Nov 1, 2023
My Policeman
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My Policeman
you were more than just a short time.
marion: yeah we’re going out just the two of us this time ☺️
tom: *takes her to patrick’s flat*
My police man | Patrick x Tom, Patrick x platonic!OC
Warning: femxfem SMUT/ implied homophobia— it’s the 50’s
A/n: Based off of the movie “My Policeman”, which is based off the book. You can imagine the characters as the actors if you wish or not, you do you.
The room consisted of three sounds, all encompassing. The first, one would notice when walking into the grander looking apartment— filled with character and personalities contrasting together— is the humming hymn and melody of Elvis Presley. This in itself was obscene, yet not a crime. That much could not be said for the other two sounds.
The second sound was that of pure obscenity. Sputtering breaths, whimpering cords, and whiny moans. Muffled they were, but not enough to withstand the threshold of the living room. No, they pierce through the opening without care. However, the music kept it away from the exiting door’s archway.
And the third… it could have been described as even more immoral. Profuse, blunt noise of wetness covered the room. Good god the scene could have drove anyone mad, whether it be from anger or lust one must decide for themself.
Here they were, two women, the causes of such exuberant delight. Both tangled on top of the plush sofa. One laid on her back, whilst the other had her way with her, teasing, prodding, and enveloping senses someone could only ever dream of. Unfortunately it seemed the poor girl, who arched her back enough to be a bridge, dream would not last— popped by a man in great despair.
Clicking the door open in seconds, frantic for some time of support or serendipity, Patrick entered his flat with a mission set in his mind. He had come home, after a day of unexpected events. Things that swarmed his thoughts; a man who enraptured his attention. Oh and the tragedy of it all, for the beauty to catch his eye, the uniqueness in which snagged his heart— all sourced from a policeman. Without lifting a finger the boy in blue manage to jail him. The only concern of Patrick’s, nonetheless, was for how long was his sentence to be?
He scrambled in, slamming the door with his foot, while yanking fallen strands of hair from his face continuously. A moment was spared, though barely so, for placing his belongings onto a rack and table. Patrick had always hated careless messes; he often joked that he acted more like the wife than his companion ever could or would. She never was one for keeping things clean.
Speaking of such…
“A bit of warning next time.” Patrick say coarsely, stomping over to the liquor cabinet. A glimpse of bare skin, far too light to be his other half, made his eyes latch onto anywhere else in the house. Though nudity was not much of a taboo for the two, he gave the unfamiliar body as much respect as possible in a scenario as this.
Humming amused, the brunette flattens her tongue against the other woman’s wetness— sending her into a trembling frenzy. “Someone’s angry.”
The conversion not acknowledged to her and the vibration running down her spine, brought the euphoric woman out of her daze, shooting up to cover her flush breast. Her chest roses rapidly, beyond terrified of the consequences plaguing her thoughts.
Frowning shortly, the brunette’s hazel eyes found her lover’s blue. “It’s okay darling he’s one of us.”
Slowly, delicate fingers wrap around the woman’s calves, tracing along the skin with a trail of raised follicles to follow. “Or perhaps I should say the opposite?” She joked, fingers directing upward, almost reaching her heat, tantalizingly close enough to draw out a whimper. “We can stop if you wish.”
She peaked over at a seemingly fuming stranger, who paid no mind at all. Patrick was preoccupied pouring himself a scotch as he usually does around this time, just with more fervor.
Shaking her head sporadically, the brunette smirks with triumphant. “Oh, someone’s an exhibitionist.” She teases, cockiness soaked into her words as she continues to worships the woman beneath her.
The very accusation brought forth an abundance of whines and mewls, and the poor thing wasn’t able to stand the overstimulation for much longer. Let alone her lovers calculated fingers which curled perfectly snug. Soon, the brunette had to clamp her hand atop her victims mouth.
“Now, now love. Although I admire your boldness, you’re playing on the dangerous side now.” She whispered hastily against her neck, peppering kiss along the way.
“You’re such a cocky bastard, Mae.” Patrick scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked for his sketch paper in the midst of a mess— one would think a hurricane had run through here.
Humming once more, causing her lover to writhe beneath the vibration, she pulls back to stare at her good work. Locking her gaze, so tantalizing warm, with a deep blue; she smiles sweetly, too sweet. Suddenly her fingers pace increase and her thumb starts to rub, causing illicit profanities to spill from the woman’s mouth and a patronizing pout to cross Maeve’s face. She basks in pride as the woman beneath her falls apart, muttering and whimpering incoherent babble.
Finally, with no warning, Maeve bends down to nip at her thighs. This cuts the thread which once held the woman’s sanity, allowing her body to fall into an abyss of pleasure. From her head to her toes, she tingles with ecstasy. Oh and how she trembled as Maeve continued to tease her sweet spot. Slowly in efforts to torment, she watched as her lover’s stomach shivered and quirked until eventually she pushes her hand away.
Sighing, Maeve conceded begrudgingly— opting to clean her fingers as a consolation. “Alright, pour me a glass darling. Lord knows I’m gonna need it with what you’ve done.”
“Says the one half naked.” Patrick quips, throwing a robe he had found among the array of clothing sporadically thrown on the ground at her while grabbing another glass. “Would your friend like one?”
“She has a name,” Maeve states in a mocking, insulted tone.
“Well, when or if she tells me it, I’ll call her such,”Patrick exhales whilst handing his friend a glass practically halfway full, back still facing the bare duo.
Maeve smiles wickedly as she slips the robe on smoothly, letting it occasionally fall of her shoulder without care. Her hand reaches out for the glass in delight, showing off the pairs matching simple, gold bands decorating their left-ring finger. However, she had another sitting right above it, chunkier than it’s sibling and jeweled with a rough amethyst.

“You know her, my darling husband.” Maeve purred, propping her knee onto the arm of the couch to lean her weight obnoxiously on Patrick’s shoulder.
“Oh?” He inquired, playing along with Maeve’s antics; he knew very well it’d only grow worse if he didn’t indulge her. “Do I miss?”
“Mrs,” Maeve whispers lowly, and Patrick could feel the grin hidden in the fabric of his vest.
“Maeve!”
Wincing, she rubs the bridge of her nose on Patrick’s shoulder before ripping away to down the liquid acid. “Don’t yell at me,” she said, pointing at woman who was dressing as fast as humanly possible, “I didn’t say your name, and I’m pretty sure that you don’t even remember it yourself, seeing as how much you’ve been screaming mine for the past two hours—,”
Patrick makes a gagging sound, causing Maeve to smack his arm harshly. “And you!” She pokes his chest in an accusatory spirit as they meet eyes. “I don’t even want to hear it, ‘Mr. Falls for every pretty face he sees’.”
Quirking an eyebrow up quickly, Patrick nods. “Two peas and a pod we are my Monet.”
Huffing exasperatedly, she caves and smiles at him dimly. “So who is he?”
Patrick groans dramatically, remembering why he was drinking in the first place. “Fuck, I’ve done it this time.”
Snorting, Maeve pours more liquor into his glass while sipping some herself. “You always do.”
“Stop doing that! It’s unsanitary.” He scolds, yanking the bottle away from her.
“So is fucking on the couch, but that doesn’t stop either of us, does it?”
There’s a thump that catches Maeve’s attention, causing her eyes to grow wide and her legs scurry. “You don’t have to go.” Whining, she steals the shoe off the ground, where her lover had tried to put it on.
The woman scoffs her, who had previously been a cocky and meticulous being, now looking at her with large puppy eyes and a hanging bottom lip— bit and bruised bright red. “Yes, I do.”
“Why?” Maeve retorted back like a pitiful infant.
“Because I have children.”
Exhaling through her nose, Maeve hands over the black heel. A detesting expression still imprinted into her face. “I hate your husband.”
Smiling shortly the woman gives Maeve a small peck on the lips. “You and me both. See you later, my temptress.”
“A married woman,” Patrick comments after hearing the door click, turning to stare at his friend. “How’d you manage to get away with that?”
Shrugging, Maeve plops back onto the couch manspread without a single card if she’s exposed. “Her husband has been cheating on her for a while, and I offered her the delight of returning the favor.”
“And she works for me?”
“With. She’s not your secretary.” She states beckoning him to sit in the empty seat above her head.
Patrick takes her offer willingly, gathering her hair gently and putting it to the side before sitting down. For a moment, head laid back and eyes sealed shut, Patrick tries to calm the thumping in his head, his chest, his lungs. Then he uttered the words…
“A policeman.”
There were few seconds of silence, to which Patrick found to good to be true. He quickly saw he was right when he opened his eyes, gaze immediately caught by hers. He hadn’t even noticed her move, but there she was— sat upright, face inches away from his, searching for the joke. But there wasn’t one.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, genuine disbelief— or was it pity? Patrick couldn’t tell.
“Of all the bloody options,” Maeve shakes her head, eyes drifting to the back of her head as she wheezed. Twisting with tense muscles, she groans as her head lands in his lap. Rubbing her eyes roughly, she finally quips, “And you call me reckless.”
This makes him snort, watching as her eyes bounce from the ceiling light, to the tables filled with paper and books, then to the portraits on the wall. In a way Patrick felt guilty, but he couldn’t help the way these things happen. She knew that.
Lightly tapping her hands as they began to pick at their cuticles, Patrick says, “Stop worrying. That’s my job.”
She lets out a breathy chuckle, gulping back her intrusive thoughts and endless overthinking. “I’m not.” She lied. “I’m just trying to figure out how the hell you can be so daft. I mean— it’s not like there not in uniform all the time or wear blue suits with tall ass helmets— oh wait!”
Rolling his eyes, Patrick cracks a smile. “Again, we’re two peas in a pod.”
Maeve holds her arms out like scales as she squints her face comedically. “Married women or policemen. Mhm, married woman— Policeman.”
“Fine, fine, fine. You’re the smartest today.”
“Stop being a prick and just tell me about him already.” Maeve retorts, hitting his chest with the back of her hand.
A delightful exhale leaves poor Patrick’s lips as an image of the man he met appears in his mind. Then a grin follows not to far after remembering how he spoke, acted, smiled.
“Good god, you’re already in the deep in.” She huffed, sympathy and happiness tangled into a tight knot within her heart as she observed her closest companion. “We’re fucked.”
“Hopefully— ow. Why must you insist on hurting me?”
“Why must you always avoid answering the question? At least tell me the boy in blues name for gods sake!”
Patrick becomes a smiling mess when the man’s name comes to mind, bubbling at the bridge of his tongue. “Tom.”
Scrunching up her nose, Maeve remarks, “Sounds old fashion.”
She squeals as Patrick jumps up suddenly, who demands her to stay in place. “But I guess that will change in time. Do you think he’ll ever let us call him Tommy—? Patrick what the hell are you—?”
“Stay.” He orders, balancing himself on the cushions below his feet, staring at her from above with pencil and sketchbook in hand. “Do that face that you just made.”
“What face?”
“Can you not fight me this once.”
“But I’ll get wrinkles!” Maeve whines dramatically.
“You age like wine darling, now be a good wife and do as your told.” Patrick teases.
“Ha! Say please.”
“Please.” He asks, puckered lip out.
Rolling her eyes, she scrunches her nose like she had before. “Why of all the faces do you have to draw me with this one?”
“Well for one, more detail.” Patrick reply’s, wrist moving quickly along the page. “And I need to capture this moment.”
“And why is that?” She asked, watching him work quizzically.
“Because this is the moment before we let someone else into our tiny world.”
***
A/n: there will be more parts, not totally accurate to the movie cause— Maeve doesn’t stay to a script.
But requests for specific scenes/ situation can be made and are encouraged.
ok so my mum is watching the Harry Styles movie My PoliceMan and all I can hear is Harry Styles moaning from my room I’m like 🥵😂
Excuse me while I pass away
My Policeman