Read on AO3 → https://archiveofourown.org/works/88383526
by Wayward_Rhea
This is your typical accidental love story, in which you end up falling for the last person you thought you would. Daniel Blake, newly elected mayor Fisk's communications worker. There's some manipulation, flirting, fluff, angst, comfort, and ultimately falling in love.
Words: 1439, Chapters: 1/14, Language: English
Fandoms: Daredevil (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: F/M
Characters: Daniel Blake (Marvel), BB Urich (Marvel)
Going to a tag just to see it being held up by one singular person feels like that one episode of SpongeBob where he accidentally ends up in Rock Bottom
Daniel Eats Watermelon
Starring: Mayor Daniel Blake and His Right-Hand Ma'am
Summary: RHM teaches Daniel the proper way to eat a watermelon.
Contains: Banter, melons, an introduction to local customs.
Words: 1k
"Do you think my melons are nice?"
You look up from your desk to find the chief of police giving you a shit-eating grin with a watermelon under each arm.
"No way those are natural," you joke, saving and closing your document. "Definitely had some work done."
"How dare you," Lee scoffs, shifting the weight of the melons before heading for the kitchen. "These are totally organic."
You spot Daniel out of the corner of your eye, leaning over the desk in his office so he can see and hear what's going on.
"You're not gonna report us to HR for this, are you?" you wink.
Daniel grins and gets up, coming to lean against his doorframe. Lee reappears, melon-less, and plops into the chair on the other side of your desk. He leans back, putting his hands behind his head and getting comfortable.
"The Johnsons had a cow out, I wrangled her back in and they thanked me with watermelon."
"Ooooh." You're salivating already. The Johnsons grow the best melons you've ever tasted. "You ever had a real watermelon, Daniel Blake?"
"Eh," Daniel shrugs. "Ma buys the cut kind in the plastic boxes at the grocery store, sometimes."
"No, then," you rule.
Lee shakes his head in disappointment, then rises from his chair and returns to the kitchen. The sound of clinking silverware is followed by a wet slicing sound. He's choppin' this thing up so Daniel can experience yet another wonderful new thing about his new home.
You rise and tilt your head toward the kitchen, and Daniel follows you in. Lee's sliced most of it into wedges already, with the rind still on. You grab an ancient Tupperware bowl to hold it.
"It's got seeds in it," Daniel observes.
You and Lee share a look that says this fuckin' city boy.
The bowl fills quickly, so you put the lid on and stick it in the fridge before grabbing another. This will be the eatin' bowl.
Lee's just finished slicing when his cell rings. He groans, wipes his hands on a dish towel, and checks the screen.
"It's the wife," he sighs. "Go on without me."
"Ask her if she wants the other one," you suggest.
"Uh, I don't wanna die today," he snarks. "Thanks, though!"
Due to an unfortunate incident involving a vodka-soaked watermelon before she became a responsible and loving mother, Leah doesn't allow watermelon - or anything that smells like it - inside her house. Lee discovered this the hard way, after someone advised him that a watermelon-scented candle would be a sweet anniversary gift. He never brought home anything resembling watermelon again, and also never spoke badly of someone's banana pudding.
"Hi, honey," Lee says sweetly, answering and leaving the room… lest she detect the presence of watermelon over the phone.
"Grab that," you request, pointing to the half-filled bowl of watermelon slices. You pick up the salt shaker and a roll of paper towels, and lead the way to the back door.
Once seated at the little table on the porch, you reach for a slice. Daniel does, too. He goes in for a bite, but stops to stare in confusion as you sprinkle salt on yours.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Trust me," you wink, handing him the shaker.
He doesn't take it. You sigh.
"Daniel," you begin seriously. "How many times do we have to argue over you trying new things, which you end up loving, before you just trust me the first time?"
"It's salt, though," he wrinkles his nose. "On fruit."
"Take a bite of yours," you order.
He stares suspiciously for a few seconds, then does. He nibbles off the corner of his slice, and chews, and swallows.
"Now take a bite of mine," you offer, holding out your melon and offering him that perfect pointy first bite. Again, he hesitates, but you can wait him out. A few seconds later, he sighs in defeat and leans forward for a bite. He leans back in his chair and chews like he's unimpressed… and then his eyes light up.
"Told you so," you grin, handing him the salt shaker.
He starts to dump salt on his own slice, but you catch his wrist in the air.
"Don't overdo it," you gently guide him. "Just a little bit, to bring out the flavor."
He nods in understanding, and you let him go. He makes one more light pass over his slice and puts the salt shaker down. And then he takes a big enthusiastic bite of his extra-salty watermelon. You take a bite of yours, too.
"Careful," you warn, remembering why you're outside. "There's seeds in it."
"What am I supposed to do with them?" he asks.
You smirk while you get one ready for launch… and then you blow, and your watermelon seed flies from between your lips and hits Daniel in the chest. He looks down at the spot where it hit, which he probably didn't even feel, and then back up at you with a look of horror on his face.
"Why do you think we're outside?" you smirk.
Daniel processes this new information and strange custom for a moment, and then a grin grows on his face. Relief spreads through you. You definitely thought twice before spitting a seed at your mayor. Thankfully, he's fun and cool and into learning local customs. Even if it sometimes takes a little work.
The door opens, and Lee appears. He drops into a free chair and grabs a slice of watermelon and the shaker.
"You convince him to salt it yet?" Lee grins.
"He barely put up a fight," you laugh.
Daniel turns redder than the watermelon slice he's trying to hide his face behind.
summary: happy birthday wheels-of-despair! | It’s your first birthday in your new place and Daniel makes use of your little green kitchen!
warnings: not that I know of!
notes: Ignore the fact that you haven’t met Ole Danny Boy yet. You’ll meet him in August lmao. But We’ve had a birthday with Mac already— had to get ya one with your boy! Happy birthday, Wheels!
The smell of pancakes wakes you up. Soft, fluffy, buttery pancakes. You lie there for a moment, blinking away the blurriness from your eyes as the soft pale morning light seeps through the curtains. You try to convince yourself— your nose, more rather— that this is a dream. Because your boyfriend is many things, handsome, thoughtful, loyal, but not one of those things falls under voluntarily waking up at the ass crack of dawn to make breakfast.Â
You roll onto your side to face his half of the bed. You stare at the empty spot he should be residing in at the moment. The sheets are still warmed, he must not have left them too long ago. You take a deep breath, push yourself up out of bed, and head out to the hall.Â
You find him standing at the range. The cabinets are painted a deep, but slightly faded and chipped, shade of green that immediately drew Daniel in in the photographs. You thank the original owners of the house in your head every day for their choice of painted cabinets decades ago. The backsplash is hand made, each tile is different— a different shade of green, a little design, glass, whatever they could find when they were putting this together. Your appliances may even be older than you and Daniel both.Â
But you love it, almost as much as he does. You love your tiny yellow kitchen table— even if one of the hinges for the wing is busted— and the window above the sink. You love how you can watch your neighbors go by and live their lives, unlike your apartment in New York, that view was the side of a brick building. You love that Daniel has started to feel more comfortable here. How he'll even step out on the patio now. There's no one able to find him here. You love how he's comfortable enough to be up this early, alone, to make breakfast for you with the curtains pulled back.Â
He knows you're there before he even looks up to see you, "Morning." He says happily, a tiny smile pulling at the edges of his lips.Â
You smile as you take a few sleepy steps over, leaning your hip against the counter. "You're cooking?"
He raises his eyebrows, peeking over at you.
"I'm just asking!" you laugh softly.Â
He turns back to the stove, trying to hide the smile plastered onto his face.
You walk closer, cozying up to his back. You peek over his shoulder and smile as you see a plate sitting in the counter. There's a stack of pancakes piled high, drowned in maple syrup. There's a little cup of cut up strawberries to the side and a lit candle stuck straight into the middle of the top most pancake.Â
He bites the inside of his cheek as he flips another in the pan. "Happy birthday." He says softly.Â
The candle flame flickers brightly where it's nestled into your birthday breakfast. You tilt your head to look at him. "You made me birthday pancakes?" you ask softly.Â
He shrugs, pauses, and then nods. "Yeah… We're still settling in. We don't know everything around here yet. I know birthdays can be… weird… in new places." He sets the spatula down and lets his eyes flick to the candle. "I dunno, I wanted your first birthday here to be nice, is all."
Your chest feels incredibly tight. You aren't sure if it could fill with more love than it has already. Your eyes scan the plate again as you lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist. You rest your chin on his shoulder and smile at him. He looks down at your hands before he twists slightly and wraps his arms around you. "Thank you," You whisper softly.Â
His chin rests atop your head and he smiles, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment. The refrigerator hums in the background. He sways side to side gently. "Do you like it here?" he asks softly.Â
You pull back from the embrace just enough to look at him. You brush your thumb over his cheek as he leans into your touch. You just smile, "Yeah, Daniel. I like it here."
He nods, smiles back, and then leans forward just enough to press a kiss against your forehead. "Happy birthday." He jerks his head towards the pancake stack, "Make a wish."
chapter summary: you and your roommate are upset over the election of Wilson Fisk as Mayor of New York City and begin planning on how to get him out: starting with a member of his communications team.
"What's got your panties in a twist?" you asked your roommate as you walked into the apartment. Your voice was slightly strained as you hauled your heavy work bag onto one of the hooks by the door, adding, "I mean, besides the shit-ass new reality that we live in…"
"That's exactly what I'm upset about, thanks…" she mumbled, sighing deeply as she scrolled past the same story that had been flooding her feed the entire afternoon.
"What happened today?" you asked, taking your shoes off and dumping them into the designated bin you put your work ones in so they wouldn't touch the others.
"Just fuel added to the fire that Fisk is gonna save the city," she said sarcastically, the look on her face exactly matching her tone.
"Bastard…" you mumbled as you began making your way to your bedroom to change out of your scrubs for the evening. Once you were in your pajamas, you came out of your room, sighing before saying, "I just don't get how people can ignore that the guy was imprisoned for racketeering and elect him mayor!"
"Yeah, not to mention all the murder…" she sighed. "But people wanted change, so that's what they voted for…"
"You still planning on trying to prove it?" you asked, referring to her comment on the one murder you knew was on her mind - because it was on yours, too.
She shrugged, staring up at the ceiling as she replied, "I mean, obviously I want to, but…"
"But nothing! You're BB fucking Urich! Since when have you ever given up on telling a story that needs to be told?"
BB said your name as she sent you a look that showed her emotional exhaustion on full display. "It's been twelve years. If the FBI couldn't find anything or prove that he killed Uncle Ben, how the hell am I supposed to?"
"Put the investigative part of your title to use, that's how," you told her, settling onto your side of the couch with a groan. Your shift had been taxing on your body and the unit was, of course, understaffed, so everyone was helping each other out when it came to patient care. As your tight muscles started to loosen, you said, "Don't get old, kid…"
BB laughed and lightly hit you with a throw pillow, saying, "I'm only a few months younger than you, you ass."
You stuck your tongue out at her teasingly before reaching out your hand and making a come here motion to signal her to give you her phone. "What? Why?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she angled the screen toward you.
"Just let me look at what you're seeing that's making you such a black cloud right now. I didn't have time to get on my phone at work today, so I have no clue what happened," you explained, settling closer to her on the plush couch.
"It's just a stupid video of Fisk getting out of his car and ordering a construction team to fill a hole in the road. Then he gave some speech about how he promised to 'get things done' when he was elected…" she told you as she hit play on the video taken from a bystander's cell phone.
"Hashtag Fisk can fix it…" you mumbled while rolling your eyes and shaking your head. As you watched the video loop again, you pointed to someone standing to the side of Fisk, asking, "Who's that?"
"The lady? That's Sheila Rivera. She's worked the political scene for years. Think Ben knew her once upon a time…"
"No, no, the young guy. Looks around our age," you told her, zooming in on the guy in question.
"I…dunno, but I'm sure I can find out. Why?"
"Well, what did Ben always say about following any lead you can?" you asked, reaching back into your memories of when the two of you would sit around Ben's office at The Bulletin when the two of you were out of school and your families couldn't afford daycare.
"What are you implying?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked at you. She gave you that look you had seen more times than you could count since you were young, the one she gave you when she could tell you were formulating a plan founded on lofty goals and aspirations alone, rather than solid evidence and proof that it would work.
"I'm just saying, we get in with Mr. Pale and Mysterious and you might be able to weasel your way into information you need to expose Fisk's bullshit for what it really is: a move to grab more power for his own personal gain. That's how it always is with guys like him."
"We?" BB asked, eyeing you incredulously.
"Yes, we!" you told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Think about it! It's way too obvious if you with the famous blog try to get in with him. But if I hook him, we hang out a time or two and I mention that my best friend is a reporter who would love to get an interview with the Mayor. If the cards are played right, you get the beat on all things Fisk and maybe we can get inside information from Mr. Yet To Be Named, to maybe be called Baby Fisk!"
"Okay, I will be finding out this guy's name immediately so you can stop coming up with nicknames for him…" BB said with a laugh as she gently shoved you off of her. As she typed away on her phone, she asked off-handedly, "By the way, just how do you think you're gonna do this, Miss ICU nurse? When do you have enough days off to help me figure out who this guy is, find out where he hangs out, who he hangs out with, and then chat him up?"
"I'll have you know that sometimes Kaci is generous and I happen to have damn near a week straight off, starting tonight!" you replied smugly, leaning back and cradling your head in your hands.
"How the hell did you manage that?"
"Work the front half of the week this week and the back half of next week. Makes travel easy. That way, if shit hits the fan, I have PTO to fall back on. You just gotta be smarter than the system!"
"It sounds like you're not letting this go, huh?" she asked, rolling her eyes playfully as she scrolled through another search that got her closer to the guy in the video's identity.
"Nope!" you replied, popping the 'p' before laughing quietly. "Mom may have practically forced me out of being a journalist, but I'll never forget everything Ben taught us or what I've seen him do to chase a story and reveal the truth. If there's even a chance that we can help get Fisk out of office, I'm more than willing to take it."
BB stopped scrolling for a second when she finally landed on what she was looking for. Instead of revealing the information, her voice was quiet and reflective as she said, "It could be dangerous. You know that, right?"
"I know," you replied solemnly. You squeezed her shoulder gently as you added with a small smile, "That's why I want us to do this together. You and me against the world. Just like it's always been."
"You and me against the world," BB agreed, a smile finally making its way onto her lips as she nodded once. Right when she finished saying that, a timer started going off in the kitchen and it finally brought your attention to the delicious smell of food lingering in the air of the apartment. As you went to stand to retrieve the food from the oven, you heard BB say, "Daniel Blake."
"Sorry?" you asked, pausing as you passed through the kitchen's threshold.
"The guy. His name's Daniel Blake. Looks like he's working on the communications team for Fisk," she replied.
"You're amazing, BB," you said, pointing finger guns at her as you continued into the kitchen before dinner burnt. Your voice carried through the kitchen and into the living room as you said, "Now all you need to do is-"
"He hangs out at this one club in Midtown a lot it looks like," she interrupted, the smirk audible in her voice as she told you the information.
"What's the name? It sounds like I need to go shopping," you said with a quiet laugh as you placed the baking sheet onto a cooling rack. "Operation Infiltrate the Fisk Administration is a go!"
a/n: and here we go! i've got a lot up my sleeve for this one! it definitely is a little self-indulgent fic that i just wanted to write, but i hope it's enjoyable for you guys! (i say as i'm sure the daniel blake fandom is quite small, but he's my blorbo and i love hiiiimmmm)
anyway! likes, comments, and re-blogs are appreciated! until next time! xo! <3
What's the point in loving someone morally confusing? It's not likely, so unlike me... Uh oh, I can't shake this feeling, 'cause I think I'm falling for the villain... ~ PEGGY
hey guys! here's the latest story that's taken over my mind as of late! it's your typical accidental love story, in which you end up falling for the last person you thought you would. daniel blake, newly elected mayor fisk's head of communications. there's some manipulation, flirting, fluff, angst, comfort, and ultimately falling in love. i hope any of you who are daniel fans will enjoy!
ps: shoutout to @loveroftoomanyfandoms for helping me out SO MUCH with this story! it's been a blast brainstorming with you and i can't wait for you to see all the work come to fruition!
Warnings: Smut, Praise Kink, Oh no! There's only one bed?!?, Body Insecurity, Daniel is Super Submissive, Loss of Virginity.
Summary: A snowstorm strands you and your colleague Daniel Blake after a political conference several hours outside New York. Every hotel within fifty miles is booked. The last motel has one room.... And there's only one bed.
Sneaky peak below!
You had seen him cocky before. All sharp suits and sharper smiles, all quick talk and polished certainty. But this, this was different. This was the version of him that surfaced only when nobody was looking. The version that seemed to come apart under praise, under attention, and now, under the unbearable sweetness of being wanted too openly to deny.
“You keep staring at me,” you said softly.
His throat moved, a gentle gulp that made his Adam's apple bob.
“I know, sorry-” he admitted, and the honesty in it was almost wrecking. His brown doe eyes flicked to your mouth, then away again, then back with visible effort, like he was fighting his own body for the right to behave. “I’m trying not to.”
“Why?” you prod, nudging his leg with your barefoot on the bedsheet, a smirk painting your features.
He gave a tiny, helpless laugh that sounded more like a confession than amusement. “Because... you keep saying things that are making me hard."
Daniel Likes Fireworks
Starring: Mayor Daniel Blake and His Right-Hand Ma'am
Summary: Daniel's first Fourth of July Cookout's a bust, but RHM knows how to save the holiday.
Contains: Frozen meat, a sweaty mayor, and a little road trip.
Words: 1.3k
Daniel Blake started counting down to the Fourth of July Cookout seven days in advance.
Every year, for as long as you can remember, Stone's Throw has hosted a cookout in the park on the 4th of July. The park isn't much of a park, really. It's an ancient concrete slab and a few picnic tables beneath a roof with a leak or three in it. But the whole town is invited, and everybody brings something. The mayor's office is typically responsible for the hot dogs and hamburgers, grilled to perfection on the former mayor's trusty old grill. With each arrival, the picnic tables will fill with potato salad, cole slaw, pies, cakes, corn and tomatoes and all manner of fruits and vegetables fresh from local gardens. Everything a person could want on a hot summer day can be found at this cookout.
The only thing missing, Daniel informed you when you filled him in, were the fireworks. You explained to him that the cookout typically happened in the middle of the day, so fireworks would be wasted in the daylight. And when pressed, reminded him that most of the town's residents were of the elderly variety, and did not appreciate being woken up by the bangs and whistles of someone's hard-earned money going up in smoke.
He was a little disappointed, but not nearly as disappointed as when the weather guy announced an excessive heat warning for the 4th.
After several phone calls voicing concern over the expected 106° temperature, the cookout was officially called off.
The freezer at Town Hall wasn't big enough to hold all the meat that didn't get cooked. The overflow ended up in the big chest freezer in the police chief's garage. You'll try again later in the summer.
And so, instead of cooking for his friends on an open flame in 106° heat, Daniel spent his Saturday sweating and whining on the couch.
"This blows," he sighs when the end credits on your movie begin to roll.
"I think you're expecting too much of this Baldwin Brother," you smirk.
"More people would've come this time," he continues, ignoring you. "I think I've won over a few more since the first one."
"You have," you agree. "But they don't love you enough to risk a heat stroke, Mr. Mayor."
"Hmph." Daniel playfully crosses his arms, like he's mad about it.
"What's the 4th like in New York?" you ask, turning off the TV and dropping the remote on the cushion between you.
"Loud," he says, getting that faraway look in his eyes that means he's thinking about home. "There's fireworks all over."
"Can you see the big show that gets put on TV from where you lived?"
"Not really," he answers. "On Staten, everybody does their own. I used to go out in the street and just look up and I'd spin in circles and get dizzy trying to keep up with them. But last year, I got invited to a party on a rooftop in the city, and we could see the big one they broadcast. Do you watch?"
"Nah," you sigh, crossing your ankles on the coffee table. "Fireworks aren't really my thing."
"Not even on TV?"
You shrug.
"So you can't see any here, at all?" he asks. "Or hear them from another town?"
"Nope."
"Hm," he hums.
"What?"
"Just… can't remember a 4th of July where there weren't fireworks, is all."
You wish you'd bought a pack of sparklers at the grocery store a few days ago.
But you didn't, so you glance at the clock. Only an hour until sundown.
"You wanna go for a ride, Daniel Blake?"
"What am I, a dog?" he jokes.
"If you're a good boy, I'll let you stick your head out the window," you wink.
Daniel scoffs and rolls his eyes. You grin and slap his knee.
"C'mon," you order, unsticking your sweaty ass from the couch. "I wanna show you somethin'."
"I'm never gonna get used to these damn roads," Daniel complains from the passenger's seat of Earl's pickup.
"The roads have to wind through the mountains, Mr. Mayor," you explain patiently. Perhaps a little condescendingly. "Because if they went straight up and over, they'd be too steep, and we'd fall off."
Daniel moans and tilts his head toward the window, hoping for more fresh air.
The air doesn't really get much fresher than this. You're on top of a damn mountain. You pull into a scenic overlook - not quite at the peak, but high enough to make an impact - and put the truck into park.
"What are we doing here?" he asks, just a hint of fear in his voice. One day, he'll stop treating every outing like an opportunity to get murdered and accept that sometimes, you just want to take him places.
"Thought you wanted to see some fireworks?"
Daniel's face lights up.
"C'mon," you grin, getting out of the truck and heading toward the overlook. There's a barrier made of stacked stones to keep you from falling off the edge, and two wooden benches for travelers to enjoy the view. You and Daniel sit together, staring out at the valley below.
"Can you see Stone's Throw from up here?" he asks.
"We're on the other side of the mountain," you tell him gently, gesturing behind you. You lean closer to him, so you can point out clusters of lights in the rapidly darkening evening. You name all the towns in sight, and Daniel seems impressed. You're not sure if it's at the view, or that you know exactly where everything is.
The fireworks don't announce themselves. There are no loud booms or shrill screams. From up here, all you can hear is a dull pop as bursts of light begin to appear in the valley. Daniel vibrates in his seat, eyes darting from one explosion to the next, like he's worried he's going to miss something. He nudges your knee with his on occasion, pointing out fading bursts of colors he wants you to see. You smile and nod appreciatively, not wanting him to know that you're enjoying his reactions more than the fireworks.
When the last traces of light leave the sky, and it's fully dark, that's when the real show begins. The explosions get higher and louder and more colorful; the first wave must've been families with impatient kids setting off fireworks they picked up in the Walmart parking lot. Now, it's time for the real deal. This is the stuff people get licenses for, or cross state lines to buy.
"Wow," Daniel breathes, staring at the show in the valley. He's calmer now that the fireworks are more concentrated, but still watching with the enthusiasm of a kid who's been waiting for this all year.
You liked fireworks when you were a kid. All kids do, don't they? But the novelty faded as you grew up. At some point, you decided you'd rather stay home than spend an hour in the car with your parents on the way to whatever church-sanctioned celebration you were allowed to go to. For your ex-husband, the holiday was just an excuse to get drunk, meaning you spent the night keeping him out of trouble instead of enjoying yourself. When you started working for Earl and threw yourself into the running of Stone's Throw… all the childish pleasures you had left faded into the background. Instead, your life became about spreadsheets and phone calls and trying your best for the only person who thought you were worth a damn.
But tonight, sitting by Daniel Blake's side on a mountaintop, watching colorful explosions in the valley below, you remember what it feels like to get excited about the idea of fireworks. Something special that only happens once or twice a year. Something that brings people together, over food and friendship and freedom. Something fleeting that you need to appreciate in the moment, because it'll be part of a memory that you'll treasure for a lifetime.
