Author’s Note: Another song-based one shot. This one’s inspired by The Weeknd’s House of Balloons jam, “The Morning”. (Y’all should listen to it.)
OTP(s): Park Chanyeol x Reader
Genre: Smut, fluff
Word Count: 3652
Warnings: Smut, sex on chairs, hot cinammon rolls
Sypnosis: Love doesn’t just lie in a person’s actions for Chanyeol.
Unsurprisingly, it’s Chanyeol’s idea to invade the streets at nine a.m in the fucking morning.
The cactus in your living room becomes too boring to stare at and the impatient tick-tick-ticking of the clock long ago passed the border between momentarily surly and irritable. Chanyeol emerges from the kitchen, topping a disheveled bedhead (“sex hair”), lips parted around the edge of on milk carton. His eyes smoothe the curves of your shoulders, map the loose, swelling mouth of the collar of his T-shirt—a silent, discarded ripple of enkindled desire. “Let’s go out.” The murmur is faintly above a whisper, but still prevails in being heard. You cock your head, slogging back a smirk at the way the corners of Chanyeol’s lips have suddenly been set aquiver. He rests a hand against the wall, splintered and pale. As he leans to the side, the collar of his shirt sags, revealing a poorly hidden wreath of scarlet blazes. You remember how you’d felt the blood in his veins thrumming beneath the swell of your tongue—pulsing, burning, rushing. “Where to?” Chanyeol’s eyes follow your descent to the pillow on the couch, whorls of dust springing free as your head sinks into clawed, moth-eaten flesh. “Benny’s. Gavin’s cafe.” Chanyeol’s elbow lurches as he lugs the milk carton forward, mouth closing over the plastic. Adam’s apple bobs as cold white escapes into a pulsing trachea. You nod, fingers edging the tattered wood of the coffee table. You remember how the cold splinters had dug into your back a few mornings before, when Chanyeol had come up with the bright fucking idea of taking you right there—right next to his morning coffee. “How about we leave in ten?” the fucking lewd maniac drawls, figure sweeping back into the kitchen. “Don’t worry about a shower or anything, you’ll be fine.” You don’t even bother acquiting a murmur of protest as your back elevates from the sofa. The black plastic coat of your phone warms your palm, thin fingers closing around the device, pale knobbly legs leaving the warm confines of the sofa cushions. Norleom Street is dusty and vacant, the usually kept lawns ridden with the soiled vestiges of long-deceased plants. Chanyeol’s fingers are warm and soft against the flesh of your palm. The sunlight manages to properly reflect the quiescent innocence within him—russet gaze marred by the fresh, pure zeal of swallowing the jovial chirrups of scarlet thrushes, vermillon mouth quirked with crisp mirth. A brief comber of vertigo strikes your brain, momentarily robbing your legs of stability. Chanyeol’s fingers come to swathe your wrist and you regain your balance, looking up at eyes full of amusement. “Be more careful, babe. Am I that good looking or is this because of last night?” A laugh parts his lips at the ruby wreaths that come to your cheeks. “Oh, shut up.” “You’re right,” Chanyeol’s fingers lick across your wrist to your palm. “I should be the one walking funny with all the bouncing you were doing on me last night. That shit actually kind of hurt.” “Oh, fuck off,” you rasp savagely out the corner of your mouth. “You liked it.” “Actually,” Chanyeol’s other hand cups the curve of your hip. “I loved it.” He inclines his head, the way the veins in his neck thrum against the air composing goosebumps on your arms, and slowly covers your mouth with his. It’s a sweet kiss, primarily tongue-free, and Chanyeol gently tugs you to meet his body. His fingers wound the cotton of your shirt, twirling, twisting and you slide further towards the wamth of his body, his other hand still tightly holding yours. He moves to draw back, but you snatch his lower lip between your teeth and cup the side of his neck, the harsh groan that leaves his throat burning against your fingertips. Then comes his tongue—sodden and humid—and then he’s tracing every crevice of your mouth and warming every dark, cold corner and it’s too much—it’s just fucking too much. He parts, staring down at you with sweet, trumulous eyes, thumb mapping the region dangerously close to the underside of your breast. “I love you.” His stare’s intensity shifts into a level of discomort and your eyes shyly lower to meet the ground. “Come on,” Chanyeol’s palm is tightly melted into yours again and feet begin dragging along coarse concrete. Guilt pangs your bones. Ever since you’d started dating Chanyeol seven months ago, the words still hadn’t left your lips. You loved Chanyeol. He knew you did. But you’d been too shy to omit the phrase officially yet. Chanyeol understood. He read your actions more than your words; and your actions screamed the proclamation he yearned to hear louder than your future words ever could to him. Benny’s is fairly empty when you enter mintues later. A slender male with chestnut-colored skin gestures Chanyeol forth and a sweet smile plays on his lips as he plucks out a chair for you to plop in and goes to talk to him. He and the worker converse for several minutes until finally Chanyeol returns with a small blue blasket blanketed with flimsy white paper. He sinks beside you, passing you the basket which acquits a warm, delicious scent. You snatch the paper, freeing the smell completely. Cinammon rolls. You twist to look at Chanyeol. “It took you ten minutes to get four of these?” Chanyeol’s lips curl into a scowl that’s supposed to feign indignation. “Hey, they had to cook them first!” “I’m just joking,” you mutter, grabbing a roll and splitting it apart. A tear of warm cinammon oozes along the bread and your stomach grunts with anticipation. The roll faces a rapid ascent into your awaiting mouth and a moan unconsciously flits from your throat. Chanyeol leans and rubs your back as you munch heartily. “There’s nothing more beautiful than watching the one you love enjoy life’s little pleasures.” Ignoring his affectionate gaze, another inch of roll warms your mouth and sets ease to your tongue. “Eating is not a little pleasure. Eating is a significant facet of life.” You thrust your index and middle finger towards the two rolls harbouring the left corner of the basket. “You can have those two.” Chanyeol’s eyes momentarily beam with gratitude. “Thanks.” And then his russet gaze is marred with pride as he snatches a roll and tosses it into his other hand. “I’m guessing sex is another?” You nearly choke. “What?” “You heard me.” He inches closer and his fingers kiss the curve of your jawline. “Sex is another significant facet of life.” “Maybe for you.” The words come out in a shrill whisper and you mentally chastise yourself for sounding so sweak, so vacillating. “Oh, really,” Chanyeol’s fingers flicks your lower lip and it takes every blade of restraint within not to swipe it with your tongue. He tilts and his scarlet mouth gently pays homage to yours. When he draws back, his eyes are stained with desire. “On a scale of 1-10, how good are those cinammon rolls?” You ravish another bite, pretending to mull things over. “An 11.” A smirk tugs Chanyeol’s lips and your left thigh tightly comes to hug the other. “I’ve got something that’s a 12.” You don’t even have to glance down to see if he’s hard. You can sense it in his voice. “There’s a storage room down the hall. Meet me there when you’re done eating.” He rises and with ferdent strides, he veers into a seperate corridor and out of sight. The heat cradled between your legs intensifies so much that you ask the worker behind the counter for a take-out bag for your food. He supplies it willingly, and with a brisk murmur of gratitude, you’re taking Chanyeol’s previous steps down the corridor, not bothering to see if any of the workers are peering with suspicion. Six seconds barely transpire on the course to the storage room and by the time your hand enfolds the doorknob, you swear your arousal is already clouding the air. The moment the door twists open, pale fingers seize the cloth of your shirt and haul you inside. Chanyeol’s mouth buries your own with a searing, wet kiss and his hands find your thighs, drawing you towards him. “You definitely ate too fast,” he pants around your lips. “I’m slightly worried.” “You’re an idiot,” you crush his lips with yours and he staggers, groaning slightly. When you pull away, his eyes are burning. “How could I finish eating knowing what I’m about to get?” “Who said you were getting anything?” Indignation blooms your cheeks and a rich, hearty laugh explodes from Chanyeol at the sight of your scowl. “I’m just joking, babe.” He carefully drops to his knees, fingers hooking around your sweatpants. “I could never leave you hanging like this.” He jerks the cloth down and you watch their descent to your knees. “Speaking of hanging.” You follow his gaze to her sodden panties. “These definitely aren’t.” His palm grazes the center, rocking against you. “I don’t think they’ll be hanging like they used to after a while—being this fucking wet.” A gasp shudders from your throat as Chanyeol’s teeth seize the edge of your panties, eyes boring into yours. He draws the cloth downwards, but not hard enough to move them, just enough to peer inside at your bare, glistening wetness. You bite back a whine as the cloth is released and his mouth begins raking up your arm, peppering kisses along your elbows and clad shoulders. His fingers enfold your waist as he dampens your neck with his mouth, drawing hieroglyphics along the flesh with his tongue. His other hand cups you gently, middle finger mapping the damp swell of your clit. You wrap your arms around him, the moan that had gathered in your throat seconds ago bursting free. “Am I making you feel good, baby?” He rubs a bit harder and you can feel your clit growing. “Y-yes. That feels so good.” He draws the damp skin of your neck into his mouth, forcibly sucking. “Damn, I need you.” You immediately shove your hand downward, brushing it along his cotton-clad skin. Your fingers immediately find his erection and you close your hand tightly around him, rocking your palm back and forth. He groans, hoarse and needy, and you stroke a bit faster, pressing light kisses against his pectorals. His veins drum furiously against your tongue as you guide it along the damp slope of his throat. “You want me to suck you off?” Chanyeol’s eyes nearly roll out of his skull with pleasure. “God…please…” You slowly drop to your knees, gazing up at him all the while. A blush quickly blooms in your cheeks seeing how he towers over you. For a moment, it briefly sends your heart pounding with fear, but when you glance up at him and see his warm face and the beautiful veins pulsing in his vermillion neck, it erases completely. You close your hand around him, pecking the tip. A shudder passes through his body. “Babe,” Chanyeol murmurs, eyes closed. You glance up at him. “Yeah?” “We’ve never done this before.” “I know, babe. I’ll try to make this extra good for you, then.” You flash a seductive wink. Chanyeol shudders again. “No, I mean…uhm…I’ve never done this before.” Excitement takes hold of you, overriding the surprise. “Are you saying this is your first blowjob?” “Y-yeah.” “Well, I guess I’ve got to make it good then.” And you wrap your lips around him. A loud, rich moan parts his lips and his head lulls back. The sight of the straining veins on his neck is nearly enough to make you come right there. He’s warm and stiff against your tongue and when you slash the underside of his base, his whole body shudders. “God, that’s amazing,” he rasps as you slide your mouth back and forth. He tugs his pants all the way down as you pay homage to the tip, staring up at him. “Jesus.” You draw back, a smirk playing on your lips. “I’ve been told the resemblance is damn near frightening, but my name’s (Y/N) if you forgot.” A chuckle rumbles from his throat and he passes a hand through his hair. “You are so fucking sexy.” You glide a hand beneath his shirt, palming the tight muscles of his abs. “So are you.” His breaths grow rougher and his knuckles turn unhealthily pallid. You sit still as he gently begins thrusting into your awaiting mouth on his own, watching you for assurance all the while. “Damn, your tongue feels so good.” You groan around him, reaching down to pet yourself. The moment Chanyeol’s eyes find your fingers, he draws back immediately. At first you’re confused as you’re sure he hasn’t come yet (you would’ve tasted it), but the moment you see him draw out a chair from the corner of the room and plop it down in the center you know what’s up. Jokingly, a frown curves your lips. “Channie, I thought we were gonna fuck, not play Musical Chairs?” You’re surprised when he squats and flattens himself to the ground on his back, readying himself with slow, confident strokes. “Just shut up and sit on my face.” It takes everything in you not to start giggling with pure mirth as you saunter over to him, poising yourself directly over his face. A moan leaves his lips as you sink to your knees and drop to his awaiting tongue. The moment you felt his lips pass over your clit, a gasp shakes your whole body and your fists pulse against the ground. Tongue manuevring across your sodden labia, his arms draw around the backs of your thighs, locking you in place. The way his tongue dances over you and draws your clit into his mouth has you shuddering. Every slightly dry region grows wet with need and you’re literally surprised a puddle of your arousal hasn’t formed around Chanyeol’s head. Fisting his shirt, you come with a strangled squeal as his lips fold around your clit one last time, tongue heatedly thrashing. With one last, slow lick that sends his tongue deep inside of you, he gently lifts you off of him. Panting, you don’t even have to wait for him to ask as you grab his erection, mounting it directly beneath you. A loud, throaty groan swells in your ears as warm, slender fingers catch tightly around your hips, guiding you as you smoothly descend him. He feels just as he always does. So damn good. You bob gently, feeling his hands caress the dip in your back and the curve of your asscheeks. You stretch your hands back, smoothing his abs and pelvis as you rise and fall, rise and fall, the pleasure increasing with each graceful descent. “Baby,” the growl is rasp and strangled. “Turn around. Look at me.” Wanting to prolong your pleasure, you ground your hips slowly against him, a long moan leaving your throat, before gently easing yourself off of him and revolving your position so you’re facing him. He smiles, an innocent, jovial smile and he cups your hips, poising himself against you. Holding you tight, he dives inside and you gasp at the way you wetly part around him. He moves, guiding himself in and out of you, before carefully grabbing your hips, smoothly furling to his knees and standing up. You’re puzzled, but only for a brief moment as he drops into the chair, the hands tightly cupping your ass hauling you back and forth, grounding your hips together. You enfold the back of his neck, staring down into his eyes. He catches your mouth, guiding you faster against him as his teeth sink into the edge of the cup of your bra. He draws it down completely and closes his lips around the bare flesh. The warmth of his tongue against your nipple and the fervent slapping of his erection is enough to send you over the edge completely. With a loud call of his name, you quake against him, holding him close. He groans into your shoulder, shuddering at how tight you squeeze him as he releases. Eyes closed, he tugs you closer to his body until it feels like you’ve melted together. The air is calm and silent as you catch your breath, occasionally mapping each other’s backs with wandering hands and gently squeezing asscheeks. “That was amazing,” you muse in his ear, still feeling lost in your high. “Yes, it was,” his arms slowly slither off of you and suddenly he’s leaning back in the chair, black tresses casting a messy shadow across his eyes, ropes of sweat tribbling in fucking torrents down his shirt. Fuck. He looks so beautiful. He opens his eyes and the moment his gaze finds you, a blinding smile breaks out on his face, the corner of his lips slightly quirking with shyness as he reaches a hand to cup your cheek. “God, you’re beautiful.” He inclines forward to kiss between your breasts. “So, so beautiful. Sometimes I think you deserve better.” You jerk with surprise. “Why?” His eyes tilt up to meet yours and you can see the pain marring his cheeks. He’s serious. He doesn’t think he’s good enough. “You need someone who can take care of you all the time. With all their being, with all their love. Look at me, I barely have enough money to support the both of us. And the only time I really feel like I can make you happy is when I’m inside of you, which is why I make love with you so goddamn much.” You narrow your eyebrows, unable to believe he’s being serious. “Chanyeol—” “I love you. And one day, I hope you can find someone who’ll come home to you with everything and anything you want. Someone who can cherish you completely. Someone you can…say ‘I love you too’.” Pain immediately strikes your heart. It was about this. It was about how you’d never told him you love him. “Ch-Chanyeol…” Realizing how he’s completely shifted the mood, his eyes wander everywhere but your face. “I-I’m sorry…I’m done now.” “No,” you cup his chin, raising his head to meet your gaze. “Chanyeol, listen to me. I’ve been through a lot in terms of romance and insecurity, but that’s nowhere near a fucking excuse for me to make you feel this way.” He blinks rapidly as his eyes become twinged with pain at your tone. “Baby…” “No, just listen. I’m not blaming you and I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at me. I’m disgusted with myself because the most perfect, beautiful boy I’ve ever met thinks he’s a piece of shit and he’s not. If anything, that’s me. Chanyeol, we’ve both been through a lot with relationships and we both need to be loved. And I’m here. I’m here to love you.” You grasp his hand in yours. “I do. So, so much, Chanyeol.” His eyes become glazed like he’s living in a dream. An actual, fucking dream. “I-I—” You press a finger to his lips, silencing him. “No. Let me say it this time.” Your finger gently glides down his mouth to cup his chin and his whole body seems to tremble. “I love you.” It’s as if something’s burst inside of him—something even he doesn’t understand and for a moment he looks like he’s confused on whether to cry or laugh. Instead, you allow him to do neither, slowly kissing his lips. He holds you, soft and close, and by the time you break apart, tears are shining in both of your eyes. “I-I always knew you loved me,” he whispered, “but hearing you say it…” “I’ll say it all day if you want me to. I’m sorry it’s so late. I was such an idiot.” “Hey,” he pecks your cheek, smiling sweetly. “You’re not an idiot. You’re a sweet, beautiful girl and I’m so, so happy to call you mine.” You nuzzle your nose with his, giggling at his cheesiness. “So,” he drawls, gently drawing out of you, “since there’s another chair over there"—you follow his gaze to the other end of the room where a black chair with silver legs is turned over by a wall of cardboard boxes—"how about we go with your previous idea and actually play Musical Chairs?” You laugh and he stands, walks a few steps and lowers you to your feet. “Naked Musical Chairs?” you muse. Chanyeol chuckles, playfully squeezing your breast. “You bet. And we’re only going to use sex songs.” “And the first one to lose has to give the other a lap dance?” Chanyeol laughs, heartily. “That’s the most brilliant idea I’ve heard in a while. You’re on, but I call picking the first song.” “Go ahead.” He saunters over to his pants lying on the ground and gropes through the pockets, digging free his phone.
“I’ll hit ‘Shuffle’ to make things more interesting.”
A few seconds of silence is swallowed by the melodic snapping of an R&B number. You quirk an eyebrow. “Neighbors Know My Name by Trey Songz?” “Damn it,” Chanyeol huffs, looking defeated. “This song always gets me going.” You giggle, curling a finger to command him forward. “Guess you’re going to owe me a lap dance, pretty boy.” Chanyeol playfully charges towards you, smashing his lips against yours. You chuckle into his mouth as he rocks his hips into you, moving to blow raspberries along your neck. “What the hell are you doing?” “Practicing. I wanna give you a good lap dance, baby.” You laugh, shaking your head as Chanyeol continues grinding his hips in the air, looking more like a loose spaghetti noodle caught in the wind than a sensual dancer. But you still love him. And isn’t that all that matters?
hear my staggering growls caress your ear as I continue to grind my cock on
your moist pussy. You hold tight to my arms as pleasure build up inside of you,
you feel my arms harden as I put more strength into my movements. My mind give
in to the desire of your body as my lust blaze up in me, I can’t let go of you
anymore, I need more. My grunts resonate louder making your pussy quiver under
the roar of my lust. My breath slide your skin and on its passage shivers
follow its trail. As my cock hammer your clit your breathing gets heavier and
your toes curl. Your hands run over my body as I take yours. Your fingers run
from my mane to my neck and to my back. Under your touch my body respond with
goosebumps, you make shivers wave on my body as you enkindle me with more
desire. My fists close and I curse as my hips bash my cock between your legs. You
put your hands on my chest and beside the heat that comes from my body you feel
my heart thumping rapidly as I clench my teeth. I can’t hold back any longer,
and so can’t you. You wrap your legs around my hips, begging me to push my cock
inside of you. I glare at you, our eyes piercing each other’s’, intoxicated by
our lust I finally plunge my cock in you and your face lighten up even more
under the piercing pleasure. As my cock push its way between your creamy walls,
you groan deeply and claw my shoulders. Your breast thrust forward while your
back arches, your body press against mine and you feel the heat of my skin
embrace your body as my girth slowly ease in you. Your lips are shut tight but
moans escape them anyway as I begin to nudge into your dampness. My hard strong
cock begins to pump into you with vigor. Your body waves, I continue to press
my cock deeper and I begin to ram faster as your body’s movements become more
frantic. My cock continue to caress your inside with rough strokes and as moan slip
through your lips I pull my cock back. Only the head is in you, teasing to go
deeper as I stopped all movement. Your teeth are clenched and you whimper and
whisper that you want some more. You want the firmness of my dick to push into
you deep, you desire my cock to ram into you with rapidity, and you crave my
hips hammering my cock into you. You are begging me to continue and to take you
hard. Your legs still wrapped around me you begin to move your hips, thrusting
forward, you implore me to fuck you as your cunt drips of excitement. I smirk
as I see you pleading me. We are both weak against the desire for some more and
finally I ram sternly and profoundly into you, you gasp and your eyes widen as
you feel my member finally entering you with fervour. I pick up some speed and
you beg me to fuck you harder. I growl as I fuck you wildly and my thrusts go
harder as we both cling to each other’s body. You try to control your moans but
as I continue to savagely fuck you, you finally submit to pleasure. Your moans
are not muffled by your closed lips anymore and we both begin to groan loudly.
You blush as your cries of pleasure echo to your ears, you hear me and yourself
in a sexual frenzy, rapidly fucking and moaning as if it would be the last time.
I plunge my cock into you cunt’s depth some more, my rock solid dick continually
penetrate you with strength and rapidity. Your mind is assaulted by waves of
pleasure as we are enthralled by the pleasure we give one another, your cunt
grip on my cock tightly as I continue to pound you hard until the whole neighbourhood can hear us.
O GOD, by whose grace the blessed Matilda enkindled with the fire of thy love, became a burning and a shining light in thy Church: Grant that we may be inflamed with the same spirit of discipline and love, and ever walk before thee as children of light; through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Every time I think about it, the hanar/drell Compact seems more and more sketchy. Thane will try to correct himself if Shepard says that he’s given them the impression that the hanar value the drell for their skills, but when Shepard outright says ‘it sounds like slavery,’ his response is a snappy ‘don’t insult me, Shepard,’ saying that drell are free to refuse to serve the hanar, it’s just most don’t.
Especially factoring in how the drell evolved on a desert world and the hanar brought them to Kahje, a water world, rather than settling the survivors on a world better suited for their biology. Rather than release the drell from their service, or even just relocating them, now that they know about Kepral’s syndrome and how it’s literally a death sentence for drell, the drell are still on Kahje. Plus the fact that Thane acknowledges that the drell young are abandoning their ways for the hanar Enkindlers… This doesn’t sound like it’s entirely on the level.
And it seriously sounds like Thane is aware of it being a bad situation, but hasn’t quite admitted it to himself. Like even if it’s not slavery… I mean, my mind is going to a comparison with the post-Civil War American South, where the slaves were free, but with no education and no land of their own, they still ended up back on the plantations working the same fields they’d been at while enslaved, so a kind of slavery without chains kind of thing.
And of course, the Council has fucked off, because that’s what they do, but this really feels like some kind of sapient rights violations that they should be intervening in.
Just… there’s a story here, screaming to be told. And instead, we had nothing in ME3. Hell, we didn’t even get to flyby Kahje!
Breathe into me Holy Spirit, that all my thoughts may be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy. Protect me, Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy.
Come, Holy Spirit
Come, O Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and enkindle in them the fire of your love. Send forth your Spirit, and they shall be created. And you shall renew the face of the earth.
Let us pray
O God, who has taught the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Spirit, grant that by the gift of the same Spirit we may be always truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolation, through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Jago’s tongue slid over his chapped lips, meting out what moisture he could. Dark brows came together, knitted in concern.
“… What happened to you…?” He murmured.The question hung heavily in the air, a looming, oppressive force. With a strained grunt, he rolled over onto his side. Lances of scalding pain danced down his left arm, yet stubbornly he reached towards her to brush a lock of hair from her face. His fingers traced the porcelain skin of her cheek affectionately, yet no warmth reached his features. They were narrowed into a confounded scowl, his mind dissecting the problem.
“… The Vrykul.” He hissed, the tendons in his jaw hardening as he grit his teeth. The warlock pulled away, his gaze drifting into a distant stare. The fire in his eyes enkindled as rising anger breathed new life into the embers. His aura quivered with raw energy, and while his discipline remained ironclad, tension oozed from his presence.
I’ll slaughter every last one of them! How dare they lay a finger on you…
Inadvertently, the thought traveled the span between their minds - the tether connecting them trembled feverishly with Jago’s rage. His thoughts thundered; a hurricane boiling the surface of the Great Sea itself. His hands balled into fists and he resigned to silent brooding.
Derek Hale attempted, quite desperately, to subdue the monstrous
jealousy enkindling a ravenous wildfire in the depths of his stomach. Murmuring
encouragement to himself as his olive flecked hazel eyes flared an electric
blue, suppressing the territorial growl reverberating in his throat as his
trembling hands preoccupied themselves with the smartphone in his grasp. He tried to appeal to a fragment of
rationality; you were his girlfriend, you loved him, Jordan Parrish
is your family.
Requested by @renlyslittlerose: mshenko: Shep comes home with a pair of awful Blasto undies and keeps making Enkindle jokes whilst wearing them.
Kaidan heard Shepard climb out of bed upstairs. There were several muffled groans and the sink turn on. He kept to cooking the bacon currently in the frying pan. Shepard had come in late the night before from an undoubtedly annoying meeting with the Council, and they hadn’t had any time together since the morning before.
“Are you kidding me? Derek will murder you.” Stiles criticized as Isaac verbalized the merciless reverence enkindled in his damaged lycan heart. He needed a savior; a celestial presence to brighten the darkness, a tenderness to dominate the beast and a pure love that would consume his being. He’d found that in a Hale; you. The Hale
personality traits were genetic; the stubbornness, the martyr complex, the
tenacious moral compass and the hot-blooded temper. They were endearing
qualities that coaxed a passionate attachment to you. He’d befriended you instantaneously
after your integration into Scott’s pack; volunteering to accompany you during
supernatural surveillance, partnering up during school projects and
mysteriously showing up for spontaneous hang outs.