Sam should've had some of his powers later in the show. Generally, this arc was handled horribly later because wdym he just. Lost them. I know it was because of the demon blood but it doesn't change the fact that he had these powers since he was a child. Canonically. He should have at least a little bit of supernatural talents. Maybe he got a little headache every time a demon was near. Or he had prophetic dreams to the following day - nothing too fancy, he just knew Dean would break a bowl at dinner so in the morning he went to the shop and bought a new one. It would be so funny for him to just use demonic talents in everyday life. Slowing down the fall of his favourite cup so it wouldn't break; carrying a bottle of painkillers every time Crowley's around; making sure to lock the cabinet with sweets because he had a vision of Dean eating his protein candy bar.
can i please request a reader x sam where the reader is thin and feels insecure about it? like, everyone sees them and says, “oh, but everyone wishes they had a body like yours!” or “hmm, maybe you should eat more,” and it’s awkward and annoying. like, they feel uncomfortable with the way their clothes look on their body and all that
xoxo mwak
Neutral Ground
Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader (gn)
Warnings: None, just fluff, body neutrality, and body acceptance.
An: Thank you for the request! Hope you enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
Word count: 1.1k
You'd heard it your whole life.
"You're so lucky, I wish I had your body."
"You should eat more, you're wasting away."
"Do you even eat?"
"I wish I was as thin as you."
"You look like a strong wind could knock you over."
People thought they were being nice. Complimentary, even. They'd say things with a smile, like they were telling you something you should be grateful to hear.
But it never felt like a gift.
It felt like being seen as something other than a person. That your body was public property, something to be commented on and evaluated.
Oh, and the worst part? You couldn't even complain. Because if you did, people would roll their eyes and say, "Oh, poor you, everyone wishes they had your problems."
So you did stop complaining. You'd smile and nod and let the comments wash over you.
But they never really stopped hurting.
❚█══█❚
It was late. The motel room was quiet, Dean was out getting food, and you were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands.
"Hey," Sam said softly, settling next to you. "You okay?"
"Fine." Your voice was flat. "Just tired."
"You've been quiet."
"I'm always quiet."
"Not like this."
You didn't answer. You couldn't, because if you opened your mouth, you were going to start crying, and you didn't want to do that in front of him.
Sam just waited. He was patient like that.
"I hate my body," you finally said. The words came out small, barely above a whisper.
Sam's expression didn't change. He just tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.
"People are always commenting on it. 'You're so thin,' 'You should eat more,' 'I wish I looked like you.' Like it's…" You gestured vaguely. "Like I should be grateful."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is." You laughed bitterly. "And I can't even complain, because everyone thinks it's a compliment."
"I know what that's like," he said quietly, taking your hand.
"You do?"
"I'm tall." He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his face. "People comment on it constantly. 'You're so tall,' 'How's the weather up there,' 'Do you play basketball.' Like it's the only thing they see."
"Oh, I mean, that's not the same."
"It's not the same. But I understand what it's like to have your body be something people feel entitled to comment on."
You looked at him and felt something in your chest loosen.
"I just want to feel normal," you said. "I want to look in the mirror and not feel...wrong."
"You're not wrong."
"I know that. Logically." You sighed. "But it doesn't feel that way."
Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then he shifted closer, his shoulder pressing against yours.
"Can I tell you something?" he asked.
You nodded.
"I think bodies are just...bodies," he said. "They're the thing we live in. They're not good or bad. They just are."
"That's very philosophical."
"I've had a lot of time to think about it." He smiled. "When you're my size, people assume things about you. That you're strong, that you're intimidating, that you're dangerous. And sometimes that's useful. But sometimes it's just...exhausting."
"How do you deal with it?"
"I remind myself that their opinions aren't my problem." He squeezed your hand. "My body is mine. It's not for them to comment on. It's just the thing that carries me through the world."
"That's easy to say."
"I know." He laughed softly. "It's harder to believe, but it gets easier."
❚█══█❚
Sam started helping you see your body differently.
Not in a cheesy, dramatic way. Not with forced compliments or empty reassurances. He just...existed with you. Like he'd hold your hand, pull you close, rest his chin on the top of your head.
"I like holding you," he said once. "You fit perfectly against me."
"I'm small."
"You're the perfect size for cuddling."
You laughed. "That's not a thing."
"It's a thing. Well, get this, I'm making it a thing."
Then he'd wrap his arms around you, his big frame enveloping yours, and for a moment you felt safe.
❚█══█❚
You'd had a bad day.
Someone at the store had commented, a "harmless" little comment about how you "could use a few more meals." You smiled and nodded and then gone home and cried.
Sam had found you on the bed, curled up in a ball, your face buried in the pillow.
"Hey," he said softly, sitting beside you. "What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Something happened."
"It was stupid."
"It's not stupid if it made you cry..."
And you told him. The words had spilled out, all messy and broken, and Sam had listened without interrupting.
"I hate it," you said. "I hate that it still fucking gets to me."
"Of course it gets to you," he said, rubbing your back gently. "It's been getting to you your whole life. You can't just unlearn that overnight, sweetheart."
"I should be over it by now..."
"No. You shouldn't try to put that expectation on yourself..." He shook his head. "You're allowed to feel things, especially the inconvenient ones."
"That's very wise." You snorted.
"I've had a lot of practice." He smiled. "Come here, baby."
He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. His hand was on your back, tracing slow circles, and you'd let yourself relax into him.
"I love you," he murmured. "And I love your body, because it's yours. It's the body that holds the person I love. That makes it perfect."
"You don't have to…"
"I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because it's true."
"Thank you," you said softly.
"For what?"
"For being patient. For understanding. For not making me feel like I'm broken."
"You're not broken." He kissed your forehead. "You're human."
❚█══█❚
The healing was slow.
You still had bad days. Days when the comments got under your skin. Days when you looked in the mirror and felt wrong. Days when you wished your body was different.
But those days were getting fewer and shorter.
And on the good days, you'd look in the mirror and see something else. A person. A good-looking person. A person who was loved. A person who was enough.
"The comments are still annoying," you said one night, curled up in Sam's arms.
"I know."
"But they don't hurt as much."
"That's progress."
"Yeah." You smiled warmly. "I guess it is."
Sam softly kissed you, and you'd let yourself sink into it.
attaching something to an email is so scary. what if i accidentally put hard-core porn in there. i don't think i have any downloaded but what if i do and i attached it to the email. what then.
need a hat that says I WONT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO AND ITS NOT BECAUSE IM DISINTERESTED AND DONT LIKE YOU I JUST DONT UNDERSTAND SOCIAL INTERACTION AS WELL AS MOST PEOPLE AND ASSUME BY DEFAULT MY PRESENCE IS UNWELCOME AS A PRECAUTIONARY MEASURE SO I KEEP TO MYSELF BUT I DONT MIND IF YOU INITIATE so i can wear it to work
How I feel reading anything Supernatural x reader bc I genuinely have no survival instinct and they would probably hate me in real life because I sing when I’m nervous and I would jump at the sound of a fart.
summary: dorian valued friendship more than love, and you couldn't help but respect him for that. that's why you wanted to be his friend in this house full of dateables. little did he know his friendship can blossom into something he never expects.
warnings: friends to lovers, slight angst(?), confessions, men loving men. grammatical errors, english is not my first language.
a/n: feel free to let me know what you feel about this oneshot, i don't play the game because i'm broke as hell. i would watch streams instead to study this door. enjoy!
Meeting Dorian for the first time was nerve-wracking.
Skylar insisted that you should talk to one of your doors or any doors around the house to demonstrate how the dateviators work. She didn't even give you the time to mourn over your job being replaced by artificial technology. On literally your first day of work.
But, dateviators? Silly, right? The ability to speak to objects was impossible, let alone date them. You were skeptical at first, but you then decided to give it a shot. It's not every day to receive something like this anyway.
That's how you immediately came face to face with his cold expression and stern eyes. Your door. The very same door that you bought while renovating this house and claim it as yours.
You were sure you're still in the comforts of your home.
However, the tall stranger before you was entirely different. He looked like a door, your front door, but… humanized? How in the world. The stranger was clad in black with the edges of his jacket looking like doorframe pillars, and he was wearing a doorknob watch too. He was guarding the door like a stern bouncer, and it seems that he already is one.
“No funny business. I don't want to see those spectacles of yours being used for something untoward.”
You almost held a hand on your chest in shock. Why in the world does your door have a deep, British accent?
He watched you with such intensity that you wanted to shrink away, but you didn't. You stood your ground. This was your door for heaven's sake. Before something escalated, Skylar managed to step in-between you, giving Dorian her salutations.
“Hey, Dorian! Trust me, this is going to go super well!” She beamed, she was rather excited in contrast to Dorian's expression.
There was a smirk on his lips as his eyes flickered from her to you. “Are you sure about that?”
“I'm still… trying to comprehend what's going on.” You shrugged. Feeling a tad bit small under his scrutinizing gaze.
How did everything end up like this?
However, it's been a week since your first introductions. Not only to the door but your phone, magnifying glass, and bed as well. You can still remember your embarrassment when you found out you were sleeping on a beautiful woman this entire time. One of the inanimate people who have seen you in your vulnerable moments.
But Betty, the sweetheart she is, assured you that she was fine by it. Thank goodness.
You've learned quite a lot of things over the week. About the dateviators, and Dorian especially. The sole authority of the house that ensures nothing bad will happen under his watch. Keeping the good ones in, and the bad ones out.
It wasn't a surprise when you learned he's a big defender of friendship and treasures it instead of love.
That's because, to him, love is the center of all conflicts.
Honestly, you highly respected his philosophy. It also makes sense. After all, he's a door. If you put it metaphorically as a self-insert writer, doors meant he wasn't the open type. You speculated that he's a closed door who conceals a vulnerable part of himself. Hence, his guarded personality.
Not only that, but he gives it his all to protect everyone in the house and that includes you. How can you not respect him?
You have never looked someone in high regard before, and you're glad it was Dorian. That's when you started to respect his boundaries and decided to be his friend. He wasn't against the idea of course, it was his intention from the start and you've never been more glad.
“The neighbor's dog pissed on your lawn again.” In a gruff voice, he raised a brow at the said owner and dog that walked by your house. As if they hadn't done anything wrong.
“What?! Again?” You popped beside him and looked out the window.
He nodded. “It’s the third time this week. I kept my count.”
“I might have to take care of that before my lawn smells.” You dragged your hand across your face, face-palming. “Thanks, anyways.”
Dorian snickered when your shoulders sagged and took the dateviators off, a groan leaving your lips. You spent most of your afternoon trying to clean the lawn and save it from the smell of dog piss. Meanwhile, Dorian was enjoying your struggle and groans of complaints like a good friend he is.
“I know you're laughing at me, Dorian!”
For once, the door chuckled. All because of your misery.
There was one thing you didn't realize though, and it happened when you're trying to take a shower. Your day proceeds like any other day, either after or before the dateviators. Although, after knowing that everything in the house is sentient, you became quite self-conscious of yourself.
You would often hesitate to use one of them. Either you're eating or sleeping, and anything else. Your daily business in the bathroom is probably the most vulnerable state that you would expose yourself to.
You hoped Johnny wouldn't mind you showering, since cleaning around the house was causing you to break a sweat.
Which leads you to enter the ground floor bathroom, your towel in hand and some other toiletries that you picked from upstairs. Johnny already has most of them so you don't have to fret for anything.
You stripped and pulled your shirt off of you first. You can't understand why you struggled for a moment once the hem went over your head, but you paid it no mind. You neatly fold your shirt and set it aside from getting it wet. You can already feel the bathroom chill on your exposed torso.
“Are you forgetting something?” You heard Dorian's gruff voice by the door and you let out a noise of confusion.
“Forgetting what?” Dorian seems to catch your clueless head and nods at the shower stall at the corner. You follow him, and see Johnny leaning to his mic with a smirk on his lips. Confused, you turned to Dorian again to ask for his help.
The door can almost see the question marks starting to pop above you.
He raised a brow. You raised yours.
“Wh-? Oh… Oh!”
Embarrassment immediately flooded your senses and you flush. You didn't even realize that you still had the dateviators on. It makes sense when you're struggling to pull your shirt off earlier.
“Wow, I didn't even notice!” You sheepishly scratched your neck and Dorian seemed pleased when you finally did. The dateviators had become your eyes at this point for how much you spent time with it and the others.
“I don't mind sharing the moment with you, sweet papa! But I wouldn't want to spoil your fun. Uh-huh!” You turned to Johnny who offered you a wink as you thanked him with a light chuckle.
“Thanks for letting me know.” You beamed and Dorian nodded in response.
“Of course. I am the ground floor bathroom door after all. Do enjoy.”
His exact words kept replaying in your mind that day, and despite failing to notice the dateviators during that interaction, you did realize something else instead.
It was Dorian, and the many Dorians around the house. The bathrooms, the front door, the back door, and so much more. Just how many doors does the house have again?
“I kinda forgot…” You muttered under your breath. Deep in thought.
This led you to come up with a mission. It was to interact with every version of Dorian around the house at all costs. Oh, you couldn't wait to make fun of him after he enjoyed your suffering. The smell of dog piss actually lingered on your arm for a couple of hours that day and you can really feel the intense smirk he gave you from his hinges.
It wouldn't hurt to have some fun.
The other day arrived, and front Dorian seemed to notice a little bounce on your step than usual. He wondered what got you excited but unbeknownst to him, it wasn't what he had in mind.
“Running off, are we?” He asked once you came down the stairs. He wanted to ask if you're spending the time with the others. Obviously you would, of course. He just wanted to be subtle.
“That's because I have a mission to do.” You grinned in playful smugness. A dramatic hand was on your chest.
He raised a brow. “Oh yeah? Do tell, friend.”
“That's the point… I can't tell you!” You waved a hand dismissively and let a chuckle escape you. “See you later, Dorian!”
With that, Dorian watched with a raised brow as you stormed off in a hurry to the kitchen. You seemed so enthusiastic about your mission, and he just hoped you won't get into trouble.
Little did he know, he could already feel a small twinge forming in his chest.
You immediately found the difficulty of meeting the other Dorians since you only get to meet them once a day. However, you didn't bother to stop, rather, it excites you even more to see his various forms.
It was actually a fun and exciting experience than what you've imagined. It's as if all of them were one and the same, but were split into different parts of him.
The gym door admits that he was eager to see you strengthen yourself, while the bedroom closet thanked you by separating Harper from Dirk or what the clean laundry claims to be as Clarence. It was for the best to separate them for every once in a while, everyone deserves peace from the shouting. Aside from the bedroom closet, there was also the bedroom Dorian himself.
That's not all though. The attic Dorian has weirdos in his room and you had suspected it was Artt, Hector and Memoria in there. Then the electric closet Dorian, who warned you about the miscreants that he kept in there, despite you already knowing who the so-called miscreants are.
Every Dorian looked the same, if it wasn't for the ironing board closet. Now imagine to your surprise when you see the smallest Dorian you have ever seen with a big head. He was so small he needed to stand on a stool.
You fought back your laughter when he spoke in his usual deep British voice, finding it hilarious. Even the small Dorian can hear you snickering from a mile away, yet he does nothing. Knowing that you meant no harm.
“I'm still a door. Not a cabinet. Not a hatch. A door, and just as much as the rest of them.” Says the smallest Dorian.
Dorian was surprisingly not the stern and cold door you ought him to be. It was refreshing to witness the other sides of him and you were quite enjoying yourself conversing with them as well.
But there were also doors who were solemn to have small spaces or scared of being forgotten. Just like the office closet and laundry closet Dorians whom you found sulking when you approached them.
You were unaware that your house had so many doors until you met dozens of them, seventeen to be exact. You didn't regret talking to them one bit. You just hoped your constant visits and lending them your ears can give them the company they need. Greeting them with a genuine smile once you approach them.
How can you resist? You always feel a great sense of urgency when they need something. That's what a good friend would do, helping out a friend in need.
Your mission went on for several days due to the many doors this house has, and the more you were busy, the more front Dorian noticed. He was starting to question your absence. You don't usually proceed with your day without greeting him first and then bleed his ears out with your current fixations.
You're always there to greet him whenever you pass by. Sometimes you talk about things that were relevant with his work or ask him questions about the house, even though he doesn't have much to talk about.
You would always stand there beside him, pleased with your conversation no matter how bland it’d be. You don’t pry on him and you certainly don't force himself to open up. You were patient.
Like what a good friend would do.
But… What if his perception of you has changed?
He would always see the glimpse of your hair or your arm strutting to who knows where. Whether it would be upstairs or downstairs. Watching you talk with the others with that dopey grin on your lips would trigger the same little twitch that tightens in his chest.
It was slow but it was there. He can't simply acknowledge it that easily.
Every hour once the day started, he would grow anxious, and he was so good at keeping it to himself like how it's always been. Did he somehow show the slightest bit of annoyance while you rambled? If he did, then he's sorry. He'll try harder and better at paying attention next time.
If it means for him to have something to look forward to, he'll gladly lend his ear just for you.
“Damn it all…” A breathy grunt escaped Dorian.
A hand made its way to his mouth, covering them as if he had confessed to a crime. It’s not like he acknowledged or admitted it. No, he didn't, but he did think about it. It was there, present and persistent to come to light.
Dorian can only shove those thoughts to the back of his head. You were his friend, and a damn good one at that. Whoever this person you choose, who's undeserving of your love, he'll promise to be there for you. Even if his chest tightens and his hinges rusts.
Because that's what a good friend would do.
Hurried and muffled footsteps caused Dorian's ears to perk up. He looked over to where it was and saw you exiting your office instead, closing the door rather harshly than before. You looked like you were out of breath, you were chasing for it, and that's when he immediately knew something happened.
The way your hands anxiously reached your face to smoothen the stress, and how you let your full weight lean back against the door. Your legs felt numb and weak to carry your weight. If Dorian hadn't looked closely, he would’ve missed the intense blush washing over you like a damn bloodbath.
You were downright flushed and it confuses him even more.
Dorian would've asked what happened but he can't talk to you. Not when the dateviators are dangerously secured in your grip. Yet he flinches when both of you make eye contact, knowing well you can't see him without the glasses. He was appalled whilst your eyes widened in response.
There's no way you know he's watching you right?
You were actually thinking the same thing, horrified that Dorian was in the hall and watching you. That's when you clumsily straightened your posture before you ran upstairs in a hurry. Leaving Dorian with a worried Skylar, the woman watching as you left.
“Who’s the bloke that forced themselves on him?” He asked with narrowed eyes, his voice were firm along with his protective demeanor. Meanwhile, his hands formed into fists. Your expression was far from normal.
“It’s nothing like that.” Skylar shook her head. “He was really determined to talk to every door in the house for the past few days and…”
Dorian's eyes widened at the pink-haired woman’s words and for a moment, his breath hitch as a hushed whisper. The sudden heat that was creeping on his face didn't even help.
He knew where this was going and he let Skylar continue.
“And [m/n]... might've encountered the trapdoor under the rug.”
It's been two days ever since then, and you were acting quite normally than what Skylar had intended you to be. The poor dateviators couldn't help but worry at the tired expression on your face with dark circles under your eyes, implying that you haven't slept a wink.
It seems she wasn't the only one. Everyone was quick to notice your slumped posture and exhausted eyes, you weren't even eating properly these days and it concerns them. You were always stuck in a daze whenever you're with an object, absentmindedly nodding along and offering a sluggish reply.
“Amore mio, shall I ask for Mitchell to make something for you?” Cabrizzio would ask whenever you would take a glass from him to quench your thirst, and you would decline.
“Ah. I'm not hungry. Thanks anyways, Cabrizzio.”
“My processors think it's best for you to rest your eyes for a while. You can always continue writing once you wake up…” Mac suggests when they found you staring at your desktop screen rather intently, eyes bloodshot.
“Don't worry, Mac. My eyes are still intact.”
“Would you like me to freshen your face tonight, dear? I have just the perfect face mask that I want you to try out.” Offered by Barry and despite his warm smile, you would shake your head.
“Maybe for another time, Barry. Thank you though.”
It was one after the other whenever the objects would express their worries, and you would always find an excuse to get yourself out of it. All of them had watched you neglecting your health for days now, and you wouldn't let them intervene. Either with the dateviators or not.
It was already obvious that something was bothering you, but they couldn't grasp what. And Dorian had enough of it. He had enough seeing you destroy yourself over time. He had enough of the bitter taste when you're trying to avoid him.
The truth has to come out either way.
“I'll talk to him.” He says when he found himself standing in-between Betty and Skylar who were talking about your sleep. You already retreated to your bedroom a few minutes earlier and Betty knew you were struggling to sleep either way.
“Really?” Skylar stood in agape.
“He's been at it for a while now. We have to talk either way.” Dorian said and hoped he could find the right words. It's been so long since he opened up to anyone and yet he knew from the back of his mind, you're worth opening up to.
Betty smiled softly at him. “Don't worry… I'll make sure to let Amir and the others know to give you some privacy.”
The bedroom was cascaded in pitch darkness, letting you find comfort in the cold void and the shadows. You couldn't sleep and you were struggling to do so. Your thoughts would always keep you awake every night and it forces you to ponder literally everything.
The dateviators, the silly mission… and Dorian.
You don't want to admit it, and you don't want to acknowledge it. There was only shame and embarrassment whenever you thought of it, especially after you discovered the trapdoor in your office. Everything you felt about Dorian came crashing like bricks.
Fuck. Well, there goes your best friend of the year award.
You were supposed to be his friend. Just his friend. Your thoughts drowned you to the trenches and couldn't help that there was something blossoming within you. It was so wrong to feel like this to someone who sees you as their friend, let alone unable to reciprocate.
There was a knock.
“May I come in?”
You immediately went quiet upon hearing the familiar voice waiting for your response right behind the door. You almost cursed to yourself for letting this happen. For letting these feelings happen. Although, you know you can't run away from him forever.
“Go ahead…” Your reply was hushed, and that was all it took before the door of your bedroom opened, letting the hallway lights peek into the darkness of your dim-lighted room.
Dorian, once he entered, saw your silhouette sitting at your bedside. Your shoulders slumped and your hair sticking in all kinds of directions.
It was already a mistake to let him in. You still haven't found the slightest bit of courage to face him by how your head was hung low, afraid to see Dorian eye-to-eye. Along with the nonexistent strength of admitting your feelings to him. There was only quiet, and it was the opposite of peaceful.
“I came here to apologize.” His voice cuts through the awkward silence that makes you flinch. Your eyes widened and you didn't dare to meet his sunken ones.
“What are you apologizing for?” It came as a mutter, Dorian almost couldn't hear you but he stood firm.
“For making you uncomfortable… Skylar told me what happened.” Dorian watched you shake your head.
“I wasn't uncomfortable.” You raked a hand over your scalp. You didn't even realize what you said and didn't notice the way Dorian's eyes widened. Too engrossed on your feet trying to avoid the burning gaze from him.
You sighed, still not meeting his gaze. “I was going to tell you eventually, the mission or whatsoever. It was supposed to be for fun and games between us friends. Teasing and joking, it's what we usually do. It's what friends do…”
Dorian stood silent, hoping for your lips to spill the truth. But what came out of you was the opposite, and the least of what he was expecting.
“I don't think we can be friends anymore, Dorian.”
From how intact your words were, he was uncertain how to react. Your voice didn't waver and he wasn't sure if you were lying or not. All he knew was he couldn't let you end your friendship like this. Everything was going smoothly between you before, and he doesn't want to lose that.
Just the thought of it makes his fist clench.
“Why is that?” His voice came out as harshly as he intended to, and the look on your face contorted to frustration and pain. Guilt swelled in him and you exhaled shakily.
“Look…” Your voice was as brittle as old paper. “I care for you, I respect you a lot. I wanted to be the friend that you'll rely on and yet, for every passing moment I spent with you, or clearly the other forms of you, it made me feel I was crossing a line more than it should have…”
Your words hung in the air for a moment. The confession clothed in painful restraint.
Dorian's brows furrowed gently. “What do you mean?"
Your breath shakily hitched. Voice dropped to a whisper.
“How does one burn for someone who doesn't feel the same?”
Silence. Dorian stood by the doorframe in shock and all he wanted to do was to approach you. He did. It was slow and quiet enough to avoid startling you in such a vulnerable state with your hands trying to hide it. Roaming around your face to ease the overwhelming crease of your brows.
You squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to let time freeze, not noticing Dorian closing in on you. “These feelings kept coming back no matter how I pushed them away. And now I feel like I'm ruining our friendship, and I don't want that… That's literally the last thing I wanted!”
Your voice cracked at the end. Yet there were no tears but instead an ache on your throat, twisting your airways and trying not to break.
Then, quietly, you heard a reply.
“It doesn't have to be.”
“Huh..?” You snapped your eyes open, startled. But what was more startling was his face popping on your field of vision, and he was kneeling before you to match your height.
Dorian's gaze was steady. Soft, yes, but unwavering. His own voice trembled just slightly, as if they, too, were pushing past walls he had spent years trying to maintain his guard. To protect himself from unwanted intruders.
“I’ve been pondering the same thoughts for a while now.” Dorian said as his brows furrowed. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to hurt you, nor break your trust. But… I don’t think that label fits us well anymore.”
Your lips parted in a shake of disbelief. “Dorian, just don't. The last thing I wanted was to force yourself to open up to me. Please… If you’re saying this out of pity—”
“Who says I was forcing myself?” The immediate sharpness of Dorian's tone startled you both. It wasn't anger, there were no traces of it. Instead it was a trace of clarity.
“This is the perfect time to come clean. Don't you think so?” You bit your lip and felt the bottom flesh ache, and you didn't disagree with him.
The door's expression softened, and he slowly leaned forward leaving a little space between your foreheads. His voice was quieter now, almost reverent.
“Every minute you spend talking to me or helping my needs… It only proves that I can rely on others.” His eyes met yours and continued. “That I can rely on you… You taught me more than anyone else that a good relationship can blossom through friendship.”
You blinked slowly, the weight of his feelings was starting to catch up to you in full. Blood rushed to your ears when you could feel your heart battering against your ribcage.
“...What are you saying?” You croaked.
Meanwhile, Dorian looked at you like he had been waiting to say this.
“I'm saying…” He exhaled. “You weren't the only one who's afraid but I don't want to be afraid anymore.”
He reached out, slowly and deliberately, with his hand hovering near yours that was placed still on your knee. Not touching, not quite. You guessed what he was about to do and you waited when Dorian spoke again.
“So if you’ll let me… I'd like to be something more with you. Not in spite of our friendship.” That was when a smile made its way to Dorian's lips. “But because of it.”
Your eyes widened along with your fingers twitching before you let it reach and slowly curling into his. Your fingers were linked now. Lightly, as though one quick movement might break it. But neither of you pulled away.
You stared at the point of contact like it wasn't real. Like you were dreaming again, those sleepless nights or half-asleep moments where you wanted him here with you. But this wasn't a dream. This was now. Here.
“...I don't want to pretend anymore.” You weakly muttered with a small grin and watched your calloused thumb caress his hand.
Dorian's eyes softened. His other hand reached out and gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear that had managed to escape. This allowed you to look at him, your eyes gazing at each other.
“You don't have to, handsome.” He whispered. “You never had to.”
And suddenly, the silence wasn't heavy anymore. It was full of warmth. The space between you had always been small but now there was no distance left to bridge.
You leaned forward hesitantly and Dorian did the same until his lips finally sealed with yours. Dorian immediately savored every skin and warmth, your lips were slightly chapped but so tender against his.
The kiss wasn’t urgent nor desperate. Just real.
It lingered, warm and full of everything he'd never dared say until now. And when you finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together, you both exhaled like something had finally been set free.
Dorian watched you chuckle, truly chuckle, for the first time in days. All he wanted now was to experience your firsts with him. Despite being both men, you both didn’t make a big deal out of it. Everything will work in the end.
“Hmm, I haven't seen you this close before.” Your voice was gentle with your eyes trailing to every edge of Dorian's face. He was handsome and you were a fool for not noticing it before.
Meanwhile Dorian somehow felt exposed, and he loved every bit of it. Being this close to your handsome and charming face has never been anything but a dream. The homeowner, whom he admired from afar, was finally his.
“We have all the time in the world, love.”
“You're right. I can live with that.”
That's all he needed to know.
a/n: this is over 4.7k words... please eat it up. i still have dishes to do and it's 3am. thank you for reading and stay tuned for more m!reader fics!
With how professional Dorian is, he tends to wake up at a set time. If he works that day, then he won't be up until later in the day, around 5 pm or so. If he's having an off-day/week, then he'll get up early in the morning. These mornings are so slow and honestly really lovely. Dorian's favorite thing is to feel skin to skin contact, especially after becoming human. He can hold you as tight as he wants to and love up on you. He's a generous and attentive man, so your needs never go unheard.
Those idle hands caress every curve, dip, and crevice of your body while lips pepper your neck, shoulder, and jaw with the brush of his beard. Dorian would give anything to kiss you, but the morning breath would argue otherwise, so he saves you the horrid experience and simply settles for these kinds of kisses instead. He adores waking you up with those kisses, seeing your eyes flutter open as he kisses up to your ear to whisper a gentle, "Good morning." all before continuing to kiss you. You swear you could fall right back asleep and almost do, but you want to stay at least a little awake for Dorian.
If you're wearing one of his shirts to bed, oh, expect not to leave the bed. Dorian wants to keep you there and admire you in that shirt of his. He's more of a man to speak through actions, but he doesn't mind saying a few words while fingertips drag along your body and slip under the shirt.
"I should have you wear my shirts more often."
"Gorgeous/Handsome. Just absolutely stunning, love."
