“Avery.” Something about the sound of my given name on Jameson’s lips, combined with everything else, almost undid me. He said Avery like a plea and a curse and prayer.
Synopsis:- The untold story of how Jameson and Avery came up with their code word 'Tahiti' part 2. Here is part 1.
Note:- Ella (@tooprecious2gamble)... This is a gift for you! welcome to unc zone. As promised I finished writing this by the time your birthday came around.
The suffocating weight that had clung to Avery's shoulders for hours—or maybe even weeks—finally dissolved into nothingness, leaving her hollowed out and shivering. Inside her bedroom, the air was warm, completely detached from the biting February cold pressing against the glass.
Jameson sat cross legged on the floor in front of her, his bandaged hand resting gently on his knee. The raw vulnerability of their confessions still lingered in the space between them, a heavy silence neither of them felt inclined to break.
It was painfully obvious they were not the type to do vulnerable well.
Feeling awkward Avery stared down at her hands and a sudden, familiar craving washed over her like her brain knew she needed something to do.
It was a memory rooted deep in her childhood, born in small-town diners and the rare nights when her mother would scrape together every dime in her pocket just to take her out for ice cream and a chance to vent when Avery was sad.
It was one of those memories Avery usually kept locked away, a reminder of a life before billions and before Tobias Hawthorne's cruel game.
Tonight, though was about letting herself feel so she didn't lock this feeling away, instead she drew in a shaky, uneven breath and broke the silence.
"My mom used to take me out for ice cream" Avery said quietly. Her voice was raspy from hours of crying yet her lips twitched into a faint, instinctive smile. "Every single time I was upset as a kid. Whenever the world felt too heavy and everything seemed broken she'd load me into the car and we'd go get a single sundae loaded down with sprinkles. No questions asked. Just sugar and a temporary escape."
Jameson raised an eyebrow, a lopsided, self-deprecating smirk curving his mouth. "What are you suggesting heiress?"
"I think we deserve a sweet treat after all that"
Both Avery and Jameson knew what 'that' was.
Jameson grinned at her "Ice cream. The ultimate antidote to a breakdown. Your mother was a genius, heiress. Let's go raid the kitchen."
"Not the kitchen Jameson" she murmured looking up, her hazel eyes catching the dim shadows of the room. "We are doing this the traditional way by going to a 24/7 diner"
Jameson blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "It's three in the morning, heiress. Oren will not be happy about this. And you also need sleep"
Her boyfriend talking with logic was a new to Avery. But she didn't want logic this instant. All she wanted was a nostalgic experience.
"Which is precisely why we have to sneak out and be back in time to get a few hours of sleep."
Avery was already pushing herself up off the floor, a spark of adrenaline chasing away the bone deep exhaustion in her limbs. "Unless the great Jameson Hawthorne is actually scared of getting caught by Oren?" she challenged softly. In all her experience, Jameson could never resist a challenge especially one that questioned his rule breaking abilities.
Jameson scoffed, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. The playful arrogance slipped back into his posture like a well worn armor—though right now it felt lighter. Less like a shield against the world and more like a second skin.
"Please" he murmured gaze dropping to hers with a dangerous, electric intensity. "Oren isn't a problem. I've outsmarted him and his security details before... multiple times."
Avery gave him a look that spoke volumes and without another word, he caught her hand, his fingers tangling tightly with hers as he pulled her toward the shadows.
They didn't use the front doors. Of course not. Not even the hidden passages honeycombing the estate afterall Oren probably had those monitored.
Jameson insisted they exit through a balcony window nearest to the garage, shimmying down a sturdy iron pipe with a reckless disregard for personal safety that made Avery's heart slam violently against her ribs. She followed right behind him, her sneakers gripping the cold metal before they dropped soundlessly onto the grass below.
Avery looked up at Jameson in the moonlight and grinned as the adrenaline flowed through her veins. Jameson angled his head towards hers and kissed her for a brief second before guiding her towards the garage.
Once they reached the sprawling garage, they slipped into one of Tobias Hawthorne's prized vintage cars—the one specifically chosen because its engine rumbled with the quietest purr.
The engine roared to life as Jameson threw the car into reverse, peeling out of the Hawthorne estate gates with a type of casual precision that defied the late hour. The tires crunched softly against the gravel before hitting the smooth, dark asphalt of the main road.
Twenty minutes later they pulled into the flickering parking lot of a twenty-four-hour diner on the outskirts of town. It wasn't high-end and it certainly wasn't what Avery was used to it was somehow worse, but at three in the morning it was their best and only bet.
After giving each other a look they both made their way inside the diner feeling lukewarm about their plan.
The place smelled of stale coffee, old grease and heavy floor wax. It was entirely empty save for a tired teenager a year or two younger than them behind the counter, staring blankly at a smartphone uninterested.
They slid into a worn red leather booth in the very back corner. Avery ordered a massive hot fudge sundae piled impossibly high with whipped cream—deciding right then and there that her multi-billion-dollar fortune was best spent on extra fudge—while Jameson settled for a black coffee with a single, melting scoop of vanilla ice cream dropped directly into it. A bizarre choice for the boy but Avery was too tired to judge.
As they waited for their food, they chatted and amused themselves by inventing dialogue for two strangers visible through the window near the gas station. The strangers were, without a doubt fighting and Avery's stomach ached from laughing at the ridiculous accent Jameson had put on.
After a while the strangers walked away and her and Jameson without the distraction looked starved. In their defense being vulnerable leaves you starving.
Their desserts arrived and both of them tore into it without another thought. The teenager who served them was without a doubt judging them.
Avery could not have cared less.
As they ate, Avery's eyes flickered across the table only to find Jameson watching her with a devastating focus. The wild, unhinged look from the rooftop earlier that night was entirely gone replaced by a soft attentiveness that he reserved exclusively for her, keeping the rest of the world at arm's length.
Avery's heart did a little flip.
"Better?" he asked, leaning his chin on his hand, his thumb rhythmically tapping against the chipped ceramic of his coffee mug. He looked entirely out of place in this sketchy diner, yet somehow, being there together, he looked entirely in place.
"Much," Avery whispered taking another bite of the ice cream and letting her eyelids drift shut at the taste.
The cold sweetness hit her tongue and for one fleeting, fragile second, she was ten years old again, sitting across from a mother she was only just beginning to truly understand.
A sharp pang of grief tried to claw its way back up her throat, threatening to choke her but she swallowed it down. Instead of going down that rabbit hole, she opened her eyes and looked across the table at Jameson—the boy who punched stone pillars, who had just bared every fractured piece of his soul to her. In his presence, an anchor finally settled deep in her chest.
"You know," Jameson murmured, breaking the quiet knowing exactly where her mind was in that moment, "I used to think people only did things like this in bad movies. Midnight runs for junk food. It's entirely too cliché for us, heiress."
"Well, Hawthorne," Avery shot back with a genuinely bright laugh, "consider it our first real adventure."
He smiled back—a real, unfiltered smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and reached straight into his soul. For a few minutes, they didn't talk about anything. They simply sat in the warm diner booth, sharing their melting desserts, letting the quiet normalcy of the world wash over them like a balm.
It was uncharted territory. And Avery loved every terrifying second of it.
By the time they paid the bill—leaving a hundred dollar bill on the table for a tip that would likely make the teenage cashier question if he was dreaming or if this was the reality—and climbed back into the car, the sheer emotional exhaustion of the night hit Avery like a freight train.
She buckled herself in, the warmth of the heater wrapping around her like a heavy blanket. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. Her head bobbed once, twice against the passenger window and before they had even turned onto the private road leading back to the Hawthorne estate Avery was completely, deeply asleep slumped sideways against the door.
...............................................
When Jameson parked the car back in its designated spot, he cut the ignition. The silence of the night rushed in broken only by the quiet ticking of cooling metal beneath the hood.
He looked over at Avery, noting the profound peace that had finally settled over her features. The dark circles under her eyes were the only remaining ghosts of the storm they had weathered hours ago.
Instead of waking her he just sat there in the dark, watching her chest rise and fall. A strange, terrifying protectiveness swelled in his chest—an instinct that scared him far more than any riddle Tobias Hawthorne had ever left behind.
Jameson didn't want to wake her up but it was almost dawn and sleeping in a car could not be comfortable at all.
He gave himself a few more minutes just to admire his girlfriend, then knowing Oren's security network would soon realize the heiress was missing from her room he decided to wake her up.
Jameson reached across the console. His fingers gently brushed a stray strand of dark hair away from her face.
"Avery," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly caress. "Wake up, heiress. We've got to scale a metal pipe again, remember?"
Avery let out a soft, reluctant groan blinking sleepily against the faint dashboard lights. Her eyes fluttered open heavy and glazed with exhaustion, disoriented for a fraction of a second before her senses caught up to her.
Her eyes caught Jameson and without a word of hesitation—driven by a sudden, inexplicable impulse—she shifted in her seat. Sliding across the center console, she straddled his lap, her arms looping naturally around his neck to anchor herself against the lingering wave of fatigue.
"Hey" she said.
"Hey" Jameson replied a breath caught in his throat. His hands instinctively settled on her waist to steady her, his green eyes widening in the sudden proximity. His pulse hammered against his ribs in a completely different, dizzying way than it had on the roof.
Avery hummed against his neck and tightened her hold around him as the memories of the last few hours caught up to her again.
"Comfortable?" he asked, his voice low, a faint, breathless hint of his usual teasing smirk trying to break through the electric tension in the air.
"Yeah" Avery said resting her forehead directly against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thrum of his heart beneath her ear. In that quiet embrace, a brilliant, desperate thought took root in her mind. If this night had taught her anything, it was that secrets, lies and emotional walls were lethal. They needed a safeguard—a lifeline to keep them from slipping back into the dark, a way to anchor themselves to each other when the world tried to tear them apart.
"Jameson," she whispered against the fabric of his shirt, lifting her head to look right into his eyes.
"Yeah?"
"We need a rule" Avery said, pulling back just enough to study his face, her gaze tracing the sharp, familiar line of his jaw.
Jameson cocked his head to the side, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "A rule for?"
"Sometimes..." Avery started, her voice trembling slightly, "sometimes saying the truth is just too hard. We try to dance around it or we throw our walls back up before we even realize we're doing it. We hide behind riddles and games."
Jameson's expression softened instantly catching the heavy weight of her train of thought. His thumbs began tracing slow, deliberate circles against her hips through the fabric of her jacket.
"A code word" Avery said, her hazel eyes locking onto his with absolute, unwavering determination. Games were their native language, the way they connected best but they needed something sacred. "Whenever one of us uses it, the game stops. No jokes, no deflecting, no hiding behind a mask or a sarcastic remark. Absolute, unfiltered truth. No exceptions. No escape routes."
Jameson fell completely silent. He digested the heavy vulnerability of what she was asking. To a Hawthorne a complete and total surrender of defenses was terrifying—it meant leaving yourself entirely open to being shattered. But looking at Avery—the girl who had walked through hell and was still right here, holding his broken pieces together—he knew he would give her anything. He would burn down his walls if it meant keeping she felt safer.
"Okay, I like that" Jameson whispered back, his voice stripped of all bravado, entirely stripped of sarcasm. "What's the word, heiress?"
Avery smiled softly, the ghost of an old dream drifting into her mind—a postcard of what she had always wanted and what they could finally have together.
"Tahiti" she said softly.
Jameson realized instantly Tahiti was the place on the postcard he had seen Avery reread multiple times. The postcards were an inheritance of sorts from Avery's mother to her. A small, genuine smile finally reached his eyes as he realized how perfect it was.
"Tahiti?"
"Tahiti" Avery repeated, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. "Whenever either of us says it, the walls come down. No running away. No pretending we're fine when we're bleeding on the inside."
The code word gave them a choice, of being forced to let themselves feel but also feel safe a thing they both needed.
"Deal, heiress" Jameson murmured, his hands tightening around her waist just enough to pull her flush against him. "Absolute truth. No more hiding. You are a genius"
With their pact sealed in the dark with a kiss longer than necessary they finally slipped out of the car, scaling the balcony window and vanishing back into the safety of the house.
Taglist:- @hannahcharlie, @uhoh-teddi-ohs , @runnningoutofink @defiantlynocturnalsteel , @runnningoutofink @laurilovesbooks , @xxrenee, @taysversionah, @jamesonsheiress, @starlacedletters, @saythewordheiress, @leenloveslotsofthings, @kirapjo0818, @tobyspalindrome, @nothinggggg7, @sadiecece, @iheartkars ,@legoflxwers, @tooprecious2gamble, @angelnextdooor, @averygrambsswife, @averagebookgirlie , @gigisnerdycat, @thedeadtigsociety, @athena-888, @a-nightfull-of-books, @starrytrax, @iconicbitch11, @liketheriverr, @reminiscentreader, @eyesfullofst4r, @jamesonismyking, @bluxberryyy, @thedawnpixie, @thetortutedtigdepartment, @s-rosie, @xmayxxa, @swanala, @faye12344, @stresseddepressedtigobsessed (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)
My lips closed over his. He kissed me back, gentle at first, then not
gently at all. Maybe it was the aftereffects of shock, but as I drove my
hands into his hair, as he grabbed my ponytail and angled my face upward, I
could see a thousand versions of him in my mind: Balanced on the
balcony’s railing. Shirtless and sunlit in the solarium. Smiling. Smirking.
Our hands touching on the bridge. His body protecting mine in the Black
Wood. Trailing a washcloth down my neck—
Synopsis:- Jameson and Avery get drunk on their way to Morcco... This is how the events unfolded.
The leather seats of the Hawthorne private jet were incredibly comfortable but after seven hours in the air en route to Morocco the comfort had long since given way to unadulterated boredom.
At the front of the cabin Oren and the rest of the security detail were seated facing away from the back of the cabin. Where the billionaire heiress and her chaotic genius of a boyfriend were thoroughly trashed.
It had started innocently enough. Jameson had raided the jet's premium bar cart, declaring that it was a crime to let a twenty-thousand-dollar bottle of vintage champagne go to waste, they drank from it for a while but then came the game.
They couldn't just drink, they were Avery and Jameson which meant everything required rules.
"Two truths and a mundane lie" Jameson declared, his green eyes bright and slightly unfocused as he swirled a fresh glass of champagne "No riddles. No life-or-death secrets. Just boring facts to see how well we know eachother."
Avery's chin was rested on top of her knee, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "Your turn"
"Alright" Jameson leaned forward a conspiratorial smirk playing on his lips they had run out of almost all facts and point wise they were tied. "One:- I don't know how to properly fold a fitted sheet. Two:- I secretly prefer crunchy peanut butter over smooth. Three:- I have never once successfully used a coupon."
To a drunk Jameson those facts felt hard to decipher.
Avery snorted a sound that made Jameson's smile soften. "The sheet is true obviously because the staff does your laundry. The coupon is true because you're a trust fund dude. So the lie is the peanut butter. You're a smooth peanut butter guy, Hawthorne."
"Dammit Heiress," Jameson groaned taking a shot of the champagne. "You know me too well."
"That I do! Okay my turn," Avery chirped. The alcohol was fully settling into her veins now bringing with it a warm, fuzzy wave of affection. She shifted closer to him on the wide leather seat, her knees brushing his. "One:- I used to unironically watch competitive cup stacking videos on YouTube. Two:- I am terrified of moths. Three:- I can't whistle."
Jameson narrowed his eyes, studying her face pretending to find the lie in her face "You can whistle. I've heard you do it when you're thinking about a chess move. The moth thing is too specific. You watched cup stacking."
"I did!" Avery laughed, but as she did the sudden movement made her head spin. The warm fuzziness shifted from happy to incredibly affectionate. She didn't want to sit across from him anymore. She wanted to be directly on top of him.
Abandoning all pretense of personal space Avery crawled across the small gap between their seats tumbling into Jameson's lap in a tangle of limbs and soft cashmere.
"Whoa there" Jameson chuckled, his arms instinctively wrapping around her waist to steady her. "Losing your center of gravity, Heiress?"
"Shut up" she mumbled, burying her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like expensive cologne, woodsmoke and rain. She squeezed him tightly digging her fingers into his shirt. "You're warm. Stay still."
Jameson's breath hitched slightly, his smirk melting into something entirely genuine and fiercely protective. He pressed a kiss into her messy brown hair, his hands rubbing soothing circles into her back. "I'm not going anywhere."
And then because he was Jameson he quipped "You're very cuddly when you're drunk, you know."
"I am not," Avery protested into his collarbone though she simultaneously hooked her leg over his thigh to anchor herself. "I am a serious, dangerous billionaire. Fear me."
"I'm terrified," he whispered back teasingly biting her earlobe.
Avery shivered, pressing herself even closer if that was even physically possible. "Jameson?"
"Yeah Heiress?"
"Play with my hair."
He was shocked but didn't need to be told twice. His long fingers threaded through her locks, gently untangling the knots.
Avery let out a soft, contented sigh practically purring against him. For a girl who spent most of her life looking over her shoulder and playing high-stakes games, being drunk enough to completely drop her guard and just demand affection was a rare, beautiful thing. And Jameson was more than happy to indulge her.
The game was now forgotten in a way they would not have if they were not drunk.
And then suddenly the intercom crackled to life, the pilot's voice booming through the cabin. "Folks, we've begun our final descent into Marrakech. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for landing."
Avery groaned refusing to move. "Tell them to circle the airport. For an hour. Or three."
"As much as I love being your personal mattress, we have to sit up baby" Jameson said his voice thick with a mixture of alcohol and fondness and a nickname he would never be caught dead using since it was so basic.
It took them an immense amount of effort but they managed to buckle themselves into adjacent seats just as the plane tilted. And by the time the wheels hit the tarmac with a dull thud the reality of their situation began to set in.
They were very, very, very drunk. And they had to walk past Oren, security and a hotel lobby.
"Okay," Avery whispered looking at Oren and then back at Jameson, holding her head as the plane came to a halt. "We just have to act normal. Standard behavior. Professional. Stoic. Like Landon says"
"Easy," Jameson agreed though he was currently trying to put his left shoe on his right foot. "We are masters of deception. We survived my grandfather's games. We can survive this easily."
The cabin door opened just as they set their plan into motion. Avery and Jameson stood up, immediately swaying in unison. They grabbed onto each other for support, laughing silently until their stomachs hurt.
Yeah they were cooked. But Avery didn't care.
"Get it together!" she hissed, slapping his chest. "Look stern."
They stumbled out to the front of the plane doing their best stern expression... They looked constipaited.
Oren was already standing by the exit arms crossed over his chest, his expression entirely unreadable behind his sunglasses. He took one look at Avery's flushed face and crooked sweater, then shifted his gaze to Jameson's glassy eyes and backward shoes.
Oren let out a long sigh. These kids would be the death of him.
"Good evening, Oren!" Jameson said his voice a little too loud, a little too enunciated, a little to happy for his usual teasing tone. "Splendid weather we're having in... Africa."
"Don't speak," Oren said flatly reaching to the conclusion they were drunk. "Just walk to the car. Don't touch anything. Don't look at anyone. And don't talk to anyone with a camera. Alisa will not be happy if the headline tomorrow is about you being drunk."
"We are pillars of sobriety!" Avery assured him, nodding solemnly, though she accidentally bumped her shoulder against the doorframe on her way out (it did not hurt... maybe).
The walk to the car was something and the drive to the luxury resort was a blur of neon lights and Avery secretly holding Jameson's hand under a jacket, squeezing it every time the car turned. By the time they arrived at the palatial hotel, the alcohol had hit a secondary peak. Avery's legs felt like overcooked spaghetti.
As they walked into the arched lobby, Jameson suddenly leaned down to Avery's ear. "Let's commit a bit of light fraud."
"What?" she giggled.
"Watch this." Jameson stepped up to the check-in desk, leaning against it with an aristocratic air.
When he spoke to the receptionist, his voice had shifted into a posh, ridiculously over-the-top British accent. "Right then, darling. Cheers. We're here for the Hawthorne reservation. Splendid establishment you've got here, absolutely brilliant."
Avery gasped, covering her mouth to hide her hysterical laughter. She couldn't let him do it alone. She stepped up beside him, adopting the worst, most aggressive Cockney accent humanly possible. "G'day mate—no... wait... that's Australian—ello gov'nor! Quite a fancy place, innit? Cor blimey, I'm absolutely parched fancy a spot of tea?"
The receptionist blinked, looking entirely bewildered but far too polite to say anything to the people paying for the royal suite.
It was obvious they made zero sense.
Behind them, Oren put his face entirely into his hands. His shoulders shook, not with laughter but with the profound weight of his life choices. "I don't get paid enough for this," he muttered to himself in a voice that sounded like grinding stones. "I should have stayed in the Marines."
"Right, brilliant thank you mate!" Jameson cheered as the receptionist handed over the electronic key cards with a trembling hand.
They turned around to head toward the elevators but the moment Avery took a step, her knee buckled completely. She leaned heavily into Jameson, her head hitting his chest. "Jameson," she whined her fake accent completely vanishing replaced by pure, sleepy bliss. "My legs don't work. Carry me. Please."
Jameson looked down at her, his expression melting into pure mush. "Your wish is my command, Heiress."
Then with a sudden burst of drunken athleticism, Jameson scooped her up in a bridal carry making Avery squeak, she immediately looped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.
"Jameson, put her down you're going to drop her" Oren warned, marching after them like a disgruntled babysitter as they navigated the hallways.
"I would never drop her," Jameson said with fierce, drunken dignity, though he did accidentally swipe Avery's foot against a potted fern as they turned a corner. "See? Perfectly safe. She's like a backpack. A very frontfacing, heavy backpack."
"You're a backpack, and I am not heavy" Avery mumbled sleepily against his neck.
"Yeah" was all Jameson could say back as they finally reached the suite.
Oren stepped ahead, swiping the card to open the door and then cleared the room after the security sweep all the while Avery and Jameson were trying not to 'boo' at the bald dude not letting them crash into the bed.
Oren finally turned around, looking at the two of them. Jameson was currently rocking Avery back and forth as if she were a toddler and Avery was tracing random shapes on Jameson's jawline with her finger.
"I am standing guard outside, and my room is connected to the main hall" Oren said, his voice deadpan completely stripped of all emotion. "If either of you decides to go base jumping off the balcony or order a live camel to the room, I am quitting. Do you understand me?"
"Crystal clear, big guy" Jameson beamed.
"Goodnight, Oren love you," Avery called out sleepily.
Oren didn't reply but he did smile at the very drunk girl and then closed the door with a firm click that practically screamed 'I am done with you both.'
The moment the door closed, Jameson carried Avery over to the massive king sized bed draped in silk sheets. He tumbled down with her letting them both collapse onto the mattress in a heap of soft pillows.
Avery immediately crawled into his space, draping her entire body over his chest pinning him down. "Don't move."
Jameson wrapped his arms around her waist instantly pulling the heavy duvet over both of them. The room was cool, the hum of the air conditioner a soothing background noise to the racing of his own heart. He looked down at Avery, whose eyes were already half closed a soft, content smile resting on her lips.
"We survived," Jameson whispered brushing a stray hair from her forehead.
"We were brilliant" Avery agreed (they were not), her voice barely a murmur. She snuggled closer letting her cheek resting right over his heartbeat. "Especially the accents."
"Absolute masterpieces of theater," Jameson agreed kissing the top of her head. "Sleep, Heiress. Tomorrow we conquer Morocco."
"Mm hm. Tomorrow," Avery sighed completely safe, incredibly warm and deeply in love, falling fast asleep in the arms of her favorite Hawthorne (second favorite).
they don’t really fight but when they do, it escalates
avery would say things but wouldn’t mean it
she would go cry after in the bathroom because she feels guilty everytime
jameson tries to always apologize first because he’s scared avery would hate him forever
avery always tells him that he shouldn’t apologize first if he didn’t do anything wrong
jameson will never raise his voice at avery - no matter what
it hurts avery anytime she sees jameson upset but trying to cover it up with humour
jameson barely ever cries at all so whenever avery can tell hes trying to keep it in, she tells him it’s okay to cry
avery will stay with him with hours on end to comfort him
avery also never cries so jameson gets concerned and does anything he can to make her happy again
avery has times where she overworks so badly and gets stressed easily
jameson tries to push himself to the max so people get the best impression of him rather than thinking of him as “ordinary.”
they both get therapy after tgb
avery tries not to tell people about her problems because she thinks it will burden them
jameson gets hurt when he realizes avery does this
avery admits that she can’t take deep breaths in quiet rooms - the silence of a room reminds her of being trapped sometimes
sometimes tahiti isn’t used even when they know they should - they feel like they still have strength without admitting to what’s bothering them
after avery came back from being kidnapped, jameson was overly protective - even though he knew she can fight her own battles, being there with her knowing she’s safe gave him comfort
ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ .☘︎ ݁˖
jameson is a thrill-seeker and reckless at first and avery initially sees herself as someone who doesn’t belong in their world - viewing herself as a mystery after gaining the inheritance. avery and jameson begin working together to find out the secrets of tobias hawthorne and why he left the inheritance to avery, peeling back layers of the past one by one. jameson views avery as a game at first and a puzzle left by tobias to keep him playing one last time - developing in a relationship where they challenge eachother to grow. avery throughout the series helps jameson open up emotionally and jameson encourages avery to push herself + take risks. they understand eachother in ways no one else can and they face challenges + obstacles together. they have a relationship built upon layers of trust, support, patience and unwavering love and will choose eachother again and again without a doubt - the very essence and beauty of unconditional love.
ˢᵒⁿᵍˢ.☘︎ ݁˖
run for the hills - tate mcrae.
inbetween - gracie abrams.
all night - beyonce.
siren sounds - tate mcrae.
in the rain - david russell.
sweater weather - the neighbourhood.
je te laisserai des mots - patrick watson.
ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ qᵘᵒᵗᵉˢ.☘︎ ݁˖
“beside avery, jameson was looking at her as if she was the the sun and the moon and the stars and eternity, all rolled into one.”
“but mostly, i can’t hate him, avery kylie grambs, because he brought me you.”
“i love you. i would die to protect you. i would make you hate me to keep you safe because damn it avery- some things are too precious to gamble.”
“it was - now and always - jameson and avery against the world.”
“fear was loving someone so fiercely that there was no point in your heart beating if hers did not.”
ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵉˢ .☘︎ ݁˖
promise ring scene.
the dancing scene in prague + in the grandest game.
the night in prague.
confession scene when avery was in the hospital.
ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵘⁿⁱᵛᵉʳˢᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ .☘︎ ݁˖
ladybug and cat noir - miraculous ladybug.
enola and tewksbury - enola holmes.
buttercup and wesley - the princess bride.
peter and lara jean - to all the boys i loved before.
flynn and rapunzel - tangled.
𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐍 @thetortutedtigdepartment - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
