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hii so i was thinking could you write smth with james getting flowers for the first time from reader? it would be soo cute
hi lovely! thanks for requesting.
james x reader fluff | 711
James' shoes are haphazardly abandoned beneath the coatrack when you push your way through the door.
You're holding two bags in each hand, the crinkling of them loud in your ears as you struggle to move through the door way. The coat rack wobbles when one of the bags catches a coat that's been thrown over the top and you let out an exasperated swear under your breath. James rounds the corner with curious eyes, already changed out of his work clothes despite having only been home for what you know to be twenty minutes. He looks cozy in his Christmas pyjamas, socks pulled up with the bottoms tucked into them.
He smiles bright when your eyes meet his and steps forwards to take two of the bags from your hands. You hand them over gratefully, smiling to yourself when his lips press to your head in greeting.
"Hi, lovey," He murmurs, pulling away to make for the kitchen.
You follow, hot on his heels, chasing the scent of his boyish body wash and the warmth of his heart. "Hi. How was your day?"
James sets his bags on the kitchen island and you follow suit, "It was good. Got lunch with Sirius. He sends his love."
"No Remus?" You ask as you fall into a practiced routine of putting away the shopping, together.
It's domesticity at it's finest and you love every minute of it. James has a way of making the smallest things mean the world. With him, things like changing bed sheets or folding laundry isn't so boring. Simply because he's there, soft voiced and willing to help.
He squeezes your hip as he passes, headed to put the milk in the fridge, "Nah, he's got a deadline to meet next week, probably won't crawl out of his hole until after."
You make a mental note to check in on him through the week, even just to tidy up around him while he works, make him a meal that has more nutritional value than a Tesco microwave meal or a kebab. "I hope he's feeling more inspired than last week. Marlene said he was staring at the wall for over an hour when she went round to drop off the shortbread Mary made."
James hums in agreement, rustling around in the second bag. Cellophane crackles and your boyfriend makes a questioning noise - "Lovey, why didn't you tell me your flowers were dying, I only bought them last week."
You turn from where you're trying to stuff a bag of oven chips into the overly stuffed freezer drawer, eyebrows drawn together because your flowers aren't dying so why is James saying that they are? His eyebrows are furrowed, too, and he's standing with a bunch of bright yellow sun flowers in his hand. You smile, "They're for you, silly. Not me."
As if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
It only makes James more confused. "Why?"
Well, for starters, they're big and beautiful, and remind you of a summer's day - same as James. Secondly, he'd said only last week that his mum had grown them in her garden when he was a young boy and he missed the sight dearly. You tell him this and watch as his big hazel eyes turn soft, the hand that isn't cradling the bunch of flowers reaching out for you.
You crowd his space, happy to be so close to him, all cozy and warm and smelling so handsome. The tops of his cheeks are pink and he's smiling so wide it makes your heart melt. He looks almost bashful.
"I've never had someone buy me flowers before." He says it so quietly you're not sure if you were even supposed to hear.
"Well," You press your lips to the underside of his jaw, "Now you have."
He smiles even wider, presses his lips to yours and you feel the familiar warmth spread through your body at his touch. His fingers brush along your waist line, eyes on his bright bunch of sun flowers.
"Thanks, baby."
His smile is sweet and sticky like honey, a familiar feeling in your chest, and all you want to do is kiss him again. So you do. He welcomes it.
"You're welcome, Jamie."
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Is it chill that you’re in my head?
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synopsis your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.
wc 2.6K
“He’s looking over here,” James sings under his breath, his brown eyes full of mirth. He’s balancing on the spindly hind-legs of his library chair, the Potions essay he’s supposed to be doing laid out in disarray.
You send him a reproachful look. “You’re being malicious.” When you turn back around to face Davey Gudgeon’s table, there’s a split second of eye contact before he ducks his head down abashedly, his cheeks a brilliant rouge.
He has a crush on you, apparently. Sirius and Remus had overhead him talking about it on his way down to breakfast this morning—about how prefects rarely escaped unscathed after sharing something as intimate as a Saturday night duty.
James Potter, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.
“Au contraire,” he murmurs, the grin on his face audible, “I’m being a world class wingman.”
The look on his face is downright dangerous. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, unperturbed by the frown on your own, a warning. Easing forward until each hind-leg finds the ground with a resounding thud, he cups his hands around his mouth, whisper-shouting, “Oi! Gudgeon!”
Davey Gudgeon reddens further, a feat you didn’t think was possible until now. He glances over at James dismally, a furtive expression on his face. “What?” He mouthes, sending you this weak half-smile. It’s sort of sweet, almost contagious. You find yourself smiling back at him on instinct.
“Come over here, you bludger,” James chastises, like that’s the obvious next step. To be fair, it probably is to him — he’s never shied away from flirting with the girls he fancies, a self-proclaimed dating aficionado with way too much chat for his own good.
Davey hesitates, his nervous gaze flitting to you momentarily. He looks as though he wants to do just that, but isn’t sure whether his crush on you is reciprocated. Sweet.
He has gentle eyes, too, pretty juniper with bright specks of burnt ochre. A nice head of brown hair. If it was cold outside, you bet he’d offer you his Quidditch jersey without hesitation.
You think you need sweet, all things considered. You’ve known James Potter all of seven years now, had a wretched crush on him all of five, and never once has he indicated that his aforementioned expertise could ever extend to you.
It’s high-time that you gave your pathetic heart a rest.
“You’re making him miserable,” you mutter, ever-reproachful.
Davey hasn’t moved yet, though you’re sure he wants to, his hands braced on the table in front of him apprehensively. He keeps looking between you and James, surveying his options; in order ease his anguish, you decide you’d better make the decision for him.
You push your chair back and stand up, it’s spindly legs scraping against the vinyl floor forebodingly. James looks up in surprise. “Where r’you going?”
“To Gudgeon’s table.”
“Why?” James urges, perplexed. He half-stands too, his features a smidge less mirthful than before.
“So you’ll stop,” you reply, frowning down at him.
He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m stopping.” A pause. In the beat that passes, his assessing gaze falls over you in paces. “You’re not… you’re not keen on him too, are you?”
You think on this, cocking your head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s kinda sweet.”
“But he doesn’t even have the balls to come over here and ask you out properly,” James whisper-shouts, mildly exasperated.
You’ve never once called him sweet.
He’s had this tragic crush on you for all of seven years, and never once has he been on the receiving end of such a fond adjective. He’d only made a fuss over this Davey situation because he was sure it was just a jibe — no way someone like you would be interested in a guy like Gudgeon, no way you would even entertain the possibility of more than friends.
Right?
James wants that more than friends thing with you, bad. This morning, when Sirius’d brought up Bludgeon’s crush on you—sniggering violently—he’d snuck a glance at your features to ensure that it wasn’t reciprocated. He’s sure he’d caught a bit of second-hand embarrassment, though maybe it was actually just tender hearted diffidence. Maybe Davey fucking Gudgeon had something that he somehow didn’t.
Right now, James’d give up his head boy badge and Quidditch captaincy to acquire that something. His chest hurts terribly. He runs his sloven fingers through his unkempt hair, sending you another look of bewilderment.
“Because you’re here,” you reprove. “Course he’s not going to come over when the James Potter is taking the mickey out of him.”
You say his name like it’s an insult. James’ heart plummets. “I’m not — he’s welcome to come over,” he argues quietly, chagrined. “Besides, he’s going to have to get used to me if he wants to be your boyfriend.”
“Why?” You frown. “I always bugger off when you’re with another girl.”
“That’s different,” James insists, frowning in tandem.
“How’s that different?”
They aren’t you, James thinks vaguely. His poor heart blunders for the umpteenth time this afternoon. “None of them are girlfriends.”
“Not for lack of trying,” you mutter. James swears he hears a hint of spite in your tone. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. M’going over.”
James slumps back into his seat reluctantly. He knows that you’re right, begrudging as that revelation may be — he is always flirting with one girl or another, though that’s more so to pass time than anything particularly serious. Never you. You’d see right through him, anyway. Besides, the last time he tried, it’d been so disastrous you’d assumed he was joking.
It’d been at that Halloween party they’d had in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, firewhiskey flowing and sweet treats piled atop every surface.
You were wearing this gorgeous, albeit bemusing, costume of a Muggle someone — Wonder Woman, or something, James didn’t quite understand it. Showing a lot of skin. Your pretty eyes were accented by rouge glitter, lips all glossy, and your exposed limbs and bare waist had eased his heart right into his throat.
And James Potter didn’t often find himself lost for words, but it appeared as though this party was one of those exceptions.
“Woah,” he’d murmured, wolf-whistling lowly. He was in this ridiculous, Babbity Rabbity costume (courtesy of Sirius, who was a cackling pot), feeling entirely out of place when you looked so beautiful. “Christ, Y/N, who’re you meant to be? The hottest muggleborn at Hogwarts or something?”
You’d rolled your eyes then, because no way he was serious. “Don’t tease, James. Did you guys manage to snag any cauldron cakes?”
He’d been too busy to insist his sincerity, fond gaze travelling down your bare limbs, slow. Lingering on the wafer of exposed waist between your corset and skirt. He’s still agonised by the want to touch your soft skin; that wretched Hogwarts shirt tuck has prevented this from happening.
“By the fire,” he’d answered after a beat, dazed.
And when you’d fallen out of earshot, James’ eyes still trained on your figure, Sirius and Remus’d come up behind him, the latter wearing Muggle-manufactured fangs. (Supposedly, he was meant to be a vampire.)
“You’ve got a tragic affliction, James,” Sirius’d tutted under his breath, faux-apologetic. “How’re you somehow able to flirt with every girl in this room except the one that matters?”
“Shut up,” he’d muttered back at the time, though as he thinks back on it now, he realises that Sirius was right.
For some reason, with you, he always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He watches Davey scramble to straighten as you near his library table, the heat on his neck rising until his entire face is in a flush. And you’re smiling as you sit down beside him, this sweet, unabashed smile that looks too much like feelings reciprocated. Something in James’ ribcage cracks, an ugly emotion springing forth from within it. But he’s immobile, hands on the table and furrow in his brow, agonised by the fact that you’re looking at Davy all fond, not him.
Never him. You ask a question—James is trying his best to lip-read, but it’s difficult not to get carried away staring at your mouth. Davey nods, and then reddens some more. Then you stand up, feelings-reciprocated smile on your face as you walk back over to the table you’re sharing with James.
“He looks pleased,” James mutters grumpily.
You frown. “You don’t.”
“You’re doing charity work,” he answers, ignoring the insinuation. “You know that, right?”
“James,” you sigh, “you’re being unkind.”
“Because he’s punching.” But James knows this is unfair. He’s pretty sure every bloke in Hogwarts would be, if it was you and them.
—
“James,” Sirius calls, bemused. “You coming mate?”
Its autumn in Hogsmeade, and they’ve reached a cross roads.
The path to the left of them leads to the Hog’s Head Inn, one of their favourite haunts in the village due to its relative unpopularity. To the right, where James is glancing furtively, the cobblestone pavement takes them toward the Three Broomsticks. Where you are. With Davey.
Remus shares a knowing look with Sirius. “Think he’s in the mood for one of Rosmerta’s butter-beers, actually.”
James groans, scrubbing his calloused palm down his face slovenly. He knows exactly what he’s insinuating; Remus always has been the most astute of the lot. “Don’t bloody start.”
Sirius grins then, reaching for James and throwing an arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re going to need something stronger than butter-beer if you’re planning on watching Gudgeon snog your girl.”
His heart plummets. There’s that ugly emotion again, rearing its contemptuous head at him. “Wormtail’s there too,” he tries, shoving Sirius off. “We should go say hi.”
“Oh yes,” Sirius allows, his brown eyes full of mischief. “The one Marauder with a girlfriend. You after some tips, mate?”
“Cut him some slack, Sirius,” Remus chastises, though there isn’t much fire to his tone as he says it. “Reckon he’s miserable enough about the fact that the one time he fancies a girl she isn’t interested.”
James frowns, sending the pair of them a look of determination. “Look, shove off, both of you.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens further, keenly resolute. “I just want to check on her, alright? Make sure that bludger isn’t pulling anything funny.”
“Right.” Sirius nods soberly. “Or snogging her to death.”
“Fuck,” James groans again, his insides squirming. “You’ve gotta stop putting that image in my head.”
He turns toward the path to his right, the cobblestones plush with Autumn leaves, when he spots your figure in the distance and freezes. Coming closer. You look beautiful in this matter-of-fact, effortless way that makes James’ heart stutter; your pretty eyes are alight with mirth as you catch his gaze, this fond smile on your lips that makes him want to kiss you. Bad. He swallows thickly, his chest a pathetic mess.
Sirius and Remus must spot you too, because the pair of them beginning walking backward toward the Hog’s head, their eyebrows raised in tandem.
“She isn’t with the bludger, Prongs,” calls Sirius, a knowing lilt to his tone. “Now’s your chance.”
“My chance?” James asks, distracted.
“To snog her, you idiot.”
But James doesn’t hear him. Partly because the wind’s picked up, mostly because it’s difficult for him to concentrate on anything but your growing closeness.
Once you’re within earshot—more of you to agonise over, exposed waifs of skin like a siren song—he stumbles forward clumsily.
“Y/N,” James breathes out, pleasantly surprised. “Where’s Davey?”
You grimace, looking over your shoulder furtively. “I’ve just escaped him.”
James’ stomach deflates, relief washing over him in waves. He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Escaped?”
“Don’t,” you warn, frowning sternly. “He… he’s alright, really. Just doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation.” You grimace again. “Or take a hint. Like, at all.”
“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”
“Well,” you begin, and then you shiver, moving closer to James without meaning to. “Christ, Potter, you’re a really good wind shield, y’know that?”
“At your service,” he murmurs, inching forward too. “You were saying?”
You gaze up at him, the rough planes of his face ever present, and you’re struck by the revelation that he doesn’t need an old Quidditch jersey to keep you warm. He’s a furnace of body heat and cedar-wood cologne.
“Well,” you continue, voice low, “after two butter beers and absolutely zero chat, I’d sort of assumed that he’d have realised that this just isn’t going to work.”
“But…?”
“But,” you grimace, “he asked me out again.”
The way your features twist as you say it, as though that’s the last thing you want to do, wrings any residual jealousy he may be feeling right out of his stomach. He’s struck by this suddenly, overwhelming urge to caress your jaw and pull you closer.
“And let me guess,” James murmurs, grinning fondly. “You said yes.”
“I said I’ll see.”
“I worry all this charity work’s going to be the death of you, Y/N.”
You crinkle your nose up at him, punching his chest playfully. “Don’t you start James Potter.”
James raises his arms in surrender, still grinning. His gaze lifts above your head to take in the footpath behind you, and he finds himself looking right at the burly figure of Davey Gudgeon trudging toward the pair of you.
“Bloody hell,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about him not being able to take a hint, huh?”
You furrow your brow, looking over your shoulder bemusedly. When your head whips back around to face him, your eyes are wide and a little tortured, dappled by the warm, orange hues of Autumn. A damsel, James’ thinks, dazed, as if that’s a normal thought for a eighteen-year-old bloke to have. He’s already spiralling over kissing you and it’s been all of five minutes.
“Is he looking over here?” You ask, your voice low.
James’ eyes dart back to Davey. “Uh, yeah?”
“Good.”
You wrap your arms around his neck hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. James takes a second to recalibrate, his poor heart a mess, but when he does, he’s quick to circle your waist and pull you closer, his strong arms firm and torso warm on your figure. It’s a deft kiss, chaste as it is agonising, though kiss enough for him to memorise the feeling. The buttery taste of your lips, the perfect way they appear to mould against his.
It’s a tandem emotion — you’ve revelling in this kiss far more than you should, the arduous pressure of James’ lips on your own. He’s going to leave a mark. He tastes like sugar quills and feels like the death of you, his sloven hands pressing into the bare skin of your waist.
When you do finally pull away, your cheeks are warm and you’re a little breathless. “S’he still there?”
A beat passes. James doesn’t look up.
You mistake his pause for unease, and grimace abashedly, looking away from him. In hindsight, you aren’t sure what possessed you to kiss him like that — you want to pretend it was to stave Davey away, but your traitorous heart says otherwise.
God, you think, it was a really good kiss. If only James liked it as much as you did.
If only you knew.
“Sorry,” you add in a hurry, still grimacing. “I — I wasn’t thinking, I just didn’t want Davey to come over here and I —”
“Y/N,” James interrupts, his voice rough, gravelly around the edges. “Stop talking.”
You let out a breath. “Why?”
“I want to pretend you kissed me because you wanted to, just for one more second.”
“What?” You ask, your eyes wide. “Why?”
James thinks, isn’t it obvious? He’s still marvelling over how perfect your mouth is.
“Because,” he admits quietly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”
You don’t know what to say to this. Your still chest to chest with less than an inch between your figures, and you can feel your poor heart struggling to free itself from its cage. “You have?” You say, suddenly bashful.
James nods. His pupils are a little blown, his unkempt hair a mess, and he keeps his gaze trained on your lips as though he’s being paid for it. “And listen,” he murmurs, reaching forward to thumb over them softly. “Don’t worry about Davey Gudgeon.”
“Why not, James Potter?”
“Because I’d sooner die than let that bludger bore my girl to death again.”
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OBSESSED|| J.F POTTER
Pairing; James Potter x Fem!Girlfriend!reader
Summary; It’s no secret that James Potter is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend and he couldn’t be more in love.
Warnings; None. (Fluff.)
HP/Marauders Master List
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The entirety of Hogwarts were not ignorant of the knowledge that when James Potter loved, he loved hard and he did it with everything he had in him.
They had seen it in the way he treated his closest friends and they had most definitely seen it when they had seen him pine after Lily Evans, trying with everything in him to gain her affections.
However, after at least a hundred hairline cracks to his heart it was important to make the decision to move on from the red head before his heart broke in two.
It was hard to believe that the Potter boy had truly decided to put the red head behind him, even his friends weren’t really sure they believed him but it just so happened that the boy was telling the truth.
He no longer put on grand performances professing his love, no longer sent gifts via owl flying through the Great Hall and no longer tried to ask out Lily on a date.
Instead he took time to focus on himself, his studies and his friends.
It turns out that when your entire focus is simply on the girl you thought was the love of your life and pranking others it could really affect a person’s grades and so when Minnie had suggested the idea of a tutor he happily agreed with her, he wanted to prove that he really was serious about his studies and his future, not just to his professors but to his parents too.
He wanted to be more than a spoilt, rich boy that got handed everything he could ever need.
He wanted to earn the opportunities he was being given.
Lucky for him, he got a lot more than he was bargaining for when he walked into McGonagall’s classroom that day to find you sitting at one of the desks with your head stuck in a book, waiting for him.
Not only did his grades start skyrocketing but he found that with each tutoring session he spent with you a weight began to grow in his chest, only growing heavier with each moment you spent together.
He’d begin to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him, hair messily pulled back away from your face, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read whatever book you had with you that week, he thought you were adorable.
Slowly, he had accepted the fact that he did indeed, have a crush on you.
He approached it differently than he had with Lily though, instead of grand gestures and eccentric performances, he instead settled for subtle acts of service and innocent touches.
An entire two months he had spent sending subtle glances your way, asking innocent questions to get to know you better, strategically taking notice in the way you’d react to his minor compliments or soothing touches to try and find out if you in some way felt the same.
He thought you did, you had to, right?
He wasn’t imagining the way your cheeks would turn pink when he brushed his hand against you or the way you’d shyly refuse eye contact with him when he looked at you a certain way.
He couldn’t have been imagining it.
He wasn’t. When he eventually bit the bullet and asked you out on a date he couldn’t believe it when you had agreed.
A night spent in the Astronomy Tower with your favourite snacks as you talks for hours and watched the stars had been the start of it all.
There was no doubt about it that James Potter loved you, Hogwarts had never seen him happier.
"He’s doing it again," Sirius groaned, seeing the way James was sitting with his head rested against his palm, seemingly in a daydream as he stared across the hall at you.
It would’ve been deemed creepy if they didn’t know he was staring at his girlfriend, you.
"Leave him alone, Padfoot, he’s in love," Remus teased, briefly glancing up from the novel he was reading, it amazed him every time at just how easy it was to read the emotions swimming in his friend’s hazel eyes.
"He was never like this with Lily," Peter piped up through a mouth of pastry.
Sirius gave him a look of disgust before commenting "He doesn’t even know who Lily is anymore, there’s only two women that exist to our Prongs here and those are his mother and the girl he’s currently staring holes into."
There was no indication that James had heard Sirius’ words but he suddenly jumped up from his seat, startling his three friends. "I need to go give Y/N a hug before she forgets about me." He briefly explained before hurrying towards his girl.
"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Sirius mutters in disbelief, all three of them turning to stare at where you were now in James’ arms, looking up at him with a loving smile.
There was no lie in the saying that Potter’s only fall in life once, they just first need to learn the difference between love and infatuation.
He had been infatuated with Lily, but he was beyond in love with you.
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James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it
Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words
Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. He’d tried rubbing your calf and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath. 
“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes. 
In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job. 
“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him. 
You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?” 
Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly. 
“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?” 
“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”
But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead. 
“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before. 
James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?” 
“Everywhere.” 
“By your eyes?” 
“No.” 
He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?” 
“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.” 
“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels. 
James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.
“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus. 
“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.” 
“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up. 
You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 
“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained. 
You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.” 
Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now. 
“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?” 
“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now. 
“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.” 
“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.” 
You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.” 
James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.
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𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 — JAMES POTTER!
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pairings ❧ james potter x reader
summary ❧ no one makes james potter feel the way that his girlfriend does and he definitely knows it
warnings ❧ female!reader, cheesy writing, lots of fluff, sunshine!reader, james is whipped for the reader, based on my girl, by the temptations, implications of wolfstar, pda, not proofread
word count ❧ 1.1k
additional notes ❧ my first james fic sort of blew up and i was feeling inspired to write another—thank you for all your support | i also have a longer version for this so let me know if you’re interested ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა
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You’re James’ sunshine, you’re his bundle of light and happiness on a cloudy day, and you’re all of his favorite things mixed into one beautiful girl. To James, nothing can ever compare to the way you make him feel. Every time you look in his direction with those captivating eyes that always sparkle with love—love that you constantly spread across the school like it’s your only goal in life—to make people feel loved, special, wanted—unlike so many—your contagious smile that makes him feel all giddy and causes his stomach to flutter with excitement.
Everything you do, everything you are, makes James feel like one of those special recipients of all the love you have stored in your overflowing heart. James feels like the luckiest guy in the world to have the privilege of holding you in his arms during the cold winter nights spent in his dormitory, the early spring mornings strolling through the flower meadow the two of you found in the outskirts of Hogwarts, the hot summer days spent in the backyard of the Potter residence, and the cool autumn evenings feeling the cool breeze blowing the fallen leaves past your feet.
Even now, you stroll through the doors to the common room and look so effortlessly breathtaking. The elegance you seem to carry with you to every room you enter makes James’ heart race because you’re his girl and no one else can take you away from him.
Yours and James’ friends always know when you’ve entered a room, not just because your presence is enough alone, but because James always seems to have an absolutely stunned expression dancing across his face, almost as if his heart has stopped beating—this time it leads the group to tease the love sick boy.
“What’s got you all smiles, Prongs?” Sirius asks curiously and with a teasing smile he playfully nudges his best friend’s shoulder, earning no reaction from James—who seems to be mesmerized, by your presence, “Is it that girl of yours, again?”
“Is that even a question?” Lily scoffs lightly and with a dramatic roll of her eyes she gazes past the small crowd of people also entering the common room in an attempt to spot your radiant figure, “Of course it’s (Y/n).”
“Let’s ask the lover boy,” Marlene suggests with a sly grin and points the book she's currently reading towards James, before calling over to him teasingly while tilting her head to one side, “Oh, lover boy?”
“Yeah?” James responds without tearing his gaze away from you and when your eyes finally meet he can’t help but let out a captivated sigh, his eyes screaming his absolute admiration for you.
“See, here she comes now," Lily smirks, gesturing in the direction of you, as you continue to make your way towards the group, who are casually sitting in their respective spots around the room—Lily and Mary are sitting together on the couch closest to the blazing, however warm fire, Remus and Marlene are reading on the couch across from them, Sirius is comfortably situated on the floor between Remus’ legs, and finally James is sprawled out on a lounge chair angled directly towards his lovely girlfriend—you. 
“Good morning, everyone.” You greet your friends with a loving smile, plop yourself down on James’ lap, and finally turn your long-craved attention toward your favorite boy, “Hey, Jamie.” You add sweetly and swiftly lean over to plant your soft, addicting lips upon his flushed cheek.
“Good morning, love.” James replies, adjusting his hands on your hips in order to pull your back flush against his chest—something you shamelessly lean into. As James wraps one of his arms around your waist and nervously fidgets with the hem of your shirt, you wrap your own arms around his shoulders, place your hands at the nape of his neck, and begin to twirl the ends of his curls (that need a trim, you notice) around your fingers—something you know he’s obsessed with.
You then glance around the room at your friends as they engage in each of their preferred activities on this peaceful and quiet evening. Your face transforms into a content smile, reminiscing on what your life might be like when you and your friends all leave Hogwarts. A day where all of your friends come over to the Potter resistance—you and James’ house, and spend the day around the fire, warm cups of tea within reach, silent communication being shared between you and James before the two of you sneak away and up the perfect wooden stairs to your bedroom, where laughter and secrets are shared under the sheets.
“Prongsy here hasn’t stopped smiling since you walked through that door.” Sirius smiles causally, leaning further back against Remus’ legs as the sandy-brown-haired boy nervously shifts in his chair and swiftly runs the hand that isn’t holding his book through his hair. Sirius’ comment is directed towards you, and you finally snap back into reality when you notice that knowing smirk plastered across Sirius’ face.
James lets out a dramatic groan while throwing his head back against the chair that the two of you continue to sit in. Your boyfriend’s reaction to Sirius’ constant teasing causes a quiet giggle to fall from your lips. The sound of your contagious laugh makes James’ stomach swoon with love and his face visibly lights up after lifting his head back up off of the chair. James can’t help but stare at you even when you’re sitting right in his arms. You look so sweet, radiating with love and warmth. At this moment, James can only imagine what those lips of yours might taste like. And that’s when he kisses you.
James can’t control himself and for valid reasons. You taste just the same as you always do—like honey, sweet as can be. It would be impossible for the bees not to be jealous of him. James could never get tired of kissing your lips and he’s not ashamed of it. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life with you then he’s always going to express his everlasting amount of love and affection for you.
The kiss catches you off guard, not expecting such passion and aggression in front of your friends, but you instinctively kiss James back. Your hands tangle through James’ hair while his grip on your hips and the waist tighten ever-so-slightly. This earns him a surprised squeak from you, and causes a boyish grin to form on James’ face as he kisses you.
“Get a room!” Sirius shouts jokingly from his spot on the floor which causes you and James to pull away with love sick grins consuming your expressions.
“You’re my girl.” James whispers into your ear and affectionately bumps his nose into the apple of your cheek, tickling your sensitive skin. A soft giggle bubbles into the air when James begins to pepper kisses all over your face.
“And I’ll always be your girl.”
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Wildest Dreams
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: Finding out that your ex-best friend might have smelt you in the Amortentia feels as surreal as you smelling him.
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: harassment, non-consensual touching (non-sexual), insecurities
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When you hear the door to the classroom swing open, slam into the wall, and as if on cue a chorus of laughs resound around the room, you know it's James and his imbecile friends.
Your lips thin into a tight-lipped smile as you send Marlene an exhausted look.
"Gentlemen," Slughorn drones on as he turns to look at the boys, who comedically trip over themselves to find their spots in the crowd of students, "You're late." 
"Evidently, Professor." Sirius Black quips and nudges his shoulder into James. The latter smirks.
James has somehow found his way next to you. He hasn't done it on purpose but when he turns his head and sees you beside him, his smirk turns into a wide smile.
A smile that never fails to make your knees shake and your heart feel like it could explode.
"Y/n," James whispers. 
"Hi Potter," you roll your eyes, hiding a smile behind faux frustration.
You and James aren't friends. Well, unless you counted the years from ages four to eleven, when you had been inseparable. You'd grown apart these last years and while you'd cried over your lost friendship in first year, you had decided it was for the best to distance yourself from him anyway. 
Having a crush on your best friend is incredibly clichĂŠ.
Still, although you weren't friends in the same way as you had been, James has always been kind to you.
He says hello to you when he sees you in the hallway. You have had pleasant conversations in passing, and when his family occasionally has yours over – for old times sake – you both sit on the balcony outside his window and talk as if nothing has changed. 
You shift away from James a little, feeling too close to him, and cross your arms. You turn your attention to Slughorn as he clears his throat and lifts the lid from the pot, "Very well then,"
His sentence is drowned out by the soft, delicate smell that fills the room. You pin-point the scent of broom-polish immediately. Rosemary, vanilla, bergamot and cedar. Your expression falls. Bergamot and cedar. Your head spins and you wonder if James put on too much cologne this morning or if — 
Your mind suddenly goes completely blank when you feel James's breath against your ear, uttering exactly what you had been wondering, but this time about you, "Hey, did you put on more perfume than usual? I can smell it from here," his voice is teasing and you feel just a little fainter than you already had been. 
"Amortentia," Slughorn interrupts, "The most powerful love potion to exist. It smells differently to everyone, depending on what attracts them — or sometimes who attracts them," He continues on, explaining the dangers of the potion, but you aren't listening anymore. 
You look up. James has gone quiet and he's staring at the bubbling liquid, a vacant look in his eyes. Your heart clenches and you turn your head, inclining it down. You must have heard him wrong. James must have been confused.
A pit forms in your stomach when James moves away from you, leaving your side feeling empty. You hear him laugh with Remus and your hand squeezes around your arms. 
You hadn't worn any perfume this morning.
"Hey, Y/n/n," You're pulled from your thoughts when William, another Gryffindor, comes up from behind you and shoves into your shoulder so he's standing next to you.
"I knew I'd smell someone as hot as you in there," He teases, leaning in close. "Just like fucking vanilla," Williams brings his hand into your hair, twirling some strands in his fingers as he presses his nose close to your temple and inhales. 
"Hey," You move your head away, feeling disgusted. William just barks out a laugh and his arm extends to grab yours. Suddenly, you're almost pushed to the side when James stands in front of you and shoves William away. The boy bumps into the cauldron and the Amortentia spills all over the floor. 
"All three of you," Slughorn suddenly booms, his cheeks flushed crimson, "McGonagall. Now."
So you find yourself standing in the middle of James and William in McGonagall's office. The older woman is sitting at her desk, her arms crossed as she stares at you all from behind her small glasses. She looks at William first considering his shirt is drenched in the thick liquid from the Amortentia, "What happened?"
"Potter shoved me," Williams states quickly, glaring at James.
"And I'd do it again," James snarls, crossing his arms. 
McGonagall looks utterly exhausted at their bickering and turns her attention to you. "What about you, Miss Y/l/n, care to explain what happened?"
William sends you a dark look, but when you look at James his expression is soft. "William made me uncomfortable in class and when James saw, he accidentally shoved him into the Amortentia and it spilled all over."
"It wasn't an accident! He did it on purpose!" William argues like a child and James sends him a knowing smirk.
"Oh yeah, the shove was intentional," he grins wolfishly, "Although, I didn't mean to knock the potion over, Minnie," James looks over at McGonagall and this time he looks a little sheepish. McGonagall just stares at him as if he has gone insane and then she looks at you.
"You can leave, Miss Y/l/n," she says and looks back at the boys and hums, "You two may not."
You glance at James a little nervously but he sends you a reassuring smile. So, you ignore William's loud complaining and thank McGonagall as you walk out of her classroom.
* * *
A few hours later, when you're walking out of the Great Hall after dinner, you and your friends run into James again. He's also with his friends, leaning against the wall, and they're laughing obnoxiously loud.
However, when James sees you his smile widens. "Ladies," he says, crossing his arms cheekily.
"Gentlemen," your lips curl into a smirk as you nod at Sirius, Remus, and Peter. James tilts his head at his friends, his expression quirking almost as if he's annoyed that you mentioned them and not him. 
"You feeling okay?" James asks. 
You stare at him, trying to understand exactly what he means.
Does he really care or is he only asking because he's in trouble because of you. Is it mocking?
You start to overthink and James can sense it. So, he moves a little closer to you and you can smell his cologne. It sends heat creeping up your neck.
He asks again. "After what happened with William," he whispers, "when he made you uncomfortable. Are you okay?" James looks genuine and you see his hand hesitating to touch your arm.
You look up at him, staring into his eyes, "O-Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I was just - I didn't think anyone would have smelt me in that potion," you laugh, rambling because that's what you do when you're nervous. You can see James's expression shift into a small smile.
"You'd be surprised," he says, rubbing his nape, "Hey, can we talk in private? I wanted to ask you something?"
Once you say yes, you find yourself in a small, empty, classroom with James. You lean against a desk, hand gripping the edge as you stare at him. "What's up?" you ask. James has never asked you to talk like this.
"My mum is having one of her family dinners for Christmas," James starts, "I wanted to invite you, personally," he adds, as if he's been rehearsing. 
Usually, his mother will invite yours and then by proxy you'll show up. But, this is different. "You want me to come?" your eyebrow raises in confusion, "Personally?"
"Yeah," he sounds unsure, "I mean we're friends, right?"
Is that what we are, you want to ask him but you don't. "I didn't think we were friends anymore," You say honestly and James's expression falls.
He fiddles with his hands nervously but walks closer until he's directly in front of you. You lean away from him and into the desk, chin tilted up to look at him. 
"I'm an idiot," he whispers, looking at you intensely, "I shouldn't have let you slip out of my hands like that. I, well, miss you, a lot."
You listen to him with harsh breaths, trying to understand where this all comes from and why now.
James's hand reaches out and hovers over your cheeks until he holds you and brings you closer to his face. Your eyes round. You're so sure he'll kiss you with how close you are and by the way he's looking at you. You don't have time to make up your mind if you'd want to kiss him or not, because instead, he guides your cheek to his chest and his arms wrap around you. 
He crushes you into a hug. 
Your breath escapes you in a sigh, "James?"
"Y/n," he says your name smoothly and soothes a hand down your hair, "You smell like vanilla and cinnamon. With just a hint of freshly-mowed grass, probably because whenever I see you after a Quidditch match you always have some grass in your hair, right here," James says in a whisper and his finger traces behind your ear.
"Usually from a small tumble," he adds, "You're so clumsy sometimes."  
You pull away only to have him hold you closer. 
"I can't keep pretending I don't think about you," he admits and that sends all emotions crashing over you. You stare at him, lips parted and eyebrows creased, as you try and understand the meaning behind the words. "I smelt you in the Amortentia," James admits.
"You smelt me? You're joking."
James suddenly frowns and he watches as you practically try and sink into the desk behind you. He can take a hint and he moves away. "What? No?" 
You feel your cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. "You aren't joking?"
James's face softens and he smiles. "Of course I'm not – I smelt you and also your perfume which," his smile turns into a smirk, "I can tell you aren't wearing right now." James chuckles happily, his eyes crinkling in the corners and your heart flutters. "Merlin I gave myself away in that classroom, didn't I, love?" 
Your insides become mush at the nickname and you find yourself nodding. 
James looks at you fondly even when he says, "I understand if you don't feel the same. If I'm not the boy you like or a boy you want. I have been a foolish ass for the majority of our time here at school. I've ignored you and worse than that, I let myself forget how lucky I was to have you as my friend and I'm so sorry."
As you hear his words, you can feel tears brim in your eyes. James's fond smile disappears and he starts to panic. "Hey, hey, hey!" his hands cup around your cheeks without even thinking. "I don't want to make you cry, love. Y-you're okay," he promises frantically. 
James is so close. His cologne has invaded your senses until you can't think clearly. All you can do is lean in closer until your nose brushes his. James is surprised but when he looks into your eyes, his body relaxes as he understands what you want. You like to think it's all the years you were friends that makes it so easy for James to understand.
"You want me to kiss you?" he whispers, his voice husky and low.
You feel warm all over as his arm slides behind you and he holds your lower back, waiting for a yes so he can pull you closer. You nod, smiling. You wonder if I have to tell him he's the one you smelled in the potion or if he'll understand by the way you kiss him. 
James's lips press onto yours. He's testing the waters, making sure he's not moving too quickly or too slowly. You let your hand find his hair as you pull him closer. James's hand wraps around you and in the passion, he hoists you up onto the desk behind you and you pull him in.
You kiss him like you've never kissed anyone and it takes your hand on his chest to snap James back into reality. He gently disconnects your lips and leans his forehead on yours.
His eyes are still closed when he says, "Shh, we have all the time in the world. I don't plan on letting you slip away from me again, Y/n," he says it like a promise. Like a prayer. 
Finally, you speak, "James. I missed you," you admit in a whisper. 
James holds you closer. "I missed you more. You don't know how much you mean to me." 
You laugh, feeling how close he is and how badly he doesn't want to drop your hand. "I think I can guess," you say teasingly.
James shakes his head. "My love goes beyond any words I could possibly muster." 
You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. "Since when is James Potter such a hopeless romantic?" 
James grins, his hand sliding down to your thigh as he draws soothing circles on your skin, "He's always been a romantic, darling. He just hasn't had the chance to show you," he whispers and quickly kisses the tip of your nose. 
"Well, he can start now," you smile.
James nuzzles his nose into your shoulder. "So, does this mean that we're friends again?"
You pull away and send him a playful look. "Can this mean we're more than friends now?"
James looks into your eyes and deep in his brown ones, you can see his sincerity, "We'll be whatever you want, love," he says. He hugs you close and your face is buried in his neck. You sniff, your smile widening.
You whisper into his neck, "Bergamot and cedar."
James chuckles, still holding you, "What was that, love?"
"Nothing," you smile, simply content with holding him. 
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I think it’d be funny if Dick and Jason, due to wearing bright yellow capes on the job for years, are capable of stealth to a frankly unhinged degree. They barely have to try anymore it’s so second nature. Dick can just completely disappear while in the loudest neon clothes imaginable. Jason is constantly startling people who don’t understand how they missed a guy the size of a fridge standing right there. Bruce is extremely grateful for his unbreakable poker face because they have both startled him by accident and would never ever let him live it down if they knew.
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She’s a 10 but she lives off of academic validation while simultaneously procrastinating like she’s been promised immortality
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One thing we’ve seen is that every time someone wields Plagg they go absolutely apeshit for whoever happens to be wielding Tikki at the time. Chat Noir with Ladybug, Lady Noire with Mister Bug, Kitty Noire with Scarabella, etc.
Given that Plagg is aroace, I’d like to posit two conjectures. 1: wearing Plagg loosens your inhibitions slightly. 2: the primary qualification for wearing Plagg is being utterly down bad for Ladybug users.
In this essay I will explain why neither member of DJwifi should be allowed to use Plagg if the other is using Tikki because neither of them would ever get anything done—
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what is the best poly ship in your opinion
Bruce Wayne/horse tranquilizers/12 hours of uninterrupted sleep
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now why on earth are we all paying so much attention to jos verstappen yapping. i know lewis to ferrari actually being true put the fear of god into us all when it comes to outlandish silly season rumours but come on now
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james being soft w reader as they approach their period and he gives her boobs massages casue her nipples are really sore and her boobs are insanely heavy pretty please
James Potter is THE boob man, and I will fight for that until the day that I die, he is just enamored with them. i’ve seen many writers on here agree that he would call them ‘his girls’ and no bc that’s exactly right. that’s exactly what he would do. they’re his girls <3 this concept just made me 🤧 i just love this sm
The second you mention that they’re getting sore he’s like :] u want a massage :] I swear he‘s like magnetized to them or something. but you take him up on his offer when you two are back in his bed, about to go to sleep.
you roll over onto his chest, propping yourself up on him and leaning your head in your hand, “Jamie~”
He’s already looking at you and he’s got that ooey gooey mushy gushy look in his eyes that he gets whenever he sees you and he’s cooing right back at you, “Hm?”
“Gettin’ sore.” You glance down at your chest and honestly you’re surprised he isn’t already looking at them, but he catches on quickly and ushers you to sit up, He brings you back against his chest, propping himself up against the headboard of the bed and letting you rest back on him. 
his hands are immediately on your tits, slipping under your nightdress and being as gentle as possible so that he doesn’t make the pain worse. he knows you’re usually in a lot of pain, and he just lets you lay your head back on his shoulder and he leans his head against yours, gently squeezing and massaging your boobs until you’re just putty in his hands. 
you honestly might fall asleep during the massage, because he’s willing to do this for literal hours. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, this man worships his partner, and he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, you’re so close to him and it’s such a soft, sweet, intimate moment and argh he’s absolutely whipped i swear
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First time requesting here so idkk if I'm doing it right but...
James whos really attentive and invested with the tea from work/class that reader tells them while they cuddle like,, he has no idea who they are rlly but reader crawls up beside him in bed and is like "babe,, i have tea" or like "babe u know about..." and he's all ears, full attention nd all plus has the best reactions,, and idk i hope that makes sense but thanksss if this u get to do this
"Jamie," You hiss, pressing a slightly sticky kiss to his earlobe before whispering beside it, "Jamie, wake up."
He rouses with a grunted, 'hm?', and his brown lashes flutter open to reveal sleep-ridden eyes. There's crust at the corners but you don't care, you fit yourself against him while he blinks blearily at you.
"Wha's'a matter, love?" James slurs, turning over where he's facing the wall in his bed so that he's watching you with all of the focus he can muster.
"You're never gonna believe what I heard in the break room," You gush, and just like that, James is no longer tired.
Well, he is. But he perks, his eyes widening slightly and his posture stiffening.
"'Love it when you start stories like that, darling." He rasps, voice groggy from sleep, "G'head, tell me what's happened."
You launch into the rather seedy attempt at flirting that you'd witnessed between two of your coworkers earlier, and when you reveal that they'd later been caught heavy petting in the lingerie section, his face twists into barely-withheld disgust.
"It was nasty!" You recall with the delight that only comes from the juiciest of gossip, "They got hauled into the back office and I heard they got a lecture on workplace etiquette."
"Kinda pathetic, really," James observes with his lips curled into a sneer, "I mean, he got so worked up from seeing a bra that he had to take her right then and there?"
His judgement doesn't receive the reaction he personally thinks it deserves from you. You don't giggle or agree with him, your brows merely tighten in contemplation.
Wordlessly, you peel the shoulder of your shirt away from your skin, revealing a lacy bra strap.
James swallows what little saliva he's got in his mouth, turning away from you with a huff and trying to control his now-rampant thoughts as he readjusts his pajama pants, "That's different!"
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hi love i’m obsessed with ur writing!!! may i request asking best friend!james to be ur fake bf at a party so an annoying/creepy guy leaves u alone and he immediately gets SO into it like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment 🤭🤭 LOL tysm ur such an amazing writer i hope ur doing wonderful!! ❤️❤️❤️
James is the one that notices the man staring after you under the dim lights of the party you're milling about, and you're surprised you hadn't felt the eyes on the back of your neck. But James always seems to pay rapt attention to you, so you suppose it makes sense that he'd noticed the creep first.
"There's a douche staring behind you," He leans in to murmur into your ear, and the close proximity sets your nerves on fire, "He's got a red shirt on. Don't look now, but he's starting to walk over. Want me to take care of him?"
You're not quite sure what 'take care of him' means, but James is big and burly, and you're afraid that the man in the red shirt might not make it out of the party alive if you let him. You shake your head and take hold of his bicep, drawing his attention back to you.
"No, Jamie, it's okay. Could you just- um," Your face flushes hot with sheepishness, the terrifying prospect of suggesting fake dating to your best friend, "Could you maybe-?"
"Pretend to be your boyfriend?" He guesses with unfailing accuracy, "Sure, love. C'mere, he's on his way."
James scoops you beneath one of his muscled arms and tosses his head up to look at the man who's just taken the final steps across the room to speak with you. He casts a withering glance at James's hand placement, but says nothing, still staring silently at you with the faintest of grins on his face.
He's unsettling.
"Hey, man, wish we could talk, but my girlfriend here's feeling a little queasy." James doesn't give the man an opportunity to speak, jostling your shoulder slightly in his grip, "Can you move so I can get her to the bathroom?"
The man looks crestfallen, almost angry, and you're glad for James's excuse as it means you can lean into his side and look sickly. You let him maneuver you around the man who barely moves an inch, and James ducks you into a secluded hallway, away from the man's prying eyes.
"You alright, love?" He ducks his head to study your nervous gaze, and his hands come up to cover both of your shoulders.
"Yeah," You breathe, still slightly unnerved, "Uh, thanks, James. I really appreciate it."
"Anytime, darling," He grins, and you think his smile shines brighter than the crappy rave lights that the homeowner has installed, "Tell me if you see him again, and I'll step up my boyfriend game: kiss the living daylights outta you until he finds someone else to torment."
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THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IVE EVER READ THANK TOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR DOING DANNY SO WELL
Blackbird
Daniel Ricciardo x reader
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Masterlist
Summary: You’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. When Danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan.
a/n: definitely inspired by this moodboard I made for the lovely @shootingstar-scuderia for my 1k celebration!
Word Count: 10.1k
Warnings: alcohol, mild sexual content
People come and go at the lodge, but they don’t stay for long. That is, except for you and your coworkers. They’re the only consistent people in your life. The customers, the guests- they pass through like ships in the night. They tell their stories, share their adventures, and then move on. It’s half the fun, really.
You should’ve known he’d be different from the very start. Most of them come in, sit down at the bar, and are eager to tell you all about themselves. They want to impress you, want to prove that they’re the biggest adventurer in the whole place. And sure, the road to the lodge is rough and steep and half the time it’s washed out. But most of them arrive in vehicles driven by guides, and they tote their expensive luggage through the lobby, decked out in brand new hiking gear bought special for this trip. When he shows up at the bar, he’s in a threadbare t-shirt, a pair of loose shorts, and a worn down pair of hiking boots.
He’s flanked by friends, ones who have genuine smiles on their faces and are dressed much the same. He seems to be the ringleader. The first thing you really notice about him are the tattoos scattered up and down his arms. He rests his elbows on the bar, looks utterly at home there. You wander down to take their order.
“I’ll have whatever beer you’d recommend,” he says, Australian accent shining through.
You get a lot of people with accents in the bar. They come from all over. You’re not surprised at the accent, though you might’ve guessed he was American from looking at him. You nod and pour him a glass of your current favorite before taking his friend’s orders and doing the same. He takes a sip and sends you a wide grin, one that seems genuine. People smile at you a lot, trying to get a discount on their drinks or look good in front of their friends or sometimes, more than that. But this just seems… real. Like he always smiles that brightly.
“That’s good,” he says, nodding eagerly. “A woman after my own tastes.”
You laugh and nod. “You’ve got good taste, then.”
He preens over that, runs his hand through his hair. Then he sticks the other one out to you, over the bar. “I’m Danny.”
You shake his hand, the way you do each time someone introduces themself to you. You try and commit his name to memory, because he’ll likely be back a few times before he leaves the lodge and they always tip better if you remember their names. He repeats your name back to you, like it’s not written plain as day in your nametag, like he actually cares.
He tilts his head towards you. “So. How’d you end up here?” He asks.
You raise a brow at him. “Normally I’m the one asking that question.”
He laughs. He folds his hands on each other and rests his chin on them.
“Exactly. You must hear about a billion of the same stories, rich people on their vacations, roughing it in the woods,” he laments. “So come on. What’s your story?”
You’re not sure why you tell him. Looking back, in the interest of self preservation, you probably should’ve lied. But at this angle, he’s staring up at you through thick, dark eyelashes. He has the prettiest smile you’ve seen in months, maybe years, maybe ever. So you look down the bar, make sure nobody’s waiting on you. Danny and his friends are early, so you don’t have much to worry about.
You shrug. “Graduated high school. Decided college wasn’t for me.” You pick up a rag, rub at a spot on the bar just to look busy, just to avoid looking right into his eyes. “I’ve been on the move ever since. I landed here about a year ago- cheap room and board, good tips, and,” you jerk your thumb towards the large picture windows looking out over the valley and mountains. “The view’s not so bad.”
Danny laughs at that, and his gaze flickers to the windows. The sun is just barely beginning to set. Soon the tourists will pour into the bar and restaurant, hungry and thirsty from their days full of adventures. But right now it’s quiet. The calm before the storm.
“Nice,” he says. “Bet you’ve got a lot of cool stories.”
You shrug, though you smile a bit at the thought. “Yeah. Hasn’t been a bad life, you know?”
He nods. Someone sits down at the bar, and you head down to take their order. Soon enough, you’re too busy to stop and chat with Danny, having to limit it to quick drink requests and offhanded remarks. You swear you feel his eyes on your the whole night. He closes out the tab a little before 9:00, pays for everyone and leaves a big tip. For a second, you remember that he’s probably just some big wig exec from some tech company, cosplaying as an outdoorsy man for the weekend. And that’s fine, you’ll support it as long as he’s nice to you.
He tosses a grin over his shoulder as he leaves, and sends a little wave your way. You swear he winks. And really, it was that moment that you should’ve known that Danny was going to be a problem for you.
…..
The employee cabins are in a secluded spot on the property, but you prefer to have your morning coffee on the back porch of the main lodge. It’s got the best view, the coffee is free, and at this hour, there’s nobody else up. Nobody, that is, except the man from the bar the night before. Danny, you remember. Huh. Usually it takes longer for the name to stick.
You watch over the edge of your book as he comes jogging up the path. He’s shirtless, skin glistening with sweat. It’s early morning, the sun barely poking up over the horizon, and it’s not that warm yet. Either he’s been working hard or he’s out of shape. From the glimpse you catch, you decide he’s definitely not out of shape. You force your eyes back to the book as he makes his way towards you. You won’t be caught staring at the shirtless guest. That would be a bad idea.
Said shirtless guest walks right up to you, though, and sticks his finger into the spine of the book, tugging it downward. You quirk a brow and look up at him. The audacity to interrupt your reading- you’re not sure how to even react. Your face betrays you as a smile crosses your lips.
“Good book?” He asks, nudging the cover.
You shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve read almost everything good in the library here.”
Danny wrinkles his nose. “You said you didn’t like… you know. Academic stuff.”
“I said college wasn’t for me,” you clarify. “I like reading.”
He nods in understanding, that signature smile on his lips. “So what’s this one about?”
You blink up at him. “Dragons.”
“Sounds fun.” He looks to your cup of coffee, sitting on the table in front of you. “S’the coffee any good?”
You nod. He takes a couple steps towards the building. “Can I sit with you? None of my friends are up yet.”
“Well it is 6am, and you’re on vacation. Can’t say I blame them.” You say, dancing around the question.
It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him. In fact, you have a strong urge to lean close and learn everything about this man. But he’s a guest and you’re an employee. They encourage you to be friendly with the guests- it helps them feel at home, your manager says- but not too friendly. Besides, Danny will be gone in a few days, and he’ll forget all about you the week after. It’s how it goes.
But he turns and raises his brows at you, and you sigh and nod. “Yeah, you can join me. But I want to read, so…”
“I’ll be so quiet,” Danny promises.
He scurries off to get coffee. You let out a long breath and pick the book back up. You’re definitely going to regret this decision. Danny doesn’t seem like the quiet type.
In his defense, he manages to stay quiet for about ten minutes. He sits down in one of the chairs next to yours, leaning back and sipping his coffee. From the angle, you can peek up over the edge of your book and sneak glances at him. He has his eyes closed, or at least close to it. He’s still shirtless, though you can see the t-shirt he must’ve been wearing hanging from the waistband of his shorts. You’re not looking at him, really- just trying to tell if he’s looking at you.
Then he starts to fidget. First he crosses his legs, then uncrosses them. He stretches his arms above his head, fingertips spread wide. Then he slouches in his chair and lets out a heavy sigh. You meet his eyes over the top of your book.
He raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing up so early, anyways?”
You should be irritated. This is your quiet morning- he’s interrupting your personal time. You come out here to drink coffee and read and listen to the birds, not some rich man trying to talk your ear off. But. He’s so genuine about it. Like he actually wants to know. Be friendly to the guests, you think.
“I’m a morning person,” you tell him, resting your book on your lap. “And I love it here before everyone wakes up for the day, you know? Like it’s just me and the world.”
He nods in understanding. He props one foot up on the chair, bends his knee close to his chest. His shorts slide up to reveal a whole mess of tattoos on his thigh. You tell yourself not to stare.
“That’s how coming here feels for me,” he says, softly. “Nice to be away from people for a bit.”
You’re starting to wonder if maybe he’s different.
“Like a breath of fresh air,” you suggest. “But for your mind and heart, too.” You pause and roll your eyes at yourself. “Sorry, that’s a bit hippy of me to say, but-“
“No, I agree,” he says, softly.
Someone opens the door to the lodge and calls out his name. You swear his face drops. He turns over his shoulder and nods, and then pushes himself to stand up.
“Well. See ya ‘round,” he says, voice soft.
You nod and pick up your book again. “See ya.”
…..
You get to know him, bit by dangerously intriguing bit. He works for Red Bull, apparently. Doesn’t give many details past that, so you assume it’s boring. He does know Scotty James-
“There was a guy who came here last winter, a snowboarder, he had a Red Bull helmet-“ you say, snapping your fingers. “Scotty something, wasn’t it, Will?”
Will, your coworker, is cleaning glasses at the bar. He raises his brows at you, and his gaze flickers to Danny, and then he says “Scotty James.”
You nod and turn back to Danny. “You know him?”
Danny laughs. “I was in his wedding.”
Danny also has a ranch in Australia where he rides dirt bikes in what he refers to as the ‘off season’, whatever that’s supposed to mean. He shows you a video, and honestly, you’re not one for adrenaline but it looks pretty fun. You suggest they talk to your boss about taking the ATVs out on the trails, and he perks up at the sound of that.
Danny tells you about his family, too. About his parents, his sister, his nephew and niece.
“M’trying to teach them good music,” he tells you on the back porch one morning. “None of that little kid shit.”
You laugh. “None of the educational shit, you mean.”
“Music’s not for your brain,” he scoffs. “It’s for your soul.”
“There’s at least 100 scientists who would definitely disagree,” you tease.
You agree with him more than you’ll ever let on.
When he walks into the bar one evening and you have his drink already waiting for him, you start to wonder if you’ve grown a bit too attached.
…..
Your boss, Michael, calls you up to the main lodge early the next day. He’s bent over the front desk, crossing off names and writing new ones down. He looks up at you with wide eyes, brows furrowed.
“Hey. I know you’re not up on the rotation yet, but d’you think you could cover an overnight camping trip?” He asks. “Sadie’s out sick, and Billy’s got a family emergency.”
Though your main job is in the bar, all of the staff take turns taking guests on overnight trips in the mountains near the lodge. You hike out with them, help set up all the gear, start the fire, and then help pack up the next morning and hike back. Depending on the group, it can be fun. When they’re not too high maintenance, you can sit around the fire and tell fun stories and get paid to do it. Other trips, you end up setting up all the tents and doing all the work and then you get ignored for most of the night.
“It’d be you and Will,” your boss adds.
Will’s one of your favorite coworkers. The two of you get along great. Michael knows this, and you wonder for a moment if he’s already talked to Will, or if you’ll be a bribe to get him to agree, too. You lean over the counter and sigh.
“Are they gonna be annoying?” You ask. “Like. Are they the type who’re wearing the brand new gear, or no gear at all, or are they somewhat okay?”
He juts his chin towards the back porch, and you follow his gaze. Danny’s out there, throwing a football back and forth with one of his buddies. You quirk a brow and turn back to Michael.
“He didn’t ask for me, did he?” You ask quietly.
Michael’s brows furrow. “No. Is he making you uncomfortable? You know you can tell me-“
“No,” you insist, shaking your head. “He’s nice. Just, you know, checking.”
Michael nods. “So? What d’you say? You’d leave tomorrow, come back the next morning. Quick out and back.”
You shrug and nod. “Got nothing better to do.”
The guys are missing from the bar that night. You see them come in later, arms around each other, probably just back from some sort of expedition. One of them- Blake, you think his name is- is trying to corral all of them, reminding them of their big hike the next day. They disappear into the elevator. Just before the door closes, Danny looks straight at you and gives you a wide grin.
When you meet them in the lobby the next morning, his grin stretches even wider.
“No way,” he says, eyeing your hiking backpack and the boots on your feet. “Not only are you the best bartender, you also do guided hikes?”
You nod and smile. “Only one at a time, though. Unfortunately I’m not very good at making drinks in the backcountry.”
Danny shrugs. “We’ll survive.”
You clap your hands and look around at the group. “Alright, campers, you ready to hike?”
They all nod and chime in with various agreements, so you pick up your bags and head for the doors. Danny falls into step next to you near the front, while Will takes up the back of the pack. You run through your usual spiel that you do when you lead a hike, and then you’re off.
It’s peaceful for a few minutes. Like the guys are all trying to act like good naturalists, like they’re trying to soak it all in. And then Danny trips over a rock, and someone teases him for it, and it’s all downhill from there. It’s entertaining, really- the way they pick on each other. You can tell they’re genuinely friends.
You take a break for lunch at a perfect spot overlooking a valley. Danny whistles lowly when he sees the view, and he elbows you lightly.
“You take all the guys to this spot?” He jokes, wiggling his brows at you.
You roll your eyes and elbow him back. “Just the ones who are stupid enough to follow me deep into the woods.”
That earns you a full bellied laugh, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’re struck again by how genuine he is, how his walls are down or maybe even nonexistent. It makes your chest ache.
You eat lunch together, and you point out the mountains by name from the little overlook. They’re all great at playing along. They ask how the peaks got their names, which one is your favorite, if you’ve ever made it to the top of any of them.
“That one,” you say, pointing at one of the smaller peaks. “Mount Mirlo.”
“Mirlo?” Danny asks, testing out the word.
You nod. “I think it means… blackbird? Yeah. In Spanish.” You nod your head towards the mountain. “Anyways. They drag everyone up there the week they first get hired. It’s a hazing thing.”
“It’s not hazing if it’s fun,” Will chimes in, and Danny laughs. “Admit it. You had a good time.”
“I got bit by so many mosquitos and very sunburned,” you deadpan. Then you grin. “But yeah, it was sick.”
You set back off on the hike after lunch. Eventually, you come to a log bridge over a river. Danny peers over the edge as you wait on the other side, brows raised. There’s a little spot where the water pools there.
“Looks like a good spot to jump in.”
You laugh and wrinkle your nose. “That river is absolutely frigid. It’d be like an ice bath.”
He shrugs and grins at you. “Just saying.”
The camping spot isn’t far from the bridge. Once you arrive, you begin to unpack the tents to get them set up, while Will starts getting things ready for the fire. You unroll the tents, lay out the poles, and then-
Danny’s next to you, hands on his hips. “How can we help?”
You blink up at him from where you’re crouched near the ground. “Oh, you don’t have to… usually we do the set up.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “We came here to go camping,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”
They all get started setting up the tents, and you’re amazed at how much quicker things go when there are more people actually doing work. The camp is set up in record time, and someone helps Will gather firewood. Danny insists on helping to make dinner, too, and soon everyone’s sitting around the warm fire and eating happily.
“No food in the tents,” you warn, looking around the group at all of them. “It goes in the bear box. You don’t want a bear to come looking for breakfast in your tent.”
Danny nods in agreement with wide eyes. As everyone finishes dinner, they start chatting. You sit down on the dirt and stretch out backwards, staring up at the purple hues sky. The sun is setting, and when you lay down fully on the ground, your back aches. Danny, who’s sitting next to you, lays down too and lets out a long groan. You laugh.
There’s something about the proximity that has your heart racing. His hand is next to your on the ground. If you reached out just a little you could touch his warm skin. Nobody would even notice.
A bird lands in the tree. You pull your hand away to point at it instead.
“Blackbird,” you say, and Danny nods.
“Mirlo, right?” He says. You nod in response.
The bird starts singing. You mimic the sound by whistling, albeit not very well. You drop your hand back to the ground next to you as you do, and Danny laughs affectionately, attempting to whistle too. You swear you feel his pinky touch yours, and your whistling falters.
Will pulls out the marshmallows soon after. Everyone gets excited over that. You all wander around to find good sticks to roast them with, and then meet back at the fire. You watch in absolute horror as Danny takes his marshmallow and sticks it directly into the flames. It lights on fire mere seconds later, and by the time he pulls it out with a panicked noise and blows on it frantically, it’s charred and black. He gives you a sheepish look. You sigh.
“You’re so bad at this,” you say, shaking your head.
He nods in agreement. “Always have been.”
His friends try to give him instructions, but it’s no use. By the time he’s on his third burnt marshmallow, everyone else is on their second s’more. You take pity on him- before he can char another one, you take the stick from him and roast it for him. You stare in concentration, finding just the right spot and turning it carefully until it’s roasted perfectly golden brown. Will helps you assemble the s’more, and you hand it to Danny with a soft smile.
“Here,” you say, quietly.
He takes a bite, then lets out a soft moan that has you heating up in a way you shouldn’t be. “That’s amazing,” he says. There’s melted chocolate stuck to the corner of his mouth, and your fingers itch to wipe it away for him. “I crown you queen of s’mores.”
You curtsy, nodding your head at him. He laughs and nearly drops the treat. You spot the issue before he does, and your fingers bump clumsily against his as you try to assist him. His hands are warm, and probably sticky from the marshmallows. You don’t let your touch linger long enough to find out.
Eventually, everyone heads off to bed one by one. Will gives you a questioning look when it’s just the two of you and Danny left up. One of the guides always stays up until all the guests go to bed- it’s a safety thing. You nod to Will, and he stands and stretches and heads for bed. The two do you are sitting on a sideways log next to the fire, and once Will goes into his tent, it’s just the two of you, the flames, and the dark expanse of night.
“Spooky,” Danny says quietly.
You nod. “You get used to it, after a while. The dark gets a little less scary. The quiet, too. When I first got here, the quiet was so…”
“Loud?” He says.
You laugh, but he’s right. “Yeah. Loud.”
He nods in understanding. “It still feels like that for me. My day to day life is so noisy, you know? The quiet is a little overwhelming.”
You nod and nudge his shoulder. “That’s gotta be good for you, though. Healthy, I think, to take a break from the noise.”
His shoulders drop, and he leans against you, just barely. “You’ve got no idea, little mirlo.”
You laugh and lean into him, too. He’s warm and firm against you. You could reach out, could touch him, could tuck yourself right into his side. He’d probably wrap his arm around you, probably pull you close. You bet he smells good, like sweat and smoke and laundry detergent, and maybe vanilla, or something spiced and warm, or…
His pinky bumps against yours on the log. You sick in a breath and look up at him. There’s a question in his gaze, one that has you nearly choking on thin air before he even asks it out loud.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, nearly a whisper.
And you want to say yes. God, you want to say yes. But-
“Look, Danny,” you say, keeping your voice low. “You’re a sweetheart, really. And you’re cute-“
“Perfect, so-“
“But I don’t date guests,” you say, leveling your eyes at him. “Or, like- I don’t do hookups, or get close with guests. It’s against the workplace rules, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”
He smiles softly- you think somewhere deep in your heart, you knew he’d react like this. With kindness, understanding. He tilts his head, and he squeezes your knee gently.
“Okay,” he says, softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind-“
“I won’t,” you say. You’re not sure if you’re trying to tell him or yourself.
“I know,” he agrees. You think he’s lying, too. “But if you do, promise you’ll let me know?”
You snort out a laugh and stick out your pinky. “Promise.”
He goes to bed soon after that. You stay up until the fire goes out, staring at the coals, wondering if you’ve made the right choice.
….
When you wake up the next morning to a shuffling noise outside your tent, your first thought is that the bears have finally come for you.
Your second thought, when you hear Danny’s laughter, bright and loud, is: why the hell is he awake? You can tell from the light outside that it’s barely morning. You hadn’t been planning on waking up for a few more hours, really. You hear him whisper your name loudly, and you groan, reaching to unzip the door to your tent just slightly.
He’s crouching in front of your tent, wearing a wide smile. “Wanna come jump in the river?”
You wonder for a second if this is some insane, weird dream. You blink and rub your eyes, but no, he’s still there.
“What?” You ask, voice scratchy with sleep.
“We’re gonna do a cold plunge,” he says. “Wanna join?”
“I thought you were a bear, you know.” You say, and he grins impossibly wider.
He makes a low growling noise. Behind him, near the fire ring, you hear one of his friends laugh. He rolls his eyes and reaches his hand out, tapping on the door of the tent.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he says.
“I didn’t bring my swimsuit,” you say. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call a cold plunge fun.”
Somehow, though, you find yourself following him, and his friends down to the river. You’re not surprised to find they haven’t talked Will into joining- he promises to have hot coffee waiting for all of you. You’re in a pair of spandex shorts and a baggy shirt- the same clothes you’d worn to sleep. Danny’s reassured you that none of them have real swimsuits either, and you figure you can let the clothes dry by the fire while you make breakfast when you get back. The morning is quiet as you all hike to the bank of the river, other than the sound of water getting louder and louder. There’s the bridge you crossed over on the way, and the little pool that Danny had said looked like the perfect spot to jump in.
“You know, when you mentioned jumping in yesterday, I thought you were joking,” you tell him. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”
“Health,” he deadpans.
You stare at him, wide eyed, waiting for him to expand on the statement. When he doesn’t, you roll your eyes and kick off your shoes anyways. He picks his way down the riverbank, peering over the edge into the pool of water. You follow along, wanting to get it over with.
He turns over his shoulder, grins at you, and then jumps in feet first.
He emerges from the crystal clear water with that same stupid smile on his lips. He wipes droplets of water from his face as he treads water, letting out a loud whoop. You want to scold him for scaring off any potential wildlife, but then he’s waving you in, calling your name. You sigh and brace yourself, consider chickening out for a moment, and then jump in after him.
The icy water shocks your senses so badly that you have to remind yourself to not breathe in underwater. It feels like needles all over your skin for a few moments, then uncomfortable numbness. When you emerge above the surface, you do so with a sharp scream, and to the sound of Danny’s laughter. You shake your head wildly and try to brush the cold water off your face with shaking hands. Then you swim for the bank.
“Gotta stay in,” Danny calls out, and you turn to look at him. “No health benefits if you just jump right back out. Give it a few seconds.”
You glare at him, teeth already chattering. “I think you’re full of shit.”
Even if he is, you stay in the water. You find a spot where your feet can at least touch the bottom. The rest of his friends jump in, too, splashing each other and Danny. You laugh as you watch them, watch the pure joy of a bunch of men turning back into children again. Finally, Danny swims for the bank and reaches for your hand to help pull you out. Your whole body shakes and shivers, and there are no towels to dry off with, because this wasn’t in the plans. There are wool blankets, however, and Danny picks one up and holds it out wide. In a moment of weakness and extreme cold, you let him wrap you up in it. There’s water glistening on his skin- you try not to stare. Nobody’s around to see other than his friends, anyways.
The whole group trudges back up to the campsite, where Will has a fire roaring and water for coffee heating up. You duck into your tent to change into dry clothes, and you take everything other than your underwear back out with you to dry. You’re not ready for the guys to see that this early in the morning.
You sit down on one of the logs, bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants. Your wet hair drops cold water onto the back of your neck, and you shiver. The guys are still in their tent, and you can hear them chattering with each other. Will is eyeing you warily.
“I really didn’t think they’d talk you into it,” he says, quietly.
You shrug and muffle a yawn into your elbow. “He’s persuasive.”
Will quirks a brow. “Yeah?”
You close your eyes and drag a hand down your face. “Not like that.”
He hums. “The dude obviously has a crush on you.”
You pull your knee up to your chest. “I know. We talked about it. I told him… you know. It’s against the company policy-“
“You do remember how I met my wife, right?” He asks, quietly.
You keep your eyes closed, mostly because you don’t want to see the look on his face. “Yeah. Shut up.”
“Just saying,” he says, softly.
Before you can respond, there’s a commotion from the tent. You open your eyes to Danny stumbling his way towards the two of you, now dressed in a fuzzy sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. He saunters over to you and stops short, warming his hands on the fire.
“Well? Feeling the health effects?” He asks.
“I feel like a drowned rat,” you state, glaring up at him.
“You look like a drowned rat,” Will chimes in. You elbow him harshly.
“Mm, no, cuter than a drowned rat. Maybe a drowned koala. A drowned puppy?” Danny suggests, then frowns. “Alright, never mind, that felt morbid.”
The three of you laugh. One by one, his friends make appearances. Will hands out coffee and asks about the river, and you smile at the retelling of events. Eventually, you pack up all the gear- with help from everyone, a happy change from most groups, and head down the trail once again.
You know Danny will forget about you after he leaves, but you wonder if you’ll ever be able to lead another camping trip to this spot without thinking of him.
…..
Danny sticks to his word- he doesn’t make a move again. He does continue to spend time with you. You’re not exactly complaining, but it doesn’t make your decision any easier. He finds you on the back porch the next morning after the camping trip and resumes your morning coffee tradition. You put the book down fully this time- slip the bookmark into your page and close the cover. Your time may be limited with him, but you’re going to soak up every second.
You’re trying desperately not to get attached. It’s not working. He’s telling you a story about Australia, about his ranch there, about the dirt bikes and his parents and everything in between. And you sit there and regret ever telling him he couldn’t kiss you.
You know it was the right choice. Know it’ll only cause you heartbreak. But he’s so attractive, and sweet, and he loves his mother- his mum, even the way he says it is cute. You want to tell him you changed your mind. You sip your coffee instead.
You’ll be able to survive the rest of the week. Danny and his friends leave on Saturday. It’s Thursday now. That’s only a few more interactions, if you’re lucky. Only a couple more back porch morning coffee meetings, a few more drinks at the bar. You’ll survive, he’ll leave, and you’ll both move on. He probably already has.
Then you’re in the break room and you hear someone mention the Friday bonfire and Danny’s name in the same sentence, and your heart drops.
You and your coworkers have bonfires down by the employee housing every Friday. People who are working join after their shifts, and you all rotate the early Saturdays to make sure everyone can have a good time at least once a month. It’s your way to unwind. It’s supposed to be employees only, and sometimes a couple people’s friends. The only guests who’ve ever attended a bonfire since you started working at the lodge were a girl named Britt and her friends, and now Britt is married to your coworker Will.
“So Danny actually said they’d be at the bonfire?” Will asks, and you turn to stare at them.
Maybe he’s not talking about your Danny. You shake your head, knowing that calling him yours, even in your head, is stupid.
“Danny?” You ask. “Like- Danny?”
Will nods.
“What happened to no guests at bonfires?” You ask, turning towards the coffee maker to start another pot.
Tony, one of the kitchen staff, laughs. “Yeah, sure, but it’s a bit different when it’s Danny Ric, isn’t it?”
You shake your head in confusion and turn back to your two coworkers. “Have you even met him, Tony? Why are you out here calling him nicknames?”
Tony blinks widely at you. “That’s what everyone calls him.”
“Everyone.”
Tony nods and shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth. You grimace. Will watches the two of you, an amused smile on his face. Someone calls Tony’s name, and he goes racing towards the kitchen, leaving his pasta abandoned on the table. You turn your stare to Will. Suddenly, you realize something.
“He’s like…” you sigh and sink down into a nearby chair. “He doesn’t just work for Red Bull, does he?”
Will laughs. “He told you he was in Scotty James’ wedding and you really thought he was just some company exec?”
“Will, I barely know who Scotty is!” You snap. “You should’ve told me.”
Will shrugs and pats your shoulder when he walks past you. “It was more fun this way. Besides, if he didn’t tell you, bet he didn’t want you to know.”
“What does he-“ you cut yourself off. “I mean, is he an athlete, then?”
Will is scraping food from his plate into the compost bin. “You ever heard of Formula One?”
You pick at your salad. “It’s like NASCAR, isn’t it?”
He makes a coughing noise. “Okay, maybe don’t start with that. I’ll give you a basic rundown.”
When you do see Danny the next morning, bright and early, you choose to start with, “good morning, Danny Ric,” instead.
He pauses halfway across the porch, hands at his sides. His skin is glistening with sweat. You’re wearing sunglasses- the perfect chance to let your eyes wander, just a little bit. He wipes at his brow and cocks his head.
“You don’t just work for Red Bull,” you say, and he chews on his lower lip. “I mean, understatement of the century.”
He laughs at that and takes a few steps towards you. “Yeah. Sorry.”
You shrug. “You could’ve told me, you know. I wouldn’t have treated you any differently.”
Instead of going for his normal spot in the chair next to yours, he stands in front of you. If he moved just an inch farther, his knee would touch yours. He sighs.
“I know. It wasn’t that. Honestly, I just figured you wouldn’t care,” he says with a shrug. “Like. You must get so many people here trying to convince you they’re not boring. It’s gotta get exhausting.”
You laugh at that. “Yeah, but your job is actually interesting,” you say. “You know, it does explain all the running. And all the adrenaline chasing.”
He finally sits down- you breath a sigh of relief. You weren’t really sure how he’d feel if you brought it up, but you hated the idea of knowing something about him without him knowing. You stick to your word- you don’t treat him differently. You pick your book back up and read for a bit until he gets fidgety, until he decides he wants to tell you another story. And then you listen with a smile, because it’s Danny. The joy is infectious.
…..
“You ever been to Yosemite?” He asks you later that afternoon.
You’re working the lunch shift at the bar. Danny had been wandering through the lobby, spotted you, and sat down for a drink. He’s having a mocktail, something you came up with just for him. You wonder how long it’ll be before one of his entourage comes looking for him. His phone has been buzzing repeatedly on the bar, and he’s been ignoring it.
You shake your head. “Not yet. It’s on my bucket list,” you say.
He nods. “That’s where we’re headed next. Spending a week there, and then it’s back to work.”
You blow out a long breath through pursed lips. “Your life is so difficult,” you say, teasingly.
He grins and shakes his head. “Wanna come with?”
You laugh as you scrub at a spot on the bar. You wait for him to echo the sound. He doesn’t. You look up at him, wide eyed. He should be laughing, he always laughs at his own jokes- it should be annoying, but it’s sort of endearing, the way he can’t finish a sentence sometimes, how he doesn’t make it to the punchline.
But he’s not laughing. “I’m being serious,” he says.
“Danny,” you say with a soft sigh. “We have a policy-“
“As friends,” he interrupts. “I promised I wouldn’t pressure you. That’s not what this is. You’re just… really cool, and we’ve got room in the car, and… I could really use your s’mores skills. Blake is shit at it.”
You cock your head at him. “I have to work. Not all of us get week long vacations in the middle of tourist season.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Right. Yeah.”
“Sorry,” you say, realizing you’re being a little harsh. “And thank you. The invite is really sweet. I just…”
I just can’t look at you without wanting to kiss you. The words are there, at the forefront of your mind and on the top of your tongue. It’s becoming a real problem, because he’s about to leave and you’re going to be stuck here, waiting and hoping he comes back. And he’s sitting here, asking you to go to a national park with him, and you want to say yes so badly because you think that maybe kissing him would be the best thing you’ve ever done. That maybe letting him in might be the right choice.
But he’s a guest, it’s against the rules, and he’s leaving. He sighs and nods, downs the last of his mocktail. He finally picks up his phone and raises his brows, then gives you a sheepish look.
“Gotta go,” he says, softly. “But I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
You nod. “See you tonight.”
…..
You take your time getting ready for the bonfire. It’s difficult- usually you wouldn’t think twice about what you’re going to wear, or what you look like. But Danny’s going to be there, and suddenly everything’s different. You have a thin line to walk- go all out, and your coworkers will notice and tease you. Don’t put in enough effort, and maybe Danny won’t even look your way tonight.
You eventually settle on a pair of jeans and a crew neck sweatshirt. The sun has just gone down, and there’s already a chill in the air. You make your way down to the bonfire area, following the well worn trail and the smell of smoke.
Danny’s already there, standing around near the firepit. His friends are all scattered with the rest of your coworkers, eating hot dogs that were cooked over the fire and chatting. Someone’s set up lawn games, far enough from the firepit to keep anyone from getting injured. You grab a drink from the cooler and make your way towards the group, trying not to stare at Danny.
He calls out your name, though, in front of everyone, which gives you a valid excuse to make your way towards him. You weave through throngs of people and end up right by his side. He’s been chatting with Will and Britt, which you think is probably a dangerous combination for your sake.
“Bout time you showed up,” Danny says brightly. “I’m in s’mores withdrawal, and once I’ve had one of yours, I can’t go back.”
You laugh and kick your toe at the ground. “I told you, I did absolutely nothing different.”
“Nah, he’s right,” Britt chimes in, and you throw a glare in her direction. “You’re a s’mores magician.”
You sigh and roll your eyes, and then you turn to Danny. “You get me the supplies and I’ll make you a s’more.”
He bounces away eagerly. Both Will and Britt are watching you with knowing looks. Feeling childish, you stick your tongue out at them. Will manages to look vaguely offended, while Britt just laughs.
Danny returns with a roasting stick and all the s’mores ingredients. You take them without complaint, watching his hands as he gets the crackers and chocolate set up. He follows you closer to the fire as you search for just the right spot.
“He kept burning his to a crisp on the camping trip,” you tell Britt, a teasing lilt to your voice. “That’s why I made him one. He was helpless.”
Britt laughs. Danny jabs at your side, and you let out a yelp. Your drink is hanging from your other hand, and you take a sip before you stick the marshmallows over the fire. Across the fire, Tony, the guy who called Danny Danny Ric, is watching you with wide eyes and whispering to one of your other coworkers. This is what you were worried about- get close to Danny, and people will start talking. But he’s leaving tomorrow, and you can’t bring yourself to care.
“See, it’s not about the flames,” you tell Danny, who leans closer to listen. You gesture with your beer. “It’s the coals. You find the right spot, and then you gotta have patience. It’s a slow process.”
He lets out a hiss. “M’not good at patience. Or slow.”
You roll your eyes and smirk. “I’m sure you’re very fast.”
He gasps in mock hurt and digs his fingers into your ribs again. You squeak and bat his hand away.
“You’re gonna ruin the marshmallows!” You warn as he reaches for you again.
He pulls his hand back and smiles innocently. You take a sip of your drink and stare up at him through your lashes, the same way he does to you when he’s sitting at the bar. You wonder if it has the same effect on him as it does on you. From the way he swallows, you think it might.
…..
You’ve only had a couple drinks, because as much as you’ve said you’re going to forget about him, you really do want to remember every last moment. It gets late far too quickly. The stars are out, and the moon too, casting everything in a silvery glow. The moonlight paints one side of Danny’s face- the fire, the other. Warm and cold at the same time.
More than half the people who started the night there have wandered back to their rooms and cabins. Danny’s friends all went to bed a while ago, gave him stern instructions to join them soon. They’re leaving early tomorrow, getting up with the sun and heading out. He needs sleep.
Instead, he’s sitting next to you on a log next to the fire. Your knees are touching, shoulders brushing with every movement. He’s nursing his second beer of the night. You stare at the rose tattoo on his hand and fight the urge to trace the inked lines.
He nudges your shoulder lightly. You stare up at him, face warm, not from the fire.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asks, voice low.
You shrug. You can’t tell him. I want to kiss you. I want to feel your hands on me. I want to read the tattoo on your chest, trace the lines of all of them. I want you. I changed my mind. Except, really, you’ve wanted this the whole time.
“Just tired,” you say instead, rubbing your thumb against the can in your hand. “I know it’s your last night here and all, but I might head to bed.”
It hits you like a sucker punch as you say it- if you go now, you’re saying goodbye. You could get up early and see him off, but you think that’d be a bit much. He seems to realize it too- his face drops.
“I’ll walk you back,” he offers.
“You don’t have to,” you answer.
You want him to. But you know what you’ll do if you make it to the door of your cabin and he’s standing next to you. You know the choice you’ll make. You’ll regret it in the morning when he’s gone and already forgetting about you, when you’re just the girl he hooked up with at the lodge on his vacation, when he goes back to his life of luxury and supermodels and-
“I want to,” he says, softly. “There’s bears here, you know.”
He growls lowly, right near your ear. You giggle to cover up the way it makes you feel like you’re on fire. When he stands and holds out his hand to help you up, you let him. He says goodbye to a couple people. You avoid Will and Britt’s gazes. Then the two of you set off down the path.
He keeps his distance. I’m not going to push you on this, because I don’t want to be a creep. But if you change your mind… You reach out, bump your hand against his. Knuckle to knuckle. He echoes the touch. Then you wiggle your fingers against his, desperately hoping he gets the message. When he tangles his fingers with yours, something slips into place.
There’s this energy thrumming in your body when you make it to the cabin area. You’re sure you’re shaking with it, even more sure that he’s noticed. You head for your cabin and squeeze his fingers. It’s dark here, nothing but the light of the moon to see by. You walk up to the door, his hand still in yours.
“D’you wanna come in for a drink?” You ask, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.
He squeezes your fingers. You turn over your shoulder and meet his eyes. They’re half lidded and dark. Like he knows where this is going.
“I don’t want to pressure you,” he says. “That’s not what this was about. I don’t-“
“I know,” you say with a nod. “I know.”
He nods, ducks his head. You push open the cabin door and step inside, hand still linked with his. He takes a deep breath.
“I won’t be offended if you don’t want to,” you say, softly. “You can change your mind, too.”
His eyes slip closed, and he shakes his head. Then he follows you in through the open door.
He’s the one to shut it. And then his hand slips from yours and falls to your hip, pulling you close. You wrap your arms around his neck. Your heart is racing in your chest. You wonder if his is too. You blink up at him, watching the way his jaw clenches.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks again, for the second time in a week.
“Please?” You ask, softly.
It’s like all his resolve disappears with that one single word. The night fades around you- it's just you and him. Nothing else matters.
His lips are hot and insistent against yours. When his hands fall to your hips, they’re even hotter and more insistent. He walks you back towards the bed, shoving at your sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath it. You do the same with his hoodie, hands scrambling underneath, searching for skin. The skin you’ve been looking at all week, wishing you could touch- you can, now.
He’s in your room, in your space, and he backs you up to the bed. Your knees hit the mattress, and you fall back, away from his kissing, with a soft laugh. You stare up at him through your lashes, your whole body on fire. His hand falls to your knee and draws a slow line up your thigh. You reach up and tug on the hem of his sweatshirt, chest already rising and falling rapidly.
He leans over you, and you know your hand in the neck of the fabric, trying to pull him closer. He has himself propped up over you with one hand, eyes lit up like firelight, lips parted.
“Kiss me,” you whine, as his palm falls to your hip and squeezes. “Danny-“
His lips meet yours again, and it’s frantic after that. You shove his shirt over his head- yours follows it to the pile on the floor. He steps out of his jeans after you undo the button and the zipper, and then he’s tugging your pants down your legs, breath catching in his chest as he gazes down at you. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting down, and you trace fingers up the ridges of his abdomen. He traces a line from your navel up the center of your chest, presses his thumb to your lips, and you whine.
“Please, Danny,” you breathe.
His eyes slip shut. “M’trying to prove I can be slow and patient.”
You gasp as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah- well- I can’t, so-“
He laughs lowly, and with his other hand, he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. “C’mon, little blackbird,” he says, and you writhe on the bed underneath him as he runs a thumb over your core, pressing into the wetness there. “Sure you can.”
When he sinks to his knees and buries his face between your legs, you thank the stars you didn’t let him leave without getting a taste of this, of him.
…..
After, the two of you lay spent in your bed. You’re tracing lines on his bare skin, both still naked. There are marks all over your bodies- hickies and fingerprints and bite marks. You’ll be feeling him inside of you for days, you’re sure. You run your finger under the words on his chest. Of Love And Life.
You know the song, so you start to whistle it. His laughter rumbles under your ear, deep in his chest, and then he starts to sing along with your whistling. It’s silly. If you told any of your friends about it, they’d cringe. But you feel the vibration of the words under his ribs and wish you could stay like this forever.
Eventually he stops singing, and you stop whistling. His hand sweeps up your bare back, fingers drawing shapes on your spine.
“Your cabin is cute,” he says.
You pick your head up and rest your chin on your hand that lays flat on his chest. “Thanks.”
He nods towards the poster on the wall. Yosemite is written in big letters, and you sigh.
“Offer’s still open,” he says, quietly. “No pressure. But.”
You let your eyes fall closed. “Danny.”
He cranes his neck up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I know. Sorry. I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.”
“We won’t say goodbye then. We’ll say see you later,” you suggest. It’s cheesy, but it feels right. “And you can stay the night, if you want.”
You expect him to say no. You’re sure his friends are going to panic when they realize he’s not in the room. But he just nods and pulls you close, and you rest your head on his chest again, and soon enough, you’re falling asleep, just like that.
You wake up the next morning before the sun is even up. The alarm on his phone is going off, and he’s doing a very bad job of muffling his swearing as scrambles out of bed to search for it. You tug the blankets over your head and groan until he shuts the noise off. You hear his footsteps, heading back to the bed. He tugs the blanket down so he can see your eyes and leans close.
“I gotta go, baby,” he says, quietly. It’s like it pains him.
“Yeah, I know,” you say, feeling like it pains you just as much.
He kisses your forehead and pulls the blanket down farther. He sits down on the edge of your bed and plants on hand right next to your head. You turn your face, press your lips to the inside of his wrist. Then you wrap your hand around his bicep and sigh.
“Thank you,” he says. “I had an amazing time this week. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
You laugh and squeeze his arm. “You just liked the s’mores.”
“No, I-“
“I know. Me too. Thank you,” you say.
He kisses your lips one more time. You press your hand to his cheek and try to burn this into your brain. Then he kisses your forehead again and stands up with a long stretch.
“See you later, mirlo,” he says, sounding more unsure than you’ve ever heard him.
“See you later,” you echo.
You watch him leave. Watch him walk to the door, watch the slope of his shoulders under his sweatshirt. Something awful twists in your chest.
“Hey, Danny, do me a favor?” You call out. He turns, brows raised.. “Try not to forget me, yeah?”
The corner of his lips tugs up into a half smile. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”
You close your eyes so you don’t have to watch him leave. You hear the latch of the door and bury your face in your pillow, resisting the urge to scream. You’d have at least three of your coworkers at the door if you did. The last thing you need is to alert anyone of Danny’s presence in your cabin, though they probably already know. You don’t want to give them any sort of confirmation, though. You roll over in bed and open your eyes, and you’re met with bright blue fabric, folded neatly on top of the other pillow. Danny’s t-shirt, left behind. Deliberately, it seems, from the way it’s folded. It’s some souvenir shirt from a ski chalet you’ve never heard of. He’d been wearing it the night before- you took it off of him. He left it on purpose for you to find. For you to have. In your moment of weakness, you grab it and press it to your nose and breathe in. That’s when you realize you’re absolutely never getting over him.
And then, you think. He left his shirt. He wanted you to have something to remember him by. In all of this, maybe you’re not the only one afraid of being forgotten. He’s larger than life, he’s a damn celebrity, but he’s leaving a little piece of him behind so you have a reminder. Like he knows you’ll put the shirt in your drawer and feel that feeling in your chest every time you reach for a different one. The bright blue is permanently burned into your brain.
Feeling especially self pitying, you reach for your phone, knowing that your camera roll from the past week is filled with pictures of him. May as well wallow in it, right?
…..
Danny throws the last bag into the trunk of the car and sighs. Blake slaps his shoulder, heavy handed, so hard it almost hurts. Maybe he needs that.
He’s been looking all over for you. He’d thought maybe you’d come to see them off, or that he’d at least see you once more before he left. But you’re not on the back porch reading, and you’re not in the restaurant, and you’re not in the employee break room, either. He thinks about going to your cabin and then realizes that would be crazy, and probably a little creepy. You’ve already said goodbye- or see you later, but still.
Someone starts the car. He drags a hand down his face. “I need coffee,” he says, and Blake nods.
Danny jerks his thumb towards the lodge and then walks in to grab a cup to go. He’s only delaying the inevitable, really. If you were going to show up to say goodbye, you’d already be there. He should just be happy with what he’s had. Happy that you let him in the way you did. He should’ve known it would only leave him wanting more, but it’s a bit late for that now.
He walks back outside, cup of coffee in hand, a frown on his face. His friends are packing the last bags and climbing into the car, and Blake is-
He nearly trips over his own feet, nearly spills his coffee down his chest. Because Blake is talking to you. You’re standing there, a book in one hand, his blue t-shirt in the other. His gut twists. Blake sees Danny and backs away to give the two of you space. Danny’s heart is racing as he walks up to you.
You hold the shirt out to him. “You left this.”
He left it on purpose, and he thought that was pretty obvious. Maybe that was unfair. Maybe it was selfish of his to want to leave a reminder of himself for you. He frowns and reaches for the shirt, tries to take it from your hand. You don’t let go when he pulls on it, and he looks at you in confusion.
“You left it on purpose,” you say, quietly.
He nods and swallows. “I didn’t want you to forget me, either.”
You nod back. You’re staring up at him, this knowing look in your eyes that has him frozen right in place. His heart skips a beat in his chest. You tilt your head towards the trunk of the car- there’s another bag sitting there, on top of all the rest of them.
“Blake says that seat’s still open,” you say, and he holds his breath. “And Will texted me this morning and said they’ve covered all my shifts for the week, for some reason.” He shrinks under your gaze, knowing that’s probably because he mentioned the Yosemite trip, and his inviting you, to Will. “So.”
“So,” he echoes, a little bit scared to believe that what he thinks is happening actually is.
You shrug and shoot him a bright, sunny smile. “I’ve always wanted to see Yosemite. And you need a s’mores girl. Still want me to come along?”
When he sweeps you into a big, dramatic kiss, right there on the front lawn of the lodge, you don’t complain. You just wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. In the trees above your heads, a blackbird sings.
for posterity’s sake please let it be known that i mostly finished this on January 31st, 2024, and then woke up to the news that Lewis Hamilton is going to ferrari in 2025. I feel like that is an important detail to be known. I decided to post it anyways. Thanks for reading the longest fic i have ever written i hope you enjoyed 💛
taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully
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what are you even supposed to do when youre angry.  cant scream at anyone cos im not a dick. cant break anything cos i paid money for that. cant rip my hair out cos i need it on my head. literally what now
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