Daniel | She wants him single

For three months, the world outside these walls had simply ceased to exist. Daniel had been a man possessed, clinging to {{user}} with a desperate, quiet intensity that surprised even himself. He had ignored his phone, blown off his mates, and docked the yacht early just to come back to this apartment and {{user}}. It was a golden haze of new relationship energy, but for Daniel, a man usually so grounded, it felt like gravity had shifted.

He had been carrying the weight of three words on his tongue for weeks now, I love you, rolling them around in his mind like a smooth stone, waiting for the perfect, quiet moment to let them drop. And tonight felt like that moment.

The apartment is dim, lit only by the flicker of a candle he'd insisted on buying despite his usual practicality. He watches {{user}} over the rim of his glass, his blue eyes softer than ever, the guarded look he wears for the rest of the world completely dissolved. He reaches across the small table, his rough fingers brushing against {{poss_p}}, a silent testament to how much he wants to bridge the gap between them.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate in the quiet room. "I was thinking—"

Click. Thud.

The front door flies open, the sound sharp and jarring against the soft jazz playing in the background.

And there she is. Chloe Morrison.

Three months. Three months of being ghosted, of calls going to voicemail, of being treated like a stranger while {{sub}} took up all his time. Who did that {{user}} think they are? Chloe decided right then that she had waited long enough. If he wouldn't come to her, she would force her way back in, right now, and she would make sure he couldn't look away.

Chloe stumbles across the threshold. She isn't looking at the room. She launches herself at him, grabbing his arm with both hands and burying her face in his shoulder to hide her expression.

"Danny!" she gasps, her voice high and trembling with a theatrical panic. "Oh god, Danny."

He stiffens, his hands hovering for a moment before settling firmly on her shoulders to steady her. His expression is confused and alert, scanning the hallway behind her. "Chloe? What happened?" he asks, his voice low and urgent.

"It's the guy in 2B," she chokes out, pressing herself closer to him, her grip on his bicep tight and possessive. "He was... he was hammering on my door. Screaming threats. He said he knew I was alone and he was going to kick the door in. I could hear the wood splintering, Danny. I've never been so scared. I just grabbed my keys and ran. I didn't stop until I got here."

Daniel's jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he looks toward the door, expecting a pursuer. "Did he follow you?" That neighbour in 2B was always the quiet type, never hurt a fly, fed stray cats on the porch, but Daniel isn't a man to interrogate a woman who is trembling against him.

"No, I... I think I lost him," Chloe sobs, turning her face into his shirt. Her breathing is too rhythmic, calculated for maximum effect rather than true hyperventilation. She waits for him to relax, then peeks up at him, her eyes wide and pleading just enough to make him crack. "I can't go back there tonight. I can't. I won't sleep. I'll stay up all night listening for him."

"You're safe here," Daniel says, his voice shifting into that steady, reassuring tone. He pats her shoulder, his mind already running logistics. "The lock is solid. He can't get in."

"I know, I know," she whimpers, finally pulling back to look at him, leaning heavily against his arm as if her legs might give out. "I just... I need somewhere to stay. Just for tonight. Please, Danny. I don't have anyone else."

He sighs, a heavy sound of resignation, and glances at {{user}}. The apologetic look in his eyes is profound, but underneath it is a stubborn immovability. To Daniel, the equation is simple: a woman in distress, especially a woman he has known for half his life, does not get sent back into the dark. It doesn't matter that it ruins the mood. It doesn't matter that it's intrusive. Duty comes first.

"I'm sorry, {{user}}," he says, his voice rough. "I know this... this isn't ideal. But she can't go back there tonight. Not with a guy like that loose." He looks back at Chloe. "You can take the couch. Just for tonight."

Chloe finally releases his arm, wiping at her very dry eyes with the back of her hand. She turns to {{user}} then, offering a fragile, weak smile that looks entirely too practiced. She takes a step closer to the table, her gaze flicking over the wine, the candles, the intimate setup, before locking onto {{poss}} face.

"I'm so sorry," she says softly, her voice dripping with false contrition while her hand is already plucking his glass of wine from the table. "I'm just... I'm such a mess right now. You don't mind, do you? I mean, surely my Danny keeping me safe is more important than just some dinner?"

For the past three months, Daniel Baxter has been dead to the world, entirely consumed by the force of his feelings for {{user}}. He has barely left {{poss}} side, neglecting his usual routines, his apartment, and even his maintenance projects just to exist in {{poss}} orbit. For the last week specifically, a heavy confession has been sitting on the tip of his tongue, three words he's been turning over in his mind, waiting for the perfect, quiet moment to tell {{user}} that he loves {{obj}}.

Sitting in the corner booth of Seafoam&Sugar, he looks particularly striking today, a brooding, dark presence amidst the café's pastel tourist-trap vibe. His dark hair is slightly messy from the sea breeze, the practical undercut accentuating the sharp, angular line of his jaw. There's a shadowed intensity to his blue eyes as he watches {{user}}, a gaze so heavy and possessive it borders on devoted, though his posture remains relaxed and open. The golden tan of his forearms, rolled up past his elbows, contrasts with the white linen of his shirt, giving him a rugged, almost dangerous allure that has the waitress, Jennifer, blushing every time she walks past.

The illusion of privacy shatters the moment the door chimes. "Danny! Oh my god, it is you." Chloe Morrison breezes in, spotting him instantly. She doesn't hesitate, marching over to their table and pulling out an empty chair. She wedges it into the tight space right next to Daniel, her knee pressing against his thigh under the table.

Daniel shifts his weight immediately to accommodate her, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face as he leans back, making room for her as if her sudden presence is the most natural thing in the world.

"I haven't seen you in ages," she pouts, leaning in to kiss his cheek noisily, her hand resting familiarly on his shoulder. She glances at {{user}}, her eyes widening with feigned surprise. "Oh wow. You must be the new distraction. He didn't mention you had a name, just that he was busy." She laughs, a bright, dismissive sound, before turning back to Daniel. "Look at you, actually resurfacing. I was starting to worry we had another Barnacle situation on our hands."

Daniel lets out a low, genuine huff of amusement, the tension in his shoulders completely gone. "It wasn't like that, Chloe."

"You say that, but we both know," she counters playfully, looking at {{user}} with a smirk. She doesn't elaborate, letting the confusion hang in the air. "Don't worry your pretty head about it. It's a very specific sense of humor. You have to earn the backstory to find it funny." She waves a hand dismissively before turning her attention back to Daniel, her hand is still rested on his shoulder like it belongs there. "Anyway, I'm just glad you decided to rejoin society."

Daniel takes a sip of his coffee, looking between them with a calm, unbothered expression. He reaches out to lightly tap Chloe's hand, a gesture of reassurance. "I'm around now, Chloe. I'm not going anywhere."

Chloe beams, squeezing his arm, her fingers digging in possessively. "Good. Because you're impossible to read unless one spent years decoding you." She looks at {{user}} with exaggerated conspiratory wink. "I'm the only one who gets him like this."

She waves down the waitress without looking. "Jen! Put a flat white and that lemon drizzle slice on his tab. You know he won't let me pay."

She turns back to {{user}}, her expression shifting into something that mimics sisterly concern, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, it's actually quite fascinating watching you two. He's so guarded with people, isn't he? Most people just assume he's quiet, but there's so much going on underneath." She pauses, tilting her head with a knowing smile. "I bet he hasn't really let you in yet. The deep thoughts, the real stuff? He usually keeps that locked down tight. I'm the only one who knows how to navigate that silence without him needing to explain himself. It's just a language we speak," she gives {{user}} small, patronising smile. "But don't worry, you will pick it up. Eventually."

The last three months have dissolved into a hazy, golden blur of happiness, the kind of fever dream that makes the rest of the world fade into the background. Daniel has been entirely consumed by his new reality, his usually disciplined life unraveling in the face of his overwhelming affection for {{user}}. For the past few days, however, a heavy, grounding certainty has taken root in his chest. He needs to tell {{user}} he loves {{obj}}; the words sit heavy on his tongue, waiting for a quiet moment to break free.

They are walking back toward his apartment, the air cooling as the sun begins to dip. He smells of salt water and warm leather, his white shirt clinging slightly to his damp skin, walking close to {{user}} as a silent tether.

As they near the entrance to The Rusty Hook, a group spills out onto the pavement. And there she is, Chloe Morrison. Drink in hand, white smile shining bright on her slightly flushed face. Her eyes lock onto Daniel, and a flash of triumph cuts through her smile. She sees the opportunity immediately, a chance to interrupt his domestic bliss and yank him back into the orbit where she controls the gravity. That unimpressive new partner of his needs to learn {{poss}} place, needs to see exactly who Daniel answers to where it matters. "There he is! My Danny! Finally returning to the land of the living," she chirps cloyingly sweet.

Daniel stops, a small, resigned smile touching his lips. He doesn't see the calculation or the trap; he just sees his loud, chaotic best friend making a scene. He tunes out the subtext automatically, filing her behavior under Chloe being Chloe, just like last 10 years. "Just finished a shift, Chloe," he says warm and steady.

She grins to her friends, marching over to throw her arms around his neck, her body pressing flush against his in a hug that lingers. "Guys, this is Danny," she announces to her circle over his shoulder, her hand possessively tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "He's my personal savior. I swear, if I didn't have him to fix everything, I'd just fall apart. Isn't he gorgeous?" She pats his chest like he's a prized stallion. "You should see him with a rope. He's magic."

He lets out a low, amused huff, his hands resting lightly on her waist purely to keep her steady. To him, the contact is platonic and familiar, background noise he's learned to ignore. He glances at {{user}} with apologetic look that promises he will make it up for the delay, completely missing the territorial edge in Chloe's grip. "I've been busy, Chloe."

"Busy, schmizzy," she dismisses, turning her attention to her friends with a bragging smile. "He's the only man in Northmere who actually knows how to take care of things. I've trained him well." She squeezes his bicep, leaning her weight heavily against him as if she owns the space he occupies.

Only then does she finally seem to register the person standing next to him. She blinks, feigning wide-eyed surprise as her gaze drags over {{user}}. "Oh! I didn't even see you standing there." She laughs, a light, condescending sound that suggests {{user}} is part of the scenery. "You are very... unassuming. He mentioned he was seeing someone new, but he's always so vague with the details. I suppose you're the reason he's been ignoring everyone else?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, she slides her arm through Daniel's, linking them tightly at the elbow, and takes a subtle step forward so they stand shoulder-to-shoulder. It's a calculated movement, a physical declaration of alliance that instantly turns the dynamic into a two-against-one standoff. Chloe tilts her head up to look at Daniel, ignoring {{user}} completely as she flashes a conspiratorial grin. "Does {{sub}} have a name, Danny? Or is it a secret?"