#idk i just think maybe some of this could have been avoided - not all of it but like
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its interesting when ppl start discussing the experience u have had your entire life and calling it transphobic and stuff 👆 like damn ive been telling people this for years and now im rethinking everything
#the thing in question is saying you like everyone but cis men#ive been sayin this for many years. i just dont. or maybe i do but its such an intangible thing id never date one idk#but i saw someone discussing how excluding cis men others trans women (dont remember exact) phrasing and idk#i kinda saw their point#i still feel like i like everyone but cis men tho#i have had crushes on n dated cis girls transmascs n transfems#i dated a cis guy once but it was very.. if u know me u know i have obsessions with people and those can happen regardless of gender#it seemed to be one of those#before and after that cis men haven't even been in the question of attraction#maybe the fact i have one exception proves i actually do like them or something i dunno#ive also had the dilemma plenty where i want to just call myself lesbian but that sucks 2 any trans men i like so. i go back n forth on that#but i like to have some sort of warning sign on me that says If You Are A Cis Man Do Not Even Try To Date Me#bc cis men liking me irl makes me GAG dude i fucking cant handle it at all#the cis guy i dated was online so like. i could avoid the gag factor i think#but idk#that experience made me realize i could never ever date a cis man again which is classic lesbian expetience 77292929#it is not for me!#lucky strike
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Folks, can we please tag posts regarding current events? not everyone is in a space where they should be seeing content like that quite so frequently
#lynx thinks#there is obviously more nuance i could add to this statement but i tried tj keep it straightforward#tag your current events and news so that those who arent up to seeing more about that than they'd like don't have to#and i get it can sometimes be a privilege to avoid those topics at all if ever but like#the human brain iant designed for a constant deluge of depressing information#and some people have trauma that could be seriously triggered by some of these headlines ive been seeing#completely untagged stuff just being shared around. some posts dont wven have text that can be filtered either#even if you come up with your own unique tag for all serious irl stuff thats still better than leaving everything untagged#i genuinely can only stand to look at news articles for so much of my day before my mental health dives#and i cant avoid social media completely because thats where i network for my commissions#but i dont want to unfollow everyone that posts untagged things#tumblr can filter some things but if you tag stuff then theres a better chance of it being filterable#also on an unrelated note it's probably not a good idea to just reblog evwrything you see without vetting the source#you could accidentally be contributing to the spread of misinformation if you don't check the source before rebloggong#idk. maybe this is privileged of me to even ask. im just So Tired. every day it's just mote death and doom and im so... tired
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feeling silly, might merge all my bee gees 3 ocs into one single big lore
#rena.txt#vio in my heart is My Tav. the others don't give me that same vibe maybe it's bc she's here since early access as my first play#i feel like i want them all to be a big one party. some travel with her others join later etc. i've been thinking a lot about it actually#and it would make sense in some parts like when she joins g/rtash i feel like w/ll and k/rlach would leave her. i feel like w/ll would#leave with mango (bard oc lmao) to try to save his father and all. i like to think of fiordispina and m/nthara doing their thing#in parallel to what vio has going on and join her later maybe. zefyr could be with vio..it would be all so cool i love having ocs interact#i think i'd leave out only iustitia since they are the durge. in their play i also want to pretend the dragonborn durge is there as the#third sibling just bc i love the default one so much for no reason skfjskdjsk#idk i like it better for my ocs to interact in one single world rather than being all tavs i need to think this over..#don't mind me censoring the names btw just avoiding to show up in the tags lmao
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would be cool this yr to do like first aid training maybe?
#toy txt post#hope i can. get an opportunity to do that. not sure when. the horrors and inability to commit to things u see#but i think i should do that#at some point. altho i feel like i will almost certainly have to do CPR training? and like. like it seems like useful knowledge. and like.#i should know it and maybe im the worst person in existence for this but im a bit of a germaphobe and scared of covid and im not taking my#mask off so like. feels like. that is pretty mutually exclusive with CPR unless thereve been advancements im not aware of?#like would i be able to carry around some sort of billows but for human lungs to do that instead of my mouth? idk. this has in fact been#a legitimate hurdle to me wanting to pursue first aid training. sorry. genuinely dont know how to reconcile that and maybe! in a crisis#situation id overcome it to save a person. genuinely do not know. sorry im like a selfish horrible bitch tho and i cant see myself#doing CPR and am icked by the idea of even learning it. i know now they make those things to put on someones mouth but its still like.#that doesnt do anything against respiratory shit...idk. like is it worse to not pursue any of this at all to avoid the ethical quandry of#not wanting to deal with CPR even as a concept bc im a stupid baby squicked out by lip touching? or is it worse to do first aid and learn#like everything except CPR so i could still theoretically help in some cases that arent necessarily CPR. idk. im sure im just a Bad Person#for this and hate to even admit it. i think i should at least try to find a stop the bleed course or smth ig
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#hello darkness my old friend. I have insomnia again#it seems i wont get back to sleep. making this the 4th night in a row of 4 to 5hrs sleep. woof#is it insomnia or am i on the bleeding edge of hyp0mania? idk its weird. i can feel the strain in my head#my thoughts dont connect as well. its like im being pulled in two directions. my brain becoming spaghettified. growing thin around the#middle. but im not as tired as one might expect. ive been pretty productive and optimistic but anxiety and internal restlessness are up#like im tired but also i need to get up and pace around. maybe jump up and down. maybe run in circles.#the energy comes in waves. sitting in lectures or sitting for the extended addition of l0tr has been somewhat unbearable#bc im so contained. i would not ever get up and walk around while those things were happening but i desperately wanted to#ugh. whats my problem? who's to say. could also b the medication. i see the psychiatrist next week and i think ill beg to b put back on#lam1ctal. just bc when i was taking it on a super low does i had a week or feeling the most normal i think i ever have in my life#anxiety and evil thoughts were so small and i felt happy in a way im not sure i ever have been#like i think under normal circumstances i just have a low capacity for joy. at most i feel neutral. like i was telling my friends how i#might do some field work in winter and they were enthusiastic abt it and i kno y bc it sounds cool but idk i just dont feel anything abt it#i cant see past the pain it will take to get there. and i mean mood wise i feel alright on 4bilify like in a nutral way but stable isnt#the same as feeling happy. but maybe its all just in my head. 25mg lam1ctal shouldnt b enough to b effective#but idk i think im just sensitive to the chemicals in my body. including hormone fluctuations. idk. i hope she lets me switch.#itll b a pain in the ass to readjust in terms of going off what im on now and it might not work#but theres literature on retrying lamicta1 and they say to avoid inflammatory reactions in the first 2 months. which i did not do. oops#not that i was trying. i didnt think abt it until id had a million holes poked in my skin and was experiencing a mild tatt00 allergy#ugh. anyway. tbh id prefer this being hyp0mania vs insomnia bc then at least i can continue to function a bit during the day#ive never done anything that wild while hyp0manic aside from injure myself from over exercising and make bad choices in how i spend time#ie become insane abt something and not b able to think abt anything else. ugh. and i guess at this point ive tentatively accepted the idea#of being bip0lar. so i swear to christ if i was misdiagnosed ill b so mad. its just that if i fill out an 4dhd and bip0lar checklist. i#get a way heavy positive with bip0lar and the 4dhd is meh. so i think i just have overlap in symptoms due to dyslex1a and 4utism#ugh. me and my collection of diagnoses. so it goes#unrelated
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really fucking sucks that it does not matter how openly we cry about how fucked up we are after everything this year has put us through, we are just. ignored. like. we're very open about having abandonment issues & a burden complex, but nobody gives a fuck abt ensuring that isn't. you know. constantly fueled in the aftermath of all the shit this year put us through.
we haven't suffered in silence. quite the opposite. but we're literally just. ignored. & left to rot. no matter how transparent we are abt how badly we're doing. & it sucks. like it's getting to a point where we're genuinely starting to get apathetic towards our friends & we don't fucking care to fight it off anymore.
if my friends were posting the kinda shit we do during our meltdowns, id be rushing to call them as soon as i could. maybe im just different. maybe im just a dumbass for caring so goddamn much! cause jfc it clearly isn't mutual no matter what!
how am i supposed to fight off my persecutor telling me nobody fucking loves me bc i don't deserve it when i can beg for somebody to lend their hand to me, & all i get is silence.
we haven't been checked up on. anyone we used to talk to daily has just decided we're too depressing or whatever to be around, i guess. like. idk what anyone wants from us anymore. i really fucking don't. all we want is to have somebody give a shit abt us & fucking MEAN it. actually be there for us. actually take care of us the same way we take care of everybody else.
but nah nah instead we're just. having our complexes fueled. our persecutor's ammo refilled, meanwhile we're left with nothing. absolutely fucking nothing.
the best relationship of our lives couldn't even last longer than a month & no matter what, we can't fight being made to feel like we just weren't worth keeping around.
we've never escaped being "too depressed to handle" as our token in a friend group, but like. idk. maybe if we weren't made to constantly feel so fucking alone & like nobody genuinely gives a shit abt us, we'd be able to At Least cope a bit better.
idek what to do or say anymore. like our persecutor gets on our ass for saying "nobody cares" like "oh well you're just being manipulative & fishing." bitch i GENUINELY fucking feel like nobody fucking cares about me & not a single goddamn person has tried to significantly fight that notion to any genuine degree.
it'll be fought with filler words in the moment, but again. nobody checks on us. nobody just randomly tells us they love us and care about us. nobody does the little things we've always done for our loved ones we know are going through rough times. even if we directly tell people it helps. so, what the fuck else am i sposed to say or think.
im tired of feeling like this. im tired of being lonely, and unloved, and uncared for, and like it's all fucking pointless. im tired.
i just feel like we're just forgotten about until we're needed. but when we are the ones who need someone else to help us? well, we can just fucking rot, then. i guess. we're just an annoying burden who's too depressing to be around. not worth any genuine effort. and we cannot keep fighting that notion when nobody gives a shit to stand with us against it.
#mine#vent//#i just had to get this out. like it's to a point where it's even significantly hurting our little.#they often are the one making our statuses the way they are on our priv discord#& like. idk. v much fucking sucks ppl KNOW we have a little in our system who tends to front the most#the statuses on the acc are not some uwu im depwessed moment. it's a little being hurt & crying for help#& just. being ignored. like... idk. idk what to do or say or think anymore. wtf are any of us sposed to do w this.#what does anyone want from us. we've been open abt how brutal this year has been. how badly off we are#& our health has only gotten WORSE & worse. we have no idea what's even going on w our body anymore#but like! the aspect of maybe smth is seriously wrong & we could be hospitalized or need surgery is just like.#cool i literally do not fucking care bc nobody else would. so what's the point!#im tired of being in pain and suffering alone. it hurts & it's cruel & it all feels so empty.#i just dont fucking know what to fucking do anymore. none of us do.#we just usually sit in a circle in the front & hold each other to avoid having a breakdown/meltdown everyday#bc we feel so suffocated by the loneliness & misery & having to fight it on our own.#fucking... bullshit. i wish i could stop caring i hate having a heart it isn't worth it i wanna tear it out
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much to think about.
#i had lunch w my sister today and she was talking abt our dad and abt how him being like emotionally abusive made her a huge people pleaser#and she was like yeah i think you didnt get that as much#you were always the one who stuck to your guns or just didnt talk to him#and at first i was like what bc i literally dont think anything i ever did could be rlly described as actually sticking to ones guns i alwa#felt like i was so avoidant of any conflict w him bc yk i was like. terrified of him. but i was thinking abt it and compared to her i think#like yeah actually shes right? bc i would avoid conflict w him but i did that by like fully cutting off our relationship as much as#possible and she did it by trying to please him all the time. which probably neither were that healthy obviously they were jsut like. our#instincts for how to protect ourselves yk. but the thing is for the past few months i thought i had been learning how to not be so scared#of making ppl mad and to be more assertive and stuff. but i think actually i probably have always had that strength maybe it was just.#kinda beaten down for a while since standing up for myself always made things worse. so the other option to not allow him to treat me like#that was to cut myself off from him. But i still did that yk? idk.#like i was thinking more abt it and#i was the one who left the church at 18. after i moved out but i did. and i didnt hide it after that. my sister has apparently been mentall#out for years now and nobody in our family knows but me. bc she is so scared to disappoint him. and like idk. i always was like why couldnt#i get out earlier bc i know so many ppl who just said fuck you im not going anymore at like 14 or smth and i was like why couldnt i do that#but i guess looking at it from my sisters pov our situation was just really fucking hard. and i guess im realizing i was honestly a lot#stronger and braver than i thought i was that whole time. idk.#lol its like bittersweet. bc it makes it so much more real that it was actually super fucked up. the way we grew up. like i think sometimes#the easiest thing is for me to go haha yeah my dad was kind of a dick and whooaaahhh so crazy i grew up mormon hahah! but its like no that#was fucked up. but look at how i made it through that yk. its kind of making me. idk. develop some more respect for myself i guess#idk idk#ignore me i am just journal posting . lol#exmo tag
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There are some things I don't think I will ever be able to forgive my parents for.
The internal voice in my head that blames my pain on what i did or didn't do - mainly didn't do, because of course if i moved around more i wouldn't be injured (let's just conveniently ignore/forget most of my injuries happened while at my most active). And obviously i don't move around enough because 1) they didn't see it and 2) i'm fat (derogatory).
This is, of course patently incorrect. first of all i am shaped like a gravitationally-powered time piece and have been since i was young. But apparently that is enough to be deemed "fat" by my family since i grew tits at age 9-10. Like and fat isn't a bad thing?? and you can be healthy and active while fat??? and i was! i was very active and...well i can't say healthy during that period of time because i was actively starving most of it because - as i was perceived as fat - i was berated about my food intake (at *minimum* it was commented on snidely) and constantly monitored about what i could have and when i could have it. My parents were on yo-yo diets constantly during my teen years when i was running Multiple Miles A Day, at minimum 3 days a week, or swimming actively anywhere from 2 hours a day 3 days a week to 3 hours a day nearly 5 days a week.
My knee blew out and swelled up to 2x its size while i was a councilor in training at a summer camp for 2 weeks. My shoulder blew out mid lap, mid practice and i finished the practice before i mentioned it and it *was* x-rayed but i never found out what happened to it. If mom heard back about it, she never told me. I *fell off* horses TWICE, once getting kicked in the ribs at 10, and the second one i tore a huge chunk of skin off my hand and had scrapes on my back from getting dragged through gravel. AFTER WHICH I WENT TO SWIM PRACTICE. And then there was the tap dancing which i did *along side training for half-marathons*. WITH MY PARENTS. I DID THIS WITH THEM. THEY KNEW I DID THIS MUCH.
but because i tended to stay pretty stationary at home (god why wouldn't i? even if i wasn't fucking DISABLED with a CHRONIC PAIN ISSUE from my CONNECTIVE TISSUE DISORDER (as of yet unnamed specifically - i *really* need to get my shit together and see a doctor) I was exhausted because i WAS RUNNING SEVERAL MILES IN THE MORNING AND THEN EXPECTED TO TEACH MYSELF MY OWN FUCKING SCHOOL WORK.
but yeah i was lazy and didn't move around enough and so any injuries i got, or stiffness and pain when i moved from my stationary position was my fault. My knee wouldn't have blown out if i didn't sit with it tucked up underneath me. My shoulder wouldn't have blown out if I...idk been more careful??? doing the same stroke i'd been doing the same way for several years at that point?
I walked FIVE MILES A DAY, EVERY DAY, FIVE DAYS A WEEK. at my most recent job *just to get to the damn job*, let alone the 10-12 HOURS ON MY FEET WHILE THERE before i burnt out (gee I WONDER WHY) and thankfully shortly thereafter i got a car so I could make it to the shifts I could still work at that point, ones that got shorter and shorter as my body just failed right out from underneath me. IN FUCKING FOOD SERVICE. (notably a rather physically intensive job)
My pain during my desk job years was from sitting still too long. My pain during training during my athletics was from not stretching enough, not being careful enough. My pain during the physically taxing jobs was because i didn't move enough during the day so of course i was going to hurt myself.
no matter what i did. it was my fault i hurt. it couldn't ever be that there was something wrong with me that they needed to help me look into. And i internalized the shit out of that.
I tweaked my back the other day. Don't know what i did. it's been like 3 days now, and i move really stiffly because it's my lower back, near my hips and tailbone, and it hurts to move. i've taken meds 2ce today and i am *really bad* at taking meds during the day. i stretch during the day, i get up and move around as best i can - i might not do it as often as i probably *should* but if you were in pain you'd do your best not to move as much too! it hurts!
but gosh if i only moved more, lost weight, could turn straw into gold and spin my hair into a rope to reach the stars. Then I wouldn't be in pain and really it's my own fault. Right?
#feeling salty today boys#salty and in pain#i've just taken 600mg of ibuprofen so hopefully that'll kick in soon#but god i'm so tired of blaming myself for the fact that i lost the genetics lottery in my family on this front#idk i just think maybe some of this could have been avoided - not all of it but like#some
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#I kind of wish they'd given Armand at least one or two clear positive traits but idk maybe they did he just can't actually be#owned to them because he's built up so much SHIT and doubt around himself and towards Louis and tries it also with Daniel it's like#Impossible to say anything positive isn't also negative by association of how it serves to uplift his negative motivations#But I mean just to throw some out there??#I think he's naturally curious and uh... I think he at least wants to try being better?#But its fails miserably because he's so narcissistic and withholds far too much of his intentions and actions#He views a lot of negative traits as positive ones and positive traits as negative when there in contention with himself#I feel he conflates a bunch of things on terms of whats good behavior and bad behavior because he'd been adapted to it that way#He wants to be better but doesn't actually commit to it.#Thats sort of the unfixed sense of self coming in#Armands opinions on things have clearly changed to be diametrically different to what they were 70 years ago#But he also severely avoids owning up to all negative things about himself.#I think one positive trait is that he can regret his actions? He can self reflect.#but I don't think he self reflects enough to see the truth behind his actions or what future actions could have in consequence#Guilts good because then it's not a total lack of empathy there. But he displays it in such a guilt trippy way it becomes negative.#A lot of things about Armand are just like that actually.#His most natural impulse is to simply destroy everything but he loses that impulse if he can love care or wield control over that#I feel he recognizes he cant let such impulses run rampant but then he's just sitting on a mountain of repression to make his self image#appear better than the very very dark shit that's him underneath#These two things can't... integrate properly.#Partly because he's always in the wrong envoirment for it because he can't obtain this through gaining it out of other people actually#I think its disingenuous to say he's in total awareness of his actions as bad and that he's doing all of this to be intentionally harmful.#Even if he is at fault and consequence for them#and like unless there's an outright lie I think a lot of the things he says are things he genuinely believes but they just come into#so much contention with others and their safety and values etc.#But he could just as easily be orchestrating all of this with full awareness and intention. So it's really an interpretational thing.#Most of this is like ... not talking about his positive traits lol. They're there he's just too much of an asshole to get to have them.#Like if I were to place a disorder on him it'd be histrionic narcissist.
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#fave#videos#thank yoooooooou#you get it#characters arent people and people arent characters#people irl deserve redemption. characters dont need to have redemption and sometimes its hurtful to the story if they do#i COULD make a redemption arc for zero-- but it would be stupidly complicated within my characters relationships given whats hes done in#the past. plenty of my ocs still would never want to be in the same room with him. it just adds unnecessary coffee au drama thats just not#the focus of my story at all. and hes not even a real person. hes an idea- an amalgamation of bad experiences I and others have had#manifested into one being that seeks to inflict these pains#likely his redemption arc would come from no longer being a vampire. but idk where he would go. and i really dont care to write it tbh#i have other minor antagonists I think would be better suited for a redemption arc than him. hes just done too much shit.#just in the same way a lot of azula stans would say ozai is irredeemable thats how I feel about zero.#and its how I feel about azula too tbh. yeah her story is sad and its possible to sympathize with but shes like a machine at this point#her humanity has been stripped away by her abusive father- and I dont think it would serve the narrative to have her suddenly appear#in a therapists office and crying about her trauma or whatever.#in this video he mentions how some ppl think its more 'realistic' to have her redeemed but... i really dont think it is bud#clearly you have not dealt with an azula in your real life. they're impossible to get along with and MOST people stop interacting w them.#they do end up isolated and alone bc of their actiosn. even if those actions are informed by a complex abuse system.#its sad but its also an important story to tell so people can at least maybe see themselves going down that route and stop themselves#characters help give examples to people of what would've happened if they made this or that choice. and thats the purpose azulas narrative#shows. irl people deserve a second chance and thats why we make these stories so they can know to try to avoid acting a certain way that#will only in the end harm their chance at a second chance.#not that its impossible- just that less people will be willing to go along w you on it than there would've been before you fell down hard
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the wall of not doing things has been absolutely awful lately and i genuinely have no idea why anymore. like i am just stupid why do i feel like i'm being crushed by a mountain every time i try to focus. what is going on lol
#ok i do have some theories but considering how much tamer everything is currently it. does not convince me#like maybe it's the fact that i'm putting 90% of my mental energy into um. both thinking and avoiding thinking about certain things?#idk it's weird. i'm trying to keep myself from spiraling and so far maybe it's working? but i wouldn't say i'm not doing any obsessive shit#like currently i just spend most of my days being nervous and tense and not doing anything and sometimes i. remember and go#'ooh that's right this is where all my brain cpu is going'#but idk. again i'm not spiraling it's way more manageable than it has been other times. but maybe that's exactly it#i am managing and it's taking. a lot of effort. that apparently i cannot put into studying anymoree#i kinda wish i could just have a mental breakdown about it and move on but history has shown that this doesn't work <3#anyway. i hate to say it but honestly part of it could be that i have not seen my therapist in two weeks#too much bullshit thoughts nowhere to vomit them so now they're just. festering#i mean i am very obviously currently trying to exteriorise a bit with those way too long tags#will it work since etiquette is keeping me from being specific. who knows#anyway trying with the linguistic again. goodbye
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Lexy!!! I've literally just thought of this so it might be awful, but I love the jegulus you've written and I think in most scenarios I see reader falling for James first because he's the more outgoing, ask-for-what-you-want type, but what if she first met regulus as a cat animagus? And she gets really attached to him, and he get really attached to her sweet-talking him all the time, and when eventually she gets to know him and James in-person he's just already so much more comfortable with her than he is with most people? Idk this could be a request if you like (but no pressure!) or just a ramble but I'd love your thoughts on it either way (again, if you feel like it!! no worries if not my love <3). Hope you're having a day as lovely as you are!
I don't write nearly enough for these two so I was more than happy to play around with this!! I think it also stems from Regulus being the type to (rather reluctantly) accept love than to pursue love, but after spending any amount of time with James, I could totally see him feeling capable of accepting it and perhaps giving it away too! so this was fun, thanks for the prompt, my love!!!!!
poly!jegulus x shy!reader who makes a little friend [2k words]
CW: fem!reader, reader is shy....I think that's it, OH reader thinks maybe people are making fun of her at one point but they're not so it's chill
Where James was all bravery (and a ceaseless amount of emphatic assertiveness), Regulus was cunning through and through.
Was Regulus’ approach perhaps a bit understated? Sure. But was it also effective? Well, he certainly thought so.
People like you required a softer approach; an approach James wasn’t well-practised in (nor well suited for). Someone as shy as you could handle James’ loud proclamations and brazen flirting even less than Regulus had.
Besides…they didn’t really have time for James’ approach, because if it took Regulus himself three years to come around to James’ advancements, well…they didn’t have three years.
So, Regulus spent time with you the only way he knew he could that wouldn’t cause your shoulders to migrate to your ears or cause you to avoid eye contact with anyone within a 12 foot radius of yourself. As a cat.
As a very sleek and refined black cat with piercing grey eyes; what? Regulus wasn’t afraid to admit he was a particularly attractive little feline.
And you certainly didn’t seem to disagree.
“Oh there you are, sweetness!” You exclaimed as he trotted his way over to you; a little brrp escaping his mouth at the endearment rolling off your tongue so easily at the sight of him. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”
Regulus spent some time rubbing along your shin and hip that he could reach thanks to the way you were currently seated with your back against an old oak tree.
“Well aren’t you just so handsome, hm?” You cooed, and Regulus felt his heart thrum (or perhaps that was just the sensation of the dramatic purrs you were eliciting from his animagus form).
Regulus somehow found it far easier to give affection in this form; there was something far more vulnerable in offering Sirius a sincere hug, or even asking James to hold his hand than there was in stepping up onto your thigh with his little paws as he used his head to rub against your shoulder.
That, and his feline form didn’t seem to get so caught up on such human feelings like vulnerability or abandonment issues.
“Such a sweet boy.” You murmured, rewarding him with chin scratches. “Where do you go after you say bye to me? Hm?” You asked him then, and Regulus actually found himself desperate to tell you. Desperate to say “I’m right here! I’m always here! I’m just usually accompanied by a great bumbling sod who is just as crazy about you as I am but is far less gracious about it!”
Regulus wondered then when he became the sort to admit to holding a flame for someone? Agreeing to go out with James had been a sort of relenting “oh shit, yeah, fuck, I’m sort of in love and wildly sexually attracted to my brother’s best friend, aren’t I? Damnit, well, alright then I guess.”
But falling for you had been an active choice on Regulus’ part; he’d set up the playing field with strategic manoeuvres and expertly playing the hand he was dealt. He manipulated moments where he would get the chance to spend time with the unbridled you; the version of you perhaps only those closest to you ever got to see, and perhaps not even then.
The you that you were when you didn’t feel the need to perform for others. The you that you were when you were completely free to be yourself.
He hoped that the comfort and ease you found in his company like this would one day translate to comfort and ease in his company whilst in his human form, too.
It was official; Regulus had officially lost the plot. He’d become a lovesick fool and a complete sap planning moments for the two of you to meet and dreaming of the day he could tell you just how he felt.
He’d been spending too much time around Gryffindors, it was time to see a mind healer.
You had been resting with your head back and face pointed towards the sky above you that was partially obstructed by the canopy of branches and leaves above you before you took a deep and definitive breath in.
“It’s almost time for class, kitty.” You murmured softly, looking down at Regulus with a look of adoration and perhaps some regret that you had to leave his company.
That’s sort of how Regulus imagined he and James looked every time you left the room, not that you’d ever noticed.
But before Regulus could be particularly perturbed by that thought, you actually bent down and pressed a kiss to the space between Regulus’ ears.
And with a grace and assuredness Regulus not often saw on you, you stood and headed towards the castle for your next class.
“Oh my Godric, she kissed you!” James squealed as he removed the invisibility cloak from his person.
Regulus let out a startled hiss and felt his tail poof up in an attempt to make him look far more intrepid than he actually was.
“Awe, you’re so cute when you think you’re scary.” James cooed as he reached down to give Regulus a scritch only to be swatted away rather aggressively by his boyfriend.
“Regulus!” James chided as he held his hand protectively against his chest. “That was very rude.”
“There were no claws, you tosser.” Regulus muttered as he returned to his human form. “What were you even doing out here?”
James shrugged in nonchalance as he tilted his head up to the sky in much the same way you had but moments ago. “I was bored so checked the map to see where you were, and then saw you were here and wanted to see the magic in action.”
“You’re so lucky you didn’t sneeze and blow the whole thing.” Regulus spat, though James was either ignorant to his boyfriends grumblings or choosing to ignore them.
“She’s so lovely, isn’t she?”
Regulus hummed in agreement, ire quickly melting away as he looked longingly (like the lovesick sod he was) in the way you’d left.
As he moved to lean back against the tree beside James, his hand came into contact with something distinctly unnatural.
“Oh?” He murmured as he pulled an open journal out from under him, the page currently resting on a beautiful sketch of…him?
“Merlin’s tits. Did she draw you?” James breathed out in disbelief as he pulled the journal closer to him.
“Don’t be ridiculous James.” Regulus chided as he tried to ignore the quickening of his heart. “That could be any cat.”
James hummed in clear disagreement as he adjusted his glasses. “‘I wish I could paint; there’s no way I can portray the beautiful grey of this cat's eyes’” He read from a small patch of scrawl beside the image with a little arrow pointing towards him.
“I think I just found our in, Jamie.” Regulus murmured quietly before looking at James with an arched eyebrow.
Yup, he’d definitely been spending too much time in the company of Gryffindors.
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
You were fanning the tip of your quill against your lips as you stared off into space again. You couldn’t believe you lost your sketchbook. It wasn’t like you’d been drawing anything particularly crude or inappropriate, but somehow the thought of someone actually looking inside the little world you’d been building had you feeling naked.
“Is this seat taken?” You heard from above you, causing you to straighten up so quickly that your knee met the bottom of the table with a painful thunk.
It was Regulus who had asked the question, but it was James who asked “Shit, are you okay, love?”
“Sorry. No.” You mumbled quickly, face heating up to near painful temperatures. “Erm, I mean, no, that seat’s not taken, and sorry, I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to apologise to me, angel, the victim was that poor knee of yours.” He continued as he took one of the two seats across from you, his furrowed brows pointed resolutely at the span of table you’d accosted moments ago.
“What is it that you’re working on?” Regulus asked you then, nodding his head towards the blank parchment in front of you and the quill that had spent just about more time in your mouth than it had on paper.
You felt your shoulders shrug nervously as you stared resolutely at the blank expanse before you.
“Not much, it seems.” You admitted quietly. “I, erm, I’ve lost something recently.”
“Your sketchbook.” James and Regulus chorused, and you winced at the whiplash you nearly gave yourself in moving your gaze to them.
“I…yes, my- how did you know I’ve lost it?”
Regulus shrugged calmly as he looked down at the table in front of you. “It’s odd seeing you without it, quite frankly.”
You hardly had a moment to feel horribly uncomfortable to realise that Regulus Black and James Potter had ever noticed anything about you before - let alone something that, for whatever, reason felt particularly sacred and personal to you - before Regulus pulled out your sketchbook from his bag.
“You…had it?” You whispered, feeling disturbingly close to tears imagining this to be one of the Marauders pranks where they spent one evening flipping through the pages for a laugh.
“You forgot it…down by the oak tree on the grounds.” Regulus offered quietly as he carefully slid the closed book towards you.
“We didn’t take it.” James added as if sensing your concern.
“Did you look at it?” You asked quietly then; staring down at your long lost book now gripped tightly in your hand rather than at the two boys.
“Just one page.” James admitted as he shifted in his seat. “It was opened to that page when we found it.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Regulus began, “but I may have added something to the page we found it on.”
You looked up at him expecting to see some devious or malicious smile gracing his face, but you were only met with a look far softer than you ever imagined possible on the young Black’s face. It looked…dare you say, hopeful?
You looked back down at the sketchbook to see a little tab sticking out about ¾’s of the way through and opened it carefully.
The parchment crinkled and groaned as you opened the book; protesting as if it had been subjected to water or rain only to be completely dehydrated again.
And inside, the sketch of the little feline companion you’d come to love had been transformed into a beautiful water painting, the tail charmed to swish back and forth every so often as its - now the perfect shade of grey - eyes blinked at you.
“I thought the sketch to be beautiful, but you wanted it painted and I wanted to do that for you.” He admitted quietly; voice no higher than a whisper.
“You got the eyes just right.” You murmured in awe before your eyes flit up to…a matching pair. “They’re your eyes.” You amended disbelievingly.
Regulus simply smirked, though even that appeared soft.
You looked back and forth between the two boys, neither seeming to know quite what to say, but neither seeming particularly inclined to leave your company.
You realised then that they’d been with you like this - in your company, that is - before.
You looked down at your sketchbook and began flipping through the pages before stopping at the one you were looking for and handing it to James.
James accepted your book and held it as if it was something precious as he smiled down at the page.
It was a sketch of him laying on his back across one of the benches in the quidditch stands as he casually threw and caught a snitch - the snitch and his arm charmed to move. You hoped that wasn’t too creepy - having a drawing of him in your personal book - but you had been up there first before his friends came to hang around, and they hadn’t seemed particularly bothered by your company at the time.
“You’re very talented.” He said simply, and you felt your shoulders relax from the worry of him being uncomfortable.
“Think you can paint that one, too?” You asked Regulus quietly, and you felt your heart stutter slightly when his face lit up into a beaming smile.
“It’d be my honour, beautiful.”
Oh gods…what did you just get yourself into?
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#regulus black#james potter#jegulus#poly!jegulus#poly!jegulus x reader#poly!jegulus x you#poly!jegulus blurb#poly!jegulus imagine#poly!jegulus fluff#poly!jegulus fic#poly!jegulus ficlet#poly!jegulus drabble#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#james potter x regulus black#james potter x reader#james potter x you#shy!reader#fem!reader#ellecdc fics
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uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer
series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii
pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.
summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.
a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3
warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.
w/c: ~4.6k.
tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):
@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie
“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.
You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.
The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.
You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.
You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.
That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.
Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.
The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.
“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.
Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.
However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.
“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.
When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.
You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.
“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.
You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.
“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.
His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.
Your mouth watered.
You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.
His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.
“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.
Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.
Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.
“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”
“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.
You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.
“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”
You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.
“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”
“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”
Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.
You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.
That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.
“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?
You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.
“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”
He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.
“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.
“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.
He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.
Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.
His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.
“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.
You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.
The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.
“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.
You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.
“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.
No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.
His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.
It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.
Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.
Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.
Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.
“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.
You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.
“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.
Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.
Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?
It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.
But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.
His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.
“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.
Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.
Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.
“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.
Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.
So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.
Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.
When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.
You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?
“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.
Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.
“But―”.
“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.
You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.
“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.
Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.
You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.
“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.
Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.
You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.
With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.
“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.
Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.
His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.
You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.
Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.
“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.
His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.
“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”
You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.
You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.
Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.
“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”
Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.
He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”
You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.
Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.
Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.
Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.
Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.
He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.
“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.
He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.
Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.
He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.
Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.
You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.
You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.
The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.
Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.
“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.
“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.
His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.
And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.
You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.
“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.
“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.
“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.
“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.
At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.
“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.
You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.
But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.
What had you done?
Well, you had gambled, and you lost.
But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.
#uniformed!joel#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal smut#the last of us#tlou#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller ff#pedro pascal ff#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal cinematic universe#ppcu#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#pedrohub#ppedit#pedropascaledit#ppascaledit
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For Years! | Max Verstappen x Reader |
Social media AU Summary: Max and reader get criticism over the status of their relationship.
✮▹ A/N: So sorry for not posting for so long. Life has been BUSY. but hopefully i can post more and write more! Love you guys <3
✰▹Warnings/Notices: Not edited. nothing really. reader mentioned to write music
Liked by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, & 3,345,678 others
@Y/N: Lovely time lately.
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user1: LMFAO MAX.
user2: Y/N you'll always been iconic
user3: sometimes I forget Max Verstappen is dating THE Y/N L/N.
↪ user4: SO TRUE. It completely passes my mind that they've been together before he even got to F1.
↪ user5: THEY'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR 9 YEARS?
↪ user6: YEA ITS WILD.
↪ user7: wait but they haven't gotten married or anything?
↪ user8: Yea no. They also avoid the questions around it. Kind of weird to me.
↪ user9: But hasn't Y/N written songs about marriage and getting married? Why haven't they?
↪ user10: Maybe they just don't want to. Or max doesn't.
MaxVerstappen: Why did you choose that photo of me.
↪ Y/N: You want me to post the photo from yesterday?
↪ MaxVerstappen: NO.
↪ user11: LMFAO. PARENTS.
Liked by Y/N, Redbull, & 2,345,567 others
@MaxVerstappen: Great race and great win! Getting ready for next week. And thank you to @Y/N for making me but those glasses, best purchase.
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Y/N: I told you they were a good investment
↪ MaxVerstappen: I don't know if you would call it an investment.
↪ Y/N: I'll post that picture.
↪MaxVerstappen: It was a great investment! better than a house!
↪ user12: better than a ring?
↪ user13: STOP. but no fr, wheres the ring Max?
user14: Okay nice win but when yall getting married?
user15: everyone needs to mind their business, maybe they're just not ready to get married and that okay.
↪ user16: But its been 9 YEARS. NINE YEARS. Its a red flag.
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@F1GOSSIP: Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N have been criticized over the status of their relationship. The couple has been together for over 9 years however many fans have realized that there's been no movement in the relationship, family and marriage vise. Thought?
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user17: I mean its their life but 9 years?
user18: Idk guys don't hate me but sometimes max doesn't seem interested in Y/N. Like all of the Monaco GP? seem happy around her.
↪ user19: Bro look at the pictures in the post. Does he seem unhappy in them? No he seems very happy.
↪ user20: Okay but lets be honest. Both only seem that happy in front of a camera.
User21: I mean for some of their relationship they were fairly young. Maybe they just wanna enjoy it little by little.
↪ user22: I think in 9 years you can enjoy a lot.
user23: I wouldn't marry her either. Max knows what's best which is why he hasn't done it.
Y/N has posted to their story!
liked by 6,678,567 others
@MaxVerstappen: happy 3 year anniversary @Y/N. love you much and cant wait for years to come. Also, people said I hated her? How could I?
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Y/N: Guys my husband is kinda cool.
↪ MaxVerstappen: Kinda?
↪ Y/N: yea cuz im cooler than you.
↪ MaxVerstappen: Okay love.
user24: WTF 3 YEARS?
user25: max said hold my 3x WDC titles while I make everyone shut up about my relationship.
↪ Y/N: He just wins everything doesn't he?
↪ CharlesLeclerc: Yea its kinda annoying. you should distract him Y/N
↪ MaxVerstappen: Dont tell my wife to distract me, I'll lose.
↪ CharlesLeclerc: thats the point.
↪ LandoNorris: I just wanna win.
↪ user26: LMFAO WHAT IS HAPPENING
↪ Y/N: Im collecting them all
User27: And people said max didnt wanna marry her.
user28: Bro just keeps winning doesnt he. Y/N GIVE ME A CHANCE.
user29: if you look closely you can see me getting run over by an F1 car.
⭒❃.✮:▹A/N: I hope you guys like it! I need to post more but ive gotten so busy and haven't had the time. But I'll try to post more often. Love you guys! hope you enjoyed.
#f1#f1 fandom#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen f1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x you#formula one x you#formula one#formula one x reader#one shot#my fic#fic rec#charles and max#lando norris#oneshot
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Pearly everlasting (transplant), few flowered shooting star (nursery) and fine-leaved lomatium (from seed!!!) all sprouting ! Lets effing go.
#garden#plants#l#at the start of the semester i always dostract myself with some grievance about the way that i am / what other lives i could have lived .#it is very distracting from making my life better in the present but i never learn and always spend the first month in a fugue state .#+ i am really lucky and have a lot to appreciate about my life and i forget about that as well#2 fixations atm: i am uncomfortable in social situations > this energy understandably makes others uncomfortable > im more uncomfortable bc#theyre uncomfortable etc etc avoidance pain suffering dying. breaking this cycle is difficult. have to divert self-focused attention#& be more comfortable with my self. this is hard to do when confidence is in the gutter which leads to fixation 2#what if i hadnt switched majors. what if i was still in art. what if i had broken up w gf before leaving for school. did she influence my#decision to switch majors or was that me? i am so easily convinced that w/e im doing is a bad idea#would i have more confidence if i had stayed in aet? would i have been forced to make connections with ppl if i wasnt thinking about what#she was doing back home?#would i have had tha breakdown?#idk probably i think im overestimating my mental state at 18. but it feels like there were some neuronal connections that never rewired.#its so easy to think of all the things thAt could be better but ig theres also things that would be worse . i wouldnt have my doggy.#i probably wouldnt have come to appreciate my parents as much. maybe i never would have tried towork on my mennal health.#idk. it just hurts to learn how to be a person again at 22. and thinking of all the ways things could be.#different doesnt help. also i have to stop smoking pot im worried it has leached sum esscence out of me . ah well#i need to eat smthing
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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FOURTEEN
pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, idk how to label this one so as always be warned? masterlist a/n: this is a more chill chapter w some drama ooo. next chapter i will try to make longer because we have a lot about to happen and a lot of progress that's being made but needs to move faster :,) i work two jobs now and work 14 hour days so thank you for being patient with me as i navigate through that. this story's lowkey falling off and not as many people seem to be into it which is fine but as always ily <3
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
You woke with a heavy heart riddled with anxiety. The room was empty and dim, the sun fighting to peek through the small window without much victory. The air felt unusually gloomy, more than it normally did majority of the time.
You weren’t sure where Soap and Gaz ran off to, but you were more than grateful to have the time to yourself. Last night had you in a chokehold, and you knew it was the reason your heart felt like a thick lump in your chest.
Giving the telescope to Gaz. Sitting under a wishful sky together. Feeling his finger graze your cheek in a way that had your heart fighting against your rib cage.
Was he going to kiss you? Is that what that was? The mood of it all, it was so foreign you could barely grasp the concept, but it was the only theory you could come up with.
The mere thought had your mind in shambles, but your soul erupting a fire. You didn’t know what that meant, nor did you know if it was what you wanted to happen.
The Captain wouldn’t be too happy if his crew were messing around with you, would he? Why were you so worried about what he would think?
You could feel the tension in your head building to the point it was near explosive. With a groan, you stood from the bed, trying your hardest to shake it off for long enough. You didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding Gaz, or like you were having an inner battle with yourself. You wanted to appear absolutely normal.
You couldn’t help but glance in the direction of your dresses, where they were folded neatly on top of the desk. You had yet to wear them, and the many shirts you’d borrowed from them up until this point were beginning to bring you a sense of dread every time you’d be forced into a new one.
It wasn’t hard to make up your mind on which one. You had mostly muted colors as not to stick out like a sore thumb, so you picked the one that’d keep you most hidden, even if it was just the five of you on a ship to nowhere.
Preparing yourself for departure, you crept down the deck of the ship. The weather outside was unhappy, the sun tucked away behind gray clouds that looked ready to boil over any minute. The waves weren’t the calming serenity they were last night, replaced by ones that angrily kissed the sides of the wooden ship and rocked you off balance.
The breeze carried the scent of seawater, and you inhaled greedily, using it to calm your nerves. Why were you nervous, anyway? It was silly to even ask yourself, but maybe you were overthinking Gaz’s intentions. A lack in judgment, something you were worried you made.
You lifted a hand, grazing across the cheek he’d touched just hours ago. If you focused really hard, you could still feel it, and you did your best to ignore the somersaults in your stomach.
Entering the food hall, you were greeted with the sight of the men sitting around one another, feasting on breakfast just as they had done the first time you ate with them. They looked like animals that had never seen food in their life.
How long had it been since you all properly sat down and ate as one? You couldn’t remember.
“Dove!” Soap called out, a smile instantly brightening his face. You cringed at the mess surrounding his mouth.
You failed to notice Ghost stiffening in his seat, as well as Gaz sitting up straighter at light speed. The Captain turned his head to you, greeting you with a warm smile.
“Mornin’, dove,” he said, and you offered a nod, stepping up to the table.
Before Price could offer you a seat, Soap patted the empty one beside him, greedily taking up the attention.
“Yer wearin’ one of the dresses,” Soap awed, taking in the simple details stitched into the fabric.
Having a moment of self consciousness, you awkwardly plucked at one of the stitches, nodding. “It’s not too much, is it?”
“Not at all,” he assured, beaming. “Right, Cap?”
You looked up to meet Price’s eye, who cleared his throat, nodding uncomfortably. He took a swig of his drink before placing it back down, hand lingering around the cup. “Mm. S’nice.”
You shooed away the brief flicker of disappointment that threatened its way in. You were going crazy. Why did you have the urge to seek approval anyway? It was absurd.
Soap was quick to his feet, claiming to grab you some food before he’d be right back. There was an awkward gap in between you and Gaz and when you looked at him, he beat you to it, eyes raking down from your face to take in the dress.
You felt your skin turn warm to the touch.
You quickly averted your attention to Ghost, praying to have a bit of normalcy but he was avoiding you rather than looking at you like Gaz was. His shoulders were tense, gaze laser focused on his bowl of breakfast. You could sense the furrow of his eyebrows, even beneath the mask. There was something about him that seemed lost, deep in thought.
Ghost always looked like that. Today, however, felt different.
“Good morning, Ghost,” you greeted kindly. To your surprise, he said nothing, only giving you a low grunt of acknowledgement that was tinged with a slight bitterness that made your ears hurt.
Frowning, you plucked at the stitch on your dress harder, only stopping when Soap returned with a hefty bowl of fresh breakfast, enough for a family.
“Soap, I do not think I need that much,” you worried, watching him set it down in front of you before plopping next to you.
“Nonsense, bonnie, ye gotta eat up,” he encouraged, pushing the bowl closer to you. “Ye look nice, by the way. I told ye the dresses were pretty.”
“You said pretty?” Gaz asked, raising an eyebrow.
Soap scoffed, waving him away. “Droolin’ like a dog, mind ye. Wipe yer mouth.”
Gaz sputtered, grumbling to himself and finally tearing his eyes away. You grew embarrassed for him.
Reluctantly, you began eating, taking small bites at a time. Soap watched you like a hawk, enough to where Gaz kicked him under the table, muttering a, “who’s droolin’ now?”
“Dove,” Price said, and you perked up. “I’d like to discuss a few things with you later. Would that be alright?”
“Ach, Cap, let the lass eat,” Soap scolded, and quickly slumped down like a kicked puppy when Price threw him a look of warning.
“That will be alright,” you assured, smiling politely. “Is it to do with Graves again?”
Before Price could reply, Ghost slammed his hands flat on the table, pushing himself to a stand. He gave none of you a second glance before he was stomping out of the dining hall, slamming the door aggressively on his way out.
The sound and sight made you recoil, visibly wincing. Ghost had been on edge, and you knew it was slowly building. Graves must have been driving him mad.
Guilt tugged at your heartstrings.
“I’ll go check on ‘im,” Soap mumbled, pulling himself out of his seat and following after Ghost mindlessly.
It wasn’t until it was only you, Price, and Gaz that the tense silence was broken.
“Poor lad,” Gaz murmured to himself, shaking his head and stabbing at his food with his fork.
“What’s happening with him?” you asked, worried.
Price tapped his fingers along the table, lips pursed and eyes stuck on the door. “Nothin’, dove,” he sighed.
You frowned at him. “No. You’re doing it again, Price.”
He turned away from the door and at you, cocking his head. Price frowned back at you before nodding slowly in understanding. “Right,” he muttered. “He is… rather guilty of everythin’ happenin’ with you. Killin’ himself about it, really.”
The irony. Ghost was practically undead until Graves decided otherwise.
“Guilty?” you repeated in surprise. “What is he guilty for?”
Gaz sighed heavily, appearing more tired than he did before. “He thinks you’re cursed ‘cause of him,” he explained. “If you hadn’t been with him that day in the town, Graves never would’ve seen you. He blames himself.”
Your eyes went wide the more he spoke, and you felt your own harboring guilt only grow. You felt sick. Not once had you considered Ghost to be the enemy, the reason for your misfortune. Graves was the only one to blame in the game.
“That is nonsense,” you wavered. “He is not to blame.”
“He thinks so,” Price replied glumly. “Do not take it to heart, dove. He has care for you as we do. He simply struggles with it more.”
You knew Ghost cared in his own strange way. He was emotionally constipated, unable to express himself the way a normal person should. You understood why.
“Should I talk to him about it?” you asked, more so to yourself. You weren’t sure how Ghost would take it. He was a firecracker.
“I think that would be nice, birdie,” Gaz agreed with a warm smile that made you stumble for words. “Don’t expect to get very far, though. He’s a stubborn bastard.”
Price snorted quietly, nodding. You couldn’t help but agree as well. You learned that the hard way.
“We do not have to talk until later,” the captain explained. “Finish up eatin’ and talk to him. See where it goes.”
With that, you made quick work of scarfing down the food Soap graciously piled up for you, eating as much as you can. Price dismissed you, giving you an encouraging smile. Gaz nodded to you as you left, hurrying out of the dining hall to find the doomed man where he hid.
You weren’t sure where to start, but the first you assumed was his room. He often resided in there by himself, hiding away like an urchin, quiet as a mouse. You’d never been to his quarters, so the thought of entering had you nervous.
The closer you got, the more your heart pounded. At least Soap would be there to ease the tension, perhaps he could even be helpful in opening Ghost up.
Ghost’s quarters were on the other side of the ship, away from Soap and Gaz’s, so when you stepped into the small hall leading to it, you paused when you noticed the door opened.
Faint murmurs could be heard from beyond the doorway, but it wasn’t loud enough to make out.
Creeping up to the door, you peeked your head in, darting your eyes around before they landed on Soap. Then Ghost.
You had to hold back a noise of surprise when you saw Ghost being coddled by Soap, the Scot’s arms encasing him with his lips to Ghost’s ear, speaking softly to him. The embrace was something passionate, almost as if being held by a lover.
The thing you noticed was Ghost free of his mask, the skull token sitting on the floor as if thrown off. The balaclava beneath it was next to it, and you saw the tufts of blonde hair poking out wickedly on Ghost’s head.
His face was marred, littered with brutal scarring and faint black veins that traveled up his neck and to his jaw. His nose was crooked, as if somebody had bashed it in and it never healed it properly. A nasty scar crossed on his mouth, starting from his top lip and finishing at the bottom.
You were looking at Simon. The one who hid beneath the mask as Ghost. And he didn’t even know you saw.
The guilt became only worse when Soap curled a hand under Ghost’s chin, his thumb stroking his textured cheek before leaning in.
You quickly pulled back from the doorway, heart racing. You looked away before you saw anything more, but you knew what was about to happen.
Had this been going on the whole time? Were you oblivious? Did the others know?
Images of them embracing flashing repeatedly in your mind, and you felt trickles of envy. The softness of the moment, to have such intimacy and care shared between one another… It was something you longed for and never knew you wanted.
You longed for a hug. You yearned for affection.
When living in the village, it was something you never desired. You despised the idea of settling down with another and spending your life loving them. Now, you realized that it wasn’t the idea you hated — it was that you never saw anybody in that light.
The realization began to hit you fast and hard. And it didn’t feel as great as you wanted it to.
Just as you were beginning to feel at ease with your place in life, you were lost all over again.
You don’t know how long you stood there. You were in a trance, and just as you snapped out of it to rush out of the hall, Soap stepped out, Ghost trailing behind him. Both of them paused in the doorway.
“Dove?” Soap asked in surprise. “Are ye alright? What are ye doin’ here?”
You startled, forcing yourself to act indifferent. You didn’t want to seem strange, as if you’d been lurking. You didn’t even mean to.
“I just got here,” you lied with a forced smile. “I knew you were speaking, so I was waiting outside until it was okay. I was going to speak to Ghost, if that was alright.”
You risked a glance at Ghost. His mask was back on his face, covering the trauma beneath.
“We’ve got a couple of things to do around the ship,” Soap said apologetically. “Lookin’ like a storm’s comin’ soon. Gotta set everythin’ up so we don’t tip over and drown, aye?”
Soap nudged your shoulder with a snicker. You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed and isolated.
“That’s alright,” you murmured quietly.
Ghost eyed you, narrowing in like he didn’t believe you. You swallowed.
“C’mon, lass. Let’s get ye back, aye?” Soap hummed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He began to guide you out of the hall.
“Price wanted to speak with me,” you said. “I will just go to his quarters.”
Soap’s eyebrows raised and he let his arm drop, giving you a nod. “Alright, dove. Ye feel okay? Ye look a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well?”
You dismissed it with a hand, forcing a reassuring smile. “I’m quite alright. No stress.”
Soap looked skeptical and he glanced at Ghost, who merely looked away. “Okay,” he huffed, not quite believing you but trusting you regardless. “Go on then.”
You gave the two a farewell, going your separate ways while you walked back to Price’s room. The walk felt slow, your shoes dragging along the old wooden floors. Your anxiety gnawed at you like a pest, your fingers finding that now familiar stitch on your dress to once again pick at.
Your mind was in shambles and you didn’t want Price to notice. How were you to explain what you saw? What if he wasn’t aware of the affair happening between his crew and you ruined it by asking?
You were so engrossed in your own mind that you failed to notice you were already at the door to Price’s. You briefly wondered if he had even returned from the dining hall. He was expecting you to arrive later.
A couple knocks on the door later, Price opened the door. He looked puzzled when he saw you, ushering you inside.
“I take it you didn’t get to talk to Ghost?” he frowned. You shook your head solemnly. “That’s alright. Did somethin’ happen? You look unwell. Was it breakfast? Did it not taste well to you?”
“What? No, breakfast was perfect. Thank you,” you assured. His gaze flickered over your face, studying you. “Ghost and Soap are handling the ship for the storm. The clouds look rather angry, don’t they?”
He knew you were bluffing. He could tell from the way you rambled about the weather of all things.
“Yes, they do,” he agreed suspiciously. Nevertheless, he encouraged you to take a seat at his desk, joining you on his side. A lone cigar sat in his ashtray, unlit, and he grabbed it with nimble fingers to hold it to his mouth and light it with a match.
You watched silently as the smoke began to pour out of his mouth, swirling into wisps in the air.
“The weather always makes me feel a bit uneasy,” he hummed, holding the cigar with two fingers and letting his arm rest on the chair. “Gives me nasty headaches. You got anythin’ that helps with that?”
“Back in my quarters, yes,” you explained. “I still have quite a few balms from my village. I have been meaning to make more. Perhaps I can show you how.”
Price huffed out a laugh, a faint smile hidden in his heard. He took another heavy hit from the cigar, dabbing the excess ash off in the tray. “That would be useful,” he agreed. “I’ve been curious about your skill since you stitched me up so long ago.”
You couldn’t help but smile. The memory at the time was one you weren’t fond of, but now that you look back on it, it wasn’t so bad. You were just scared.
“I have told you from the beginning that I am not a trained medic,” you teased.
“Ach, your stitchin’ job barely left a scar. No need to be so humble.”
You shared quiet laughs before falling into comfortable silence. You allowed him to nurse the cigar until he was ready to speak, but the silence made your mind drift back to what you’d seen moments ago. Curiosity got the best of you.
“Sir?”
“Hm?”
“Are Soap and Ghost… together?”
Price paused, cigar hanging from his mouth. He cocked his head curiously, taking in your question. “Why do you ask?”
You fumbled, wringing your hands in your lap awkwardly. “I am just… wondering.”
He stared at you as if could see right through your deception. “Define, together.”
“I think you know what I mean, sir.”
Price snorted, resting his cheek on his hand. “Does that bother you, dove? Or perhaps you want to join them?”
Your eyes widened and you quickly sputtered out an explanation, shaking your head. “No, not at all!”
Price barked out a laugh, eyes crinkling with it. You chewed on your bottom lip until it felt raw, wishing you hadn’t even asked.
“I am simply teasin’ you. Relax,” he mused, tapping out the cigar. “It is a complicated relationship. Much more complicated than you could assume.”
“Is that so?” you murmured to yourself, wondering. “Complicated how?”
Price’s eyebrows raised and he remained quiet for a moment. “I did not take you to be the type to gossip about love of all things, dove.”
“Please do not jest me.”
Price smiled in amusement. “My apologies, princess,” he taunted. You scowled. “Curiosity killed the cat, don’t you know that?”
“Of course I know that,” you uttered in annoyance at Price’s inconspicuous mockery.
“Unless it is Soap you wish to be with,” he continued.
“I—” You hated how the thought made your heart jump. “It is not!”
“Good,” he said with a smile. You shut your mouth, frowning at him in disapproval. “I was goin’ to speak more with you about Graves, but perhaps Soap was right. You need a break from it for the day. Rather, would you like to show me that medicine makin’ that you mentioned?”
Medicine making? The Captain was a strange man. The strangest of them all. He gave Soap a run for his money.
“I’d much prefer that,” you grumbled, standing so you could return to your quarters to collect things needed to create jars of herbal medicine.
As you walked out with plans of returning, Price called out once more, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
You let out an annoyed groan, slamming the door on your way out. It wasn’t enough to silence his snickering.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#call of the sea#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#kyle gaz garrick#ghost cod#john price#john soap mactavish#john price x reader#price x reader#captain john price#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick#gaz x reader#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#pirate!141#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#ghost simon riley#gaz garrick
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