#dan avidan reader insert

“Hey, there’s no pressure, you’re okay,” he reassures you, now leaning back against the counter, his head against one of the upper cabinets. “It’s okay to say no.”

“...I can’t— can’t say it. I’m sorry, Danny.”

“You’re alright,” he gently hushes you, “I understand; besides, you don’t owe me anything, I promise.”

That’s a sentiment he’s expressed several times over the past few months, ever since you told him why you broke up with your, at the time, boyfriend. Now, he’s doing everything he can to make sure you know that you don’t owe anyone anything, and you do know that; it’s just something that is, in all honesty, easy to understand, and much harder to actually feel.

And he understands that too.

“Do you want me to come over?”

You’re quick to answer with, “Please,” and he immediately heads to the door, waving a quick goodbye to everybody, who all respond with understanding, and varying levels of attention.

“I’ll have to stop talking when I get in the car, are you okay with me hanging up, or do you want me to keep the phone on speaker?”

You hesitate before replying, chewing your lip as you try to think. “U-um, I think… I think I’ll be okay?” Before he can say anything, you add, “Just, please hurry.” Your voice breaks again, and he chews at his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way to the car.

“I’ll be there before you know it, alright?” You nod, not even taking into account that he can’t see you; but knowing you, he can almost sense it. “Hang tight, baby.”

You give a small hum of acknowledgement and hang up, unable to think of anything else to say. You know he has no idea, he’s used that pet name since he first met you; but now, it only makes this overwhelming ache worse, and you clutch your phone to your chest as another sob wracks your frame.

You hear a knock at your door, and though you know Dan has an emergency key, you don’t want to make him worry any more than you already have. It takes more than a bit of effort, but you get up from the curled position you wound up in, legs shaky as you walk to the door.

The door swings open, and you see Danny standing there, all lanky limbs and sad eyes as he gives you a soft, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply lamely, forcing a smile as your voice still trembles between ragged breaths. “You wanna— um, you wanna come in?”

He steps inside and shuts the door behind him, leaving just you and him standing in the foyer, and he almost towers over you. “What can I do to help?”

Your voice is weak as you tell him, “I… I could really use a hug.”

“Hey, c’mere,” he says gently, holding his arms open, and you immediately wrap your arms around him. He’s soft and he’s warm, but more than that, he’s safe. He holds you against his chest and you can’t help but cry a little bit harder. Somehow, having someone to hold you makes it feel safer to fall apart, and he’s holding you so close you can feel his heartbeat, slower than yours, and his breathing, steadier than yours.

You focus on that.

He’s murmuring soft assurances, words that you only catch bits and pieces of, but, “I’m here,” reaches through your racing thoughts. “I’m right here, okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in a deep breath of his own. “You’re safe, you’re okay. Just let it all out.”

And you do, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt as you cry into his chest, and he doesn’t stop whispering those reassurances, only holds you even tighter against him.

Once your crying has slowed, and your sobs faded to soft hiccups, he pulls away, meeting your eyes as he says, “Let’s go sit down, yeah?”

Rubbing away your tears with the heel of your hand, you nod, following his lead as he walks into the living room and practically flops onto the couch. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” you tease as he kicks his shoes off, your voice still shaky and hoarse from crying; but you both know humor is a coping method of yours, not to mention his as well, so he takes it in stride.

“I will, thank you.”

You sit down in the corner opposite him, sideways with your back against the armrest and your feet up on the cushion, and he mirrors you. Both your knees are bent to keep from kicking each other, but his are moreso, his long legs slightly bunched against his chest.

“You know, it’s okay if your feet touch me, I’ve dealt with worse,” you say with a small laugh, wiping away a few stray tears on your cheeks and chin.

With a chuckle, he stretches his legs out some, purposefully wiggling his toes against your feet. “I dunno man, these feet have been around the block a few times.”

“I’ve dealt with your feet plenty of times before dude; I’m pretty sure your feet have been within inches of my face at some point, so I think I’m good with this,” you assure him, your demeanor already completely shifting. Before he can reply, you make sure to add, “Also, I’m gonna fucking fight you for that pun.”

“You think a mere round of fisticuffs could silence my terrible puns?”

“One can dream, can’t they?”

“Ooh, ouch,” he clutches his chest, hissing in fake agony before shooting you a smile, which then crumples into confusion. “Wait, when were my feet next to your face? I feel like I would remember that.”

“You remember that one time we both fell asleep while watching that dumb movie?” you start to explain, the thoughts from your breakdown fading from your consciousness.

“I mean, we’ve watched several dumb movies, but go on.”

“Well, you fell asleep on the couch like fifteen minutes into the movie—”

“Sound about right.”

“—and then, I’m not sure how, but I wound up on the floor? Woke up with your bare feet just right next to my face, lovely thing to wake up to.”

He laughs at that, asking, “Is that a hint of sarcasm I detect? I’ll have you know, there are plenty of fans who would love to be that close to my feet.”

You almost choke on your laughter, eyebrows crinkled as you ask, “Oh my god, is that supposed to be a good thing?”

“Well, it’s definitely a thing, that’s for sure,” he says with a shrug, somehow completely nonchalant about the subject matter.

You shake your head and laugh again, a moment of quiet falling between the two of you, and his demeanor switches to something less playful as he meets your eyes and asks, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You pause for a moment, eyes darting away before you reply, “Maybe later? I kind of just wanna be a dumbass right now.”

“Oh, only right now?”

“Hey!” You lightly kick his shin, and he nudges you right back, a bit harder. Sticking your tongue out, you continue, “Seems like it’s time for the tradition of ‘(Y/n) kicks Danny’s ass in Mario Kart’, square up, loser.”

You practically jump up off the couch to grab the joycons, and he rolls his eyes, muttering, “Oh, sure, you win a couple times in a row and suddenly you’re the all time champion…” You don’t even have to turn around to hear the smile in his voice.

Three hours later, you find yourself lounged on the couch, your feet in Dan’s lap, and takeout boxes strewn across the coffee table as Cowboy Bebop plays for what must be the millionth time in the two years you’ve known Dan. It’s been dark outside for awhile now, and you can feel a hint of sleepiness beginning to set in. You did, in fact, beat him at Mario Kart, at least for three of the five races, and that was a win in your book; now, things were more than chill, neither of you having even spoken for the past hour.

Are you still watching? pops up on the screen when the current episode ends, and Dan glances over at you to ask, “Are we still watching?”

You take a moment to think before shaking your head, pulling yourself up to a sitting position. With a quick movement, you grab the Switch controller and put it in sleep mode before turning back to Dan, falling into the same position you’d taken when you first sat down. “Could we, um, talk about it now?” you ask hesitantly, tucking a strand of hair behind you ear.

“It? What do you mean…,” It only takes one look at your expression for it to click. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, yeah, of course. Hit me with it.”

You take a deep breath, your knees pulled as close to your chest as possible. “Okay, so, you know how I broke up with him a couple months ago?” He nods, and you continue, “I, um, I just… I keep, like, missing certain things about the relationship. Just, small things: pet names, intimacy, the amount of trust and faith we’d had. And I know, I know it’s stupid; fuck, the shit he did to me still hurts, so much. I don’t know why, and I— I hate that I miss any part of that relationship.”

The room is quiet for a moment before Dan clears his throat, speaking up, “It’s not a weird thing, you know. If it had been all bad, you wouldn’t have stayed for so long. It’s normal to miss some things, I mean, god knows I still miss some aspects of the few batshit girls I’ve been with; and it’s especially hard when you’re single, I get it.”

“It really fucking sucks,” you add in, your fingers gripping the fabric of your jeans as you rest your head on your knees. “I just, like—” you have to take another deep breath, closing your eyes as you will yourself not to cry again. “I miss being wanted. I miss being held. I miss being that close to someone, and I’m so…,” you can’t stop the few tears that begin to spill over, “I’m so scared I’ll never find someone who wants me like that, like, what if he was the only one? What if I blew it?”

Dan wants to scream. He wants to shout from the rooftops that that asshole was absolutely not the only person who would ever want you; that, hell, he wants to be that person for you. But, he won’t do that to you, certainly not when you’re so vulnerable. He would never forgive himself if he took advantage of you like that. Instead, he settles for saying, “You didn’t. I promise you, he’s not the only one. You didn’t lose anything when you got rid of his sorry ass, alright? You should never have to deal with that pain just to be ‘wanted’.”

“I can’t help it; for some fucked up reason, I can’t help but wonder if that would be better than this— this awful loneliness…,” you trail off for a moment, hesitant to express your next thought. Voice so very small, you add, “He hurt me so fucking bad, Danny.”

“Please, don’t ever think you should’ve settled for that.”

You stare at your feet, trying to swallow the even harsher emotions that were building up in your head. “...it’s so difficult. I don’t even know what I’m thinking or feeling honestly, it’s all moving around so fast in my head and I don’t understand and I— I just wish I could be held again.” More tears start to fall, and you’re hugging your legs so close to your chest, as if that could quell the ache.

Danny hesitates for a moment, unable to look away from your tear-streaked face, the sad eyes that won’t meet his. With the softest voice, he finds the courage to say, “I, um, I could hold you, if you’re comfortable with that.” When you don’t respond immediately, he quickly adds, “I just wanna support you in whatever way’s best, so like, please tell me if I cross a line or—”

“Please,” you cut him off, your voice breaking as you finally look up at him, tears falling fast.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he starts to open his arms and you immediately crawl over to the other side of the couch, your arms wrapping around his waist as you lean into his side. He wraps an arm around you, holding you close, and his farther hand moves to cradle the back of your head against him. He’s softly combing his fingers through your hair, and you’re crying harder than you have all night, harsh sobs wracking your entire frame.

“I got you, I’m here… let it all out.”

And you do, so much more than before, a small part of your subconscious knowing you must be staining his shirt with all the tears. “I’m such a mess, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You’re words are broken and muffled, but he still hears them, and gently hushes you.

“Shh, hey, no, you have nothing to apologize for, alright? You’re hurting, and you’ve got a million reasons to be; the least I can do is be here for you.”

You’re not quite aware of the how you get there, your awareness so fractured and distorted, but you end up sitting sideways in his lap, face buried into his chest as he wraps both his arms around you. Your apartment is almost silent aside from your cries and the words of comfort he murmurs into your hair.

Despite the heavy pain in your chest, you’ve never felt safer.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit like that, but eventually, you tire out, no more tears left to cry, your sobs now quiet sniffles. “You okay?”

You nod against his chest, a wave of exhaustion settling over you after the intense, continuous waves of emotion. “What time is it?” Your voice is so weak, even you wince at the sound, and one of his arms leaves you as reaches over to grab his phone from the coffee table.

“It’s getting close to midnight… do you want me to start heading out?” he asks very hesitantly, not wanting to leave you in your current state.

You falter for a moment, second guessing every word you’re about to say. “Could you, um,” with a shallow breath, you continue, “could you stay tonight? I understand if you can’t, with like, plans and things tomorrow, and um…” You lose track of where you were going with those words, and just let them trail off into nothing.

“Yeah, I can stay,” he says quietly, still holding you close despite your slackened grip on his shirt. “We should probably get you to bed, though.”

“Probably,” you murmur, sleep already seeping into your voice and he laughs softly. With only minimal help from him, you stand up, weakly pulling him along with you. You don’t let go of his hand for a second as you make your way to your room, shuffling your feet across the hardwood floor. “Thank you for coming over, Danny.”

“Of course, anytime, (y/nn).”

It doesn’t surprise him when you walk into your room and let go of his hand to immediately crawl under the duvet on your bed, not even bothering to change into pajamas. “Sleep tight, sunshine.”

He starts making his way out of the room, but you call out a soft, “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you be okay with, um, lying down with me for a bit?” Your voice is heavy with exhaustion, but seeing your expression, he knows you’re alert enough to understand what you’re saying. “You don’t have to.”

He hesitates for a moment before walking around to the other side of the bed, lifting up the duvet cover and sliding in next to you. The queen bed is big enough that he’s not touching you, but just his presence is comforting enough.

“Thank you,” you murmur, curling up under the duvet. “Goodnight, Dan.”

“Goodnight, (y/n),” he says, almost teasingly considering how sleepy you are. He, on the other hand, will probably be awake for another hour or so, and all he can think about is how he hopes to god your thoughts will let you rest for at least these next few days. You deserve a break.

He has no idea how to react when you unconsciously curl up against his side, but he’s glad he can provide some kind of comfort to you, even in slumber.