Danny x reader insert—The Bikeriders
summary; in which your perception about Danny begins to change.
warning(s); none just fluff
author's note: thanks for voting in my last poll! expect more fics to come!
The first punch was thrown about an hour after the picnic started.
Of course a little blood and a couple of loose teeth on the ground didn't bother you when you were watching the Vandals from a distance alongside their wives.
Unfortunately, you were a little too close for comfort this time when the first punch was thrown and Kathy, Gail, and Betty were nowhere in sight.
Scrambling from the wooden picnic table, you sidestepped two drunken bikers tussling with Johnny on the ground. The two assailants wore colors you didn't recognize.
"You dumb pieces of—"
A breeze of nicotine rushed past you, making you stumble. His slew of insults got lost in the sound of violent grunts that took place behind you.
You opened your mouth to tell Benny to watch it, but you quickly shut up, knowing that your words would get lost in the wind as he headed straight for Johnny's rescue.
You couldn't have been more grateful for leaving your secluded spot at the picnic table just in time for Benny to tackle one of the bikers on top of Johnny, and throw him onto the wooden surface. Thankfully, you turned your head just in time to hear Benny's knuckles crack against the man's nose.
"Y/N!"
You lifted your head upwards, narrowly missing Wahoo and Corky as they drunkenly ran past you to help Benny—who was most likely getting himself killed because of his recklessness. You shielded your eyes from the sun and sprinted towards the voice that called out your name.
By the time you reached the pickup truck, Danny had his hand extended towards you. You took it, and he carefully pulled you up onto the bed of the truck, sweat sprinkling his forehead. Once he was sure you caught your footing, he released your hand and you took a seat on the blanket that was sprawled beneath you.
"I didn't know you liked seeing 'em fight up close," Danny joked, readjusting the strap of his camera around his neck. He pointed the silver lens at the mob that was now forming around the area where you were once sitting.
"I don't," you said, eyes going to the side of his face and then to the commotion from afar. You brushed the dirt and loose pieces of grass from your palms before sitting on the side of your knees folded under you.
Although you didn't care much for any of those Vandals, you only stuck around because the Wives were the only friends you truly had. The only thing setting you apart from them was the fact that you weren't married to one of those brutes in a matching leather jacket. (You weren't married at all, to be frank.) But this fact didn't bother you. In fact, you had no intention of ever wanting to marry a Vandal for the sake of them either getting killed on their bike or cut by somebody's knife. You simply enjoyed their company because it was must better than being alone.
But your dislike for some of the Vandals didn't outweigh your distrust for Danny.
Perhaps it was his probing questions towards you and your friends, or that invasive rectangular box with a lens that hung around his neck. Regardless, you didn't trust him fully. Either that, or he intrigued you and you didn't want to admit it entirely to yourself.
"How come you're not out there helpin' them?" You asked in between the clicks of his camera. "Don't know how to fight?"
You knew the answer to this, but you just wanted to shake off the embarrassment of nearly getting in the middle of a breakout fight.
"I'm not much of a fighter," he said with a chuckle, a look of amusement passing over his features. "I prefer to be behind the camera instead of in front of it."
"Well, I prefer there not be a camera in the first place."
"Is that why you won't let me take a picture of you, Y/N?"
You turned to look at him, your cheeks getting warmer than the sun beating down on you both. He was looking straight ahead, seemingly satisfied with the pictures of sweaty, bloody men rolling around in the dirt. He grinned when he finally looked at you. "You're camera shy. Is that why you won't let me take your picture?"
"I'm not shy. I just don't like my picture taken, that's all," you said, defensively.
"Well, do you like taking the pictures?" He got off his knees and sat next to you, removing the camera from around his neck.
You shuffled, putting a bit of distance between you. "I've never tried." You shrugged carelessly, finding this conversation to be pointless and ridiculous.
"Maybe you'll like being behind the camera, then."
Before you could respond, Danny placed his camera in your lap. "You look through that little square there," he said, pointing to the back of the camera, "and make sure it aligns just right. Then you pull this lever back and press that button at the top to take the picture."
You looked down at the camera in your hands before looking at Danny with a lifted brow.
He chuckled softly. "Come on, try it." He took the strap of the camera and carefully draped it around your neck, his fingers lightly brushing the little hairs there. Quietly, he demonstrated on how to hold it up to your face and you reluctantly mimicked his movements. "Now, just find something interesting."
You took a breath and let your eyes sweep over the picnic. The fight had settled down and the boys were separating to their own corners. Some went to wrap their arms around their wives as if they had won the battle. The beers were flying left and right and the bikes were roaring in the distance. Perceptively, you panned the camera all the way around until you landed on the photographer himself. He was busy tinkering with his portable microphone.
At the sound of the click, he looked up as if surprised to be the subject of your aperture.
"How does it feel to be the one in front of the camera?" You grinned, playfully.
"Still nothing compared to being behind it," He smiled back before hopping off the bed of the truck. "But since you took my picture, you know what that means, right?"
He offered his hand to help you down. He slid off the truck with his ease and released his hand before smoothing out your shirt.
"What?" you asked, removing the camera from around your neck and handing it to him.
"That I get to take a picture of you" he insisted, kindly. "Just one, I promise. If that's okay."
You crossed your arms as if to mull it over before rolling your eyes. "Fine. Just one. But I don't know how to pose or anything."
"Just be you," he said, setting down his portable microphone. He put the camera around his neck and lifted it up to his face, waiting to take your picture.
You sighed and hoisted yourself on the tail-end of the bed of the truck. You crossed your legs and set your hands in your lap. Just as you were about to look directly at the camera, Betty had called your name from afar, waving you over. The camera clicked as you looked over Danny's shoulder as the group migrated to a small bonfire.
"Perfect," Danny said, looking down at his camera. He glanced behind him as the group formed before looking back at you. "You look great."
You hopped off the truck. "But I wasn't ready," you said with a slight laugh, knowing he had caught you off guard just as you had done him. "I wasn't even looking."
"The most beautiful pictures are the candid ones, Y/N." His smile lingered before he bent down and picked up his equipment. Slowly he turned to join the rest of the group surrounding a small fire.
It took you a moment as the butterflies in your stomach began to flutter about. The smile on your face stuck like glue and all of sudden you were unsure of what to do with your hands.
That Danny...he sure was somethin'.