so Marisha’s comment on the latest talks about Beau warming up to Molly but not being sure whether he’s warming up to her? kind of got me thinking. because Molly is so very much a playful rudeness kind of person, see: his interactions with everybody at the circus, but Beau seems… pretty direct, in a lot of ways, to the point where a lot of her blunt abrasiveness isn’t actually intended to be as sarcastic or negative as it sounds. and I just have this idea of this… miscommunication, where they keep casually sniping at each other, and Beau’s starting to kind of get used to Molly, you know, he’s funny, he’s nice to have around, if you pushed her she’d admit she kind of enjoys the back and forth. but he’s still, you know, in full “she’s helping, she’s awful, ignore her” mode, and so she figures his opinion of her hasn’t really changed since the beginning, she’s just kind of the inconvenient part of the package deal that is this group. 

meanwhile, Molly has gradually reclassified her from “douchebag I’m stuck with” to “I can fuck with her all I want but if you even think about it you answer to my swords,” and to him it’s perfectly obvious that’s how he thinks of her; this is how everyone he’s ever really known has shown affection, it’s just how it works. and there’s just this gap, between them, dragging out, until one of two things happens:

  • Molly gets absolutely roaring drunk one night and drapes his entire body over Beau’s shoulders and nuzzles into her hair. “uh, what? we hug now?” Beau asks, blinking heavily.
    “of course we hug now, why wouldn’t we hug?” Molly says, kissing her hair, and rolls his eyes far more dramatically than someone with no actual pupils should be able to manage. “don’t be stupid. your hair smells nice, by the way, I didn’t expect that.” Beau sits there for fifteen flabbergasted minutes while Molly idly starts petting her undercut.
  • Beau gets herself into deep and spectacular shit, not just physical danger but real and true trouble, the kind of thing where she couldn’t blame any of them for cutting her loose – the kind of thing where she can maybe see some of them thinking about – and then Molly takes two steps forward and puts himself at her side, glaring out at the people who want her. 
    “no,” he says, “she’s coming with us, this isn’t a discussion. everyone, come on, what are you doing?” with a glance to the others on the sidelines, and Beau moves to place her back to his and thinks, oh. 


Some say the world will end in 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝑒,

Some say in 𝒾𝒸𝑒.

daechwita (preview)

『pairing』 : Yoongi x reader

『genre』 : period drama, peasant to king!yoongi, Princess!y/n, graphic depictions of violence, smut, Yoongi is so soft for Y/n tbh, fluff

『warnings』 : violence, smut, etc.

『word count』 : (preview) 1.2k+

『summary』 : All that Yoongi knows is that King Park must be killed- he just didn’t plan falling in love with his daughter alone the way

『a/n』 : I know I know I was supposed to post written in the stars and I’m so sorry but I’ve been so busy with tests and stuff that I couldn’t finish it and istg I will post soon!! I’m so sorry :-((

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Real With You

Summary: As Y/N explores the streets of Brooklyn in search of a bar, she ends up with a gun pointed at her head when someone notices her as Wade Wilson’s girl. But before Deadpool can swoop in and save the day, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Flirting, Harassment, Drinking, Heavy Mentions of Sex, Violence 


God frickin’ damn …”

Y/N couldn’t help but clench her jaw as she felt the heat of a man following close behind her. He reeked the scent of whiskey and pine.

The streets of Brooklyn were roaring that night as people crowded outside of gentlemen’s clubs and huddled in alleyways notoriously known for their sketchy activities.

She wore a long, red trench coat that fit along every one of her impeccable curves. Peeking out from underneath was a simple black, laced dress that adorned nicely with her skinny, black heels.

Y/N needed an excuse to break into the night again. She wanted a strong drink and the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and weed to overwhelm the oxygen in the air. She couldn’t believe she missed that life.

“… Girls like you don’t come walkin’ through Brooklyn free, darlin’ …”

“Well, I’m one of a fuckin’ kind …” Her eyes were dark and deadly as she spun around. Her black heels clicked against the sidewalk as she took a step closer to the man. “… and I’m just not interested.”

A rebellious smile crept up onto the man’s face as he seemed satisfied with Y/N’s wrath of anger. He took a step closer to her and chuckled darkly as the woman seemed unimpressed by his confidant stance.

As she glared at him fiercely, Y/N couldn’t help but admit how handsome he was. The neon sign above reflected a purple glow on his skin that sent her mind into a frenzy of flashbacks from all the men and women she would pick up at bars and clubs. But that was her old life, she wasn’t the same person; not anymore.

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Wof thoughts

Every tribe has a very distinct roar or an equivalent of one.

A Skywings roars sound like lion roars but much louder and deeper.

Rainwings sound like deranged peacocks when they roar, honestly would be horrifying to hear them roaring in the dead of the night in the rainforest. (Just look up Biollante roars and you’ll get the gist)

Nightwings don’t roar instead they screech and they sound like barn owls but much more louder and has a echo behind it. Probably the most unsettling.

Sandwing roars are extremely unique, they constantly switch in tone and is incredibly loud. (Kinda of like a Chicago tornado siren but obviously in a roar form)

Mudwings have a very basic roar, much like what you’d get from a trex in most dinosaur movies.

Seawings have two roars, one which is high pitched and can be used underwater and another which sounds like a normal roar but has a rattle sound towards the begging and end of it.

Icewings have a howl as well as a roar, their howls are very wolf like. While there roar is almost exactly the same to a cougars roar but louder.

Hogwarts House Aesthetics

Gryffindor: Chimney smoke mixing with the clouds as a storm begins to brew. A roaring fireplace on a cold January night. Inkblots on a crumpled sheet of paper. Autumn leaves dancing around each other as they fall to the ground. Plaid blankets. The song the wind sings when no one is listening. Loosely braided hair. A handful of copper coins. Skinned knees and untied shoelaces. The crease between eyebrows as lips pucker to blow out a candle. Laughter at six in the morning. Hands moving so fast that they look like fluttering birds. Broken tree branches. Songs sung off-key, out of tune, and together.

Ravenclaw: Rain pounding on the windows when everyone is asleep. A closed book on a dusty desk. Feathers. An emptied water glass, alone on the table. Wire-rimmed glasses. The leather bound cover of an overused journal. Handwriting so quick and swirled that it can hardly be counted as legible. The draft of air from an open window. Unnamed constellations. A cat with its claws stuck in the curtains. Perfectly buttoned shirts. Nights spent without sleep. A chessboard where the first player has yet to make a move. Lips pursed in thought. Bottle caps hidden in a box beneath a bed. A pen without ink. The feeling of falling asleep.

Hufflepuff: A flower unfurling its petals to greet the dawn. Freckles dotting blushing cheeks. Soup beginning to boil. Dust drifting through a lonely ray of sunlight. Tapping fingers that speed with every minute. Friends calling to each other from down the hall. Boots with broken zippers. A sunset just before it turns blue. A single bumblebee. A pair of socks with the toes worn away. The smell of something baking two rooms away. Birds singing an hour too early. The reflection of a face in a spoon. Birds flying in vee formation. Pinkies linked together. Eyes widened in realization. The call of a trumpet into an empty room. Hands stained with flour. The lingering of breath after a question. An owl carrying a letter. Papercuts. A face caught in standstill as it shifts from confusion to a smile.

Slytherin: Staying up too late and waking up too early. A river as it emerges from hibernation. Silver coins. Coats with three shiny buttons that swirl around the ankles. The moon on a cloudless night. Confessions spilled into the open air. Ivy creeping up the side of an old building. Falling into a familiar pair of arms. Blankets tangled helplessly. Bells. Footprints in freshly-fallen snow. Sentences without punctuation. A slightly breathless voice. A dream that doesn’t make sense but doesn’t seem entirely fictional. Hoarse whispers. Unused parchment. The flicker of a lightbulb on a windy day. Yawning. Overgrown grass in a forgotten field. Ears stained pink from embarrassment and cold weather. A handwritten letter sealed with wax. Boiling water. Standing off to the side and watching the world go by.

Other Aesthetics: The Marauders / Lily Evans / Jily and Wolfstar


There’s a knock at Steve’s door at 3 am, followed by a rather shaky indrawn breath.

Debating the merits of ignoring whoever it is and satisfying his curiosity, Steve hesitantly opens the door a fraction, peering out into the hallway of his apartment.

“You’re still too trusting,” a dark, rough voice informs him, wisps of smoke curling around the door frame.

“Well, unlike some people, I don’t have rabid fans who’ll attack me the moment I open my door, Tony.”

Tony waves an absent hand, his cigarette tracing soft waves of smoke in the air as he leans against the door, looking unbothered. “Semantics, Rogers. You gonna let me in or what?”

Steve pulls open the door, and Tony steps rather elegantly inside, putting his cigarette out on the counter. He looks around at Steve’s apartment, giving Steve the perfect chance to look at him.

Tony’s wearing an all black suit, the shirt unbuttoned just enough so that Steve is reminded of bruises against the skin of sharp collarbones. He looks ruffled, but artfully so, as if he planned the way his sloping collar outlines the curve of his neck. His jacket and slacks are black too, sharp and crisp against his tanned skin. Steve is suddenly hit with a surge of something familiar and warm, the want to throw Tony back against the door and strip every article of beautiful, useless clothing away from his body.

When he finally looks up, Steve isn’t surprised to find that Tony is staring at him, eyes dark and heated, but still painfully casual.

“Tony-” he starts, but before he can finish whatever mundane thought he was about to voice, Tony’s hand is on his face, the smell of smoke and the remnants of whatever club he was at drifting into Steve’s lungs.

Tony runs his thumb gently over Steve’s bottom lip and looks up at him, eyes wide and bright and far too beautiful. Distantly, Steve wonders how he ever managed to say no to him.

“Steve-” Tony echoes, soft and careful, his breath warm on Steve’s lips just before he leans forward to close the distance between their mouths.

The sound that Steve makes in reply isn’t a word, more of a breathless sort of groan, and before he knows it, Tony’s pressed up against the wall, his hands running through Steve’s hair. Tony tastes like smoke and a life that Steve won’t ever understand, flashing lights and roaring fans and hollow nights.

“I can’t stay,” Tony rasps out as Steve sets out on a quest to suck a bruise into the hollow of Tony’s neck.

Steve pulls back just enough to look Tony in the eyes, both of them breathless and too desperate. Tony’s eyes are wide but honest. If Steve looks closer, he can see the fear behind his blown pupils, the worry that Steve’ll pull back, tell him goodnight, and send him on his way.

It makes Steve’s heart ache, the thought that tomorrow he’ll wake up with only the faint memory of Tony’s cologne on his pillow, and a used cigarette on his counter. But Steve knows Tony, knows that Tony is lonely and scared and that he came here, which has to at least mean something.

So he swallows hard, presses a kiss to Tony’s lips that isn’t bruising or soft, but rather, somewhere in the middle, like a goodbye and an apology. 

“That’s okay,” he whispers, and it’s only seconds until they’re both tearing at each other’s clothes, pressing skin against skin, stumbling back towards the bedroom.

Tony kisses him again, soft and pliant, when they’re in bed, eyes locked onto each other. It’s an apology, quiet and full of regret, clear as day. Even as his heart clenches in his chest, Steve kisses back, telling Tony what he can’t say with his voice what he can with his body.

It’s okay.

BTS Reactions: Taehyung ~~ Hearing you sing for the first time.

You awoke with a bang. Your eyes shot open to the sight of flashing lights and the sound of explosions. You shifted in your position, but Taehyung had wrapped his arm and leg around you in a close embrace. You continued to wriggle to turn over and look out the window. There were fireworks searing through the sky that streamed red, blue and golden light on the bedroom walls. You stared as each firework exploded into different shapes and sent booming roars through the quiet night. 

You shuffled down the bed to edge closer to Taehyung in attempt to fall back asleep when you began to here Yeontan yelp and bark from the living room. Worried that the fireworks had woken and scared him, you wormed your way out of Taehyung’s strong embrace to comfort the frightened puppy. 

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Bunyips? oi yeah nah mate

I dunno how it mighta got here, but I guess it came along with me on my move from Australia. To tourists, a bunyip don’t look too out of place considering all the other whacky things one might find in the mysterious Land Down Under. But an Aussie can recognise that a bunyip don’t really fit with the local wildlife. They’d hang ‘round billabongs, creeks, lakes and the dams on the farms. Kids who’ve never seen one, who’ve never heard the stories, would swim in the dams and creeks with no fear. Those Aussie kids fear only spiders and snakes. Me old mates and I knew better.

No one can seem to really agree on what a bunyip looks like exactly. Most reckon they’ve got either four legs or a tail and flippers, kinda like a sea lion. Some say they’ve got tusks. Oi yeah nah, says some other bloke, it’s horns they’ve got, not tusks. I’ve also heard of ‘em puttin’ them to use - horns or tusks or whatever - punching right through some poor sheila’s ribcage. She’d just gone for a swim after dark. Her screams would be lost among the various other screeches heard on a summer’s night. Similar feedin’s seem to pop up every now and then, but bugger me if anyone actually paid any attention to them. Me, I’d stay clear of the water at night, ignorin’ the hungry roars that had become the white noise to put me to sleep. 

Now, back at Elsewhere Uni, I’ve gotten used to the different sounds at night. It’s quieter. Peaceful, actually. ‘Cept for the odd bump in the night. Ah well, that’s just the norm here I guess. But this arvo I’m chatting with a couple of blokes I’ve seen around campus, and they ask me if I’d heard the roars last night. Nah, didn’t hear a thing, I say. Sure woke us right up. Well, what about the screams then? You didn’t hear them? I realise that, yeah you know what, I actually did hear something. Frownin’, I recalled the sudden drowsiness I’d had right before jumpin’ back to attention at the distant cries for mercy. Blow me, I’d heard the roar of a bunyip. It was just so damn familiar that I didn’t pay any attention at all until remembering it just now. It’d been so much of an accepted part of my childhood that I would just bloody fall sleep to that sound.

Someone died. I’m sure of it. Dunno who, but a bunyip ain’t gonna be gentle when it’s hungry. Or pissed. Given how out of place it is, I’m bettin’ on both. I’ve got to do somethin’. Maybe kill it. Has anyone killed a bunyip before? Ever? I’ll have to look that up. I ask the lads if they know anyone else from Australia. They point me in the direction of a woman who looks aboriginal. Calls herself Captain Cook, if you’d believe it. Oh, she’ll be a great help if she’s up for it. 

The boys start callin’ to me as I make my way over to her. Wait, where you going? I pause, twist around to face them with my eyebrows shot up. I’m not just gonna sit on me arse while people are being mauled. Not anymore. I’m done with fallin’ asleep to the sound of murder. I’m in front of the Captain now. From the look on her face she’d heard the convo. She smiles and shakes her head. So, you really wanna have a go at a bloody bunyip, you stupid bugger? I smile back.

Well, I say, I ain’t here to fuck spiders.


anonymous asked:

Hi, i read about 26 times your FAQ to make sure im not doing anything to upset or make you comfortable, but please if you can, a biker AU kylo? After seeing some stuff of the TROK 3 i just imagined him with the knights and riding through the streets, dating a really sweet RC and etc. Thank you if you do! ❤️ -🌞

Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to read through the FAQ, I really really appreciate it. That being said, I unfortunately don’t really accept AU submissions from people, I prefer to come up with them myself – however, this is actually one I’ve been toying with for a little while, so please enjoy these headcanons! 


Originally posted by poerobots

  • Kylo Ren is a phantom almost, a ghost, on the streets. He and his gang rip through the pavement, tear into the night on their bikes, all modded in some way, all custom built. 
  • They’re big, big and terrifying, men and women who could snap your neck if you looked a them wrong, if you fucked around in their territory. They kept their corner of town in check, and they did a damn good job of it – so good of a job, that no one ever saw them engage in any sort of illegal activity. 
  • But there was, of course illegal activity. In the night the sound of splitting bones and cracking cartilage filled back alleys, the smell of gasoline hung in the air behind bars. Blood washed away on the pavement in the rain, shattered glass from broken bottles swept to the side near the shop fronts. 
  • They’re not nice people, not really. But they’re nice to you, because Kylo’s nice to you, because Kylo loves you. You had met during an unfortunate circumstance, a bar fight at your defense, Kylo slamming some jackasses head into the bar top for drugging your drink. Thankfully you hadn’t taken a sip of it yet, but it was close, too close of a call. 
  • That had been the start of an inevitable fall into love, even though he’d never admit that’s what it is. You hadn’t expected someone like him, someone so tall and broad, wrapped up in black leather and silver metal, angry scar splitting his furrowed brows – wouldn’t have ever expected someone like him to be as soft as he is when he’s around you. 
  • He smokes too much, drinks maybe too much, gets into too many fights. But he tucks you against his chest, brings you gifts and holds your hand with bruised knuckles of his own. He takes you on the bike – and takes you on the bike – and shows you the world, shows you all that he has to offer. 
  • He and his gang dedicate themselves to protecting you, to keeping you happy. 
  • And when you hear the engines roaring past your window late at night, you don’t grumble and push your pillow over your head. 
  • No, now you simply blow a kiss to your Knights in shining armor, a kiss to your man, Kylo Ren.

Big Cats (Hybrid!Jimin Au) Part 8

It took you all of one second to shove the straps of your purse in your mouth and start running, all but falling onto your hands as you barely manage to shift in time to have your paws help you gain momentum. You hear a growl behind you and realize the man had shifted as well and was most likely on the brink of rampaging.

“Shit shit shit shit” Was the only thought on repeat as you maneuver through streets and allies, trying to get somewhere, anywhere, safe. Your only option was to find another big animal to scare him off and the only ones you could think of were Yoongi and Jin. A snarl rips from your throat as teeth sink into your hind leg as you turn a corner, only a minute away from Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon’s apartment.

You drop your bag and turn on the wolf, emitting a roar hopefully loud enough for Yoongi to hear and recognize. The wolf’s eyes were zeroed in on your neck and you force yourself not to freeze in terror. If he manages to sink his teeth into that one area on your neck, you’ll be mated to him for life.

You decide to lunge before he could decide on how to attack you and tackle him to the ground, claws digging into his shoulders. He kicks you off with a whine as well as he could, considering you weigh nearly as much as him in your animal form.

His jaws snap at your neck and dig into your shoulder, but he quickly releases with a whine when you scratch at the sensitive span of his stomach. Half the time wolves are all talk and will leave as soon as they realize they can’t win.

This wolf must have been desperate though, because as you turn to continue running, he bites your leg again, blood rapidly filling his mouth as you kick your leg back into his face. Another roar sounds in the night as you turn around, shoulders squared, ready to pounce.

Seconds before the wolf could prepare for your attack, a screech sounds and you watch in amazement as an owl scratches the shit out of the wolf’s head, moments before you were flanked by a bear and a tiger. You had to fight your own urge to flinch as the two roar and the Wolf cowers, before running away. With a tired lick against Yoongi’s chest, you let yourself slump against him, passing out within seconds from the exhaustion and your wounds.


“He’s been here since last night?” Yoongi asks as he enters the local hospital with Jin, holding a bouquet of bright purple flowers. “Yeah, I got here two hours ago” Namjoon replies, glancing over at Jimin, who was talking to Hoseok, who had also just arrived. “Is she awake?” Jin questions and Namjoon turns to see Jimin sprinting towards your room, ignoring the amused smile of the doctor before him. “You three brought her here?” After receiving a nod from the three boys in front of him, he smiles. “Good thing you got her here so quickly. She’s fine save for some wounds on her leg and shoulder, it was the blood loss that affected her. She’ll be a bit sore, but she’ll heal quickly”

Jimin enters your room and smiles when he sees you drinking from a glass of water. “How do you feel, tough guy?” He asks, resting a hand on your knee as he reaches your side. “Gross, tired and in the mood for a cuddle” You answer, probably still hyped up on pain medication. Jimin smiles, but decides to wait for the others to visit you before shifting for you. One by one, your friends enter your hospital room, some with flowers, others with chocolate. Jin even cooked you lunch and packed it nicely in a cute box with tiny pandas on it.

“You’ll heal quicker with proper food” He had said as Yoongi hands her the bouquet of flowers with a small smile. Namjoon and Hoseok both gifted her chocolate from themselves and Jungkook and Taehyung, who were planning to come by that night. “I’ll be fine by the winter showcase next weekend” You assured Jimin as he shifts and jumps up onto your bed to cuddle. He mewls and spreads out across your chest to sleep, purrs rumbling in his throat.

anonymous asked:

lams angsty oneshot prompt — john is terrified of the dark, so one night when the power unexpectedly goes out he gets a panic attack and alexander calms him down :')

Lams fuels my heart, it really does. I love Lin, but God do I pray he never discovers my one shots.


John and Alex weren’t the perfect couple. They had arguments, Alex had severe anxiety due to his past with the hurricane and abandonment. John had PTSD from the way his father treated him and his siblings, the punishments he’d receive for stepping a toe out of line.

They made it work though - whenever Alex was panicking or going through a rough patch, John knew how to calm him. Know how to hold him so he didn’t panic at contact, knew the songs his mother used to sing to him, played with his hair, treated him the way he knew helped the best.

Alex knew how to help John. Whenever he’d panic, flashbacks plaguing his mind when he’d accidentally break something, Alex could coax him out of his mind, assuring him accidents happened and John was fine. 

They’d lived together for a few months now - actually tomorrow would be their nine month anniversary but who was counting - and life had been going quite well. Their bed was soft enough to where that’s where they’d retreat when needed, firm enough for their more intimate moments, and cozy enough for lazy Sundays.

It was late at night - or early in the morning John wasn’t completely sure - it was so dark, no stars shining, no moon illuminating their room. He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, eyes still blurry and head swimming with sleep. He looked to his right, Alex face down, arms curled to his chest like a baby, mouth parted slightly as he slept. John felt a sleepy smile spread on his face, laying back down, feeling Alex cuddle into the warmth of his body.

Thunder roared through the night, causing his blood to turn to ice, eyes widening as he realized what had woken him up. Lightning lit up the room, Alex stirred slightly, eyes blearily opening, head tilting up slightly. He caught sight of John -  eyes wider than ever, body sat rigged. He leaned over to his side of the bed, flicking the lamp. 

Nothing. Squinting in confusion, he tried again, nothing. The power went out. He turned back to John, who had grabbed a pillow, holding it tightly to his chest. “Oh God…” His voice was horse, basically a whimper. 

“John, hey hey,” Alex sat up, coo’ing quietly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re laying in bed with me, see? Feel the soft blanket? Remember you wanted the black one but I made us get blue, see, here.” He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.

“D-Dad…h-he would, when a-a storm hit and I-I’d be, the dark! He-He’d lock me in the c-closet and - and it was so dark, oh God.” He had pulled his knees up to his chest, biting his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I know baby I know, but he’s not here. You’re in our apartment, we live a few floors below Herc and Laf. Eliza and Maria live a few blocks down, your siblings live only a few minutes away. Your dad’s not here. He’s not gonna come - he’s never going to hurt you again.”

Alex hopped off their bed, rushing to the small closet. He tore through it blindly, grabbing the soft plushie John had for years - a gift from his mother when he was younger - finding the shaped light as he came back.

He handed John the stuffed turtle, pulling the taller man to his chest. He pushed the button, letting small illuminated stars cover their ceiling. “See? It’s not that bad - you’re laying in a soft bed that cost more than both of our income combined and is bigger than our kitchen.”

John’s face, stuffed down in his blanket, he laughed a bit, small and quiet. Alex signed, wishing the storm would pass soon. He checked the time. 

3:21 AM.

He kissed John’s curls, laying his head against his, running his hands up and down John’s arms.

“Do you wanna talk baby?” He shook his head, shaking slightly as thunder sounded.

Alex’s own anxiety was acting up - he could feel it in his chest, in his mind - but he pushed it away, knowing John was having a harder time than he was. “Do you want me to tell you a story?” Some nights John would request stories, forbidden lovers, happy endings, comedies, anything to distract him.

Another shake of the head. 

Almost shly, John whispered. “Can you sing to me?”

“Yeah, yeah course baby boy. Do you have any requests?” He shrugged, and Alex tightened his hold around him.

He thought for a few moments, before a song came to mind. 

“You make me smile,
You make me sing,
You make me feel good everything,
You bring me up,
When I’ve been down,
This only happens when you’re around.”
John smiled, head coming up more so from the blanket fort he’d made around himself.

Thunder roared, lightning flashing angrily, and the lights from their room and he could see through the windows flickered.

“And I can’t go on this way,
With it stronger every day,
But being too shy to say,
That I really love you.”

“You’re never shy…” John snorted quietly, and Alex grinned, running his hands through his hair.

“I want to fly
Away with you,
Until there’s nothing more for us to do,
I want to be
More than a friend,
Until the end of an endless end.”

The storm outside roared, the rain poured, but John was safe. He was warm, held in Alex’s arms, Alex’s sweet voice singing to him.

“And I can’t go on this way
With it stronger every day
But being too shy to say
That I really love you.”

“I really love you too…” John mumbled, kissing Alex’s stomach, loving the bit of pudge his boyfriend had gained.

Alex had moved to lay back, running his hands through John’s hair. “I’ll never be too shy to show I love you…”