#all of these are posted to another blog of mine as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlegreenfag-archive · 2 days

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Regarding @littlegreenfag

Tldr: Adina, known by the Tumblr urls littlegreenfag and prksoda, has spent the past several years lying about many facets of their life. The list of lies includes, but is not limited to, being half manouche Romani, being Jewish, and being descended from Holocaust survivors.

I never wanted to have to do this. I’ve spent months trying my best to encourage Adina to come clean themself. My methods were not ideal. I should not have used anonymous messages. I used to be friends with them, I should've talked to them openly as their friend. I also should’ve attempted to be less aggressive at times, even though I think it is incredibly reasonable to have felt the way I felt when I was sending some of those messages. I understand and regret both of these things. Unfortunately, since Adina has deactivated @littlegreenfag, I cannot provide links or screenshots to every ask of mine that they responded to, only those I saved at the time. I will do this later, upon request. This post is already going to be enough of a monster without them.

Though the last day has been a complete nightmare, I am satisfied with one thing: Adina came clean about everything, even if not publicly. My worry was always with the though of having to reveal their personal information, as many of the things they’ve lied about would require me to, functionally, dox them. Though it's technically all public, I would much rather that no one who doesn't already have access to this information gain it.

So, why am I writing this post? For those of you who were on Adina’s blog last night, you may have seen this post. I was also able to save a capture of their blog on the Internet Archive. Here is a screenshot that I took around when the post was first published. Apologies for the formatting.

To summarize, Adina begins to by admitting to a small lie, that they were born in Chicago, before admitting that they had been lying about their race. Though it was not present at the time of the blog's deletion, I would like to note that Adina had the phrase "jewish and half-romani" in their blog's bio for a very long time. This phrase was quietly removed after I sent the first anon message telling them that I was aware of their lies, on March 16th 2024. This can be seen on the Wayback Machine, by looking at the capture taken on March 5th, 2024, in comparison to the capture taken on March 24th, 2024.

That is what you may have seen. However, it is not the only major lie Adina has told. After suggesting Adina should turn off anons, I sent them another ask with my blog name visible, telling them that I could tell everyone about the other lies for them, if they wished to log off and be done with it. They messaged me privately, and this is the resulting conversation.

I apologize for the block of images, but I figured it was necessary to include the entire conversation. Here, Adina openly admits to not being Jewish. Adina has spent months receiving social benefits for claiming to be Jewish, and they've even used this claim to support arguments. Truth be told, Adina has one Jewish great-grandfather. How Adina expected me to believe they would know about this without knowing his surname, I will never know. However, I should emphasize that Adina is not Jewish by the standards of any main movement of Judaism. Orthodox and Conservative look for an unbroken line of Jewish women, while Reform asks that you be raised Jewish by a Jewish parent. Adina is descended from a Jewish man who converted to Catholicism and raised his children Catholic.

Regarding the Holocaust claim, I understand hat Adina did not directly address this. I will say that I find it suspicious that they deactivated as soon as I mentioned it, but they technically never confirmed it was a lie. However, with the information that:

The ancestors they mention as being survivors or victims quite literally do not exist and

Their Jewish ancestor was born in the United States well before WWII

I believe it is quite safe to say this was also a lie. My screenshots of their claims come mostly from their Reddit account, which is now deleted.

It is absolutely ghoulish to me to create fake relatives so that you can pretend they were tortured and killed during the Holocaust. All to receive sympathy.

Though there are many, many other lies Adina has peddled, such as being a child of divorce and having a dead biological mother, I don't think any of them matter much in the grand scheme of things when these are the other lies that have been told.

It is also worth noting that this is a pattern of behavior from Adina. As some of you who followed them may know, back in 2019, a blog was created with the intent of calling them out for lies. Frankly, this blog, @prksodalies , is what put me on to Adina's trail in the first place. Though I believe that several of the things Adina was accused of on this blog are downright cruel to accuse someone of without evidence, the fact that there were so many smaller obvious lies made me very uneasy. What specifically made me curious was the post, here, where Adina claims that they are half Lebanese. Obviously, this did not make a ton of sense with the half Roma and half Ashkenazi Jewish Adina we all knew. As it turns out, this was one of the very few shreds of truth from Adina. They're a quarter Lebanese on their father's side, and other than that and a Jewish great-grandfather, are of mostly Polish and German descent.

This being a pattern of behavior, alongside the way Adina behaved in messages with me, tells me that this will likely unfortunately not be the last time this person creates a Tumblr blog with a fabricated life story. I feel immense guilt at the thought that they may continue to swindle and hurt people, and that I will never know or be able to help again.

To everyone who was friends with this person and has been hurt by their actions, I am truly, truly sorry. This has been an absolutely miserable experience for me and I can't imagine it's much different for any of you. If you have questions, I'll be available for a least a few hours. I do not want to share any of their personal information, but I will share what I need to (privately) if some of you need or want more information.

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mrs-snape5984 · 3 days

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„You’re not alone, together we stand. I’ll be by your side, you know, I’ll take your hand…”

“Just stay strong, ‘cause you know, I’m here for you…” (“Keep holding on” by Avril Lavigne)

I decided to set a trigger warning on this post: Miscarriages, high risk pregnancies, ICSI treatments, traumatic wish for a child journey, hysterectomy. So, please feel free to skip the following x paragraphs, if you feel triggered by these topics. Thank you.

Those of you lovely people of Snapedom, who know me and my way of blogging about Severus and my personal hardships might have noticed, that I’m mostly venting about ME/CFS and the crumbs, which are left from my former life. Since I can’t do much about it right now, I decided to “fix” another one of my countless issues…an internal wound, which desperately needs to heal!

As some of you might remember, I’m a mother of three wonderful children. There are my eleven years old twins and then there’s my six years old daughter. My pregnancies were the result of a long and painful journey of ICSI treatments, several miscarriages, way too many tears, about ten surgeries - due to Endometriosis and myomas - which eventually ended in a hysterectomy four years ago.

My desperate wish for a child led me to some decisions and life choices, which I probably wouldn’t have made, if I would have been clearer…maybe more stable in my whole mindset. One of these choices was a totally over rushed marriage to a narcissistic man, who made me believe, that he wanted the same. Gosh…I’ve been so desperate and so fucking stupid! Well, at least I got my twins because of him.

I went to the appointment for the transfer of the embryos on my own. He didn’t want to join the procedure…and I should have known, that he was already saying “goodbye” back then.

The pregnancy was rough. I had to lie in bed from the 8th week of pregnancy until they were born as premature babies in the 29th week of pregnancy. The last 4,5 months of pregnancy, I had to stay in the hospital…fighting for my babies’ lives all on my own. The father of them had decided, that he didn’t want to be a father anymore…wow…

I don’t want to go further into details about this phase of my life…at least not yet. I commissioned my friend @alinearthp for this project and asked her for several drawings of the different phases of my journey to become a mother. This artwork will be the start of my healing process…and I’m incredibly grateful, that you’re doing this for me, Aline! I know, that you’ll need time to draw all these wishes of mine, but I’ll be patiently waiting for each of your breathtaking pieces of art, my dear!

So, for the next couple of months, Severus will accompany me on my path through this phase of my past…just like he did back then, when I spent months in a hospital bed in “Trendelenburg” position. During this period of my life - and to be honest, in so many other phases of the past 21 years, as well - I clung to my imagination of Severus in order to feel less helpless and alone. His resilience and determination have always been my inspiration to keep going through all these hardships, which life kept throwing at me. He’s the love of my life…and he will forever be the guiding light in my darkness.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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featherburnt · 6 months

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Recent art.

#hellhound #all of these are posted to another blog of mine as well #also was pretty reliant on all my references but oh well #my art

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master-k0hga · 2 months

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| M A L I C E C I L |

[ Category: Misc OCs ]

| Another non related OC, think I showed him off last time but I re-drew him recently again cuz I didn't like the one before...

Anyways super awesome demon bf Mali, who, another OC I previously introduced, is dating Winston for like... Idk years- Winnie didn't believe he was an actual demon for like a whole year, people were telling him but he would've just shrugged it off... Til he finally believed Mali one day that the horns were not a headpiece-

But anyways, a wild ride their relationship first started out with, but funnily enough it never got worse.. It actually got better, Mali is usually the type of Demon to have fun, go out drinking, one night stands, groupies; All that, but Winston was an exception for him, like yeah he'll do his basic normal demon things, but he'll always be willing and happily come back to Winston, even plans one day to propose to him... Which he'll need to get a job for himself if he were to do that as a surprise.. Anyways-

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

INFO

Name: Malicecil Species: Demon General Personality: Perverted, cocky, confident, easy going, flirtatious, playful, funny, overall very welcoming, very chill Height: 9ft Relationship Status: In a relationship

Extra Info:

His age doesn't seem to be very easy to tell as he looks roughly in his late 20's/ early 30's all the time, but it's not a surprise that he is well older than that. Winnie himself was in complete shock when Mali just randomly walked up to him one morning and just whispered how old he was in his ear; Whether it was to sound impressive or just to see his reaction is of course another question however

As mentioned, he has in fact gotten arrested one time for driving while under the influence of alcohol. Apparently despite being a demon who could potential wreck havoc to the world one day if he snapped; He's so chill to the point where authorities can still get him done for human related crimes

Has an underworld form for whenever he ventures in and out of hell, or as most demons decide to call it; "The Underrealm", how he looks on the surface is the best he can ever get to looking more "human", despite him not looking THAT much different to his real look. He's literally only slightly taller and more brute built in his Underworld form

There are other demons who have socialised along with humans just like him, he even hangs out with them in clubs, going out for drinks and so forth while keeping it buddy-buddy; Humans aren't excluded from joining them if they ask, no discriminating here after all

Has gotten romantical with quite a few humans at LEAST dating back to the late 60's, unsure whether he has lived longer than that is unclear however as he refuses to acknowledge his life before that era

Has many forged ID's for every country; Why wouldn't he, he's a demon after all. Winston sometimes wonders how he manages to get himself into trouble before the problem is "seemingly forgotten"

Acts as Winston's personal mannequin when it comes to stylizing and tailoring; Mali enjoys it believe it or not, anything that makes his boyfriend smile is good enough for him

Despite being green, he actually likes the colour brown more

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

That's all I believe, didn't really have much for him at all honestly so with this was definitely a good time to delve a little deeper into his character... Most of my OCs are mainly just made because I've thought of them either for a purpose of another OC or just because my brain decides to go "I dreamt this" (kinda like the "I made this")

...

Anyways, I don't really have much to talk about this besides just the usual so I guess that's it really....? I'll just get on with trying to get on with my other OCs in the meantime and take a break from it with fan art from time to time.. I'll just hopefully get more refs done for the OC spam, since I know I won't be really doing much online these days so I'd rather not work on a drawing then post it immediately... And then having nothing else to post, especially when it takes me ages just to be happy with a sketch and finish it off..

... Oh well, whatever.

. Malicecil, Art © Me . DON’T RE-POST .

#MASTER-K0HGA #Ary / Kohga Chronicles #Ary / Kohga OCs and Works #Malicecil #Male #Fandomless #Misc OCs #My OC #My Art #Demon OC #Demon #My Character #Re-post #My art re-posted #I do enjoy the fact that I'm categorizing my OCs at this point #it does kinda help with trying to keep this blog organised and whatnnot #Especially when I tag said categories too... Makes it easier for me to search them via tags on this blog too!#Easier way to separate OC related art and fan art as well when I'm trying to quickly find another post of mine.. Especially older ones.#Anyways not much to say....Never is tbh with how dead online is always for me... I've been talking to myself for years online #So it'll never change for me. I won't ever be like. Busy others are online but that's cuz people are interested in what they do #And don't get randomly ignored or left behind for now reason at all other than cuz people get bored of you #Or have heard random bs about you that you've never heard of in your life.. Oh well............ Minding my own business #Not that anybody gave a shit about me in the firstplace anyways...... Mali the chill demon dude who's kinda awesome #...... And wish he was my real friend too... He'd probably be my only friend actually...

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thundertide · 6 months

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With the end of the Fontaine Archon quest, @yoroiis and I have decided it's time to do a little updating with info regarding our muses during it. This post is Kagota's side of her and Childe's time in Fontaine, and is canon to both my blog and @yoroiis. Spoilers for 4.0 through the end of 4.2 follow from here.

During much of the few months Kagota is in Fontaine prior to the Traveler's arrival, she's pregnant with their firstborn children, and dealing with the fact Childe isn't himself during a lot of their 'vacation', off and on snapping at her and trying to push her away like he would an enemy. She isn't sleeping and having dreams bordering on nightmares of Childe being a human-sized wind-up toy slumped on the ground, needing to be wound to function, but she can't wind him - she's too busy fighting off darkness trying to surround them, armed with thorn-covered vines trying to strangle them both. If she stops, they both die, but he's unable to function if she doesn't.

Eventually, a fight between them prompts Childe to confide in her something isn't right and that something feels like it's calling him, and he hasn't been able to use his vision properly. Trusting Kagota to be able to help him and fend off his mood swings, both towards her and others in their life, he gives her his vision for safekeeping, and she proceeds to wear it beside her own. Before this, she's gained a promotion to Operative and a delusion of her own, and as his right hand and wife, is tasked with keeping an eye on him.

Their daughters, Sofia Alyssa and Anastasia, are born not long after, and it's clear to her 'Childe' isn't the one there with her, but someone - something - else is. As weak as she is in the moment, she can't fight back to it prodding at her and bringing up her past, and more distance is created between them, putting a strain on the soulmate bond they share - Effectively cracking what was once a solid bond in their shared soul.

Because of their children, Kagota is unable to join him the day he meets the Traveler, and is not present for his trial. In fact, she is unaware he's even on trial and been found guilty until Kyros and the Traveler come to tell her personally, and Kagota does what she knows best - She fills in for Tartaglia in the meantime, hiding the fact her dreams have truly become nightmares alongside his being jailed. She's unaware the presence that's been 'calling' him and the attitude he's been fighting against her with are one in the same - The 'whale' coming to Fontaine.

Exhausted and drained of her strength, she is unable to cover for Childe's situation, especially when word leaks he's gone missing. Another visit from the Traveler to tell her of their next move has her giving them his vision under the promise they find him and bring it back, and while they're in Meropide, she's alerted to the fact the three kids she's grown close to - Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet - are also 'jailed'. Furious by everything going on and her inability to do more, she demands a meeting with Wriothesley as Tartaglia, and is denied due to his knowing the now missing Childe is Tartaglia.

Kagota realizes she's losing control of her own abyssal abilities and has been fighting against them, a well as discovering she's been feeling the same mood swings as Childe, which has had a heavy hand in her restlessness and inability to keep focused. It also becomes increasingly more clear to her she's not the only one tapping into their shared strength, and after a nightmare of him fighting in Foul Legacy form, she decides something's gone wrong, and the fact she can't leave to help him upsets her further - But does make her further realize the bond in their soul is also on its last leg just like her, and that she's been subconsciously fighting whatever has been causing the break.

After Poisson floods, Kagota, in her fear of something happening to them, sends Kyros back to Snezhnaya with the twins. She's visited again by the Traveler and has Childe's vision returned to her, ad well as an explanation he's fighting something big, and she immediately understands, having been able to sense as much herself. After promising them her support and their departure, an abyssal rift opens in her home, and she enters it with encouragement from her power - Heraldic Tempest - to meet Skirk.

On being reassured Skirk is Childe's teacher, Kagota agrees to hear her out, and is informed he's fighting the All-Devouring Narwhal - something Skirk assumes she's already been aware of, as she's known of Kagota's existence as he other half since meeting him when he was 14. She doesn't elaborate, no matter how much Kagota tries to get more information, but does help her regain control of herself and her power, and shows her a means to further harnessing Tempest's power, informing her of just what Tempest is: An abyssal power that piggybacked on the one clinging to Childe until it moved to her, and proceeded to become a part of her. Tempest and Kagota are one being by that point, unlike Childe, who had been ignoring his own abyssal power in favor of his own strength. She is also told the nightmares she's been having have been her fighting against the Narwhal and its call, trying to keep it from controlling Childe and preventing it from breaking them apart at soul-level.

Kagota spends a full day with Skirk, and returns to Fontaine to find several have passed since she left. Ordered to go to the courthouse by Skirk before parting, she arrives in time for Furina's trial, and spends most of it up near the doorways, tucked behind a pillar to listen. She tunes out much of it, but is there for the Narwhal's appearance, and, harnessing her new power and form, puts herself between it and the people it's poised to attack - Just to be unneeded by Childe's appearance and stopping it. They barely get a glance to one another before he falls into the abyssal rift after the Narwhal, and she's quick to jump in after him, joining the fight until Skirk, Neuvillette, and the Traveler join in.

She's still in Tempest form when the fighting is done, and unlike her thrown husband, Kagota walks through the opened rift on her own.

Kagota is currently in Snezhnaya with her husband, Childe, and their family, recovering from her use of Heraldic Tempest's power while taking care of him and their daughters and adopted children. She's returned his vision to him, and is now fully aware of just what had gone on in full.

#Out Of Poms [OOC]#Updating Pom.EXE [Blog Update]#GI Spoiler #Let The Thunder Roar [Kagota Headcanons]#Yoroiis and I have been in some serious discussion since playing through 4.2 to decide on all this #This is 100% canon to her blog/Childe as well as mine <3 #And will be added to her about in the next couple of days after this is posted #We wanted to play through the full AQ before doing anything blogwise with it so we had all the info #And I do plan on eventually adding Lynette and Fremmy and Skirk as muses here - So the mentioned three #Are in regards to Kasa and I's own portrayals #There is also a visit from Waltzofphoenix's Kaeya while Kag is still pregnant regarding Kyros and their family but #That's for another post <3 #This is a more detailed explanation of Kag's divergences in Fontaine through 4.2 #I'll have further posts and details on her abyssal power later too <3 #This will be linked to in the Divergences page! <3

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0046incognito · 2 months

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Hi! So i have a somewhat similar series to yours, is it okay if I keep it? I don’t wanna seem like im copying, i do take a little inspo but I can credit you! :D ive been working on this project for about a year now.. Just asking if its all alright with you! Again, I don’t wanna copy, Youre a big inspo of mine!!

are you asking if it’s okay to take inspiration from my work? i’d be totally flattered! i’m pretty open about my inspirations so i don’t see the problem with being on the receiving end of that^_^ it honestly makes me extremely happy to hear on multiple occasions that people are inspired by my work and just makes me more and more motivated to make CMY2K real and tangible as soon as possible

#not art #it feels like people seem kinda hesitant these days to say they’re inspired by another person’s work as if they’ll get called out for #creative theft which just makes me sad cuz that’s not how art works #CMY2K would not be even Close to what it is were it not for my inspirations in shit like medabots perfect blue lain etc #as well as the many many individual artists over the years whose art styles have influenced mine like jon gray or craig mccracken #let’s all share in the joy of making art together OK^_^#i’m also admittedly kinda curious how you mean it’s similar cuz i feel like i’ve been slightly vague about what CMY2K actually Is on here #i should make more loredump posts on this blog instead of restricting them to my personal….

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meandmymoisl · 11 months

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Wow, how the heck did this little blog get up to 1,010 followers O.o

Where did you all come fro- oh, wait. Yeah. You're probably only 3 oder 4 people and the rest might be Bots.

Well, anyway - what the heck O.o and welcome to my blog xD

#This might be the first and only welcome to my blog you'll get #So cherish it #You won't get another one 😂#But really #How do 1k blogs follow this stupid blog of mine O.o #I can't believe it #it feels like yesterday #That I had celebrated the 10 followers in like 2014 #Whaaaat #Wait #Next year it's the 10th birthday of this stupid blog?! Whaaat?! O.o #Well - we'll never know what the first post was #Because I did not tag anything I guess and I will not scroll down all the way just because of the anniversary 😂#Yeah #welcome to my ted talk #Hope you enjoyed it 😂

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lizzieonka · 10 months

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Yet Another Tumblr Guide for New Users

Change your avatar, header, and put something on your description right now. Do not interact with any post before you do this. Otherwise, you’ll just be mistaken for a bot and blocked.

Post/Reblog stuff before following people. Even with your blog all customized, some people will still block you if they see your blog is empty.

Reblog, reblog, and reblog! Reblogs are not like quote retweets. Reblogging stuff is how Tumblr works, and reblogs actually help OP gain traction.

“Likes are useless” —You’ve probably seen a lot of guides preaching this, but actually that’s only some people’s opinions. People prefer reblogs over likes because it helps OP get more views/interaction on their posts, while likes are just—well, “likes.” It tells OP that you liked their post. Nothing bad with that. Some people also use likes to bookmark posts they want to find later. But if you want to support an artist, consider reblogging their work as well if you are able. If you don’t have enough spoons to use for reblogging, then that’s okay too.

Tags are for categorization, not clout. If you post about one thing but then tag it with irrelevant tags (especially those that happened to be trending), then people can report your post as spam. Here's a Guide to Tagging (edit coz I forgot to link this when I first published this post)

If you see something you don’t like, then just block the user. No need to rally people to cancel said user. Just block and move on.

Use Tag and Post Filters. It’s your responsibility to curate what you see on this site, so add as much filters as you want.

Spell out words. Do not say oomfs or moots. Say “just kidding” instead of “/jk”. Don’t censor triggering words like r@pe. For someone’s filters to work, the content being filtered has to be spelled right. By censoring your words, you’re putting people more at risk to seeing them. More about this on my Tumblr Posting Guide and Best Practices.

Turn off Best Stuff First. We hate algorithms here. Everyone views their dashboard in reverse chronological order.

Tumblr has post limits, but you rarely have to worry about them. I’m too lazy to grab links from the official docs for reference, so take this post limit screenshot (courtesy of XKit) instead. [Ignore the values under Remaining]

Edit: Okay, this is very important for Twitter refugees so I just had to include it:

When your post is reblogged by someone else, then you can no longer completely delete your post.

Unlike quote retweets, reblogs are forever. You may delete the original post, but you won’t be able to delete the reblogs of that post. They will continue to exist on other people’s blogs.

The best you can do to limit views on a post you want gone is to disable reblogs on said post before deleting it. That way, even if the reblogged version still exists, there’ll be no way to spread them further. Just make sure that you won’t regret it later.

Here’s an example of me doing exactly this on a post of mine that got over 10k notes.

#twitter #reddit #twitter refugee #tumblr refugee #reddit migration #twitter migration #tumblr #ID in alt #tumblr guide #miyamiwu.tut #miyamiwu.src

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livingemkayde · 7 months

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en route

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 3.5k

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f!recieving, light choking, dom!joel, a mild enemies to lovers mixed with sunshine!reader and grumpy!joel miller. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: hey guys...heres a little one shot in a followers/blog milestone celebratory fashion (!!!!!!!). this sort of turned into a one shot from the scrapped ideas regarding my new series. its also helping me gear up for taking on the task of beginning to write a new dynamic (i am definitely putting off completing chaser because i have an emotional attachment to that story BUT itll be out sometime this week). i love you all so, so, so much. you have no idea. thank you for everything (can you tell i live for a flashback fic).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize. He takes a step toward you. You take a step back. “You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.” Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you. “Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

You can’t stand him.

You really can’t stand him. Hate is a strong word. Maybe not one you use often. But the disdain you feel for Joel Miller hinges to the breaking point each time you run into him.

What a fucking asshole — you finally willed yourself to believe after weeks of kindness. It was practically seeping from your skin but it seemed to brush off his worn leather winter coat onto the fresh powder. It died there, and so did your hopeless attempts.

“Hi,” you breathed out, that first fateful time. It was a surprisingly clear winter night. He had just moved in. The women were fawning over him, ogling, jaws dropping in the town square. You just observed and tried to keep your face neutral. As neutral as you can be.

But Joel stood in front of you and just grunted in response.

It made you try harder.

“I brought these — made these for you,” you said, extending a pack of sandwiches for him and the girl you happened to see by his side. You figured she was with him. You traded a hell of a lot to get the meat for the sandwiches. But kindness and new neighbors seemed to fare well. At least in your very limited experience.

“What is this?” he questioned. He didn’t take them from your hands. His fingers—big and rough and calloused, picked at the skin of its own. He didn’t take a step outside the threshold. You were suddenly unwelcome. You felt the weight of the sandwiches grow tiresome in your outstretched arm.

“Sandwiches. Thought I’d say hello since you’re new around here,” you smiled, sort of shaking the pack, here — fucking — just take them, jesus.

But he didn’t, and your arm grew tired, and so did your smile.

“‘M good, thanks,” he mumbled in response, and shut the door in your face.

And yes, of course he was handsome. He was — rugged — and you can see the wired muscles stretch the cotton of his shirt on patrol sometimes. In those especially unfortunate circumstances where Tommy has the nerve to pair you two up together.

Handsome, yes. With a hulking bounding step over snow, and menacing shadow when he towers over you. A southern drawl—something so pitch-deep and honey-like, something you’ve never heard before. Not until you met him. And you were nursing a stupid hopeless crush over a guy you hate, but not really. And that drove you insane.

Because he was fucking, rude, yes. Definitely.

But you lost it. That last time you saw him. Because what’s worse was he wasn’t even being Joel Miller, his usually brooding self. He was being — nice? Kind? Funny? Maybe. You weren’t sure. You couldn’t hear much over the piercing ringing in your ears.

“You like this route, Joel?” you said, peering over your shoulder at him on horseback.

You tried to keep it up, the kindness, the fucking — benefit of the doubt bullshit. You really did. He seemed keen on it sometimes more often than not.

“‘S fine,” he replied back in a rumpled, annoyed way.

“You gotta see my favorite part,” you say, almost to yourself, almost forgetting about his dark drawl, only thinking about the meadow half a mile from the checkpoint.

He just snorted at that. You just tried to keep a happy face on.

The songbirds twinkled around in the surrounding trees. The winter snow was receding, making the small dribble of water a full stream. You followed it, straying slightly from the beaten path, earning a couple protesting growls from Joel, but you ignored his pleas, and surprisingly, he just followed you.

You got off your horse. Joel followed suit. You trudged across a little bend of water. He let out a scoff sounding more like a complaint each time he let one echo in the silence of the forest.

“C’mon,” you said, smiling, that time, a real smile. Maybe this would make him smile too.

You reached the crest of the small hill, hiked up your sleeves over your elbows, and bent down to touch the soft petals of the flowers beneath you.

“Look,” you said, sending him a sideways glance behind you. He was still clamoring to the top of the hill.

“Yeah, alright,” he groveled. You ignored him.

Joel joined you at your side, his chest puffing slightly out of your skewed peripheral vision.

“‘S beautiful, isn’t it?” you said to no one in particular. He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him to.

You bend down, picking a strewn orange flower blossom from the floor. Something broken off with the wind.

“This what you do all day? Pick flowers?” he mumbled.

“Maybe,” you grinned, maybe you were finally getting him to crack, too. “And what do you do all day?”

“Not this,” he said, shaking his head.

“Really?” you said, “Enlighten me. What does Joel Miller do everyday?”

“Joel Miller minds his business,” he replied, snarky, but he smirked.

It made you a little scared, you remember. Maybe you were under some sort of falsehood that made hating Joel Miller easy. So when he actually talks to you, teases, follows you through the meadow, it seems a little intimidating suddenly.

It’s different.

It’s fucking weird.

“Which one’s your — favorite,” he whispered, gesturing out to the field in a vague sort of motion with open palms.

“Lilies,” you replied, tense. You pointed down at a brighter purple lily plant to your right. Joel’s eyes followed your hand.

You wouldn’t dare look at him, but you could feel him moving beside you. He was in front of you suddenly, his indomitable presence made you turn your head and look up at him through the sunlight.

He lifted his hand, in line with your ear. Your head backed away from it instinctually, but you kept a keen gaze on his eyes.

Your brows knit together. So did his. Your mouth parted, almost speaking into the soft mountain air. But he moved his hand again, closer to your face. And you saw a flash of something orange. Like the little flower you picked up. He brushed those big calloused fingertips on your cheek, and slipped the orange flower between hair atop your ear.

You were so confused, you didn’t know what to say. But it was bad. He was risky. You tried not to think of the fact that maybe, if he wasn’t so fucking rude, and you didn’t hate him so much, maybe that small little schoolgirl crush would blossom into something bigger.

Because that’s all it was. A small, fucking stupid crush. He teases you. Pulls at your hair. Shoves you off the monkeybars. You put on a kind face anyways.

And you hate him for that. Decidedly.

“We should go,” you whispered. He dropped his hand. You both rode back in silence.

That put you in a horrible mood for the rest of the day. And when you went to sleep and woke up this morning still in a horrible mood, you know exactly why.

Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this. He can’t make you hate him and then pull the rug out from underneath you. Especially not with something as low as putting a fucking flower behind your ear.

You show up at the patrol meeting in an equally sour mood.

And maybe, yeah, you are being irrational. But at this moment you couldn't care less.

You find the assignment board for next week and see your name card slotted under Joels.

“Perfect,” you huff, already moving quickly out of the building, saving your usual chit chatting for another time. Maybe when you’re less pissed off.

“Hey,” a voice calls after you and you know. You could pick that voice out of a hundred recordings. It pulls you back, and you fight hard to keep moving forward. You’re close to your house already so you continue walking.

He calls your name this time.

You don’t falter in your huffing steps.

“Stop,” he says, grabbing at your arm, pulling you around towards him. When he sees your face, he hesitates. Though the air seems a little humid and sticky, you wrap your arms around yourself. A shield.

“What, Joel?”

“You—left,” he breathes out, looking down to your body slightly. It’s unnerving, him making you squirm.

“Yes. I’m leaving,” you roll your eyes, turning around again, but he locks hard onto your arm and pulls you back to him.

“What’s—” you shake out of his grip, “what’re you doin’?”

“I’m going home,” you say, and then under your breath, “Obviously.”

“What’d you say?” He's a bit defensive now, maybe falling back into old habits. Back when things were so perfectly hostile between you two.

“I’m going home, Joel,” you say, annoyed. “Is that okay with you?”

He doesn’t say anything. His mouth parts in confusion. You start walking again, this time, he lets you, falling in time with your steps next to you.

“Are you alright?” he says, almost worried now. Your footsteps fall faster as you see your mailbox sneak into view.

“I thought Joel Miller minded his business,” you grumble under your breath. But loud enough for him to hear. You know it. You reach your porch, stepping onto it. The morning dew springs to life from the vibrations of your rough boot.

“So you’re gonna throw a tantrum?” he growls, following you up, reaching the first step, you, on the top one.

“Real mature,” you say, turning around, hands on hips.

“Right,” he nods and looks down to his feet, “Ignoring people is mature?”

“‘M not!” you say, looking down at him, throwing your hands out at your sides, “You’re right here talking to me!”

“Yeah ‘n I had to chase you down the fuckin’ street,” he extends one arm towards the road.

“No one asked you to,” you bite, the venom sneaking past your lips.

He doesn’t even flinch.

“You wanna play that?” he mumbles. An empty threat at best. You hope.

“No,” you say. Tears are already in your eyes. “No, I don’t wanna — fucking — do this anymore, Joel,” you whisper while unlocking the door and walking inside. It doesn’t shut behind you, not all the way. And you hear his boots follow you in.

“The hell is your problem?” his voice echoes. He follows you in your house, to the skinny hallway which leads to your room.

You spin around, pushing at his chest with a pointed finger.

“You are my fucking problem,” you affirm.

You crane your neck to look up at him. His hair is pushed back, like he just got out of the shower before attending the patrol meeting. His chest puffs in time with your rapid heartbeat.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t say anything.

“You’re—” he quirks his brow at your attempts, “you’re an asshole, Joel,” you finalize.

He takes a step toward you. You take a step back.

“You’re rude. And inconsiderate—” he smirks, it makes you more mad, “—and snarky and a jerk for no reason.”

Your back hits the hallway’s wall. He takes another experimental step towards you.

“Okay. Yeah, keep going,” Joel breathes out, encourages, like you're amusing. “What else am I?”

“You’re —” your breath accidentally catches in your throat. He places his palm on the cold wall next to your head, leaning down closer to you. He’s fucking intoxicating. You’re drunk off his lowbrow and the curls that form at the base of his neck. What you wouldn't give to run your fingers through them right now—

“C’mon,” he chastises. His mouth is so close to yours, you keep switching between his eyes and his lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you mumble.

“Yeah?” you nod. “You already said that, baby.”

Baby.

“Don’t stop,” his lips get closer to yours, “What else?”

“You’re…” you look at his lips. He gets so close that his chest brushes up against yours. “You’re mean…and you’re arrogant.”

You find it in you to put your open palms gently on his chest. You don’t find it in you to push him back. It’s not like you want to push him back though, not when all you need is to bring him closer. His breath punches gently on top of your nose.

“Can I tell you what I think?” he grumbles, you shudder. He snakes his head down to whisper in your ear. His beard brushes the delicate skin on your neck.

“I think,” his lips brush over the spot right under your ear. You breathe so hard you might get light headed. “You’re a pain in my ass,” the hand on the wall catches on your waist. You squirm against his body.

“With your distractions, and your sandwiches, and your little flowers,” he’s so close, he’s almost kissing you. He slots his thigh between yours.

“Shut up,” you say, because that’s all you can say right now. The dark hallway encases him in the shadows. Even when he picks his head back up and looks into your eyes.

“Careful,” he warns.

You stay there, silence filling the air. Your shoulder blades dig into the wall there.

“You need to learn some manners,” he mumbles, shaking his head, looking down at your lips.

“I have manners,” you breathe, admittedly a little shaky, “just not for — fucking —”

“Not for what?” He smirks.

“Not for you,” you push against his chest again. He doesn’t flinch.

“Yeah?” something in his tone makes you fight harder, “You gonna be a bad girl?”

“Shut up,” you say, because you don’t trust yourself. You brace yourself against the wall in a desperate attempt not to whine. He’s making you slip. You silently chastise yourself. What happened to ‘Joel Miller doesn’t get to do this’?

You suppose all rational thought flies out the window when his roughed hands land on you.

“You can be a bad girl,” he said, pushing his fingers under your shirt. They’re surprisingly warm. You fight the urge to groan. Your eyes flicker down to your bodies touching and drag them back to his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to be a good girl, too.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, half under your breath. Joel’s eyes dance with yours, flickering from your lips to your left eye, to your right. Your nose, your eyebrows. Then back down to your parted mouth. You’re fighting a losing battle, you both are. You had no chance of winning it. Not even in the slightest, not at all. And you both know it.

So, fuck.

You kiss him. You learn forward, as much as the space between you will allow, and kiss him. He smells like pinewood, and fresh soap, and something smokey. He almost tastes sweet. His fingers splay across your waist. You feel the tips of them dig in there. You fight the urge to groan when you shift on top of his thigh slotted between your legs.

He hauls you into your bedroom, you sink down on the bed. He takes off his flannel. He’s slow, in his movements, almost like he’s teasing you.

Punishing you.

“Joel,” you say. You hate how you sound so whiny, so desperate. But after all, maybe you are desperate for him.

“Sit back,” is all he says, in that honeyed drawl.

You do.

Joel stands in front of your slightly open legs, playing with the hem of your shirt in his fingers.

Contemplating.

“You gonna be a good girl?” he mumbles, his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t look at you, just raises your shirt up slightly.

And you know what? You don’t have an explanation for it. But you just say it—

“Yes,” while looking up at him. The salt and pepper on his patchy beard. His hardened brow and quirked lip. His fingers drift from the hem of your shirt up, up, up. Until his thumb grazes your nipple and you moan at the feeling.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, his thumb playing at your chin, your bottom lip. Your hands dig into the comforter at his words. Your bottom jaw slowly falls under the weight of his singular thumb.

He pushes in, tugging your mouth open. You suck his finger obediently.

“‘S good—baby,” he whispers so low under his breath you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

You look up at him through your lashes, he pushes you back with his hand in your mouth until you’re laying flat on the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, pulling back his hand. While he shucks off his shirt, you undress frantically.

You snap your legs shut when your panties are finally off. The cold air bites at your ankles.

He nudges them apart until he’s slotted in between your open thighs. Your cunt stares back at him, glistening.

He runs his hands along your frame, kneading at the skin on your thighs. His fingers, big and rough and calloused—but it feels fucking good.

“Fuck—” you puff out, reaching for him, “I—”

He puts his finger up to his lips. Quiet. He says.

You listen.

“Just let me—” he says, drifting off when his fingers brush over your cunt. “Jesus—baby,” he mumbles, running his thumb through your slick. You moan and whine against his hand.

“Joel,” you say again. Pleading.

“I know,” he is all he says before twisting his hand and slipping a thick finger into your cunt. You gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and at the cotton beneath you. His free hand comes up near your neck, resting there. Not really doing anything.

“You’re loud,” he points out, pumping out, adding a second because you’re so wet. You moan, gasp, whimper.

“’N you never fuckin’ listen.” he mumbles, looking at his fingers pumping out of you.

“I do—”

He shuts you up with a strong hand wrapping around your neck. Not enough pressure to really do anything, but enough pressure to cut your words short halfway garbled into an excuse.

“Is that what you needed?” he groans, straining against his boxers, rutting up against your thigh. “Needed someone to tell you what to do?”

You’re close. You moan. He thumbs at your clit. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering into his ear. His hand finds yours, pinning it back to the gray cotton there.

“You needed me, baby?” he drawls.

Just when you’re about to come, he stops. Your eyes widen, he’s breathing heavily, his fingers are statues deep inside you.

“Joel—just, fucking—” you whine. He starts pulling his fingers out, receding away from you. “No—fuck, please, I—please,” you reach for him.

He looks at you. You whimper.

“I—fuck—I needed you,” you whisper. And you think to yourself that it’s true. “I need—you.”

His face goes soft.

“Okay,” Joel breathes, pulling out, but reaching down to take himself out of his boxers. Your legs part silently. “Fuck, angel. Okay.”

He guides himself through your folds, you squirm underneath him. He mumbles something into your ear but you can’t focus on anything besides he dull stretch when he pushes past your walls. He’s stretching you out already, just the tip. But the pain feels surprisingly good.

“God, Joel,” you whine. He goes slow. Excruciatingly slow.

“You—” he eases into you. He groans against your hair. “You’re — fuck.”

“Shit,” you curse out, he slips into you all the way, until his hips are flush with you. “Shit—you feel f-fucking good.”

He stays like that for a bit, letting you mold around him. He pants into your ear. You scratch designs into his back. Memorabilia for when he returns back to his house and gets a good look in the mirror. You grasp at the curls at the nape of his neck. They’re soft. Just like you thought they might’ve been.

He pulls out—almost all the way. And then thrusts back in. You both gasp into each other’s mouths.

“Goddamn — tight, fuck,” he says, finding a pace that elicites the most unintelligible moans from you and sets it. He’s rough—but not too rough. And he’s hitting that spot that inches you further to a pulling blinding light.

“Good, fucking girl—” he moans, he holds himself up above you with a strong hand next to your head. “You’re doin’ so—fuck—so good, pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the pretty girl. Or his praise, or his cock punching deep inside you, so deep that you can feel him in your fucking stomach, but you get closer. Tighter around him. He can feel it too.

“Joel—gonna—ngh—” you whimper. He hikes your leg over his hip, hitting something deeper.

“C’mon, angel,” he groans, “lemme — ah — lemme f-feel you.”

He drags it out of you, your muscles pull taut and your vision pulls white and he keeps going through it all. You moan, whimper, maybe even yell. But he keeps up his relentless pace. You dig your fingers in his back, marking him with little crescents to go with all the rest of them.

“Fuck—fuck,” he pants, his hips stuttering while you clench around him.

He thrusts into you, one, two, three more times, your aftershocks sending towards his release.

He lets out a broken groan spilling into you, rocking his hips with each pulse of his cock. “Shit,” he says, gripping your waist, “You — jesus, fuck.”

Joel collapses down next to you. He cleans you up, too. You both drift off to sleep. He kisses your forehead in between a floating, dreamless slumber.

Somewhere between then and dinner he leaves, mumbling in your ear. You’re too tired to wake up and walk him to the door. And when you wake up, and make your way downstairs you spot it, sitting pretty on your front porch through the glass.

A little makeshift bouquet, with fraying string wrapped around two stems.

Lilies.

1K notes · View notes

ballroamblitz · 9 months

Text

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed.

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically.

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me!

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along.

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair.

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings!

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing.

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie?

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation.

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath.

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya.

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom.

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind.

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N.

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession.

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered, messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like?

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do.

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest.

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face.

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share.

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things.

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most. Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned.

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon.

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach - Ate too much pudding?

- Yeah, probably.

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils.

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly.

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly.

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone.

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental...

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater.

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James.

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right?

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy.

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i?

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that.

James felt his face getting warm and red.

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question?

- Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love.

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought.

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken.

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions.

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces.

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder.

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me.

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically.

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. - Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms.

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago.

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week!

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself?

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge.

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry.

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared.

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me?

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could.

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher.

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her..

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather.

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his.

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love. Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #amortentia #the marauders x reader #the marauders era #the marauders #fluff #harry potter imagine

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anadiasmount · 3 months

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kisses with jude head cannon!! 🩷

- actually in love with your fics and blog sm!!

hi anon!! tysm!! means alot to me :PPPP 🤍

before you go to sleep he will either tuck into you or you into him, and kiss your forehead in a gentle manner. no matter if you guys are mad at each other, or if y'all are fine, he will kiss your lips to wish you goodnight. "goodnight pretty, sweet dreams..."

his kisses would make me feel nervous, so imagine your relationship is fairly new, and you guys kiss but hesitation and nervousness is always there. but after he just can't hold it in and kisses you out the blue, saying it was killing him not properly giving you a kiss like you deserved. "i needed to baby, it was killing me not being able to do that..."

if you're attending his games, HE WILL BEGGGG for a kiss from you. kiss you passionately in front of his fans and teammates before he goes off and plays, and no matter the result, he'll meet you by the sideline to get his deserved kiss after. "thank you for sticking with me always, y/n..."

maybe a forbbiden kiss, where you're not supposed to be around each other for certain reasons, but you guys have separation anxiety and sneak out to be with each other. maybe you're at your parent's house, or at a gathering and you've been separated too long, jude will pull you aside and kiss you like his life depended on it. "why did we agree to come to this hm? i need to be with you always y/n..."

messy kisses!! a nasty makeout sesh in public to be risky or in your home! him on top of you or you're straddling his lap. tongues dancing, lips smacking creating a clicking noise in the room. biting his lip and jude taking control of the kiss. unable to pull away but when you do your lips and jude's are slightly swollen catching your breaths. "so pretty, all mine to kiss and love..."

if you guys are out in public to an event, club, dinner, party, or anything, you guys have a thing made up by him, where three kisses mean "i love you". maybe you can't verbally say it due to it being quiet, but once he glances into your eyes and kisses your lips, it's his way of saying the three words.

PHYSICAL TOUCH IS MY LANGUAGEEE, and i think after all we've seen it's his as well!! small intimate pecks on your cheeks, temple, hands, shoulders, neck, thighs if he's laying on you, just because he loves to do that. giving you that cheesy grin he always does. "i love you, and every inch of you..."

drunk kisses!! he's looks like the type to be so needy and clingy when drunk, so i can imagine him wanting to kiss you wherever you guys are. at your house or out in public. grabbing your cheeks and pulling you into a messy giddy kiss. or you sitting on his lap and leaning down every now and then bc he has the most perfect kissable lips!! "keep kissing me and we'll give everyone a show..."

when he feel jealous, seeing another man make you laugh or spark off a unnecessary convo with you, or he notices you get uncomfortable and glancing to look at jude, he'd rush to you immediately, asking if you're okay before softly kissing your lips and then glaring at the guy whoever is in front of you, making it clear you're clearly taken. "you ok? who's this?"

we know jude loves his insta dumps, or posting on his story, posting a picture of the two of you sharing a kiss or pulling away after kissing because loves to show you off! or after a night out there's kiss prints left behind by your lipstick and he posts a picture of them bc he loves to be a little tease. "always leaving her mark... my y/n..."

kissing in the rain is a wantttt!! jude making you do it because its the inner child in him , holding you close to him, and the kiss is full of smiles and laughter, not being able to properly kiss because it feels so random to do it. will hold your waist and never pull back because it feels right and special! "i don't care if we get wet, just wanna hold and kiss my girl..."

if either one of you is having a bad day, reassure and communication always takes place. always wanting him or you to let their feelings known and comfort each other if needed. sharing soft pecks after talking because a kiss always let's jude or you know, that you are here for them. "let's focus on the present, forget about what happened, and let's enjoy our time here ok?"

SEEING JUDE AFTER SO LONG!! even if it was a couple days or when he has england duty, or preseason like last year. making time for each other is always a must, and after seeing him for so long all he wants to do is kiss you, because without them neither of you can't function! "missed you so much my pretty girl... taste so sweet like always..."

#jude bellingham #judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #football fanfic #footballer #football x reader #jude bellingham x y/n #football #football one shot #football x you

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