#is that his last name?? davenport??

[guess-i-do-art]

BEHOLD my designs for Fred and Arch! And if you didn’t see my first Fred post my design for Krystal as well!

Once I heard this audio I couldn’t help but put these characters over it because they just fit so well 😭😂

[undescribed1mage]

They're all fighting for the spot of 'This is Buttons' in my head btw (it will end in a tie & i will make a universe where there is three Buttons)

[chaoticfvckingdisaster]

Chase "my genius knows no bounds" Davenport and Kaz "genius with a capitol J" imeras

[anistarrose]

ough it's just. "the Red Robe" forcing Captain Bane to drink the poison. Barry forcing Davenport to drink the ichor. the murder scene that introduces the Red Robe as a villain, and the last benevolent action he takes towards a member of his family before they remember he's not a villain. they're bookends to each other. the man once called Barry takes control of Bane's body to kill him, hence the Red Robe enters the narrative, as a threat. then the man once called "the Red Robe" takes control of Davenport's body to help him, just like he already helped inoculate Merle and Taako — hence the real Barry enters the narrative, finally remembered as a hero. and in hindsight, it even becomes clear — he only killed Bane to protect his family, too. the initial obfuscation, and final clarification, of his intentions — to the viewer and protagonist perspectives — both come from his power to control other people, through which he makes them drink. it's recontextualization by repetition, elegantly circular storytelling — and it all comes down to some guy named Barry Bluejeans.

[infiniteglitterfall]

I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly

I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)

From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:

Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.

Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hamm’s League, informed a cheering crowd that “the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.” Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.

One of the league’s speakers called for retribution against “the Jews” for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. “Is it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?” he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speaker’s platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hamm’s speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.

MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that “as a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.” Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, “is only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.”

The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood — violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.

The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.

And an important addendum:

I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.

Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.

I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.

Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.

Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.

[nickfurysrighteye]

college au!chase davenport x fem!reader PART 2

summary: after your kiss in the library things between you and chase get a lot more..intense

cw: NSFW!! male masturbation, oral + fingering (f! receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), moaning kink (idk if there's a proper name for it or if it's even a thing but oh well), use of pet names (ex. baby, love), dirty talk, cumming inside.

words: 5.2k

a/n: this is my first time writing something this smutty so i hope you like it :) if you missed the first part, clik here

MDNI!!!

after your "study session" at the library you were left wondering if chase felt what you felt, if that kiss is haunting him like it does with you. it's the only thing you can think about. during lectures, while you study, while you're talking with your friends, the only thing going through your head is that kiss. the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands all over your body giving you that tingling sensation.

the fact is, that kiss is not only haunting chase like it's haunting you, but it has become an obsession. he can't stop replaying that moment in his head and his imagination is taking over, making up fantasies about fucking you at any time in any place. he can't no longer study because his mind is filled up with images of you naked laying on his bed moaning out his name as you cum on his face while he's eating you out. he likes to imagine your tits bouncing as you ride his dick, your wet cunt spilling cum all over him.

it's perverted but he can't help it, he gets so hard at the thought of cumming inside of you his dick aches. he lays on his bed every night with his eyes closed imagining fucking you over and over and over again while he pumps his dick with his hand. "fuuuck..y/n please..oh my god..holy shit" he whimpers and moans while thick loads of cum cover his hand. he never had sex but he also never thought about it like this until that kiss with you in the library.

your number saved on his phone stays untouched, he's too scared to text you or call you. if he has these kind of thoughts while you're not around he doesn't want to know what his mind will come up with once he's with you.

chase's torn though, he's scared but doesn't want you to think he doesn't like you. one afternoon he decides to text you.

"hey y/n it's Chase, i'm so sorry about not texting you sooner. i'd really love to see you." once the text is sent he throws his phone on the bed, he's so scared you'll be too mad at him to even respond to his text.

his phone chimes. it's you.

"hey chase, I'd love to see you too. mind if I come over tonight?" oh my fucking god she wants to see me he thinks, he really didn't expect you to be this calm.

"sure, why don't you come over around nine thirty?"

"perfect i'll see you later :)"

-

at nine o'clock the doorbell rings and Chase opens the door to find you standing there.

"hi" you smile.

"hi, come on in."

"i'm having deja vu" you laugh trying to shake off the tension. you hope he doesn't sense how nervous you are, and if he does you hope he's as nervous as you.

"would you like some tea?" chase ask kindly as he walks to the kitchen.

"sure, thanks." you follow him. "where's your brother?"

"oh adam went out with his friends, honestly i have no idea where he is but he won't be back soon." his back's facing you as he prepares the tea, boiling hot water already in the kettle. you lean against the counter.

"so... we're alone?"

"yeah, i thought it wouldn't be a problem considering what we did when we were alone last time." he looks at you with a smirk while handing you a mug. you try to hide your smile. you go sit down on the couch and chase follows you, sitting down next to you. he places his mug onto the coffee table.

"look i don't wanna ruin this already but there's something i wanna talk to you about. about the library thing..i- i liked..kissing you.. and i would have continued what we were doing but i panicked and just ran out and i was too scared to call-"

"chase." you stop his spiral "I really liked kissing you too." a soft smile appears on his lips as he look down embarrassed.

"sorry, I'm nervous. i just like you. a lot."

you put down your mug and get a bit closer to him. "i like you too, a lot. since we kissed i couldn't stop thinking about you. actually i've never stopped thinking about you since i first talked to you." you stop for a moment, gazing at his features once again. it all comes back again: the warmth, the ecstacy, feeling his touch all over you, how his lips felt so familiar onto yours, like they had always belonged there.

it's not easy, explaining the longing desire not only your body but also your mind has for him. any experience, any connection you had with anyone else before compared to him becomes dull, vain, shallow. you only shared a kiss and it's eating you alive.

your hand finds it's way onto his neck and pull him closer. this time he kisses you more roughly, with more passion. his hands are quick to travel all over your body again pulling you even closer. all of chase's thought are about having you as close as possible to him, he has been longing your warmth for days. he takes your leg and brings it over to his other side so that you're sitting on top of him. his kisses get sloppier, messier, his tongue savors yours like he's been starved for weeks. he grabs your ass, making you whimper a little.

"god you're so cute when you do that."

his lips quickly crash back onto yours and he holds you even closer making you giggle into the kiss. your heart is palpitating and your body gets hotter and hotter as your tongues swirl together. slowly, you start moving your hips, grinding against his groin, making chase moan. you can feel his pants getting tighter as his dick gets harder with your every move, you can feel his hard tip pushing against your clit through your pants. your lips gradually move from his lips to his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind as you pick up the pace with your hips. the fair scent of his cologne inebriate you as you suck and bite at his skin, leaving little red and purpleish spot on his neck.

chase pushes back his head, soft moans come out of his mouth as his breath becomes shorter. this is better than any scenario he imagined for this night, it would be even better if he gets to act out the fantasies that had been taunting him since the last time you met.

"you don't know how much i wanted this." his whisper's followed by a soft grunt.

"there's so much more i can do to you if you want me to"

your hands slide down his torso, getting closer to the waistband of his pants. clarity hits chase for a brief moment and all of a sudden he feels hesitant. he fantasized about doing certain things to you but he had never done it in real life. a wave of anxiety takes over him. what if he can't make you feel as good as he wants you to? what if he can't do it at all? you move your head away from his neck and go to kiss him on the lips again but you see the doubtful look in his eyes.

"chase, did i say something wrong? are you ok?" the last thing you wanted to do is make him uncomfortable.

"i..uh.."

"we can stop if you want." you start lifting your leg to get off of him but chase stops you.

"no i don't wanna stop. it's just that i..uh..i've never done it before. i actually never done any of this before."

you laugh softly "does that mean i get to be your first?"

-

you're laying on his bed, chase's on top of you, you feel the warmth of his body heating you up, he's leaving faint kisses all over your neck and collarbone. your fingers intertwine and you get lost in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

chase lowers one of his hands to undo the button of your pants, he slide them off your legs. he stops for a moment to admire your body, feeling your curves with his fingertips, causing you to have chills running down your spine.

he hooks his fingers to the sides of your panties, his eyes glued to the wet spot in the middle.

"may i?" he looks up at you for approval. you nod your head so he gently slides them down your legs, tossing them aside. then, he spreads your legs a bit more to fully marvel at your wet folds, touching them lightly with two fingers.

"can i eat you out? please?" you never had a guy staring at you with those lustfull eyes begging you to eat you out. "yes, yes please."

chase then quickly presses his lips onto your soaked cunt, brushing his tongue against your wet lips. he whirls it around until he finds your clit, your heart racing as soon as he hits the spot.

"is this ok?" does this feel good?" he stops to look at you when he hears a faint whimper coming out of you.

"it feels really good please keep going." your fingers find their way through his soft brown hair, messing it up and tugging lightly at his scalp. chase keeps pressing onto your sensitive clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it.

"oh my god chase" your moans awake something in him, making him go faster and harder. he can't help but groan into your cunt, you just taste too good. he gets so much pleasure from just tasting you, he would have never imagined your cunt being so addictive.

you moan and whine, feeling your orgasm grow in your lower belly, but you don't want to cum just yet. while his tongue is focused on your clit, chase's fingers feel the wetness of your folds, then he carefully slides two fingers in. slowly he starts pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside you. your cunt feels so tight around his fingers, the only thing he thinks about is how good it would feel to have it wrapped around his dick.

each curl of his fingers sends chills down your entire body, like electricity running through your veins. clear, slick fluids covering them more and more with each thrust as his tongue brushes against your bud. the silence of the room is filled with your desperate moans, at this point you're not even trying to hide how good it feels having him between your legs.

the sweet sounds escaping your mouth fill him pleasure. his pants have become so tight around him he's just craving some release. he can feel precum leaking from his tip, soaking his underwear, as he grinds against the bed while his face's buried in your cunt, lapping up all your juices like he has been dying of thrist.

you can't take it anymore, you just want to have him. you need him. you need to feel him inside of you. you want to fuck him until he begs because he can't take it anymore.

"chase please i need you..please chase fuck me" you moan louder and louder, your cunt pulsating as you get closer and closer. suddenly he stops, taking out his fingers, licking them clean. the absence of his touch is making you ache, your body needs more of him. it needs to feel more of him. he takes off his shirt, showing off his toned body, his pants hang lower from all the grinding so the v line of his hips is showing. your eyes scan his body, going lower and lower, admiring all of his features. the faint line of light brown hairs guides your eyes from his belly down to the waistband of his underwear showing from his jeans.

chase notices you're staring; he chuckles "what?"

"nothing.. it's not every day i get to see a guy with a body like that between my legs, so i wanna enjoy the view." you lightly bite your lower lip, your words make chase laugh a little more as his cheeks become a fair red color.

chase leans back down to kiss you ardently, hands traveling up your shirt, cupping your breasts. he takes the shirt off of you, having you now fully naked on his bed. he couldn't ask for a more beautiful view. his eyes land on your round tits, they're even better than he imagined, so soft and full.

"you're so fucking beautiful." he dives into your neck, leaving a trace of harsh kisses, licking and nibbling the soft skin. your hands find their way to his bulge, applying enough pressure to make him groan.

"ugh fuck – i want to fuck you so badly" he moans into your neck as he holds you closer.

you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper "then take your pants off."

-

now chase's lying on the bed, completely stripped, his long, thick dick in your hand throbbing and soaked with precum. you tease him by rubbing it against your folds, wetting his tip.

"please y/n, please"

"you want me to ride you? you want me to make you feel good chase?"

"yes please y/n, i want you to make me feel good please ugh –" his words turn into moans as you slide your cunt against his length and slowly grind the tip against your clit, getting him all nice and wet.

you decide it was enough with the teasing so you take his dick and slowly insert it inside you, taking it all inch by inch.

"oohh fuck —" he hisses, you take your time starting to pump his dick inside you, fully adjusting to his length. you start to find your rhythm, slowly going up and down, moving your hips, savoring every movement, every sensation having him inside you makes you feel. chase's hands travel up and down your thighs and caress your warm skin. he moves them upwards and grabs firmly at the soft skin of your ass, making your hips move at a quicker pace. although he loves how you're making him feel so good, making him feel a type of plesure he never experienced before and could have never experienced it without you, he needs more.

"ugh — your pussy feels so fucking good" he lets out, his eyes close for a moment and he lets his head go even more further into the pillows. this still isn't enough though. his body yearns for more. he plants his feet firmly on the bed so he can prop his hips up and push you even harder down his dick, now he's fully guiding you up and down while gripping your ass so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a red mark afterwards. he hits your sweet spot so hard you can't help but moan and whimper, completely melting as he thrusts deeper into you. those harmonious sounds that leave your pretty lips make him spiral; his ears have never been blessed with such lovely sound before this very moment, he wants to give you even more pleasure just so he can keep hearing the sweet noises you make for him. he frees one of his hands from your hips and wonders down to where the two of you are connected. he place his thumb onto your sentive clit, rubbing small circles.

the moans become even louder and he can't help but listen, completely in awe. the fact he can give you this much pleasure feeds his ego in a way he could have never expected. you sink into him and suddenly he wraps an arm around your body, keeping a tight grip onto your side. a thick white ring forming at the base of his dick, now the whimpers and the moans mixed with wet sounds.

"—shit i'm gonna fucking cum - fuck chase oh fuck – oh my god "

"yeah baby just like that — cum on my cock just like that ~"

a wave of electricity passes through your body as you reach your climax, as chase still pushes your hips up and down to fuck you through your high you let your body relax onto him. his grip turns into an embrace, protecting your body from the cold air of the room. chase moves his hand to your cheek to move away some strands of hair that covered your pretty fucked out face, placing a gentle kiss onto your lips while the two of you are still connected at your core.

"let's..slow down for a minute..ok?" words escape your lips between breaths while a soft smile curved your lips.

"we can take all the time you want baby" chase caresses your pink, warm, cheeks and kisses you gently, moving his lips delicately. it's different from before; this time it's not passion what you can perceive into the kiss, but rather love. it's a kiss to make you feel taken care of, to show to you you're not just a piece of meat to him. no guy who only wanted you for your body would kiss you the way chase does and he wants to be sure you feel that with each and every movement of his lips.

he gracefully turns you around so that you're laying on the bed below him, still caressing your skin and leaving soft pecks onto your lips, cheeks, neck and collarbone.

"you wanna keep going?" you look up at him with big shiny eyes. he nods and places himself at your entrance, your cunt's still wet and puffy. he pushes back in and starts to thrust with his hips gradually finding a steadier rhythm. as he slides back and forth he kisses you tenderly but the more his pleasure grows the messier the kisses become. an arm swiftly moves beneath you, his palm open against your back, drawing you closer to his body and elevating your hip to thrust even deeper. he touches your sweet spots again and low, soft moans come out of you.

the rush your moans give him feel is unbelievable. they turn him on so much. he picks up the pace, panting and groaning as he feels your tight walls wrap around him, clenching each time he hits your favorite spot.

"please chase don't stop – ugh how can you be this fucking good —" your words feed his ego so much his lips curl into a smirk.

"if you don't want me to stop, let me hear those sweet sounds you make f'me –"

chase lifts his body up and spreads your legs to bring your cores closer and thrust harder. "spread your legs f'me baby ~ like that, wider." chase's hand travels from behind your back down to your clit and begins to rub it in circle motions once again, giving you that heavenly sensation.

"fuck! – chase –"

all of a sudden, you hear a muffled sound of keys rattling in the distance, followed by the sound of the front door being shut closed. a dulled voice starts echoing through the hallway.

"shit your brother's home" you're quite surprised by his early return home, it can't be later than eleven.

adam enters the apartment, throwing his keys on the little table next to the front door.

" – what did you want me to do man? i wouldn't have left if your friend wasn't a piece of shit! –" he spits his words angrily at the person he was talking to on the phone "– what does that have to do with anything? dude if you don't want someone flirting with your girl don't fucking bring her to the party! whatever man i gotta go, i'll see you tomorrow." a deep annoyed groan leaves his mouth as he falls back on the charcoal colored couch, letting his head fall against the cushion and rubbing his tired eyes with his fingertips. his eyelids fall heavy, his head hurts a little bit from the couple of drinks he had at his friend's place so to calm the throbbing adam stays there lying against the cushion.

despite your concern, chase doesn't stop thrusting into you for a single second, with the same force, trying to savour the pleasure. his finger's still rubbing small circles around your clit, waves of pleasure come crashing into you with every move, your cunt getting more and more wet and making his dick slide in and out of your needy hole with more and more ease. it was aphrodisiacal for him, seeing you like this, almost as if you were a drug: legs spread, tits bouncing back and forth with every thrust..although his favorite thing is seeing your cunt all stretched out by his cock, wrapping it all and making it so so wet, milky fluid spilling out of the sides every time his thick cock makes his way into you. on top of all of this, he's the one getting you this wet, making you feel so good you moan his name. except that now instead of the sweet sounds he likes so much, all he hears are soft whines muffled by a pillow you keep close to your mouth with your hand.

"why so quiet now huh?"

"your brother's gonna hear us."

"you think i care? it's not like he worries about noise when he brings girls over while I'm home" he leans closer to your ear "also there's nothing that turn me on more that hearing your sweet voice moaning my name" his lips leave hot kisses on your neck as he whispers "so please love let me hear how good i make you feel" he grabs both of your wrists with his left hand, pinning them above your head so that you can't cover your face and he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

"ugh — chase -"

"yeah like that keep going – louder" the thrusts get harder and quicker.

"ugh chase – oh fuck ugh–" you raise your voice even more, the pleasure is becoming so much you feel another orgasm approaching.

"fuck y/n – you're gonna make me fucking come–" he frees your wrists and instead wraps one arm around you, crushing you with his body and placing the other hand on your puffy clit again.

"oh please don't stop don't stop don't stop ~"

"ugh 'm gonna fill you up – you're so fucking tight you feel so good baby ~"

the loud sounds the both of you make are muffled by the locked bedroom door, but it's not enough to make them unable to hear.

adam's eyes open again, he fell asleep briefly and somehow wakes up with an even bigger headache, so big his ears must have started hearing weird things... like the sounds coming from his brother's bedroom? no it can't be, he thinks, chase never has girls over, is he watching porn? adam waits a few moments sitting still on the couch, then his gaze falls on the two full but cold cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. confused, adam starts scanning the room with his eyes for other unusual signs: a leather jacket hanged on the coat rack, along with a scarf and a small bag, both of which are neither his or his brother's.

more muffled sounds come from behind the closed door "chase please –"

a disgusted expression falls onto adam's face when he realizes what's happening "oh my god! are you kidding me!? ugh so gross!" he brings his hands to his ears and walks away to his room, the more he tries to not hear the more disgusted he gets. adam shuts the door of his room loudly, making his presence clear as if you didn't already know he was home.

chase’s face is buried into your neck, kissing it and breathing in your scent as he gets closer to climax. at this point, his thrusts have become so quick and messy he's barely pulling out before he pushes hard back into you. he's inebriated. your legs, wrapped around his waist keeping him close, tremble each time he pushes into you and graze your sweet spot with the tip of his dick. moans come out of your mouth one after the other against his ear. your hands are placed against his back and you're unconsciously digging your nails into his skin, slowly dragging them down and leaving red marks that are emphasized even more by his fair complexion. he's definitely going to brag about them later. your mouth's wide open when you feel your walls clench against him, breath hitching with his every thrust, and suddenly the pleasure overwhelms you, hitting you hard as you cum for a second time. moans becoming cries of plesure filling the room when your orgasm drowns you and draw chase even closer to the edge. he can't no longer contain himself and with loud groans he spills thick long ropes of cum into you. he's moaning, swearing, spilling out incoherent half sentences while still thrusting into you fucking the both of you through your high.

when it wears off, chase gradually slows down until he finally stops and catch his breath. your heart's beating so fast you can feel almost jumping out of your chest, you feel your tired legs ache the moment you let go of chase's waist and relax them onto the bed. still all inside you, chase rests his body onto you, buring his face into the crook of your neck once again.

"holy shit –" his voice is soft and quiet since he's still catching his breath. his words make you chuckle and he can't help but smile against your skin. he could listen to your laugh forever.

chase lifts his body up and pulls out of you, letting the white fluid spill out of your puffy hole. "i'm gonna go get something to clean you up with ok? i'll be right back." he smiles softly with his rosy lips, then leans down to place a gentle kiss yours while caressing your warm cheek with his thumb.

"okay." you smile back at him.

-

a beam of light shines through the drawn curtain and touches the bare skin of your face and shoulders, the warmth is comforting. you can feel arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead as you wake up and your eyes adjust slowly to the light. you and chase lie skin to skin, both of you only wearing your underwear. being this close to him, you can feel his sweet-smelling scent with each breath you take.

"good morning" chase's voice is lower and a little raspy "did you sleep well?" he delicately moves little strands of hair out of your face with his fingers, then places them onto your satiny cheek.

"yeah. i really like your voice in the morning." he laughs softly at your compliment, his smile is so contagious you can't help but giggle with him.

"thank you" he says with his low voice, "are you hungry? i can make you something to eat if you want."

"sure"

"alright, i'll go to the kitchen real quick, I'll be right back." he places three pecks on your face: on your cheek, then the corner of your lips and then finally your lips. then, chase gets out of the bed and throws on a grey short-sleeved tshirt that was lying around, just to wear something more than only his briefs. he heads for the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him.

he finds adam already up and dressed, standing at the front door about to leave.

"what are you doing up so early?" adam asks him with a slight surprise in his tone, despite being him who usually wakes up late.

"i could ask you the same question. where are you going?"

"i was gonna go have breakfast at the café down the street, didn't wanna disturb you and your...friend. 'm not really used to being the odd man out."

"yeah, I guess that doesn't happen a lot." chase finds the role reversal pretty ironic and kinda hard to believe, he didn't think there was ever going to be a situation like this.

"what about you? what are you doing?"

"oh i was gonna make y/n something to eat. she's still in bed."

adam starts to chuckle at his brother words "chase, really? you're making her breakfast?" the innocent smile that was once plastered across chase's face fades away "you're so naive it's adorable."

"what? i wanted to do something nice for her."

"those kind of things are boyfriend things, you don't do that with a one night stand. you never give a girl boyfriend treatment when you're not the boyfriend. the way this works is: she comes over, you hook up then leave her out the front door when you're done."

"well..what if i don't wanna do that? what if i wanna give her the "boyfriend treatment" because i would actually like to be her boyfriend?"

adam laughs loudly like chase just asked him the dumbest question in the world, which to him sounds like it. "like you would ever date y/n. she's waaaay out of your league. it would be a miracle if you even got close to go out with her once, let alone date her. trust me, be happy you two fucked and give up."

as soon as adam is finished with his sentence he opens the front door and leaves, his laughs still lingering in the room as chase stands still in front of the dor. suddenly, the sound of another door opening catches his attention. you come outside of chase's room, wearing only the shirt he had on the previous night and your underwear. he turns around to see you getting closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"hey, what's with that face? everything's ok?" you look up at him worried, you didn't hear much of their conversation besides their muffled voices and adam's laugh. chase smiles softly trying to hide doubt his brother's words have raised in him.

"it's nothing, don't worry about it." you don't respond, you just furrow your eyebrows and look at him with those shiny eyes.

chase shakes his head slightly, pondering whether or not tell you. "it's dumb, really...it's just that – mhm – no, no, just – just forget it. forget i said anything."

"what is it chase?"

he takes a deep breath then exhales "i don't want...this to be a one time thing, nor a "friends with benefits" thing. i'm really, really, attracted to you and i'd love to take you out on a date, do things the way you're supposed to." at first, you don't say anything, your gaze is glued on him.

"i knew it was dumb, i'm so-"

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

his smile grows wide again "are you serious?" you simply nod, which is enough to make his smile even bigger. he cups your cheeks with both of his hands and cloeses the distance between you two, crashing your lips together with a big smile still plastered onto his face.

"i'm sorry you must be hungry, i'll go make some breakfast."

"oh don't worry there's no need to rush."

"then what do you wanna do?"

you look up at him, lips curled in a sly smile.

"i'm up for morning sex if you are."

the same sly smile appears on his face instantly.

"let's go to the bedroom."

-

a/n: thank you for reading and most importantly thank you so much for the patience!!! i really hope y'all enjoyed this fic <3

tag: @maggiecc @kenshomin @thechalkprincessemma @vildetry06 @sexiestmfdeadoralive

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

[satyrtransforms]

Tornado Wrangers Need Good Boots

Chris smiled as he hit the alarm on the motel’s bedside table. Today was the day, after years of watching his videos, Chris was finally going to meet the tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens. Chris had booked his trip down to Oklahoma during peak Tornado season for the best chance of meeting his idol. He had picked correctly. Last night, Tyler made a post telling his fans that he was going to be in Davenport for a fillup and some new gear and Chris had wasted no time driving up and checking himself into the city’s motel. He got up and threw on a shirt, quickly making his way outside.

Next to the gas station across the street, a small group of fans were already gathered, waiting for Tyler to arrive. He joined them just in time to see the signature red Ram pulling into the station, country music blaring loudly from the speakers. The fans began to shout and cheer and Chris joined them. As the car rolled to a halt, Tyler stepped out and everyone went wild. He flashed a smirk as he hopped down and walked over to greet his fans.Chris felt himself buzzing with excitement and also felt something stirring in his pants. He ignored the feeling and waited for his turn to meet the Tornado Wrangler. When Tyler finally approached him, Chris eagerly shook his hand. 

“My name’s Chris, I’m a huge fan. I’ve been watching your videos for years now and I was wondering, what exactly does it take to join your team?” Tyler gave a cocky smile.

“Well I’m glad to hear you've been enjoyin’ my streams.” He said, his accent piercing his voice. “There’s a lot of aspects to the craft that go beyond ridin’ around and seeing what we can do to those beauties of nature. There’s always-” He paused and gave a look that Chris couldn’t quite place. Knowing, almost.

“Say, you seem like a smart guy, adventurous too. You think you’ve got what it takes to be with the Tornado Wrangler?” Chris grinned. “Yes sir!”

“Good. Maybe we do have an opening on our team. If you’re interested of course.” Tyler smirked.

Christ couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?” “Sure!” Tyler clapped him on the back, “We came here for equipment, who’s to say you’re not? Metaphorically of course…”

“Holy shit! Wow! When can I start?” Chris thought about his job and his family back in New York, but this was the chance of a lifetime! “Right away. I presume you’re staying at the motel? Come, let’s go grab your things.” Tyler led the way as they walked back to the motel.

Christ opened the door and quickly began to gather his things. His mind was already racing with how crazy this all was. Tyler just sat calmly at the couch. “So, what exactly will I be doing on the team?” Chris asked as he turned to face Tyler. “Ah well,” Tyler began to take off his cowboy boots and rested his feet up on the coffee table. “I think that I have the perfect job for you.” Chris was about to enquire further when he smelled it. An earthy smell, musky, part B/O, part dirt. But also slightly sweet, masculine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but feel drawn to the Wrangler’s sweaty, musky feet. He walked across the room towards Tyler, almost trance-like.

“Like what you see? Or smell, should I say?” Tyler smirked, watching him approach. The smell, Chris craved it now, he needed it. He couldn’t control himself as he bent down and began to sniff. Deep, hypnotic intoxicating whiffs. “That’s it, keep goin’ good boy.”

Chris began to lick, taking in the salty, musky taste in deep licks. He felt his cock begin to stir in his jeans as he continued taking in Tyler’s musky soles. 

“You’re doing so well Chris, that’s right, keep going.” He encouraged as Chris inhaled hypnotic whiff after hypnotic whiff. He began to moan as felt himself getting hard, his sensitive tip already leaking pre. Tyler pushed his foot into Chris’s mouth and let the other one rest on his growing bulge.

“Such a good boy, I was hopin’ to get a new pair of boots on this stop, and you’re just perfect.”

Chris’s mind was too hazy to process what Tyler had said, all he could think about was how good his feet smelled, how much he needed them. Nothing else mattered other than Tyler’s sweaty, hot feet. Oblivious to all around him, he barely felt the Wrangler stick his foot deeper into Chris’s mouth. As his over foot began to tease Chris’s leaking cock, Chris tried to let out a moan of pleasure but found himself unable to. It was as if his vocal cords were gone and his body was changing, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was Tyler’s musk. Tyler smiled as he saw Chris’s body begin to change, stiffening, changing composition. Chris himself could do nothing but melt in pure pleasure, his mouth and head began to change, taking more of Tyler’s foot in. While his sight and sound were getting worse, he felt his taste and smell getting better. He could feel Tyler’s foot wriggle around and felt the musk as his head continued to wrap around the hairy, sweaty foot. In the meantime, his cock started to flatten out as he felt his lower half wrap around Tyler’s other foot, his now-leather dick still so sensitive, but never able to cum.

Tyler relaxed back as Chris’s transformation finished, now a pair of nice leather cowboy boots. He yawned and stood up.

“Well thank you partner. Looks like you do have what it takes to go on the road with us after all.” He let himself chuckle as he left the motel.

Chris’s mind (or what was left of it), didn’t mind. It felt so good to worship that smell, to be Tyler Owens’s boots. He didn’t miss his human life, he was right where he belonged. At the feet of the Tornado Wrangler’s musky, sweaty soles.

[cherriemi]

Forensic Experts | Chapter 1

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!FBI!reader

in: you had been transferred to the FBI headquarters to work as an assistant to the chief of department. an introduction to the FBI’s very own BAU, sparks a new friendship between you and Reid. but, how many meetings can happen before you two have feelings?

chpt sum: you meet the BAU while working on a crime scene and it seems you and Reid get along really well. you two meet a few more times until a shootout happens on the clock. Reid rushes to save you but at what cost?

wc: 2.1k

tw: chronic typing in lowercase, reader is shot, typical criminal minds stuff(murders, blood, gunshots), mostly fluff (let me know if i missed anything!!)

a/n: for most of this chapter, Reid calls you by your last name (indicated by a Y/Ln, different from Y/n!!) i wasn’t sure how else to get around it :P

you liked your old job, but when the transfer to the FBI headquarters was arranged by the department chief… you knew there was no one to stop the transfer. your apartment walls were bare, furniture donated and the lease terminated. the team threw you a goodbye party with your favorite ice cream and cake. you bawled your eyes out in front of your boss and now…

you were standing in front of your new one.

Dr. Davenport was the lead forensic analyst and chief of the department. he is mostly off the field doing paperwork and when he isn’t in his office, he is at home. Davenport was married with two children, one in college studying to be like their father and the other in 4th grade.

he liked you loads, showed you around the lab and when on the field, showed you some tips and tricks. he even let you drove the suv. as creepy and pedophilic the nickname was, it was as original Dr. Davenport was gonna get. within a few months, Davenport had shown you how to shut down the lab and how to work most of the equipment. “now that i finally have an assistant… i can rely on another person!” Davenport cheerfully said one day.

today you were on the field. according to the Davenport, this was the second body and another FBI unit was called in to help. that's why Davenport had dragged you out to this remote restaurant. the camera clicked in your hands. on these days, you normally snapped at least 1000 photos.

“Y/Ln!” Davenport called you over. you approached the group, minus Davenport there were at least 5 more people with him.

“Y/Ln, meet the Behavior Analysis Unit. Agents Hotchner, Prentiss, Morgan, Juareu, Rossi and Dr. Reid,” you gave a nod of acknowledgment to all. “agents, Y/Ln… my new assistant.” he beamed.

“glad to see the budget go to you,” Rossi smiled. Davenport chuckled. “well, i’ll let you go back to your photo taking… you creep.” you rolled your eyes, “right Davenport.”

you positioned yourself to another location. after snapping photos for a few minutes, someone approached you.

“Y/Ln correct?” you glanced behind and saw Dr. Reid, fidgeting with his fingers. you nodded, turning to face him.

“would it be alright if i looked at the photos?” Reid asked.

“sure!” you switched the camera to viewing mode and handed it off to Reid. he pressed the buttons viewing each photo, although you knew that each photo looked exactly the same.

“here.” Reid tilted the camera to show Rossi. “body was disposed like the previous victims.”

you took the camera back, analyzing the photo. “what do you see in this?” you asked.

Reid smiled and turned to Rossi, like he was non-verbally asking Rossi if he had time to answer. Rossi gave him a reassuring smile, "see how this body looks posed? hands by it side?” you nodded, “the unsub shows remorse-”

“unsub?”

“unidentified subject, it’s what we call suspects.”

you smiled, “i thought you were too young to be called doctor.” Rossi chuckled, “kid surprises me everyday.”

“i thought you were too young to be the chief department’s assistant.” he snapped back.

“ouch,” you jokingly held your arm as if he hit you, “i’m working on that doctor part.”

Reid smiled with you. at least he understood you were joking.

“i have 3-”

your eyebrows raised, “3? are you sure those are real degrees?”

“mathematics, chemistry and engineering.” you shook your head, “they should add two more doctors in front of your existing Dr. Reid to show how smart you are.”

Reid chuckled, “Dr Dr Dr. Reid is much more pleasing to the ears than Dr. Reid.”

“yes it is!” you smiled.

“hey kid,” Rossi interjected, “i’m going… you can stay, i’ll just be inside.”

“no it’s okay, i’ll be with you.” Reid replied, turning to you, “it was nice meeting you Y/Ln.”

“likewise, Dr. Reid.” he gave you a straight smile.

you were back in the lab. Dr. Jones was the forensic pathologist at the FBI headquarters. now that the case is an FBI one, Dr. Jones finally gets to work.

he called you in, slipping on his gloves and tossing you a clipboard. “help me, would you dear?”

Dr. Jones listed all the details from his autopsy, you wrote down his exact words and ticked boxes off on the checklist.

Jones and Davenport were quite a pair, they were like your work fathers. but unlike Davenport, Jones was divorced, he spent most of his time either at the lab or finishing some of Davenport’s work.

“did you catch all of that?”

you nodded, “every last bit.”

“great! let me finalize this and we can send it to the agents later.” Jones took the clipboard from you.

you returned back to your desk. Davenport shared some of his work load since he had to go teach a seminar today. you checked off all the information, all that was left was for Davenport to sign off.

“Y/n,” Jones peeked into your office, “i’m heading home…”

you looked up from your desk and saw Jones entering, “how many more files dear?”

“only 21.”

“to finish or in total?”

“to finish,” you yawned.

“you’re already so busy… finish this file and go home,” he reached out, dragging your current file out and pushing the rest away. “how’s your doctorate going?”

“it’s hard since i moved, doing online.”

Jones nodded, “i bet… me and Dav are always willing to help you.”

you smiled, “thank you.” Jones returned your smile. he knocked on your desk and left.

the stack of files started to look smaller and smaller but the time only grew later. you ignored Jones’ advice, you felt that since Davenport lent you this job, it was your duty to at least finish it. you were 3 files in before your eyes felt heavy and yawning became your breathing.

‘i’ll rest my eyes for a second.’ you told yourself as you leaned back. your eyes shut and all you felt was peace.

“Y/Ln?” the voice and knock on your door jolted you up. you adjusted your workspace to look as if you weren’t sleeping.

“i’m sorry to bug you-” it was Reid, “did you finish that autopsy report?” he asked.

you nodded, “mmhm, Jones should’ve sent it to your tech analysis? did he not?”

Reid chuckled, “i guess not- i’m sorry if it’s favor to ask-“

“noooo! it’s okay, not like i was leaving anytime soon.” you bounced from your seat and into Jones’ office. the drawers were dug through until all hope was lost. then, Reid picked up the file on his desk top.

“i think this is it Y/Ln.” Reid held the file so you could see it.

“oh… of course.” you groaned.

“thanks again Y/Ln.”

you nodded, “no problem.”

returning back to your office, you only noticed Reid hadn’t left because the front door never slammed shut. “you- you can go home.” a yawn escaped your mouth.

“can i talk you out?” you looked at Reid, confused. his eyes were on your work, “out of my office? you’d have to try really hard.”

“what is it that you are doing anyway?”

“reviewing files,” you replied as another file opened.

“i can help you-“ Reid paused for a second, “if you’d like.”

you smiled, “thanks, but it’ll take more time to explain it to you than-“

“i have 3 ph.D’s.” Reid circled around your desk, “just tell me what to do."

you took a second, “okay… try to keep up.” you explained to Reid what he had to read, what to make sure was right, was wrong, you even showed him examples. Reid caught up and took his first file… which he finished in merely 10 seconds.

you scoffed, “you didn’t even read it.” taking the file back, you spotted the mistakes he had circled in pen.

“i can read 20,000 words per minute.” your jaw dropped, “you are lying.”

“you watched me do it.”

you snickered, “okay, have at it.”

both of you only spent an hour in your office. Reid had sorted out 5 problem files. he watched as you filled in the blanks for the last file. the relief of having all your work done allowed you to finally take your. first deep breath.

“and we’re done.” you smiled, glancing at Reid. you checked your watch, “3am?”

“you would’ve been here till 7 if i didn’t help.”

you nodded, “thank you, Dr. Reid… i definitely owe you a coffee."

he smiled, “you getting this report is more than enough for me.”

“are you sure?”

“actually… you can call me Spencer.”

“Spencer…” the name lingered in your mouth, “call me Y/n, Spencer.” you smiled back at him.

“Y/n…” he paused, “promise me one thing?” you made eye contact with him, “go home tonight?”

you groaned, “you suck.” grabbing your messenger bag you lifted it over yourself. Reid waited until you left the lab before he bid you farewell.

a week has gone by since you and Reid’s private moment in office and another murder has been reported. your team was up on the ready at the crime scene. similar to the last scene, the only difference was rather than a restaurant, it was a quite diner on the edge of Virginia's metropolitan area. you had snapped a few photos of cars with gunshots in them and some blood splatters. everything seemed okay, the BAU and local PD was in the area.

then... gunshots rang around the location. the shots and voices of people telling everyone to get down rang throughout your ears.

a couple more shots echoed out, hitting metal around you. you were alone behind a parked car but saw some of your co-workers behind another vehicle. you made eye contact and they gestured you to come over. having peaked over the car, your co-workers repeated the gesture.

you came out of cover rushing over to your friend. “y/n-“ they whispered-yelled, squeezing your hand. “come on, they’re waving us over.” you nodded and caught a glimpse of a blonde woman fanning your group over to her cover.

you each went one at a time, you last.

when the agent was gesturing your turn, you peaked over and took a few steps out. but what you didn't expect was to be shot right in the shoulder.

you fell back in pain with a sharp yell. the burning sensation only followed. a few seconds later, someone had linked under your shoulders and dragged you until a shadow appeared on your right. you felt pressure on your right shoulder after.

“Y/n, it’s Reid…” the pain on your right shoulder was beyond comprehension.

“R- Reid?” your eyes were heavy but you managed to build the strength to open and look at Reid, “it hurts so- so bad.”

“i know, i know… deep breaths okay?” you followed his orders.

you closed your eyes, “no no, keep your eyes open okay?” you hummed in response.

Reid was blurred, his hair had no defined lines but his white collar button down stung your eyes because of how bright it was. you could feel your eyes losing against the bearing weight.

“Y/n. Y/n!” Reid’s voice only got more intense the more you closed your eyes, “look at me…”

you took a deep breath. “there you go… just keep looking at me.” his voice was calming to your ears, put you to sleep.

the light started to dissipate, Reid’s talking reminded you of that night he stayed to help you. the teasing of reading a file in 10 seconds.

“hey- hey! come on Y/n,” warmth grew on your left cheek, “stay with me,” light tapping followed, “for me Y/n, keep your eyes open for me.” Reid’s voice strained while the tapping increased in rhythm.

“I NEED A MEDIC!” was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

!!! CHAPTER 2 COMING SOON !!!

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 5⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 2610 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4)

STORY: after so long avoiding it, you and grayson finally talk about what happened and figure out what it all means

WARNINGS: none!!

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl @zuzanna-jadw1ga @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @jimcarreyfann42 @maybxlle @xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @ravishinglyliving - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

A/N: this took wayyyy longer than i meant it to, sorry about that. i hope you guys liked this series because it was so fun to write!! (i dont plan to continue it but who knows...)

When you woke up, you could feel the cool morning breeze making its way into your room. The birds were chirping outside, and the sun was just at the right level to where it would hit your eyes and make it hard for you to open them all the way. 

Your bed felt warmer for some reason this morning- the blanket heavier, the mattress firmer, the pillow softer. You weren’t complaining, no, it was actually a… nice change. A change from your normal routine, no matter how much you relied on it. Maybe it wasn’t really different and you were just still half asleep, or-

Wait.

You never slept with your window open. 

You shouldn’t have been able to feel the breeze. Or hear the birds. Or have that much sunlight peeking through. It wasn’t that things just felt different this morning, but this wasn’t your room.

When your eyes snapped open, they widened at the realization of who was beside you, the realization of whose arm was resting lazily across your stomach.

Grayson Davenport Hawthorne. 

Your breath caught when you saw him. Thankfully the man had put on a shirt, but he looked so unlike himself while he was asleep. 

Grayson’s usually perfectly styled hair was tousled, some light strands falling onto his forehead. His breathing was slow, steady, gentle, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. His lips were slightly parted, making a barely audible hum with each exhale. He looked younger, more boyish in this moment of relaxation.

It was a different look on him, but not necessarily a bad one.

He stirred slightly, and you were completely frozen, only watching as he rolled over from his back to his stomach, closer to you. You had no idea what had possessed you to get into a bed with Grayson Hawthorne last night, but you were now suffering the consequences. 

You tried gently to push his arm away, but Grayson was surprisingly strong in his sleep and wouldn’t let go. In fact, it only seemed to wrap around you tighter.

He was killing you right now. 

The worst part was, your mind was blanking as to how you got there. You knew that neither of you had anything to drink, so it wasn’t that. You also would’ve been able to feel it if you were hungover. 

It was probably the mind fog from having just woken up, but you still didn’t like not remembering. 

Pushing his arm off you only proved to be futile yet again. Just as you were about to get desperate and resort to calling his name, Grayson awoke. 

Well, saying he was awake was an overstatement. Grayson let out a groan and his arm tightened around you further, like he didn’t realize it was you he was holding onto. He kicked his legs out, taking up a surprisingly large amount of the bed, almost tangled up with you.

“Hmm,” he muttered, slowly opening his eyes. “I… what the-” 

Grayson’s eyes widened like yours when he saw you next to him and saw where his hand was placed. He immediately retracted the arm and as awkward as you’d found it, part of you missed its warmth. 

He cleared his throat and spoke again. “Good morning. You’re awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed. “Why am I-”

“In my bed?” Grayson interrupted. “After the pool last night, we came back up here and talked for a bit. You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, so I figured I’d let you stay.”

Oh.

Phew.

“You should've just woken me up and I could’ve gone to my room, it’s not that big of a deal,” you told him.

“You’re a peaceful sleeper. I didn’t wish to get in the way of that.”

Did he really have you blushing this early in the morning?

“Oh, thank you,” was the only response you could manage.

Grayson sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything about him looking younger and peaceful as he slept had gone away, and he was now back to his sharp eyes staring at you intensely. The eyes you could never read, the eyes that he always managed to hide so much behind.

You forced yourself to sit up too, and- oh my god you were wearing his shirt.

You hadn’t even known that Grayson owned anything besides the countless suits he always wore. And those sweatpants, apparently, from when he was drunk the other night. 

But here you were, wearing your shorts from the night before but your hoodie replaced by a soft white shirt that was far too big for you. You realized you were still wearing your swimsuit under it, but it had dried by now. 

A small noise came from his nose, just a little too loudly for it to be a normal exhale.

“What,” you groaned, sheepishly looking up to meet his eyes. “Do I really look that pathetic that I managed to make Grayson Hawthorne laugh at me?”

His corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “You don’t look pathetic. It’s just your face, you look…” he cut himself off and paused to find the right adjective. You could tell what he’d been about to say.

Please don’t say cute. For the love of all things sane, please don’t call me cute. 

“Amusing.”

Somehow, that was worse. 

You sighed and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The night before was starting to come back to you: 

After the kiss, the two of you had stayed out there and talked for a good while. You got out of the pool, put your regular clothes back on over your swimsuit. Then Grayson offered to go up to his room. You accepted the offer, and when you got up there he’d offered you one of his shirts because your hoodie had gotten wet. He then put on a shirt himself, and you simply sat on his bed and talked.

And apparently you’d fallen asleep in the same bed.

Grayson cleared his throat. “You’re thinking.”

“Yes I am.” You didn’t even bother being surprised that he could read you so easily because of course he could. 

“Is it selfish of me to guess that you’re thinking about last night?” 

“I don’t know about selfish, but it certainly wouldn’t be incorrect.” 

A beat of silence. 

You felt out of place there, sitting on the bed next to him, probably looking like a mess. But the way he looked at you during that silence proved that he wasn’t necessarily upset about your unbrushed hair or half-awake eyes or the way the sleeves of his shirt on you nearly went down to your forearms. 

“I meant everything I said,” he finally spoke. “I hope you know that.”

Oh, now he was willing to bring up the elephant in the room? Last time it had taken him a week. Though you supposed it was harder to avoid when you’d both woken up in his bed. 

“Even when you were drunk?” You asked.

His voice was surprisingly soft. “Even when I was drunk.”

Another silence. There seemed to be a lot of them that morning. And in that silence, you let the reality of what had happened settle in:

You kissed Grayson Hawthorne last night. 

Twice.

And all either of you had to say about it was some awkward banter. 

But you didn’t know what else to say. What was a kiss to someone like Grayson? Was it just a meaningless action to him? Could he just kiss someone and forget? Or was it the opposite, you’d kissed and now there was no moving on? You assumed- you hoped for the latter, and knowing him it was most likely, but you couldn’t be sure. 

He was Grayson Hawthorne, after all. Who knew how many girls wanted to kiss him. Not that he ever let them, but you wouldn’t think it strange of him to find a kiss to be worth nothing.

So you figured you just had to ask.

“What are we, Grayson?”

To your surprise, he smiled softly. 

“That depends,” he told you. “What would you like us to be?”

~~

Avery had sent you a voicemail at eleven the night before. She’d also texted you countless times ever since then, well into the morning.

By the time you left Grayson’s room, it was nine.

Your hoodie hadn’t dried overnight, so he’d let you keep his shirt. You’d tied it up to try to make it fit at least a little, but it was still far too large. And it smelled like him- that didn’t help.

You pressed play on Avery’s voicemail.

“Hello? Are you- oh, it’s a voicemail. Okay, uh, well, call me back when you can. You said you’d let me know what happens with you and Grayson. I mean since you haven’t come back yet I can assume it went well? I hope so, maybe since it’s late you guys-” She paused. “Nevermind, I don’t want to think about what you’re doing. Call me. Bye.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. What on earth did she think you were doing? But you couldn’t blame her, because you’d initially had the same thought when you woke up next to him that morning. 

Avery answered your call back almost immediately. 

“Hello?” Her voice said through the phone.

“Hey, I’m alive.”

There was a high noise from the other end, but you couldn’t quite make it out. 

“Finally! I thought you drowned in the pool or something. You wanna tell what happened? It’s been, like, twelve hours.”

Damn, she was right. You’d gone to the pool at eight last night, and it was now nine in the morning. You spent most of those hours alone with Grayson, your mind decided to remind you. You had to push the thought out of your head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you,” you said. “In person, though. Where are you?”

“We’re in the back, by the pool. Thought it would be funny to wait for you here.”

You frowned. “Who is we-”

“Max,” she explained. There was another sound from beside her. “She says to get the fox over here, beach.”

~~

Talking to Max and Avery didn’t prove to be productive, but it had been fun. Long story short, Max thought the idea of drunk Grayson was hilarious and Avery fully thought you were joking when you told her you’d kissed.

That only offended you a little.

But the talk by the pool didn’t last too long. Eventually, you made your way back inside. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts for longer. You still didn’t completely know how you felt about the whole situation, despite discussing it with your two closest friends. 

You realized it was almost ten o’clock and you still hadn’t had breakfast, so you went to the kitchen. As you got there, you couldn’t help but think back to when Grayson had come in, hungover yet looking completely put-together. When he’d reached into the refrigerator and grabbed cherries for some reason. 

You laughed quietly at the memory. 

“What’s so funny, hm?”

Your head snapped back and you were met once again with Grayson Hawthorne. And once again he was in a suit, his hair fixed, looking perfect. 

He had a talent for putting himself together.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I’m just thinking.”

Grayson walked over to you and nodded. “You do that a lot.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to think about.”

“Care to share?”

Having a conversation with Grayson Davenport Hawthorne was always difficult. Not because of the way he spoke, no, but rather because of the way he looked. 

How were you supposed to focus with those silver-gray eyes looking down at you, with the way the corners wrinkled with each poorly hidden smile? How were you supposed to stand up straight when every time his fingers even brushed your skin you melted into his touch?

How were you supposed to exist when he did too?

Oh, right, he asked a question. 

“I’m thinking about what you said,” you told him honestly. There was no point in trying to hide your feelings from him now. 

“And remind me,” he said, moving even closer. “What did I say?”

“That you meant everything you said, even when you were drunk.”

He nodded along, but he was clearly focused more on you rather than what you were saying.

“You said you wanted my face.” You said slowly. “I know you were drunk and it was just a stupid comment, but-”

He stopped with a finger to your mouth. “We went over this the morning after, no?” Grayson’s hand moved from covering your mouth to cup your face again and it took everything you had not to lean further into it. “I would be honored to have your face.” 

Even if the words were stupid, the meaning behind them was so much stronger. 

When he leaned in to whisper in your ear you nearly fainted. 

“May I?”

You didn’t answer, but you let your arms wrap themselves around his hips as he leaned down to meet your lips with his and-

“Jeez you guys, get a room!” Grayson stood up straight at the new voice, but your hands stayed on each other. “This is like the third time this week I’ve walked in on you two kissing out in the open. Other people live here you kno-”

Xander, who had entered the kitchen and complained about your affection, completely froze when he saw you.

“You’re not Avery.” He then pointed to his brother. “You’re not Jameson.”

Grayson cleared his throat. “Xander-”

Xander gasped. “Wait, are you two, like, a thing? Like, dating? Like, kissy kissy cuddle cuddle muah muah?” 

“Xander-”

“Oh my… I knew it! I mean, I didn’t want to make any assumptions, but the two of you have been acting pretty weird for a bit now and I thought-”

“Xander-”

“-hold on. Nash owes me so much money now.”

“Xander-”

“What Gray? Of course we have a bet going. I guess my optimism is finally paying off! I was right, you are getting together! This is the best news of my life-”

“Alexander.”

Xander finally stopped rambling and looked at his brother. Grayson was absolutely glaring at him, the kind of look that spoke volumes. And coming from him, it was even louder.

“Damn,” Xander said, shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were such a party pooper. Actually, who am I kidding, I’ve known that forever.” He shrugged. “Just… keep kissing or whatever. Good job. Er, uh, I mean-”

“Just go away, Xander.”

“Yes sir. I’m gone.”

Once the footsteps were too far to be heard, Grayson let out a sigh of relief. 

You burst out laughing. Grayson only stared at you with a blank expression, like he was waiting for you to stop, which only made you laugh harder. 

When you’d finally caught your breath, he let his hand find your face again, this time tangling itself in your hair. “My brother seems to think we’re dating.”

You didn’t try to hide the blush that covered your entire face. “And how do you feel about that, Grayson?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t be upset if his assumption turned out to be true.”

Silence somehow fell upon the two of you again, but this time it was different. Not unsure, not nervous, not awkward. This time, it was a comfortable silence. A silence in which you looked into his eyes. A silence in which you could finally read one of the emotions hiding behind them: 

Love.

“Grayson?”

“Yes?”

“I think I figured out what I want us to be.”

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[arias-archive]

can u write a one bed scene between Grayson and Lyra which takes place right after the scene where they kiss in tgg

a/n: Hiiii! Yes ofc! I’m so SO SO sorry it took so long but I wanted to make sure I got this as perfect as I could for all the anticipation it built :) (there was also another anon who asked for a graysonlyra fic so I hope this is okay!). I really hope I didn’t let anyone down and once again, thank u for waiting and supporting <3

this is set right after the graysonlyra kiss in tgg!

warnings: swearing, panic attck, kissing, slight tgg spoilers?

description: 12 hours until the next game and what a coincidence the asshole got locked out of his room

tig masterlist | masterlist

catch me if you can (a graysonlyra fic)

Lyra thought about the danger of touch. She thought about all the reasons she had not to do this. But as Grayson lowered his lips, Lyra rose up on her toes, tilted her head backward, moving like a dancer, needing this—and him.

Her long-held memory of that kiss gave way to this kiss. And this kiss was everything.

His tongue coaxed her lips to part, slipping inside, sinfully exploring every inch, ravishing her in a way she never had been before.

He wasn’t a gentle kisser, but he wasn’t rough either. This kiss was greedy and passionate and everything she needed. Her lips tingled with the memory of their first kiss, but that was practically a peck compared to this.

She knew this was foolish, kissing Grayson Davenport Hawthorne when she had every reason to hate him. She wanted to forget about that for a moment, letting the kiss deepen while her thoughts ebbed away- with nothing but him plaguing her mind.

As she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, she really didn’t want to stop. She felt like she was burning from the inside out and all she wanted was to burn with him.

They stood there, desperately fused together with the burning orange sunrise illuminating them. He held onto her waist, her chest pressed up against his in a way that made her want to get impossibly closer. He pulled away for a breath and her mouth instinctively followed him, pressing against his lips again.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, fused to each other but it was her who pulled away first, face flushed and breathless. But It was the sound of a couple of breaking branches that jolted her out of her fantasy.

She was still standing in the frame of his arms when they pulled apart, his fingers digging into the smallest part of her waist as if she could vanish at any moment. She whipped her head around, brown locks whipping her face as she searched for what could’ve possibly disturbed them. She saw nothing though.

Nothing except the charred ruins of the great mansion that one stood here, a skeletal frame bordering them. Nothing except the burnt remains of the papers containing her father's names scattering the ground.

She was surrounded by papers bearing her father’s name, someone had given her a ticket and it wasn’t the Hawthorne’s and Odette-

The realisation of what she’d been trying to actively avoid slammed into her like a truck.

And then the kiss just felt wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her lips burned with the intensity of it all, desperate to fall back into him but she couldn’t. She felt sick. She jumped back. Still high on the adrenaline from that kiss, she turned and ran.

Okay, maybe worse than just ran. She practically sprinted from the ruins, running towards the House, leaving the silver-eyed boy alone in the trees.

She heard him shout her name, she heard him sprint after her but she still ran. She was still reeling from everything that had taken place from last night to now. She was in shock that she ran away from the kiss without saying anything to him. What the hell was wrong with her?

She ran until everything hurt, and she was gasping for air. And then she ran some more. Her feet pounded against the dirt in time with her racing heart. But running was all she knew how to do at the moment. She needed to get away, from everything. She needed to think. To process everything and what would happen next.

She shouldn’t have kissed Grayson to push away those thoughts. And she shouldn’t have ran away after that. That was stupid. She didn’t want to use Grayson like that. Her heart ached at the thought of the asshole becoming a distraction for her. Something to use to solve the mystery of her father.

She might admit she cared about Grayson Davenport Hawthorne.

She was still dressed in her beautiful masquerade ball dress, the frothy waves of her skirt swishing around her as she kicked up stones and twigs and leaves in her wake. These were the wrong shoes to run in, she thought, as she felt her feet throbbing painfully.

She was so close to the House, just had to push past the overwhelming desire to stop and breath, when she felt strong arms wrap around her, her feet dangling off the ground.

“What the fuck?’ She exploded incredulously, glaring down at the freaking asshole who was holding her captive. She thrashed her body against his hold like a fish out of water. She already felt exhausted from sprinting all that way, and she really needed a drink of water but she couldn’t stop wriggling in his hold. Who did he think he was?

“Why did you run?” Grayson huffed, grappling for calm. He had a vice-like grip around her body and she couldn’t help but be reminded of the chandelier task, her body arcing into his instinctively-

Nope. She wasn’t going there right now.

She stared at him in disbelief, tightening the unsteady grip she had around his shoulders to balance herself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?”

“You’re the one who ran after we kissed!” He defended astutely, “Did I do something-”

“Put me down,” she interrupted him sharply, aiming a swift kick towards whatever body part she could reach with her beautiful ballet flats.

He lowered her down gently, before she could actually connect her foot with its intended target, letting her stumble back a few steps. He stood there, waiting for an answer to his question. He didn’t repeat it though, just let her answer when she was ready.

She bent over double, hands on her knees as she grappled for air and trying to make sense of her own emotions.

He didn’t do anything wrong. She really liked that kiss and she really did want his help in finding out the truth about her father. But it was his family, his grandmother, that had something to do with this. She couldn’t do this, she just couldn’t.

“No, you didn’t do anything,” Lyra finally replied, her gaze baring into the ground. She couldn’t bring herself to look into his stony eyes. Afraid the see the judgement there.

“Then why did you run, Lyra?” His tone was calm, like he already knew everything but was waiting for confirmation. She hated that he always sounded so self-assured. She hated that she was so uncertain again.

Like she was remembering that birthday all over again.

Her entire world had been thrown off-kilter again, sending her mind battling for possibilities to make sense of this twisted joke. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quietly, eyes stuck to the ground in embarrassment. “This isn’t about the kiss. I just needed to think-“ She paused, unsure of how to explain why she actually ran when she wasn’t sure herself.

“If this is about your father,” Grayson said with unshakeable promise, “I vow I will help you find out what happened, Lyra. You have my word.”

Even just the mention of her father from somebody else’s mouth stung like acid. She nodded, her eyes still glued to the dirt floor as she straightened herself up.

Her unease still clung to her, her father’s names rattling around her head like gunfire. The coppery tang of gunpowder and blood coated her senses, preventing her from sucking in air.

Her vision blurred, her ears ringing like the aftermath of gunfire. She thought the situation could’ve gotten better now that she had the help of Grayson. She had someone on her team.

But she’d lived so long being the only person on her team that she couldn’t rely on someone else to help her. She didn’t know how.

Her sense of vision and hearing were impaired, her sense of smell clogged up by blood. But she hadn’t lost her control on touch. She leant into Grayson, digging her face into his shoulder.

His arms wrapped around her back and the back of her knees, lifting her up softly. She couldn’t hear the reassurances he was murmuring into her ear, but she could feel his comforting presence around her- reminding her that he was on her team from the start. Even though she didn’t want it.

She must’ve spaced out because next thing she knew, she was in her temporary room, fingers digging into the sheets beneath her, sobbing into Grayson Hawthorne.

Her sobs were ugly, ragged and breathless. She was just mumbling incoherent nonsense until Grayson shushed her.

He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her and Lyra’s temper flared. Why did he think he could just silence her?

Her furious gaze snapped to his, glaring into the endless abyss of gray. His lips twitched as if he knew that would get her attention. That just made her angrier.

“You will stay here with me,” he murmured, her brain remembering the words from the panic attack she had earlier on. When he had first seen her vulnerable. “Right here. Right now, Lyra.”

She liked the way he said her name. The way it rolled off his tongue with precision and charm and surety. The way the syllables bounced off his tongue, as if he savoured the very words.

She focused on that, on him, on where she was. Here and now

“When I was 13,” he started, his gaze locked onto her panicked eyes, a calmness that she didn’t possess right now. “My brothers hid glitter on top of my bathroom fan, then proceeded to cover the entire bathroom in glue.”

She snorted, lips twitching in amusing at the thought of a clueless Grayson wandering inside her bathroom and being met with a sparkly surprise.

He lifted her palm to his chest, pressing it against his steadily beating heart. It was calm and orderly, just like Grayson. So she tried to match her breathing to its pace, syncing up the him.

“I turned on the fan,” he continued, rubbing his warm hands against her arms, grounding here to the here and now. “Obviously glitter exploded everywhere and stuck to everything.” He still sounded so bitter about it that she actually burst out laughing, in midst of her tears.

Grayson’s lips tilted upwards after listening to her laugh, unable to stop the quiet chuckles eliciting from his own mouth. Lyra focused in on his lips, they were fuller than they should be, and sinfully beautiful. The memory of his lips pressed against hers tingled painfully, aching for more.

Grayson tried his best to control his amusement as he schooled his features back into a bored expression. “That isn’t funny,” he huffed with an eye roll. “There’s still glitter in my bathroom.” 

She shook her head, her breaths slowing down, matching with his own calming pace. She pulled away from him, turning her face away as she dried her wet face. She was slightly embarrassed now. 

But before she could ever let that embarrassment fester, his fingers found the bottom of her chin, tilting it up towards his face. “Don’t do that,” he murmured with a small shake of his head. “I’m on your team, Lyra.”

“Do what?” She asked after she cleared her itchy throat, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“Put those walls back up.” There it was again. The way he said her name. Like it was a prayer, whispered over and over again. She liked hearing her name come out his mouth.  

She managed to drag her gaze away, eyeing the barely furnished room. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and just sleep for a bit, but she couldn’t. Not until she properly apologised.

She wasn’t good at apologising though. Especially not to assholes like him. The words caught in her throat, refusing to push past her lips. 

So she changed the subject with a breezy tone. “I liked the first story you told me,” she considered with a small scrunch of her nose. “The one about the cello and the kitten and the long sword.”

“And a crossbow,” he added. His hands never left her arms, soothing her even if she didn’t want to talk about it yet. 

“You have to tell me how that happened-“

“I will not.” He replied firmly. 

“Oh come on,”

They bickered and chatted for ages, Lyra slumped against Grayson’s shoulder as he just chatted on about whatever she wanted to hear next. His voice was grounding. It pushed away the sticky blood and the metallic tang of gunpowder and the burnt remains of those notes. 

Eventually, Grayson stood up, pulling two keys out of his pocket. “I should leave now,” he said, dusting imaginary dust off his vintage suit, tugging at the sleeves.

He handed one key to her, her own room key which he must’ve taken from the trays back downstairs. She held it firmly, letting the cool metal of the intricate designs press patterns into her skin. 

She wouldn’t beg him to stay, despite her wishes. It wasn’t in her nature to plead. She was fine now, better than fine. She was ready.

She nodded at his words, opening her mouth to apologise before he left but the words stuck to the roof of her mouth, heavy and weighted. He waited for her to speak but she couldn’t. She waved him off with a small smile, flopping back onto the bed. 

He turned to leave, casting one last glance at the dark haired girl before gently shutting the door behind him. She strained her ears to listen to his retreating footsteps until they faded completely.

She didn’t know how long she lay on the bed, simply staring at the ceiling contemplating everything until she heard a firm knock at her room. 

She furrowed her dark brows, sitting up with a yawn, hair cascading down her back. She needed sleep desperately.

“Who is it?” She called, stifling her yawn with her hand. 

“Grayson,” the smooth voice replied back, so quiet yet so loud all at once. “Can I come in?”

She nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see her so she called out, “Yeah. Is everything okay?”

The door was pushed open as Grayson re-entered the room, walking with authority and power wherever he went. He shut the door behind her, arms crossed over his chest. 

She raised a questioning brow, signalling for him to talk about why he was here. 

He cleared his throat before speaking. “It appears that our lovely game makers have locked me out of my room,” he said coolly, his jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Oh,” Lyra replied with pursed lips, biting the inside of her cheek. Only now did she notice he was keyless. 

She didn’t know what to say to him just standing there, basically asking for help even if he would never outright demand it. His way of relinquishing some control, she supposed. Dare she say even trust her a bit?

He had helped her, throughout the whole night and going forward. Hell, she was sobbing in his arms not too long ago. So before she could even stop the words from coming out her mouth, she said, “You can stay in here,” before hastily adding, “if you want.”

He assessed her and then the room, nodding once. “Only if you are sure.” His voice was monotone, but she felt the undertone of hesitation there too. It was almost comical to her.

She looked around the room, taking in the sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t a chair, or a couch, or even a rug for him to sit down on.

Only the bed. Where she too was planning to lay. But she couldn’t tell him to get out now. Not after kindly offering her room up. 

So she wordlessly shuffled to one side of the luxurious bed, pulling off her ballet flats and disposing them beside the bed. She lay down, still clad in her beautiful ball gown, waiting for him to do the same.

He paused, as if waiting for something. A moment later,, he bent down to take off his own shoes and lined them up neatly at the foot of the bed. He robotically lay down on the other side of the bed, facing the ceiling, stiff as a board. As if he were laying on a bed of nails.

She rolled her eyes and couldn’t resist teasing him. He looked like a grumpy cat. “Everything okay, Hawthorne?”

“Splendid,” came his bored reply, his eyes meticulously tracing the ceiling. 

“You look like you’re going to fall off the bed,” she stated, propping herself up into an elbow, nudging his shoulder with her other hand. “Move closer.”

He was quiet for so long Lyra wasn’t even sure he was going to reply but then he moved. Only slightly. The barest centimetre. 

Lyra rolled her eyes again, poking his shoulder harder. “Never slept in a bed with someone before?” 

His scowl only intensified, only adding to her own enjoyment. But he moved closer, albeit only slightly. She kept up her taunting and teasing until he was only a few inches away from her own position on the bed.

She lay back down properly, rolling over her other side to get comfy. Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion and she was eager for sleep to take her. 

Just as she was about to drift off, she felt an arm drape over her midsection, clutching her closer to the warm chest pressed against her back. Her cheeks heated at the proximity. She could feel his heart racing, even through the layers. 

She stayed like a statue at first, unsure of what to do or how to react. But she meant what she thought earlier. She did like Grayson. And she wanted someone on her team. To be in her corner. 

So before she lost the nerve, she flipped around in his embrace and pressed a long, hard kiss to his lips, her tongue coaxing entrance to his mouth. 

Sparks ignited from the contact, their bodies creating an unholy inferno daring to be burned out. He pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss fully. 

Her fingers threaded through his blonde locks as his caressed her face, thumb rubbing her cheek softly. 

This kiss wasn’t like the first, or even second kiss. This one was better. As if they had never kissed before yet had kissed a hundred times before.

 It felt like two people dancing, moving simultaneously to the music only they could hear. It felt like a battle, each treading more deeper into greed.

This time it was her who pulled away for air first, his mouth following hers only to be stopped by her finger held against his lips, effectively stopping him.

She could see the protest flash through his eyes so she forced the words out her lips. So she could properly apologise, not the half-hearted explanation she gave earlier.

“I’m sorry for running, Grayson,” she whispered softly, her lips dewy with saliva. Her eyes bore into his eyes with sincerity, using her other hand to push hair away from his face. “It wasn’t about the kiss at all-“

He pushed her finger down impatiently, cutting off her apology with another kiss before pulling away. “You run, I run, Lyra.” 

She grinned, wrapping an arm around his body as she let her eyes flutter shut. And for the first time in a very long while, she had felt safer than she had ever felt.

“Catch me if you can, asshole.”

[agaypanic]

I saw that you were interested in lab rats requests, and I'm obsessed with that show and have like a billion thoughts in my head so can i request a chase davenport x reader, where the reader is perry's niece and shes kind of a grey character. Like she's mean to everyone who deserves it, especially those who are mean to Chase, which is honestly a lot of people. Similar to Jade from victorious but less intense lol. One day she just goes off and Chase is just so into it.

Chase Davenport With Principal Perry's Niece Headcanons

Masterlist

Request Something!

A/N: fun fact, i know jade from clips on tiktok, but ive actually never really seen victorious aside from one episode that my ex made me watch years ago that i barely paid attention to lol

***

He’s a bit scared of you at first

He thinks you’ll be like your aunt, who’s a bit of a nightmare

But he’s quickly proven wrong when you’re left alone

“You! Dorky twerp!” Principal Perry pointed at Chase and his siblings, and they all looked at her confused.

“Think that means you, bud,” Adam said, pushing Chase towards the woman before running off, Bree and Leo hot on his heels. Chase hesitantly closed the distance between him and Perry.

“Yes, Principal Perry?”

“Meet my niece, Y/n.” It was then that he noticed you, standing beside your aunt. You wore a bored expression. “She’s new here, moved in with me because her parents are fighting for custody, and the judge thinks they’re both incompetent.”

“Aunt Terry…” You groaned, wishing she didn’t always feel the need to share such personal and unnecessary information.

“Anyways, I want you to show her to her classes.” Perry leaned in close to Chase, glaring at him. “Make a move on her, and you’re dead meat, Daven-dork.”

You and Chase watched her walk away, somewhat mortified. Then you looked at each other in an awkward silence. You were the first to speak.

“Sorry about her…” You laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. “What’s your name?”

“Chase.” He responded, a bit taken aback. If he was being honest, he thought that there was something in Perry’s DNA that made her the crabby, mean woman she was. So it would’ve made sense if everyone related to her was similar. “Chase Davenport.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile, holding your hand out for him to shake. He smiled back as he shook your hand. 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly become inseparable, much to your aunt’s chagrin

You’re a lot nicer than her, which surprises everyone

But that doesn’t mean you’re never mean

Luckily, it’s only to people who deserve it

Trent was quick to become a pain in your ass. Not directly to you; he was too scared of Perry’s wrath. But the way he treated Chase and his siblings pissed you off. Chase told you not to worry about it, that he was used to it, but you weren’t having it.

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean you should be, Chase.” You say as he told you for the tenth time today to forget about Trent and his behavior.

“Aw, it’s cute that you care,” Chase said, laughing when you jokingly pushed him and told him to be quiet. But then he got pushed again, only this time much rougher.

“This kid bothering you, Y/n?” Trent asked with a flirty grin, getting close. You rolled your eyes, pushing past him to get back to Chase.

“No, but someone else is.” You say with a deadpan tone, staring intensely at Trent. He looked around the hall.

“Who?”

“Jesus.” You muttered, you and Chase snickering to each other as you walked away.

Sometimes, your anger gets the best of you

Like when Chase’s bullies start to get a bit physical

You fight back more than he does

After what felt like forever, you got out of your last class of the day and went to the main hall to wait for Chase. He was often waiting for you by his locker, ready to walk you home.

But today, he wasn’t the only person at his locker. A few guys from the football team surrounded him, pushing him whenever he tried to move away.

“Fellas, come on.” He laughed nervously. 

“Shut up, nerd!”

“Hey!” You shouted from across the hall, effectively grabbing all of the boys’ attention. You stomped over to them. “Leave him alone.”

The jocks all turned to surround you, looking amused.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” One of them asked, leaning close to you. “You know, I’m not afraid to hit a girl.”

“I’m not either.” You responded before stomping on his foot and punching him in the stomach. He yelped in pain, and his friends backed away. You grabbed the boy by the ear, making him wince. “Considering football is probably the only thing you and your friends are good at, I suggest you apologize and get the hell out of here. Unless you wanna try to play with some broken fingers?”

The jock immediately shook his head, the others doing the same.

“I’m sorry.” He squeaked.

“I’m not the one you should be saying that to.” You let go of his ear and pushed him towards Chase. Chase stepped aside, watching the football player run into the lockers from the force of your shoving. 

“Sorry…” He said to Chase before looking at his friends and running away with them. The apology didn’t seem too genuine, sounding more scared than anything else. But it was a start.

“You okay?” You asked, looking Chase up and down for any possible damage. He stared at you in slight shock, slowly nodding. You smiled and held your hand out. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Chase swiftly grabbed your hand, walking out of the school with you.

“That was hot.” The short but serious sentence made you laugh.

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

the future. ( chase davenport x reader )

After discovering that the last time she entrusted the bionic siblings to watch Naomi, she had been turned into a teenager, Tasha was wary when she left with Donald for their date, but when you arrived just as they were leaving, she was immediately relieved seeing how doting you were when you babysat for them on date nights - she could count on you to ensure there would be no accidents.

Donald shook his head when Tasha grabbed your arms, pleading with you to avoid another disaster and you patted her hand, sending her a smile. "Don't worry," You assured her. "I won't let her out of my sight."

"Hey, I fixed it!" Chase spoke up in his defense.

You hushed him, sending Tasha and Donald one last smile before they left. You approached Naomi who was squirming in Bree's arms, repeating the first syllable of your name. You smiled at the toddler, as Bree happily handed her over.

"We felt horrible about it."

"If only Chasey-Wasey didn't leave his gizmos lying around, huh?" You smiled when Naomi giggled, clapping her hands.

He held his hand up, "If I promise to lock them away, does Chasey-Wasey get a kissy wissy?"

Bree made a retching noise as she walked out and you giggled, holding out your arm, making Chase grin as he walked over, placing a hand on your back as he greeted you with a kiss.

"She still hates the baby talk?"

Chase nodded with a smile. "Want to follow her around?"

"I haven't seen my boyfriend for almost a week, I think I'd like to -"

"Canoodle?"

You covered Noami's ears, raising an eyebrow at him.

"There is no way she understood that."

"Canoodle!"

Chase raised an eyebrow in surprise before meeting your knowing gaze, eyes wide, realizing if Naomi repeated the word to Tasha or Donald, they would no doubt speak to you both, "Movie?"

"Good idea." You smiled, following him to the living room.

Throughout the movie Naomi played with toys and when she proudly showed you her stuffed elephant you mirrored her excitement. When she grew tired halfway through the movie, she snuggled into you, and you placed a blanket around her, smiling as she fell asleep.

You felt Chase's stare as it was common for him to observe your interactions with Naomi and you combed a strand of hair away from her forehead, a smile on your lips as you said, "You better not be thinking what I think you are thinking. And if you are thinking it, you better be thinking of waiting a little while longer."

You turned your head, glancing at his lips that formed an entranced smile, his arm tightening around your shoulders as he brought you closer to his chest.

"How long?"

You rested your head on his shoulder, humming thoughtfully, a giggle leaving your lips when he leaned in, closing your eyes when your lips met, placing a hand on his cheek.

A few moments later you pulled away when a voice whisper-shouted, "Hey!"

You both looked at the doorway to find Bree pointing at you, "You're supposed to be watching the baby. Not making one."

You buried your head in Chase's chest as he chuckled. You lifted your head when she left the room and turned to look at Naomi who slept peacefully.

"A little while longer." You whispered, a smile forming on your lips as you admired the beautiful toddler.

Chase met your gaze when you turned your head to look at him, a smile on his lips, as he slowly nodded his head. "I can do that."

He tilted your chin up, kissing you tenderly before you both turned your attention back to the movie. When you graduated, you didn't have a clear picture of what your future looked like - all you knew then was that Chase would be in it. But as you got older, you knew what you wanted, and when Naomi was born, that image grew clearer and clearer. And as you rested your head on his chest, his lips grazing your head, pressing against your hair, you knew it would soon become a reality.

[lyrakanefanatic]

OKAY SO I KNOW WE ALL WANT LYRA TO CALL GRAYSON “MR. HAWTHORNE”, “HAWTHORNE”, OR “HAWTHORNE BOY”, (basically anything with his last name LMAO) but i’d like to introduce something else…

LYRA KANE CALLING HIM DAVENPORT!!!

like we’ve never had a love interest call any of the hawthornes by their middle name, and they all have such cool middle names!

like maybe she calls him davenport in a flirty way, but calls him hawthorne when she’s making fun of him/just talking to him professionally (rubbing it in his face that he’s a hawthorne iykwim i can’t explain it that well 😪)

LIKE IMAGINE A SITUATION:

grayson asks her to dance late in the game, saying smth like, “ms. kane, how would you like to dance?”

she replies with a haughty retort, like “you know im not a dancer, hawthorne”

then he smirks and is all like “or maybe it’s just that you’re terrible at it”

she leans in closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear, saying “oh, you wish, davenport”

then she walks off and grayson is left as a confused flustered pile of suits and trauma! 😊😆

[genderkoolaid]

On April 27, 2023, an armed security guard shot and killed a Black trans man named Banko Brown outside of a San Francisco Walgreens. Brown’s killing sparked outrage. But San Francisco District Attorney Brooke Jenkins decided not to charge the security guard who shot him, saying that he acted in self-defense. And just last Friday, Attorney General Rob Bonta’s office announced that it supported that decision.  This announcement has crushed Banko Brown’s loved ones, including those who say that his killing was an example of the conditions that unhoused transgender people face in San Francisco. KQED reporter Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez sits down with Brown’s chosen family, to discuss life as a homeless queer person in San Francisco, and Banko’s life before his death. [...]

Kazani Kalani Finao: [...] We just had amazing, great conversations. Just always sparring with each other, bouncing back with, like, fun ideas. He uses a bright, outgoing apartment. Conversation was always immaculate, always amazing. Of he was a visionary. The struggle not only brought us together, but like I was able to, like, really build a relation with him based on, like, his gifts. He was very creative, his swag, his drip, like he was a trendsetter to me. He’s definitely inspirational to me to like, you know, him, me younger to me, like I always share with him. Like, bro, you give me so much confidence, you give me so much courage for me to be me. He didn’t even know it. But again, he was just natural at that. Whatever I remember of him is his drips, sauce, smile, hugs, goofiness. [...]

Xavier Davenport: Banko never had a space of his own. Banko had been in and out of shelter, in and out of people’s homes, sometimes even some people’s own [SROs]. So let’s really break down what that really looks like when you are living in a one room space with another individual. You do not have privacy. Nine times out of ten, being a transmasculine identif[ied] person, especially being black, you have to render some type of services to stay there, whether it be sexual, whether it be drugs. So when we talk about black men and being fetishized, Banko dealt with a lot of that. And so those people would be the people to take him in. [...]

Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: And can we talk a little bit about Banko in terms of the safety? You know, obviously Banko went through the least safe thing you could imagine with the most terrible outcome you can imagine. What was Banko experiencing in terms of safety during this whole process? Xavier Davenport: Banko was actually experiencing a lot of issues with violence happening in some of the places that he was trying to stay at. Nobody’s perfect, you know, especially when we’re talking about community, right? People have all kinds of issues and trauma that they are that they’re trying to live through as well. I definitely know that there were a few times where, you know, he was upset from violent experiences that had taken place. And what we all do, right, we get upset, we want to do something about it. So, you know, really trying to calm him down to, like, see a different side of it, for him to just move through the trauma that he was experiencing. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: Yeah. And I don’t know how much you all followed kind of the public discussion of what happened to Banko afterwards. A lot of what I heard was a kind of a questioning of like, what did [Banko]’s trans identity or black trans identity have to do with the shooting, especially when the security guard themselves was was black. I wonder if you could talk a bit about for people who don’t understand what does [Banko]’s black trans identity have to do with what brought him there that day and what happened? [...] Xavier Davenport: [...] What what that all has to do with is when you are a young, black, transmasculine identified person, people see that he walks in, he’s dark skinned, he has a hat on a t shirt, he has a little bit of a, like a goatee or, you know, something growing in. And as another black man or being another man, there is a fight for power for who is the man. [F]or Banko, you know, the thought process is, you look like a little boy or you’re trying to pretend to be a little boy. Because let’s be clear, Banko had not had, you know, top surgery. He had not been going through that part of of medical transitioning. So you have a masculine person with visible breast coming at you. You are going to now struggle for your manhood. I’m going to show you who’s boss is something that for people that are even lesbians who are more masculine looking, [t]here is a struggle between men and any form of masculinity that they can see to them isn’t necessarily real. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: So it’s a it’s like a challenge. Xavier Davenport: It is a challenge. It very much is a challenge. I know this first experience. I have dealt with this my entire life. JuJu Pikes-Prince: And if I can just highlight that it’s true. And these are cases that’s not getting covered [...] of Black Trans Men getting killed. [...]

Xavier Davenport: [...] I would say what needs to change is the systems in how they construct homelessness. There needs to be shelters specific for transmasculine folks. There needs to be shelters for trans people, period. But trans men need their own space. There needs to be more black, trans masculine leaders. There’s nobody else that can speak about black transness except for black trans people. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: And how about the joy? What is your joy look like right now? Xavier Davenport: My joy looks like, you know, the rest of the work that I do. The Bay Area Transmasculine calendar is doing a second premiere of a calendar that we started last year with a group of Transmasculine folks to continue to ensure that Transmasculine folks are seen and can receive joy in seeing and having representation of themselves in all bodies, in all forms of trans masculine bodies, and in all forms of trans masculine and different cultures and ethnicities. Joe Fitzgerald Rodriguez: That’s beautiful. JuJu Pikes-Prince: [F]iguring out the funding, figuring out where money can go to. I definitely believe that there should be more programs for black trans men, even from our community. My [femme queens, my dolls]. We need to serve our [kings], our [trans kings.] [Sorry], I’m getting emotional. And it’s because I’m thinking about the joy part. [L]iving and finding purpose. Picking up someone else’s purpose when they couldn’t find their purpose. And knowing that I’m here and I can also at least set some type of story for someone [...] and hopefully help another next person, next generation to continue to do this advocacy work.

[cassiachales]

Journal Entry Five [And Grayson Hawthorne's Very Scandalous Self]

note: i am honestly so sorry for forgetting about this fic and everything T-T. i did have some personal issues, and family troubles, but it's all well now, so expect much better updates in the future! one last part after this!!! also, content warning: a tiny bit of smut taglist: @f4iry-bell, @never-enough-novels, @reminiscentreader, @dahliawarner, @lanterns-and-daydreams,

@welcometomyblog

Sunday– I’ve begun to contemplate on what we are. I mean, you don’t kiss someone just for fun, do you? There’s got to be some feeling in there, because damn it, that kiss was everything I could ever want in a kiss. Slow and rough and honestly? I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After that kiss, you didn’t get the whiskey.

You couldn’t have been expected to, obviously. A hot guy kissed you, and you didn’t really comprehend it until you went home (which was quite literally immediately after–you don’t think you ever saw Xander that confused).

It’s a day after, and you’re writing like your life depends on it. You need to get that kiss off of your mind, but for some reason, you can’t.

Pathetically, you’re not even sad about it.

You’re just happy, and you feel a little bit deranged because you now have the sudden urge to scribble Mrs. Hawthorne all over your journal.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Mrs. *first name* Hawthorne does have a nice ring to it though. Or maybe I’m just delusional. Could be both. Definitely couldn’t be none. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Unknown: Hopefully, this isn’t the wrong number. I wouldn’t put it past Xander to pull this sort of prank.

You’ve been raised to block unknown numbers, but this number? Yeah, you know this number.

You: Unless you’re looking for Sabrina Carpenter, this isn’t the wrong number.

Grayson: Amusing. Xander was telling me about how you know a bit of Economics.

You: Is this your version of flirting?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Then this guy goes and texts me, and I think he can’t flirt. Economics. Really? ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Grayson: Maybe.

You: If you want me to come over and help with your accounting, you just have to ask, Davenport.

Grayson: I do not ask for help.

You: Do you want to meet me today or not?

Grayson: You are going to make me ask, aren’t you?

You: Yes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── I like to imagine that he let out a very deep exhale, and maybe even one of those sexy chuckles. What? Don’t judge me. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Grayson: Would you like to come over and help with the accounts, madam?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Fuuuuuuck.  How pathetic am I for finding one text hot?? ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Twenty minutes later, you’re in his office in Hawthorne House. You met Xander downstairs, for a brief second.

A brief second in which he gave you a wink.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually need help with the accounts. I’m too tired to do this.”

Grayson smiles, and you see dimples. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Dimples. DIMPLES. HE’S BEEN HIDING DIMPLES. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Just when I thought he couldn’t get any hotter.

“You’re doing that thing again.” He says, half smirk on his face. “Where you say your thoughts out loud.”

You act unaffected, and shrug. “Some truths cannot be hidden, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Some truths,” he begins to agree, “cannot be hidden.” His eyes come to fully meet yours, and you feel your lips part of their own accord.

His eyes briefly drop to your lips before they meet your eyes again, cold and hot and the same time.

“Some truths,” he gets up from his seat, and walks to yours, which is right opposite his desk. He turns the chair, and kneels in front of you. “Some truths, like how I might be in love with you. Does that count?”

You were the one saying it before, but he’s saying it now. He’s kneeling in front of you, and all you want to do is kiss him.

His hands move away from where they were hanging from his knee, one securing the soft office chair you’re sitting on while the other goes to your feet. Slowly, he removes your heel.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He says.

No, whispers.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Grayson Hawthorne knows what to do with his hands. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

His fingers travel up your leg, and you don’t even register that you’re wearing just a skirt and stockings until his fingers come close to that one place. They rest on your thigh, tapping it with four of his fingers.

“Do you want me to? Stop?”

“No.”

You don’t recognise your voice.

His hand moves further up and further within until he touches you right there, and you’re waiting, because all you want is more. His fingers are slow and languorous as they run up and down your length. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Everything about him is slow. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

They move upwards, teasing the band of your underwear and pulling it down, towards your knees and he lets go, letting it fall to your ankles.

You’re breathless. And you don’t mind.

His fingers go back to where they can torment you better, and slowly, he pushes one finger in. 

You gasp. 

“Hush, love. You can’t let anyone hear you.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── His voice is soft. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leisurely, he brings his finger out, adding another and he pushes back in. Your heart is racing and you feel your eyes burning up, but you can’t stop looking at him below you, with his head tilted as he looks at you, slow smile and full eyes. 

Your breathing turns ragged after a while, and any longer and you feel like you might forget to breathe.

“Please.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── He’s gentle. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

His fingers move faster at your plea.

You can’t breathe anymore, and you feel like you’re reaching a high.

You’re running up a hill, waiting to go back down but you don’t want to. Not just yet.

You’re addicted to this feeling.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Grayson Hawthorne is the perfect gentleman. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Let go, love.” He whispers.

With a cry, you fall from the hill. 

You both stay still for a while, you regaining your breath and he caressing your thigh. 

It feels loving.

Slowly, he helps you up, and kneels down again to raise your underwear up to your hips again.

“I’m usually more of a gentleman.” He says, apologetically. “Bedrooms and blinds, not an office chair. But you were there, looking so beautiful, I’m afraid I couldn’t help myself.”

“You don’t need to apologise.” You say, bringing your forehead to his. They meet in the middle. 

You laugh. “I liked it, actually. Better than bedrooms and blinds.”

He chuckles, and he kisses you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Journal Entry Four