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katsu28 · 5 months ago

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hi there! i absolutely lovee your writing, it's so cute and beautiful!! i hope you're having a good day/night <3

can i make a request for Carlos + holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, before leaning in for a kiss?

thank you so much, and please take your time, there's no rush! thank you for writing so well, and feeding into F1 fans' delusions! :) sending lots of love and hugs! 🤍

you are so sweet, thank you!! hope you enjoy <3

carlos sainz x reader, 1.2k.

You can’t sleep.

It’s four in the morning and you should be asleep because you’re exhausted and you have a flight in a few hours, but you’re so nervous that you can’t for the life of you bring yourself to close your eyes.

You’re flying to Madrid with Carlos to spend the first week of summer break with his family, and to say he’s excited is an understatement. He hasn’t seen his family in ages. The first thing he did when you told him you got some time off work during the break was propose that the two of you take a trip to his home city for a little bit.

You, on the other hand, well, you feel like you’re about to shit a brick. This is the first time you’ll be meeting his family. You’re not typically a nervous person, but this has got your stomach tied up in knots.

It’s not something you can really talk to Carlos about either, not without bringing up your hesitation. Realistically, you’re probably just overthinking things, but as you stare up at the ceiling for what seems like forever and glancing over at the clock to see that it’s really only been a few minutes, you give up on sleep.

Beside you, Carlos snores like there’s no tomorrow, barely moving a muscle as you slip out from under the covers and leave the room as quiet as you can. He’s always been a heavy sleeper.

You pad out to the living room, sinking onto the large sofa with a defeated sigh. It’s quiet this time of day—too quiet for your liking. The city of Monte Carlo is asleep. Not even the birds are awake right now, but then again, neither should you.

This trip has gotten you all out of sorts lately. When Carlos had first confirmed it with his family, you didn’t think it would affect you that much. Meeting people was nothing new to you, and not to toot your own horn or anything, but you always did well with past significant other’s families.

As the trip grew closer, however, you started to worry. This isn’t just anyone’s family you’re meeting, this is Carlos’ family. The family of the man you know you want to spend the rest of your life with. The family who made that man into who he is today, who loves him just as much, if not more than you love him.

Making a good first impression with them is an immense amount of pressure, and you’re definitely feeling it.

Absentmindedly, you switch on the TV. You don’t even want to watch anything, you just need something on so you don’t think yourself into the ground before the sun comes up. Nothing good is on at this time either, so you settle on some nature documentary about sea turtles to drown out the noise.

“What are you doing?”

You startle, tearing your eyes away from the TV to see Carlos standing in the hallway, half shrouded by darkness, squinting at you through sleepy eyes. His hair is flat on one side from his pillow, and he’s scratching his chest absentmindedly as a yawn rips through him.

You’re not even sure how long you’ve been watching turtles swim, but one glance out the large windows across from you tells you that it’s been a while, because the sky is starting to brighten beyond the horizon.

You mute the channel, pressing your lips together guiltily. “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, Carlos.”

“You didn’t,” He mumbles, shuffling towards you. “I woke up and you weren’t next to me. Got worried. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just couldn’t sleep.” There must be something different in your voice you don’t hear that Carlos does, because he cocks his head, suddenly looking wide awake.

“Something is bothering you,” He says matter-of-factly, narrowing his eyes at you. You open your mouth to protest, but he’s quick to fill the silence before you can even utter a word. “You can’t tell me it’s nothing because if it was, we would not be having this conversation right now. We would still be asleep.”

He’s looking at you like he sees right through you, so you know there’s no point in trying to make up some excuse. You sigh, shoulders sagging. “It’s stupid.”

Carlos crouches down in front of you, tilting his head. “If it’s bothering you this much, it isn’t stupid. Talk to me, corazón, let me help you.”

“What if your family hates me?” You blurt, fidgeting with the blanket across your lap. “What if they think you could do better, what if they think I’m not good enough for you, or—”

“Look at me,” He says softly, holding his hands out to you, palms up. You sigh, but oblige anyways, sliding your hands into his outstretched ones. He squeezes once, twice, then a third time. “You are thinking too much into it.”

“I know, I know, I just—I can’t help it. I really want them to like me.”

“My family will love you, I know it already.”

“How are you so sure?” You whine, shoulders sagging. Your chin drops down towards your chest only for a second before Carlos tuts, bringing your gaze back to his with just a sound. Big, beautiful, melty chocolate brown eyes stare back at you, perfect lips turned down into a frown. “What? It’s possible.”

“No, it is not. I’m very happy with you, and if I am happy, they are happy. They only want the best for me, and that is you.”

“Carlos…” You whine, pouting at him with teary eyes.

“What? What did I say wrong?” He looks panicked, brows flying up in immediate concern. His hands squeeze yours again, though a little tighter this time. “I thought I was being quite romantic.”

“You’re so sweet to me.”

His face melts into a fond smile. “That’s my job as your number one fan, no?”

He grabs your chin gently between his index finger and thumb, studying you for a few beats before pressing his lips against yours gently. You sink into him like you always do, letting your eyes flutter shut as you kiss him back wholeheartedly.

Carlos loves you, and that’s all you need to reassure yourself.

“Now that we have settled that, will you come back to bed? You don’t sleep well on planes, and I know how grumpy you get when you are tired.”

You let him pull you to your feet in lieu of an answer, falling against him as he pulls you under his arm and into his side snugly. “I don’t get that grumpy,” You huff, nudging him in the side. The sharpness of your elbow into his ribs has him letting out a grunt, one that he masks with a snort of laughter.

“You don’t get that grumpy?” He repeats, sounding more than amused. “I seem to remember on the way back from Miami in May when you nearly bit off Lando’s head for waking you up because we were about to land.”

“He dragged us to seven different clubs until five in the morning even though our flight was at six. Were you not grumpy?”

“Yes, but I can hide it well. You are an open book, mi amor, one I know very well.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#requested!#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot

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gotham-daydreams · 6 months ago

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Honestly, in a situation like not [] where they aren't willing to physically hurt the reader but psychologically mess with them? It's fucked but at the same time I have too good of an imagination. When it comes to neglect there's so many aspects of it that could happen and even if I'm pissed I could keep my mouth shut to the point I feel numb.

I mean they can't change you or break you if you just stay in your own head after all? Lil stories in your head to keep you busy, unholy amount of hours spent sleeping. I don't care if I waste away if it means not having to deal with people who won't even listen or admit that it's gonna take time to undo trauma and won't take the proper steps to undo it.

They take things up a notch and limit food or start doing things that prevent you from sleeping? Do it, at least the hat man will be a better friend. Can't break what's not there, the batfam always has this mindset that so long as they get their way that they would do what's necessary but that's entirely because they are all too selfish to actually really respect how you feel. And no amount of bugging me or yelling at me or trying to get a rise out of me will change the fact I can just slip into my mind and ignore it all.

The only way I'd ever stop being in my head and not even wasting time on them is if they actually tried to be genuine in fixing things and admit they fucked up and are doing it out of guilt. Either put down your pride or stay with a reader who will gladly stay tucked away in the crevice of their brain in an imaginary field of flowers with whatever lil character they make to enjoy the time in their head <3

Anyways I love your series and can't wait for more!! Please take care and hydrate!!!

I do agree! Especially in this scenario where they’re way more unwilling to physically hurt the reader, because... well, they want to hear your music! Like a little songbird, just tucked away from the public eye, just for them to hear you sing...

It'll definitely get on their nerves, and some will probably crumble under the pressure - but those that don't aren't actually the ones you should be worried about. I mean, of course they'll try to do everything else they can, and at that point - its a contest of willpower and to see who can outlast the other (and spoiler, most of them will definitely lose), but some are definitely more stubborn than others. After all, their 'love' is spawned out of guilt, obligation, and a messy mix of things that's turned into this ugly beast of a thing they see as love - if you aren't willing to take it, then that's fine, but you definitely aren't getting anything until you do.

Though, again, at some point the time and treatment definitely begins to effect them too. And that’s... not good, especially when some of them are known for their resolve, will, and general ability to withstand so much crap despite not even being superhuman (even if in all honesty, compared to the average guy, they may as well be). Them being insane does not help with that fact.

They'll begin to consider things they wouldn't have even thought of before out of sheer desperation and need. They'll think about it, plan it out a little, and before they even know it - they're losing hours of sleep trying to find ways to actually execute it. Hell - some may even act impulsively, and just flat out do it without giving it a second thought. Because they can't. They can't think. They can't sleep. Not without you - not after another month, another week, another day, another hour, another second without you.

They need it. Need you. Need your warmth, your presence - to feel like they're doing something right, even when its so wrong. Even if they've left you damaged beyond repair, some still want to feel like they can fix you, put you back together... and what better way to feed that delusion then to hold you in their arms? To do all of these things with you... even if you're not mentally there?

At that point, they'd sacrifice never being able to hear your music from you to get that. To have that fabricated connection. They'd give up that one thing that's been keeping them from harming you physically, and go all out.

[Which... descriptions of losing limbs, and general gore under the cut, it's not pretty but not super detailed either? Yes, it's towards the reader. Yes the reader is awake. There is no cut away, but some dancing around using some phrases repeatedly. Consider yourself warned and advised. Even if it's just descriptions - the family isn't playing nice.]

Maybe they'd start small... just a leg, maybe two, not even a foot- your legs from the knee down are going indefinitely. Maybe even the whole thing if certain people do it impulsively, and aren't thinking - aside from the fact that they need you close, but they just have to get these things out of the way. To lessen your struggle, to reassure themselves you won't run, of course - after all, you can't run if they just... take away that option, right? It's for the best, they'd tell themselves, they need to do this. They have to. You gave them no other choice- and now... now they had to make a tough choice. They have to do this.

If it's done impulsively, it's messy. I guess not having a lot of experience cutting off limbs or disabling someone isn't going to make things easier, who knew, am I right? Taking lives (for some of them), and beating people up is one thing, but cutting off arms and legs? It's weird to think about until you're the one doing it, and in a frenzy no less.

Some of the more impulsive ones you really have to look out for, because if they do it then it is painful, and that is no exaggeration. As much as they're thinking about you, they also aren't at the same time - at least not you in the present as they're doing the removal. You'll pass out from pain, or just the visceral sight right before you witness your leg getting torn off. Real messy stuff. It's not subtle at all, they barely hide it - if they even try to allow you that luxury. If anything, you see too much of it. Either way, you're out like a light, and left with whatever you saw as nothing is left to the imagination. Unless your fucked up mind makes it worse, to which- a lot is left to the imagination as that nightmare of a scene is messed with and mixed in your head like a toddler left in the kitchen.

Of course, the family will take care of the messy outcome, and get you to another room and everything (after all, they have one too many spar ones), but, well, that won't change the reality of the situation, will it? Hell, get one of the more rough ones pissed off or just do something one of the more impulsive ones doesn't like, and you'll lose your arms, and depends on who does it - you'll lose them just as you lost your legs, and you'll get to watch... before you pass out, of course.

Maybe they'll get you things to help, like robotic limbs and such, though its not that great and doesn't make things easier. Not even a little. They'll be able to control everything you do, essentially, down to what you can even touch or interact with.

You'll feel more trapped then you ever have before, as even your body, every limb attached to your torso is theirs. Theirs to control. To mess with, and just like before, they'll take it away if you do something that makes them upset.

They'll leave you more than just defenseless.

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #yandere dc #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #not series #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc x reader #cw: gore #cw: descriptions of limb lose #reader discretion advised

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llonelygoddess · 1 year ago

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How they react to...You being good with a sword

A/N: Not my best work but I'm open to feedback!

Characters: Ned Stark, Margaery Tyrell, Sandor Clegane, Sansa Stark, Khal Drogo, Brienne of Tarth, Missandei, Podrick, Jorah Mormont

TW: Horny characters, violence?

Ned Stark: You'd both be out watching Robb, Jon, and Theon practicing with their swords in the court yard. Jon's kicking both of their asses and it's getting hard to watch so you excuse yourself from Ned's side. Walking down to the courtyard, you grab a sword and show them defensive and offensive positions. Ned almost objects as you begin but seeing his kids take your advice so seriously he smiles. If the boys can respect you as a teacher then so could he. Now, He didn't like the idea of you being in a situation where you have to use a sword but knowing you can wield one turns him on lol

Margaery Tyrell: In the life you'd live with Margaery it would be best to keep your talent hidden. It was scandal enough to be courting someone that wasn't a man, but if said person also brandished a sword it would be the hottest gossip of the city. So you save your skills for real emergencies and the first time Margaery sees this she is beyond confused and a little scared. In private she'll thank you for saving her and ask how you learned such a thing.

Sandor Clegane: This guy is the least phased. Like, he's definitely caught off guard by how skilled you are but not much surprises him anymore. He gives you tips every now and then but really believes in your capability. I like to think one of his favorite moments are after you both have had a good fight and you take turns taking care of each other. Wiping the wounds clean, covering them, and then taking a hot bath together ( or separate cause mans is BIG).

Sansa Stark: It kinda depends on which era of Sansa we're talking about. Like if it's younger Sansa than she's probably a little frightened of you but would be dying to hear the stories of how you came to be so good. If it was older Sansa then she's highly impressed and requests for you to be apart of her personal guard. She likely will ask for you to teach her a few things so she can defend herself as well.

Khal Drogo: Man is impressed. He values strength so seeing you with a weapon at all riles him up, but seeing you defend yourself from another Dothraki who spoke against you? He's immediately dragging your ass to bed, or he might just take you in front of everyone.

Brienne of Tarth: <3 Big heart eyes<3 Finally! Someone who can keep up with her. This woman spent her whole life being told that anyone who wasn't a man couldn't possibly wield a sword properly, and after proving that wrong herself it's refreshing to see you also beating the stereotypes. She loves to train with you and teach you things as well as learn from you. After your first real battle together she'll do her best not to hover but you can tell she's stressed out about whether you were hurt or not. Of course she knows you can take care of yourself but she loves you and can't help but worry.

Missandei: As an educated woman and former slave, Missandei never had time ( or the desire) to learn the ways of a sword. When she met you, you were training with Jorah and Grey Worm and she was impressed with how you could keep up with them. From then on, She's always enjoyed watching you train, your strength filling her with pride. She feels content knowing that you can defend yourself and her at any moment.

Podrick: Honestly, he's relieved. I mean, don't get me wrong he'll defend you without a second thought ( it's very hot) but knowing that you can handle yourself in a fight takes the pressure off of him a little. He worries for you, the world you both live in will eat and spit people out and the thought of something happening to you haunts him. He may try to give you tips ( even if you're better than him lol), so just let him help the few ways he can.

Jorah Mormont: You'd both probably meet while working for Daenerys so there's almost an expectation that you'd be good at defending yourself/her. In your first fight together you save him from a sword that nearly took his head off and after that day he begins to see you as more than just another guard.

#ned stark x reader #ned stark #jorah mormont x reader #jorah mormont #podrick payne #podrick x reader #missandei #sansa stark #sansa stark x reader #khal drogo #khal drogo x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth headcanons #margaery tyrell x reader #margaery tyrell

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vigilskeep · 7 months ago

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now that you finished inquisition, what did you think of it? like favorite things, least favorite, etc?

oh man okay

things i love about dragon age inquisition:

capturing the specific feeling of bonding with a group of people you have absolutely nothing in common with because u all had to go through something long and specific together

the maps can be so pretty and in places really calming and lovely to spend time in. it does make me want to explore and i have no explorer’s instinct

i love the war table and judgements i think those are really fun features

i like that approval for many major decisions applies to everyone regardless of who you bring to specific events/quests. it feels a lot less like you have to manage that really hard, as you sometimes do in the other games and also really noticeably to me in something like baldur’s gate 3. it’s irritating when i have to plan ahead and can’t take who i want to hear from

i like how attached you can get to little npcs who wander around

i loveeeee fighting dragons and how beautiful they all are

little puzzles <3

the collectibles are also mostly fine by me i am a magpie by nature. as long as i can find them, obviously, bc if i can’t they suck and this whole game sucks

the templar specialisation is fun and i enjoyed that part of combat a lot. wrath of heaven/spell purge combo is a power trip

i thought my character was pretty :) i defeated u in the end dai character creator. may you be as merciful when we meet in battle once more

i’m not a huge crafter but being able to tint things is rlly nice

blackwall’s romance is good

vivienne is there

they let me briefly tame a dragon at the end there

things i don’t love about dragon age inquisition:

some genuine cruelty in writing the dalish in a way that feels shockingly callous to the real world cultures the writers took inspiration from

never giving the dalish or the rebel mages any kind of voice of their own and making the player do all that work if they care, which i also feel limits my roleplaying creativity

refusing to let you challenge any of the often overwhelmingly conservative views expressed by other characters without receiving only derision and disapproval. inquisition is a game that punishes you at every turn for having your own opinions, in a way that could be interesting if it was willing to truly let you develop complex or antagonistic relationships with those characters, but ends up mostly just feeling mocking when nobody ever even tries to see your side, while simply agreeing with these people always rewards you with content. origins was capable of letting you engage in discussion, and da2 let you form rivalries that mattered; inquisition, despite starring some of the most intentionally controversial characters, does neither

the game engineering conflicts against groups like the freemen of the dales or the avvar that mean nothing to the player and range from vaguely to seriously upsetting in their assumptions about who it’s normal to just start killing en masse. it’s both boring and distressing

odd, for lack of a better word “casting choices”, like having the fantasy impoverished racial minority all be white within the party while the wealthiest and most privileged are characters of colour, or for a more in-world example having the elves express the most distaste towards elves and the mages express the most caution about mages. i don’t know that i quite have the vocabulary to fully discuss why these weird me out, but it all feels... disingenuous? and chosen to forestall criticism based on real world comparisons in a game series that i wish had the nerve to openly confront what it’s talking about if it’s going to try to make any of its conflicts feel relevant

most of the companions, and indeed most of the quests and time spent playing the game, feel disconnected from the main plot. it’s hard to feel any pressure when the game tells you we need to deal with the main plot “right now!” and “get there before corypheus!” when the bulk of the game is doing other things while you’re supposed to be doing that. the majority of companions could be cut without changing anything. and when you finally want to deal with the main plot you just click to start it. it’s not engaging

the game fails to fully expand dialogue for the player character options it provided, particularly notable with its confusing chantry focus when you’ve said for the dozenth time you’re not andrastian

the 2-handed weapon whirlwind ability sound effect is an exercise in creating the worst and most grating sound effect for someone to constantly hear

they didn’t let me romance vivienne

they killed my dragon :(

#sorry the dislikes are bulky it just takes more words to explain when u dislike something #long post #these r messy sorry if the criticisms are not worded well its late :(

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withoutyouimsaskia · 4 months ago

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 8)

GIF: Originally posted by @darklinsblog

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nightmares. Violence. Dub/non con. Kissing. Nudity. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex. Plot related cigarette use. Language.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hello there! I wasn't intending on posting this chapter until I had the others finished but I guess Tumblr took that decision away from me and published instead of saving! Oh well, guess I'll roll with it. As always, I hope you enjoy and would be very happy to hear your thoughts. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The combination of the darkened clouds and the even more desaturated décor is making the room despairingly claustrophobic.

Sporadic breaths rattle up and down your trachea; a remnant of the fear that had been created by the tail end of that conversation. You are struggling to make sense of the direction it had taken; the barrelling downward spiral whereby you discovered your newfound status.

No longer do you hold the lone title of soulmate. You are a captive.

At least that's what Morpheus made it sound like. The word is shudder inducing and a fresh trickle of bile spills into your mouth.

The door he left through, the one blocking your freedom, you are standing close enough to it that you can see every grain and groove of the ebony wood - and the curious absence of a handle or lock. With a flattened hand you gingerly press against the varnished surface, upping the pressure when you don't appear to have tripped any alarms. There's no movement no matter how hard you push, not that you really anticipated any. Morpheus said locked in for a reason. Regardless, you feel that you needed to try just in case he had changed his mind. Again, an eventuality that you do not expect.

You get the sense that Morpheus' grasp of stubbornness would rival that belonging to a group of at least 100,000 people; he is a ruler, and a centuries-old one at that. Accustomed to being in control, well versed in the art of exerting it.

He's chilling too. That nightmare quality really won out just now. You have seen darkness in his eyes before, (brought on by intense moments including sexual desire) and the effects he can have on the environments surrounding him, but this was a whole new breed.

The deflection. The disdain. The remorselessness. How the shadows had danced around him like crude oil twisting in water, a cloak of obscurity and energy to drive you away and leave you isolated.

And your relentlessness was the catalyst for it being unleashed. You're unsure as to why you brought up the theoretical consequences of refusing to be his soulmate. It had just slipped out. There were numerous other ways in which you could have handled the situation yet that was the conversational path you took.

You shudder again, wrapping your arms around your middle in an attempt to self-soothe. It provides a measure of relief but also draws attention to the fact that he should be doing this. Morpheus should be holding you. Talking this through with you.

Instead he left you standing on the marble floor, the intrinsically endothermic nature of the material causing iciness to seep up your legs via your bare feet.

Seeking warmth, you move back to the bed and dejectedly lie down.

The usual covered plate of food has appeared on the bedside table; your expression is so obviously rattled that you can see every detail despite the metal's distortion. You roll over, not wanting to contemplate eating for even a second.

Your entire body is tense, with epicentres in your tight chest and thought-clogged brain, the latter of which is showing signs of inducing a migraine. You breathe with steady intent, a review of the encounter relentlessly replaying.

One question keeps rising to the surface, getting louder and more insistent with each iteration:

Why was he doing this?

He had said it was to protect you. That it was dangerous outside. Was the dream world suddenly that different now that you had free will? Surely he would have led with that if it were true. Found a way to make it safe...

He's been unfalteringly devoted to you in every other way thus far. The aftercare looked to be proof enough of his character. The reassurance, and explanations during the soul-tying. Holding you. Staying beside you while you slept, even though he did not require the rest himself.

But then there is the distinct lack of sharing, both of his internal and external worlds, and of course the 'it is not your place to do so' comment.

That one really stings. You had been convinced that you were his equal. Yet the way the words fell so easily from his mouth, without hesitation nor any sign of an underpinning emotion - it sounded like a response that was not uttered in the heat of the moment.

How were you to know though?

You've not known him for that long and it's not like you can tell from the bond between you, even now after days of longing to and trying to pick up on something, anything that would inform you of his heart. The one thing you can attempt to read into is the state of the ceiling sky; you are getting a sense that it is linked directly to his moods. Its sudden deterioration the moment you had voiced your concerns couldn't have been a coincidence, could it?

The more you grapple for meaning, the harder you are finding it to reconcile the evidence before you, so conflicted on your opinion of him, of the situation. Yet no amount of speculation and reframing could take away from the few facts you have:

The Fates had told you of an unfathomably long imprisonment that Morpheus had endured and suffered in.

So why was he putting you in a parallel of that?

How can someone who is supposed to be your soulmate be so unreadable to you, and so inexplicably cruel?

You curl into a ball, groaning out loud in frustration.

You ponder if there is something defective within you, if he can see something that you are too human to perceive. Maybe you deserve this on some level because you are not quite enough for him.

"No," you say out loud, firmly casting that contemptuous thought out of your mind.

You will not go in for self-loathing or self-pity. You are strong and capable and compassionate. Morpheus is still your soulmate. You can fix this. Once he's back, you will talk about this.

The resolution seems to lessen the lingering despair enough that you unwittingly fall asleep.

-----------------------------

There's an anticipatory undercurrent to the chatter being passed back and forth across the circular tables spaced evenly across the function room.

You're sat at one such table, the hands folded in your lap occasionally brushing against the heavy dark blue velvet draped over the wood, the feel of the material's sumptuous pile triggering pleasant goosebumps.

Ice laden water jugs and bowls of savoury snacks occupy the middle of the table, and each seat is designated by a placeholder. Your name is displayed in a bold font across the folded piece of stiff card in front of you and the names of all your colleagues have been typed out on matching markers.

The lighting could be described as ambient, moody even - a strange choice for such a celebratory event. The strongest source of light is directed towards a projection screen, where the order of events are being presented.

You thumb the lock screen button on the right hand side of your phone to check the time. 20:28. The scheduled break is due to end soon. You take a sip of water from the tumbler stamped with your lipstick and wait.

The microphone on the podium clicks and crackles as it is brought back to life and all heads turn in unison towards the man standing there. A spotlight provided by the professional lighting rig suspended above is ignited, the light from it so bright that it obscures every feature on his face.

His tone is light as he reels off a few formalities, making a joke about the speed of which some individuals had headed to the bar come the start of the interval, eliciting a sequence of throaty laughs from the crowd. He then jumps back into the award giving.

"This person, I know for a fact has really been putting in the effort with developing the traits required to truly embody this accolade and everything it stands for. Taking gullible to the next level, allowing themself to be debased and shutting down all logical reasoning. A veritable inspiration of inconsequentiality; therefore, it comes as no surprise that the award for most worthless human goes to -"

He pauses for effect, and the entire room watches on with baited breath.

Condensation beads slip down the outside of the jug closest to you, mirroring a perspiration bead that has begun to slide from your nape. You look away from the stage, feeling an impending sense of doom slink into your stomach with the nausea that suddenly washes over you. Your intuition is well-founded.

The microphone wheezes as the man inhales the breath needed to deliver the announcement.

He says your name.

The applause that follows is rapturous; a chorus of hollers and whistles punctuating the clapping. It's like you're at a rock concert.

None of it aligns with the damning description of the award name. Under no circumstance do you want to go and accept it; doing so would show that you agree with the committee.

You sneak a glance over your shoulder, wincing at the harsh fluorescents spilling in from the foyer through the set of double doors - that is where you quietly need to get to.

You're pushing your chair back slowly and carefully, about to attempt this surreptitious exit when a spotlight hits you. The hand going for your bag freezes mid-reach.

It's as if a tractor beam has been activated. You cannot stop yourself from standing, cannot stop yourself from walking on the scuffed wooden floor, made that way from years of dancing.

The journey to the stage on your shaky legs is long, given your distance from it, intensified even further by the stares of your peers. You go up the steps at the side of the stage, jelly legs adding risk with the slight elevation. You grip the handrail in a white-knuckled fist.

The award waits on the podium: an oversized key on a black plinth, the golden colour of the metal glints temptingly. With your gaze turned downwards, the man shakes your hand with the pressure of a constrictor, praising you with words that you can't hear above the continued applause.

You force your mouth into a smile and ready yourself to take the award, telling yourself that being gracious is the best approach you can take.

Unfortunately, in your moment of acceptance, someone decides to take advantage.

There's a blow to the back of your knee caps.

You cry out from shock and pain; the sound doesn't last long for as soon as your knees make impact with the boards, a gag is forced into your mouth.

The situation and the gag make it hard to breathe in any way other than frantically, pulse just as agitated in your tight-feeling chest.

The crowd's clapping doesn't stop even as intricate restraints are added at your wrists, even as burning tears and sticky snot stream down your face.

The agony intensifies when you are hauled up by your hair and then herded by several pairs of hands towards the wings of the stage. Your eyes fall on the opaque box that stands just out of view of the crowd.

Its purpose is clear. It is to be your cage.

You're now screaming despite the gag, thrashing as you're dragged towards your doom. Not even allowing yourself to be a dead weight can save you; the cloying fingers are too numerous, too zealous.

The door to the cage opens and the presence of the oppressive void within ekes out towards you like a disturbing fog. Whatever is in there, you can sense it will smother you. Obliterate you slowly. And the people in this room seem to believe you are worthy of such a fate.

The hands anchored on your body begin their last pushes. You whip your head around, making a last attempt to search for an escape when you see a figure out the corner of your eye.

There's no questioning who it is; the person who has been on the periphery of so many dreams these past weeks, you would know him anywhere.

You see a glimpse of movement. Perhaps the raising of a hand. A ripple of power courses through the scene - you feel it vibrate in your chest. Everything freezes, and in that sudden silence you hear Morpheus' solemn and decisive words:

"This dream is over."

You startle, a shriek echoing about the sunless space as you are ripped from the dream. The sheets have you wrapped up like a python; you try with desperation to get free, half-convinced that those relentless hands are still trying to ferry you into that cage.

Floundering, you work and work against the fabric, crying out again when your progress is minimal.

"Soulmate."

Morpheus' deep voice sounds, speaking your name next in such an intimate and gentle way that you instantly halt in your struggle.

He is beside you.

All the attributes of concern are in his facial expression and body language, eyes glistening with an emotion you can't quite place.

"It is over now," he confirms, dissolving the sheet into nothing.

He comes closer, stroking your face with one hand, the other atop your chest with the palm centred on your soul. It's a welcome feeling, his attentions and being free from the tangle of sheets, but you are too far gone for it to stop the fear that the nightmare has set in motion.

"When you said that it was not my place to accompany you, is it because you think I'm less than you?" You ask in a cracking, pitiful voice.

Morpheus stills for a heartbeat, before bending his head to look you straight in the eyes. "No," he breathes. "My soulmate, I could never think that."

He kisses you softly.

It's not what you expected but nevertheless your hands cling to him on instinct, kissing him back and then he's suddenly straddling you. Covering your body with his own to give you a feeling of safety and it's exactly what you require.

You're on the verge of tears from it all, touching the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders to keep him close.

"Morpheus," you call.

"I am here. I am not going anywhere."

He kisses you deeper this time as if to corroborate his statement. It incrementally lessens your doubts and anxieties but there's a call for communication too.

"We need to talk about what happened," you say with quiet assertion.

For a moment, you wonder if he has even heard you for he claims your mouth again.

"I do not wish to talk," he eventually replies, immediately diving back in for yet another kiss. "I wish to take away your anguish."

"But -"

He hushes you, a soothing shut down that would be infuriating if not for the lingering unease of the nightmare clogging your emotions. "Let us forget what was said. Let us instead indulge in the pleasure of each other's bodies."

You blink, slowly processing his explicit inference, taken aback by the very obvious physical reactions they inspire. You force yourself to adopt a professional expression as your arousal begins to leak onto your gown.

"I want to talk to you."

He's smiling smugly as he tilts his head to the side. "Your emotions betray you dearest, as does your body. I know exactly what you want and it is not conversation."

Shame rises but is quickly blotted out by Morpheus' next action.

You feel bare skin against yours; he's used his power to disrobe you as well as him. A protest forms - he stifles it with his mouth. Your eyes are wide as you take it, as he shifts his weight ever so slightly to align your hips.

His own eyes stare you down after he pulls back, unblinking like an apex predator who has caught sight of its favourite prey.

Easy prey.

That's what you are.

He arranges you as such too; grasping your legs and moving your knees to your chest to bend you in half. Pinning you underneath him.

Neither of you last long with the tightness of the angle once you allow him to enter you.

To say you are dazed afterwards would be an understatement. The events of the past few hours have been persistently erratic. If Morpheus feels the same then it isn't apparent. The colour of his eyes are as clear and stable as the weather above, hand warming his favoured spot on your chest.

Your own hands wander up and down his body, running smoothly over his enticing skin.

"You have not touched your food," he comments quietly.

One of your palms moves absentmindedly to trail lazily across your abdomen. "If I'm being honest, I've been struggling to eat since I got here. For some reason I have no appetite or thirst."

"That would be a result of the immortality."

Your hands freeze up, brain doing the opposite as it spins out in a hundred directions.

"W-what did you say?" You stammer, praying you have misheard him.

"The immortality," he clarifies. "My power is within you and with it, comes certain endurances."

You sit up and put some space between you both. This was a serious matter. Despite your empty stomach you feel like you are going to vomit.

"How long have you known that?"

"It does not matter."

Red rag to a bull doesn't come close to covering what his dismissive reply makes you feel. The set of your jaw is so tight that a section on the left side begins to feather. You talk through gritted teeth, levelling a furious glare at him - making it transparent that you are not going to tolerate his evasiveness any longer:

"Tell me how long."

He makes the smart decision to pause to select his reply, though you decipher from the suddenly overcast sky that it is not going to be one that you will like.

"Since our souls joined."

Your hand flies to your chest, to your soul as tears start to brew.

"That was days ago!"

Morpheus simply looks at you.

"Did you not think that I had a right to know about something as life changing as that?"

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can issue a syllable.

"Please can you give me some time alone?"

Morpheus' intense stare - the one that had gone from intimidating to exhilarating - has now become distressing and you need to get out from under it.

To his credit, he does what you asked and the moment the door is closed, the tears you have been holding back start to flow freely. The ceiling sky is so crowded with dark clouds that you are convinced that it's going to do the same as your eyes.

You feel like you've been tricked. You didn't ask for this, nor were you consulted.

The gilding has fully tarnished now, revealing that things were too good to be true. And had been from the very beginning. You had been swept up in the haze of sexual satisfaction, too blinded by the soul bond to see clearly. The nightmare had spelled it out flawlessly: gullible, debased and without logical reasoning.

The previous success in derailing your self-loathing falls short now. You are bolting down the path of internal admonishment.

How could you have been so naïve?

The answer is your hubris. It had felt good to be finally wanted, chosen to be a part of something bigger than yourself by making a difference to the Dreaming. Unless you had misunderstood.

No, the Fates had told you it in no uncertain terms. What they hadn't done however was provide a time frame. You had stupidly assumed it would be effective immediately. Instead you could be looking at decades, centuries even with this newfound information.

Even with the promise of eventual fulfilment, there was little chance that you would last for years in this room with your sanity intact.

You need distraction from the demoralising thought so you bluster through your bathroom routine like a whirlwind, slamming containers down where possible and huffing out exasperated sounds.

While the gown has re-materialised on the hook by the shower, you are dead set against putting it back on. You go to the bedside table and dive into the drawers to find your clothes from the night of the award ceremony, uncovering the cigarettes and lighter you forgot had been hidden there.

You don't even think before lighting one up, hoping that the nicotine will take the edge off your despair. You are quick to finish it and the clarity it brings encourages you to have a second. And then a third.

From the combination of your reclined position on the sheets and the dainty way you hold each cigarette, you can't help but feel like a 1940s starlet. It injects a bit of delirious humour, and also gumption into the mix.

"You are not at fault here," you whisper out loud. "He is the one who has an understanding of how soulmates work. He withheld that. You are allowed to be pissed off with him and you should let him see it."

-----------------------------

By the time Morpheus returns, you are in full possession of your wits and sit perched at the foot of the bed. You regard each other; he appears a touch drawn out, eyes subdued and a small line marking the space between his eyebrows.

"You have been smoking," he states flatly.

Buoyed by the confidence gifted to you by said activity, you inhale the scent of the lingering bluish fog, flashing a sardonic smile as you audibly breathe out, labouring the point with the pleasurable sigh.

"What else was I supposed to do while I waited for you to come back?" You cross your legs and smooth out a non-existent wrinkle in the bedclothes you meticulously rearranged.

The effects of your sarcasm are immediate; the air is becoming ominously dense, threatening to unleash a storm of epic proportions. Morpheus' fists clench and the pressure is dampened a fraction.

"Give them to me," he asks in a monotone.

"No."

Your connection is so devoid of dissonance at this point. Morpheus is stone carved. The kind of impenetrable that would shred and destroy finger nails; there is no point in trying to claw your way to the being beneath. The apathy sends your anger to new heights, compelling that shamefully vindictive part of you into lashing out. You want to hurt him just as he has hurt you.

"They're the only thing I have left from my real life."

A lethal quality seeps into his reply, "That life ended the moment you stepped out onto that street."

"Well then I should have run from you that night," you provoke further, tone biting as glacial ice on exposed skin.

The same shadows from before are crowding about his person, settling in his eyes - a tell that you have unleashed the nightmare form. You have to actively remind yourself to breathe at an even pace. All things you had queued up to say to him are long gone as you gaze upon his dark majesty.

"Even if you had been able to evade me, hide your physical body, I would have found you the moment you fell asleep."

The tether on his control slips as a single bolt of lightning turns the room to a white-out. The thunder never comes, instead the rumble of his voice.

"Do not think that I had not anticipated a refusal. I was more than prepared to use force to get what I wanted. What I was promised. I will not share you with anyone. You are mine. My soulmate. You -"

He stops unexpectedly and head snapping to look at the door.

You roll your eyes. "Let me guess, something requires your attention."

He takes in a deep breath. "I will return shortly."

You watch sullenly as he leaves you behind yet again, about to resume smoking when you feel an urge to re-examine the door. It is as pointless as before; no handle nor locks. Your fists hit the mahogany once, then twice before your composure fully deteriorates and you begin to hammer on it. Not because you are hoping to snag someone's awareness, for you heard it from Morpheus that no one could find this place. Sadly, you do it because you are losing hope.

Dejection momentarily quelled, you resort to staring at the door with such concentration that you fear it may trigger another headache.

"How the fuck do you work?" You ask it.

If there is no tangible way of holding it then that left the metaphysical as its locking mechanism. Metaphysical power that came from him - that now resided in you.

Maybe you could use it to break out...

You huff out a laugh at your optimism. There is no harm in trying.

Decision made, you make a quick trip to the bathroom to get the ruby ring you put by the sink. There's no chance you're escaping and leaving a beloved family heirloom behind.

You walk confidently to the door and plant yourself a forearm's length from it. The gold of the ring glimmers on your right hand as your press your palm to the glossy wood.

You do not want to be the person you were in the nightmare; forced into a box-encased void and cut off from the universe. You want to learn, to experience, to love. You want to have dreams and you're willing to make them with or without their master.

You are going to get out of here.

-----------------------------

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind. On the borderline of the edge, and where I walk alone."

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melsbabydaddy · 3 months ago

Text

nsfw slc headcanons cause it’s 3 am and im restless 👍

+ these are all completly self indulgent and i can have fun cause i can

warnings: nsfw talk (mdni), slight mention of weed and alcohol, talk of several kinks, i wrote this for myself

abby -

human embodiment of “damn u on the edge of the bed u bout to fall off”

she gets sooooo nervous and fidgety

easily flustered

but i feel when she gets used to someone, she gets more confident. she’ll be more likely to engage in stuff.

her strap hangs

not really kinky but likes hair pulling (both giving and receiving)

probably also something to do with spit

loves the bond of having sex, being so close and vulnerable with someone

her head game is immaculate 100/10

talks them through it in that low, breathy voice of hers

owen -

despite what most think, i don’t think owen is bad in bed lol

boat scene was at a really inconvenient time and a spur of the moment

normally, he’d be very careful when with someone, last thing he wants to do is hurt them

def makes cheesy jokes and gives sappy compliments while doing it

eye contact is everything to him

gives a lot of neck and chest kisses

likes when his back gets all scratched up during

does it deep and slow until he’s about to cum then he kinda rabbit fucks cause it feels so good

the aquarium is his favorite place cause it’s safe and romantic

prefers making love over just fucking

manny -

man has experience

whispers and moans in spanish, mainly cussing and praise

has a tongue and fingers that have people seeing stars

a considerate gentleman

has a whole box of love letters from his various partners

very big on consent, never wants to pressure someone into doing something

either has a good supply of protection (if it’s somehow available in the apocalypse) or has the strongest pull out game ever

will never turn down a blowjob and always returns the favor

long, breathless moans when he cums and his body always completely stills

gives the other crew members sex advice

mel -

could never fuck while a dog was in the room, especially alice

big giver, often forgets about her own pleasure cause she so focused on the other person

so squirmy when she gets head, literally have to hold her down by her hips to hold her still

lowkey probably has a breeding kink

not in a freak way but in a “i like the bond of family and crave the security” type of way

gasps and squeaks more than actual moans cause she afraid of being too loud

alcohol makes her flirty and frisky

secretly likes being bent over and flipped around like a doll

cums super easy, like to the point she’s embarrassed

squirter

nora -

focuses more on her job but every woman has needs

fucks causally and tends to avoid romance cause that’s too much drama for her

very direct and honest about this

likes to be worshiped

will do it back, but she expects it first and they have to earn it

loves riding someone’s face, enjoys having control as she gets eaten out

fucks slow but hard

quickies in the med tent when it’s empty

low, raspy praises and directions

usually gone by the morning after a one night stand

jordan -

canonically grunts a lot and is loud

does not care one bit that people can hear

eats pussy for his own pleasure, often causing overstimulation

likes having his hair touched, tugged on, and petted

praise gets him weak, tell him he’s good boy and he fucking melts

will never admit that to anyone

whimpers and gasps when he cums, also bucks his hips a lot

likes it rough and hard unless he’s feeling lovey, than it’s fast and passionate

deep, messy kisses

has taken the strap before and loved it

leah -

also canonically loud

probably a loud moaner and a screamer if it’s real good

100% takes dirty pictures and keeps them under her bed and uses them to masturbate

loves having her tits sucked on

very experimental and likes to try new things she sees in old magazines and movies

queen of giving aftercare

covers her partner in hickeys, wants to mark them everywhere

absolutely feral when ovulating

cowgirl position is her fav

can cum like 15 times in a row

nick -

loves slow, hip rocking fucking

close, tightly pressed, skin against skin is the best for him

cockwarming >>>

lots of low grunting and moaning

says “just the tip” a lot and it never is

the beanie stays on

thinks fucking while high is best thing in the world

def fucks on really slow patrols and stake outs

always finishes on the chest or in between the thighs

has been in a surprising number of threesomes

pls tell me if u like this so i can have an excuse to write and post more 🙏

#tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2 #salt lake crew #tlou headcanons #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #tlou owen #owen moore #tlou manny #manny alvarez #tlou mel #tlou nora #tlou jordan #tlou leah #tlou nick

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justwhisperingfantasies · 2 months ago

Text

Anything

a continuation of Always

Characters: - Reader - Dean - Sam - Layla - Mrs. Rourke - Roy - Sue Ann- Mention of John and Joshua

Warnings: Fluff, Language, Implied Smut, Hurt Dean, Cannon Violence, Supernatural Spoilers,

A/N: So, I am really nervous about this one. Faith is in my top 3 favorite episodes of the whole series. This one is a wee bit longer. Sorry. I hope you enjoy it.

Hope y'all enjoy it.

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

Your leg muscles throbbed from the pressure you were applying to the gas pedal. Yet your car still seemed to crawl along the road. Damnit I’m not gonna make it.

You looked up to the stars. “I never asked you for anything. I hunt monsters. I save people. He saves people. He’s a good fucking person. You can’t let him die. You hear me? Please don’t let him die.”

“Sam.” you said as you flipped open your phone and held it to your ear. “What’s going on? Is he?”

“No. He’s alive. We just got to the hospital. They just took him. How far away are you?”

“Maybe 20 minutes. 10 if I run some red lights.”

“[Y/n] we don’t need you getting hurt too.” He tried to hide it with a cough but you the sniffle “please be careful. “

“Always.” Your automatic response sent a sharp pain through your chest.

You leaned your back against the door to his room, staring at the calming painting hanging in the hallway, trying to find the courage to face what was on the other side.

“You love me.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh. He raised his head and rested his chin on your chest. You cracked your eyes open a bit, catching a glimpse of his bright green eyes. “You know I love you too, right?"

“I know.”

He gazed at you, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “You know?!”

“Dean you tell me all the time, how I’m your best friend, you’re always telling me to be careful, you worry about me. I know you love me.”

He chuckled. “No sweetheart, I’m in love with you.”

You remember how your heart skipped at that moment. He slowly made his way up your body, his lips drawing closer to yours. You placed a hand on his chest, stopping him right before he got to his destination. ““If we cross this line, there’s no going back, Dean.”

He closed the gap between your lips and firmly placed his on yours. Your hand sliding upward, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The fire ran through your veins as he stroked his tongue against yours. His kisses grew needy, hungry like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Heavy pants filled the room as the desire intensified between you. Your fingers grazed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it gently to his chest, he broke the kiss and swiftly removed it. A smile on his lips as you admired the definition of his shoulder muscles. “Like what you see?”

“Eh, they’re alright.”

“That drool on your chin says otherwise” He murmured softly, lowering his head to place gentle kisses along your neck.

“[y/n]!” Sam’s voice pulled you out of your memory. You turned and headed in his direction.

“Hey Sam. Have you heard anything?”

“No, I just got done talking to the cops and paying for his treatments.” You rolled your eyes. “They are just doing their jobs.” Sam glanced over your shoulder. “Hey Doc.” You pivoted and stood next to Sam. The doctor shifted his gaze to you then back to Sam. “His fiancée.” You gave a nod, going along with his lie.

“How is he?” your voice cracked.

“He's resting.” The doctor replied

“And?” Sam asked.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart...it's damaged.” You felt a wave of emotion as tears started to gather in your eyes.

“How damaged?” you managed to keep you voice normal

“We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month.”

“No, no. There's, there's... gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment.” Sam argued.

“We can't work miracles. I really am sorry.”

The reality hits you. “He’s not going to make it…” You blinked, letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks.

“There’s my girl.” Dean said as you walked in, Sam following behind you. His strained voice weighed heavily on your heart. Your eyes brimming with tears as they met his gaze. He appeared so frail and unwell. You had Dean in rough shape before, this was something entirely different. You and Sam stopped at the foot of his bed.

“We talked to your doctor.” Sam told him.

“Ok, So where are we doing the fight for the Impala?” Dean gestured to you and Sam. “Whoever gets it, better take care of it or I’ll haunt them.”

You scoffed. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, come on, it's a little funny.”

“Dean.” Sam whimpered.

“Look, we all know how dangerous this gig can be. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.”

“Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options.” Sam asserted.

“What options? Yeah, burial or cremation. And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

“Watch me.” Sam stormed out.

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, he reached out his arm, inviting you to lie down beside him. You walked over and sat in the chair beside his bed. He raised his eyebrows, grabbing your hand he pulled. “Get your ass over here.” You laid beside him. resting your head on his shoulder too scared to lay it on his chest.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

He kissed your forehead. “You ain’t gonna hurt me baby.”

You walked up to Sam’s motel door and knocked. He opened the door slowly. “Hey, I thought you’d stay at the hospital.” He stepped back, opening the door all the way.

“Yea I got kicked out.” you said as you walked over and started looking at the papers Sam had laid all over the bed. “Did you call John?”

“I did. I got his voicemail. Big surprise.”

You sighed. “Find anything yet?”

“Actually.” There was another knock on the door. You looked at each other in confusion

Sam walked over to the door and opened it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checked myself out.” Dean said stepping into the room and leaning against the dresser. “I’m not gonna die in a hospital that kicks out my fiancée.” He gave you a weak grin. You shook your head. Sam helped him sit in the armchair.

“So, I was just about to tell [y/n] I called everyone in dad’s journal.”

“For what?”

“For a way to help you. One of his friends, Joshua, called me back. Told me about a specialist in Nebraska.”

“You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?”

“You’re not gonna die period. We are going.” You said sternly

Sam drives the Impala drives up a bumpy gravel path, to a sprawling white circus tent pitched in the middle of a field. Dean looks over to a sign that reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. “You guys are fucking liars!” You and Sam jump out of the house and hurry to help Dean. “This ain’t no damn doctor.”

“Technically I said specialist.” Sam grabbed Dean’s arms “Let me help you”

“I got it.” Dean said batting away his arm “A freaking faith healer, really guys?” He grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

“Reverend LeGrange is a great man.” An elderly women yelled at Dean as she passed.

“Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Baby, this guy is supposed to be the real deal, can you please just shut up and give it a chance.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He gave you a small smirk. “Alright, for you.” The three of you continued walking to the tent.

“Dean, how can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day?” Sam asked him as you continued walking toward the tent.

“Exactly. We see them, we know there real.”

“But if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” You asked.

“Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.” He remarked. “And you guys can stop ganging up on me now.”

“Maybe God works in mysterious ways.” A young blonde said overhearing the conversation

“Maybe he does. I’m Dean, this is [y/n]” he said raising your hands. You smiled at her. “This is Sam.” He said pointing at Sam with his other hand.

“Layla. So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you. here?”

“Well, apparently they believe enough for me.”

“Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” An older women walked up and putting her arm around Layla

The three of you walked into the tent. Dean walked over to the last row and started to sit. “Dean please. There’s 3 up front. Come on.” He sighed and followed you.

“Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann,” Roy began his service. “Reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says as he steps up to the little podium. The room fills with echoes of no as the crowd agrees with him “Seems like there’s always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.” Roy continues with his service “But, I say to you, God is watching.” You hear a mixture of Yes, he is, and amen, as they crowd agrees with him again. “God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt.” The agreements get louder, as almost everyone says amen or hallelujah, Roy continues “It is the Lord who does the healing here friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people’s hearts.”

“Yeah, and into their wallets.” Dean whispers

“Shh” You whispered back.

“You think so, young man?” Roy asked

Silence falls over the tent.

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Dean cleared his throat. “Uh Sorry.” He said in a shaky voice.

“No, no. Don’t be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” Almost everyone laughed. “What’s your name, son?”

“Um, Dean.” The nervousness lingered in his voice.

“Dean.” Roy nods with a grin on his face. “I want, I would you to come up here with me.”

The crowd was cheering. You hear the older woman with Layla whisper to her “seriously?!”

Sue Ann moves to center stage, gestures for Dean to come up while smiling.

“No, it’s ok.” Dean told them

“What are you doing?!” Sam asked him

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy asked

“Well, yeah,” the crowd starts the cheer. Dean stats on his seat and waited for the noise to settle. “Um. maybe you should just pick someone else.”

“Seriously Dean?” You sneered, annoyed.

“Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Roy declared.

“Please,” you begged “You told me you would give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath. “For you” he stood up and everyone started cheering.

Sue Ann walks Dean over to Roy. You see their mouths moving. “Pray with me friends.” Roy instructs as he raised one hand and puts the other one on Dean’s shoulder. All the hands in the audience raise, except yours, Sam's and the lady with Layla.

Roy moves his hand from Dean’s shoulder to the side of his head. “Alright now. Alright now.” You and Sam jump up to your feet as Dean falls to his knees, Roy keeps his hand in place. “Alright now” Roy says again.

“Dean!” You and Sam yell as Dean collapses to the stage floor, you both run to him.

The crowd is clapping excitedly.

Sam’s fingers grasp the front of Dean’s hoodie shaking him furiously. Finally, Dean’s eyes burst open as he gasps.

“Say Something!” Sam demands.

Dean blinking like his vision is still hazy as he gazes upward. Above him stands Roy, arms extended outward, palms facing up, a broad smile lighting up his face. Dean stares behind Roy, a look of disbelief etched on his face.

You lay on your back, your heart pounding and breaths coming in rapid bursts, gazing into Dean's eyes as his face hovered above yours.

"Wow," you breathed out, astonished.

He raised his eyebrows with a smile. “Told you I was ok.”

“I don’t know, I might be more convincing.” He laughed and rolled on his back beside you, He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you closer to him. you laid your head on his chest. “So, what was it like?”

“Mind blowing.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah babe. Our sex has always been great.” He chuckled as you let out a hefty sigh.

“You know what I meant Winchester.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You lifted your head and turned to look at him. His face was hard. “What’s wrong?” he shook his head. “Dean.” You pleaded.

“I don’t know. It was weird.” He sighed. “I felt cold. Something just felt off, felt wrong. When I think about it, I just get a bad feeling. Like there’s something more to it.” he looked up to the ceiling. “And the doctor mentioned something about a 27-year-old athlete that died of a heart attack.” He lipped his lips. “I’ve been trying, but I can’t sway myself into believe it was just a coincidence.”

You planted a swift kiss on his lips. “Alright, Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To explain this all to Sam, and then we can go check it out.”

“So how long you been together?” Roy asked as he sat down in the armchair across from the couch you and Dean were sitting on, in the LeGranges' living room.

“I’ve known her most of my life.” Dean looked at you , taking your hand in his. “Our dads worked together. There were many nights we got stuck babysitting my little brother together. Guess it all started there.”

“Well, the two of you make a stunning couple”

You smiled, “Thanks.”

“So how are you feeling Dean?” Roy asked.

“I feel great. Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.” Dean denoted.

“A miracle is what happened, but miracles come so often around Roy.” Sue Ann said as she handed you both a glass of tea. You both nodded thanks.

“When did they start? The miracles.” Dean inquired.

“Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month.” He explained fidgeting. “So, uh we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, to just keep right on praying. I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” Roy took off his sunglasses revealing his glassy white eyes. “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.”

“And you could heal people?” you asked.

“I discovered it afterward, yes. God has blessed me in many ways.”

“And his flock just swelled overnight. And this is just the beginning.” Sue Ann added with a proud smile on her face.

“Mind if I ask you one last question?” Dean asked looking down

“Of course not.”

Dean licked his lips, a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he asked, “Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” You gently squeezed his hand, offering him a sense of reassurance.

“Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me.” Roy took a drink of his tea. “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

“What did you see in my heart?”

“A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.”

As Sue Ann Ushers you out the door, Layla and her mother are waiting to go in.

“I’m sorry Layla the reverend is resting right now. He won’t be seeing anyone else today.” Sue Ann says with sympathy

“Sue Ann, please. This is our sixth time; he's got to see us.” Layla’s mother pleads.

“Hey, I’m gonna go start the car.” You whisper to Dean excusing yourself from the awkward situation. With a nod he squeezes your hand then releases it.

“She really said that to you?” You asked as you entered the motel.

“Yea, I'm kinda glad you went to the car. Couldn’t have you throwing punches on a reverend's porch.” He laughed as he threw his keys on the table.

“Well, it sounds like you two had an interesting day.” Sam said looking up from his laptop.

“Very. What'd you find out?” Dean asked Taking off his jacket and hanging it on a chair.

“Dean. I'm sorry.” Sam whimpered barely above a whisper.

“Sorry about what?”

“Marshall Hall died at 4:17.”

“Let me guess” you said grabbing a bottle of water. “The exact time Dean was healed.” You sighed as Sam nodded.

“So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits.” Sam handed Dean a stack of paper. “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.” sense of sorrow in his voice.

“Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?”

“Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.” Sam tried to comfort him.

“You guys never should've brought me here.”

“Dean, we were just trying to save you.” You chimed in.

“But now some guy is fucking dead now because of me.” Dean exclaimed with frustration.

“We didn't know, Dean.” Sam rubbed his temples. “The thing I don't understand is how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?”

“Oh, he's not doing it. Something else is doing it for him.” Dean declared.

“What do you mean?” Sam questioned.

“The old man I saw on stage.” Dean said. Your eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t tell you that part. “I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down I knew.”

“You don’t think it’s a.”

“Yes, I do” Dean cut you off as he glanced at you.

“What are you guys talking about?” Sam asked

“There's only one thing that can give and take life like that.” Sam looked at Dean, still confused.

” It’s a reaper.” You murmured. Dean nodded,

“You really think it's THE Grim Reaper?” Sam asked typing on his laptop.

“No Sam, not THE reaper, A reaper.” You told him.

“There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” Dean said looking through lore pages. “The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?”

“That cross.” Sam

“What?” Dean

“There was this cross, I knew looked familiar.” Sam looks through some papers and holds a card up, “This.”

“A Tarot?” Dean asked, taking the card from Sam, he looked at it then showed it to you.

“It makes sense. A tarot dates to the early Christian era right, when some priests were still dabbling in magic.” You noted. Dean tilted his head with a pondering expression.

“And a few of them veered into the dark stuff. Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?” Sam added

“So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?” Dean

“If so. He’s riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white.” Sam

“Ok then we stop Roy.” Dean announced as he got up and put his coffee mug in the sink. Leaning on the counter behind you.

“How?” Sam asked

“You know how.”

“Dean, we can't kill him.” You proclaim, turning around to face him.

“Babe, he’s playing God, deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book.”

“No. We do that we're no better than he is.” Sam

“Ok, we can’t kill Roy, we can't kill death. Any other bright ideas?” Dean said with a bit of sass.

“We gotta figure out how he’s doing it and how to break it.” Sam stated.

The Impala jolts along the rough, gravel-strewn road again. Dean did his best to dodge the potholes, passing a sign that says service today.

“If Roy's using a spell, there might be a spell book.” Sam said as you guys got out of the car.

“See if you can find it.” He looked at his watch, “You gotta hurry though, the service starts in fifteen minutes. We’ll try to stall” Dean takes your hand, and you head for the tent while Sam heads toward the house.

You and dean mosey up and down the aisles on opposite sides of the tent. You hear a cell phone ring and look up to see Dean putting his to his ear. He talks for a few seconds and then holds the flyer that the protestor in the parking lot gave him and mouths the words He’s next. He points at you then the opening on the tent. He them mouths be careful; you nod mouthing back always and go search for the man.

You go out to the parking lot, bobbing and weaving through cars, finding Sam. You throw your hands up in frustration. “Keep looking [y/n]” Sam yells, you continue in the direction you were going.

“HELP.” You turn searching for where the voice was coming from. “HELP ME PLEASE! HELP ME!” you figure out the direction and start running. You pass a bus to see Sam and the man running like they are being chased, you look toward the tent as you hear the commotion. You see Roy and his followers exiting the tent. You look back to Sam and the man still running frantically.

“Yea?” Dean answered his phone.

“Dean. It didn’t work the reaper is still after him.” the man falls to his knees. “I saw Roy. He’s not doing it; it must be someone else”

“Its Sue Ann”

You see Sam helping the man up and he doesn’t look frightened anymore. You sigh in relief. “I think he’s ok.” Then you hear Sue Ann yelling help through the phone.

“So, Roy really believes.” Sam asked sitting on his motel bed.

“I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing.” Dean said between the beds.

“Well, I found this.” Sam said handing a book to Dean. “Hidden in their library. It's ancient. Written by a priest who went dark side. There's a binding spell in here for trapping a reaper.”

“Must be a hell of a spell.” You said sitting on the other bed.

“Yeah. You gotta build a black altar with seriously dark stuff. Bones, human blood. To cross a line like that, a preacher’s wife. Black magic. Murder. Evil”

“Desperate. Her husband was dying,” Dean looked to you “she would have done anything to save the person she loves.” His gaze locked onto yours as he spoke, and his words made your heart flutter. A smirk on his face as you exhaled sharply, trying to compose yourself.

“Yeah, but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?”

“To force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral.” Sam informed. “We gotta break that spell.”

Dean rifled through the pages on the table. Finding the picture of the cross he said. “You know Sue Ann had a Coptic cross like this. As soon as she dropped it, the guy was ok.”

“So, you think we gotta find the cross or destroy the alter?” Sam asked

“Maybe both?” you suggested

“Whatever we do we better do it soon, he's healing Layla tonight.” Dean said

“That's Layla's car. She's already here.” Sam says as Dean pulls the impala in the drive.

Dean nods with a grim expression “You know she's gonna die in a couple of months.”

“You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.” Sam says with compassion

Dean looks to you. You press your lips in a hard line. “He’s right Dean, I’m sorry.”

The three of you approach the tent and peek inside. Roy is speaking to a small group, including Layla and her mother.

“Gather round, please everyone” Roy says.

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean asked.

“House.” Sam guessed.

“You guys go find Sue Ann; I'll catch up.” Dean says pushing you and Sam into the shadows. As two cops walk down the stairs, Dean yells. “Hey!” they look at him. “You gonna put that fear of god in me?” He takes off running and they chase after him.

As soon as they're gone you and Sam run up the stairs and check around the house. It’s completely dark. “Look” Sam whispers, pointing at the light emerging from the cracks of the outside basement entrance. “I’ll go check it out. You see if you can get in the house.” You nod. Sam moves toward the basement entrance, opens the doors and slips inside.

As you search the house you hear the cellar door slam. You look out the window to see Sue Ann locking the doors. Sam banging on them trying to get out. You make your way quickly to the cellar doors, but Sue Ann is nowhere to be found. “Sam?” You whispered. pulled the pipe out of the door handles and swung them open. “Sammy!”

He emerged from the shadows. “Bout time.”

You and Sam ran over to the tent. You see Sue Ann holding up the cross while reciting something. You and Sam start to run in her direction. “Sam, destroy the cross, I’ll find Dean.” He nods as he continues to run toward her.

As you weave through the parked cars you hear a loud wail in the distance. You froze in place. “Dean?!” you yelled at the top of your lungs, getting no response you began to search again. You hear another wail. You turn around to see Dean on his knees in the driveway. “Dean.” Speak softly with trepidation. Your legs jolt to life. Pushing into the ground as hard as you can, you finally make it to him. He’s gasping for air with glazed over eyes. You tackle him, pushing him onto his back. You rise to your knees facing the same direction Dean was seconds ago. “Not him. Take me instead.” Nothing happens. Dean is still unable to breathe. “Come on you son of a bitch. Not him!” You shouted in anger. With one big last gasp dean’s breathing returns to normal. Anticipation hits you like a joke of lightning as you wait for the reaper to appear, but he doesn’t.

“[y/n]”

“Sam did it he destroyed the cross.” You say helping Dean to his feet.

“You guys, ok?” Sam asked as you approached the Impala.

“Hell of a week.” Dean said, shaking his head.

“We should get going.” You said as you opened the back door.

Dean’s pov

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, sitting on the trunk of his car, in that leather jacket, hair blowing in the wind. She was gorgeous inside and out. Crazy thing was she loved him, him of all people. She loved him enough to give her life just to save him. He opened the door and threw his duffle on the back floorboard.

“Whatcha starin’ at Winchester?”

“Just the prettiest girl in the world.”

“Kiss ass.” She said with a smile.

He laughed softly as he moved between her legs, wrapping her waist with his arms. “Listen,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I never want you to think about trading your life.”

“Dean.” She cut him off. “Save your breathe. I don’t care how mad you get, how loud you yell, or how many days you stay pissed off at me. I would do anything to save your life.”

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#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn reader insert #dean fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #sam and dean #dean w #supernatural dean #dean x you #x reader #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #dean spn #spn fanfic #dean

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slutsareteacherstoo · 3 months ago

Text

I Hope - A Terry Richmond Drabble Part Two

Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)

(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)

Summary: Savannah and Terry continue with they left off. But something stops Savannah leaving her unsure if what was supposed to be the perfect night is now ruined.

[PART 1] [PART 3] [PART 4]

Warnings/Things of Note: Slightly NSFW/NSFT (moaning, kissing, nipple play I guess...), fluff and comfort, playful teasing, anxiety, dissociation, mentions of disability, sex and trauma, intense ass eye contact and staring (it might turn into kink if you squint a lil bit), Switch!Terry (not really but we shall see...), people wearing masks (surgical, kn95, n95), shoutout to the library!

Really though, if you dissociate and/or have trouble staying present in your body, for any reason and/or you be feeling things too much and it make you wanna dissociate, proceed with caution. While it's cool to see yourself reflected in writing, it can also be disorienting. So. Before you read. I want you to have some grounding tools near by and take breaks as you need them.

Word count: 3K+ (3,679 WTF?!?!?! YAY ME)

Author's Note: Okay, yall. Here is the second part. This thing is long! I'm typing this in drafts right now on my computer. I have to copy and paste in into docs because I have no clue what the actual word count is (That shit was 10 pages when i pasted it in WORD!)

Thank you sooo sooo much everyone for your support. I'm glad you enjoyed the first part. Highkey...it's giving series cuz the things I imagined>>>> I'm a covid conscious girlie who still be masking outside so it's been a minute for me in this department! Trying to use my imagination and conjure the connections I know people are seeking, navigating the world like I do. So as i use my big brain, it'll pop up in my writing. If you wanna see more, let me know so I can add you to the taglist. I'm not touching this again til November! I got grad school apps to submit!

I hope you enjoy!

I'll give it to you freely

Cause you're so damn worth it

Oh will you still love me

Even when wе're hurting

As Terry returned to what he and Savannah both realized was her sweet spot, he indulged himself to hear Savannah’s moans over & over; each one differing in pitch and tone. Applying the pressure of his tongue to the spot and up to her earlobe, she made a low moan. And Terry felt as she pulled him closer. The feel of her long nails caressing his shaved head and neck and her sounds were bliss. The apprehension and embarrassment that Savannah had previously felt, were gone now. They were replaced with incessant need, incessant hunger. The need to feel this man on her, with her, inside her —skin under skin. The contact he gave her was none like no other. She let the sounds of pleasure spill from her mouth as Terry obliged her to.

As of this moment, Savannah was tapped into her body. The feeling was overwhelming but it wasn’t too much. When Terry came up for air, he looked into Savannah’s eyes, deep dark brown satellites. They marveled in comparison to how she described his planets. The look on her face was one he’d never seen before but was honored to know he helped put it there. She let out a shaky sigh.

“You’re really good at this sort of thing.”

Terry chuckled with a smirk, “I am.”

At the next thought, Savannah sheepishly smiled and looked away. Terry brought his hand to her chin once again, slightly nudging her to look at him.

“What?” Terry said with a smug ass grin, admiring the woman before him.

Savannah looked down with her eyes and flitted them back to Terry’s.

“I don’t know if I can ask you this.”

“You can ask me anything you want.” Terry slow blinked as he responded to Savannah.

She took his left hand from her chin and placed it on her chest, “Can you touch me here?” Grabbing his other hand, she added “and here?”

Terry said, “I can. What would you like me to do?”

“Whatever you want.” Savannah replied, focusing fully on Terry’s now bright eyes, while she bit her deep, brownish pink bottom lip. Terry took those words and massaged her chest. She was still wearing her black high neck tank top, the opposite to Terry’s gray one. When he squeezed, she let out a hiss. Terry took his thumbs and massaged what he felt were the outline of her nipples. At that, Savannah let out a “fuck”. Terry stopped, looking at Savannah, waiting for her eyes to open. Her dark brown skin was gleaming with the slight sweat she’d worked up.

“I didn’t say stop,” she said lowly, eyes heavy lidded with hunger. And so, Savannah was determined to maintain eye contact with Terry—to eventually be the one to win one of these staring contests. As he flicked his thumb in slow circles over her nipples, Savannah felt herself floating away. The feeling was good. Too good. Maybe too overwhelming. She was getting lost in the feeling. A new one, but overwhelming nonetheless. She was trying to stay here, stay present in this body. Her thoughts were interrupted by Terry squeezing her right shoulder. She blinked and focused back onto the objects inside of the room. The TV atop the dresser and the music sounding from it. The light on across the hall. Her clothes on THEE chair™��, and making them center back on Terry’s face.

Terry had seen Savannah enjoying the feeling, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, excitement and trying to maintain her focus on him. He wasn’t gonna lie. It gave him an ego boost. But then, he saw her eyes go in a slightly different direction. Her voice, her body still responding to his movements but her mind had gone elsewhere. Her eyes had glazed over and it made him stop.

“Savannah,” he squeezed her right shoulder again, “Savannah, baby.”

Her eyes found his again and her face contorted into a frown. You could see the disappointment on her face. Whatever feelings that were coming up for her right now, he wanted to make space for them —to make space for her.

“What is it?” Terry uttered softly.

Savannah shook her head from side to side. She kissed her teeth softly and said, “It was really nice. It felt good. It felt really good.”

Terry nodded wordlessly as he kept his hand on her shoulder, alternating light squeezes while he massaged it.

Savannah continued, “I felt too much. Not that anything you did was bad or wrong. It was perfect actually. Really really perfect.” She wanted to reassure him.

Terry gave her a small smile, “But?” he added.

“I felt it too much. It felt too good. And I think—“ she cut herself off. She thought what? That she couldn’t do this? That this might be harder than she thought it’d be? She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to think or even say or talk about herself as being too much. She’d done so much work already to remove that from her vocabulary, from seeing herself that way.

And Terry never did.

She hoped he wouldn’t now.

“I think that because the feeling—because EYE felt the feelings so intensely, I was so in my body, paying attention to everything. And that was scary. I think I got scared. I think we got scared.” The we in question was her body. The both of them were still navigating this together and it was difficult.

Savannah hadn’t even noticed the single tear that spilled onto her cheek until Terry wiped it away.

It was clear today that she would not be the winner of any of these staring contestants.

Focusing on Terry and talking about this, made it too difficult. Eyes darting around the room as she talked, mostly because she didn’t want to see him. To see if the look on his face would change at all to pity. She couldn’t bear it. She hoped not.

Terry’s heart broke a little. But he made sure to maintain his steel of softness for Savannah. He didn’t want to speak too soon, speak over her, or imply anything that may not be true. He just wanted her to talk, to tell him what she needed. And he would help her in whatever way he knew how.

“I don’t want you to think,” Savannah said finally braving to make eye contact with Terry. Her nostrils were flaring and she was trying to keep her voice level. She didn’t want it break. But it did. “Less of me.”

At that statement though, Terry had to interrupt. “I don’t think less of you.” Savannah raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I don’t,” he doubled down and countered in a firm tone.

Savannah rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed loudly. Not at Terry. Not even at herself but just at the situation. When Savannah could not find the words to say, Terry decided to speak some more.

“I don’t think less of you. I never could but especially not because of this. You told me that you needed—that we needed to take it slow. Like I said, you are in control.” He took a pause. “ I’m with you because I like you. I like you because of you. This,” he picked up her hands, pointing his chin to their hands and to Savannah. “means something to me. You are important to me.” He squeezed her hands for emphasis.

As he considered his next words, there was silence between the two of them. Savannah had briefly removed one of her hands and used the bottom of her palm to wipe her eyes. She joined hands with Terry again, as the two lay side to side, knees facing inward. Music was faintly playing in the background.

It was a simple yet hypnotic melody. In fact, that’s why they’d let it repeat over and over. It was Terry’s choice. And it was definitely going to be up there on his Spotify Wrapped.

When he first heard it, Savannah had immediately come to his mind. She was definitely special and knew it immediately when he’d come across her.

—

Savannah was oblivious in her own world when he crossed her path. He was awestruck.

It was the sound of her voice that piqued his interest first. He heard her before he saw her. After locking his bike out front, he walked through the library’s sliding doors. He’d heard it as the metal song he’d been listening to was fading out. She was at a table explaining something to the group of people in front of her. There was something about her voice that was soothing and captivating. Taking his buds out ear by ear, he was able to hear her voice in its fullness. He didn’t have the first clue about how the nutritional value of frozen fruit and vegetables was just as good as fresh, but he’d listen more to find out.

Staring in her direction, he was immediately taken by her. She’d been wearing a bright pink bandana over her hair put in a thick low puff. Clear, purple glasses over deep, dark brown cat eyes, lined in black. Thin, oversized hoops framed her face. The rest of it he couldn’t see because she was wearing mask. It was a white one with blue straps. It made him scrunch his face in curiosity, especially because most of the library patrons he could see weren’t wearing any. He’d done a quick ocular scan of the space from periphery to main fields of vision. Yup. He’d spotted maybe 4 or 5 people outside the seated group wearing a mask at all. Some wore thin, black and light blue ones. Others wore more sturdy-looking ones? People had them the in different colors—white, black, pink green. He wasn’t wearing one either. But no mind that, he wanted to hear more of what she had to say.

She was wearing an orange crochet cardigan with a white ribbed shirt. The shirt was stretched over her large chest and tucked into black stretchy yoga pants.

The thick waistband outlined the roundness of her soft belly. They hugged her wide-set hips that framed her full thighs. The rest of the material flared out at her knees, covering her white and light brown running shoes.

It was at the appraisal of her lower half that made Terry let out what he thought was a mental, “Damn,” and considered what behind might look like. He realized that was not the case when the library worker at the front desk cleared their throat loud enough for Terry to hear and get the hint. He whipped his head in their direction, smiling apologetically and nervously with wide eyes and thin lips. He was being a man, in a way he was NOT proud of right now.

“Sorry about that. Is there a place I can charge my phone?” he asked while adjusting his backpack.

The worker pointed in the opposite direction of Savannah and her group. The worker was wearing a thin, black mask so he couldn’t see the bottom half of their face. But the expression in their eyes made it clear he needed to keep it pushing and do so expeditiously. He thanked them and made his way to get some juice for his phone.

—

Lizzie’s voice was crooning on the song’s fourth verse, fading out the memory

I'll give it to you freely

Cause you're so damn worth it

Oh will you still love me

Even when wе're hurting

“You are important to me,” he repeated “I’m not going to say that I don’t care about it. Because it wouldn’t be true. I care about whatever affects you, however it affects you.” He was looking down at her, the pair’s eyes a perfect match of earth, water and soil. Her eyes didn’t leave his this time, despite the silly face Terry made to break the tension in the room.

Savannah laughed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was getting better at keeping up with him. Maybe one day she would win one of these staring contests, he pretended not to know about. Attagirl.

“You can take however long you and your body need to adjust, to get back into it. Take your time, baby.” he rested his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb at her cheek “The loving ain’t going nowhere.” he said with wide grin, while Savannah let out a short, spluttering laugh.

“Okay, Mary J Blige,” she said shaking her head and rolling her eyes upward, staring at no place in particular.

“I got you,” Terry said booping Savannah’s nose.

“You got what?” she said with in an incredulous look on his face

“You,” he emphasized, “You can’t keep eyes on me.”

Savannah waved his hand from her face, the gold, medical bracelet glinting in the light. “Boy, bye.” She twisted at her waist to reach for her glasses on the nightstand. When she faced Terry again he was supporting himself up with his left hand, while his right one propped his head. Terry was staring at her as if he were enchanted. He’d always stare at her like that. And Savannah couldn’t believe that he still was, especially after how tonight went. He was making her feel all self-conscious and shit. Damn him and his fuck ass, color-changing eyes.

“What?” Terry said softly, cutting off her thoughts

“Fuck you and your fucking eyes”, Savannah playful shoved his shoulder.

“Why you say fuck me for?” Terry said aloud after letting out a laughter of shock, thick eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

“Because!” Savannah retorted, mirroring Terry’s expression and previous tone.

“Because what?” Terry said now in a softer tone, while squinting at her. He’d reached out for her hand again without looking. She accepted it and Terry interlocked his fingers with hers. It made Savannah smile, clearly showing because her eyes never left his.

This man was gonna be her undoing, she was sure of it. And he was sure she’d be his.

“So,” Savannah paused, while she focused on the feeling of the small circles Terry rubbed on the back of her clasped hand. “I didn’t ruin tonight?” she asked, avoiding Terry’s original question. Her left arm was bent at the elbow on her pillows, mirroring Terry while he was now lower than her. She felt Terry shift and then his hand on her knee. He slightly dipped his head, green-gray eyes asking for permission. Savannah nodded her head yes, and she felt Terry gently grab the back of her right knee, pulling it closer to him. Savannah loved the way the skin his rough textured palm felt against the soft smoothness of her legs. And Terry couldn’t get over how soft and delicate her skin was. Especially when he grazed her sides, feeling her rolls and ripples. It was supple and satin-like. He was grateful for the privilege he was allowed in getting to touch her. In allowing him to do anything with her. He’d do anything she’d ask in return.

“You did not,” Terry said. “I got to spend time with you. I got feel and caress you.” He demonstrated by caressing the back of her thigh. “I got to learn more about the sounds you make when you’re really feeling good ,” he said wiggling his eyebrows. Savannah scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Terry kissed his teeth, holding in his smirk. “See, there you go again.” he said in a light teasing tone. It was Savannah’s turn to kiss her teeth.

“Ok, but to be fair, today should NOT be counted!” She butted in holding a pointed finger upward

“Nigga, nobody is counting!” Terry laughed out.

“What do you mean, nobody’s counting? YOU JUST TOLD ME YOU ARE!” she exclaimed in shock and amusement. She wasn’t upset or angry. She felt…vindicated. Vindicated at the fact this mf WAS doing this shit on purpose! Ooh, Terry. When you I catch you, Terry! When I catch you Terry!

Now, Terry didn’t wanna look Savannah in her eyes. He was being shy and evasive and shit. Looking around the room, now that she found him out. He could feel the heat rising to cheeks. Not him blushing over this. Savannah lightly tugged his chin upward towards her.

“Nah, pretty boy. Eyes up here. This is what you wanted right?” Savannah had said, genuinely teasing him. He knew she didn’t mean anything else behind those words, just getting him back for the sake of getting him back. But the way she said them, while grabbing his chin made him feel something. He’d have to return to that thought another time. The firm squeeze she added, and the pressure from the tips of her naturally long nails, to grab his attention again didn’t help.

Savannah was looking at him expectedly, one eyebrow arched with lips slightly parted.

“I mean…” Terry trailed off. He did love staring at her. Yeah, he got a thrill from how any look he gave her she had a reaction to. But it really was her eyes that captivated him. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, iris and pupil ringed in black. They were a cat-like almond shape. Sharp and alluring without meaning too. When she lined them with different colors, it only made them more striking. He could help but admire them and admire her, like one would the moon. Intrinsically and reverently.

“…you got some nice ass eyes. Be distracting a nigga and shit.” Terry chuckled trying not to be the chalant nigga he very much was and Savannah let out a low cackle.

“Heh, hey.” she took that moment to clap her hands slowly, alternating her hands so that palms touched fingertips and fingertips touched palms. Swiping away some of the doubt and insecurity in her head. It made her get a big one.

Whew! Savannah didn’t know she’d be able to relate to Victoria Monét when she sang it, but making niggas feel a way is a forté really. Well, shit. She wasn’t gonna feel guilty about using his face and his eyes as the last thing she’d sense in her grounding practice anymore. And, she was making him fold like he made her fold? Nah, the game was on. She was committed to winning a few of these stare-downs and she was gonna come out on top, one way or another.

“Anyways, back to what you were saying much earlier.” Savannah ushered him to continue after they’d gotten hella distracted and off course. She appreciated the levity Terry added to the moment for her sake. But Savannah really did need to know that she didn’t ruin tonight and that she shouldn’t feel bad when they woke up tomorrow. She wasn’t in love him yet, but she needed to know, that if it happened —when it happened, a voice in her head said—That he would validate and reassure her when this would come up again. Because it would. Come up again.

“Like I was saying,” Terry extended the first syllable of the last word for exaggerated effect. It earned him a giggle. “We got to pause and ground together, when we both needed it.” Savannah gave him a slight eyebrow raise.

Terry began to rub at the back of his neck when he admitted, “I read online that light yet firm pressure could be helpful in helping a partner stay present.” Savannah’s face softened in surprise and endearment. Oh shit! Not him doing self-directed research!

So that’s why he was doing those squeezes and circles!

He continued hesitantly, “Yeah. I was just looking up different articles, going to different websites and other people’s accounts and stuff talking about disability, sex and trauma, you know. I just wanted to make sure I could help you feel as comfortable as possible. And you know, I got kinda nervous too cuz i was like, ‘I don’t know if Im fucking up or doing too much’ so I was stopping when I needed to too.” Terry was rambling nervously and it was so cute and sweet. She couldn’t believe he did that for her. And also that what he found helped him too.

“But yeah, nothing was ruined. I got to be here with you. And see what it was like when you start floating away,” he ended in a singysong way, wiggling his fingers for emphasis looking nowhere in particular.

Terry made sure to snap his head back to Savannah’s. He reached up for her face, his thumb slowly moving up and near her chin and lips. At that, she took a hand and draped it behind Terry’s neck. She used her nails to make slow, stroking movements at the across the length of his neck. She wanted to make sure she heard what Terry was saying.

“But I want you know, that I’ll be right here with you on earth. No matter where you go, wherever you go.” Terry stated firmly. He had an earnest look in his eyes. His, tinged with grey among blue-green ocean waves, moving in sync with hers, being compelled by the draw of her deep brown moons shining with black rings. The tides of feeling and connection present between the two were unmistakable. Undeniable.

Savannah knew that he meant every word.

And it was scary as hell.

She hadn’t had someone feel so sure about her in this way, in a long time.

But she wanted to see it through anyways, whatever this would become with time. She hadn’t told him everything, just enough to be in the know. And he took that information and built on it. For them. For her.

Savannah slightly lowered her head towards Terry, hovering her lips right over his. Her chain dangling over his.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his lips.

“Nothing is ever too much for you,” he whispered back.

And so the tides crashed, leading their lips to softly touch together. Melting with the hopes for the future and the celestial of their current now.

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Author's Note Pt 2: Comments, questions and suggestions are so welcome (please be nice to me tho 🥺 👉🏿 👈🏿) I did try to revise this one and edit it for real for real. If there are any errors let me know.

If you're wondering how he got Savannah out that mask...you gotta keep reading. If you wanna be added to the taglist without getting all my other NSFW reblogs, please lemme know in the replies.

Also I hope that those of you who needed to or still need to take some breaks and do some grounding cuz reading may have been a lot, please do that. Slowly blink your eyes open and close. Stretch your fingers, wrists, arms, and neck. Hell, your whole body. Drink some water. Grab a snack. Put on a mood uplifting song. <3

Also if you somebody like me, who still be masking when they be outside, im writing this for you extra!

For anyone who need it, let this work be a manifestation for the dynamics you desire, that are aligned with you in all ways, with no doubts or questions. May the Divine deliver and you recognize them upon arrival. You got this, boo! 😉

Okay thank you for coming to my TED Talk 🥰 See y'all on the dash

Part 3

#slutsareteacherstoo #atiya writes #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fluff #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x black fem!#finally nigga damn!#shoutout to my chronically ill and disabled baddies #team ‘we turn big and bad dudes into bitches’ reporting for duty 🫡#with consent!#wear a mask #Spotify #terry x savannah

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itsyagurlchip · 3 months ago

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INGRESSIVE INHALE

I. Need. 2018 Raphael. DATE HEADCANONS

(only if you want :3)

☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Lovely Sights☀︎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings: none, enjoy :)!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 VOID MY DEARRRRR ❤️❤️❤️ I GOTCHU BAE 🤪 but fr, thx for requesting! (GUYS STOP SAYING "IF YOU WANT TO" GRGGRGRGGR I WOULDVE DELETED THE ASK IF I DIDNT WANT TO USYGSUYGSUHVUSGV) (this was from months ago, we are now divorced. croak you old witch/jjjj)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ohhhhh, Raph has a datemateee~

Raph is a huge guy, so that's where all the love's gonna be at today.

He loves it when you sleep on top of him when you guys cuddle, to feel that small pressure on him makes him sleep as well.

While he doesn't like holding you per say, he loves it when you hang onto him.

It makes him feel like he doesn't always have to be aware of himself holding you, and only the things around you two.

Raph feels comforted when you just hold his face, and close your eyes..

Whether it is a breathing practice, or when he needs to calm down, he always likes the feeling of your hands against his face.

Double points if you scratch his neck between those two spikes-!

Oh man, you're the best at those.

I feel like if Raph were approached with a situation where he's feeling possessive, he'd get all shy and nervous about it.

He feels as if it shouldn't be right for him to feel that way, I mean, y-you're already perfect so- why'd you wanna huffy puffy giant over your shoulder?

Nuh uh! He resists it all! Okay, maybe glare at the woman staring at you, and the dude biting his lip.

What's up with everyone and trying to snatch you up!? All the other people were wuss, and Raph got you first!

Eyes off punk!

Sometimes, when you're sitting on the couch, Raph just likes to plant his head on your lap and watch you do whatever you're doing.

The way your face scrunches up when a main character does something stupid.

Or when you giggle at a short video.

And when you subconsciously start rubbing your hand against the back of his neck.

It makes him shiver, with a deep rumble, and relax more into your warmth.

Sometimes you don't even know it, but Raph unknowingly takes your arm and just rests his teeth there.

Not even biting it, just resting his jaw between your arm.

Sometimes he adds pressure to feel the gummy-squish as he nibbles softly.

"Raph, Honey, you're doing it again." You'd say, smiling a bit as Donnie went on to explain what the mission was.

"Mhoin' wha'?" He muffled, looking down at your arm and letting go immediately.

He gets super embarrassed afterwards.

On the line of embarrassed, the MOMENT you leave the lair he's all giggly n stuff.

"Bro who gotchu smilin' like that?"

He brothers tease him so much for it, but he can't help but take it because ALL of what they're saying is TRUE.

Poor guy is lovesick, and all you did was make kandi together :)

Sometimes he likes to gush to Mikey about your most recent date, or the outfit you wore today, and the way you smiled while talking about your favorite food.

Mikey was eatin' it up. He declared Raph 'Downbad, Certified Love Chaser.'

Leo would side eye with every rant, pretending to throw up at every compliment Raph prayed your way.

Like bro, keep that to yourself thank yew very much.

If Raph ever talks to Donnie about you, he would simply be confused.

Why is Raph talking about crushes to Donnie? His heart belongs to the one and only Atomic Lass.

With all those words, he could literally program a bot. But he lets him talk, never really listens though.

I don't think i've ever covered this part of him, but how would Savage Raph feel about you?

Me personally, I see Savage Raph as a defense mechanism to protect himself when he truly thinks he's alone.

And in turn, it sort of makes him more turtle than teenager you know?

Let's look at this two ways;

If he did think you were a threat, he would probably hurt you severely. When snapping turtles find people as threats, they either hide or bite them.(I know many people don't like hearing that, but I think it's true)

If he didn't, then he would protect you as well. Maybe even huddle himself around you to create a barrier between you and the world. When snapping turtles want to show affection, they protect their mates from harm.

Do you see the vision?

Which brings me to my next point:

While Raph never wants to intentionally hurt you, ever, it still happens. Savage Raph, for example.

You guys will find yourselves in moments where you nick your hands or shoulders during cuddling, and Raph apologizes heavily.

He'll panic first, not knowing what to do because his mind's run a blank.

But after a lil pep talk with mind Raph, he gets himself together and grabs you a bandaid from his dresser, not before cleaning the scratch though.

When you guys train together, his punches can leave giant bruises on you and he feels guilty every single time.

You swear you're fine! You could take more!!

But Raph seeing you breath heavily will be like "Nope! Nuh uh, you're going to the med-room. I ain't fightin' you until you take a break!"

All Raph knows, he has a lovely sight to see everyday.

He couldn't believe it took so long to find it.

tehe I made it extra long for you<333

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა tags: @kittykittyanon @bonefanatic @oleander-nin @towomatos @thealphagirl

૮₍˶• .•⑅₎ა@ziipzeepzop-eez @wheezdostuff @spongejuice @cyb3r-st4r @matteo-hamato

@clown-froggi

if you would like to be added, check my blog. if you would like to be added, check my blog. SEE? I SAID IT TWICE!!

#yagurlchip❤️#yagurl writes #rottmnt #raph x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rottmnt #fluff #x reader #rottmnt x reader

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