nice bloke

You have this… friend. Really nice bloke, buys you a beer when you’re feeling down, kills the people who’ve wronged you, etc. You don’t actually know his name though.

Ambiguous Love

Hi friends! I spent so much time with this story and love it very much. Hopefully you will too. 
Songs that inspired this incase you wanna listen to them: 
-Aint Me by Kygo
-Attention by The Weeknd
-Comes & Goes by Greg Laswell

Request: Kinda, it’s about H being jealous but the main plot is from me. 
Warning: Mild curse language and lots of heart break. 

Gif isn’t mine and I would probably melt if he were to look at me like this.

A sour taste on his tongue combined with foul thoughts clouding his mind was what let him know that something was very wrong with him.

Harry was aware that his eyes weren’t supposed to stare at the guy standing close to Y/N as if he was murdering him in his head over and over again, even when that was just what was going on. With narrowed eyes he watched the foreign male touch his hand to her back in a far too intimate gesture as he laughed at something she’d said. How dare he do that?
Harry sat with his back to the kitchen as he watched her where she stood in the living room. He made a mental note to remind Jeff not to invite this guy again next time he held a small get together at his place.
Harry’s jaw tensed. Y/N was his. He was the only male she should give her attention to. The only one who should have his hands on her.

The guy wasn’t anybody Harry knew by name and he was sure to never bother to learn it either. He knew the guy was somebody who’d come around to these kind of parties a couple of times already and every time he was lingering around Harry’s Y/N the moment he had the chance. Harry did not like that one bit. Hot jealousy rushed through his body and with one last sip from his beer he got to his feet.

This needed to stop. He knew that it was him who caused Y/N to be alone and without a boyfriend and he wasn’t oblivious to how upsetting that was to her at times. This was unfair he knew but somehow Harry couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty. Other guys weren’t blind and found Harry gawking at the girl they were trying to chat to more than just intimidating, so with the majority of them one glare sufficed for their hands to pull away and leave Y/N’s smooth skin.
Harry felt like his behavior was justified. There was no way he could let his Y/N fall for a man who surely wouldn’t adore her enough. Harry wouldn’t ever allow Y/N to have a male’s hands on her body who couldn’t possibly be as tender with her as she deserved. If this meant Y/N would be alone and have no-one but Harry to love on her then so be it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and began to walk over to where she was, his mind busy trying to come up with an excuse to steal her away. The unknown guy noticed Harry’s presence before Y/N did and like the rest of the flirtatious males he withdrew his touch from her almost instantly.
Harry didn’t say anything, not even when the guy greeted him with a polite smile. Instead he took hold of Y/N’s small hand, giving her fingers a tight squeeze before he began to pull her away from the bloke and towards the kitchen where he knew they would find some peace and quiet.
Slowly Harry relaxed. Feeling her warm skin in his palm and being able to just pull her closer and into his side where he could breathe her in… it had a smile pull at his lips.

With quick feet the girl hurried after him.

“What’s wrong?” her kind voice wondered once her friend pulled her into the deserted kitchen and she gasped quietly when his hands forced her up against the counter.

With discomfort written all over her face she pressed her hands against his chest so he would allow her to move away from the cold counter and closer into him.

“Ouch,” she complained quietly, “What the matter, Harry? Are you okay?”

„Who was that?“ Harry’s words were spoken was rough and lower than he intended and both of his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Y/N’s expression softened. “Harry, you can’t tell me that you don’t like Craig either. You haven’t even spoken to him. He’s quite nice, you know?”

„Quite nice?“ Harry repeated, stepping closer to her body, pushing her right back against the counter, „Huh? Was that bloke quite nice to you then?”

„Yes,“ Y/N tried to argue, her hands brushing up against his shoulders in an attempt to calm him, „And I don’t like how you always make me feel as though I need your approval when I talk to a guy.“

Harry swallowed hard. With a sigh he raised his hand and her body relaxed when his palm touched her cheek gently.

„You don’t need my permission. Of course you don’t.” He sighed before shaking his head, a deep frown on his forehead as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. The words were right there on his tongue.
“S’just… I don’t like it, you know? You with another guy.”

“Why?” Y/N wondered, her hands squeezing his shoulders, “I wouldn’t let anybody treat me badly, you know that. There’s neither reason to be protective nor worried.”

At that he rolled his eyes. Oh how wrong she was. As wrong as one could be. “That’s not what’s bothering me. How could anybody mistreat you?”

And he meant it then. How could anybody hurt the girl standing in his arms? She was so utterly kind without ever demanding anything in return. Her heart beat for the people she loved and it melted his own when she looked at him like he was all she could see.
That was what he was so afraid of losing. Losing to somebody else.

“Not with you gawking at every move either of us make, no,” Y/N giggled, again not understanding just how deep the meaning behind his words was.

With a sigh rumbling through his chest he stepped closer, his hands finding her wrists and she whined when he forced her arms up with a gentle but swift yank so they would wrap around his neck. A satisfied hum escaped his lips and he closed his eyes. Catching on to what he wanted she wound her fingers through his soft curls and pressed a loving kiss to his cheek when he stepped close enough for them to be embracing tightly. Y/N laughed quietly.

“Harry, love, how much did you have to drink?”

“A beer,” he grumbled truthfully, a frown forming, “Can’t a man get some love from his favorite girl without being accused of anything?”

“Of course he can,” she replied in a whisper, her heart beating so fast she feared it might fly right out of her chest and away into the sky. She tightened her hold around his shoulders and shivered when he moaned at the sensation of her fingers scratching the back of his neck.

Harry pressed his mouth to her neck. “Do we have to go back?”

“To the party? Yes,” she giggled against his jaw, “But we don’t have to stay that much longer.”

This pleased him. “Good. Don’t want you near Craig.”

“Hey, you just said that you agree with me not needing your permission for what I do.”

Harry pulled back and looked at her with arched brows. “So you want to do-”

She groaned and shook her head rapidly with her eyes squeezed shut. “No, I don’t want to do anyone so don’t even start.”

Reluctance gnawed at his insides but he forced himself to step out of her hold anyway. She was right. He needed to let her have space. Y/N gave him a warm smile before leaning up to press another kiss to his skin, this time his cheek.

“Harry, please…” she spoke softly, her lips brushing his cheek, “I really want to finally meet somebody, you know? And maybe Craig is going to ask me out so… don’t scare him away.”

There was nothing he could say.
Harry’s heart sank when he watched her step away from him and walk back into the living room where he knew Craig awaited her already. And sure enough when Harry followed, discomfort flooding his body, he saw the male he already disliked greatly smile and hold out a hand for Y/N. Greedily he grabbed her fingers and brought them to his wet lips, a sight that made Harry’s stomach turn. Surely Y/N didn’t like this behavior either, he thought and true enough Y/N’s smile wasn’t all honest. The guy squeezed her shoulder before saying something that made her laugh and for a moment Harry could actually feel himself wanting to punch the guy blue. A feeling Harry was not used to at all.
Harry wasn’t a fighter. He was a lover. But oh if Y/N didn’t provoke a side out of him he hadn’t known before.  
Fuck it.
Harry’s feet carried him towards his Y/N before his mind could catch up and in few quick strides he reached her. His hands found her shoulders, squeezing and rubbing them soothingly to get her to turn around and face him.

“Harry?” she wondered, surprise and confusion written all over her features, “What’s wrong now? Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Craig.” Harry breathed the words dedicated to the male standing behind Y/N but his eyes never left her lovely face.

They heard Craig ask what Harry was sorry for but neither of them got to reply before Harry leaned down and connected his mouth with Y/N’s warm lips. It took a lot of bravery not to pull away when he felt the girl gasp and her entire body go rigid. His heart beat so heavily in his chest and his head was dizzy but he refused to stop kissing her and instead continued to move his lips against hers with as much pressure as he dared. It was when he felt the soft touches of her hesitant fingers agains his neck that he knew he’d won. Sure enough she began to return his kiss, moaning and whining against him quietly whilst she allowed her arms to wrap around his neck.
Harry could have rejoiced.
Y/N’s lips were soft, warm and fitted so perfectly against his own he wondered how he hadn’t kissed her before. Her body cuddled into his as if she were his missing puzzle piece and he liked how well his own arms wrapped around her waist. She gasped when his tongue poked into her mouth and he sighed deeply upon getting to kiss her properly. His hands grasped her neck, the back of her head before letting them drop to her backside where he allowed himself to hold onto her in the least groping way he could.
His heart swelled when he heard her giggle softly and he moaned upon feeling her hands move across his shoulders.

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but also like has anyone given thought to like…the casting reveal on Sunday is going to literally change the way we think about DW as a brand for the next few years? This isn’t a decision Steven Moffat is making. We have no idea what Chibnall has in store for the show. We don’t know his stance on tone, on diversity, nor on a female doctor. There’s no way of knowing. With Moffat, there was. Whoever is cast on Sunday, Chibnall will be giving us a statement regarding what his version of the show is. He casts a Kris Marshall, and we know his era is going to be regressive, bland, backwards looking. He Casts a Jodie Whittaker, or a Michaela Coel, or a Sacha Dhawan, or a Hayley Atwell, or a Paapa Essiedu, and we know he’s truly going to push the show in a bold direction. What happens on Sunday is literally make or break situation and I am so nervous.

Recently, I’ve been really getting into Taylor Swift. I love Taylor Swift a lot. I saw her twice on the 1989 Tour. No, no joking. I’m a big fan of lyrics and I like songs that make me feel.
—  Jimmy “The King of Goths” Havoc, British professional wrestler
Light

Genre: fluff
Wordcount: 645  
Summary:  “I’ve never been great at drinking, I think. And Crowley, Snow, I think I’m a little drunk on you.”                                                 

-Baz-

I’ve never been great at drinking. I think it has something to do with the vampirism and my body just absorbing everything a lot quicker than regular people would. Snow is worse, however.

He’s just had his second shot of Vodka, and his cheeks are already flushed, eyes glinting. And he would probably kill me if he knew that most of the time I still call him Snow in my head.

I feel a warm flutter every time I look at him now. He’s half sitting, half sprawling on the grubby, old sofa that Penny brought to their London flat, and he’s listening to one of her stories about her trip to America that she has just returned from. Micah is sitting next to her, one of his hands absently resting on her plump thigh. He’s a nice bloke; quiet, with lovely dark skin and a pretty smile. They’re beaming, the two of them. I wonder if Simon and I beam like that, too.

Penny’s story is something about Florida and merewolves and alligators. I think it’s supposed to be funny, but I don’t really listen to it. My head feels fuzzy.

For a moment, I think back to my fifth year at Watford; the endless nights spent down in the catacombs. Back when Simon and I were still sworn enemies and all my dreams were of blood and gore and tears. And some sad wanking I wasn’t particularly proud of. Back when I thought that one day, I’d have to die at the hands of the chosen one. Or worse: kill him.

I would drink on those nights. I smuggled bottles of expensive brandy that father kept away in our family home cellar, where they’d collect a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. And then I’d sit there, next to my mother’s grave, casting “There’s light at the end of the tunnel!” just to brighten the crypt a little and grimacing at the irony of those words.

The first time I drank, I got wasted. In hindsight, I probably should have known that mixing roastbeef, rats’ blood, and brandy wasn’t going to end well. It was vile. Even for me.

I scoffed back then, wiping my mouth and trying not to breath in too deeply, staring at the glimmer slowly swirling under the ceiling, then at the drained rats. There’s light at the end of the tunnel” , I’d think. My ass!

In some of those nights, I’d crawl back into bed just before sunrise and lay there, listening to Snow’s slow, steady breaths, whilst my bed started spinning and my face felt numb.

I’d watch him; how the sun would slowly creep up on him through our windows (the idiot would never shut them, just to take the piss), and it would paint his mess of a hairstyle golden, red and orange. You’re burning me , I’d think. You’re the only fire I can’t figure out how to handle .

He’s still burning me now, even without his magic. Here in his living room, listening to Penny. And he’s laughing and grinning and just beaming .

Later into the evening, I kiss him on his forehead. Maybe on his cheeks and his nose and lips, too, just because I’m that weak. Or maybe just because I like kissing him there. He’s kissing me, too. And doing that nice thing with his chin, smoothing the hair off my neck and brushing his hands over my arms.

I’ve never been great at drinking, I think. And Crowley, Snow, I think I’m a little drunk on you.

The room is dark, but I see his face in front of me; so clear and bright that I’m almost sure that there has to be a little bit of magic left inside him. He’s incandescent.

There’s light at the end of the tunnel , I think, and I kiss him once more.


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Wrong Place Wrong Time- The Aftermath (1)

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF!
Do not reuse, edit or copy and of my work(s). ©
Part 1 of an ongoing sequel, enjoy :)
A fanfic for a more Mature audience due to violence and language. Read at your own risk :)

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language and Adult themes.)

Summary: The Sequel to Wrong Place Wrong Time: Life after the death of Red.
Main Characters include: Reader and EXO.

Click for WPWT(1) 
Part 2 Part 3  Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22-Finale

Word Count: 1,844 (-ish)


It had been a year since you had really seen the majority of the other men. Quite a lot had happened during this period of time. The most important being that you and Minseok had gotten married, it was arguably the best thing that happened to you in life. Your parents were extremely confused when you suddenly introduced him to them. You had lied saying you had met him at your new workplace. To say they weren’t happy was an understatement. Their daughter had gone missing for a couple of months and all of a sudden she wanted to get married it all seemed slightly rushed, and you couldn’t blame them because it’s true, it was rushed, but you had never been so sure of anything in your life and you were not backing down so eventually they had to accept what you wanted. It’s not that they didn’t like Minseok; they always stated that he seemed a ‘nice enough bloke’ but the whole concept of marriage at the age of 23 didn’t sit well with them, but truthfully you couldn’t be happier. Minseok made you extremely happy and that’s all that really mattered at the end of the day. You had been married for just under two months now; you lived in a cute cosy house in a quiet area. You had accessed your savings from your job before you entered that mad house, on top of that you were both earning enough in order to live comfortably, it was nothing too fancy, but it was something that you both liked and it was home. After the life you’d lived last year silence was the only thing you craved and so did Minseok. He was glad that he could finally call you his. He never went a day without reminding you that you belonged to him and he was so glad that you had given him a new start. You went to Church with him every Sunday and visited the graves of his parent’s right after the service. It had become routine and it put the both of you at peace. It was weird visiting the place Minseok had opened up to you weekly, only this time around you were his wife and he loved you more than he could possibly put into words.
The wedding that the two of you had had was small. Really small. The only guests present were your parents, Mia, Chanyeol and Sehun. The rest of the boys didn’t make it and apparently Minseok said that they had reasons for it, but you still weren’t too sure what those ‘reasons’ were. Quite frankly you thought that their absences were rude, especially Baekhyun’s but you learnt to push your hurt away into the deepest darkest corner of your mind, just like all the other hurtful memories you had accumulated over the time you’d spent in that house.

You had caught up with Chanyeol once or twice, but not as much as you would have expected to, partly because you were now a married woman and because Chanyeol had started dating. Since you were trying to get your lives on track, Chanyeol had gotten a new job at an elementary school as an assistant teacher and had fallen head over heels for one of his colleagues. You were so happy for him because he was an absolute sweetheart and he deserved all the happiness he could get in life. You knew that if it hadn’t been for you loving Minseok maybe it could’ve been Chanyeol he was the most caring man you’d ever met and so his happiness meant that you were happy. As for Sehun you would see him the most, he was still practically joint at the hip to Minseok, always visiting your home. But he had slowed it down a bit after you had gotten married, he realised that the both of you needed ‘time’ to yourselves.

You heard through the grapevine that Junmyeon was married however you and Minseok couldn’t make it as you were on your honeymoon, why he scheduled the wedding at that time you didn’t know. Honestly you were slightly displeased with him because there was nothing more you wanted to see than Junmyeon happy, especially since the last time you had seen him when he tried to burn all of you alive, he was an utter wreck, you just hoped that whoever she was she was treating him right and loved him unconditionally because that’s all these broken men needed. They needed something like what you and Minseok had, because honestly it was intense and special.
You and Minseok had been living a pretty comfortable life and for the most part you were extremely happy, but lately he had been coming home pretty late, he always seemed somewhat tired and flushed and you couldn’t help but think there was someone else. You had only been married two months, was he getting bored of you already, maybe he realised that you weren’t what he wanted? Maybe he only needed you to break down his walls and that was it. You tried shaking the thought from your mind multiple times, ignoring his late returns but it kept creeping back to the forefront of your brain, until one night when the both of you were in bed relaxing, you‘d decided that you’d had enough of it.

“Min…” You wavered slightly, wondering if you should ask him the question, surely he was innocent and you were just overreacting, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings and start an unnecessary argument.

“Mmm?” He was focused on the tablet that he was holding in his hand, scrolling through the dozens of emails he’d received earlier in the day. For some reason this got you angry, he wouldn’t even focus his full attention on you even when he spent less and less time with you. You weren’t a clingy woman, but Minseok’s behaviour was slowly spiralling downwards and there was only so much that you would allow yourself to take.

“Where do you go so late at night?” You spat the question out, your voice laced with venom. Minseok frowned, placing his tablet down on the bedside table and turned his head to look at you.

“Babe…what? When I get home you’re already asleep.”He answered, you knew Minseok well and you could already sense a lie in whatever ‘version of truth’ he thought he was telling you.

“No! Don’t give me that shit Minseok! Don’t act like you just come in right after I fall asleep because you sure as heck don’t! Do you have any idea how long I wait up for you?! You slip into bed at like 3AM and think I don’t notice. You’re supposed to be my husband Min; you’re supposed to be loyal.”

“No, babe. I promise you it’s not what it looks like. I want to tell you but I can’t…” He shook his head, lightly taking your hand in his, but you pulled away.

“No Minseok! This isn’t okay. Why can’t you tell me where you’re going then, doesn’t that sound dodgy to you? We’ve been married only two months Min. Two months. And you’re already screwing other girls. We waited until marriage Minseok; you shouldn’t be bored of me already! What am I doing so wrong? Am I not satisfying enough?” You didn’t even realise the involuntary tears rolling down your cheek until a tear splashed onto your hand.

“Babe, no, stop it. Of course you’re enough for me; you’re enough and so much more.”

“Then why won’t you tell me where the fuck you go Kim Minseok!”
You had enough of the sweet talk and your body was shaking violently, you thought you meant more to him than this. Everything was going swimmingly well, why did he have to do this to you when you were putting your everything into this marriage.

“Y/N if I tell you, then you’ll be mad at me, life will spiral downhill again and we won’t be happy! Is that what you want?!”
Why was he twisting this on you, as though it was your fault that he was returning home early hours of the morning, cheaters always do have a way of making the innocent party look guilty, but you weren’t going to let him win.

Just as you were about to give him a piece of your mind. You heard the front door knock. The both of you froze, turning your heads to the direction that the knock was coming from. It was 3AM; who could be possibly knocking at this time. You frowned rising from the bed.

“No Y/N, don’t get that.” Minseok reached over to your side of the bed grabbing your wrist, but you pulled it out of his grip and advanced out of the room.

“Why, are you scared it’s the whore you’ve been fucking? Scared that she followed you home Min? That you’ll be exposed?” You laughed sarcastically and coldly not turning back to look at him. “I swear if it’s Melanie I’ll kill her with my bare hands.”

You walked over to the front door of your house swinging it open and talking faster than your brain could think.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing here but he’s married, so you can sling your hoo—What? Yixing?”
You paused staring at him. You were stunned to say the least and let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, it had been a year since you’d seen him and although you no longer felt anything towards him even remotely, you had to admit that he looked more handsome than he did before.

“Y/N.” He smiled at you softly, his dimples making a subtle appearance. You had to admit that you had missed him a little bit and it was somewhat comforting to see him again and know he was okay.
“It’s been forever…you look…good.” He gave you a quick once over and you remembered you were wearing a satin crimson pyjama dress that Minseok had bought you not too long ago, making you cringe with embarrassment, you tried to cover yourself as best you could with your arms.

“You look good too.” You said back quietly. “But what are you doing at my house at this time of the day? It’s 3AM.”

“Actually I need to speak to Minseok, he’s in right?” He pushed past you softly walking into the open planned living room/ kitchen.

“Y/N, Y/N. I told you not to open the door…” You heard Minseok’s voice in the distance gradually getting louder the closer he got to where you were stood. “Leave it and come back to bed, God knows who—Yixing?” Minseok’s eyes opened widely for a second or two, then returned his gaze back to normal. “What are you doing here Yixing?” He bit his lip nervously. What was going on, and why wasn’t Minseok as stunned as you to see Yixing when you both hadn’t seen him in a whole year.

“Min, it’s Luhan.” Yixing frowned.


“He’s alive. He’s Back.”

old T-shirt

MASTERLIST

A/N : For my first ever Harry one shot, I hope this is good and does ‘From The Dining Table’ justice.

Word Count : 1700+

Summary : Harry sees a picture of Y/N on her new boyfriends Instagram, and it breaks his heart.

                                                       * * *

Light cascades through the half turned blinds, torching the room inside and revealing tiny dust particles dancing around Harry’s head. Behind his translucent eyelids he stirs as a disgruntled huff escapes his chapped, raw lips and the sour taste and smell of alcohol and cheap, sweaty sex floods Harry’s nostrils before he’s taken his first breath. 

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❥❥ BEING IN LOVE WITH JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER WOULD INCLUDE ❥❥

 [2 of 3 — Dating the <G O O D> Marauders]

Originally posted by h-opless

Originally posted by pleasingpics

❅ You’d originally thought the world would have to end before James Potter ever showed you interest. You were the quirky Gryffindor that Lily always allowed to tag along with her. You never associated yourself with him, but you never went so far as to think of him as an arrogant toe-rag.

❅ There were a lot of nevers and a lot of what-ifs. So many that sometimes, you wish you’d never fallen in love with him, even for all the trouble you two went through to be happy.

❅ You met on the train, and though you didn’t notice, his eyes were never trailing after Lily. He was always looking at you, never your redheaded companion—unless he felt the need to bug the hell out of her by asking her out in rather obnoxious ways. Just so you’d notice him… just so he could catch your eye and throw you a smile.

❅ He was fit. He had amazing friends—people you’d see in class or pass by on the way to the Great Hall, ones that would smile at you and give you a “Hullo,” even if it was flirtatious or basically a nonchalant greeting.

❅ The Marauders, they were called; a group of boys, all masterminds of their own right. James was always the leader, Remus the planner, and Sirius the comic relief, as well as the executive director.

❅ Sometimes you liked to watch them in the halls just to see if they’d pull a prank. You were always wanting to be a spectator—even if Lily constantly told you there wasn’t any use in fawning over a group of insolent gits.

❅ “They’re nice blokes, Lily.”
   “Tell that to Severus.”

❅ In fifth year, you were one of the laughing spectators when Severus was strung up by James. You never particularly liked Severus; you thought he was rather rude, constantly giving you glares when you interrupted private time spent with Lily. So you laughed along, not really caring how painful and humiliating an experience it must have been.

❅ After Lily came and threatened James into releasing his magicked hold on Severus, the anger fueling him from the encounter made him turn his gun on Lily… and Y/N.

❅ “I don’t need protection from Mudbloods like you! And you, little miss Y/N, thinking you can laugh all you want at someone else’s pain when no one even cares for you! Can’t even perform magic without asking for tips from the professors! Stupid, insolent little Mudblood.”

❅ You were in tears and choking back sobs. Even Lily was stricken silenced at the hate and hostility seeping through Severus’s tone. And this was the first time you’d ever seen James genuinely angry.

❅ “Apologize to her! Right now, Snivellus!”

❅ Severus had glared at him and snidely asked, “Which one?”

❅ “Y/N! Apologize to her, now. Or you’ll be strung up for all of Scotland to see!”

❅ You were speechless and could feel a redness working its way up your cheeks, but you fought back the urge. You didn’t want James to know how much his words affected you. Never did you think he’d care enough to be angered by another person’s slights towards her.

❅ Severus refused to apologize, and James continued to hang him up like the sniveling dolt you all thought he was. Lily was screeching for them to put him down in the name of her prefect badge, but neither of the participating Marauders were listening. They strung him up and laughed and laughed and laughed, and this time you hardly felt bad at all for smiling and laughing at all.

❅ After a professor came and retracted house points and gave detentions, you forced yourself to walk over to James. Once you made your way to him, you gave him a shy smile. “Thank you for standing up for me, James.”

❅ He looked like a kid on Christmas. His smile was brilliant and caused you to have pain in your heart. “No problem, love.”

❅ Love became a common endearment he used for you.

❅ You never expected for James to actually take time off his marauding schedule to actually come and talk to you. But he did.

❅ You didn’t have the heart or the courage to ask if he was merely using you as a way to get to Lily.

❅ One day, you finally did.

❅ “James…” you had said, a hesitant look on your face. “Can I ask you something?”

❅ He smiled at you, giving your kneecap a gentle squeeze. “Of course, love.”

❅ “Are you using me?” you finally spat out, not having the heart to look him in the eye. Due to this, you missed the hurt and disbelief that flickered through his eyes.

❅ He grabbed your chin and softly moved your head to face him. He was looking at you pleadingly. “Y/N, I would never do that to you. I… I fancy you, for Merlin’s sake! It’d kill me to do something as heartless as that to you.”

❅ You were in utter shock. You’d spent five years believing him to fancy Lily, and here he was, professing his feelings to you. You could feel your heart pounding in excitement.

❅ The moment you saw his head drop down from the embarrassment of his confession, you quickly grabbed his own chin and jerked at it to have his lips meet yours. And in that moment, you knew what it truly felt like to have reciprocated affections.

❅ After the two of you kissed, James quickly offered to take you out for a stroll through the Astronomy tower. You agreed with a smile.

❅ On this walk, he magicked a bouquet of roses and handed them off to you.

❅ “Y/N, would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend to forever have to hold?”
   “Of course, James. Nothing would make me happier.”

❅ Your last few years of Hogwarts were filled with love and compassion. You became great friends with Remus and Sirius; the two felt like the older brothers you never had.

❅ And James was a wonderful boyfriend. He never failed to show you affection, and every time he’d win a Quidditch game, you were the first person he’d go to see and receive congratulations from.

❅ He loved it when you wore his scarf on game-day. He especially enjoyed it when you painted his name on your face and cheered loudly and proudly for Gryffindor to win.

❅ The two of you never fought. You adored each other to the point of being in a chronic honeymoon-phase.

❅ His parents were also in love with you. They thought you were the perfect match for their son.

❅ A week after graduation, James asked for you to live with him. A month after graduation, he asked for your hand in marriage.

❅ Your wedding was the biggest affair. You invited everyone from your Hogwarts days, including some of the professors. Sirius was made best man, and you had Lily as your maid of honor.

❅ After your honeymoon, you found yourself pregnant.

❅ James was absolutely ecstatic when you told him the news. He jumped about and immediately had to go and tell everyone about it.

❅ Two months into your pregnancy, you and the boys decided to join the Order of the Phoenix. Though James and the boys were a little bit apprehensive about you joining, you managed to convince them that you’d play healer rather than an on-field fighter.

❅ Sending the boys out to the battle always had you biting your nails anxiously. You were afraid to think of Dumbledore arriving at the door with news of them being injured or dead.

❅ The worry actually sent you into an early labor at eight months. James rushed you to St. Mungo’s, where you spent over ten hours in pain.

❅ When you first saw the face of your child, you were filled with an instant joy that couldn’t be beat.

❅ You and James decided to name him Harry—his middle name James.

❅ “He looks just like you, darling.”
    “Has his mother’s eyes, though.”

❅ You two spent your short marriage happy and more in love than ever. You both adored your baby son Harry, and spent your time showering him with gifts and affection.

❅ When you died, you knew it was for a good cause. You knew it was to protect Harry—to give him a chance at a good life.

❅ And as he grew up, he came to know that if he had his family still with him, he would have been loved. He was loved.

❅ He knew his parents died bravely and full of good memories, and that was the one thing that gave him solace.

Dump the Chump

It has taken me 23 times to post this here cause I am old. For @petalstofish @elanev91 and @levins18 who think I am funny. Hope you laugh on this shit holiday. ON FFN ps. thanks for the prank and name elle

Sirius Black was in a major dilemma.

It was his 6th year and it was February 9th.

As was tradition in Marauder land, Sirius was responsible for the Valentines Day Prank.

Through a variety of circumstances, all of which could be blamed on someone else, Sirius found himself less than a week away from the prank with not a fucking inkling of a plan.

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Time Upon Once, Ch.3 (3/?)

Summary:  Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed  for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones for the banner!

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story: @lk0622 @nowforruin @sambethe @xemmaloveskillianx  @l-e-x-a-xd @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain and @icecubelotr44   (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II

ao3  ff.net

I know… it’s been ages. But I’m back to this story now! I cannot commit to a weekly update, because writing this fic is a lot of work that involves plotting, rewatches, tweaks, backstory and a huge amount of detail that is really draining for me. So bear with me. I will commit to have an update every two weeks.
All comments and reviews of encouragement will be highly appreciated

Chapter III

The sound of knocking at the door interrupted Killian’s first cup of coffee in the morning. He went to answer, still absentmindedly holding his mug in his right hand.

Regina was standing on the other side of the door, wearing a sensible grey dress and a coat, holding a basket full of red apples. She was poised to speak, but whatever words she had died on her lips the second she got a good look at him, her eyes widening as she trailed her gaze back and forth over his body. It was then that Killian realized he hadn’t bothered to put on his shirt before opening the door, his bare chest attracting the Mayor’s attention before she lowered her gaze appreciatively to where his jeans were hanging low on his hips. Killian contemplated acknowledging her interest with a suggestive remark, but he ultimately decided against it. He had zero intention of following up on those remarks with any type of dalliance with his son’s adoptive mother. Some doors - much like his heart - were better to remain closed. He settled for a soft clear of his throat and a raised eyebrow in her direction.

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