#such a contrast to daniel i think too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

earlysunshines · 6 months ago

Text

just pretend(?)

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: your coworker can’t seem to fall out of love with you so you convince your best friend to fake date you. sometimes the “fake” seems a little too real.

warnings: PINING!!! ; danielle is touchy and wonderful and reader is a mess ; kinda all over the place?? I'm also a bit iffy ab the pacing on this one ; bit of angst near the end ; alcohol ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread… none of my fics are…

a/n: this is based off my life rn bc my friend and i r literally fake dating so my coworker can stop being in love w me and i just HAD to turn this into a fic like what (but most of this is exaggerated ofc esp the whole coworker thing I made her a little over the top on purpose for the plotLOL)

"absolutely not." hanni looks disgusted, almost appalled with that stupid expression on her face. “you’re crazy.”

"please, i'll pay you." you beg, clasping your hands together and giving her your best puppy eyes.

"you're going to scare the hoes away... no, no, and no.”

"what ‘hoes’ hanni? when is the last time you've talked to a girl." you groan and pinch the bridge of your nose.

she sticks her tongue out at you, then responds, “you wouldn’t know…”

“dumbass the only reason i’m begging is because women do want me. please, it’s not going to be serious or anything—“

“i don’t care, the answer is no. ask someone else!”

you’re currently perched on the edge of your best friend's bed, practically begging for help. you seem to have a knack for attracting the strangest types of people, and this time, it’s your coworker who’s got severe attachment issues and an unhealthy level of codependency. all you wanted was a paycheck and simplicity, but now you find yourself in a situation you never asked for.

your best friend groans again, “you and your flirting… it gets you into this shit time and time again and the way you act… you know what you’re doing.”

“what?”

“shut up, you act gay and you know people fall for that. i’m not gonna help you because you want to be an asshole, if you could just be normal for once—“

“fuck you.” you flop onto her bed, shutting your eyes and rubbing your face. “i’m just nice and it’s fun to flirt! it’s nothing. i flirt with my friends and you all the time, they’re fine with it.”

“that’s because they’re straight, y/n. gay people are very vulnerable – except me.”

“you would know.” you retort, earning a glare from hanni. “who the hell do i ask then?”

“haerin?”

“she wouldn’t.”

“yunjin?”

“we don’t match, plus, she dates around.”

“sakura?”

“edating someone right now, some girl in france?”

“the hell?”

“i know.” you sigh louder and hanni just looks at you with slight, playful disgust. “what do i do.” you flop your hands onto the mattress and stare up. “dude, she’s too obsessed, i’m flattered because i mean, maybe i’m attractive and whatnot but this is just–”

“--delusion at its peak.” hanni clicks her tongue, now smiling at you; an idea pops up in your best friend's big head. you turn to face her, raising a brow. “how about dani? she’s literally perfect.”

danielle marsh is perfect, that’s the problem.

she’s a biology major whose ipad pro notes are so neat and pleasing to the eye that they genuinely keep you awake at night – most of it being because you’re leeching off her, but they’re so neat it really has you thinking how she does it all.

to make things even more bewildering (and impressive), she’s one of two people you know – you’re unsure whether your cousin hyein counts, high school is nothing compared to what you endure – who manages to get at least eight hours of sleep daily. in contrast, everyone else in your circle, including yourself, is barely hanging on by a thread.

yet, danielle seems to have cracked the code. she even finds time to volunteer at the library where she works, making you wonder if she’s some sort of extraordinary being. her ability to balance everything so effortlessly leaves you in awe, often questioning if she’s even real considering how remarkable she is.

the worst part is that she’s your best friend, right after hanni, and the person you’ve been crushing on since your first semester of university.

it’s impossible not to have a crush on her—she’s gorgeous, sweet, and embodies everything you could ever want and more. she’s captivating, and every time you see her she flashes that stupid, adorable smile that makes your heart do a flip regardless of how many times you’ve convinced yourself that she’s unattainable and that there’s no way and that you don’t even like her and–

“i couldn’t.” you shut hanni down, quick. “she’s… you know.”

hanni furrows both brows, turning her head. “she’s what?”

“you know.” you make some strange gesture with your hands that only confuse hanni further.

“i don’t, just fake date her.”

“she wouldn’t agree.”

“sure she would, let me call her!”

you shoot up and look at hanni with an expression that screams ‘are you out of your mind?’ as she finds danielle’s contact on her phone.

before you can stop her, you hear a ringing sound and feel your body give up. hanni grins at you when danielle picks up five seconds later, both of you hearing a friendly, “hi!” as you back away from her.

“hey mo dani!” hanni greets, giving you a shit eating smirk. “miss l/n has a question for you.”

“she’s with you?” danielle’s voice is sweet like honey even from the phone. “hi!”

“hey!” you greet a little awkwardly, glaring at hanni.

“y/n was wondering if you could date her.”

eyes widening, you leap and grab the phone from hanni immediately, sputtering out jumbles of words nervously, “n-no! i mean, yeah… but not for real.”

“oh,” you hear danielle respond lowly from the end of the phone. “wait, i’m confused.”

hanni watches you close your eyes tightly, clearly flustered and thrown off by her little antics.

“y/n came over to ask me to date her, not actually, but just like, pretend.” hanni explains, “her coworker is still in love with her.”

“sarah?” you hear from the other end of the phone. “i thought you rejected her like, three months ago.”

“i did, but she’s still… ugh.” you flop onto the bed again and danielle hears hanni laughing in the background. “she’s still stuck on me i think, i don’t know, she’s been so…”

“if it’ll stop bothering you then i’ll help!”

“you will?” you respond, shocked. hanni mouths an i told you, then gets shoved.

“yeah! i don’t want my best friend being so bothered, it must make you uncomfy too, right? working with someone who likes you?”

you start to wonder if danielle would be uncomfortable in a similar situation, maybe in one where she’s friends with someone who likes her, but she’s unaware of that. you shake your head, clearing your mind and staying present.

“kind of, it’s just… extra stress.”

“okay, then let’s date!” she beams, you can picture her eyes scrunching and smile growing. you want to die (affectionate) just thinking of it. “this should be fun!”

“thanks for helping out dani, thanks so much. i’ll let you be, okay? gotta go um… run errands.”

“alright! just text me, bye, love you.” the call ends and you sigh again, feeling yourself sink deeper into hanni’s sheets.

hanni is very much your mortal enemy, she still doesn’t know why you’re so distraught because of danielle. whatever the reason may be, it makes her cackle next to you.

–

it’s nine in the morning, you didn’t have time to pregame the lecture on microbiology with at least three shots of espresso, and you’re yawning as you leave the room.

you hear your name being called out and turn to see no one other than the feeling of hot chocolate on a cold, snowy day turned into a person walking towards you – danielle.

“hey! hi.” she greets, smiling wide. her hair is clipped up and small strands of her hair stick out cutely. “hey baby.”

you almost choke. “what?”

“did you forget we’re dating now?”

“oh.” dating, but is it even that if it’s not real? “um, hey babe?” it comes out uncertain and danielle laughs.

“wow, you suck at this – it’s okay, we’ll work on it.” she giggles, then links her arms with you. “let’s go get coffee, i need it in my system right now. oh my god, it’s our first date!”

laughing to hopefully fade away all signs of being flustered to oblivion, you tighten your arm that’s locked with hers. “right, yeah.”

you’re going on a ‘date’ with the prettiest girl on campus, she’s paying for your iced americano with oat milk splashed into it, and she’s smiling at you like you’re laughter in the rain. this can’t be good for you, it can’t be — it’s not. you wonder whether this will be worth it in the end because your coworker doesn’t even know about any of it.

(yet.)

–

before your next shift with your delusional coworker, you and danielle have already conjured up a storyline and backstory for your whole arrangement.

you two conversed for an hour after walking towards the park near her apartment and sitting down next to each other on the swings like kids. danielle was giggling and you were smiling at how charming she looked. unfortunately, you found yourself falling even harder for her just from making up the whole fake story.

danielle suggested keeping it simple, but cute: you two met at the library she worked at, you found her cute and exchanged numbers, went on a few dates, and have been girlfriends for nearly two months.

“but i literally told sarah that i wasn’t looking for anything.” you explain, sighing as you kick the mulch on the ground. that’s what you had said, but what you meant was that you’ve been looking for danielle the whole time. “she won’t believe it.”

“well,” danielle gives you a cheeky look and giggles. “i managed to charm you in a way that pushed that whole idea aside. that’s not too unbelievable, right?” she winks at you and you feel your heart stop momentarily.

you scoff playfully and snicker, “oh shut up.”

“it’s part of the story! are you saying i have no charm…”

she has too much charm.

“dani, you’re such a dork.”

“a dork that caught your heart! i think this story is perfect.”

pushing aside the slight ache in your heart and the flush in your cheeks, the two of you formulate a first date story: you took her out bowling, where you lost terribly to her (danielle insisted this detail had to be included), and then you both had dessert together at your place.

it’s not a terrible story, not at all. even hanni would be impressed, but you’re not going to tell her because she’d tease you both relentlessly, and you’re not sure your heart could handle that.

–

danielle walks you into work holding your hand, your coworker, sarah, watches the whole thing.

a pretty girl (pretty is an understatement in your opinion) smiles at you while walking you in, she’s telling you about the little kids she read to the other day and you can’t help but marvel at the excitement coursing through her.

she drops you off near the register right before the small ‘employees only’ sign, then holds both of your hands and looks at you like you’re a flower that’s just bloomed beautifully.

she pauses, observing you closely, then smiles wider. “okay, i’ll get going sweetheart.” the pet name makes you swallow subtly. “have fun at work!”

she takes her hands away from yours, making your skin feel a little colder. “bye, see you.”

danielle glances at your coworker, who’s looking at her with something mixed with confusion, anger, and a hint of disgust. she then looks back at you – a better sight in her opinion – smiling and waving once more before walking away.

you stay there, frozen for a few seconds, before walking behind the counter and setting your bag down.

as you grab your apron, you catch sarah in your peripheral and turn to greet her. “oh, hey.”

“who was that?” she asks immediately. “what’s up with the ‘sweetheart?’”

you grin as while tightening the lace of your apron, then respond, “my girlfriend.” and it feels wonderful rolling off your tongue.

“what? i thought you didn’t want anything?”

“you still in love with me or something?”

she feels her throat dry as she looks at you pat down your apron. “w-what?” she stutters, shaking her head. “no, why would i be…” her tone isn’t convincing, and neither is she when she adds, “it’s just… what’s with the change of heart?”

“she’s really charming,” the thought of danielle begging you to mention that makes you blush. “i like her a lot.”

sarah fights back a frown, instead, her lips twitch into a forced smile as she walks past you to tend to a customer.

–

danielle picks you up from work just to tighten the knot, and sarah also witnesses all of it.

both you and your coworker get off at closing, and after locking the doors, you run into danielle.

she’s standing outside in a baby tee and jeans, a cap perched jauntily on her head. the moment she sees you, her face lights up into a pretty smile, and you instinctively return it. she rushes over, wrapping her arms around you in a warm hug. as she pulls back, she scans you with a playful yet affectionate gaze, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

“sweetheart! i missed you.”

“i missed you too dani– baby…” you mutter the last part shyly, making danielle giggle. “you came? it’s late.”

“i wanted to pick you up, can your girlfriend not do that?”

it still sends a shiver down your spine – hearing danielle call you that. you rub the back of your neck and look away nervously, then respond, “of course not, i’m just surprised.”

sarah looks at the two of you, scoffing under her breath. danielle hears it, turning to look at her and grin, raising her brows along with it before meeting you again. she places a hand on your shoulder, then mumbles, “well, hanni called us over, i wanted to scoop you.”

“ohhh,” it makes sense now, she wouldn’t willingly pick you up just because of the whole ‘fake dating’ thing, there had to be a motive. “alright. i can drive? if you’d like, you know. you must be tired from work too.”

“aw, you’d do that?”

“i um,” you cough, avoiding her eyes again because she’s making you feel all flustered without doing much. “yeah, it’s nothing… baby…”

she grabs your hand, fingers intertwining before dragging you along to her small suv, then handing you her keys.

your coworker groans now that you two are further, narrowing her eyes at danielle when she turns back not so subtly to make sure sarah is looking. any normal person would back off, getting the hint that the person they want is unavailable, but sarah sees it as a challenge, somehow.

there’s nothing she can’t achieve when she puts her mind to it, that’s her mindset.

you’re oblivious to how insane she is, too clouded with how touchy and giggly danielle is after the whole interaction when teh two of you get in the car.

–

danielle sits besides you on hanni’s couch, leaning against you a bit. “yeah, she gave me a glare, it was kind of funny.”

“pftt– i guess it’s working then?” hanni asks, walking over to hand you two juice from her fridge. danielle takes it happily and it makes you smile a little.

“i hope so.” you sip on your peach juice. “but she’s like, clinically insane.”

“is she?” danielle questions, tilting her head as her hand finds its way to your bicep. you blush.

“dude, she was crazy.” hanni rubs her temple. “like, oh my god, she was going insane for a good while because y/n didn’t want her like that. i saw their messages and–”

“okay i’ll tell the story thank you.” you scoff. “she’s really competitive, and i guess new to romance? considering how she reacted i don’t know, she’s very…”

“sensitive?” danielle asks – you shake your head.

“i mean no, but kind of. she would get jealous over me really easily and was kind of codependent, like everything i do affects her or something. i’d just go on my day, but she’d always be so reliant on me and text me so often and i just… it’s so much.”

“ah, i see. how long has it been since you rejected her?”

“a few months. i thought she stopped liking me since it’s been so long, but lately there’s been tension and she’s looking at me how she used to…” hanni listens closely as she watches you rub your forehead, looking a little distraught. “i just, oh my god she has terrible attachment issues it’s concerning. the only thing i could think of was pretending to date someone.”

danielle nods in understanding.

“yeah, one time i went to see y/n at work and she looked so like… hostile. that’s not normal, we’re visibly friends.” hanni adds.

you know the exact afternoon that it happened, what hanni mentioned that is.

she had pulled up to drop something off, and you teasingly flirted with her, hugging her as thanks. afterward, you rang up one of her orders and played with her fingers, a little habit you had developed to annoy her. despite the evident look of disgust and annoyance on hanni’s face, your coworker—who allegedly liked you a bit too much—looked like hanni had just slapped you in the face or spat at you.

long story short, hanni glanced over to see the coworker glaring at her menacingly. in response, hanni poked at you once more before hurrying out with a latte in her hand, confused and slightly terrified.

“yeah she’s… got a bitch face.”

“it’s not normal to glare at people that simply interact with your coworker…” danielle mumbles. “i’m sorry to hear that.”

you wave your hand, giggling lightly. “it’s nothing, really. i mean, i just don’t want her to be so obsessed and stuck on me, i think us pretending to date should tame the fire.”

pretending.

the word makes both you and danielle tense up.

–

you clock in again, greeting sarah.

she smiles brightly at you, waving and you have to make a little gesture to remind her there’s a customer in line. sarah turns away bashfully, then takes the man’s order with a hint of attitude. you’re not very fond of that.

he orders an americano, so you immediately get to work, weighing out grinds of espresso, tamping it down, and pulling two shots. as you do so, sarah pulls up next to you and nudges your shoulder.

“hey,”

“hi.” you respond, not looking up from the cup in your hand. “did you need something?”

“that t-shirt looks good on you, have you been working out?”

you feel uneasy the moment she says it, swallowing a lump in your throat. you pour the two shots over the hot water and force a response, “thanks, and um, no.” before calling out the order.

sarah continues to watch you closely as you throw away the used espresso, then says, “your girlfriend didn’t drop you?”

“she’s working.”

“right. i’d find a way to drop off my girlfriend anytime that i could.”

“good for you?” you look her in the eye again, clenching your jaw.

“you don’t post her much on your socials either, are you guys really a thing?”

fuck.

you scoff, “what kind of question is that? of course… i just… don’t post much. we’re still kind of new to this.”

“right, she’s not even your lockscreen.”

“i’m going to grab some beans from the back,” you interrupt, redirecting the conversation away from the topic of your alleged girlfriend. sarah narrows her eyes at you as you turn away from her, stepping away and disappearing towards the storage area.

once you’re alone, you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling the weight of the strange interrogation settle on you. there was an unmistakable hostility in sarah’s tone, a sharp edge that cut through the air. hanni’s right, she always is. the mere thought of enduring six more hours with sarah makes you want to crawl into a hole. her jealousy is palpable, and it eats away at you, gnawing at your nerves.

you pull out your phone and quickly dial danielle, pacing back and forth as you wait for her to pick up.

“hello?” she responds less than ten seconds later. “what’s up?”

“she’s catching on, kind of. i think she’s jealous.”

“sarah?”

“yes.” you groan, then lean your back against the wall. “i can’t work like this.”

“i’ll come over? do you need me to?”

“no, but can we meet after? i think we need to be more public, if that’s okay.”

you hear her confusion through the phone. “what? public?”

“like, soft launch or something. i just need to make it obvious that i’m quote on quote dating someone – you. and we need a lockscreen together.”

a giggle is heard on the other end of the line, “oh wow.” danielle mumbles teasingly, “this is pretty serious.”

“i hope i die.”

“aw, don’t say that babe. just come over to the library after, okay? good luck on your shift! i have to clock in soon too.”

“can we meet at my place?”

“anything is fine, that’s alright.”

“i literally owe you my first born, dani.”

“it’s nothing, this is quite entertaining.” she says, and you smile with the phone at your ear. “call me later, okay? send me updates.”

“right, yeah.” you almost whisper, “thank you.”

“it’s nothing, sweetheart.” her laugh is infused into the sentence, making your chest burn.

–

“this is so dumb.”

you are so dumb. this isn’t helping your case.

hanni and minji are fighting back laughter while you try to naturally rest your hand on danielles knuckles. you’re stiff and it looks anything but natural.

the angle you take the picture at makes it look awkward, and the picture’s quality sucks too.

“just relax.” danielle says, then holds your hand instead. “here, let me take the picture.”

you’re trying to keep your cool while minji and hanni watch and danielle, the prettiest girl you know, holds your hand and scoots closer to you in order to ‘soft launch’ your fraud of a relationship. her hand is nice in yours, her skin is soft, and she’s so close you can smell the vanilla fragrance she uses.

danielle snaps a quick picture, then the rest of the bunch – including you – scoot over to look at the picture.

“well would you look at that! it’s perfect.” danielle beams, grinning at her work. “post that one.”

“holy shit.” minji says in awe. “no yeah, you could fool me with that.”

“anyone could fool you, dumbass.” you snicker, looking up at her and smirking.

“i hate you.”

“oh, i guess you don’t want free food from my work…?”

minji groans, making you laugh.

danielle’s hand is still in yours, you don’t fully register it until you realize you need both hands to post a picture on your instagram story. she seems a bit disappointed when you let go, though you barely notice – and even if you did, you might just chalk it up to your imagination.

it's fun, no doubt about it. yet, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to take pictures of you and danielle that aren’t staged or orchestrated. you long for authenticity, capturing moments that are mundane and candid.

the thought lingers in your mind the whole time, even as you pose with your back to the camera, pretending to cook alongside danielle. it's all set up and artificial, every movement planned out, yet danielle starts giggling and leaning into you – a spontaneous gesture not part of your last-minute brainstorming.

her laughter is genuine, her touch warm, and it makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, not everything is as fake as it seems.

–

you wake up from your nap and groan as your ringtone renders you awake. blindly, you slap your hand in every direction on the bed until you feel it under your other pillow. someone’s calling you, that’s all you can make out since there’s a red and green circle.

tiredly, you mumble, “hello?”

“hi! are you busy?” it’s danielle’s voice responding, shaking you awake.

“oh, um, no.” you say as you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes and running a hand through your hair. “are you okay? did something happen?”

“i’m fine! i was just wondering if you were free. you sound tired, were you sleeping?”

“i just took a power nap that’s all. what was it that you need?”

“oh, sorry to wake you.”

“it’s fine, seriously.”

“well,” she starts, “i was just wondering if you wanted to go out together?”

“oh, me?”

you hear her giggle through the phone and smile softly. “i mean, i am calling y/n, aren’t i?”

“yeah, you are.”

“and i’m asking you, my girlfriend, to hangout. it’s like a date!”

“we’re not actually dating danielle, you don’t have to pretend when we’re calling and alone.” you say quietly, pursing your lips.

it’s not that you hate it, danielle being all lovely and playing the role of your girlfriend too well. the thing is, it feels like you’re getting led on, and the way she is just gives you false hope to something real.

danielle feels a little ache in her heart when you respond like that, but she pushes it away for the time being.

“i don’t mind it, it’s fun!” she beams. “anyway, there’s free ice cream downtown for couples, do you want to grab some?”

“is there? yeah, i’m down. do you want to take the metro?”

“that’s perfect, there’s probably so much traffic.”

“alright, i can scoop you and take us to the station in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“perfect.” she closes the conversation, and the call ends.

you flop down on the bed again, just for a moment. your eyes are fixated on the ceiling above as you breathe in, thinking about everything.

you and danielle aren’t dating, not for real. it’s just a show, a sham. she simply wants to hang out for free ice cream, nothing more. you know this. you set yourself up for this whole fake dating thing—well, kind of, considering hanni was the culprit behind this whole arrangement.

it’s already been over a month, and danielle doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, treating the whole thing as no big deal. you must be insane; you can’t keep doing this knowing your feelings are growing and she most definitely doesn’t feel anything real. it’s just to benefit you, and she’s a great friend who’s willing to help you out. yet, each time you pretend, it gets harder to separate your act from reality.

despite the turmoil, you’re up and finding a change of clothes in order to make danielle happy. because even if she’s not your girlfriend, she’s your friend and you love her regardless.

(sometimes the love you have claws you from the inside.)

–

danielle clings to your arm the whole way down to the city. sometimes she clings a little tighter than usual, then goes silent, and it makes you breathe deeply.

it takes a few wrong turns and teasing to get to the icecream place, there’s already a long line with actual couples. you feel out of place in a way; there’s partners holding the other by the waist from behind, setting their heads on top of the others. a few are just holding hands or lingering close and you can just sense all the love and adoration in the air.

you swallow shallowly, tensing your jaw because danielle is close to you, but not because you two are something more than friends.

“wow, so many lovebirds.” she says in awe, gazing around.

“uh huh.” you feel her hand slide down your forearm, then her fingers intertwine with yours as she looks up at you. “hm?”

“to seal the deal.” she shrugs, smiling. “plus, your hands are big… and warm.”

“you have small hands.”

“perfect fit for yours.” she giggles playfully, making you do the same. “what flavors did you want? it’s two scoops for free.”

“you can pick both, i don’t mind.”

“what? c’mon, you should pick one.”

“no, you wanted ice cream. i’m just here to make you happy.” you admit, tightening your grip on her hand.

she starts to respond, but stops for a few seconds. you watch her look away bashfully, staring at the ground and grinning to herself. she shakes her head, then says, “you’re so lovely…”

“pfttt, i just want you to be happy, seriously.”

“you know,” she begins, looking at you again. “whoever manages to become your girlfriend would be real lucky.”

“oh.” your lips twitch into less of a smile and you pause for a moment. “maybe.”

“this fake dating thing is making me realize that you’re such girlfriend material.”

a small laugh stifles the tension and awkwardness in you, “thanks? you are too.”

“am i?”

“yeah.” you stare into her eyes, shes everything you could wish for in a person. “very.”

before danielle can respond, the line moves, and it’s time for the two of you to decide on two flavors. it takes a while to do so, with you declining the offer to chime in and pick a flavor you want, danielle was the one to invite you out anyway. but she looks at you with puppy eyes, pouts, then puts a hand on the side of your bicep and it makes you cave in.

the final choices are salted caramel and coffee.

danielle holds the cup in one hand, drags you away from the area littered with lovey dovey couples – some being too lovey, considering they can’t seem to get away from each other – and leads you blindly towards a small alley in a neighborhood until a bench comes into view. she pulls you towards it eagerly, making you laugh until you’re both sitting next to each other.

you frown a little as you look at the ice cream in the cup. “some of it is melted.”

“not all of it!” danielle beams, then scroops a spoonful of the coffee side – the flavor you ended up choosing. “you have the first taste.” she says, bringing it closer to your mouth.

“wait, you should have it.”

“too late,” she starts to move it in a circular motion, saying, “ahhh~” as she does so.

you scoff, then lean forward and all of it is in your mouth in one bite. danielle watches your eyes light up.

“it’s good.” you mutter, then grab the other spoon to scoop the other flavor. you mirror what danielle did before, making her laugh just as much. “open wiiiiide~”

“ahhh~”

you snicker before moving the spoon into her mouth, she closes it and smiles immediately, melting in place despite the ice cream being pretty cold.

the street lights make her look precious, highlighting the satisfaction on her face because of some simple ice cream she’d gotten for free. you want to see her this happy everyday and as much as you can.

a small hint of ice cream is on the corner of her lips, it urges you to bring your hand over and wipe it off with your thumb. danielle stops savoring the dessert, instead, focusing on you.

“sorry, there was… yeah.”

“mhm.” danielle says, staring at your lips. “it’s really good.”

“i can tell.” you turn away, feeling flustered when she looks at you like that. “let me try your flavor.”

the two of you continue to eat ice cream together, subconsciously scooting closer and closer as you share it. danielle’s head ends up on your shoulder when the cup is empty in your hand, silent in her place.

you don’t budge, mainly because she seems comfortable and you don’t mind ruining your posture a bit if it’s for her. she sighs contentedly, moving her hand over to hold yours in the midst of the moment, slotting together effortlessly. she doesn’t say anything, but you feel her lean into you a little more.

“you okay?”

“just happy.”

“ah,” you rub your thumb against her skin. “that’s good.”

“being with you makes me really happy.”

“being with you makes me happier.” you say softly, staring at your hands aligned seamlessly. “do you want to stay here for a bit longer?”

“please.”

“it’s getting late.”

“i know, just a bit longer.” danielle says.

just a bit longer. if only the whole arrangement could last forever, if only you two could be this close and warm for lightyears.

minutes pass, and neither of you move, lost in the comforting silence. the only shift comes when you turn your head to press a gentle kiss into her hair. danielle feels perfectly in place, her heart fluttering at the tender gesture. a soft smile spreads across her face, a silent acknowledgment of the moment's sweetness.

–

the night prior had to be a dream, it was too perfect. it was the realest you’ve felt with danielle, the closest to something romantic. it was even enough to consider that she felt the same, and you’d love to revel in that possibility, but you have to restock the beans and cups quickly before tending to the drinks.

there’s only thirty more minutes until your shift ends, it feels like eternity.

sarah catches you smiling to yourself throughout the shift, biting the inside of her lip. she’s filled with all too much: anger, jealously, dissapointment, and really just everything that makes her uneasy.

she still can’t believe it, you had gone on a whole tangent telling her you couldn’t be in a relationship and now you’re being a complete loser in front of her. she hates it, she wants it to be her that makes you smile randomly throughout the day.

what pisses her off more, and truly makes her lose all hope, is when you go from looking tired and drained to bubbly and smiley as soon as a familiar figure starts walking toward the counter.

she watches you check the time on the register, your smile widening because you can clock out and be with danielle, who’s waiting just across the counter. the change in your demeanor is undeniable, and it stings sarah to see the joy that danielle effortlessly brings out in you.

you walk over to danielle, reaching for her hand. “hey.”

“hi.” the way danielle says it makes your chest warm and sarah nearly gags in return.

what makes sarah's shoulders sink, her heart drop, and her frown deepen is when danielle suddenly kisses your cheek.

the shock is evident on your face as you stand frozen, your hand instinctively moving to hover over the spot where danielle's lips had just been. the tenderness of the moment is overwhelming, and sarah can't help but feel a profound sense of loss. the realization that your heart belongs entirely to danielle crushes any lingering hopes she had, leaving her to face the painful truth.

“w-what was that for?” you look over and make eye contact with sarah, who’s grimacing. “there’s um, you know… bystanders.”

“i missed you, so much. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.” danielle says simply, not bothering that sarah is the only one who’s witnessing this, and from a few feet away too. “do you want to get dinner?”

“it’s three in the afternoon silly.”

“well, anything is fine. we should study before we eat! i heard the module mr. lee assigned us was really helpful for…”

the rest of what danielle says doesn’t register in your coworker’s mind. she studies you closely, her frown deepening with each passing second. it’s painfully clear to her now—you’re genuinely in love with danielle, and there's nothing she can do to change that. the way you look at danielle, like a child seeing a rainbow for the first time, leaves no room for doubt.

it dawns on her that giving up is the only option, and she feels a pang of resignation settling in her chest.

–

nearly three months have passed and both of you have still been ‘pretending.’

neither of you acknowledge that it’s fake, not during the weekly dates, study sessions, and late night walks or movie nights that end up in the two of you falling asleep together. danielle doesn’t think twice when kissing your cheek here and there, even your knuckles when she thinks you’re asleep.

you figure that maybe it’s okay to kiss her cheek too sometimes because she’s her lips turn each time. and when you pick her up for weekly dates, she happily jumps into the passengers seat of your car as if it weren’t just a mutual agreement. sarah has already given up, considering she seems defeated, and you wonder if you should too.

you can’t tell if it’s just how danielle is, which eats you inside. everything feels all too real, and your feelings only grow more unbearable.

–

you shouldn’t have let jimin drag you out to minjeong’s party. she’s already left the moment you stepped into the house, she’s probably gotten a hold of a drink already.

jimin had noticed how deeply stressed you've been lately. your responses were slower, your shoulders seemed permanently slumped, and the stress was practically etched into your face. being one of your closest friends, jimin decided that it was time for a change. she was determined to get you out and help you relax, knowing how crucial it was for your well-being (and social life, to be completely real).

walking around, you scan the crowd for a familiar face. unfortunately, the only people you recognize are sunghoon and jake, who have a history of hitting on you despite your clear disinterest. they still haven't grasped that you're a lesbian. you quickly decide to steer clear of them.

the only reason you’re here is because you’ve been throwing yourself into your studies, staying late at the gym, and doing too much to avoid danielle – or even the thought of her.

(which is unfortunately impossible since every little thing reminds you of her.

the flowers on the counter at your work remind you of her smile, the couch in your apartment is where you two have spent hours together, and really, you’re hopeless.)

you find jimin outside on the porch with her other friends that you’ve only talked to once or twice. they’re all talking about something, clearly tipsy, and you’re walking over to linger near your friend.

“y/n! oh my gosh girl, where have you been? come here, have a drink!” jimin grabs your arm, pulling you in and hugging you like she hasn’t seen you in forever. “here, take a shot.”

she hands you a shot of what you assume is some cheap vodka, you didn’t even have time to pregame for this. you’re not against drinking, not at all, if anything you’re all for it. there’s videos of you in groupchats shotgunning beer and finishing with barely any reaction – but tonight, you don’t know if you’re in the mood for it.

one won’t hurt, maybe it’ll erase danielle from your mind for a moment.

“fine.” you grab the small glass, then bring it to your lips and cock your head back, eyes pinching for a brief moment as you swallow. “shit,” you mumble, “give me another.”

you don’t know what has taken over, because you’re downing two more without hesitation. jimin laughs and smiles proudly at you.

for a brief moment, everything feels fine. the music blasting from inside the house, a mix of charli xcx and the chatter of your friends mocking one of your professors and jake, makes you laugh out loud. amidst the chaos, you find a beer in your hand, and somehow, you manage to tolerate the taste. wonyoung appears too, and hands you another after you quickly finish the first. you accept it, even though you're already starting to feel a bit fuzzy.

jimin looks at minjeong with a sparkle in her eyes, and you subtly push her a little closer until their shoulders touch. they exchange smiles, and you watch, feeling proud of your matchmaking.

your heart sinks as it suddenly reminds you all too much of danielle. the fondness and spark between jimin and minjeong make you frown, your grip on the beer tightening as the bittersweet memories flood back.

“fuck,” you practically whisper. “i need to, i’m going to get more um, drinks.”

“hm? okay.” jimin says quickly, then turns back to the girl she’s linking arms with.

your head pounds, so you gulp down the can of beer in your hand, then crumple it and toss it toward a trash bin in your line of sight.

as you make your way to the kitchen, you spot a bottle of vodka and pour yourself a shot into a plastic cup you found. the liquid burns your throat, intensifying the ache in your head. despite this, you pour another shot, perhaps a bit too generously, hoping to numb the growing pain and the emotions clawing at your heart.

the room feels like it’s spinning, you’re walking down some hall and blinking and blinking until you reach a bathroom. thankfully, no one is making out in it, but you check the shower for safety measures.

you’re finally alone, groaning as you fall against the wall of the bathroom and slide down until you’re sitting on the bathroom floor.

clumsily, you grab your phone from your back pocket. the screen lights up to a picture of you and danielle, cheeks squished together and smiling.

you stare at it for too long, your breath hitching and your vision blurring as the ache in your head intensifies. the happy memory contrasts sharply with the heaviness you feel now, making it all the more difficult to look away. she just looks so cute in it.

you tap your screen again, and another picture of her appears. it’s a picture of her asleep in the passengers seat, head tilted uncomfortably and lips parted slightly. you had set up your lock screen to cycle through images of danielle, initially to fool sarah, but also because seeing danielle’s face as soon as you pick up your phone makes you feel at ease. each photo captures her different expressions—laughing, pouting, lost in thought—and they all make you grin.

the happiness you feel is bittersweet, knowing it’s all part of an arrangement that feels increasingly real to you.

your vision is a little unclear, but somehow it sharpens just so you can see her perfectly.

“fuck,” you gasp out, unlocking your phone and trying to navigate to your recent calls. you had called hanni earlier and she had just been lounging at her place. you figure that she’d be able to take you away from here.

you squint, pressing on the contact that has a and n, assuming it’s hanni, then wait as the phone rings.

“hello?”

“hanni, i’m… can you pick me up?”

“y/n?” her voice is muffled when it reaches your ears, “are you okay? what happened, where are you?”

“jimin… dragged me out. i drank… soooo much.”

“y/n, oh my gosh.”

“hanni, stay on the line, please.”

“i’m not–” the voice cuts off, you drop your phone on the carpet. “hello?”

“you have my location… right.” you slur, head leaning against the wall even more. “hanni i can’t do it anymore.”

“y/n, i’m on my way. are you alright?”

“hanni, i can’t.” you groan, staring up into space. “i don’t want to fake date danielle anymore. it feels too real, i hate it.”

silence follows before you hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

“you can’t? why, why didn’t you tell her?”

“she seems happy, and… we just, don’t acknowledge that it’s not real.”

“y/n…”

danielle sits in her car, heart sinking.

you dialed her on accident, and it doesn't seem like you know it’s her.

“please come. please.”

danielle gulps, feeling tears forming in her eyes.

–

danielle scavenges through the house your location on her phone has brought you to, looking around for you helplessly.

she makes her way to the porch and spots jimin, who’s hands are on minjeongs neck as she holds her in place. danielle walks over, not wanting to disturb the intimacy, but you’re her biggest priority, so she’s willing to do so.

“jimin,”

she turns around, looking at danielle confusingly. “oh, when did you get here?”

“where’s y/n?”

“hmmm… she went to get drinks a while ago, she hasn’t come back yet. try the kitchen?”

“okay, thank you.” danielle says hurriedly, then rushes back inside.

she checks the kitchen, only to see jake and sunghoon with beers in their hands as they cackle loudly. you’re nowhere in sight, making her bite her lip in frustration.

danielle goes through every room on the first floor until she reaches a bathroom. she pushes the door open, and it suddenly stops, hitting someone. a groan escapes from behind the door.

"i'm so sorry!" danielle rushes out, peeking around the door to see who she’s just collided with. "y/n?" she gasps, eyes widening in recognition and concern.

you’re sitting against the wall, hair tousled and cheeks red. there’s a white tank top hugging you, the thin straps of it loose against your skin from your posture.

“hanni?” you look up, squinting. “i wanna go home.”

you see the figure move closer to you and close the door, then she squats down and you realize it’s not hanni. danielle comes into view, her eyebrows creased with concern. your cheeks flush even harder, and your lips part.

she puts a hand on your forehead, then cups her cheeks with both. “are you okay?”

“you’re not… hanni.”

danielle’s shoulders fall down a bit. “hanni um,” danielle hates lying, but she’s doing it now to save you from spiraling. “she sent me over.”

“oh.” the response from you cracks her heart slightly. “okay.”

"let's go," she says firmly, helping you up. despite being taller and more muscular than her, you lean on her for support. danielle manages to steady you with surprising ease, guiding you out of the bathroom and through the house, her grip strong and unwavering.

–

you collapse onto danielle’s couch and groan, your body is limp against the cushions.

a few moments later, she comes back with a cup of water, placing it on the coffee table before she sits you up. she tilts your chin up and you look at her with wonder as she grabs the cup and holds it to your lips, “drink.”

“mhm.” you mumble, sipping slowly and swallowing.

your vision clears slightly, though it might just be danielle who’s grounding you. her concerned eyes meet yours, and while guilt tugs at you, you're also captivated by her beauty in this moment. you're drunk and out of your mind, thoughts muddled and unfocused.

“pretty.” you sigh dreamily.

“y/n,” her voice is laced with uneasiness. “drink more water.”

“okay.”

“and stay the night, okay? you um, left…” she swallows hard, fighting back a frown. “you left your clothes here, i’ll go grab them.”

“can you stay with me though? will you? i really… just… i want you here.”

danielle bites the inside of her lip, her eyes wide with confusion. just moments ago, you had admitted that you wanted to stop the whole ‘relationship’—that it had become too intense, too overwhelming. and now, you’re asking her to stay? her mind spins with the jarring shift in emotions.

you lean in, clinging onto her. danielle feels the warmth of your breath and the softness of your nose brushing against her neck. the touch sends a shiver through her, and she swallows hard, struggling to steady her breathing. as you pull back, your faces are mere inches apart. you lock eyes with her, your gaze heavy with so much.

there’s a lump in her throat. “okay.”

–

danielle wakes up with you on top of her and your head in the crook of her neck. she hears you breathing softly and subconsciously, her hand slides into your hair.

why are you so confusing? danielle wonders, twirling your hair with her pointer finger. is this what you really want?

you’re incredibly considerate, a trait that’s always shone brightly. the way you go out of your way for her—planning dates, cherishing every moment together, simply because it makes her happy—fills her with a bittersweet feeling. she adores these shared moments, savoring the illusion of authenticity. but now that it’s clear that all of it strains you, it weighs heavily on her heart.

you stir awake, your breath warm and rhythmic against danielle's skin. as you hum softly, her cheeks flush a delicate pink. she feels the gentle pressure of your arms tightening around her, pulling her closer. you shift, nestling deeper into her, finding a more comfortable position. each movement sends a shiver through danielle, leaving her heart fluttering like crazy at eight in the morning.

she doesn’t know what to do.

–

danielle doesn’t ask you out or come over the whole week, excusing herself by saying she’s busy or caught up with things. of course, you don’t comment on it – she’s not really your girlfriend, you shouldn’t expect her time and affection.

but then another week passes by and you don’t get any texts back, sometimes she even leaves you on delivered for hours. that’s not like her at all.

you catch her in class and she’s still the same danielle you know – bubbly, pretty, and sweet – but that’s really the only time you see her these days.

it’s confusing, all too confusing, so you barge into hanni’s apartment on a thursday evening because she’s the only one you can rant to about this.

“you didn’t even text me–”

“oh my god i think danielle fucking hates me.”

hanni lets you storm in, walking towards her room and flop onto her own bed. you look devasted, especially when you rub your face in your hands and groan loudly.

“okay, first of all: why the hell would she? second of all: yeah, why… why would she…?”

“she’s been avoiding me and i have no fucking clue why.”

“dude what.”

you recount the entire story to hanni, animatedly illustrating every detail with exaggerated hand gestures. “so, jimin practically dragged me out to unwind, and i ended up drunk out of my mind!” you say. your hands wave dramatically, punctuating the story as you describe stumbling around, the room spinning, and how the whole ordeal felt like a whirlwind.

hanni watches, her amusement growing as you explain the night’s events. “jesus.”

“yeah, and then danielle came and picked me up.”

“she did?”

“yeah… you called her over… didn’t you?”

“dude, what are you talking about.”

you pause, looking at her with confusion evident all over your face. then grab your phone, heart feeling strained when you see danielle posing with a stuffed animal that one time – out of many – you two went to the mall together. you click on the phone app, looking at your recent calls and scrolling down to roughly two weeks ago.

you see hanni’s contact name, and then danielles after.

“hanni, did i… did i call you that night? two weeks ago, the friday night i went out.”

“dude you only called me that morning or something, you left something here.”

“oh my fucking god.” you gasp, putting a hand over your mouth. “oh my god.”

“y/n what.”

“i drunk dialed dani and i thought it was you. she told me you sent her to grab me…”

“what did you say to her?” hanni asks, looking at you with slight worry.

you groan, rubbing your face again. “i… i said i didn’t want to fake date her anymore.”

“oh, well that’s not too bad.”

“no, i remember it somehow. i said i hated it.”

your best friend looks at you, confused again. “you do?”

“yeah, but like, no?” you groan once more and fall onto the bed again. “hanni, i’ve… i’ve liked danielle since first semester.”

“oh.”

“yeah, oh.”

“you’ve been fake dating and simultaneously in love with her?”

you sigh. “yes.”

“holy shit.”

“yeah. i think she took it the wrong way, maybe she thinks i hate her?”

“you need to talk to her.”

“she doesn’t want to see me.”

“no, she’s so fond of you. i honestly think she likes you back.”

“okay it’s not the time for that–”

“shut the hell up bro.” hanni pinches your cheek and you slap her hand away. she begins again, “dude, she rambles about you and shit. there were times i actually thought you guys were really dating.”

“i wish.”

“then make it come true!” hanni groans. she pulls you up, then puts both hands on your shoulder. “you need to go talk to her, stop being a pussy.”

“it’s not that–”

your phone vibrates in your hand, snapping you out of your animated retelling. instinctively, you glance down and see a notification from danielle. hanni notices the shift in your expression, quirking an eyebrow as you stare at the screen, looking visibly distressed. she leans closer, peeking at the notification.

as your face unlocks the phone, the text is revealed: "can you come over? we should talk." your mouth drops open slightly in shock, and hanni mirrors your expression. the room suddenly feels heavy.

“dude.” hanni points at the screen – the obvious. “she–”

“fuck me.” you mutter, “fuck me.”

“dumbass,” hanni says, pushing you off her bed. you curse and look at her with “what the fuck?” written all over your face. hanni stands up and continues to push you out her room, saying, “go see your ‘girlfriend,’ even if it’s not real you better go talk to mo dani.”

you sigh, pushing her off you and grabbing your things before you walk towards hanni’s apartment door. you stare at the handle, then the text, and linger for a moment. hanni puts a hand on your shoulder and you look at her.

“i’m fucking terrified.”

“well you’ll feel even worse if you don’t go, so go.” hanni urges, opening the door and nudging you out.

–

the air is cold, it’s really just cold outside and it makes you shiver more than you already are just from the thought of the interaction.

you’re outside danielle’s work, sitting on the steps because you can’t bring yourself to go in and approach her directly. maybe it makes you a coward, but you’ve always been nervous about seeing her willingly and making the first move. the minutes stretch on, each one making you more anxious, but you can't help it. the thought of facing her, of initiating that crucial conversation, ties your stomach in knots. she called you out here anyway.

wind hits your cheeks and you bite your lip, walking around in your place in an attempt to warm up. then, you catch someone in the corner of your eye, so you turn around and meet danielle.

a loose sweater drapes over her frame, and wide-fit linen pants hide the shape of her legs. the wind tousles her hair just as it does yours, but she looks effortlessly angelic, stopping your heart for a moment. her hair, caught in the breeze, frames her face in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal, temporarily making you forget your worries.

then she’s walking toward you, and you remember why you’re here.

you swallow hard, body tensing.

“thank’s for coming, i’m sorry i haven’t been.. um, able to spend time with you.” she looks nervous, her eyes avoiding yours and hands fiddling with each other. she stares at your necklace instead as she continues, “i’ve just… i wanted to talk to you about what we have.”

“right, i wanted to talk to you about it too.”

“oh,” danielle says quietly. “i’m sorry, i didn’t want to be a burden. you called me instead of hanni the night you got drunk and i know how you feel about fake dating. i’m sorry that you had to do it with me and it caused you so much stress i just–”

your heart aches as you listen to her ramble, guilt evident in her voice for something that’s not her fault. you can't bear to hear her blame herself. your brows furrow with pity as you gently cut her off, “danielle, no, let me–”

“stop, i want to make myself clear. i want to explain a lot of things to you, you’re so lovely and sweet and you don’t deserve to be so stressed. it’s just, okay, wait.”

she pauses, breathing in, and looking at you with tears lining her eyes. your breath shakes looking at her like that, you can’t breathe or speak in the moment.

danielle purses her lips before continuing, “okay, when hanni first said you wanted to date me, i got so excited because well, i always thought you were cute.” she turns her head to the side and bites her lip before looking back at you. “and then you said it wasn’t an actual date, you wanted it to be fake. i don’t know i just, i felt really sad when it happened but at the same time the thought of fake dating you didn’t seem too bad because i’m selfish and i mean, i liked you a little and i thought i could just fake it and revel in the artificial aspect until i got over it but i ended up falling for you so much and i’m sorry. i don’t want you to think im anything like sarah–”

“danielle, stop.”

“no, y/n i just want to explain myself–”

“danielle, shut up, oh my god.” you gasp, looking at her in disbelief. “you, are you fucking with me?”

she looks at you, still feeling guilty. when she blinks, two tears fall down her cheeks and she inhales sharply as she conceals a sob. she turns away, then murmurs, “no, i’m so sorry.”

“n-no, no. dani, danielle.” you almost breathe it out, then bring both hands to hold her face. your hands cup her cheeks making her face you. “please stop crying, i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry.”

“b-baby?” she says, confusing taking over her features. you had gotten so used to calling her endearing pet names that it slipped out so suddenly in the heat of the moment.

the lights outside shine just enough for you to see her clearly. her eyes are watery, tears staining her cheeks, and you use your thumb to gently wipe them away. her nose is a little pink, and so are her cheeks. of course, she’s a pretty crier too, but you look at her with guilt, shaking your head as you continue to stroke her cheeks with your thumb. the sight of her like this breaks your heart even more.

“i only said i hated it because it was all too real, but not in a bad way. not at all.”

“really?” she says between sniffles. “w-what do you mean?”

“i’m saying that,” you use your thumb to rub a tear threatening to fall from the corner of her eye. “i hated it because i couldn’t take the fact that it wasn’t real. i wanted it to be real. danielle, i’ve wanted to be yours since you first gave me the notes from the first lecture we had together.”

“what?”

“danielle,” you almost whisper, then kiss her forehead. “i like you so much. i don’t hate you, or this – i hate that it’s not real.”

her mouth opens in shock as she looks at you, sniffling. you anxiously wait for a response, hoping she'll say something, but she doesn’t. instead, she hugs you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. you return the embrace, holding her just as tight. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in the nerveracking moment.

“i like you too – a lot. i was so scared when you said you hated it, i thought i was making you uncomfortable and gosh i just felt so bad and–”

you rub her back with your hand and cut her off, “i was anything but uncomfortable, i felt like i was living in a fantasy.”

“thank god.” danielle sighs in relief.

you pull away, looking at her again and wiping remnants of tears with your thumb again. “i’m sorry for making you cry.”

if you could go back and punch yourself for being stupid — you’d do it in a heartbeat. a dumb slip up and miscommunication from your lips is the reason danielle’s nose is still tinted pink from crying, you feel guilty as ever.

in your hands, it feels like you hold the world. she shakes her head in your hold, then smiles from relief.

“it’s okay.”

“are you busy after this?”

danielle giggles, shaking her head again. “if you’re asking me out on a date – a real one – then absolutely not.”

“dinner? it’s on me for being stupid that night, and this whole time.”

“perfect.”

you smile sweetly at her, your gaze lingering on her lips. before you know it, you lean in and boldly peck her right then and there. she gasps when you pull away, looking at you with widened eyes as you back off. but then, she reels you in again, leaning closer and kissing you once more. the kiss is soft and warm, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you. you feel her smile against your lips, and everything else fades away.

when you part again, you look at her fondly and ask, “wait, this is real, right? like, we’re…”

danielle laughs, hastily pecking you once more and lingering close.

“i don’t think it’s the alcohol that made you so dense and stupid.”

#kpop x reader #danielle marsh x reader #danielle x reader #danielle marsh #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #mo jihye #mo jihye x reader #newjeans fluff #newjeans danielle #newjeans imagines

813 notes · View notes

httpsserene · 7 months ago

Note

Speaking of Mr. Daniel, we all know that he injured himself a while ago. How about the reader faking an orgasm because she doesn’t want to tire or injure him? Daniel frowns immediately upon noticing, but the nurse kicks you out because it’s past hours, and he's longing for the reader. He tries to grab the reader to come back but winces in pain, proving the reader's point. Your pleasure is extremely important to him so he’ll stop functioning if you said otherwise.

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬

Summary: When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader(her skintone isn't referenced but she has braids.) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. orgasm/delay denial. hurt/comfort. caretaking. servicedom!daniel. discussion of pain medication, injuries, and hospitals. dom/sub undertones. sub/shy!reader. praise kink mentioned. sensual beard shaving (it's hot). wet dreams. somnophilia. safe, sane, and consensual. oral sex (m and f receiving). vaginal sex. fake orgasm. mentioned multiple orgasms. Word Count: 3.6k words

Author's Notes: if the tags scare you, i promise it's not that bad!

secondly, thank you for the patience concerning the delay. my sister is doing a lot better now! she had an allergic reaction to pollen; she inhaled so much that her lungs freaked the fuck out on her, and i was in the hospital from 9am-9pm all day. finally got back home so i'm posting it, way late, but at least it's on the same day.

to make up for it, even though my lil sis was nearly taken out by the environment (i'm joking i love her i'm just being a big sister rn), i am releasing episode four on friday! and episode five on either tuesday or wednesday next week!

i hope you all like this episode xxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

The sound of bedsheets ruffling contrasts with the monotonous beeps of the heart monitor filling the sterile hospital room; the noise is more than enough to have you snapping your head away from your phone to look at your boyfriend. Daniel’s awake and he meets your eyes with a soft groan. You coo at him softly, squeezing his hand gently as he reorients himself.

“What time ‘st?” Daniel croaks out. You cringe at the sound of his dry speech and quickly hand him the glass of water resting at his bedside.

“It’s getting late, baby,” you hum, not failing to notice the slight wince he does when his cast knocks against the bed rail, “I sent Michael back to the hotel not too long ago, around 7. Charles, Lando, Max, and Oscar came and kept me company while you were in surgery. Oscar, I think, was pretty shaken up still—to me, I could tell he felt a little guilty that you’re here with a broken hand and he’s as right rain—so, maybe when you’re more clear-headed you can reach out to him. Yuki and Michael were here the first time you woke up. Still, you were so high on your pain medication cocktail, that I think you were hearing colors and seeing sounds,” you break from your ramble, suddenly standing and reaching over the bed to press the call button, remembering the nurse told you to alert her as soon as he woke again.

“Yes?” Daniel offers, unsure of how to respond to the edge in your tone, “I’m feeling better by the way—.”

A hysterical giggle slips from your lips, and you can see the regret wash over his face when you meet his eyes with a crazed look, “Forgive me, for not asking how you were feeling right away Daniel. It’s almost like, my brain isn’t working properly because I’m fucking worried about you. Yeah? I watched you crash into the barriers, and I heard you in pain—I called everyone on your team to get updates and nobody answered! So, I got on the next flight to Zandvoort after Michael finally texted me with updates, with no luggage, just my phone and a change of clothes—so forgive me, for not checking in on you right away, after you didn’t call me once,” you blink rapidly and Daniel softens, clearly it was a terrible time to deflect with humor, he just hates to see you worry about him, that’s why he avoided calling. He’s usually the one taking care of you.

“A-are you feeling better, though?” you ask shakily, deflating quickly at the sight of his warm brown eyes, “You’re going to set off every metal detector for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s like a 6 out 10 on the pain scale—”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the nurse interrupts in accented English, smiling at the two of you briefly before she moves to Daniel’s side and catching him up on the outcome of the surgery and discussing pain medication.

“Visiting hours ended an hour ago,” the nurse speaks to you directly, “Did nobody come to escort you out?”

You shake your head in surprise, the time on your phone reads 9 PM—you have no recollection of time passing that quickly since Michael left. Gathering your few belongings, you lean down to kiss Daniel gently, “Be good for the doctors and nurses, Danny. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“No, what—she can’t stay?” Daniel begs the nurse, and she frowns at him apologetically.

Ruffling his hair, you continue, “It’s not her fault—she’s just doing her job. And, we’re besties now,” Daniel stares at you confused, “She’s been coming to check up on me the entire time you decided to cosplay Sleeping Beauty so if you decide to be difficult overnight, she will not hesitate to snitch on you to me. Understand?”

Daniel swallows before nodding jerkily, “Can I have another kiss?”

It’s an easy ask for you to fulfill; but as your lips barely brush his, Daniel hisses out in pain. He tried to use his left hand to pull you closer to him, obviously aggravating the injury. You exclaim worriedly and he tries to pretend that the flare of pain wasn’t that severe. But, as the nurse reassures you that the pain meds will kick in and he’ll go right to sleep, you’ve already decided: that hand will never be in a situation that causes Daniel unnecessary pain again.

You tell Daniel that same sentence on the flight back to Monaco. He assumed that meant you’d force him to wear a sling or have it constantly cushioned and elevated (which you did anyway). However, he should’ve asked you to elaborate because he was completely blindsided to learn that you really meant all situations.

You may have gone overboard the first week. You’re well aware that his hand is the only broken thing on his body, but you pamper him as if he’s bedridden with the most severe flu seen in the last century. You cook and order him hearty meals, you have alarms set for when he needs to take his medication, you shower with him to make sure he doesn’t wet his cast—where nothing sexual happens, you killed the vibe the first time he insinuated shower sex in conversation, mentioning the statistics of shower-related deaths—you quickly fulfill all of his requests, even if it’s sitting through a movie you find tasteless; yet, you refuse to fulfill one: sex.

The doctor pulled you aside while Daniel was getting dressed to be discharged and told you to make sure he’s very careful with his arm, slow and controlled movements only, nothing abrupt.

And, if there’s one word to describe Daniel during sex, it would probably be abrupt.

He can’t keep his hands off of you when he’s uninjured. From your first time with Daniel, he showed and proved just how much your pleasure is important to him—he made sure that you understood that he lives and breathes to make you satisfied. But, you also know that he’d ignore his pain if it meant he was making you feel good; and, that’s not something you can risk, not with an injury that could affect his career if it doesn’t heal properly.

You’ve reiterated that to him multiple times when Daniel tries to deepen kisses, hoping you’ll forget about your stupid sex ban and let him make you feel good. He’s not used to going this long without making sure you’re sexually satisfied. You don’t even allow him to guide you through masturbation, because you know you won’t be satisfied with it even if you get off—it’ll only lead to you falling into his lap begging for more.

On the eighth day, you’re sitting in Daniel’s lap on the couch, rubbing ointment into the bruises left by the seatbelts of the car. You thought he was focused on watching the entire Dutch Grand Prix he missed out on, not thinking much of how he’s toying with the length of your braids with his uninjured hand.

You think nothing of the soft sighs, moans, and groans he’s letting out of his mouth as you lightly massage him. All of these noises are common reactions to a sensation that feels good. It sucks that they happen to sound very similar to the moans Daniel makes when he initially fucks into you. You’re just a girl with needs that Daniel never fails to take care of; you’re not used to this, for the same reason Daniel can’t understand why you won’t let him get you off.

Then, Daniel gasps out a soft ‘fuck’ that has no reason to be sounding that lustful and you start to squirm in his lap. You mindlessly continue to massage him, not exactly proud of the way you continue to strain your ears to hear his noises—and on one particular shift of your hips, you brush across his hard-on that wasn’t there a few minutes ago, and automatically fly off his lap.

In the frantic movement, Daniel tried to use both of his hands to keep you in his lap, irritating his broken hand. You flutter around him worriedly, your words a mix of chastising and displeasure. You don’t hesitate to say that this is exactly why the sex ban is in place (Daniel pleaded that it was a fluke, but you’re not eager to put that to the test).

Three days pass before Daniel deems you relaxed enough to have another attempt at seducing you into an orgasm or two. He approached you in the evening after you had watched him like a hawk as he took his pain medication. He wants you to shave his beard. It’s grown out some since he hasn’t shaved in a week or so. You’re not a professional beard shaver or anything, but you can imagine it’s difficult to shave your face with one hand. And of course, you’d jump at any opportunity to help out your boyfriend and allow him to relax and look pretty. After an unnecessarily long tutorial, Daniel pretends to have 100% faith in your skills and lets you take the first swipe across his cheek. You painstakingly use slow movements and light pressure, not forgetting to pull his skin tight with your other hand and clean the razor off with every stroke. You feel him tense underneath you as you ready to attempt shaving along his jawline.

Pulling back at the last second, you make to smack his shoulder before hesitating and pinching him instead (it’s his left arm, you don’t want to jostle his cast resting on the bathroom vanity), ignoring his yelp you nag him, “Well, don’t act like I’m about to gouge your throat out or anything! I can feel you freeze up underneath me—it’s not like I want to cut you. I already have to stare at your ugly face every day, I don’t want to make it worse.”

Daniel pretends to be offended at your attack and the two of you bicker back and forth before settling down. The fake roast session calmed Daniel enough that when you brought the razor to his jaw, he remained relaxed.

You smoothly shave the small area of skin and turn to clean the razor when Daniel speaks softly, “You’re so good,” a slight pause follows, “at this.”

The praise tingles down your spine and you think nothing of it. Except, it continues. With nearly every swipe along his jaw, he continues to murmur praise with lidded eyes and an alluring tone. Whispers along the lines of ‘good girl,’ ‘just like that,’ ‘you’re so sweet to me,’ and paired with his stare dancing across your face, you dread the moment you finish shaving him. As your razor ventures down his throat, the air grows thick with intimacy. It’s the result of your boyfriend trusting you to repeatedly brush a blade along his throat and your unfortunate kink for praise and acts of service. With the last brush of the razor, you gently set it down on the vanity, exchanging it for cloth you wet with hot water. Ringing it out thoroughly, you gently begin to wipe Daniel’s face avoiding eye contact. When you swipe around his lips, you get distracted by their flushed color, a result of when Daniel bit his lip to make the skin underneath taut for you to shave. His tongue slips out to wet them and you can’t help but smash your lips to his.

It feels euphoric. You’re kissing him frantically, moaning into his mouth without inhibition, and you can feel him laugh as he struggles to match your desperate pace. His hand squeezes at your waist, anchoring you yet furthering your desperation at the strong grip as you try to climb him like a tree, tugging at his hair, shirt, pants, anything you can reach. At this point, Daniel would’ve had a hand in your hair, tugging at your scalp sharply a couple of times to rein you in and move you to his rhythm. You’re a little lost at the missing sensation and you pull away to pout at Daniel like you always do when he spends too much time teasing you.

It takes one look at his blown pupils, smug smile, and heaving chest before it jogs your memory. You step backward quickly to put space between you guys, raising a hand when you see him open his mouth, knowing he’s only going to convince you to get naked for him.

“I’m going to bed,” you state with a pointed finger, “You, are going to get in the shower, with cold water, and think about what you did wrong. And! You will not wake me up for sex.”

Daniel’s face falls, and you can tell he expected you to break, “Wait—you don’t let me shower by myself, what if I fall?”

You turn and leave the room, “It would be divine intervention. Karma, for trying to get me to break my rule.”

Daniel doesn’t wake you when he slips into bed, but you lose the benefit of going to sleep early when you jolt awake before sunrise. Your mouth is dry and your panties are embarrassingly wet. You can’t recall a single detail of your dream. Still, your legs are trembling at whatever scenario your brain decided to torment you with.

Fuck it. Or fuck him, literally.

That makes sense. You’re going to ride Daniel, it’s the perfect position to make sure he doesn’t move his arm. You work him up beforehand so hopefully he won’t last as long; Daniel has unparalleled stamina usually, but with you constantly denying him for a while…he may wind up quicker. As soon as he cums, you’ll fake yours as well—because he’s only pleased if you're satisfied, otherwise he’ll attempt a round two. It’s that easy, right? You turn on your side and stare at Daniel, his face relaxed as he sleeps. Your synapses start firing as the plan comes to life. The two of you have discussed somnophilia, more on you as the receiving party. Daniel, of course, offered himself to you on a silver platter—any taste of you using him to get off? That’s always going to be a yes from him. So, yes. It is that easy.

You pull the duvet down to the edge of the bed and quietly shift to hover over Daniel’s thighs, never more thankful that he decided to wear only briefs to bed. And that he’s already half-hard; you’re extremely happy that the two of you don’t have a hand on how creative your dreams can get. He doesn’t shift when you pull his cock from underneath his briefs, carefully dragging them

down just enough to not be a bother. He stays under as you get him hard, it only takes a few strokes and some teasing along a vein on the underside. You rise slightly, sucking on two of your fingers before bringing them to rest along your entrance. It’s an annoying experience, you can’t remember the last time you had to stretch yourself out—Daniel’s spoiled you. The feeling of your fingers inside of you is underwhelming, the slight tinge of pleasure would be multiplied if it were him instead but; this is not for you. You are simply performing tonight.

You slide your fingers out and decide on getting Daniel as close to the edge as you can before he wakes up. You lean down to mouth at the head of his cock, knowing it’s incredibly sensitive and the sensation pushes him to the edge quicker than anything else. It can’t be more than a couple of strained minutes—your eyes and ears peeled to make sure you don’t miss any signs of Daniel starting to awaken. Thankfully, you feel him start to pulse along your tongue, a sure sign that he’s getting there.

You pull off, taking a second to breathe as you rest your head on his hip. With one last reassuring exhale, you move to straddle him, one hand underneath you to guide his length to your pussy. The second his head pops into you, you let out a pitiful whimper, eyelids fluttering shut, and your legs begin trembling again. Another realization hits you as you struggle to silently take all of Daniel.

You can’t recall a single time Daniel had forced you to be quiet. He’s always trying to make you scream his name. If he needs to hide your noises he muffles them with a hand over your mouth or his fingers in your mouth. Naturally, you use his tricks and do the same. With two of your fingers shoved in your mouth, you quiet your sounds as your ass meets your (somehow still) sleeping boyfriend's thighs. It feels like he’s in your throat; you know that no matter how long it takes you to make him cum, you’re going to be aching tomorrow. You begin to grind against him, whimpering softened around your digits. You slowly increase your rhythm up to a bounce, doing your best to squeeze around him—Daniel has mentioned before that he can’t resist cumming when you feel like you're trying to keep him inside of you and never let him pull out.

It must work because suddenly Daniel’s hips rock up into yours, and he’s awake with a singular breathy moan of, “Yes—oh, I thought I was still dreaming.”

You laugh airily, letting your spit-slicken fingers fall from your mouth and drop to press against your clit (you’re not actually, you’ve missed it by a mile but it’s all about convincing Daniel), avoiding meeting his eyes knowing Danny will assume it’s under the pretense of you being shy (once again, yes you are incredibly mortified, but you know he’ll be able to tell that you're faking this in a split second).

“H-how long,” Daniel moans out crackly, his abdomen contracting underneath you, “Have you been at this? ‘Gonna make me cum already.”

You nod frantically, moaning out loudly as if you’re on the edge as well. Daniel gets his feet planted and thrusts up into you forcefully enough that your moans turn real. Throwing your head back so he doesn’t see your face in case it gives you away, you continue to moan out exaggeratedly as you feel him cum inside you, pitching your voice and shuddering as if you released as well.

“What the fuck was that?” Daniel commands quietly.

You slump forward, sliding off his softening length and nuzzling into his neck to pretend like you didn’t hear him and to hide. He lets you avoid answering the first time he asks. He takes his good hand and fists his hand in the braids along the nape of your neck and tightens his grasp enough to get you to gasp.

“Mhm. When you cum, baby,” he starts softly, “That’s the quietest you ever get during sex. Usually, it’s because you choke on your breath, even though I remind you to breathe through it every time. You do this cute little thing where you try to slam your thighs shut around me, it doesn’t matter if it’s my hand, my head, or my hips, you try to crush me. It’s also one of the only times during sex when you make eye contact with me on your own, well depending on what position I have you in. I won’t repeat myself.”

You mumble into his chest fitfully before sitting up, “I didn’t want you to hurt your hand, okay? That’s all. During sex, you can never stop touching me and I was afraid that somehow you’d treat your hand a little too roughly and then, boom, you’ll never drive a Formula One car again—”

“Calm down, babe,” Daniel soothes you, bringing his right hand to massage your hip, “I think you’ve overdramatized my injury in your head a little bit. Firstly, I don’t even care if my hand suddenly fell off—genuinely, never deprive me of making you feel good. That hurts me more than my hand aches. Secondly, this entire time I didn’t even move my left hand off the bed. See?”

You look down at his hand and nod once. This entire time you enforced a needless sex ban when you could’ve been riding a high every day.

“Now, if you could be kind enough to let me restore my ego,” Daniel taps you on the ass so you rise to kneel over him, “C’mere and sit on my face.”

You hesitate, the thought of pretending to deny him crosses your mind, but you already shorted yourself of one orgasm tonight. That’s how you find yourself riding Daniel’s face, embarrassingly almost losing control of your legs at the first knock of his nose against your clit. Your boyfriend has mastered the skill of eating pussy and that’s why you feel no shame in just how quickly a few targeted thrusts of his tongue and the pressure of his nose have you shattering apart above him. And as Daniel said, you do choke on your breath as you climax, your legs tighten around his head as well—and you don’t have the strength to be humiliated at how he knows your body better than yourself.

Daniel guides you off his mouth and lays you down by his side only using the uninjured arm, and the care and strength behind that movement sends you shaking again through the aftershock and come down.

Daniel coaxes you onto your back and nudges your legs open to slide in between them. He trails the fingers of his right hand across your fluttering folds, before spreading you open with two fingers, enamored at the way your relaxed entrance winks at him.

“You can give me one or two more right? I think you need a reminder of how much I thrive off of making you feel good, pretty girl. Let’s see how many more I can get out of you before the sunrise.”

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#serene’s chapters.#httpss :// 2k special #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 x black!reader #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo x black!reader #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: dr.

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amuyyi · 5 months ago

Text

asleep .

synopsis; hanni was never big on physical affection... until she wasnt.

trope; hanni x 6th member!reader, fluff!

wc; 1.2 k

cw; n/a

a/n; i still dont know how to write but i heart hanni so its fine its OKAY its COOL !! just been listening to yearning music and stuff so BAM. aLSO!! i was also thinking of making "asleep among endives" the song attached to this... but idk i love the fluttery feeling of laufey.

It was a known fact by many that Hanni Pham was not one for physical affection— especially in public. Danielle trying to kiss her during a livestream? Dani-ed. Hyein trying to ask for affection? Rejected. Softly. Hell, even your attempts were futile most times.

Trying to hold her hand in public? Swatted away. Wrapping your arms around her waist while waiting in a line? She's whining out like you’ve just stabbed her. God forbid you try to kiss her hand or cheek (you’ve tried. She screamed.)

You were the opposite of Hanni Pham. Physical affection was one of your top if not the top love language of yours. Every living and breathing moment you had to be in contact with one of the members. Squeezing Hyein’s shoulder reassuringly during an interview, absentmindedly playing with Haerins fingers in the car, tapping and poking Minji’s back just to be a nuisance. It was just a natural everyday habit for you. More often than not, Danielle is the one to frequently reciprocate— she was just as affectionate as you were, after all. It wasn't uncommon to find the two of you within each other's arms, practically melded into one another.

You’ve learned over time that not many people are fans of being touchy. Unfortunate, but that's what Danielle was for. You had come to terms long ago that Hanni would never be interested in indulging in your neediness— not genuinely, at least.

… Or so you thought.

This week has been particularly rough. Back to back to back plans, on top of packed schedules for weeks on end. NewJeans is practically dominating the world, and though the attention and growth to your career was great… you were only human. You were practically still a kid. The world doesn't completely change once you hit twenty.

After what felt like forever, Japan promotions have finally ceased, and you alongside the girls finally have a chance to breathe. You collapse into your dorm bed, welcoming the plush mattress and blankets as you sigh. You genuinely cannot remember the last time you’ve been able to fully relax without an upcoming schedule looming over your head, let alone relax in your own bed.

allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the blankets and plushies, your eyes close. The muffled sound of Hanni in the nearby shower lulls you almost hypnotically into a drowsy state, leaving you drifting in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes.

you just about nearly knock out on the spot before you suddenly feel a mass slip into the bed with you. It was a fairly familiar feeling. Though, normally you were the one crawling into the other dorm beds, this was still a welcome experience. Too exhausted to open your eyes, you softly murmur.

“Dani… what’re you doing here…” you say, before subconsciously wrapping your arm around the mystery figure.

Huh. Feels different.

“I.. It's not Dani.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open as the sound of Hanni’s soft voice rings out. Surprised, you look down at the girl in your arms, who’s already settled comfortably in your arms, face buried into your chest. She seems to be avoiding your gaze. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, with the iconic bobbed wig set off to the side for the night. Her skin was cool to the touch, a welcome contrast to your warm contact.

A soft, almost nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you’re still caught incredibly off guard. “Han?? Whats.. what's up with this?” You try to pick your words carefully, not wanting to scare her off during such a rare event— but to be frank, you were never good with your words and on top of that, you were half asleep.

“M’just tired…”

You must either be dreaming, or this isn't Hanni. Maybe it's Danielle disguised as Hanni? Has Danielle finally managed to crawl into Hanni’s skin before you could? Damn.

The feeling of Hanni’s face burying deeper into your chest snaps you back to reality, and you hold your breath. Body tensing almost comically at this point. What do you do now? She's never willingly brought herself this close to you before. What if she’s just toying with you?

Very hesitantly, you slowly use the arm that's draped over her form to rub soothing circles onto her back. Much to your relief, the vietnamese girl seems to take well to the touch, letting out a soft sigh against your chest as she practically melts into your touch.

“I-Is this okay…?” You quietly whisper, and you get a soft, “mhm..” in response.

Okay, now you’re definitely beginning to overthink this. How does Hanni even like to be touched? Everyone has their own preferences on how to receive physical affection, after all. Physical touch is an art and a skill very few can master, and you were determined to prove you were more than capable.

Danielle had always been a fan of you playing with her hair— especially in its naturally curly form. Maybe Hanni would like the same?

Slowly, your hand begins to trail higher along her back, soon meeting her long, dark hair. You begin to gently card your fingers through the silky locks, resulting in a soft, satisfied hum from Hanni in response. The vietnamese girl was always the one to get the most interesting haircuts during comebacks, though she always made the effort to keep her natural hair as healthy as possible despite everything it's been put through. You don't even know how many times a new wig of just about any color has been slapped onto Hanni’s head.

Slowly, your fingers find their way up to her scalp. Her poor head must’ve gone through so much– nearly as much as Danielle’s, probably. Massaging her skin softly, Hanni becomes boneless in your arms. She loops her arms around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as her head cranes towards your touch. The gesture leaves your heart fluttering.

It seems like the touch is unfamiliar for her as well. Her movements are slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable. Neither of you decide to comment on it.

After being practically Hanni-starved for god knows how many years, you’re over the moon. You wanted this moment to stretch on forever. The shorter girl is practically purring against you at this point, absolutely relishing in your magic touch. Your legs tangled together beneath the sheets as your shared body heat fills the room with a welcomed warmth.

Now relaxing a bit more, you can fully take in the moment. The scent of Hanni’s shampoo fills your nostrils– peaches and cream. You had gifted her that shower set some Christmas ago. Nice to see it was still being put to good use.

The darkness envelops the both of you as a comforting silence passes. Hanni’s warm breath hits your neck as you feel her breathing steady, seemingly enamored by your touch. Her body feels soft, relaxed, and absolutely perfect against yours.

You still weren't sure exactly what prompted Hanni to come into your embrace in the first place. Maybe this would be the last time. Or maybe after another long work week, she’ll find her way back into your bed within the night.

But for now, you two remain comfortably entangled and engulfed by one another, the sound of soft snores filling the air as you slowly drift to sleep, feeling nothing but warmth within her arms.

#kpop #newjeans #hanni #pham hanni #pham ngoc han #kpop x female reader #hanni x reader #wlw #gxg imagine #hanni pham x reader #newjeans x fem reader #kpop fanfic #gg fanfic #newjeans x reader #Spotify

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thef1diary · 1 month ago

Note

Do you think dirtbag!Danny would go to far by accident and hurt the readers feeling and if si what would happen?

I think that’s definitely a possibility, and I’m glad you brought it up! Dirtbag!Danny is a cocky mf until he realizes he went too far with the physical (face slapping) and verbal degradation. Here’s how I think it would go. As always, 18+

You’re on his lap, straddling him, the heat between your bodies practically suffocating. His jeans are rough against your bare thighs, and you’ve been grinding against him like your life depended on it, chasing the friction that always makes you see stars. His lips are slightly swollen and wet from the messy kiss you’d just pulled him into.

It wasn’t supposed to feel different. It was supposed to be like every other time—hot, rough, and between the thin line of pleasure and pain. You loved the way Daniel fucked you, degraded you, made you feel things that no one else ever could. But tonight… tonight something shifts.

The slap comes fast, sharp against your cheek. It stings, just enough to make your skin tingle. It’s a line he’s crossed before, one you’ve begged him to cross. You reveled in the sting before, loving the way it made you feel owned and undone all at once. The sharp crack against your cheek left you gasping, but not in the usual way. This time, it didn't hit the same. This time, it felt less like heat and more like humiliation. Instead of the familiar thrill, a wave of something else washed over you—something colder, something that tightens your chest in a way you can’t explain.

Daniel doesn’t notice at first. His hand grips your jaw, thumb brushing over the spot he just marked. “Fuck, I love watching you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and taunting. “Always so desperate to cum, like the filthy little thing you are.”

You don’t respond. Not with a moan, not with a plea for more. You freeze, your body tensing beneath his touch, and he feels it. His grip falters, the confidence in his movements slowing.

“Hey,” he says, brow furrowing. His voice is still rough, but there’s a question now, a flicker of confusion. “You okay?”

You don’t answer immediately, eyes lowering as you try to push away the sting—not just on your cheek, but somewhere deeper. His fingers tighten in your hair, just slightly, like he’s unsure if he should let go or hold on tighter.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing louder than the last. His fingers stay in your hair but he doesn’t pull on it, a gentle tension that contrasts with the sharp slap from moments before. You’re still straddling him, still flush against his body, but everything feels off-kilter, like the ground has shifted beneath you.

Daniel tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually dark with lust and confidence, now hold something softer—concern, maybe, or confusion. “Talk to me,” he says, voice steady but quieter now. “Did I go too far?”

You want to answer, want to tell him you don’t know. Because you don’t. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before. But tonight, the lines you’ve drawn together blurred in a way that left you aching in the wrong way. Your lips part, but no words come out.

His thumb lingers on your cheek, the rough pad now tracing the tender spot he’d marked moments ago. The touch, once sharp and commanding, has softened, almost like an apology without words. He leans in, close enough that his forehead brushes against yours, the heat of him grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmurs again, his voice a little softer, more insistent now. “You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, just say it.”

You inhale shakily, the weight of his question pressing down on you. “I… I don’t know,” you finally whisper, your voice barely audible. “It just… felt different.”

Daniel’s jaw tightens, and you see the flicker of guilt pass across his face. He’s silent for a beat, like he’s processing your words, replaying the moment in his head. “Do you want to stop?” he asks, his tone careful now, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. His fingers shift, still holding your face but gentler now, as if he’s ready to let go if that’s what you need.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, your eyes drop to where your hands rest on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steady beneath your palms. The usual fire, the pull that always burned between you, feels distant now—dimmed by something you can’t quite name.

A shrug. It’s all you can manage at first, a half-hearted motion that feels as uncertain as the thoughts racing through your head. Your voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, more a question to yourself than to him. “What am I doing?”

Daniel’s grip tightens slightly—not possessive, not demanding, just enough to remind you he’s still there, still holding on. You swallow hard, the words you don’t want to say already forming. “You don’t want to deal with this,” you murmur, your gaze falling to your lap, to the space where your bodies are still connected. “You didn’t sign up for… this.”

His silence stretches out, and you brace yourself for it—the shift, the retreat. You can already picture him pulling back, standing up, grabbing his jacket and leaving. It would be easier for him, wouldn’t it? No strings, no messy emotions, no blurred lines.

But he doesn’t move.

“Stop that,” Daniel says quietly, his tone steady but firm. His thumb presses gently under your chin, lifting your face until your eyes meet his. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You blink, surprised by the weight of his gaze. His eyes, usually dark with something primal, now hold something else—something softer, but no less intense. “You think I don’t care?” he continues, his voice low and deliberate.

Your throat tightens, the vulnerability of the moment pressing against you. “I just… I didn’t think you’d want to stay after…” The words catch in your chest, too tangled to come out. How could you explain it?

His answer is immediate, and it cuts through the tension in the air with an unwavering certainty. “I’m not leaving,” he states firmly, the words spoken with the kind of finality that makes your chest feel a little lighter. But then, as if softening, a flicker of something gentler takes over his expression. “Unless you want me to go?”

You shake your head, the motion instinctive, because deep down, you know you don’t want him to leave. You want him here. With you. His hands, large and warm, settle on your waist, firm but not demanding, grounding you as if to remind you that he’s not going anywhere. His fingers press against your skin, and you realize that this simple act of touch is exactly what you need right now. “I’m not gonna leave you like this,” he adds softly, his voice full of promise.

“What do you need?” he asks, his breath warm against your temple. “Tell me, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the words caught in your throat, fighting with your own sense of pride and hesitation. You want to say it, but you’re afraid of how it might sound, how vulnerable it makes you feel. But before you can stop it, the words come tumbling out, quiet and unsure. “I just… I just want you to hold me.”

There’s a pause. A moment of stillness. You brace yourself, almost expecting the familiar teasing, the smirk that usually comes when you’re with him. You expect him to pull back, to make a joke, to remind you how he doesn’t do that sort of intimacy. But instead, his fingers trail up your spine, slow and deliberate, as if tracing the path to where you need him the most.

The air around you is thick with the weight of everything unspoken. As his hands slide up your back and pull you closer, the space between you is gone—your chest pressed firmly against his, and you feel his heartbeat in sync with yours. There’s no rush now, just the steady, reassuring rhythm of his touch, and the feeling of him holding you like you’re something he needs to protect, not just degrade.

You’re both silent for a long moment, the quiet around you louder than words. The heat of his breath against your skin, the subtle pressure of his arms around you—it’s all you can feel. His hand slides into your hair again, but this time it’s different. It’s tender, soothing, the movement a soft caress as his fingers trace the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry for pushing you too far, sweetheart.” His voice is low, intimate as it breaks through the silence. Daniel’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as though he can feel your vulnerability without words. His lips press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering just enough to make the moment feel more real, more intimate than anything before.

“I should’ve noticed sooner,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin, the weight of his words settling over both of you. There’s a slight tremor in his voice now, just enough to reveal the guilt simmering beneath his usual confidence. “I got caught up, and I didn’t stop to check in with you. That’s on me.”

His fingers trace soothing patterns along your spine, the gentle motion grounding you both. “You were so good for me,” he murmurs, his tone thick with something softer than you’re used to hearing. “So fucking good. And you were right to tell me. That’s my girl.”

Your breath hitches in your chest, the knot of tension loosening just a little. His touch is slow now, soothing, like he’s trying to erase the moments of doubt with every stroke of his fingers against your skin. His lips brush over your hairline, and you feel his warmth, his presence wrapping around you like a blanket.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his tone low and steady, reassuring in a way you never thought you’d hear from him. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here.”

And he meant it. He stayed as long as you needed him to.

#dirtbag!danny #thef1diary fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo blurb #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo smut

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33max · 1 month ago

Text

winter warmers ☃️ - day one, lingerie

max/daniel, 921 words, mostly sfw (only one cock mention and one hole mention)

Max is not usually shy. Daniel knows this and has experienced first-hand exactly how not shy Max is. There have been times when Daniel has been showering and Max has barged right in to take a piss a couple of feet away. A few too many times where Max has told Daniel, in excruciating detail, about the food poisoning he caught from a dodgy kebab shop in Milton Keynes. And more recently, he’s not been shy about how much he likes it when Daniel puts him face down on the mattress and pulls his ass cheeks apart to tongue at him there.

So, Daniel doesn’t know why Max is so tight-lipped about this particular thing. As far as kinks go, this is probably closer to the vanilla side of the kinky scale.

But Max is still shy about it. He blushes whenever Daniel brings the subject up. Once, he even choked on his mostly empty gin and tonic, coughing loudly until Daniel dropped the conversation and instead started patting him on the back.

The thing is, Daniel is like a dog with a bone. From the moment he first brought it up with Max and it elicited cherry red cheeks and a spluttering dismissal from his boyfriend, Daniel has thought of nothing else.

Two things are certain.

Max Verstappen wants to wear lingerie.

And Max Verstappen is too proud to admit it.

So Daniel takes it into his own hands, and starts searching for the most perfect lingerie set he can find for Max.

Choosing the right colour is hard because as far as Daniel is concerned, Max looks good in everything. But it’s important he gets this right.

Orange seems too obvious.

Red seems too predictable.

Navy blue is too close to Max’s work attire.

White would look lovely on Max’s pale skin, but Daniel is looking for something with contrast. Something that will stand out.

He sees a forest green set online and immediately starts entering his credit card information because he knows Max will look gorgeous in this colour. Milky white skin underneath forest green lace.

It has a corset, panties and a garter belt. Daniel doesn’t even bother to read the price tag. The price doesn’t matter when it’s for Max.

When the set arrives, Daniel spends a long time deciding how he is going to gift the set to Max… who probably still thinks he has successfully shown little interest in any sort of lingerie. After much deliberation, Daniel ends up leaving the set, wrapped up in a fancy gift box, on their bed for Max to find.

That way, Max can spend some time looking at the details without pretending to be uninterested in front of Daniel. He can run his fingers over the lace and hold it up to his body and maybe even try it on. So, as desperate as Daniel is to see Max’s reaction to the gift, he knows he needs to let Max process this by himself if he ever wants to actually see him in the lace.

Not that Daniel is counting but it is exactly forty-three minutes after Max walks into their bedroom and finds the lingerie that Daniel hears a faint “Daniel? Can you come here?”

He doesn’t know if he walks or teleports to the bedroom, but the next thing he knows he is standing in the doorway looking at Max, who is completely naked clutching the gift box tightly to his chest.

“Do you like them?” Daniel asks, letting his eyes roam over Max’s exposed skin. He’s so hot.

“No,” Max lies, but it’s with a small lopsided smile. His cheeks are pink.

“Are you sure?” Daniel laughs, eyes trailing to where Max’s cock is chubbing up between his legs. Twitching.

“Will you help me put them on?”

Daniel doesn’t answer him, it’s a silly question, and he is already practically vibrating with anticipation. Instead, Daniel walks towards Max and carefully takes the box out of his grip.

“Let’s get you all dressed up,” Daniel says, leaning in to press a line of kisses along Max’s collarbones. “You are going to look so beautiful in these, baby. I bought them just for you.”

Max lets out a tiny breathy moan.

“How long have you wanted this?” Daniel can’t help but ask. He’s been dying to know.

“I don’t know,” Max blushes harder, his cheeks so pink. “Always.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max shrugs. “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“Maxy, it’s totally normal. It’s a normal thing to want.” Daniel reassures. “You could be into almost anything, and I’d be into it too because you like it.”

Max blushes harder.

“Baby?” Daniel says. He’s very aware that Max is still completely naked, and he is fully clothed, he doesn’t want Max to feel too exposed so he will drop it the moment Max looks even slightly overwhelmed.

“Itsnotjustasexthing!” Max blurts out, before turning away, his eyes firmly avoiding Daniel.

It takes a few moments to process what Max has said. It’s not just a sex thing.

“Max, baby, look at me.” Daniel says, “Even more reason to let yourself wear them.”

Max’s blue eyes search Daniel’s until finally, those words seem to sink in.

“Ok?” Daniel asks.

“Ok.”

“Let’s get you in these panties,” Daniel says, tickling at Max’s sides.

Daniel is right. Forest green is Max’s colour.

#winterwarmers2024 #writing #maxiel

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ricciardo133 · 2 months ago

Text

Winter Break 2025

maxiel, weight gain, body worship, pregnancy briefly alluded to

Daniel always loves the way Max looks during the winter months. As Max steps into Daniel's Monaco apartment, Daniel eyes the tight fit of Max's running shorts along his softening hips.

"So, you have new merch?" Max asks, oblivious to Daniel's ogling. Daniel snaps to attention and follows Max into the living room.

"Well, obviously. As your new sponsor, we gotta make a whole Verstappen collection," Daniel adds with jazz hands for pizazz. "And I wanted to get your approval before we send the designs to print and you're stuck wearing all this for a year."

"It can look like anything," Max says, unbothered.

"Oh, good. I'll tell them we're a go on the Enchanté-branded assless chaps."

Max laughs, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Yeah, perfect for Media Day. I assume there is a matching cowboy hat."

Daniel feels his cheeks flush, picturing Max actually wearing that combination and nothing else.

"Just try on the samples and humor me, Maxy."

Thankfully, he's now not the only one blushing. They've been friends for long enough to know how to edge the unspoken line without ever crossing it, neither ever making that final push to send them spiraling onto one side or the other.

"Yeah, alright," Max says. "I'll do a fashion show."

Daniel claps and leads Max over to the dining room table where an already-opened cardboard box holds an assortment of red, blue, white, and orange apparel. He holds up one of the pull-overs, assessing which to try first.

"They're just the rough drafts, so let me know if you think they look like ass."

"No, Daniel, they look very cool. I like the classic look. And the big "É." Very you."

Daniel feels his dick twitch in his pants, thinking of Max branded with his label, marked as his, for the world to see. He tosses the shirt into Max's arms and pulls out a pair of summery shorts to match. "Just give these a spin. I sent them your size, so they should fit."

Daniel has seen how deep the flush can go over the years, like an old-timey thermometer measuring of how flustered his younger friend can get. He bites his full lips as his neck turns pink.

"I, uh, might be a bit bigger right now. But they'll fit for Melbourne. I'll look better."

"You look great now, Max."

Max spins on his heels and into the adjacent half-bath, door closing, as if Daniel hadn't seen him almost naked before. Daniel sits on the barstool at the kitchen island.

Sometimes he hates gooning this fucking horny friendship line and wishes he could just buck up the nerve to say something. Anything. Maybe now that they're not somewhat teammates, it'd be okay? Or is it inappropriate for a patron to think about cupping their client's ass and spreading his soft flesh-

"Okay, remember, they'll fit better in a few months."

Daniel looks up and feels his body tighten as he takes in the sight of him. Max squirms in the pull-over, zipper done all the way up. The orange sleeves hug his full arms, and the white, soft fabric stretches tight along his chest. Oh God, his tits, Daniel thinks guiltily before trying and failing to think about the design aspect of all this and not how Max's soft stomach pulls the pullover's fabric taught. His fuller belly peeks over the top of the shorts. His hips, always seemingly begging to be held, curve and slope down to full thighs. Max shaved. His normally fuzzy legs smooth as he shifts his weight on one bare foot to the other.

"I know," Max says, voice nervy. "It happens every year. I'm on holiday, but I'll get better."

"Don't say that," Daniel gets up. He feels the line veering closer, like pushing too hard on a circuit he knows by heart. He stops just an inch beyond appropriateness. "You look great."

"Daniel." He can't parse the pleading note in Max's voice, something shaky.

"You always look so good this way," Daniel goes on, watching Max's big blue gaze get thrown in starker contrast as his cheeks flush again. Max even shaved his face. He looks so young, like when he was his teamma-

"Daniel," Max says again. "I just feel too big."

"You're perfect, Max. You normally don't wear these things zipped all the way up, though. More like this,"

The line. Daniel crosses it, fingers gently pulling the pull-over's zipper down at an agonizingly slow rate. He didn't realize Max was holding his breath until he shudders a shaky exhale.

"Does it feel good?" Daniel asks, hands trailing up the sleeves, feeling the soft fabric casing Max's biceps.

"Yes. It's good."

"And not too tight here?" Daniel lets his hands draw inwards along Max's chest. Seeing he's already blown past the point of no return, he lets his palms rest over Max's full breasts. "Is it okay?"

Max nods, fast. Through parted reddened lips, Daniel sees Max's perfect, glistening tongue against his straight teeth.

Daniel squeezes. Max keens, a note Daniel has never heard from the other man. He rubs, making gentle circles over hardening nipples.

"Oh, Daniel," Max whispers.

"Maxy," Daniel returns, hands trailing lower, feeling the full rise of his belly. "Breathe."

Max acquiesces, belly shuddering. Daniel relishes the soft, pliable skin below the warm fabric.

"You look so good like this, Max," he says, stepping even closer. He lets his gaze dip, feeling Max's head lower to rest their foreheads together as Daniel stares at his soft belly. He rubs gentle lines around it, dick hardening as Max lets his body go even softer. He could even look three months pregnant, how round and full he fills out the top.

Max whispers his name again and then again as Daniel pulls up the fabric and finally touches smooth skin and then once more as Daniel's fingers dip into the waistband of the shorts, exploring back as Daniel presses flush to squeeze his hands into Max's full, soft ass.

"You deserve to feel good," Daniel says into Max's ear, words falling on the red nape of his neck. "At every weight, you deserve to be so fucking worshiped, Max."

"Oh my God, Daniel."

Daniel squeezes again, more firmly this time as he traces up to hold his pillowy hips. They always look so bitable in his fireproofs, and now they're filling out even more in the too-tight shorts, begging to be gripped. To be used for everything Daniel has wanted for years.

"I know," Daniel says, suddenly self-conscious, "this is, uh, a lot."

"It's good," Max asserts, his own hands flying to Daniel's back as if to keep him in place. "If it's good for you."

Daniel snorts a laugh, letting his hips rut forwards. His stiff cock meets Max's soft thigh. Max whines.

"More than good, Maxy." He presses his lips into heated, soft skin at Max's shoulder. "You're perfect like this. So fucking perfect." He reels at Max pressing his own hard length into Daniel's hips. It's bliss. Max's body, warm and eager and full and, for now, his.

"Alright, so, should I try on the others?" Max asks, a gentle mirth in his tone.

"Yeah, let me help you take these off first."

#maxiel #tagging with only the ship at the moment!!#ah my first rpf pancake #absolutely due to the supercross merch 🙂‍↕️#and my love for soft Max

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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago

Note

“you’re blurring your words together, time for bed.”

“You’re my favorite person”

The reader is dead tired but won’t sleep because they want to spend time with Lewis.

Hi bestie!!This was soooo adorable to think about. Loved writing it. My heart's warm and cozy now ❤️

“you’re blurring your words together, time for bed.” and “you’re my favorite person”

Laughter filled the air, bouncing off the walls of Lewis' LA home. Miles was in the middle of a particularly dramatic retelling of his latest competition, complete with exaggerated hand gestures, while Daniel doubled over in his chair, tears streaming down his face. Y/N sat nestled between Lewis’ legs on the couch, a mug of lukewarm tea warming her hands.

The jetlag was a cruel beast. She'd arrived earlier that day, her body still clinging to the rhythm of a different time zone. The warmth of the mug and the gentle strumming of the guitar in the background were pulling her eyelids heavy, but she fought against it. These stolen moments with Lewis, surrounded by their friends, who were practically family, were too precious to waste sleeping.

"So, then I told the dude…" Miles continued, his voice rising. Y/N tried to focus, a smile plastered on her face. Lewis, however, wasn't buying it. He caught her gaze drifting towards the flickering fire in the fireplace, her blinks becoming increasingly heavy.

"Hey," he said softly, leaning closer. “You okay there?”

Y/N jolted, her head snapping towards him. "Yeah, I'm fine!" she stated, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Just… absorbing Miles' epic tale."

Lewis raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Right," he said, his voice teasing. "You're blurring your words together love, time for bed."

Y/N's smile faltered. Busted. She mumbled something incoherent about metaphors and Miles' dramatic license.

Lewis chuckled softly, his hand reaching for hers. "Come on," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "We can catch up on epic tales tomorrow. You need your rest."

"But…" she started, her voice a pitiful whine. "We only have, like, two days free before we leave, and I don't want to… sleep… when I could be spending time with you…”

Her words slurred together, the drowsiness winning the battle against her determination. Lewis watched her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knew her too well, but this was a whole new level of jetlag adorable. He glanced over at his friends, who were watching the exchange with knowing smiles.

"Guys," he announced, his voice carrying over the soft music, "hold down the fort. I think it’s time for Y/N and I to call it a night."

There were groans and good-natured teasing from his friends, but they readily agreed, a chorus of goodbyes following as Lewis placed a gentle hand on her lower back, guiding her towards the French doors leading inside.

Y/N swatted playfully at his hand. "I'm not that tired," she mumbled, but her eyelids were drooping like heavy curtains.

Lewis reached the doors and ushered her inside, the cool air hitting them like a gentle wave. He led her, stopping at the entrance to the bedroom. It was a haven of warm browns and greys, a stark contrast to the whites of the rest of the house

"Bed," Lewis said firmly, but with a smile. He knew better than to argue with a sleep-deprived Y/N for too long.

She pouted again; a childish expression that always seemed to get him wrapped under her fingers. "But this is our free night," she whined, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to sleep. I want to spend time with you."

"And you will," he promised, pulling her into a hug. The warmth of his body soothed her, and she burrowed closer, the fight draining out of her.

"You're my favorite person," she mumbled into his chest, her voice thick with sleep.

Lewis chuckled, the sound vibrating against her ear. "That's good to know," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "Now, get some sleep, my favorite person."

He guided her towards the bed, pulling back the covers. As she lay down, sleep already tugging at the corners of her mind, Lewis joined her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You won't leave in the morning, will you?" she asked, her voice low and faint. "Not a chance" he whispered, nuzzling his face into her hair.

______________________________________________________________

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#Ella500 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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its-avalon-08 · 6 months ago

Note

y/n neglecting danny boy, shes being a bitch abt it because of work. angst, happy ending

THANKS!

a inconvenience in your world (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - alot of angst, tears, neglect, happy ending

The faint scent of burnt toast hung in the air, a stark contrast to the usual aroma of freshly brewed coffee that greeted Daniel most mornings. He shuffled into the kitchen, his back already protesting the sudden movement. The Baku crash still lingered, a dull ache settling in his lower back every time he spent too long sitting or inactive.

Y/N was hunched over her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration. She glanced up at him briefly, a tired smile flickering across her face.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice strained. "Big day?"

Daniel forced a smile, the gesture feeling stiff. "Usual training. You sure you can't make it for breakfast again?"

Y/N sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "Look, babe, I know we rescheduled last night, but this project is a monster. Maybe next week?"

Disappointment gnawed at him, but he pushed it down. "Yeah, sure. Text me when you're done, okay? We can grab dinner."

Y/N nodded absently, her eyes already glued back to the screen. "Sounds good."

two weeks later

Daniel scrolled through his phone, a growing sense of unease settling in his gut. Y/N's last text, a hurried apology for missing their planned movie night, had been three days ago. Calls went straight to voicemail, texts remained unanswered. He knew she was busy, but the complete lack of communication gnawed at him.

He finally caught her on a Wednesday evening, her voice breathless and clipped.

"Hey, Y/N, finally—"

"Daniel, I'm in the middle of something super important. Can we talk later?"

"But—"

The line went dead. He stared at the phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. He tried texting again, a simple "thinking of you," but it remained stubbornly on "delivered" just like the others.

friday night

Exhaustion weighed on Daniel as he returned from training. He longed for a home-cooked meal, some quiet time with Y/N. But the apartment was empty, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. He reheated a leftover curry, the taste bland on his tongue. The once vibrant apartment felt cold and sterile, mirroring the distance growing between him and Y/N.

He sank onto the couch, picking up his phone. Y/N's social media profiles were a whirlwind of work updates and inspirational quotes, a curated life devoid of any mention of him. A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed at him, quickly followed by a wave of sadness. Where had the goofy selfies and mushy captions gone? Where had his sunshine smile gone?

a few days later

The slam of the front door echoed through the apartment, a punctuation mark to a fight Y/N didn't see coming. It had started innocently enough, the clatter of a plate hitting the counter as Daniel placed it in the drying rack.

"Seriously, Daniel?" Y/N snapped, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. "Couldn't you just leave it in the sink? I'm swamped here."

Daniel froze, the plate suspended mid-air. A deep frown creased his forehead, a stark contrast to the grimace he'd been trying to hide for the past hour. His lower back had been throbbing ever since his training session that morning, but adrenaline and the hope of spending some quality time with Y/N had kept him going. Now, both the pain and his hope were fading fast.

"Y/N," he started, his voice strained, "it would have taken two seconds to put it away."

"Ugh, not this again," she sighed, finally tearing her gaze away from the screen. "Look, I appreciate you making dinner, but I'm on a deadline. Can we talk about this later?"

Daniel stared at her, his jaw clenched. "Later? That seems to be our new thing, doesn't it? Later for dinner, later for that movie you promised, later for even a simple conversation."

Y/N bristled. "Don't make this about you. I have a very demanding job right now."

"Demanding?" Daniel scoffed, his voice laced with hurt. "Who just spent the last two weeks glued to that laptop, cancelling every date night, blowing off my calls mid-conversation because of some 'urgent' email?"

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, then stopped. The accusation hung heavy in the air, a truth she couldn't deny. Shame burned in her gut, hot and unwelcome.

"Look," she started placatingly, "I know I've been distant, but this project is huge. Once it's over—"

"Once it's over?" Daniel cut her off, his voice tight with a mix of anger and pain. "What about me, Y/N? When was the last time you even asked how my back was after that crash in Baku?"

Y/N flinched. A vague memory of a news report about the crash flickered in her mind, but the details were hazy, lost in the sea of emails and reports flooding her inbox.

"I, uh…" she stammered, guilt twisting in her stomach. "You said you were fine."

A humorless laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Right, because superheroes don't feel pain, do they?" He slammed the plate down on the counter, the clatter echoing in the tense silence. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.

"I do everything for you, Y/N," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Cook your meals, clean the apartment, manage your schedule – all while training and racing across the globe. But apparently, that's not enough. Because apparently, I'm just a fucking inconvenience to fit in between your precious deadlines."

Tears streamed down Y/N's face, a dam finally breaking. The words hit her like a physical blow, the truth stinging worse than any deadline.

"Daniel, I—" she started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

"Just save it," he said, his voice raw. "I need some air."

He stormed out of the apartment, leaving Y/N alone in the deafening silence. The echo of his words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the love she'd been neglecting, the connection she'd taken for granted. The laptop screen glowed accusingly, its light failing to penetrate the suffocating darkness that had settled around her.

The deafening silence that followed Daniel's departure pressed in on Y/N, heavy and suffocating. The laptop screen remained a dull beacon, its light failing to pierce the shame that gnawed at her. She numbly pushed herself to her feet, drawn to the kitchen counter where the forgotten plate stood.

Her gaze drifted around the room, finally seeing for the first time in weeks. The dishes were gleaming, not a single one left in the sink. The fridge hummed contentedly, stocked with fresh groceries. Panic clawed at her throat. This wasn't takeout night. This was Daniel, anticipating her needs, taking care of them without a single complaint.

She stumbled through the apartment, every corner revealing another silent testament to his love. Folded laundry sat neatly on the couch, a stark contrast to the usual clutter. Her work papers, once scattered across the dining table, were now organized into neat stacks on her desk, a laptop charger coiled beside them - fully charged, a silent reassurance.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. How could she have been so blind? He'd become an invisible pillar, supporting her life while his own needs went unnoticed. Grabbing her phone, she dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was no answer, only the cold, impersonal voice of voicemail.

Panic twisted into a knot in her stomach. She couldn't wait. She threw on a jacket, her phone clutched in her hand as she sprinted out the door. His favourite park, their usual coffee shop, all flashed through her mind, rejected one after another. Where would he go?

Suddenly, a memory surfaced. A conversation weeks ago, about a quiet spot by the river he'd discovered during training. With renewed hope, she hailed a cab, directing the driver to the location.

It was a small clearing, a patch of green tucked away from the city's bustle. As she approached, a choked sob escaped her lips. Daniel sat on a weathered bench, head buried in his hands, his broad shoulders slumped. Even from a distance, she could see the tremor that ran through him.

The river shimmered in the fading light, casting a golden sheen on the tears that streamed down Y/N's face. Daniel sat beside her, a tense silence stretching between them, broken only by the gentle gurgling of the water. Finally, Y/N broke the quiet, her voice thick with emotion.

"Daniel, I..." she started, her voice catching. "I don't even know where to begin."

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. The vibrant blue of his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, was clouded with hurt.

"You could start with an apology," he said, his voice low and controlled.

Y/N flinched. "I am apologizing, Daniel. From the bottom of my heart. I was so caught up in work, in this damn deadline, that I completely lost sight of everything else. I neglected you, ignored your needs, and for that, I am truly sorry."

A bitter laugh escaped Daniel's lips. "Sorry doesn't quite cut it, Y/N. You weren't just a little busy. You were completely absent. Remember all those cancelled dinners? The calls I practically had to beg you to answer? The constant feeling that I was just an inconvenience in your schedule?"

Y/N's head hung low, the weight of his words crushing her. "I know," she whispered. "I have no excuse. I just… work became this monster, this all-consuming thing that stole everything from me, including my ability to see what was right in front of me."

"And what exactly was in front of you, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with a barely suppressed anger. "Because all I saw was a woman who didn't have a single moment to spare for the man who loves her."

Shame burned in Y/N's gut. "No, that's not true. You… you're the most important person in my life. You're my best friend, my confidante, the person I want to share everything with. But I let work come between us, creating a wall I didn't even realize I was building."

Daniel remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Y/N reached for his hand, but he pulled away, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

"You know," he began, his voice tight, "the worst part wasn't the missed dates or the cancelled plans. It was seeing you come home exhausted, glued to that laptop, barely acknowledging my presence. It made me feel invisible, like I didn't matter."

Y/N's heart ached. The image of him, sitting alone at the dinner table she never made it to, fueled the fire of shame within her.

"I see that now," she choked out. "And the truth is? You do matter, Daniel. More than anything. You're my rock, my anchor, the sunshine that makes my world brighter. I was just… so foolish to take it all for granted."

"Love shouldn't be taken for granted, Y/N," he said, his voice softening slightly. "It needs nurturing, attention. It needs to be a two-way street."

Y/N nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. "I understand that now. And I'm willing to put in the work, Daniel. To make things right. To show you just how much you mean to me."

He looked at her, a flicker of hope fighting its way through the pain in his eyes. "Actions speak louder than words, Y/N. Can you prove it?"

"Yes," she said, her voice firm with conviction. "I'll prove it every single day. I'll set boundaries with work, prioritize our time together, and be the partner you deserve. I won't let my career overshadow our love."

Daniel sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It won't be easy, Y/N. Trust takes time to rebuild."

"I know," she agreed. "But I'm willing to put in the time, as long as you are."

Silence fell again, but this time, it was different. It wasn't a tense gap, but a space for contemplation, for a shared breath.

Finally, Daniel reached for her hand, his touch gentle but firm. "I… I want this to work, Y/N. But I need you to understand, if this happens again, if work takes over once more, then I can't keep going down this same path."

Y/N squeezed his hand tightly. "I understand. It won't happen again. I promise."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the river, a fragile hope blossomed between them. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with open communication, a commitment to change, and the unwavering flame of love.

The last rays of the sun painted the river a fiery orange, mirroring the burning intensity in Daniel's eyes. Y/N held her breath, waiting for his answer, the weight of her apology heavy in the air.

Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the burden of weeks, Daniel reached out. Not for her hand, but for her. He pulled her close, engulfing her in a hug that spoke volumes more than any words could.

His arms wrapped around her tightly, his hold a mixture of relief and lingering hurt. Y/N buried her face in his chest, the familiar scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body a sudden comfort.

"Just… don't do it again, alright?" he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Work will always be there, but you… you're irreplaceable."

Y/N nodded, tears soaking into his shirt. "Never again, Daniel. I promise."

He loosened his grip slightly, tilting her head back to look at him. His eyes, the color of a summer sky after a storm, were still troubled, but a flicker of forgiveness danced within them.

"You scared me, Y/N," he confessed, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. "The thought of losing you… it was unbearable."

A choked sob escaped her lips. "I love you, Daniel. More than words can say. Don't you ever doubt that."

He cupped her face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "I know you do," he whispered, his voice husky. "And that's why this matters so much. Because I love you too, Y/N. More than racing, more than anything in this world."

He leaned in then, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness, with a renewed promise, and most importantly, with a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger.

As they pulled apart, foreheads resting together, a gentle breeze ruffled their hair. The setting sun cast an orange glow on their intertwined figures, a symbol of a new beginning, a love story rekindled with the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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An Illicit Affair

Part One: My Boyfriend's Father

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

It was 15 months ago when you first met the man who, unbeknownst to you, would eventually become the center of your disastrous life and that man was not your current boyfriend Maximilian Murphy, a twenty-two-year-old Irishman from Dublin.

You had been going out with Max for about a year when you met the man who changed everything for you and, whilst Max was almost an entire year younger than you, you had both met at London's top medical school after he had transferred from Trinity College.

Max was energetic, confident and intelligent. He was popular with the girls and, although you were drawn to him because of his sense of humor and easygoing nature, it was quite obvious to you that he was much less serious about life in general than you were.

After a year of non-serious dating, Max eventually told you that he was taking you to Dublin for his father's 46th birthday and it was then when you first laid eyes on him. Cillian Murphy, your boyfriend's father.

The name "Cillian Murphy" didn't ring any bells for you at the time as you had never seen any of his films, but now, 15 months later, you knew everything that there was to know about him due to the publicity his movie Oppenheimer had received in recent weeks.

You went to see the movie too with some friends and whilst you had broken up with Max about a year earlier, you happened to recall the weekend you shared with him and his family in Dublin.

Both Cillian and his wife Danielle made you feel welcome when you arrived with their son Max late on a Friday afternoon at their large Victorian townhouse near the coast, just outside Dublin.

The house was decorated with tasteful modern furniture and a collection of modern art hung on the walls. The living room featured large windows overlooking the sea with heavy curtains blocking the view when needed.

You spent most of Saturday relaxing by the pool with Max, swimming and sunbathing before enjoying a dinner prepared by Danielle for her husband's birthday.

As you sat down at the table, Cillian seemed distracted, and it wasn't until the second glass of wine that he asked you more about yourself and your aspirations.

"So, what do you want to specialize in?" he asked and you looked down at your plate and replied softly, "I haven't decided yet. I think I might enjoy working in pediatrics."

"Working with children can be emotionally demanding," Cillian said, "but I am sure it's incredibly rewarding," he then went on to say before acknowledging that Max had told him that you were at the top of your class.

"It sounds like you have a bright future ahead of you," he told you and your heart fluttered a bit as you heard his voice, deep and resonant, filled with warmth and confidence. It was a contrast to Max's playful teasing, something about which made you feel comfortable and safe.

Danielle, Cillian's wife, chimed in with a question for you, "What got you interested in medicine in the first place?" she asked. You paused for a moment, considering how best to explain such a complex answer.

"Well, my dad was a doctor, so healthcare was a part of our household growing up," you began thoughtfully. "But the real turning point came during high school when I visited a friend who was hospitalized with leukemia. Her doctors and nurses took such great care of her, and it really opened my eyes to the impact that medicine could have on people's lives."

Cillian nodded along, seemingly genuinely interested in your response.

"That's amazing," he murmured. "You are genuinely empathetic and that's a good trait to have, especially as a doctor," he went on to say with a smile and you couldn't help but blush slightly under his intense gaze. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through you, making you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn't felt before. But instead of feeling uncomfortable, you found yourself strangely drawn to him. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to spend more time with him despite the fact that he was twice your age.

The day after his birthday party, while you were lounging around the poolside, you couldn't help but notice Cillian looking at you intently from across the lawn. His eyes held a mysterious glint, a curiosity that seemed to grow stronger every minute.

As if sensing your presence, he approached you and started a friendly conversation. The topics ranged from movies to books, and even personal interests. It was a pleasant surprise finding out that both of you shared a love for Jazz before Max pointed out to you that Jazz music was for "old people", causing Cillian to laugh.

The sound of Cillian's laughter was soothing and comforting.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as adrenaline surged through your veins. You tried to compose yourself, focusing on the casual exchange of small talk, hoping to distract yourself from the strong attraction you felt towards your own boyfriend's father.

But no matter how hard you tried, those enchanting blue eyes kept drawing you back in. The subtle smell of his cologne lingered in the air, filling your senses with a mix of excitement and shame.

Luckily for you however, on Sunday morning, Max and you travelled back to London, leaving behind the memory of the lingering gaze that Cillian gave you as you boarded the plane while, in hindsight, you realized that Cillian's gaze did leave something behind - a seed planted between the lines of your otherwise innocent encounter.

In the months that followed, you found yourself thinking about Cillian more often than you expected and, unfortunately for Max, at the same time as fantasizing about his father, you became more and more annoyed by his immaturities.

And then, one evening, after another argument between you and Max over whether you should go clubbing or stay in and study, you finally snapped.

"This isn't working out anymore, Max," you told it him straight. "We need different things in life and we would be better off breaking up now rather than prolonging something that won't work long term," you told Max, sitting on the bed of his dorm room, causing his chin to drop.

"You don't mean it," he said, sounding shocked.

"Yes, I do," you said firmly as you looked away from him, knowing that he wouldn't understand why you couldn't go on like this.

"No, please, give me another chance. We can make this work," Max pleaded, moving closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm.

"No, Max, I've made up my mind," you said firmly, avoiding his pleading eyes.

You knew that it was only a matter of time before Max would come to terms with the truth, but you also knew that the process would be painful for both of you.

Max moved closer, grasping your hand gently. "Maybe we just need to communicate better," he suggested, his eyes full of hope. "I love you, you know. I am happy to try anything," he continued but you shook your head.

You pulled your hand away, fighting back tears. "I just... I can't anymore, Max," you whispered quietly. "We tried to make it work several times, but our expectations are quite different. I am taking university serious, but you are not. You have different interests and I think that you would be better of with someone else," you confessed, averting your gaze.

"But... but, what about the future? What about us?" Max stammered, desperation seeping into his tone. You remained silent, allowing the silence to hang heavily between you two. Finally, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N," Max pleaded, his voice quivering. "We have been together for a year, surely we can find a way to make it work. I promise."

You shook your head sadly, unable to meet his desperate gaze.

"We are both still young and year is nothing if you are in your early twenties. I'm sorry, Max," you managed to whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I think it's best if we end things here."

He let out a choked sob, his face crumpling. "Please," he implored, clutching onto your wrist. "Don't leave me like this."

But you couldn't stand it any longer, pulling your arm free. "I need space, Max," you said sharply, rising to your feet.

"I need to focus on myself and my studies right now," you told him while, deep down inside, you knew that something was missing, something was holding you back from fully committing to your relationship.

And it wasn't long before fate intervened as, just over year after your breakup with Max, you ran into Cillian again at a jazz concert in London...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction

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bitingdrivers · 15 days ago

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👔 2 times max saw daniel without his suit (a very loose definition of the word ‘without’) and one time daniel saw max in one. bones au, maxiel, 1.4k words. also, there's a smallest vaguest mention of death and viscera, be prepared!

Max makes his way through the floor, passing agents who are going home after a long day. Without people the floor looks empty yet cluttered at the same time – dozens of identical desks covered in papers, files, and dirty mugs.

The office is dark when Max finally reaches its glass doors, an old lamp painting the room with orange light.

Daniel is sitting at his desk. His suit jacket is draped over his chair, the shoulder holsters are a stark contrast to his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He is drinking. The whiskey looks like amber in the warm light of the lamp.

“Daniel,” Max says as he enters the office. “Are you okay?” He tentatively moves further into the room.

Daniel looks up at him and breathes out “Yeah. It's just...harder. When it's a kid.” His voice is hoarse.

Max nods before sitting down in the chair opposite him. “Yes, I understand–”

“No, it's-” Daniel groans, rubbing his face. “I have a niece and a nephew. They are close to the age the victim was. It was just…hard. Seeing his skeleton. So small.” His voice is barely a whisper at the end.

Max didn't know Daniel had a niece or a nephew, but he supposes it's normal. Maybe he would be an uncle too, if he still talked to his sister. If he knew where she even was.

He looks out the window. It's so quiet he can hear the sounds of the street below.

“I-I was at Waco. Branch Davidian compound. I helped identify children who had been killed in the fire. 17 of them,” Max says watching headlights pass by like shooting stars.

“Are you saying you get used to it?” Daniel says. His knuckles are white from gripping the empty glass.

Daniel’s collar is unbuttoned, his tie a little loose. Max looks back out the window.

“No. I'm saying you'll never get used to it.”

The reflection of the lamplight in Daniel's eyes looks like the stars as well.

“How long will this take?” Daniel is sitting on the table in the bone room. His suit is covered in pieces of flesh, cartilage, and bone.

“As long as it takes to remove all the evidence.” Max helps him remove the jacket and puts it in an evidence bag.

Daniel moves to start unbuttoning his shirt, but Max stops him. “Don't touch anything, Daniel! You might compromise the evidence.” Max loosens and takes off Daniel's tie. It has honey badgers printed on it. It's not completely ruined by the viscera, so Max hopes Daniel will get it back.

“So. Uh. Do you think it was suicide? The guy tries to rob the bank, but it doesn't work. He blows himself up to escape the jail?” Max can see Daniel's throat bobbing as he unbuttons his shirt.

“Carlos said the bomb was triggered via two-way radio. He probably had an accomplice,” Max says as he takes off Daniel's shirt. “Maybe we can track the sig–Oh.”

“Wh-what? Is there goop on me?” Daniel jumps off the table and swivels his head around to check his back.

“No, no. It's just, I didn't know you have more tattoos,” Max is used to seeing the three on his pinky and the rose on his thumb, and sometimes he catches a glimpse of “free,” “love,” or the cupid inked on his forearms. Now Max sees Daniel's tanned and muscled torso, his smooth chest and, more importantly, his tattoos.

“Oh. Yeah, I had a lot of fun in my youth.” He looks at the astronaut on his left shoulder with a fond smile.

“You say it like you're an old man,” Max chuckles and drops to his knees. He is about to undo the belt when Daniel jerks back.

“Woah–uh. Wha-what are you doing?” Daniel stammers, looking down at Max. His eyes are big.

“There's more evidence on your pants. I of course need to remove them too,” Max explains. Daniel pauses, looking into Max’s eyes. Then he nods and looks away.

Max quickly makes work of Daniel's belt and the pants fall down. There are more tattoos – colorful and big – wrapping around his thigh.

Max wants to ask more about them when he looks up and. “Daniel. What?”

“Huh?” Daniel looks down at him. Max can see the tensed muscles of his thighs. Daniel's knuckles are white from gripping the edge of the table.

“Why do you have… Bring pink?”

Daniel looks at his boxers. Then he exhales and his face relaxes. “Oh. Yeah. These are my… favorites. Don't like to be boring, you know?”

Max is glad to see Daniel’s big smile is back. “You remind me of this bird–” Max tugs at the pants pooled at Daniel’s ankles so he can step out of them, “–Cinnyricinclus leucogaster.”

Daniel makes a confused noise.

Max stands up and moves to put away the pants. “Violet-backed starling. The males have this bright violet plumage to attract mates.”

“Hah, yeah. I'm all about attracting mates.”

When Max turns around, Daniel is looking right at him.

The building is mostly empty as Daniel makes his way to the lab. This case was not the easiest one, so he is glad that it's finally over. He spent the last few hours going through all the paperwork to make sure the guy will be locked in prison for the next 15 years.

It has become their tradition to go for a drink after closing a case and Daniel is excited to get himself a beer and listen to Max explaining to him the details of this case as if Daniel is hearing about them for the first time.

Daniel is just rounding the corner to the glass doors of the lab when he notices Charles talking to someone. Daniel can only see the back of the man – his broad shoulders hugged tightly by a black suit jacket and long legs clad in matching trousers. The man is nodding to Charles’ words when Charles notices Daniel and says hi to him.

The man turns around and – it's Max. His hair is gelled back, the crisp white shirt is unbuttoned in the collar. Daniel can see the hollow of his throat.

Daniel has never seen Max in a full suit before. In the lab he usually wears a pair of tight jeans and his blue lab coat paired with a basic t-shirt underneath. And outside of the lab he just swaps the coat for a black bomber jacket.

The one time Max had to testify in court, he simply put on a blue shirt that Charles produced seemingly out of thin air. Daniel thought he looked good in blue and even told Max that. Max thanked him and then said that an attorney told him once he should always wear blue when testifying because it disposes the jury from his, apparently, “cold and unpleasant personality.” Daniel hopes this attorney loses every case she gets.

“Hello Daniel.” Max’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, and Daniel notices an expensive-looking watch on Max’s wrist when he lifts his hand in a little wave.

“Bones! You look smart tonight.” Daniel tears his eyes away from the way Max’s jacket hugs his waist.

“I thought I always look smart?” Max asks, tilting his head.

“No-uh. I mean yes. It's just a figure of speech. Means you look good.” Daniel has to loosen his tie a little bit. Maybe they already turned off the building's air-conditioning for the night. Probably so, Max looks a little flushed too. “Should we go somewhere fancy instead of the Founding Fathers then?”

“Oh. I am sorry Daniel, I can't go with you tonight. There's a party with the university's sponsors and Lewis made us all go,” Max says, looking something between annoyed and sad.

“Yeah, he threatened us with taking away our parking spots. Very authoritarian of him,” Charles huffs, rolling his eyes.

Now that Daniel is looking, Charles is also dressed in a suit.

“Oh. That's fine, I can survive one night without a glass of beer. Probably better for my liver, right?” Daniel chuckles and rubs his neck as Max furrows his brows.

Daniel opens his mouth to say something else, although he's not sure what exactly, but Lewis’ voice interrupts him.

“Alright, everyone ready? The car will be there in 5, we should move.” He claps his hands and moves towards the exit.

“Have fun tonight, Bones,” Daniel smiles at Max, takes one final look at his suit and turns away.

He will still go to the bar, but now he won't be listening to Max’s chatter and he definitely will be drinking something stronger than beer.

#bones au #maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #lewis hamilton #f1 fic #f1 #oohh i had so much fun with this one!!#BIG thank you to chandelier for beta-ing!!!

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avelera · 5 months ago

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A Doylist Argument for Why Alice, Daniel's first wife, is NOT Armand in "Interview with the Vampire"

So I know the IWTV fandom has more or less made up its mind about "Armand = Alice" but I have to say, I am still not convinced. In my opinion, the discussion of how Armand knew what Alice was thinking that night was because Armand was spying on Daniel and Alice as a powerful telepath, all things we've known Armand to do, not because he was somehow Daniel's first wife and at no point did Daniel, an investigative reporter, in the present day recognize that Armand was Alice, his first wife who he would presumably have photos of.

Anyway, let's start from a Doylist angle. Doylist means, "from the creator perspective, analyzing from the point of view as the work of art as something created by people outside the universe of the story, ie, Arthur Conan Doyle wrote Sherlock Holmes, not John Watson who wrote the book in-universe."

First of all, it's pretty unusual for a show to outright lie to the audience. There used to be a whole script writing rule about it and if you look closely, it's very unusual in most TV shows for a character to outright lie unless the story is a mystery and unless the fact they're lying is well supported as being something the audience should be on the lookout for. But even when characters lie on tv, there's usually a bazillion neon signposts going, "The guy twirling his mustache and cackling is a liar!" and we're usually introduced to the actual truth at some point within the story.

Ok, all of that aside because I could talk about when and how and where and the nuances of writing liars into stories and why it's best generally avoided (unless it is the entire point, because audiences tend to take what they're told by a character at face value unless they're specifically told not to, etc etc.), IWTV by contrast with most tv shows is notorious for playing with lies and truth with this in very interesting ways.

Truly, I don't think I've ever seen a show lie to the audience as much as IWTV but even then, IWTV lies in very careful ways.

So, let's examine how IWTV depicts lies and subjective truth, and why I think this makes it unlikely that "Alice = Armand", which would be an absolutely gigantic lie to drop on the audience.

We always know that lies are going to be part of the story in IWTV. There's tons of support and scaffolding to the fact that the audience should know that this is a subjective story, that facts will be misrepresented and misremembered.

For example, it was an entire plot point with a long pay off that Lestat shouldn't have been able to communicate telepathically to Louis after he was turned and it was used to highlight that we should not take anything that happens in the flashbacks as objective truth. This has been told to us over and over and over again in this story.

This is so they can avoid the cheated feeling of a, "Gotcha!" Audiences do not like to be lied to but they do like to solve mysteries. If you're going to lie to the audience, you need to give them a chance to solve it. Generally speaking you accomplish this by telling them ahead of time what they should be looking out for and that there's a mystery incoming, you don't just "Rocks fall, everyone dies," dump it on them out of nowhere then laugh that they were too stupid to figure it out. That enrages audiences.

Now, it might seem like I'm contradicting myself here. "Avelera!" You might say, "We have it well established that something fucky is going on with Daniel's memories! A big red flag was raised that Armand has messed with Daniel too in the flashback to the 70s! We know from the books that Daniel and Armand had a relationship and the show is at least teasing that they had one in the show canon too! Isn't that enough to establish that Alice = Armand is a reasonable mystery that is being hinted at within the context of the story?"

And to this I answer, sure, it's reasonable. I think the number of people who are speculating that Alice = Armand is actually a point in favor of it being true, because a good established mystery should have enough hints that people can begin to put it together before it's confirmed.

But here are my personal hang ups about why it still doesn't feel quite right to me.

We have the fact that Daniel has ruined two marriages. This is set up early. Like, super early, in episode 1, before we even see the vampires. We also establish that Daniel's two marriages are with (presumably mortal) women and that he has 2 daughters. This is set up long before the themes and ideas around the subjectiveness and falsehood of memory are introduced. Generally speaking, you don't introduce a mystery before you introduce that there is a mystery. To my eyes, we were meant to see the details of Daniel's marriage and family life as objective truths about him that inform his character before the interview starts.

Even when we do get into Louis' interview, there is a strict dichotomy to the dreamy, subjective world of Louis' story and recollection, and the sharp reality and harsh brutalist lines of the apartment in the present day.

To my eyes, the meaning is clear: All flashbacks are suspect and subjective, but scenes that take place in the modern day are objective. They are really happening. We can speculate about what things like what the decor tells us about their mindsets and the way Armand and Louis present themselves to Daniel mean, but this isn't a dream or a lie or a framing device happening here. Modern day = objectively true.

Daniel talking about his two failed marriages and his daughters is not presented within the framework of the subjective interview flashback world. These are not facts we've been asked to question, these are the objective building blocks that tell us, objectively, where Daniel is coming from and why he's the bitter old man we see instead of the bright eyed interviewer seen in the IWTV film or books.

The very AU premise of IWTV from the books is that we are in a canon divergence world where Daniel was allowed to grow old, have a family, and have a successful professional life even if he never had a successful personal life. It is the way we are objectively meant to understand his point of view and other elements like his saltiness towards the vampires. It's how we're supposed to understand him as different from his book counterpart. I think it would be cheap to then pull a "gotcha!" about those, personally.

Now, there is a mystery introduced as far as Daniel's memory, recollection, and possible falsehoods in his own understanding of his life but those are questions like: "What happened after Daniel interviewed Louis the first time?" Which is part of the broader question of, "Why are we returning to the interview now?" Which also plays a bit into Daniel's broader questions of, "Am I going to survive this interview?" which is connected to the question of, "Why did I survive the first one?"

But those questions are generally raised and addressed within the flashback to the 70s, because flashbacks, as we've established, are (within the story of the IWTV show) where these doubts about objectivity are allowed to exist.

Note, that Daniel's 2 marriages and the existence of his daughters are not discussed in the flashbacks. What is discussed is, "Why did I survive that night in the 70s?" And we learn that Daniel's memories of that time have been tampered with, there's more to the story that it appears, and he had a moment of connection with Armand that he did not recall.

"But Avelera!" You say, "Is this not further proof of Alice being Armand if we establish that Daniel doesn't have the whole story and that he and Armand had a connection that he doesn't fully remember??"

I think it is a point in favor of the theory. I think it's a point in favor of the theory being a valid one to explore, but I'm still not sold because of a few reasons.

Armand has never:

Presented himself with feminine pronouns, never cast himself in a feminine light, never associated himself with the feminine.

Furthermore, Armand has never disguised himself as a woman. Disguise is a theme in the show, Daniel talks about how people put on disguises before he finds the truth of them. But if "Alice" is a way for Armand to disguise himself in Daniel's memory, it is not a disguise that bears any resemblance to the other disguises we've seen Armand wear throughout the show. It is not a theme for Armand, it is not related to his story. Armand is many things to many people, but he's never ever associated himself with the feminine.

Armand would not need to disguise himself as a woman in Daniel's memory for Daniel to plausibly remember having a relationship with Armand, because Daniel recalls having queer experiences in the 70s. If Daniel remembered a relationship with "Andrei", I'd be more inclined to believe he's substituted himself in Daniel's memories with a mortal. Going so far as to say, "Of these 2 women Daniel told us in the objective present that he's been married to, one of them was a man who was also Armand," just seems a bridge too far in tricking the audience for no apparent reason. To me, that feels like a cheap trick on the audience.

Now, what about those weird things Louis and Armand say about Alice when they're shaming Daniel with the memory of her?

Specifically: what about Armand knowing what Alice is thinking the night she turned Daniel down?

This is my biggest point of difference with those who theorize that Alice = Armand. After all, how could Armand know what Alice was thinking that night unless he was Alice?

To put it simply, I think he knows because he was stalking Daniel that night.

I think we are meant to go, "Wait, what??" when we hear that Armand knows what Alice was thinking that night. That conversation is mean to be a red flag when we're invited to notice that Armand and Daniel have more history together than we, or Daniel!, have been led to believe.

But we also know Armand is a powerful telepath. This is a hugetheme throughout the show.

And, personally, I'm big fan of Queen of the Damned the book. It is my personal theory that IWTV the show takes place in a world where Armand and Daniel had their "Devil's Minion" whirlwind romance in the 70s, but instead of Armand turning Daniel as he requested, he wiped Daniel's memories and then let him go.

IMO, Daniel continued life thinking that he'd lost his memories of the 70s due to drug binges, and then from the 80s onward lived a relatively normal life with his two failed marriages to mortal women, his two daughters, and his award winning career. That's the divergence point.

To me, it seems much more plausible based on everything we know about Armand, that after he "freed" Daniel from their relationship and "allowed" him to live a mortal life instead of "cursing" him with vampirism, that Armand continued to stalk Daniel. Because that's what Armand does. Even in the Devil's Minion chapter of QotD, he's constantly stalking Daniel to the point where all Daniel needs to do in a particular city to have Armand swoop in to save him is think about him really hard.

So to me, what I think that line of dialogue was setting up was not "Armand = Alice" it was, "Armand continued to stalk Daniel after their relationship ended and that is the red flag you're supposed to pick up on from this dialogue, not a convoluted masquerade where Armand replaced Daniel's memories of the relationship with a woman named Alice who at first rejected Daniel but then eventually agreed to marry him."

To me, Armand = Alice just seems too convoluted. It also seems too easy to disprove given that Daniel is an investigative reporter. You're telling me he doesn't have any photos with "Alice", his first wife? You're telling me that if Armand was Alice, Daniel's first wife, that he never looked at "Rashid" or Armand and said, "Wow, you remind me of you my first wife?" Because to me, that's the sort of line you drop (in a more subtle manner) if you want people thinking about Alice = Armand but there is nothing along those lines in the show.

Now, what about the line, "You felt safer holding her hand in Paris."?

That one is a bit of a head scratcher. That one I think does lend to the possibility that "Alice" was male, that "Alice" was Armand, because Paris is discussed as more queer friendly (even though we also have scenes of Louis and Armand receiving homophobic comments while in Paris so... idk, "more comfortable" doesn't mean it was truly accepting, much like Louis felt "more comfortable" being a man of color in Paris even if racism was still rampant, but I digress).

But I didn't take it as a comment on Paris being queer-friendly (and therefore Armand = Alice) at the time when I first watched that scene.

I took Louis statement there as much more of an attack on Daniel's hatred of Paris. Paris is the city of love. America is the country where Daniel lives and works and has his identity as a hard-ass American reporter. In Paris, though, he was able to relax and be in love, far away from his work. Daniel has now grown to hate Paris because Paris was the place where he was young and in love with his first wife, a relationship that ended badly.

I felt that Louis was more calling out Daniel's changing attitudes towards Paris, rather than implying that Paris was more queer-friendly so Daniel could be openly with his lover Armand.

TL;DR: Look, I think the theory of Alice = Armand has a lot to recommend it, but I still have my objections to it. I think it's too big of a trick to pull on the audience to say that investigative reporter Daniel Molloy wouldn't recognize Armand as his first wife upon seeing him. I think it's too big of a trick to pull on the audience because the identity of Daniel's wives has never been presented as a mystery to be solved. I think it's much more plausible that they were setting up that Armand has been stalking Daniel very closely over the years, not that he insinuated himself into Daniel's life under false premises as a woman, a disguise and identity he's never used before.

I think Alice is real. I think Armand is a stalker, and that was meant to be our take away from that conversation.

#the vampire armand #iwtv #devil's minion #daniel molloy #alice is not armand #iwtv meta #vampire chronicles #this is a long post guys sorry #kudos if you make it all the way through lol

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honeybadgersgf · 10 months ago

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Domestic mornings with Daniel Ricciardo 😵‍💫😊

Thank you lots x

a/n: Hello! Sorry for the late response but here it is! I don't really do fluff so sorry if it sucks! Enjoy <3

wc: 449

warnings: suggestive tone but nothing graphic

domestic mornings with daniel ricciardo

Beep!

The incessant beeping of my alarm forces me out of the mystical escape of my dreams and into reality.

Though reality isn’t quite as bad as it used to be. Waking up in a cold bed alone, to get ready to go to work for a dead-end job.

Now I wake up in the warm embrace of my lover, his muscular arms wrapped around me. The familiar sight of his inked-up arms and the soft scratch of his facial hair against the soft skin between my shoulder and neck. I feel his strong body shift slightly and know my alarm has woken him up. I was too stuck in my head to truly enjoy his sleeping presence.

Feather-light kisses are pressed to my skin and a smile forms on my face.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, love.”

Soft silence as we both try and force ourselves to truly wake up, to leave the oasis of our bed. I shift my body over and get a good look at my boyfriend’s face.

The nose I love oh-so-much is stuck firmly into my neck and his eyes scrunched shut to hide from the invading golden rays of sunlight.

“Come on baby we have to get up.”

“Five more minutes,” Danny mutters into your neck with kisses. The scratchiness from his beard is a wonderful contrast to his soft lips.

“Hmm, I don’t know. We have a busy day ahead of us, need the earliest start possible.”

“How about I convince you, Mrs. Ricciardo?”

“We are not married!”

“Yet.” His retort is soft and barely heard.

“What was that?”

“We are not married YET.” Daniel emphasizes while looking up, meeting your gaze for the first time this morning. His hair is all over the place, a hand instinctively going to tangle in with them. His honey brown eyes bore into your soul and pure happiness floods through your body.

This is a sight you can wake up to every morning.

“I seem to be missing a couple of rings, Danny. We aren’t even engaged.”

“I can fix that.”

“You can but that means we have to get out of bed.”

Pause. He seems to be processing what you have said, a moment passes before he buries his face back into your neck.

“Who needs rings anyway? So outdated!”

“Daniel Joseph Ricciardo! You cannot propose to me in bed AND without a ring!”

“Fine no proposals, I’ll just have to show my devotion to you a different way.” Your boyfriend’s muscular frame moves down the bed, lips forging a path down your warm skin.

Yes you think, you could spend every morning like this. Fuck being a few minutes behind schedule.

#f1 #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you

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maxwell-grant · 5 months ago

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do you have any favorite batman henchmen?

I put a lot of stock into how a Batman work tackles the resident henchmen and assistants and organization surrounding any specific Batrogue and how those intersect with each other so yes, absolutely I have Bat-henchman opinions, and favorites per villain. I'm gonna about pick about one or two among my favorites and name a few honorable mentions, with one exception and that's Rhino, Scarface's muscle. I know he's sort of a package deal with Mugsy, and Mugsy's pretty good too, but Rhino's the one I love.

I have a huge amount of fondness for Rhino and Rhino specifically because of his showing in "Read my Lips", as one of my favorite musical pieces for the series is the leitmotif that plays specifically for Rhino's moments in the opening heist and his brawl with Batman in the climax, and frankly he earns a top spot for me solely on the basis that he has his own theme and it's a banger on top of that. Scarface is exactly the kind of Bat-villain you want funny stereotypical cartoon gangsters attached to, and the big dumb grunt archetype is always more fun when paired with a proportionally much smaller partner or boss. And in Rhino's case, not only is he a titanically strong wall of muscle taking orders from a hand-held puppet dressed like a gangster, but cowering in fear when said puppet gets angry at him and relieved when reminded that he's too stupid to betray da boss. They made a lot with very little out of a bit character and it makes me love the episode so much more, and again, he has his own theme song and it opens the episode even, pretty hard to top that.

Penguin: My favorite overall has usually been Lark, specifically the version of her that was introduced in Tony Daniel's run. Like with Rhino and Scarface, the tiny funny-looking Oswald Cobblepot having a tall, intimidating lady chaffeur following him around makes for good contrast, and although I didn't like "Bullies" much at all, I really liked that scene of them being on friendly terms with each other, how much Penguin trusts her with his life and what he does. I like she is not abiding by any kind of formal dress code, like everyone else who tends to work at the Lounge, she's got almost like a punk thing that really contrasts with Oswald's own outfits and I always liked that, her individuality.

A more recent favorite would be Lili Kwan from Penguin: One Bad Day, someone who is far more marginalized than Oswald, and someone who was marginalized and pushed aside BY Oswald, but who joins up with him because he is the best lesser evil she is going to get and because they have enough in common that he can relate to her and respect her and ensure she is respected, but she pointedly does not mince words around him and does not entertain Oswald's delusions and self-loathing. She kinda demands Oswald to be the better class of criminal he paints himself as, to learn from his mistakes and earn having her by his side because "a king can't have illusions", and that's an incredibly interesting dynamic to me, this person with a vision of what Penguin and his empire should be like and in a position to have Penguin listen to her about it, not just muscle by his side but a voice in his ear pushing him to get his head in the game, be someone who deserves the loyalty he has from the underprivileged and the outcasts he claims to be a part of.

Honorable mentions would be the Red Triangle Gang from Batman Returns. I don't think they would really belong in any other version of the Penguin, and I have some very mixed feelings on Returns still, but I like the history they have with this Oswald and I like them in the movie proper, my favorite is the Poodle Lady for no real reason. I would also name the Kabuki Twins from The Batman cartoon, and Mr Decondor from The Batman Audio Adventures.

Joker: I gotta go with Bob the Goon, the Number One Guy. He is not even called Bob the Goon in the movie, he's just become so emblematic a figure for goons everywhere that he earns that name, Bob the Goon. See, I actually don't think the Joker should employ clowns in his gang, I think if you have more than one clown going around doing crimes, then they're not that special individually, I don't see the Joker surrounding himself with people who look or act even half as outlandish as himself, and that’s part of why Bob works for me, this comically ordinary schlub grunt who nevertheless endears himself to our sympathies for putting up with the Joker, being endlessly loyal to Napier before and after his accident. We like him in no small part because the Joker clearly likes this guy as much as he's capable of liking anyone on the planet, which is why it actually lands when the Joker guns him down just to vent. Rest in peace Bob, an example to low-lives everywhere.

If I had to name another favorite, and one I think works better on a reocurring basis, it would be Charlie Charleyhorse, from The Batman Audio Adventures. Charleyhorse has the mannerisms of a smooth-talking wise guy and is the guy who handles the day-to-day businesses of the Joker, sweet-talking recruits and negotiating deals and convincing rookies to eat poison and even hosting his broadcasts, and in contrast to the other villain sidekicks in the show who provide comedic contrast he is this very efficient, very charming and dangerous man, fully cognizant of the cruelty he's assisting and the man he works for. To me he feels like a very organic way of establishing how much more dangerous the Joker is compared to the other villains, that he runs his disorganized crime with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, that behind all the chaos and mayhem there is an unfathomably brilliant mind at work and a smart, affable businessman to act as a conduit between that mind and the city, as if the Joker plucked the ghost of Jack Napier from his soul and found a sweet deal that lets them both happily exist.

Honorable mentions would be Prank, from The Batman cartoon. I think Joker gunning for his own Robin is an idea with legs (Harley never really counted in that regard), I really liked his design, a perfect combination of Robin aesthetics with a clown/jester motif, and I thought he had one of the more interesting set-ups for a "Joker corrupts people into extensions of him" story, definitely one of the better Joker episodes in that show. Other honorable mentions would be Jackanapes and Captain Clown from TAS, because the Joker getting unreasonably attached to a horrible giant clown android is a pretty funny concept to me.

Riddler: God, what a perfect character Miss Tuesday is. Pairing up the self-obsessed artist of crime with the harshest critic of all, the disinterested judgemental teenager, is such a perfect combo and it does so much to breathe new life into a very classic take on Riddler. The fact that she regularly stays in touch and coordinates stuff with other villain interns is amazing and part of the incredible worldbuilding The Batman Audio Adventures has in general. Miss Tuesday is this physical embodiment of ennui to deflate his cartwheeling histerics, manifesting every bit of self-awareness that the Riddler completely ignores, annoying him just as much as he annoys everyone else (her included).

It's punctuated by her being casually murderous to an extent that even surprises him, and the fact that she is just as smart as he is, so by the standards he lives his life by, he can't brush her off as another small-minded knuckle-dragging ignoramus like he does with everyone else, no, he can't tell himself that she simply doesn't understand what he is doing. She does understand him, she is just not that impressed by him, and Eddie will simply have to roll with the barbs and work harder if he is to prove himself. She is the closest The Riddler has to a conscience and thus her job is not to push him towards any kind of moral self-improvement or an approach to his work that doesn't involve murder and terrorism, but to dunk cold water on his head and call him cringe when he gets in too deep or for doing this instead of, like, making money off this crap or something.

The other candidate would be the Riddler's Followers from The Batman. They're not a concept I think would work for a more traditional version of The Riddler, but God they work SO well for that movie and that version of him, marking Eddie Nigma's transition from malajusted murderer into not just a supervillain with a city-destroying plot, not just the rise of supervillains as a thing Gotham is gonna have to deal with forever, but as a sickness aimed at the heart of the city, and a sickness that Batman is indirectly responsible for and that he must owe up to. I really like how The Riddler: Year One elaborates on them with "He doesn't trust people. But numbers never lie." His "henchmen" are numbers, numbers on a screen he never has to actually interact with, but can still send on to be proxies of him, embodiments of how much bigger this is than anything Batman could have imagined it being.

Honorable mentions would be the classic duo of Query and Echo, and much like Bob, we gotta bring up his henchgirl Molly from the Batman 66 pilot two-parter, who tragically died by falling into the Batcave's nuclear reactor. "What a way to go-go".

Two-Face: It's common for Two-Face to have twin sets of named thugs but I can't say any of them have ever been particularly memorable to me, but one that does stick out to me is Benny from Long Shadows. I'm of the opinion that if any Batman villain should be establishing a working relationship with a henchman/assistant, if any Batman villain really needs to be depicted putting in the work as far as convincing people to work for him, it should be Two-Face, the former widely-beloved District Attorney/politician turned crimelord who somehow stays a dominant player in the Gotham underworld despite everything stacked against him (his face, his reputation, his past being public record, the coin-based decisions, etc). I think Two-Face needs to be some degree of charismatic and conversational and convincing, he's someone with more tangential history in this world than the other villains and should be willing and able to engage with people at any level, even if, and especially if, he's going to betray or save them at the flip of a coin, and the closest anyone's ever come to capturing that for me has been Benny, this guy who's willing to question Two-Face's decisions and is smart and sensible and generally pleasant enough that Two-Face lets him do it (with some limits, of course) and lets him in on what he's planning. Being drawn by Mark Bagley, who can convey a lot of expression and personality on any character, is definitely a bonus.

Scarecrow: Not so much of a henchmen since this was technically a villain team-up, but Scream Queen as she was featured in that Brave and the Bold segment has literally nothing in common with comics Scream Queen as debuted in Scare Tactics to the point she is a new character in every way. I like comics Scream Queen quite a lot, and I wouldn't want her to be any kind of underling to Scarecrow, but BATB Scream Queen is a very cool design and concept and in general I think Scarecrow could stand to have some cool and inventive henchmen, I wouldn't be opposed to seeing BATB Scream Queen turn up again so long as she had a different name. I'm also extremely partial to the Strawmen and the idea of him employing former students and offering them teaching exercises mid-crime.

Bane: There's really only one form of Bane henchmen that matter and it's Bird, Zombie and Trogg, the Fabulous Five to his Doc Savage (I always felt like there could be two more members to actually make them five, I know it doesn't have to be an exact reference but). I like them as they are in regular canon but my favorite depiction of them so far has been in the Batman 66 comic by Jeff Parker, which retrofits Bane to fit the 66 aesthetic and tone by further emphasizing his lucha motif, and having his Fabulous Three all dress up in distinct masks of their own referencing existing iconic luchadore characters.

Black Mask: I think the False Face Society is one of the more interesting parts of Black Mask's concept and it really doesn't come up enough, and when it does it gets folded into just being a name for his gangster lackeys instead of the weird cult aspect it acquired when it was folded into his character, I'd like to see that stuff get folded back in.

Hugo Strange: Honestly I love all of Hugo's varied forms of henchmen over the years, all of them have their place in the grand tapestry of his designs (I'm not too big on Sanjay from Batman and the Monster Men, there is stuff to like about their dynamic but I don't think the pulp racial manservant is a thing deserving of the charming throwback treatment). The gangsters from his debut, the androids/mannequins, Night Scourge, the TYGER guards/troopers from Arkham City, the mind-controlled villains and inmates from his Deathstroke arc, and of course the Monster Men. I do prefer the horrific body horror kaijus from Night of the Monster Men, but I also like the mutated giants, especially when they dress up in oversized trenchcoats and slouch hats.

There are a few others but I'm lastly gonna say Mr.Freeze and his polar bears Notchka and Shaka, from Batman and Mr.Freeze: Subzero. I'm not opposed to Mr.Freeze having regular henchmen, or even ice-themed henchmen like in Batman and Robin, there are ways to have it make sense, but the polar bears I think have this sort of almost innocent fairytale logic to them that just fits Mr.Freeze and his imagery a lot better, abstract guardians of the concept of the arctic that Mr.Freeze claims dominion over. Even at their most benign, you can't extricate human henchmen from the inherent brutality of their profession, but when it's trained animals defending a master, it's easier to find innocence and sympathy, traits that fit well with Mr.Freeze. If there's anything in that movie I remember, it's the bittersweet ending where they walk off into a blizzard together, his sole two companions into this new life he's cursed with.

Does it really make any sense for Mr.Freeze's established skillset and character for him to have a duo of trained polar bears on call to do crimes with, the way Penguin and Catwoman have their own trained animals? No. Is it corny? Arguably yes. Do I think it's cool? Is it a cool image? Very much so, and when it comes to Batman, that tends to be the final word in things.

#replies tag #batman #comic books #superheroes #dc comics #dc #joker #penguin #the penguin #riddler #miss tuesday #mr freeze #two-face #scarecrow #hugo strange #bane

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nordax · 4 days ago

Text

burning, yearning need to bleed

baby's first iwtv fic, let's fucking go

armand/daniel, mirror sex, a hand job, biting, a lot of blood and a healthy side of masochism. wc: 4k

ao3

inspired by the gorgeous, incredible, breathtaking art by the lovely @ladyofthecreeddraws

It starts, like it often does, with three simple, little words. I wanna see.

And Daniel is morbidly curious in every aspect of his life, both personal and professional, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that he wants to watch Armand sink his fangs into his neck and feed from him. He’s always following so closely, so intensely, as Armand slices his own wrist open with his claws, watches the blood rush to the surface and out of the wound, down along his skin, and into Daniel’s waiting mouth, and Armand attributed that to addiction, or to Daniel’s fascination with tearing things open and seeing how they work, pulling secrets free through clenched teeth. Personally and professionally.

And he whispers those words into Armand’s curls, and he looks at Armand with those pretty eyes, pupils blown wide, high on the vampire’s blood, and begs to see.

Armand offers to bite into Daniel’s wrist so that he may see, or his thigh, and the boy refuses point blank, says it won’t be the same, that it won’t be right. He’s erratic, eyes wild, grabbing two handfuls of Armand’s shirt and pulling him close, impossibly close, clinging to him, hiding his face in the brook of Armand’s neck. Bites at him, with his dull human teeth, for good measure. I need to see.

So, here they are, with Daniel perched on Armand’s lap, his back flush to Armand’s chest, and they’re sitting on an armchair in front of a large, ornate mirror. Daniel had asked if Armand bought it just for this occasion and Armand scoffed, mumbled something about the vastness of his antique collection, and they both know he procured it specifically for this, for Daniel.

Daniel is all nervous energy, amped up from his usual restlessness, fidgeting and squirming in Armand’s lap. They look good, Armand thinks as he watches their reflection. He is still fully clothed, in his blazer and slacks, hair neat and styled, and Daniel is naked, hair still tousled from sleep, from when Armand practically dragged him out of bed for this. Daniel’s legs are on either side of Armand’s, spread open and displaying his soft cock, and it’s a pretty sight, the stark contrast of them like this, and made even prettier by Daniel seeing himself much like Armand sees him, stripped bare and so ready to be told what to do, bathed in the dim golden shine of the bedroom lights.

“Are you going to be good?” Armand asks, lips brushing against the shell of Daniel’s ear. Daniel shivers with it, with excitement and desire and curiosity. Armand resists the urge to touch, keeping his hands still on the armrests, seemingly relaxed, as if unaffected by the sight in the mirror, on his lap, all around him. Daniel knows him well by now, would notice the effort in keeping himself from touching Daniel, if he wasn’t so riled up, so deep in his own head.

“Yes”, Daniel finally says, breathes it out like a promise, emphasizes it by nodding enthusiastically. And usually he’s very good, even without being explicitly asked, and Armand has never been particularly good at denying Daniel anything he wants. This, though? For this, he might need to be taught a lesson in patience first.

“What do you want, beloved?” Armand asks, nosing along Daniel’s hairline behind his ear and down the back of his neck. Daniel tries to arch into it, to turn his head and offer the side of his neck closer to Armand’s mouth, and that’s not how good boys behave, trying to shortcut straight to the reward. Armand dances his fingers up along Daniel’s arm and across his shoulder, up to the base of his neck, brushing his hand through the messy curls and grabbing a handful, pulling down hard. A little too hard, if he’s honest with himself, but the sensation seems to go straight to Daniel’s dick, and he has no way to hide it from Armand here, like this.

“I do believe I asked you a question”, Armand says, and he has Daniel’s head tilted back to an uncomfortable angle, pulled down against his shoulder, throat open and exposed, and yet there are no complaints in the boy’s mind, just the calming static of pain, of Armand.

“I want to see”, Daniel whispers, eyes rolling back in his head as Armand tugs on his hair once more before releasing him. There’s a faint blush on Daniel’s cheeks, spilling down his neck and chest, and his cock is already filling out. Armand watches him study their reflection, tilting his head like it will somehow make a difference in the image in front of him.

“Look at you”, Armand starts, bringing his hands to both sides of Daniel’s neck, holding his head still, thumbs rubbing circles behind his ears. He feels the way the boy’s whole body shivers, how he goes a little breathless and his cock jumps at the thought of Armand’s long, slender fingers wrapping around his throat, squeezing, holding his life in his hands. “So fucking desperate, you’re already hard. Could you cum like this, for me, without ever having your pretty little cock touched?”

Daniel eats up his words like he’s starving, forced to watch their reflection, and his eyes are dark, hungry, darting around until they meet Armand’s. He looks so gorgeous, so ready to be ruined in Armand’s hands, and please, Armand, pleasepleaseplease is echoing in his head.

“Use your words, beloved”, Armand purrs, lips ghosting over Daniel’s ear, sucking at the bottom of his earlobe and Daniel whines, flexes his hands where they’re sitting neatly atop his thighs, and he’s being so good, not touching himself even when that wasn’t specifically asked of him. Maybe there is hope, then, that he will behave well enough for his rewards, and learn this little lesson in patience. A little mean, perhaps, but he knows how Daniel enjoys that, letting Armand unravel him and then put the pieces back together, to carve open his chest over and over again, make himself a home there, nestled between his fourth and fifth ribs, mirroring his heart.

“I want to watch you feed from me”, Daniel says, words coming out slowly, deliberate. Like he knows the weight of them, wants to watch them sink into Armand. His eyes are intense, determined where they meet Armand’s again through the mirror, and he nods, slides his fingers down along Daniel’s throat, finds the point where he usually bites, below his ear, near his jugular vein. Armand presses down with one single claw, lets it dig into the skin but doesn’t break it, and goosebumps spread all around it, like ripples in water after a stone is tossed in. With his other arm, Armand braces the boy against himself, wraps it tightly around him.

“Here?” he asks, circling the spot and Daniel lets out a breathless moan, turns his head to give Armand better access, and Armand slides his hand around to cup his jaw, squeezing until he can feel Daniel’s teeth through the flesh of his cheeks where they dig in, and Daniel moans with it, arching his back and clawing at the arm anchoring him against Armand. “Be good for me, beloved.”

It’s not a suggestion, or a plea. It’s an order.

Or what? Daniel thinks as Armand’s hand finally slips from his jaw, settles back around his throat. His thoughts are so loud, with that lopsided smile and cocked eyebrow, head tilted again, that Armand doesn’t need the mind gift to figure out that the boy is asking, begging for trouble. Or punishment.

“Out loud, please”, Armand reminds him. “I want to hear from you tonight.” Want to witness you fall apart, just for me. Because of me.

Daniel nods slowly, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with arousal, with lust, and takes a few deep breaths. Armand revels in the feeling of the muscles of his throat working against his palm, the flex of tendons under his hand, the steady stream of blood pumping right underneath his fingertips.

He could tear open the boy’s throat with his claws and play in all of the blood that spills out of him, paint a portrait of him with it, of them, all over the floor and the walls; paint a mural of their past all across the ceiling, and it still wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t soothe the ache that’s settled somewhere far too deep in his bones. He could pour the blood back in the boy, clean up his wounds and heal them, only to sink his fangs into the boy’s neck to drain him again, and Daniel would thank him, would appreciate that, because he loves the sight of his blood running down the sides of Armand’s mouth and down the column of his throat, and Armand has never been a messy eater, but for Daniel? Anything. Everything.

Sometimes, he thinks, it would be easier to just kill the boy and be done with it. Tear out his still beating heart, his bleeding heart, as if Daniel wouldn’t give it to him willingly, and watch the light drain from his eyes. Watch him down in his own blood, rather than watch him hungrily lick the drops of Armand’s blood from his skin, watch him smile with his teeth stained red and his pupils blown wide, and kiss him and lick the taste of his blood from the boy’s mouth.

And Armand opens his mouth and lets his fangs drop, and Daniel shivers, shakes with it, hands squeezed tightly around the arm that’s tethering him to Armand, to this moment, and his eyes are fixated on Armand in their reflection. On his mouth, on his fangs, and how the tips of them shine in the low light, almost like how sunlight reflects off of water, and the intensity of Daniel’s gaze borders on too much. His thoughts, too, the desperate thrum of need, and the overwhelming idea that Armand looks beautiful like this, that he looks beautiful with his jaw unhinged and fangs out.

“Please”, Daniel says, begs, pleads, fingers digging into Armand’s skin where he’s holding on impossibly tight, and not for the first time, Armand wishes Daniel possessed the strength to bruise him. His touch burns, feels like a brand, and it never stays long enough to settle the itch under his skin. “Armand, I need-”

The words die in Daniel’s throat as he lets Armand tilt his head back and to the side, and then his fangs are scraping against his skin, teasing, tickling. Daniel is practically vibrating in his lap, and somewhere in the back of Armand’s mind, there’s a faint echo of patience, of teaching a lesson, and then he finds the spot he dug his claw into earlier and bites, letting just the tips of his fangs pierce the boy’s skin and he forgets everything except the hitch in Daniel’s breath, the heady scent of arousal hanging heavy in the air, and the sweet taste of blood rushing into his mouth, the tinge of Daniel’s sweat.

It’s a superficial wound, just a tease, and when he pulls away, Daniel whines.

“How does it feel?” Armand asks, lifting his eyes to meet Daniel’s in the mirror. “Tell me, Daniel.”

And he leans down again, tongue darting out to lick at the little droplets of blood rapidly drying on Daniel’s skin. Daniel arches into the touch and hisses as Armand sucks on the marks on his skin, trying to coax more blood to the surface, but the wound is too shallow, and yet the little noises Daniel makes are far more satisfying than any blood could ever be.

“It stings, a little”, Daniel says finally and takes in a deep breath, all stuttery on the inhale. “Doesn’t hurt though. Tickles.”

Armand hums, and Daniel makes a choked sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and then Armand slots his fangs into the wounds again and Daniel’s whole body tenses up. Armand bites down slowly, revels in the way Daniel’s pulse picks up, in the warmth radiating from his body and the twitch of his fingers on his arm, the wetness seeping into his slacks from Daniel’s leaking cock. His fangs sink into the boy’s neck inch by inch, and it’s agonizing and it’s euphoric; the slow sink into Daniel, the warmth flooding into his mouth and trailing down the sides of his mouth, down along Daniel’s skin because he’s still hovering over him instead of biting down fully, and the waver in Daniel’s voice makes his head spin a little.

“Burns, like… Like how they always talk about that hot, white flash of pain in books and movies, yeah? Feels fucking good. And the stretch, fuck, Armand.”

The rest of Daniel’s words turn into a garbled moan as Armand’s mouth finally slots against his skin, and he fits there perfectly, the curve of his lips against Daniel’s neck, and he drives his fangs as deep as they’ll go, and Daniel is panting, cursing and pleading, and Armand sucks hard, fills his mouth with blood and then he has to pull back again, he has to, he needs to see.

Daniel looks defiled. Mesmerizing. Debauched. Gorgeous.

He’s flushed all over, the blush spilling down his neck and chest, reaching all the way up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his lower lip is swollen and red, like he’s been biting on it. There are two less than neat puncture wounds on his neck, and the skin around them is a blotchy red, from Armand’s mouth, and there’s blood trailing down, down along his neck and pooling in the little dip above his collarbone and threatening to spill over. He’s squeezing onto Armand’s arm with his knuckles white, and his cock is beautifully hard and leaking precum between his legs, curved up towards his stomach.

Armand swallows, finally, and meets Daniel’s eyes through the mirror.

“How do you feel, beloved?” he asks, dipping his fingers in the blood pooling on Daniel’s collarbone and sending it pouring down further, over his chest and down his stomach. The wound on his neck is still bleeding, slowly but steadily.

“Good”, Daniel manages, and his eyes keep drifting from Armand’s to his own neck, and he would need to crane his neck and turn his head to see properly, but yet he’s sitting perfectly still, in the position Armand arranged him into. Armand drags his hand down Daniel’s front, smearing the blood as he goes, and somewhere between cupping his pec and circling his navel before settling on the curve where his thigh meets his groin, Daniel stops breathing. He holds his breath as Armand paints the blood across his skin, down to his inner thigh, tracing along where his femoral artery lies under his skin.

“Look at you”, Armand says, hand coming up to wrap around Daniel’s dick, and the noise Daniel makes should be recorded, should be pressed into a vinyl so that he might keep it forever, and listen to it over and over again. “What a gorgeous mess.”

He gives Daniel a few slow strokes, fingers wrapped too loose around him, and the remnants of blood mix into the precum leaking steadily from the head of Daniel’s cock. A sloppy, wet mess that is threatening to ruin one of Armand’s favorite pair of trousers, and he could command Daniel to stand up, to clean up the mess he’s made, to get down on his knees and lick Armand clean, and he would obey happily, but something here feels too precarious, too precious to disturb.

Perhaps the way Daniel can’t seem to catch his breath, how he’s desperately rutting into Armand’s hand and still clinging to the arm Armand has draped around his torso, holding him tightly in place. Or the scent of his blood, trickling down his body, and the sight of them, the shine in Daniel’s eyes in the mirror, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and it’s too much, it’s entirely too much, Daniel’s spread legs and his pretty cock in Armand’s hand, his blood everywhere around them, on them. Too much, and not enough. Never enough.

Daniel whines at the loss as Armand pulls his hand away, and then pries Daniel’s fingers off of his other arm. He places his free hands on Daniel’s hips, and wants to squeeze, to push his claws into the soft flesh and tear him apart, pulling him into pieces.

“Up”, he says instead, and his voice sounds uncertain, hoarse even to his own ears. Daniel scrambles off his lap, knees a little unsteady for a moment. “Towards the mirror.”

And Daniel is good, so good, and he steps closer and closer and Armand follows, eyes never leaving their reflection. There’s something intoxicating about watching himself approach Daniel, a predator stalking up to its willing victim, the sacrificial lamb holding a knife to its own throat.

Armand presses up against Daniel, an arm’s length from the mirror and takes Daniel’s hands in his, places them against the glass. And if there’s a tremor in his hands as he glides them back down along Daniel’s arms before releasing him, neither one of them say anything about it.

“Spread your legs for me, beloved”, he says and Daniel nods, scoots his feet apart until Armand hums in approval. He tears his eyes away from their reflection only to be able to study Daniel. This close, he can see the bruise forming right under the bite mark on Daniel’s neck, and the knowledge of that buzzes pleasantly under his skin. He follows the freckles and marks on Daniel’s skin down along his back to the soft curve of his ass, finds his hands on Daniel’s hips again, pulling him closer, impossibly close.

He nuzzles along Daniel’s hairline at his neck, behind his ear, licks at his skin to taste his sweat and trails down, down, down to the wound. It’s no longer bleeding but it’s still open, raw and red and abused, and there’s never been much self-restraint for Armand when it concerns Daniel.

Please, Armand. I need it, do it.

Daniel looks pained, almost, as he silently begs for Armand and his brow is furrowed in a way that always spells out trouble in one form or another, and he’s biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, and maybe that’s what he’s aiming for, maybe that’s what he needs.

“Out loud, please”, Armand whispers, lips ghosting against Daniel’s skin, and there’s a pause, and a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes Armand can’t quite figure out before he swallows and takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“Armand. Bite me.”

And maybe he meant it as a slight, meant to have some bite to it, but it comes out more like a prayer.

“Look at me, beloved.”

Daniel’s eyes open just in time to see Armand’s fangs sink into his skin again, slow and intentional, letting blood rush to the surface and spill down Daniel’s neck before his mouth closes over the wound and he settles there, pressing his body against Daniel’s, one hand still in a bruising grip on his hip while he wraps the other one around Daniel’s dick, squeezing hard at the base. Daniel’s body is hot against Armand, and he can feel the warmth even through his clothes, and Daniel whines and begs, sweaty hands slipping on the glass of the mirror but he keeps his position, keeps his eyes open, keeps watching Armand feed from him.

How does it feel? Tell me.

Silence follows, and it takes a moment, an eternity for Daniel to get his mouth working, and Armand keeps his fangs embedded in Daniel’s neck. It’s inefficient, and there’s a dull ache in the joint of his jaw, but the pleasure radiating from every inch, every iota of Daniel is enough to keep him like this for however long he must. Daniel opens his mouth and nothing comes out, and he closes it again with a frustrated sigh. Armand strokes his cock languidly, gathering the precum pearling at the tip and spreading it all over before slotting the edge of his claw into the slit at the tip, and Daniel’s hips buck up into it, involuntarily.

“Fuck”, he breathes out and Armand’s hand is back at the base of his cock. “Hurts, fucking… Feels good. The pain feels distant, like it’s an old wound or a scar that aches when the weather gets bad. Radiates through my whole body, and it’s hard to tell where it stops and you start. Feels like if you move, I’ll cum.”

Armand hums against Daniel’s skin, and his cock jumps in Armand’s hand.

My hand, or my mouth?

Daniel chokes out a laugh, and it jostles Armand just a little, and he can feel his fangs tearing further into the boy’s skin, into his flesh. He gives Daniel’s cock a few strokes, faster and tighter this time, and it’s awkward angle but Daniel’s knees almost buckle under him, and Armand is sure his fingerprints are etched into the boy’s hip by now.

“Either. Both. Armand, please, I need… you”, Daniel says, and there’s an edge of despair in his voice that sinks deep into Armand, settles somewhere near the pleasure coiling tight at the bottom of his stomach, licking up the base of his spine.

And he gives the base of Daniel’s cock one more squeeze before letting go, earning him a high whine, and he brings his hand up, watching as realization dawns on Daniel, and his eyes go wide and his pupils are blown so wide he looks like he’s experiencing the best high of his life, and then Armand dislodges his mouth from Daniel’s neck and spits into his own hand, trailing blood and drool down Daniel’s shoulder as he does so.

Daniel’s legs are trembling as Armand’s hand wraps around his dick again, and he sets a slow pace. It’s messy and sloppy, and not quite what Daniel likes, but he still unravels beautifully in Armand’s hands, breath catching in his throat as Armand’s tongue darts out to lick at his neck again, gathering up the blood and swallowing what he can, laying his tongue flat against Daniel’s skin and licking long stripes along his jawline and back down, and when he twists his wrist and rubs his thumb over the slit of Daniel’s dick, the tip of his tongue circles the puncture wound, dips in, and Daniel comes with Armand’s name dying on his lips.

Armand holds him up even as his knees buckle, and strokes him slowly through his orgasm, following the heave of his chest through the mirror as Daniel tries desperately not to float away. His cum paints the mirror, and slides down along it, and absentmindedly Armand wonders if Daniel would allow him to take photographs of him like this.

“Was I good?” Daniel slurs, head lolling back against Armand’s shoulder, a wide, spent smile on his face. Armand hums, and Daniel lets himself be turned in Armand’s arms, hides his face instinctively against the hollow of Armand’s throat, hands squeezing into fists in Armand’s coat.

“Yes, Daniel, you were very good”, Armand muses and takes a tentative step backwards, towards the bed on the other end of the room. Daniel follows on unsteady feet, but follows nonetheless.

Daniel lets himself be laid down on the bed, and there’s a glazed shine in his eyes, and his hands keep drifting up to poke and prod at the wound on his neck as Armand undresses, letting his clothes fall in a pile to the floor, they’re mostly ruined anyway. He takes a towel from the bedside table, and hauls Daniel into his arms, presses the cloth to his neck. Daniel hisses and tries to pull away, but his body is loose and pliable and Armand curls around him, tucks Daniel’s head under his chin and wraps his limbs tightly around him. He tries not to dwell on how strenuous all of this will be to clean later, and rather on the warmth of Daniel against him, the slight shiver in his limbs and the calming static of pain, of Armand in his head.

“Rest”, he whispers into the messy curls on Daniel’s head.

#writing adventures #mine #i had fun with this tbh despite struggling A LOT occasionally lmao #anyway everyone go look at ttf's art immediately

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