#imanisinterest

CALL MY NAME

⚠️ Mature Content: Soft sexual touching / 🔞 18+ ONLY — Minor DNI

AN: This was our first “smut but no smut” attempt, and me and my moots @blackgurlnhermoods @zaziesource popcorn-wrote it. Shoutout to the girlies in @blkfichub’s comments who tried to guide us through writing smut because we struggled bad. We still didn’t want to do too much, but we tried. Enjoy the chaos.

SAFE

Dick halloran x Black Oc

AN: wasn’t gonna post this, but like Erykah Badu said, “Keep in mind I’m an artist, and I’m sensitive about my shit.

The house was quiet that late afternoon, sunlight drifting softly through the windows. Celeste Hallorann pushed the back door open with her hip, arms weighed down by bags of groceries and a little bouquet of wildflowers sticking out the top of one.

She’d bought them because she thought Dick could use something soft today he’d been restless all week, drifting into that strange stillness he got when the Shining tugged at him. She could always tell. He’d go quiet in a way that wasn’t natural for him, like the silence took a shape in the room and sat right next to him.

She dropped her keys into the ceramic bowl on the counter and called lightly,

“Dick? Baby, I’m home.”

No answer.

She frowned, gently setting the bags down to listen. The house creaked a little, as old houses did. A wind slid under the eaves. But no footsteps came, no warm voice drifting out from the living room saying, “Hey now, pretty girl,” the way he always greeted her.

Her stomach tightened.

“Dick?” she called again, softer this time.

Then she heard it.

A faint, rhythmic creak. Not the house, too steady. Too human.

She moved slowly down the hallway until she reached the living room doorway, and there he was.

Dick sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around himself. His body rocked back and forth, back and forth, slow then fast then slow again, like he couldn’t stop even if he tried. His eyes were open, but they weren’t looking at anything in the room. They were fixed on something far away… or something that wasn’t really there at all.

His lips moved. Words fell out in hushed mutters, disconnected, broken.

“No, no, no… don’t… I told you… get back… no…”

Celeste froze for a second ,not from fear, but from heartbreak. Seeing him like this always shattered her a little, even though she’d learned not to panic. She’d seen episodes before, but this one… he looked lost, truly lost.

She walked toward him quietly, careful not to startle him, but also unwilling to leave him trapped in whatever vision the Shining forced on him.

“Baby?” she whispered.

He didn’t react.

She crouched down gently, placing one trembling hand on his shoulder.

“Dick… Dick, honey, look at me.”

He didn’t blink. His rocking intensified for a beat-faster, tense, as if he were bracing against something.

Celeste slid her hand underneath his chin, turning his face toward her. “Dick,” she repeated softly, voice shaking, “come back to me. Please.”

His eyes flicked , like a snap of lightning behind them, and suddenly they focused. Really focused. He took in her face, her warm brown eyes, the panic she was trying not to show.

The muttering stopped.

He inhaled sharply, chest rising like he’d been drowning and finally reached air.

“Celeste…” he breathed, voice rough, disoriented.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Baby, are you okay? What happened?”

He blinked hard, grounding himself, then dragged a hand across his forehead as if wiping sweat. “I’m… I’m fine,” he murmured, forcing his voice into steadiness. “I’m fine. Just… it was nothin’.”

Celeste frowned. “Dick, that wasn’t ‘nothin.’ You were—”

“I SAID I’M FINE WOMAN!”

The words cracked through the room like a whip.

Celeste jerked back slightly. Shock flashed over her features sharp, visible. That tone… he’d never used that tone with her in four years of marriage. Not once. Not even on his worst days.

Dick’s face changed instantly, collapsing into horror and regret.

“Oh—Celeste, baby—” he stammered.

She swallowed hard, blinking fast as her eyes glossed over. She didn’t yell. Didn’t blow up. That wasn’t her. She just drew in a breath, nodding slowly in a way that said it’s okay, but wasn’t okay at all.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “You’re… you’re just shaken.”

She stood before he could say anything else and walked toward the kitchen, brushing a tear quickly off her cheek with the back of her hand. The quiet ache in her body made it clear she needed a moment, not because she was angry, but because she was hurt.

Dick watched her go, the guilt pressing down so hard he could barely breathe.

“Celeste,” he whispered to no one.

He pushed himself up too quickly, stumbling a little. His legs were shaky from the episode, but he ignored it, following her.

In the kitchen, she was unloading groceries with the gentlest movements, hands slightly unsteady. She didn’t say anything as he approached she just kept placing items on the counter, eyes glued to anything except him.

Dick stopped halfway into the room, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked… small. Scared in a way he rarely let anyone see. His voice lowered into a near-whisper.

“Sweetheart… please look at me.”

She didn’t.

He swallowed, stepping closer. “Celeste… baby, I am so sorry. I—I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to snap on you like that. “

Nothing.

She set a can down too hard, the metal clanked against the counter. She inhaled as if steadying herself.

He moved until he stood right behind her, but didn’t touch her yet.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded softly.

Slowly, she turned, only halfway, and her eyes shimmered with tears she refused to let fall. Her expression wasn’t sad.

It was pissed. Tight. Tired. Fed up.

“Oh, now you want me to talk?” she snapped. Not shouting. But sharp enough to cut.

Dick swallowed. “I jus—”

“No.” She put up a hand. “You need to listen.”

He closed his mouth.

She stepped forward, voice trembling with frustration.

“I moved to this town for you, Dick,” she said. “For you. I left behind my family, my comfort, my people , all to follow the man I love.”

Her breath hitched.

“And every day, every damn day, I get side eyed by white folks like I’m some intruder that wandered into their little postcard town.” She tapped her own chest.

“Do you know what that feels like? Do you even see it?”

He did. Too much. But he’d been too consumed by the Shine to see the weight on her shoulders.

“But I stay,” she went on. “I stay because I love you. Because I trust you. And because I believed you when you said this place would be better for us.”

She shook her head bitterly.

But where are you, Dick?” she demanded. “Where have you been?”

He looked down, guilt already rising, but she kept going.

“You’re gone every damn day,” she said, voice raising slightly. “Running behind that man like some kind of lapdog, yes, I said it, letting him use your gift to help him find something you ‘can’t talk about.’”

The words came out like they’d been sitting in her chest for weeks.

“You’re draining yourself dry for a man who doesn’t care if it’s hurting you,” she said, pressing her palm to her chest. “And it is hurting you, Dick. It’s making your episodes worse. I see it. I live with it.”

Her voice cracked, but her stare didn’t waver.

“And I’m still here. Every night. Every episode. Every time you rock and shake and stare at things I can’t see. I’m here holding you, grounding you, loving you through it even when it scares me.”

A breath.

“But what you not gonna do,” she finished, voice firm, “is snap at me like I’m the enemy. I’m the one person who’s on your side without conditions. And I do not appreciate being yelled at. Not for trying to help. Not ever.

Silence.

Dick’s throat tightened until it hurt.

He moved before thinking, dropping to his knees in front of her, hands reaching gently around her waist, forehead pressed to her stomach like a man begging for forgiveness at an altar.

“Baby…” his voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”

He held her like she was the only solid thing in his world , because she was.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered. “I swear to God, Celeste, I didn’t mean it. I ain’t never raised my voice at you before and I ain’t doing it again. I’m just… I’m tired. I’m scared. My head’s messin’ with me.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel alone,” he murmured against her skin. “Or unappreciated. Or unsafe. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

“You scared me,” she said quietly. “You scared me, Dick. I’ve never, never heard you raise your voice like that.”

“I know,” he breathed. “God, I know. And I ain’t ever wanted to be the cause of that. Celeste… I was seein’ things. Hearin’ things. That shine gets ahold of me and—”

She cut in, voice soft but firm. “Then tell me. Don’t shut me out. Don’t yell. I’m right here, Dick. I’ve always been right here. You don’t have to deal with this alone.

His arms slid around her waist tighter, pressing his forehead into her stomach again.

Baby, don’t say that, don’t ever say I’m alone when I got you,” he murmured against her shirt. His voice trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

Her breath hitched.

He took her hands, kissing them one by one. Like each was its own apology.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he whispered between kisses. “Didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, Celeste. Never. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. I just—”

His voice cracked.

“I’m losin’ my grip on it, baby,” he admitted, forehead pressed to her hands. “The Shining… it’s gettin’ worse. I’m seein’ things I don’t wanna see. Hearin’ things I can’t stop. And I ain’t got no manual for this. I ain’t got no teacher. It hits me like a damn freight train and I don’t know where I am until it’s over.”

He looked up at her from his knees, eyes shining with a kind of fear he rarely admitted to.

“I’m tryin’, Celeste. I’m tryin’ real hard to keep it together.”

Her expression softened , painfully.

“Dick…” she whispered, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Baby, look at me.”

He looked.

“You don’t have to be strong every second. Not with me,” she said. “If you’re scared, say you’re scared. If you’re hurting, tell me you’re hurting. Don’t shut down on me. Don’t go somewhere I can’t reach you.”

His eyes watered.

“ I didn’t want to burden you”.

“You’re my husband,” she said immediately. “Your burdens are mine. And mine are yours. That’s what we promised.”

He let out a breath that trembled like a leaf in the wind.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, voice thick. “You’re the only thing that pulls me back when the visions get too loud. You touch me and it’s like the whole world settles.” He pressed another kiss to her wrist. “I’m sorry I snapped. I was… stuck. And I heard somethin’ in my head and—”

“It’s okay,” she said softly.

“No,” he lifted his head, eyes sharp with sincerity, “it ain’t okay until you say it is. I don’t want you thinkin’ for even a second that I’d ever raise my voice at you on purpose.”

She cupped his cheek, thumb brushing his skin. “I know. That’s why it hurt so much. Because it wasn’t you. Not my Dick.”

He closed his eyes painfully.

“I’m still me,” he whispered. “Just… shaken.”

She nodded gently, placing her hand gently against the back of his head, thumb brushing slow circles along his scalp.

“Come here,” she murmured.

He stood slowly, she helped him , and the moment he was up, she wrapped her arms around him tightly. His arms circled her waist, pulling her close like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to his heart.

His chin rested atop her head as he breathed her in.

“You’re my safe place, Celeste,” he murmured into her hair. “When the world gets dark, you’re the only light I trust.”

She squeezed him tighter. “Then stay by me. Let me help you. Every time.”

He nodded against her.

After a long moment, she pulled back to point at him.

“And if you ever talk to me like that again, Dick Hallorann—”

He winced playfully.

LET ME

‼️18+ only. Sexual themes and implied oral sex. Nothing explicit, but definitely grown.

AN: This was written on my lunch break and posted immediately. I’ll fix it later but y’all needed Dick Hallorann content urgently so here ya go.

Celeste’s voice keeps going even after she knows she’s repeating herself.

“I just—Richard, it’s too quiet here. Too small. Everybody knows everybody and they all look at me like I don’t belong.” She exhales sharply, staring up at the ceiling. “Florida was loud. Warm. My people were there. My mama. My cousins. I could walk outside and hear music somewhere.”

Dick is on his side beside her, one arm propped beneath his head, watching her talk herself in circles. He hasn’t interrupted once. Just listens. Always does.

“And I’m not saying I’m leaving you,” she adds quickly, rolling onto her side to face him. “I just might need a few days. Go home. Reset.”

He reaches out then, fingers warm against her waist, stopping her mid sentence.

Baby,” he says softly.

She sighs. “See, that tone right there? That’s how I know you think I’m being dramatic.”

He smiles, slow, knowing. “No. That’s how you know I think you’re wound too tight.”

Before she can argue, he shifts closer, his hand sliding under the thin fabric of her nightgown, palm settling low on her stomach. His thumb traces idle circles.

You miss home,” he continues, calm as ever. “I get that. Derry ain’t Florida. Ain’t ever gonna be.”

Her eyes soften just a little. “Then why does it feel like I’m suffocating?”

“Because you don’t let yourself rest,” he replies. “You think your head gotta solve everything.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but he pulls her closer instead, rolling them until she’s half beneath him, the mattress dipping under his weight. The conversation pauses, replaced by the sound of breath and the creak of old springs.

“Richard—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Just listen for a second.”

His mouth moves slowly, like he’s got nowhere else to be. He kisses along her collarbone first, soft, lingering, before nudging the strap of her slip down her shoulder. The fabric follows his hand just enough for his lips to brush the warm curve beneath, a reverent kiss pressed to the peak of her breast that pulls a quiet breath from her chest.

“Easy,” he murmurs against her skin, like he’s calming her nerves one kiss at a time. “I got you.”

He comes back up again, settling between her legs. His hand cups her jaw, guiding her mouth to his as he kisses her open mouthed, tongue slipping in with an unhurried ease .

The weight of him presses close enough that there’s no mistaking it hard and insistent through the fabric.

“Dick—” she tries, the sound breaking into a whimper.

Her hand drifts down on instinct, reaching for him, but he catches her wrist before she can help him, pulling her hands back up over her head. He pins them there gently, mouth already reclaiming hers, tongue sliding slow and sure like he’s taking his time with her on purpose.

“I said I got you,” he murmurs against her lips.

He slides down her, palms sliding up her legs as he nudges the hem of her slip upward, lifting it just enough to take her in. The white cotton beneath is simple, familiar, and the sight of it makes him pause for half a second, like he’s appreciating her before touching her again.

She squirms at the attention, a soft sound leaving her throat, but his grip firms at her hips, steadying her. “Stay right there,” he murmurs, gentle yet commanding, before leaning back in, mouth hovering.

This what you do,” she whispers. “Distract me when I’m trying to be serious.”

He hums against her skin, hands firm at her thighs as he nudges them apart. " I do this when my wife is carrying too much."

The world narrows after that.

His head disappears from view, and what follows pulls her completely out of herself. Out of Derry. Out of Florida. Out of every thought she’d been clinging to before.

He pushes her right to the edge of herself. Her protests dissolve into broken sounds, her body responding before her mind can catch up.

The thought of leaving slips away, along with everything else.

Just him.

Just this.

Right here on the bed.

“Dick,” she breathes.

“There you are,” he murmurs, eyes dark as he leans in. “Been lookin’ for you.”

When it’s over, she’s quiet, relaxed.

Dick rises back up beside her, pulling her into his chest, her head fitting there like it always has. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Still wanna pack a bag?” he asks gently.

She exhales, long and tired and finally calm.

“…maybe tomorrow,” she admits.

He smiles into her hair. “That’s all I needed.”

For now, Florida can wait.