Dipsea 3 part. 1/2
Warning: smut (18+)
The rich aroma of coffee and fresh juice filled in and out of the cozy little shop, one of your go-to spots, especially on work-from-home days. Joe & The Juice had become your sanctuary—a place to grab your lavender latte, get some fresh air, and still knock out a few meetings. It was the perfect escape from your home office, letting you feel like you actually left the house for a bit. Working from home had its perks, but sometimes it made you feel like the walls were closing in, and this little routine helped break that up.
Today, you decided to sit outside on the patio, soaking in the sunlight on your face while making sure you wouldn't disturb anyone when you had to hop on a call. Your loungewear was on point, a comfy cream corduroy set that kept you warm against the breeze but light enough to stay cool. Your hair was slicked back into a low bun, as sleek as you could get it, with a pair of sunglasses perched on your head, doing double duty as both an accessory and a way to tame any rebellious flyaways.
Your lavender latte sat next to your MacBook, cooling down as steam gently escaped through the lid’s small opening. You reached for it, taking a careful sip, lips first, just like you learned from reading fanfiction recently. No one likes a burnt tongue, right?
Even though you picked a spot outside to avoid bothering anyone inside the shop, you were still close enough to hear everyone’s orders. It became this fun little game of people-watching and trying to guess what drink they'd go for, sometimes getting it right, other times not so much. It helped the time pass on those slow workdays when there wasn't much going on.
You paused your game for a second, glancing down at your laptop as a new email came in. With a sigh, you stared at the screen, wondering how to even begin drafting a response. While you were mentally debating your reply, a few people must've walked into the shop, ones who could’ve added to your guessing game, but you were too caught up to notice. You figured you’d get back to it once you dealt with this email from a colleague.
Leaning forward, you rested your elbow on the table and pressed your forehead into your hand, eyes closed, as you tried to think through the reply.
“Mmm, it’s kinda hard to choose,” a deep voice chuckled nearby, the employee laughed along. “Uuhh, can I get theee Big Smash protein shake, please?”
Your heart practically dropped into your stomach, but you kept your eyes shut. That voice... it was way too familiar. It immediately brought you back to last week—when you’d practically soaked your bed listening to it, your eyes closed just like now, as he whispered pure filth into your ear, guiding you through one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had. He knew exactly how to edge you, teasing with his "tongue" until you were a mess.
Heavy footsteps started coming closer, and every instinct in your body screamed for you to get out of there. But there was no way to gather your laptop, latte, and bag without making a scene, probably tripping and embarrassing yourself in the process. But then again, maybe you were overreacting. LA was full of people, some people sounded the same, so it had to be someone else, right?
You heard the screech of a chair being dragged from the table next to you—not the one right beside you, but the one in front of it. Whoever sat down definitely had a good view of you, probably thinking you were either stressed out or asleep if they were watching. You took another deep sigh, but this was nothing like the deep sigh you took earlier when you dreaded the email, it was shaky and hard to get out like the breath he told you to take at the end your "session".
“Breathe, baby,” your brain whispered unprovoked, sending a ripple of chills down your spine as you took a deep breath. You sat up straighter, freeing your hand from your head, which was starting to feel dizzy with... what? Delusion? Nerves? Whatever it was, it had you spiraling. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking a few times as the sunlight flooded your vision. You squinted, trying to adjust, and that’s when you saw it—his silhouette.
It was almost exactly like the one you remembered, framed in those familiar orange and purple hues from the erotic audio app. He wasn’t facing you. In fact, he seemed to have turned his chair slightly, angling toward the doorway of the shop. But the outline of his face was unmistakable—the sharp jawline, the way his beard framed his face. His head of hair wasn’t loose today. Instead, it was pulled back into a low ponytail, much like yours, though definitely not as sleek. His flyaways were more rebellious, wavy rather than coily like yours.
He looked like he’d just come from the gym, his tight muscle shirt clinging to every inch of his upper body. The fabric stretched across his broad chest, barely containing the powerful muscles underneath. The sleeves were cut off, exposing those delicious, sculpted arms—thick, inviting and practically begging for your touch. You could almost imagine your fingers tracing the veins that ran down his biceps, feeling the strength and warmth beneath your palms... maybe even more than that.
The black joggers he wore hugged his frame in all the right places, emphasizing the firm muscles of his thighs. Each sudden shift he made in the chair caused them to flex, drawing your eyes lower, tracing the way the fabric stretched across his legs. The joggers left little to the imagination, the way they clung to his body making it impossible not to imagine what lay beneath.
There was an AirPod in his left ear, a slight reminder of how you’d listened to that very same voice just nights ago, the way he’d guided you through your nut. His commands were still fresh in your memory, the tone that had made you fall apart, slowly unraveling you piece by piece until you couldn’t hold on anymore.
His skin gleamed under the sunlight, a soft sheen of sweat giving him a radiant glow. It was the kind of glow that only came after a hard, satisfying workout, his body humming with energy, muscles pumped and full. The sunlight seemed to kiss him, making his complexion even richer, more vibrant. He looked damn good—no, more like temptation personified.
As your vision cleared, you noticed the fresh haircut, the way his beard was perfectly tapered, lined up so crisply it looked almost too good. Everything about him exuded confidence and power, from the casual way he sat, relaxed but still commanding the space around him. He was slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his attention mostly focused on his phone. Every now and then, he’d glance up, probably checking if his drink was ready. And when he did, he wore a small, almost playful smile—likely from catching the eye of a barista.
Your chest tightened as you watched him, the way he moved so casually, so effortlessly, and yet, he felt miles away. You quickly looked away, afraid he might feel your eyes burning into the side of his head. Turning your attention back to the email on your laptop, the words on the screen now looked like a jumbled mess. There was no way you could focus—not with your Dipsea lover sitting right across from you. Maybe a few more sips of your latte would help calm your nerves.
You reached for it, not even looking, and almost knocked it over, managing to catch it just in time, but not without letting out a tiny squeal. You froze, immediately feeling his head snap in your direction.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought, mentally rolling your eyes at yourself.
"Wow, such a good fucking girl..." His voice, the one that had basically lulled you to sleep not long ago, cut through the air, vibrating straight into your chest. Your head whipped toward him so fast, you barely had time to breathe.
"I—I'm sorry, huh?" you stammered, your breath catching as your eyes met his. He repeated himself with a soft chuckle.
"I said, 'Whoa, that was such a good catch.' That would've been a disaster, those MacBooks aren’t cheap." His laugh was easy, warm, and familiar, though he had no idea just how familiar it really was.
You laughed nervously, relief washing over you.
"O-oh, yeah... thanks. I guess I got lucky, huh?" You could hardly believe you were actually talking to him—the man who had no idea this wasn’t the first time his voice had filled your ears. The same voice you were planning to listen to again tonight.
You hadn’t hit play on the latest “Listen” audio from his series yet. You were savoring it—all nine parts of it, stretching them out to make the experience last. You’d been holding back, planning to save each one for moments when you needed to decompress, to unwind. The plan was to pace yourself, maybe one a week, or longer if you could resist... but with him sitting so close, resisting seemed impossible. If anything this was driving you further and deeper into the fantasy of it. Not only were you extremely star-struck and screaming from the inside, but this fueled any and all desire you had for that little app. He was for sure a walking advertisement.
He nodded, showcasing those pretty teeth and those deep smile lines. "Absolutely. So, what do you have in there, if you don’t mind me asking?"
Wait—he wanted to keep talking? Your heart started racing, practically hammering in your chest. Was he offering you another chance to embarrass yourself?
"Oh, uh, this?" You awkwardly pointed at your cup. Of course, he meant the cup, not your MacBook. You really thought he wanted to know about your homework assignments or work deadlines? God, get it together.
"It’s, um..." You quickly glanced at the receipt taped to the side. "A lavender latte with two shots of espresso, oat milk, and cold foam... well, I mean, you probably don’t care about all the details. It’s really just a lavender latte, you know, with some addictives. Uh, I mean, additives... like, extra stuff... personal preferences... things I like." You were rambling. "Not that you didn't already know what I meant by additives... I’m just gonna... yeah, shut up now."
Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you forced an awkward smile, wanting to disappear. He smiled back, his expression soft, a blush creeping across his cheeks as he looked down briefly, clearly holding back a laugh. He didn’t want to make you feel worse than you already did, and somehow, that made you more nervous. He had to know by now that you recognized him—though not just as the famous wrestler. But he had no clue about the other version of him you knew.
“Not that you asked, but I got the Big Smash protein shake. Ever had it?” His voice was casual, but there was something lingering beneath it, something that made your pulse quicken.
You shook your head, reaching for your coffee, taking a slow sip. “Nope. I’ve only ever had this. Trying new things makes me... nervous.” You set your cup down, but what you really wanted to say was: you make me nervous.
He caught onto it. “Are you sure it’s trying new things that make you nervous?” His tone was playful, teasing, but there was something about it that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten. Butterflies—no, something more powerful—flitted through your body, leaving you buzzing.
Your head tilted slightly, confused but intrigued. That teasing smile still on his lips. Then he asked, “Or is it Daddy making you nervous?” His voice dropped an octave, deepening with an intimate tension that made your entire body feel like it was suddenly on fire.
A nervous laugh bubbled up from your chest, your hand instinctively reaching to scratch the back of your neck as if that would soothe the heat rising to your face. “I—I'm sorry?”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I said, is it trying new things that make you nervous, or the additives?” He smirked. “Like those extra two shots of caffeine you added.”
For a second, your mind raced—was he messing with you? Was he saying one thing, then flipping the script? It felt like he was playing some kind of game, pushing your buttons in ways that made your body react before your brain could catch up. Whatever it was, it was driving you insane.
"Joe!" The barista called out from inside.
Saved by the barista. You almost let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the interruption. First, you nearly spilled your coffee, then you rambled like a nervous wreck. Now this? Classic. Joe stood up slowly, pushing off his knees with a grunt that basically rubbed your bud. It was just a small sound, but it echoed in your body, causing you to press your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache that pulsed between your legs.
“It was nice talking to you...” He trailed off, waiting for your name.
You gave it to him, almost too breathless to say it. His smile widened, a gentle, genuine one that only made you weak. “Beautiful name. I’m Joe, by the way.”
He leaned toward you, offering his hand. The moment his hand touched yours, the ache you felt below was on a whole new level now. His grip was firm but his palms were soft and warm. He was truly a gentle giant. The veins running along his hand were prominent, like contour lines on a map, guiding your eyes to the places you wanted them to go. His fingers squeezed yours just enough to make your mind wander—imagining them elsewhere, gripping your body, sliding inside you, pushing you to the edge over and over again.
You had to fight back a moan. Had to hold yourself back from imagining his hand wrapped around your throat, holding you in place, controlling you, like he described in that audio. You know, when he talked about holding you still, keeping you from running.
You hoped he couldn’t see those thoughts swirling in your eyes. You covered it up with a smirk. “And you came to Joe and The Juice?” you teased lightly, trying to keep the conversation safe, even though your mind was far from it.
He let out a hearty laugh, finally letting go of your hand, and you almost mourned the loss of that contact. But you were also relieved—any longer, and you weren’t sure you could keep your composure. If he kept holding you, you might’ve done something reckless, like pulling him closer, imagining him doing all the things your mind was racing toward.
“Of course,” he replied with a grin. “It only makes sense.”
You nodded in agreement, matching his smile. “It does…”
“Order for Joe!” the barista called again, breaking the moment.
Joe nodded at you one final time. “Have a great day,” he said, that same charming smile still on his face.
“You too,” you replied, mirroring him, your voice softer than you intended.
As Joe walked back into the shop, you watched him disappear, biting your bottom lip, feeling the tension still coiled tight in your belly. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second, and you let out a soft, muffled whine. The man had overstimulated you in the middle of a coffee shop. He hadn’t even done much, but the way he talked, the way he looked at you, touched you—God, it was more than enough.
Your imagination was running wild, mixing reality with fantasy. He hadn’t talked dirty to you, but your mind filled in the blanks, weaving in the audio clips you knew so well. And now, here you were, hot, bothered, and stuck—your panties ruined from a conversation about coffee.
You sighed in frustration, throwing your head back as you closed your laptop. There was no way you were going to finish your work now. Besides, your shift was almost over, and that email could definitely wait until tomorrow.
Right now, you had a date—with that same man’s voice. You were going to go home, put in your earbuds, and let him take control, just like you had planned... except now, it was going to feel so much more real.
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Omg this was a perfect little filler. Hope ya'll enjoyed this little tease!
Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi
@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80
@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld @mzv11
@tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee @sayyestoheav3nn
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A Little Help?
warnings: fem!reader, drugs, cullingunus, riding her face, dub-con??
desc: Your usual comes into the brothel you work at, after dealing with the mess Vi and others have been making in the Undercity.
You waited near the bar, sipping your martini. It was another slow day at the brothel. You typically do not work this much, clients were hesitant to visit the brotel considering Silcos minions were barricading and seizing shops to find someone. That reminds you, you’re usual hadn’t come for the past few days, and she pays heavy. Everytime she’s here, you leave with a purse spilling of money. You huffed, playing with your straw in your martini. Just then, you smell that signature smell, her cigar, no one else smoked that kind of cigar around here. A smile played on your lips as you turned to see your favorite client, Sevika.
You skipped on over, studying her face, she looked mad, real mad. You expected as much, with Silco doing this much around Undercity, Sevika was sure to have a ton of work to do. Of course she’s here to blow off steam, how much? Who knows.
“Here, for 4 hours. I need to get work done.” Sevika said, shoving a fat load of cash to your chest, walking past you , taking a drag from her cigar as she went to her assigned VIP room. As usual, you crawled into her lap, kissing her lips, jawline and neck. Your eager hands unbuckling her belt. You looked up at her like a dog waiting for water as she stood up, sliding her trousers down. And adjusting herself back onto the chair.
You kissed along her thigh as she held a few documents in hand. As you pressed your tongue against her cunt, her eyes remained on the papers, as if she was unamused by your performance.
“What is it with you today Y/N? Do your job or I'll get someone who can.”
Her voice dripping with irritation. She gripped your hair, looking at your with disapproval making you look up at her. She took a vial of Shimmer from her bandolier.
“This’ll help”
She poured it into your martini, she handed it to you. You were hesitant, you knew she wouldn’t have it today, if you continued like this she’d take her payment back. With a sigh, you gulped it down. You felt it from your fingertips to your toes, suddenly your body felt light. Within an instant, your head was shoved between her legs. Your tongue revenging her like never before. It made you feel alive, you wanted so much more. You could feel her breaking apart with every lick. Your giggles haunting her as you slid fingers in. She had enough of it.. suddenly lifting you in the air as she lied down.
“Go on, sit”
She told you, with pleasure you sat on her face riding it. You were on the top of the world, smearing your juices onto Silco’s right hand woman, the talk of Undercity. You giggled and moaned, biting your acrylic nail as her pierced tongue explored you inside and out. A guttural moan escaped your lips as you helplessly rode her face, her short hair being the rein. Needy whimpers fell from your lips as the room spun around you, swallowing as your eyes rolled back, creaming on her face. It made you wish maybe that pink haired girl would visit often, to have Sevika riled up like this was a novelty. By then, her work was long gone, she’d have to receive that scolding from Silco later, tonight her pockets will be emptied.
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augh. rewatched btvs 5x22 scene where spike & buffy go to buffy's house to get weapons before the big showdown. them having to retrieve weapons is such an amusingly flimsy excuse to have them go to her house so we can have the scene where she invites him in + he promises to protect dawn + "i know you'll never love me" speech. i love a paper-thin excuse to put 2 characters in a room together. especially when those characters are buffy and spike!!!!!!!!!!!!
it really is so striking the way spike refrains from asking buffy to let him in even though he would be perfectly justified in doing so as it's obvious that buffy has forgotten he's not allowed in. i think part of it is that he wants to make it clear that he will respect the boundaries she has set with him. but i also think part of it is that he doesn't wanna feel the pain of being rejected again, because that fucking hurt. if he doesn't ask then he doesn't have to hear her say no again. it shows how head over heels he is for her and how much he has changed since the beginning of the season, when he was challenging her boundaries so much.
spike's expression when he's walking thru the doorway......it's so endearing and some really great acting from james marsters. first surprise and disbelief, then glee which spike is trying very hard to restrain because these are grave times. and yet he can't help feeling so joyous that buffy trusts him. he glances as the doorway like he's thinking "ah yes what a nice house" which makes me laugh because it's so stupid but also sweet. i think it's him trying to play it cool and doing a not so good job of it. there's such a lightness to him - it reminds me of the feeling when you think you did something to upset your friend a few days ago and you're anxious that they've been angry with you all this time and you finally gain the courage to ask them about you and it turns out they were never angry or upset at all. the giddy relief you feel.
and then there's that little moment of tension where they're standing so close together and you think something might happen but then spike breaks off and goes to the weapons chest and starts rambling about what they should take. it's so notable that it's him who gets nervous and moves away. so different from the way he behaved with her in fool for love, getting up in her space and trying to make her admit she had feelings for him. he's accepted that she'll never love him back, and moments like this where it feels like maybe there could be something between them are too painful, so he disrupts the moment. moves away.
jumping to the end of the scene - i love that buffy is on the stairs when spike does his little speech. she's physically above him. "you're beneath me." not only that, she's ascending, just as she ascends at the end of the episode, accessing a level of heroism that spike will never be able to meet. rewatching this part, spike's expression really surprised me. when he says "i know you'll never love me," he doesn't look at all bitter or resentful. his face is open, understanding, compassionate, and thankful. because that's what this speech is - he's thanking her for treating him better than he deserves. he's so grateful for the respect and trust she has given him. it has been truly transformative, as we've seen. only he doesn't get to the actual thanking part, because he cuts himself off, saying he'll wait for her down here. i think he cuts himself off because he realizes that this isn't what buffy needs to hear right now. she's got an enormous battle to prepare for, and a sister to save, and spike's feelings simply aren't important. so he stops mid-sentence for her sake. i think we're meant to understand that the only reason he started to say this at all is that he really thinks he might die tonight and it could be his last chance to let her know what it has meant to him to be treated like a person capable of doing good.
i've focused on what's going thru spike's head in this post bc i think buffy is a lot harder to read here. which is interesting bc sarah michelle gellar as buffy is so expressive that usually you can always tell exactly what buffy is thinking. but when she's with spike in these episodes toward the end of season 5 it's difficult to tell how she regards him. i think a lot of the time even she doesn't really understand how she feels about him. their relationship is so paradoxical. she relies on him but she reviles him. she wants him around but she finds him intolerable. i might rewatch the scene again and make another post about what might be going thru buffy's head, but for now i'll leave it at saying that i kind of love how spike's feelings for buffy are crystal clear to us and buffy's feelings for spike are much murkier. spike started out as this cool mysterious antagonist, whereas buffy has always been the protagonist and we're constantly seeing things from her point of view and being made to understand how she feels. so it's kind of fun to see that flipped a little bit. and it also rings really true for me how buffy in this moment is like, i have 5 billion things to be worrying about right now, i cannot even begin to process whatever feelings i may or may not have regarding spike. and with all of that said........there really is a softness to the way she treats him in this scene. and it's nice.
anyway. these two ✌️ gonna go jump off a tall tall tower
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I’ve gotten requests from several people for more Reth and Hassian polyamory headcanons over the last few days! You seem to really like these guys lol, so I thought I’d satiate you all with a little imagine-scenario of them and you snuggled up. Enjoy!
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Warmth.
Warmth is all around you at the moment. The fireplace to the left of the room wafts comforting heat directly to your bed, where you lay with two most important people in your life: your boyfriends, Reth and Hassian. To add to the atmosphere’s accumulating warmth, your sides suddenly become protected by their bodies. Their arms curl around your waist in whatever space they can find, and their hands smooth over your skin, leaving goosebumps in trails. A wide smile grows on your face and your eyes temporarily close with happiness.
“There’s that pretty smile I love so much,” Reth murmurs.
When you open your eyes, you see Reth in front of you, holding your waist with one arm and using the other one to cup the side of your face. As if on cue from the lack of attention, Hassian’s arms tug on your waist from behind. His face seeks warmth and solace in the crook of your neck. A blissful hum leaves your lips as you take in both sources of touch.
“I’ve missed you,” Hassian whispers.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetheart,” You whisper back, moving your head to the side to kiss his forehead.
Hassian melts further into you when you kiss him. Reth watches and smiles, moving down to press his own lips to Hassian’s forehead as well. Hassian scowls and bashfully hides his face completely in your neck, making both you and Reth chuckle.
“Aaand there’s that fluster that I love so much,” Reth grins.
“Be quiet,” Hassian quips immediately. “It’s been a while since I've had the opportunity to be with you both . . . I’ve been lost without you.”
You feel your chest swell with affection following Hassian’s shy admission. He rarely ever expresses his vulnerabilities openly, like this. You and Reth are the only people he can confide in to hold his heart. Trust is an issue with Reth, as well, yet similar to his boyfriend, he can’t help but spill his emotions out to you and Hassian. It’s an ironic dynamic that benefits the boys, and you were the powerhouse they’d cling to whenever they’re too shy to explain feelings to one another.
Reth stares down as Hassian with you, his gaze softened. He’s missed Hassian too after all this time, so maybe he shouldn’t be too flimsy with how his partner feels. Reth snuggles into your blankets, until he’s pressed against your chest. Here, he’s close to both of you, his favorite place in the world. Reth drapes his arm over both you and Hassian and nestles into your skin.
“Sorry,” Reth says to Hassian, his voice no higher than a whisper. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut whenever you’re talkin’ feelings.”
Hassian looks down at Reth from the crook of your neck, his eyes sleepily half-open. His face feels warm, but he shakes the sensation away.
“It’s fine,” Hassian mumbles.
There’s a small period of silence following. You all could have ended the night there and gone to sleep, leaving Hassian’s heart to simmer in its subtle bitterness. Reth knows better than that, though. After a few seconds of laying in the quiet, Reth reaches up an inch and presses a kiss to the hunter’s lips. Hassian’s heart skips, but he quickly closes his eyes and kisses back. You smile as you witness their kiss linger and slowly deepen, displaying just how much they missed each other. You’re relieved that they’re so raw with one another, despite their blighted pasts.
They both sigh when the kiss breaks, sharing the same thought process after prying their gazes away from each other—they wanted you. Hassian’s hand that curled around your waist softly caresses down your stomach, stopping at your hip, where he gently grabs. Reth hums with delight as he feels your fingers sift through his dreadlocks, then softly moans when you massage his scalp. As Reth closes his eyes and curls up comfortably in your embrace, Hassian watches. His heart is pounding just from being close to the people he loves, his love for you both palpable in just one glance.
“It’s late,” Hassian advises in a low murmur. He pecks a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, then continues. “Rest now. I’ll wake you all in the morning.”
“You’re not talking about 3 AM, right?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at him as you scratch Reth’s head.
“No,” Hassian says with a chuckle. “Around 7, perhaps? That’s an hour later than usual for you. Or, Reth, do you need to be up at 4?”
“Up at 4,” Reth mumbles, bliss and happiness in his voice. “Wake me up however you want.”
Hassian blushes and rolls his eyes, making both of you giggle and snicker.
“Fine. I won’t be nice if you want to sleep in,” He replies.
Reth scoffs, then says, “Rude.”
Hassian smirks, all before settling back in the crook of your neck and closing his eyes. He’s tired. Everybody in the bedroom is tired. Yet, it’s a pleasure to be so tired while next to each other, like this. There’s an atmosphere of comfort and coziness mixed with love and affection, a fatal concoction. Finally, silence falls upon the room. Only the crackle of dying embers in your fireplace are heard as you all consume each other’s warmth, touch, and love. It doesn’t take long for everyone to fall asleep in such a state of peace, content with reunion.
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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Seven
TW: medical stuff, talk of dying, nsfw
The next time you go to see Detective Washington Linda is there. She’s always there, bless, and you think that maybe she could use a change of scenery. “Would you like to get a coffee with me?”
She blinks up at you, as though the thought of being anywhere but by her husband’s side never even occurred to her. You sympathize, maybe even more now than a few days ago. You know that if Tom was in that bed…you would be losing your fucking mind. You try not to think about how real a possibility it could be, with the dangers of Tom’s job. Of how it could be not if, but when.
You need caffeine.
You go to the little café, Linda following a step behind you. You order a super sweet frappe drink that barely masquerades as coffee. She gets a latte.
“So…how is he doing?”
“Better,” she answers, looking into the frothed milk atop her coffee. “Stable, now, thank god. But…when he wakes up, we’re still going to have a long road ahead of us.”
“Yeah,” you acknowledge, understanding all too well. “But he’s strong. And you are too. I can tell. You’re going to make it.”
“We were going to leave LA, you know? That money they found in the car? We sold our house. We were going to start over in the Bahamas.”
“Well, maybe you can still do that? After he recovers? I’ve seen people recover from gunshots really well.” You hope you’re soothing her, instead of breaking her psyche down even more, but in truth you’ve never really thought you were good at this human connection stuff.
Linda gives you the tiniest of smiles, and it warms you up more than the steaming cup in her hands. “You could be doing anything with your break…Why are you coming to see me?”
“I don’t take breaks,” you say, leaning over with a smile like this is top secret highschool drama stuff. “Well, not usually.”
She laughs in a huff. “Well, thank you.”
“I wanna be there for you,” you tell her truthfully, toying with the plastic, icy cup in your hands. “I think you could use a friend if I’m not mistaken?”
“You’re right,” she nods, looking down into her own brew. “Although I’m sensing you need the company, too? After all, the only person I’ve seen you around here with is Ludlow.”
Oh….Oh.
Yeah, you suppose it makes sense that everyone knows by now. Tom is a little hard to miss, and you’ve been pinned to his side since the grocery store shootout. Every piece of you wants to defend him again—from the venomous way Linda says his name—dust off his badge and put him on the pedestal he deserves, but this isn’t about Tom…or you right now. “I’m… sorry,” you say, unsure of what else to provide. You bow to her grief, her anger, her pain, because sometimes that’s just what you have to do.
“Can you just tell me something?” She asks, her sorrow suddenly forefront.
“Of course, anything.”
“Tom…didn’t try and hurt him? Did he? He didn’t help the shooters?”
“Linda… No. Jesus, no. Tom, he…” you rub a hand over your face, forgetting that you’re wearing mascara to work because you feel this new sense of pride and confidence and beauty thanks to the subject of your current conversation. “He tried to help him, just like me. He did what he could. I swear to you.”
“And if he didn’t? Would you still be with him?”
For some reason, and it’s a reason you’ll have to do some soul searching about later on, you hesitate to answer that question. Because you’re not sure. Not sure if you would have blacklisted Ludlow for being involved with Washington’s near death, or comforted him about it—“you did what you had to.”
It’s scary, to give all of yourself when you…fuck it, when you love someone. Push morals and decencies and laws aside for a person. Lose yourself trying to justify their behaviors. You’ve been here, what? A dozen times? With friends, family, lovers. Thinking that if you could just see something in them, some redeemable quality, maybe that would erase all their copious horrible ones.
So, would you? Defend Tom if he had tried to kill Linda’s husband? You answer with what you truly believe:
“He wouldn’t. Maybe he would try and fight him. Break something, even. But he wouldn’t kill him, Linda. I know he wouldn’t.”
She appraises you with something in her eyes that resembles trust, and it makes you wonder what you did to deserve it. “I believe you,” she says, confirming your suspicions about her expression.
“Look. I know…our boys have had their differences. I know I don’t know the details. What I do know, is that Tom is determined to find the guys who shot your husband. He’s…all in on that.”
You’re surprised when Linda frowns at hearing this. “And what does the almighty Captain Wander think about that?”
Now you’re frowning too, because her skepticism maybe puts some things into perspective for you. You remember what Tom told you, about going around the official channels to get things done. “Honestly? I’m not sure it’s official. I just know Tom is on it like a missile. He’s not going to give up.”
Linda sighs, looking down into her coffee. “There’s a part of me that just wants to sweep all this under the rug and start over. But the other part of me?” She looks up at you, a fierce fire in her honey-brown eyes that makes you feel like you just stumbled on a lioness on the prowl. “The other part of me hopes Ludlow kills them all.”
***
It’s a long, hard day. The weather is getting colder, although it’s hard to call outside cold right now, especially considering where you’re from, but dropping temps, no matter how insignificant Kansians think they may be, still come with colds and sepsis and lung troubles, even here in sweltering LA.
It’s easier to get through the shift, though, because you’ve made a new friend, and she’s pretty damn cool. Linda is fierce, loyal, beautiful; you would envy her if it wasn’t for admiration getting in the way. Even better, you just seem to click with her so naturally, the vibes between you are immaculate—you feel like you’ve known her your whole life, and that’s really rare to have with someone.
You chart with a smile for once, because you really hate charting more than anything else on God’s green earth, but take a pause when your phone vibrates in your pocket.
Hey, baby, am I still picking you up at 1930, or you gonna be late?
Your smile sharpens and spreads, warmth flaring up your bones like freshly plugged Christmas lights, at Tom’s message.
I can do seven thirty if you stop distracting me.
But I miss you :(
Oh my god. Now you’re blushing and giggling.
C’mon, you know you’ve been thinking about me all day.
Nope. Forgot your name, actually. Who is this, anyway?
I think it’s time we give you that spanking.
I can take the bus home….
You know I will stop that bus with my lights and sirens on.
Fuck u, handsome.
Maybe after I turn that little ass red.
You roll your eyes, scoffing just as hard as clenching. This man is going to kill you. He’s so goddamn sexy it should be illegal. And he’s making all your dirty little fantasies come true while simultaneously making your heart melt. You shove your phone back into your pocket, determined to go back to work so you can actually get out at the time you’re supposed to, but it vibrates again.
I’m very serious about pulling that bus over. Don’t even try it.
Yes, officer.
Good girl.
What a dick. You’re absolutely head over heels for him. Asshole.
How the hell are you going to betray his trust and let Julian have his way with you? How are you not going to feel crippling guilt every time you look into those coffee brown eyes? How. Furthermore, is Julian going to want to keep doing this with you? Training you like you’re some sideshow pony? You grimace at the thought.
It’s wonderful, how when you see Tom all those bad feelings seem to go away—especially since he picks you up in full uniform, those delicious glinting handcuffs strung proud to his belt. You bite your lip when you see him, and he kisses the sting away.
“Working late?” You ask, shimmying your thumbs into his belt loops and pulling him closer. It’s been long, hard hours without him, and you missed him more than you want to admit.
He presses you up against the wall, just like you want, and tucks stray, wild hairs behind your ears. “Had a residential disturbance,” he says, “let me make you dinner.” It’s beautiful, how such mundane things sound so sinfully promising through his voice.
“You are dinner, Officer Ludlow.” Because God, you really have just been aching to lean into this cops and robbers fantasy that he started on that dark highway. All you’ve been able to think about is getting on your knees and undoing this uniform and sucking him empty.
Fuck Julian, and your job, and everything else when he kisses you with a growl, hands cupping the back of your head and threading through your hair so he can get you closer. He either really likes this feral beast you’ve become, or really doesn’t like it judging by this lip splitting dance of tongue and teeth that leaves you gasping for breath. “Careful, baby, might have to lock you up and keep you all to myself.”
You do love the sound of that.
***
You ask Tom to take you somewhere…somewhere high and airy where you can look down on the city of Angels. The city you both protect, with shining colorful lights that fight valiantly against the dark night. Tom holds you in his arms, chin on your head, and you don’t mind that all the shiny bobbles on his uniform poke at you. You feel so safe, right here, even though you’re alone in the woodsy hills of LA, and it’s because he has you securely tucked between his biceps.
“Something’s going on with you,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “I can tell, you know that?”
The fine hairs along your spine lift, and you hide your face in his arm, trying with all your might not to start crying like a baby.
“I’m just scared, of those guys trying to get rid of me…” it’s not a total lie, although it, surprisingly, between Julian’s clutches and Tom’s freedom, is the least of your worries.
He pulls you closer. “Listen, baby, I’m gonna protect you. I know you’re not used to that, to someone having your back, but I do. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere…not even if you want me too.”
You chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”
“I think I should probably ask you out properly, but I’ve been a little nervous.”
Your chuckle turns to confused laughter, and you look up at his sheepish smile. “The unbreakable Tom Ludlow, nervous?”
“Yeah, that you’re gonna tell me to go pound salt…again.” He tries to smile his way out of that statement, but his eyes droop and the corners of his mouth twitch with the effort of nonchalance. And you are a fucking asshole for trusting Julian and snubbing Tom—that’s all you really know for sure.
“Will you go out with me?”
His grin turns authentic, and it scares you how much lighter you feel now that he’s genuinely happy again.
“Yeah,” he agrees on the soft crown of your hair.
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pixy stix - r. suna
prologue || Pumpkin Patch
words: 1.2k
masterlist || all hq works || next
"Did you cast a spell on me to make me yours? I want you to be mine."
Steam, pour, serve. Over and over. She had only been working at this job for a few months at this point (one of her friends showed it to her). It definitely wasn’t the worst one she’s worked. Apparently, you can get sick of Halloween, or more specifically Halloween Music. You can also get sick of making pumpkin themed drinks. The smell followed her home when she left the pumpkin patch. She could smell it in her apartment and on her clothes even after washing them over and over. Maybe it wasn’t Halloween she was sick of. It was pumpkin.
One highlight of her day– though she would never admit it– was the scare actors coming in on their breaks to get a drink. “Have a good time scaring children?” She comments as she grabs a cup to fill with orange juice. Every day without fail he would order an “orange juice on the rocks” , something about hating apple and pumpkin flavored drinks. After months of having phantom smells she was beginning to agree with him.
“Of course, have fun being surrounded by pumpkin?” He leans over the counter as his eyes scan her figure as she wades around the kitchen. He can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face at the sound of her laugh, how her head turns to look at him over her shoulder.
“Never. It was fine the first few weeks,” she sets the glass down in front of him, “One orange glass on the rocks for a Mr. Suna Rintaro.” She smiles and winks at him. She can faintly hear a gagging behind her and her eyes meet with Sakusa and Sav’s as they shake their heads. She rolls her eyes and flips them off before turning back to Suna. “So, how’s it going?”
“Same old, same old. I’m stuck on hayride duty today.” Hayride duty, where he stands in the same spot in the pitiful trees that they call woods and jumps out to scare people. It’s his least favorite assignment to get as most people are too preoccupied looking at their phones to notice the actors in the woods. His favorite is actually the pumpkin patch, he doesn’t have to do a lot to get a scare out of the adults and the kids make him laugh when they grab a hold of his legs and tell him they think he looks cool. For some reason it makes him gleam with pride.
“Wanna switch?” She teases and pokes his shoulder.
“And make pumpkin drinks all day? Yeah, no thanks pretty girl.” He pokes her back and takes a drink, his lipstick smudging on the glass as he hadn’t bothered to take his scare makeup off.
“Whatever. Go sit down somewhere and stop distracting me,” she waves him off towards a table in the corner. He grabs her hand and presses a sloppy kiss to it, a grin breaks out across his face as he watches her crinkle up into disgust. “Eww!” She gags and wipes the back of her hand off on his sweater. “Gross. You disgust me.”
“You want to kiss me so bad.”
“I think it’s the other way around.” Her eyes met with the group of people that just walked through the door. “Seems I have guests to serve, now go sit down.”
“Yes ma’am.” He does a pretend salute and sits down at the table. He watches as she handles the orders with practiced ease, he’s not aware of Sav sitting down across from him until a hand is waved in his face.
“I think you have something written in bright red letters across your forehead.”
“Hmm?” He barely pays her any mind as his eyes continue to watch the girl at the counter with an easy smile on his face.
“Yeah, it’s the word loser. When are you going to tell her you like her?” That gets his attention as he finally turns his head to look at her.
“When are you going to tell Sakusa you like him?” He smirks as he thinks he’s won their little battle.
“I already did.”
“What? When? Happy for you!” He reaches a hand over the table and pats her head.
“Last week, now stop deflecting. When are you going to tell Y/N that you like her?”
“I don’t know, I’ll probably take it to my grave.” He shrugs and leans back in the seat, arms going behind his head as he tilts it back and closes his eyes.
“You two frustrate me.” Sav groans and almost puts her head in her hands before remembering the makeup that’s on her face can’t get smeared more than it already is. “Well, enjoy living in your delusions I guess.” She gets up and sighs as she looks back over to the expo counter. “Your lipstick is wiped off by the way.” She gestures to her mouth.
“I know,” he smirks and opens one eye to look at her. “It’s all part of my plan.”
“What plan?”
“Y/N carries lipstick with her so I just steal her lipstick.” It’s almost funny how proud of himself he sounds about this plan. He sits up and finishes off his drink, to really sell the deal though he grabs a napkin and wipes his lips.
“I didn’t think your pining could get worse. I was wrong.”
“Wish me luck,” he winks at her and goes up to the counter. He patiently waits in line for Y/N to be free to talk. “Hi pretty girl, I am in need of chapstick it seems.”
“Hi silly boy, it seems you are.” Oh– that’s a new one. He likes that. “What do you want me to do about it?” She leans against the counter and rests her chin in the palm of her hand.
“Well, I heard from a little birdie that you happen to carry lipstick on you.”
“And if I do?”
“Can I borrow it?”
“I don’t know…let me think about it,” she says as she pushes off the counter and opens a drawer to pull out her purse. Her hands dig through the velvety material inside, combing through the random things: chapstick, a hair tie, a receipt for a movie, ah– finally. Her lipstick. “Here you go.” She hands it over to him but he shakes his head.
“Put it on for me? I’m terrible at staying in the lines.” A lie. He doesn’t like other people doing his makeup, it makes his skin crawl. But her? Oh he would do anything for her. She could run him over and he would say thank you.
“Fine, come here silly boy.” He leans down and she unscrews the cap and starts applying the lipstick to his mouth. “This is transfer proof, I’m surprised they haven’t bought any for you guys.” She hums more to herself than him. “Okay, all done. Now, get back to work.”
“Thank you, pretty girl, see you tomorrow.” His heart should not be beating as fast as it is right now. He knew he liked her, but he didn’t think he liked her that much. Okay, he needs to calm down. He has never been more thankful for hayride duty than he is right now.
a/n: this is just silly goofy autumn fun where they're idiots who pine very loudly for each other and make it everyone else's problem <3 a break from the angst of my other series if you will lol
taglist: @akaakeis @eggyrocks @hiraethwa @wyrcan [please send an ask to be added or removed from the taglist <3]
if you enjoyed, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb, or sending me an ask <3 I love interacting with you guys <3
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just found out my german textbook from 2015 is incredibly sexist
from "Lektion 1":
there's only Sekretärin when every other profession had the "/in" to point the masculine and feminine
under Krankenschwester there is "(female) nurse" ("enfermeira" in pt), but there's no mention of a male nurse? so i dig up in the dictionary and found Krankenpfleger
it might be outdated because i also found Pfleger and Pflegerin so if anyone who knows more can help me know which one is more commonly used i'd be very grateful !!
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i was gonna say "i shouldn't have to go to work when my brain feels like a depression slushie" and then i was like "wait but then i'd basically never ever go to work" and i'm actually doubling down on the first part now bc my god how am i supposed to heal my brain from burning out 5 years ago if i can never get an actual break
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KR!!!!!!!!!!!!! NELKE!!!!!!!!!!! WHOMST TF EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
LET ME IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET ME IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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the shelter i volunteer at sends out notices when an animal passes away or is scheduled to be put down, and I genuinely respect and appreciate the transparency, but also… fuck, they’re so jarring.
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Since today is Thanksgiving and all that, I'm thankful for the conversation I had with my sister yesterday that led to me figuring out a lot of stuff for my Stormshipping Cinderella au so I can start writing it a lot sooner than I thought I would because I'm slow as shit. Chazzerella is on the horizon! Next year babes 👀
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i am having a weird day and gonna rant about it in the tags one more time before i go to bed!
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literally the biggest mood of all time, ms williams
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why the fuck do i miss pigeons
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practical writing advice
part 2
avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.
STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!
plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.
do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.
pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.
take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.
sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.
that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.
if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!
i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !
ok thanks bye
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