attention is better than no attention at all.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m a Hawthorne.”

“Same difference.”

Jameson grinned despite the pain. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You take that however you want,” Rohan sighed. His lips tightened into a line as he finished the bandaging. His hands hovered over it for a moment, before stepping back. “There, you’re all patched up.”

“Appreciated,” Jameson said reluctantly. Rohan nodded, recollecting the items into his strange, pocket-sized first aid kit and slipping it back into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Jameson watched, keeping his eyes on every little movement.

He nodded and began walking out, back to the closed curtain. A small part of Jameson didn’t… didn’t want him to leave?

But before walking away, Rohan turned around.

“Hawthorne?”

“I thought we were on a first name basis, Rohan.”

He ignored that comment.

“Your nose is horribly swollen. You look like a blobfish.”

Jameson lifted an arm and very clearly flipped off the insufferable Brit. He simply flashed him a snarky smile before turning around and leaving. Jameson sighed, leaning back against the pillows again as his mind wandered, questioning what kind of interaction he’d just had.

Though he was confused by how the Factorium was acting, Jameson couldn’t help but smile.

Rohan was a puzzle, one he had every intention of solving

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#im embarrassed to tag this but oh well #jameson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #rohan tgg #rohan tbh #tig #tgg #tig fanfic #rohan x jameson #jameson x rohan #<- man i never thought id type those tags #mightier than your sword𓂃🖋

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