𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔
PAIRING: jameson x avery
SYNOPSIS: jameson has been with avery for over a year now, but she never fails to knock the air out of his lungs.
WARNINGS: fluff, kisses, suggestive, set in: sometime after the final gambit.
WC: 2.3k
📌: @xo-zozo @runnningoutofink @coffeexsmmrsblog @tooprecious2gamble @defiantlynocturnalsteel @legoflxwers
⪩⪨ . notes ! hi, this is my first fic here so please be kind 🩷 reblogs are appreciated! and sorry for any grammar error, i haven’t proofread it lol
Jameson Hawthorne was slowly going insane.
He’d tried, he really had, to follow Avery’s orders, but patience was not exactly his strongest virtue.
When she’d told him, eyes sparkling with a secret she refused to share, “Be offline all morning, and I mean no news, no social media, no messages from Alisa, or I’ll personally make sure your phone spurts ink each time you unlock it.” he had laughed at first.
But then she’d added, “I mean it, Jameson,” and he’d realized she was serious.
So, like a grounded teenager, he’d tossed his phone into a drawer, because he knew himself and if he saw it, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
After making sure that the key was thrown out of the window, he decided to go to the Hawthrone brother known for distractions.
“I need distraction,” he announced, stepping into Xander’s workspace. “Do you want to play?”
Xander didn’t even look up from his project “Define play.”
“Pool,” Jameson said “Or darts, or poker, or literally anything that keeps me from refreshing news sites I’m not supposed to be looking at. I swear I’ve never wanted to open the news as much as today.”
Xander sighed, finally lifting his head, “You could always read a book.”
“I said distraction, not torture.”
They ended up in the game room, trading sarcastic banter over the pool table.
Xander won the first round, Jameson the next three, mostly because the youngest Hawthorne was too busy yapping to aim properly.
Still, every few minutes, Jameson’s gaze drifted toward the hallway, half-expecting Avery to appear.
Obviously she didnt, she had told him that she would be back around late afternoon.
“You’re obsessed,” Xander teased.
“I’m interested,” Jameson corrected.
“You’re pacing like she’s in labour or something.”
“That’s an advanced form of curiosity.”
“Sure,” Xander said dryly. “Keep telling yourself that.”
By the time the sun had shifted past noon and cast warm streaks of gold through the windows, Jameson was perched on the edge of Avery’s bed, waiting.
He had painted a landscape, strolled through the garden with Nanny and even baked muffins with Libby, who seemed to enjoy his suffering too much.
Her room smelled faintly of books and her perfume, vanilla that always made him think of the different meanings of the word home.
The door creaked open quietly, and he looked up.
And froze.
Avery stood in the doorway, a small, almost nervous smile on her lips.
Her hair — her long, glossy, mid-back hair — was gone. Well, not gone, but shorter now, brushing just above her shoulders.
Jameson blinked, dumbfounded for a moment before he finally found his voice “You— your hair.”
Avery touches it self-consciously, fingers grazing the ends “You noticed,” she said, laughing softly.
“Noticed?” his eyes widened “Avery, you— how could I not notice? You had— there was—” He gestured vaguely, as if trying to measure the lost inches in the air.
“I cut it,” she said simply, walking toward him.
“I can see that,” he replied, still staring “What I can’t see is why you’d make me go dark all morning just to surprise me with… this.”
Her smile deepened, and she perched on the edge of the bed beside him “Because there were cameras, it was a whole event.”
He tilted his head, studying her “An event?”
She nodded, that quiet pride lighting her face in the way it always did when she talked about something meaningful.
“A charity one, they were collecting hair donations, for people who have lost theirs because of chemotherapy, alopecia, or other conditions. They’ll make wigs from the donations.”
Jameson’s expression softened instantly.
She tucked a strand behind her ear, still smiling “I figured I could spare a few inches. Or, well, more than a few.”
He stared at her, completely undone for a momen
Lord, he loves her so much.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said softly, “You already donate money, time, everything— and now this.”
“It’s just hair,” she said, shrugging “It grows back.”
“It’s not just hair.” hiis tone was quiet but firm “It’s you doing what you always do, giving a part of yourself for someone else. You don’t even realize how incredible that is.”
She flushed slightly, scoffing “You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?” he said, smiling faintly “I don’t think so.”
He could already pictured it, the headline of an article saying BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AVERY GRAMBS MAKES YET ANOTHER DONATION.
He reached out, brushing his fingers through the shorter strands.
They slipped through his hand easily, softer than he expected. “I liked it long,” he admitted quietly “But I think I like this even more.”
Avery’s eyes lifted to his, searching “Really?”
“Really,” he said, his thumb tracing lightly along her jaw “You look… radiant.”
Her lips parted in a small, surprised laugh “Radiant?”
“Dazzling, then.”
“Now you’re exaggerating.”
“Impossible,” he murmured “You’re the one sitting here looking like a sunrise, and I’m supposed to act normal about it?”
She giggled, actually giggled, and Jameson thought he’d never tire of that sound. “If I’m the sunrise then you’re the sunset.”
“And hopelessly in love with you,” he said without missing a beat.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she closed the small distance between them and kissed him.
It was slow at first, gentle and sweet, like they both understood this wasn’t about anything except the weight of what she’d done and what he felt for her.
Her lips were warm, familiar, and when she shifted closer, his hands found their way to her waist almost instinctively.
He loved how she sighed against his mouth, a soft sound that he drank every time.
She pulled back for a moment, laughing against his mouth “You usually say something clever by now.”
“I can’t think straight,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “I think my brain just stopped functioning.”
“Because of me?” she teased
“Always.” and he was kissing her again.
They leaned together until avery’s back rested on the bed, laughter caught between them.
Jameson’s hand slipped into her hair again, shorter now, and he couldn’t stop smiling against her lips.
She was everything, selfless and sharp, infinite and perfect.
When the kiss broke, she was smiling up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright
He laughed quietly. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”
Avery brushed her thumb along his cheekbone, eyes soft “You’re doing fine.”
Jameson shook his head, leaning down until his forehead rested against hers “You gave away part of yourself today to make someone else feel whole,” he whispered. “You don’t even know how beautiful that is.”
Avery exhaled, her breath catching just slightly “It’s just hair, Jameson.”
He smiled. “It’s never just anything with you, Heiress.”
Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head, lips brushing his again in a quiet, unhurried kiss that said everything words couldn’t.
┈┈・ ✦ ・┈┈
Jameson was wide awake long after midnight, his arm draped around Avery, his fingertips tracing idle circles against the smooth skin of her shoulder.
The room was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas outside the window.
Avery was half-asleep, breathing soft and even, the white sheets tangled around her like a cocoon.
Her short hair fanned out against the pillow in dark waveis, catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
He couldn’t help smiling.
The quiet moments with her always got him, the calm after the chaos, the softness that followed all the puzzles, all the games, all the adrenaline they thrived on.
When it was just them, bare of armor, her smiling faintly even in her sleep, he felt something dangerously close to peace.
Avery stirred and turns her face toward him, “Hi.” she whispered, her cheeks flushed from their post bed-time activities.
“Hey.” he smiled, caressing her jaw. Though the moment was broken by the growl of her stomach.
“Starving, are you?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
“Mhm,” she murmured without opening her eyes “You’re warm… don’t go.”
“Not moving,” he said softly “But, you know, I could get us something, what are your feelings on a late-night royal feast?”
That made her smile, faintly, still half-asleep “Royal feast?”
“Of course, my lady,” Jameson said. “How often do I get to serve my queen?”
He slipped out of bed, searching the floor for his discarded pants.
Avery’s gaze, sleepy but fond, followed him as he buttoned them up haphazardly, running a hand through his tousled hair.
He leaned down and brushed a quick kiss on her forehead before heading for the door.
“Don’t be too long,” she murmured.
“I’d never dream of it,” he said, and winked.
Outside the room, Oren was stationed, as always a silent shadow leaning against the wall.
Casually acting like he didn’t hear what kind of late night hobbies the two hopelessly in love people had.
“Evening, Oren,” Jameson greeted, voice light
“It’s one in the morning,” Oren replied dryly.
“Semantics,” Jameson said “Could you tell the cook to send something up? Whatever’s good at this ungodly hour, maybe soup, fruit, something suitable for her highness?”
Oren’s brow arched “Her highness?”
“Miss Grambs,” Jameson clarified, smirking “She’s hungry.”
Oren sighed but radioed the request anyway.
Jameson wondered if the man ever slept, because he was sure as hell he’d never see him take a break in all his life.
When the tray arrived twenty minutes later, carried by one of the night staff, Jameson thanked them and brought it in himself.
Avery was awake by then, sitting up against the headboard, sheets still pulled around her.
She’d found his shirt somewhere and had worn it, the fabric soft and big on her.
The bedside lamp cast a golden halo around her, and for a second, Jameson forgot how to breathe.
“You really did it,” she said, eyes widening at the tray.
“You doubted me?” he said, pretending to be offended as he set it on the nightstand.
“Perhaps I did, Hawthorne.”
“Very funny,” he said, climbing back onto the bed and pulling the tray between them “Behold, my midnight masterpiece, we have grilled cheese, fruit salad, and a bowl of tomato soup that might actually still be hot. All courtesy of Chef Laughlin, who nagged at Oren for making her get up this late at night.”
Avery grinned, picking up a spoon. “You didn’t have to make her get up, Jameson, I would’ve been fine with a sandwich.”
“The last time I cooked a sandwich, the bread vaporised.” he said, watching as she took her first bite.
“Mmm.” She sighed in contentment “Okay, maybe this was a good idea.”
“Of course it was,” Jameson said, grabbing a grape and tossing it into his mouth “I’m full of good ideas.”
“Debatable,” Avery said, trying not to smile.
He reached over, mock-offended. “You wound me, Heiress.”
“You’ll survive,” she said, spooning another bite of soup.
He watched her, utterly taken.
Avery had learned to live in chaos, to carry the weight of a world that wasn’t supposed to be hers, and yet here she was, laughing softly, wrapped in white sheets and eating soup in bed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said suddenly, catching him staring.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a miracle or something.”
Jameson’s smile was slow “Maybe you are.”
Avery rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed pink, “You always say things like that.”
“Because they’re true,” he said. “You don’t believe me?”
“I think you’re a terrible liar and an even worse flirt.”
He laughed quietly. “And yet you’re still here.”
“That’s my bad decision-making at work,” she teased.
He reached out and brushed his thumb along her jaw,“I’m glad to he your bad decision, Heiress.”
She smiled softly and leaned in to kiss him.
It wasn’t a heated kiss, it was slow, tender, and full of unspoken things.
Jameson cupped her cheek gently, his thumb resting on her skin as he deepened it slightly before pulling back just enough to smile against her lips.
“You taste like tomato soup,” he whispered.
She giggled, swatting at him, “Always ruining the moment.”
“I aim to please.”
When they finished eating, Avery leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her, letting his fingers trace idle patterns on her arm.
“You always take care of me,” she said quietly.
He shrugged lightly. “You take care of everyone, someone has to make sure you remember what that feels like.”
Her eyes softened at that, and she looked up at him, “And who’s taking care of you?”
Jameson smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You, but don’t tell Nash that or he’d be offended.”
They stayed like that for a long time, talking softly about nothing: the Halloween game they still hadn’t perfected, how Xander’s latest invention had nearly set the west wing on fire.
Eventually, her eyelids grew heavy again, her head sinking back against his chest.
Jameson watched her for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing.
They both slept better when they were together, their warmth chasing away the demons threatening to crawl into their minds.
When her hand slipped over his, fingers curling loosely, he squeezed gently.
Jameson was hopelessly, irrevocably in love.
Not only with the challenge or the chase or the mystery, but with her.
The way she smiled with her whole face, the way she gave and gave until there was nothing left, the way she made even the most ordinary moments feel extraordinary.
Avery was half-asleep again when he whispered, barely audible, “You’re it for me, Avery Kylie Grambs.” brushing the infinite ring on her right hand.
She stirred, eyes fluttering open for a moment. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to her hair. “Sleep.”
Avery smiled faintly and nestled closer, her hand resting over his heart.
And as Jameson looked down at her, he thought there wasn’t a single puzzle in the world worth solving if it meant losing this.
