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Programming Guidelines and Best Practices for Community Radio

Community radio is more than just a platform for broadcasting—it’s a heartbeat of the community, echoing local voices, cultures, and stories that are often overlooked by mainstream media. Creating impactful programming requires thoughtful planning, creativity, and a deep understanding of your listeners’ needs. Whether you’re a new community radio station or looking to revamp your content…

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hey google how do you ask for reassurance without actually asking for it

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Effective Community Engagement Strategies for CRS Success

Community Radio Stations (CRS) have a unique and powerful role: to be the voice of the community, by the community, and for the community. But how do you make sure your station isn’t just broadcasting to people but actively engaging with them? This guide dives into actionable strategies for community engagement that will turn your CRS into a dynamic hub of conversation, culture, and…

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He Can't Have You- Part 2

Thank you all for the amazing feedback on this Evan Buckley imagine, I hope you will like this follow up.

Please let me know what you think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan's baby is due any day now, therefore (Y/n) hangs around the station a lot so she isn't alone. But things take a bad turn when her ex finds her. And kidnaps her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A groan tumbled past Evan's lips as he hopped down from the truck, feeling like his legs were about to turn to jelly. Both hands moved to press against his back as he leaned his chest back and clicked his spine into place like a neon glowstick.

He was ready to go home. He didn't want to be back on the ladders for a week at least; he didn't want to look at those ladders for what remained of his shift today. Not after he had almost fallen down them and had been running up and down those ladders more times than a yoyo.

His boots thudded against the floor as he trudged towards the lockers and shrugged off his helmet and jacket. He slung the jacket on the hanger and dumped the hat on the shelf before he turned and walked towards the stairs.

If the bell went off within the next hour, Evan was going to scream. They had been on that call for over three hours; he wanted something to eat and a chance to rest before another call had them running around and burning what little energy each of them had left.

His head tilted back and he tried to plaster a smile on his face and make himself look a bit more lively as he jogged up the stairs towards the annex.

He wanted to see (Y/n). She had been here for a bit over three hours now so Evan wanted to make sure she was alright and see what she had been up to. When she stayed at the station last week during a long call, they all came back to find she had done some baking in their absence.

Evan trudged towards the sofas in the right hand corner, but the tv was off and the area was vacant. His shoulders sagged a little and he twisted to the left instead to head into the kitchen.

He could see two new starters lounging around the pool table, chittering away while the radio played an eighties station in the background. But no one else was in the kitchen. There was no one else up here. He walked past the kitchen towards the pole at the far end, just to mae sure that (Y/n) wasn't hanging around anywhere, but his wife wasn't anywhere in sight.

Maybe she was in the toilet, after all the toilets and the showers were all downstairs at the far back of the station. Evan highly doubted she would be in the bunker room, he knew his wife and he knew she would be much too anxious to try and take a nap here at the station. Especially if Evan was out on a call.

His boots sounded even heavier as he stomped down the stairs and made his way down the corridor instead. But when he walked by the locker room, he paused and peered his head in the doorway at the sight of a familiar face.

"Alex, have you seen (Y/n) around?"

He knew Alex, Johnny and Amber were all on the back up shift, they stayed at the station in case any other calls happened while the rest of them were already out in the first truck. Evan figured Alex would have been milling about the station, going to the gym and tidying up while he waited for a call. He should have seen (Y/n) at some point.

The blond turned around and cast a familiar grin over his shoulder in Evan's direction. Although he did narrow his eyes a like he thought Evan was asking a stupid question."

"Your wife?" When Evan nodded, Alex shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Nah I haven't seen her in a couple hours. Her car alarm went off and she went to sort it out, haven't seen her since. She's probably headed home."

With a deflated 'thanks' and his fingers drumming on the doorframe, Evan pushed off the door and briskly walked down the corridor towards the back doors.

Why would (Y/n) leave without telling him? Why would she leave at all when she was here specifically so she wouldn't be home alone?

She was nine months pregnant, Evan had cleared it with Bobby for (Y/n) to come down to the station so he could be nearby and so (Y/n) would always be with someone if she went into labour. And Evan knew for a fact that his sister was working today so (Y/n) wouldn't have left to go and spend time with Maddie. She should still be here. She shouldn't have gone anywhere, (Y/n) promised she would stay and hang around until Evan got back.

A frown etched deep into his features as he wrangled in his pocket to find his phone.

He had no messages and no missed calls from (Y/n), surely if she left she would have told him she was going so he wouldn't be confused or worried.

He scrolled down and clicked on (Y/n)'s contact, raising the phone to his ear while it rung out and he headed out into the car park. But as he pushed open the back door, a horrible twisting feeling ignited in his gut when he heard a familiar sound.

(Y/n)'s ringtone. Her phone was outside.

Evan stormed out into the car park, his eyes frantically searching around but there was no one out here. He was alone, and yet he could still hear (Y/n)'s phone, the ringtone was getting louder. His blue eyes deepened as he tried to locate (Y/n)'s car. It was dead ahead of him.

She wouldn't have walked home, it was too far to walk especially when she had clearly been in discomfort earlier. There was no reason why (Y/n) would walk home and leave her car stranded here at the station.

When something crunched beneath his boot, Evan lowered his phone from his ear and took a step back as he looked down.

Oh God.

(Y/n)'s car keys. (Y/n)'s phone. (Y/n)'s bag. All three articles were cascaded on the floor in an odd pattern like they had been dropped in a hurry.

He numbly slid his phone back into his pocket after ending the pointless call and reached down to pick up her things. Her phone and keys were stone cold, they had been out here for a while.

Dread dwelled in the pit of Evan's stomach that was now churning like a washing machine and he could scarcely catch a single breath. His features began to turn a deep shade of red and his chest began to tighten and twitch until he had to gasp to get a proper mouthful of air.

Something had happened to (Y/n), he just knew it. He could feel it, like melted silver hardening to steel in his bones that now felt heavy and weighed down. It took all the effort Evan had to get his legs moving and scramble back inside when he simply wanted to collapse down to his knees and wallow in his own bubble of panic.

He began to suffer tunnel vision, only seeing the imagine of Bobby stood far ahead at the other end of the corridor. Blackness started to creep in around the edges of his sight and one hand had to plaster along the wall to keep himself upright as he continued to struggle for air.

The moment Bobby was within reach, Evan clamped his hand down on his Captain's shoulder and leaned against him like he was about to pass out. He felt Hen quickly reach out to grab his arm, trying her best to steady him and assess him in case he had suddenly taken a bad turn or felt sick.

"Buck. what's the matter?" The concern in Hen's voice did nothing to make Evan feel any better. If anything, it brought tears to his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath and moved his hands, motioning to (Y/n)'s phone and bag that were trembling in his grip.

"Something's wrong with (Y/n)."

"Where is she, did her waters break?"

"She's- fuck, she's not here. Her car's still parked up, but I- I found her bag and keys on the floor outside, no one's seen her in a few hours. She's not okay."

Bobby's hand stayed on Evan's shoulder but he leaned back to cast his eyes around the station floor and look up towards the annex like he expected (Y/n) to suddenly appear and tell them otherwise. If her things were left outside but her car was still here then that suggested that something had happened. She had been caught up in some kind of emergency. She had witnessed something outside and tried to help. She had felt unwell and tried to leave or find someone to help her.

None of those explanations made sense to any of them and when Bobby let go of Evan in favour of going to gather the rest of the team, Evan leaned towards Hen. He felt faint. Something was wrong, he knew it, but he had no idea what had happened or if (Y/n) was okay or harmed or suffering or somewhere unsafe.

What had happened to his wife?

***

"(Y/n) honey tell me what's happened."

Maddie pressed her microphone closer to her mouth and tried to secure the ear piece around the back of her ear a little better. She wanted to make sure she heard every word her sister in law spoke, she had to get every detail and find out what exactly was going on.

Her sister said she didn't know where she was and that she was in labour, two horrible combinations that shouldn't be put together. But Maddie couldn't fathom how (Y/n) didn't know where she was. Surely if she had been driving and got lost she would use the apps on her phone to find her location or look for signs or ask around. And why would she be driving somewhere unfamiliar? Where had she been going?

She scooted her chair closer to the desk while her feet tapped against the floor to rid herself of the nervous energy building up inside of her. She had no idea what was happening.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard and she typed in a few codes, but her eyes narrowed and she leaned closer to the screen.

Why couldn't the computer get an accurate location from (Y/n)'s phone? Why wasn't the signal working properly?

"(Y/n), talk to me."

Bowing her head down, (Y/n) tried to stop the tears that were furiously drenching her face like rainfall in the Amazon. Her shoulders were quaking and her body was hunched over, trying her best to make herself as small as possible. Not that there was anyone around, anyway.

"Caleb, he- oh, he made me go with him… I don't- I don't know where I am. I had to hurt him, he had a knife."

More tears continued to spill down her face as she gasped and snivelled through her words. She didn't have a choice. Hurting Caleb, getting hurt herself, it was all necessary to get away from him. He had done this, (Y/n) didn't have a choice or a chance against him.

Her palm pressed against the side of her stomach when another contraction tore through her and she sobbed, trying her best to hold herself together and make sure she didn't drop the phone. Her only connection to Maddie; to the rest of the world; to safety.

It had taken long enough for (Y/n) to find an area in this vast, stupid landscape where she had enough signal to hear Maddie rather than listening to a crackling, distant sound. It had been like trying to work out Morse Code without any training or information.

At least while (Y/n) was hunched down near a wall with the road still within sight, (Y/n) was safe and she had a signal. She wasn't willing to move from this spot until someone came to help her.

"Oh my God, is he still trying to hurt you? Are you outside or inside somewhere?" Leaning back in her chair, Maddie waved her hand until she gained Josh's attention and beckoned him towards her.

He murmured a soft "Okay?" as his brows furrowed and he looked between her and the computer screen to try and see what call she was taking.

"It's (Y/n)," Maddie covered her hand over her microphone so her sister wouldn't hear. "Her ex kidnapped her and now she's in labour. I can't get a good signal and she doesn't know where she is."

The agony in Maddie's voice was clear. She needed help. She needed Josh to get the police on the line and get eyes in the sky. They needed to pinpoint (Y/n)'s location so they could send help to her and make sure she and the baby were okay. No one wanted her to have this baby alone and Maddie knew her brother would suffer a breakdown if he wasn't there for the birth. If he wasn't there to look after (Y/n) and hold her hand.

With a nod of his head, Josh took a few steps away so he could start making the necessary calls. They would find (Y/n). They would make sure help got sent to her. They wouldn't leave her there alone.

"(Y/n), is he still trying to hurt you?"

"No, I h-hit him, with a rock and tried to get a-away- oow, Maddie it hurts."

It hurt so much.

(Y/n) didn't want to be here. She wanted to be back at the station, back where she was safe. Where she was with Evan and his colleagues and people who would look after her and protect her rather than try to harm her. She wished she had let Alex go out and turn off her car alarm rather than insisting on doing it herself. She wished she had asked him to go with her or that someone else had been around to see what happened and stop Caleb from taking her the way he did.

She wished a lot of things, but the biggest one playing on her mind was wishing Evan would suddenly appear out of nowhere. She wanted him here. She needed him here.

"That's good. I'm trying to get a location on your phone, as soon as I have that I can send help to you but don't worry, I'm staying on the line with you."

Why didn't Maddie know where she was? Why couldn't she find the location quicker and help? Why couldn't someone be right around the corner who was able to come and help her?

Her chin tucked down into her chest when another contraction burned through her abdomen and split her skin apart. A pitiful cry escaped her lips and her free hand moved down to clench around her thigh until her nails were cutting into her skin. At least the pain in her abdomen was taking her mind off the open cut in her knee and the gash in her left arm just above her elbow. Her whole body was pulsing and aching with each heartbeat that resounded beneath her skin like a drumbeat.

She couldn't stop another groan from tumbling past her lips and her body started to shake as she tried to shift around until she was sat up on her knees rather than sat down on the floor. She shakily put the phone on speaker and laid it in front of her as carefully as she could to make sure she didn't lose what little, precious signal she had on Caleb's phone.

With her free hand plastered to the side of her stomach, (Y/n) smothered down another groan that left her shaking when the contraction seemed to last longer and become more direct.

"I think… oh, I think I need to push soon. Get Evan, please!" The desperation in her voice made her wince but it broke Maddie's heart.

She needed Evan to know. She needed someone to get hold of him and tell him that (Y/n) was suffering and needed his help. Now. If he didn't get to her fast, she was going to have their baby without him. That wasn't something they had contemplated, that wasn't on the cards. It couldn't happen.

"Okay. (Y/n), honey I'm just going to put you on hold just for one minute so I can talk to Buck, okay?"

When (Y/n) hummed, Maddie clicked the on-hold button and swiped her own phone from her bag that was resting by her feet beneath her desk. It would be easier to call Evan directly rather than go through the station and try to ask people to put him on the line.

She just prayed he had his phone handy and that he wasn't in the middle of a call right now, or he wouldn't be able to answer the phone.

"Mads, you okay, you're at work aren't you?" Evan's voice was distant and his eyes kept glancing around the station, his mind preoccupied and somewhere else entirely.

He watched as Chimney and Eddie darted about the station floor on orders from Bobby who was currently in his office, trying to find out what was going on and where (Y/n) was. No one in the station had seen her since just after the team left on their call and that meant (Y/n) could have been gone for hours.

Evan's foot started to tap against the floor and his free hand moved to grip the back of his neck as he tried to keep himself calm and steady. He wasn't sure why his sister was calling, she never rang when she was at work and Evan knew she was on shift today. He prayed nothing was wrong with her too, he couldn't handle any more stress right now.

"Yeah, listen… (Y/n)'s called 911-"

"What? Where is she? She was supposed to be here with us but she left-" Rambles spluttered past Evan's lips while his heart hammered against his chest and his body surged forward like he was about to set off into a pelting run.

She had called for help. Why had she done that? Where was she? What had happened to her? She should have been here at the station, safe and unharmed and out of any sort of danger.

"Buck, Buck just take a breath and let me explain. Caleb found her, she said he kidnapped her. She managed to hit him and get away, but she doesn't know where she is, and she's gone into labour."

His worst nightmare had come to life.

When (Y/n) found the courage to explain to Evan what had gone on between her and her ex and how it had affected her, he had been riled up and stunned and angered all at once. He hated the fact that Caleb had attacked her, he had traumatised her and frightened her and tried to control her in every aspect of her life.

And the few times they had bumped into Caleb out in the street, Evan had made sure (Y/n) was hidden behind him and that her ex couldn't get within ten feet of her.

He didn't think he would have to worry about Caleb anymore. (Y/n) had mentioned him in over a year.

She and Evan had gotten married and they were having a daughter, they were moving on with their lives and Caleb should have been a distant memory. Why would he come back now? Why would he take (Y/n) like this and try to hurt her after all this time?

A low whine burned at the back of Evan's throat and he tossed his head back as his free hand moved round to smother his face. But it did nothing to stop the tears from trickling down his face.

And he couldn't stop himself from twisting to the right and pummelling his fist into the wall harsh enough to knock the kitchen clock off the wall and into the sink. He didn't feel one ounce of pain in his knuckles that were quickly turning a bright shade of red as one or two layers of skin started to split apart from the force.

All he could feel was unbridled rage.

"Did- did he hurt her?" He almost didn't dare ask.

He wasn't sure what he would do if the answer was yes. How would he cope if he learned that Caleb had hurt (Y/n)- again, while she was pregnant? If he knew she was gravely injured or that something was wrong with the baby, Evan wouldn't be able to breathe. He wouldn't be able to put one foot in front of the other if his sister told him news like that.

He knew how spiteful and vindictive Caleb could be and he knew (Y/n)'s ex wasn't opposed to hurting her. Evan doubted (Y/n) being pregnant would sway Caleb very much or make him change his attitude, he would probably still hurt her and he might want to try and hurt the baby too.

Evan couldn't have that. He couldn't hear that kind of news, he needed to know that (Y/n) was alright, despite being somewhere unfamiliar and going into labour, presumably on her own.

"Not from what she's told me. I'm trying to get a location from the phone she's calling on, but it looks like she's out of town. I'll send over some coordinates, you and the team need to head on out there and if I find any responders closer to her I'll divert them to her. Okay?"

"Okay. Don't let her off the line, not until someone's with her and- and tell her I'll be there soon."

***

"(Y/n), Buck's on his way to you and we're trying to get a precise location on you. Someone will be with you soon honey."

Those words were like music to (Y/n)'s ears, but it seemed too little too late. It wasn't going to be enough. Evan wasn't going to make it on time. (Y/n) didn't feel well, things were progressing and she just knew that Evan- nor anyone else- were going to get to her before she had this baby.

"Ooh, I don't think h-he's gonna make it… Mads I need to push!"

Terror pooled deep within (Y/n)'s gut as she tilted her head down and wound her arms tightly around her waist as if she were trying to give herself a comforting hug. But it did nothing to stop the cries from bubbling past her lips and wracking her body. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be somewhere safe, somewhere with Evan.

Why did Caleb have to do this to her? Why did he have to ruin everything? Was it not enough that he had destroyed so much of (Y/n)'s life already? Now he was trying to ruin her future and taint her life with the memory of him. There was nothing in her life that was hers anymore, everything was painted with the image, memory and torture of Caleb.

With a deep breath, Maddie inched closer to her desk and began drumming her fingers down on the keys, adding notes to her call log. Female in distress. In labour. Starting to have the baby alone. Needs urgent assistance.

None of her notes were going to do anything. Maddie couldn't get anyone to (Y/n) any faster than this, she had sent the 118 in (Y/n)'s direction, giving them rough coordinates and telling them with a heavy heart that they would have to search for her around that area. Maddie would stay on the line and give them any landmarks or houses or things that (Y/n) could see to narrow down their search for her.

But help was still out of reach just now and Maddie was all that (Y/n) had to help her through this.

"If you think you're ready to push then that's what we'll do. You've got me, I'll coach you through this. An over the phone birthing partner, hm?"

"I wanna g-go home!" (Y/n)'s wail had her sister in law cringing and coiling in on herself.

She didn't want to do this alone, not like this. Not somewhere unfamiliar with nothing to use, nothing to help her, no one present with her in case things went wrong.

But what other choice did she have?

"Buck will be with you soon, but until then, we need to get ready if the baby is coming. Where exactly are you, are you outside?"

"Hm. I c- I left the car." (Y/n) groaned through another contraction and tried to straighten up. Kneeling up like this felt better than sitting or lying down and she was glad she was near a wall for stability and closure and the fact that there were seemingly no houses or other people nearby. She needed medical help, not the help of any strangers who could be passing by.

"It might be safer to go back to the car, to sit in there while you have the baby-"

"No! No, Caleb could wake up. I can't!"

There was no chance of (Y/n) trudging back towards the car. She might not have stumbled too far away, but she had gotten far enough away that the car was only vaguely in her sight and she couldn't see any glimpse of Caleb. (Y/n) couldn't risk him seeing her.

If he woke up from the concussion (Y/n) gave him, she couldn't get away again in her state. It was unlikely that Caleb would wake up and be able to move about, not with the injuries he had sustained. But (Y/n) didn't want to be near him. She couldn't have him witnessing her in labour.

Caleb had already stolen this moment from her, she wouldn't let him taint it any further by witnessing or trying to comment or hurt her and ruin what was left of this moment. This memory.

It wouldn't be tainted by Caleb's hands.

"Okay, okay. Do you feel ready to push on the next contraction? If you do, then you sit however you like and take a deep breath. Big pushes."

(Y/n) found herself nodding until she realised she was still alone and Maddie couldn't see her. She hummed, bracing her hands on her thighs as she pushed up on her knees while her legs began to tremble. She tried her best to intake a deep breath but it came out in a low grumbling scream when the contraction hit and she tried to push.

Her ears started to ring with static and she didn't hear whatever Maddie tried to say to her until she repeated herself. Twice.

"(Y/n), I need you to feel and make sure baby is coming head first."

That was enough to send (Y/n)'s system shaking and she didn't feel able to kneel any longer, no matter how much she wanted to. She shifted around with a grunt until she was sat down with her back propped up against the wall and her eyes rolling until they could find some sense of focus once again.

Her chin tucked down into her chest as she brought her knees up and tried to feel for the baby as another contraction rumbled through her frame and she started to push again.

"Head's coming," She muttered weakly towards the phone that was now resting on her right side.

Thank God the baby wasn't breach, (Y/n) wasn't sure she would of been able to get through that on her own without someone to coach her in person and help if the baby got stuck or began to struggle.

"That's good. Keep pushing, big deep breaths for me." With a click of her hand, Maddie put (Y/n) on hold and patched through to the fire station radio frequency. "Dispatch to one-eighteen, are you any closer to (Y/n) yet?"

"We're almost at the coordinates but we don't see a road or a car yet."

"Once you find the car (Y/n) won't be too far away. She's starting to push, you'll need to take the medic bags with you and assist."

"Copy."

Maddie disconnected the call and switched back to (Y/n)'s frequency just as she heard her brother swear in fury. She couldn't listen to his howling cries or his infuriated screams at not being there sooner. That would only cause Maddie heartbreak and distract her. She couldn't calm down her brother, his team would have to do that. (Y/n) was her first priority.

"Maddie, I- I can't do this,"

"Yes you can, I'm right here and Buck is almost there. You can do this, you can have this little girl."

"There! There, stop the truck!" Evan's voice rattled through the speakers and his belt swung back and hit the window with a thud.

He scrambled out of the truck the moment Bobby stepped on the brakes and he hurried down the steps, aiming for the silver car parked up in the middle of nowhere. It was a deserted road, there was no one around and nothing out here. This was in the area code Maddie gave them and they hadn't passed any other cars around here.

That had to be it.

That had to be the car that Caleb drove when he decided to kidnap Evan's wife. The nerve.

Evan could feel his nerves igniting like sparklers had been woven into his veins and his hands started to tremble at his sides when he rushed towards the car but stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh dear.

He couldn't fathom how to take a proper breath when he saw the crumpled sight of Caleb before him.

Evan hadn't seen Caleb that many times. Only a few times he had bumped into him in the street and each time, (Y/n) had clung to Evan and pointed her ex out. Each time, Evan had pushed (Y/n) behind him or guided her away and he had only spoken to Caleb to tell him to back off and get the Hell away from (Y/n).

But there was no mistaking who it was on the floor and Evan didn't know what to do about that sight. The sight of his wife's ex, crumpled on one side on the floor, lying in his own dirty puddle of blood. He had a knife imbedded in his abdomen and a lot of dried blood caked on the side of his face. There were a few streaks of blood running down the side of his head and mingling in with his hair, trickling towards his eyes and across the bridge of his nose.

But Evan started to gasp for air when he contemplated what had happened to (Y/n). If Caleb looked like this, how did (Y/n) look? If Caleb had that knife on him, did he use that on (Y/n) before she managed to get away?

Did she have any injuries that she had neglected to tell Maddie about?

"Oh my God." Hen cast her eyes around the scene as her upper lip curled in distaste. But when she went to step towards Caleb, Evan's hand curled around her arm and pulled her back.

"We need to find (Y/n)."

"Buck, we still need to check on him too-"

"He fucking did this! If he's not already dead I'll kill him myself. (Y/n) needs help. Not him."

Evan didn't want anyone going near Caleb. If he hadn't already bled out then Evan wanted everyone to leave him to it. He wanted them to walk away and ignore Caleb like he was nothing more than an ant on the road. A speck of dirt that they didn't need to bother with.

It was more humane to let him bleed out and disappear right there than risking him living and Evan going over to finish the job. He didn't want Caleb to be treated or have the decency of living after what he had done today.

The contemplation was clear on Hen's face and she looked over to Bobby for guidance. If any of them could convince Evan, it would be their Captain. They were still firefighters, they were here to protect and help anyone, even the bad guys. They couldn't neglect Caleb when he needed medical treatment.

"Eddie, Chim, go check on him and call for a second ambulance to this location. We'll take the gurney and find (Y/n), she is our priority."

The contemplation was clear on Evan's face. He wanted to argue, he wanted to disagree and order everyone to go with him to find (Y/n) and leave this creep here. But he couldn't. He didn't have time to stand around and argue when he needed to find and help his wife. She needed him.

At least Bobby agreed (Y/n) was their priority. She was the one they would take to hospital, they wouldn't take Caleb, he could wait for a second ambulance to come down and sort him out. They needed to look after (Y/n).

Evan's boots stomped against the gravel and his hands fisted at his sides as he hurried back towards the truck and hastily snatched one of the medic bags. He slung it on his shoulder, walking in silent fury as he looked around for his wife. Maddie said she couldn't be too far away from the car. He hoped she was right.

He set off into a jog, hearing Bobby hurrying behind him while Hen moved to get the gurney to wheel it along behind them.

"(Y/n)?!"

Her name clawed past Evan's lips on repeat as he scoured round the endless landscape that was practically bare and void of anything and anyone.

But then he saw her. His eyes set on her in the distance, near a high rise wall, and Evan could feel his heart physically dropping from his chest down to the pit of his gut. His shoulders sagged and his hand clenched around the handle of the medic bag as he set off into a sprint, screaming her name until his face turned a bright shade of red and his lungs began to shrivel up.

"No, no no!"

Evan dropped, breathless, to his knees when he was close enough to (Y/n). His knees hit the floor with so much force that his body began to shake and shockwaves rattled through his system. And his arms were reaching out for her immediately.

His shaking hands grasped her arms as his jaw dropped, useless and broken as he couldn't fathom how to speak any other words.

She was crying. Her back was pressed against the wall, her head was dropped forward with tears drenching her features and silent cries tearing past her lips. Her knees were pulled up near her chest, but it was the sight of her arms cocooning a baby to her chest that made Evan cry.

He had missed it. He knew, deep within his gut that he wouldn't make it. Somehow, after Maddie's phone call everything seemed to settle in Evan's system before he could even process it. He just knew this wasn't going to work out in his favour and that despite the past nine months of him preparing himself and waiting anxiously for this moment, he knew Caleb had ruined it. That phone call assured Evan that he wouldn't make it for this moment and (Y/n) would be alone when she needed him the most.

"Sh- she's not breathing!" (Y/n)'s lips were drenched with tears as she thrust her trembling arms out towards Evan.

Nothing Maddie had suggested had worked. (Y/n) couldn't get her baby to breathe and she was starting to panic. She needed someone to do something because she was all out of options and energy and willpower.

Evan sank back on his heels as his lungs squeezed and screeched for oxygen when his daughter was placed into his arms.

He didn't think twice before he turned towards Bobby who knelt down beside Evan and ransacked the medic bag Evan had dropped to the floor.

"Let's take a look, okay sweetie, here we go." Bobby's voice was tender as he found a pipette and carefully squeezed it into the newborn's nose to make sure her airways weren't clogged and to remove any fluids she might have inhaled.

He then pressed his finger to her chin and opened her mouth so he could try and do the same to her mouth to clear her airways. While Bobby did that, Evan cradled her in his left arm and moved his right hand to start rubbing up and down her chest to stimulate her because she wasn't moving. She wasn't wriggling or kicking or making one subtle movement to indicate that she was okay.

Evan could barely see her due to the tears streaming down his face, but he tried to blink rapidly to clear his vision and took a deep breath to stimulate his lungs a bit more.

He kept running his hand forcefully across the newborn's chest while Bobby extracted a good amount of fluid from her lungs which started to terrify Evan. But the moment her little arm bashed against his chest and a strangled sound emitted from her lips, Evan felt like collapsing on the floor in a heap.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n) what's happening?"

"Mads, it's me. We're here a-and she's breathing now. It's okay." Evan wasn't sure he trusted his voice and when his words started to crackle and break up, he felt like dropping his head down and sobbing furiously.

He could hear the relief in Maddie's sighs that came through the phone that Evan was almost knelt on since he hadn't noticed it earlier or bothered to look at anything except (Y/n).

As soon as Hen aimed their way with the gurney, Bobby snagged the blanket from the end of the gurney and made quick work of swaddling it around the newborn. He didn't quibble when Evan eased his daughter over into Bobby's arms and shakily looked through the medic bag.

Once Evan found some clamps, he secured them around the cord and cut it, making sure there was enough cord still attached to the newborn in case there were any complications at the hospital. He knew sometimes things were injected or fed through the cord in emergencies and therefore it had to be long.

Tears continued to stream down (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

What would she have done if Evan hadn't arrived when he did? How would she have gotten their baby girl breathing? She had done everything Maddie suggested but nothing had worked. She couldn't clear the newborn's airways manually like she tried to do, she couldn't stimulate her, nothing worked.

A round of trembling set in (Y/n)'s system and she let her feet skid against the floor so her legs could flop down. She didn't have the energy to hold them up any longer.

Her shaking hands reached out until they were curled around Evan's arm and she found the strength to push forward and smother her face into his bicep. Allowing her cries to vibrate through his arm. She didn't care how loud she was or who heard her anymore, she just wanted everything to stop.

Twisting to the side, Evan carefully pulled his arm out of (Y/n)'s grasp so he could wind it around her waist instead. He reeled her closer until she was pressing into his chest with her face smothered in his shirt. He felt each cry vibrate through to his heart and the way she was shaking made him feel sick.

This was supposed to be a happy moment, one of the best moments of their lives. Now it had turned into one of the worst memories each of them would ever remember.

His right hand moved to cradle the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he brushed his thumb up and down her skin while his lips meshed with the top of her head.

"It's okay baby. Ooh, you did it, you did it." Evan hadn't wanted her to do it alone. He expected to be holding her hand, coaxing her through contractions, sitting in the hospital by her side.

He didn't expect or ever wish for (Y/n) to be sat in the middle of nowhere, alone and frightened and clearly hurt. Evan wasn't stupid, he had noticed that her knee was bleeding, so was one of her arms and when he peered over her shoulder, he could see a large cut in the back of her dress.

She hadn't gotten away from Caleb unscathed and that riled Evan up like nothing else. Both his girls had been hurt and threatened and traumatised. His daughter's life had been in jeopardy because of some sick, jealous idiot who didn't know when to leave (Y/n) alone.

"I wanna go home."

Evan almost didn't hear her quiet pleas muttered into his chest but when he did, his heart tried to beat out of his chest to reach (Y/n). He coiled around her tighter with his chin on top of her head and he began to sway them from side to side while he felt (Y/n)'s arms secure around his chest. Her hands scratched into his back and she clutched at him like she was afraid he was about to disappear or be taken away from her.

He wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't about to let her go either. Nothing was going to tear him away from either of his girls. He was here and he wasn't letting anything else happen to them, he was going to make sure they were safe.

"I know, I know sweetheart. It's okay, I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you. You're both safe now."

Evan hoped there was nothing Chimney or Eddie could do for Caleb. He hoped they were far too late to do anything for him, and he hoped Caleb had been lying in agony out there.

But if he wasn't dead, Evan was going to make sure he paid the price for what he had done today.

[fraugwinska]

I tried my hands on an Human!Alastor fic ;> It's still very different to write for Human Al, but I hope y'all like it ;> Special thanks to @hurthermore for beta-reading and encouraging me <3 This one's for you, love! !! NSFW - Heavy Smut Ahead, Minors DNI - 6k words !!

„You need technical assistance, sir?“

Alastor looked up from the papers on his desk, adjusting his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect her to come in this late, or at all, not while he was still at the station. The curious little sound engineer that had started half a year ago was standing at his office entrance, hands in the pockets of her outrageous trousers. She was tiny, her small figure barely filled the door frame, even with her bulky tool bag that hung from her shoulders. Alastor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands, focusing his tired gaze on her defensive expression.

She was a novelty, that one. Not the first woman working at the station of course, but the first to assert herself in the male-dominated field of technical engineering. Her male colleagues saw the spunky, brass girl as a joke, either ignoring her or trying (very amateurishly) to bed her – both which didn't faze her at all meeting both scenarios with the same contemptuous indifference. The women – secretaries, errand girls and concierges – were much more organized and refined in their bullying. Shortly after her arrival rumors had already spread, one more abstruse than the other, and they had collectively decided to pretend the engineer didn't exist in their periphery. More than once he witnessed her talking to his own secretary Ruth, just to be left standing while Ruth got up and walked out with the other girls to lunch in the middle of her sentence.

The little engineer took it all in stride, though. Never complained, never became outright disrespect- or revengeful. Gradually, her expressions steeled, her answers shortened and her work hours shifted to evenings or nights, with less people to run into.

Alastor had been fascinated by her the moment they first met. He had just started his usual 'Saturday Golden Hour', his favorite and most popular segment to host, broadcasting the newest releases of jazz and swing in the evening, just before sundown. Not even ten minutes in, right after he started playing Bing Crosby's new song 'Dancing in the Dark', listeners started calling the station by the handful, complaining about horrific feedback's and sudden blackouts. While Alastor watched Rufus Ellis, the head of the tech team, frantically run around, yelling at his workers, the little engineer had wordlessly grabbed a few tools and vanished. Five minutes later, his broadcast went back to working perfectly, sound crisp and quality flawless once again. She had returned, put back the tools from where she had taken them, and when Ellis – flabbergasted – asked her what she had done, she had calmly explained that she went up on the roof to check the transmitters connected to the radio tower and fixed a broken generator that had malfunctioned due to some doves nesting in it.

No one thanked or even acknowledged her, they just shrugged and went back to business as usual. But Alastor didn't forget, and from this day he was determined to find out more about this extraordinary girl. She reminded him of his own struggle as the exception to the rule – it was a well-kept secret throughout the station exactly what Alastor looked like and who he was. That was the only reason he was able to do what he felt was born to, a cruel, unfair compromise. So, he felt an unusual sympathy for her, in addition to just his natural curiosity for oddities. However, he didn't expect her to be so elusive.

Whenever he tried to engage her in a conversation, she gave short, finite responses, avoided his eyes and hurried to get away from him, sometimes even bordering on rudeness in her haste to flee from him. Alastor was, to be frank, perplexed - his charm usually drew in the ladies unwantedly. That it had failed him now, with the little engineer, when he welcomed it for a change? Peculiar. To a degree, it angered him, but it also awakened his hunting instinct, just not the one he was used to.

“I'm afraid so, dear.”, Alastor smiled, standing up. He rounded his desk, hands behind his back, and went to her side, looking down a t her. Granted, he was a tall man, but next to her, he felt almost gigantic, which satisfied him in a strange way. “I noticed my microphone was acting up today, and would like you to take a look at it, if you don't mind. Before it decides to give up on me mid-broadcast.”

“That's my job, sir.”, she just answered, eyes intensely staring at the carpet. Alastor's eyebrow twitched in slight aggravation. But he lead her to his booth, unlocking it to let her in. She went straight to his seat, dropping her tool bag next to it and started to pull his microphone to her to inspect it. He quietly closed the door, locking it discreetly – just as a precaution so she couldn't flee him again so easily, now that he finally had her in his vicinity.

Alastor walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her carefully taking the device apart. She startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. “It may take a while, sir.”, she mumbled, an obvious attempt to make him leave. Alastor laughed. “I've got nowhere to be, dear, take your time.”, he said with a hint of mischievous delight. He heard her scoff, turning back to her work. There was a prolonged silence, her fiercely ignoring Alastor's quiet, content humming while her fingers picked apart and put together parts and cables. He used the time to analyze her appearance – her hair was smooth but more unkempt than for a girl her age – how old must she be? Twenty, maybe Twenty-one? Vanity surely wasn't a flaw of hers, she didn't wear much make-up and Alastor saw various faint, light scars on her arms and hands, little bookmarks of mishaps and failures of her chosen career – the sight of them sent a sick shiver down his spine. Given his... hobbies, he found twisted appeal in scarred skin, finding beauty in those white, shimmering lines where blood once dripped from. He roamed her supple, curved body – unlike the recent fad of skinny, androgynous frames she was built womanly, round and fleshy... how beautiful could he paint her with white streaks on this vast canvas, add some masterpieces of his own to the collection?

“Alright.”, she pulled him out of his thoughts, mounting the microphone back on it's flexible stand. “A few cables were starting to corrode, I've replaced them, it should work fine now.” Alastor grinned down at her, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. The first real contact. “What an efficient engineer you are, dear. Always coming to my rescue, I have yet to show my gratitude.” She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge that he said something to her, just packing up the various things she had spread out for the repair. Now that was just rude.

“Hello? Is this thing on?”, Alastor strained himself to sound lighthearted as he knocked two times on her head, feeling the shivers of impatience rising. The engineer closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, shifting in his chair with furrowed brows. “I'm getting paid to do my job. I don't need anything else.” She attempted to stand up, but his hand, still resting on her shoulder, holds her in place. “If that's all, sir?”

“Now now, not to hasty. I'd think it's unlike you to leave work halfway done. Normally you are quite thorough, aren't you?” Alastor cooed, tilting his head at her. “My work is done.” she said, her voice now intense and a faint tint of red on her cheek and neck. My, there's the little ferocity he thought she'd lost at the job. “Why we haven't tested the thing, dear – How can I be sure it works properly?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” She looked outright offended at the implied possibility that she failed the task he asked of her. He had to chuckle, such a childish reaction to something so innocent. Maybe it was because implications like these grated her thick skin, but Alastor had no problem with being the straw that breaks that camel's back. He was skilled in putting people back in their place, and with her, it would be much more entertaining and much less fatal than with his other... acquaintances. He decided to tickle this sleeping dragon just a bit more, with a funny little idea in mind.

“No one is infallible – especially when they are so young. No fault in that, dear, but I'd like to be sure.” Alastor swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her up to stand. Putting up no resistance, most likely because of sheer perplexity, he twirled her almost like in a dance, side-stepping to his chair, and sat down, pulling her onto his lap, locking her there by an arm wrapped around her waist. The look on her face was worth it's weight in gold – eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned shock, and tips of the ears reddened. Her hands grappled the armrests so forcefully her knuckles were as white as the scars on her arms, and within seconds of regaining her active conscience she squirmed against his body. “What... that's so... sir, please let me g...” “There you go, dear.”, Alastor ignored her babbling, using his free hand to put the headphones on her. Her pulse under her thin, clear skin drummed faster against him, it's heat felt like it could boil his own blood.

He grabbed his own microphone, swinging it up between their faces and leaned forward, chin resting on her shoulder and the grille brushing his lower lip. She stared, dumbstruck, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. He chuckled against her cheek, leaning his mouth to the mic as he pushed the switch on the control panel up, and his rich, sultry baritone echoed in her headphones.

"How about it, darling, do you hear me?"

She breathed deeply, gulping, and her heart sped up even more. Alastor smiled devilishly against her soft skin, delighted and in awe by how far he got her worked up as she just nodded sharply.

"No soundrops, feedback or small interferences?", he hummed, his voice dripping sweet honey. She took a moment to answer. "N-no... everything seems alright."

"Lovely." He almost whispered, but she heard it crystal clear through the headphones. He let a low sigh and took off his glasses with one hand, slowly, teasingly, his nose tracing over her neck, as if it was coincidental, as if he'd never ever do such a thing intentionally, putting the accessory on the table next to him, eyes locking on the hazel ones of hers mirrored in them. "Although I wonder..." He pushed the mic nearer to her mouth, seeing a tremble running over her body. "... if the higher pitches might be a problem... You wouldn't mind help with that, would you?"

She stiffened up, barely daring to breathe, her skin erupting into goose flesh underneath his lips, he felt the impulse to press them against her, lick the salt and nervousness from it.

"Sir, I-I can't.."

He chuckled at her strained, whispering voice. How beautiful was her distress, so rich, so fragrant, almost strong enough for him to savor its essence without even needing to touch her.

"Then, may I assist you?", Alastor felt himself giddy with impish delight, his hands slowly trailing upwards from her waist to her bust, cupping her gently through the thin fabric. This made her wriggle again, a small, high pitched squeak leaving her lips that his microphone just amplified in glorious reverberations. Alastor chuckled darkly as she froze, neck burning red in deep embarrassment from the sound she heard from the headphones.

"Now we're talking. A wonderful first try. But let's see what else we can get out of you, darling. After all, we want to be thorough."

His hands palmed and kneaded the supple flesh through the cotton, feeling her squirm and tremble and the warmth of her bosom, imagining the blood rushing through her heart. How exquisite was she?

He could hear a small whimper as her head slightly lowered. Was she closing her eyes? He imagined it so. Imagined she'd shut her pretty eyes closed, furrow her brows in conflict as her legs pressed against each other in fruitless desperation. Her hands tightened on the armrest.

"You are so very quiet, dear. Why don't you relax and turn the volume up for me?"

With one of his hands he quickly loosened the two buttons that kept her blouse close and tugged at the collar to widen the neck hole, then slid under her brassier and gripped one breast with a tight squeeze. Alastor caught his breath as he realized just how sensitive and sweet the freckled skin under his fingertips was. Soft. Warm. So fragile... He would never have imagined this was hiding under her daily uniform, her sagging shoulders and loose jacket hiding those lovely features. Alastor felt a delightful spark crackle in his head and shoot up the nerves of his spine. His hunting instinct pulsed under the mask. But... with a slight delay, Alastor recognized it as a different type of hunger... one of the carnal and more depraved kind. Another novelty for him.

Alastor suddenly wondered what her lips tasted like, how soft and warm would they feel on his, her teeth biting, her tongue teasing him. How many ways could he break her - and could he do it quickly, with his bare hands, with his words alone maybe, or with his undisciplined arousal pushing against her rear-end through the fabric of his trousers? How often did she think of him? How did she think of him? Did she fear him, or dislike him even? He could hear her breathing hasten as he was trying to compose himself.

There was the devil's urge to just let himself go. To shove the equipment aside and tear those outrageously inadequate clothes away from her flesh, run his hands over the skin he didn't get to see yet, trace and map those scars of hers until they fade underneath his fingers. Mark her more thoroughly than any machine mishap ever could. Make her cry, moan, beg and whine under him until there was nothing left in her and this novel hunger was satisfied.

A wonderfully loud moan escaped her, a sweet, silky, vibrato sound of passion, that went right from Alastor's chest into his pelvis. She opened her eyes wide, pressing her hand firmly over her mouth, mortified at her own pleasure.

Oh, Alastor thought to himself, smiling mischievously as the shock of lustful rapture coursed through him, how easy it was for him to undo her. So unexplored, so fresh... "Do you wish to stop, darling?", he asked with a teasing pinch of her hardened nipple, which made her cry out and her other hand fly up and cover her mouth, too. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed and hot, eyes hazed with confused pleasure. He rubbed and teased the nipple gently in his palm, holding her close, making her struggle in defiant silence. The only sound was his gentle, patient humming.

But oh, she was breaking, crumbling like a stale beignet, and the noises his hand bullied out of her turned from hushed whimpers to barely muffled groans and cries for him, long and wanting 'Sir's and 'Oh's. She was melting under his palm. He grinned wickedly, his lower body hard and wanting against her as he put the microphone to his own lips again and spoke into it.

"Say it with your words, dear, should I stop? Or is it that you can't hear me?"

"Y-yes! I mean... No sir... d-don't... stop." There was a suppressed crack in her voice, and Alastor sighed with lust at her gasping affirmation, grinding against her plushy backside. He has found it amusing to push her limits, break through her thick skin and riddle her, like an ice pick cracking open a glacier. And now it would shatter her so gorgeously. "It's Alastor, darling." He whispered into the microphone with a dragging, sultry voice, his hand retreating from her breast, only to snake it's way to the hem of her pants. Her legs twitched, pushing together to futilely protect her modesty, but her body eagerly arched in a way that gave such easy way for his fingers to slip under the garments, feel and stroke the short, coarse hair, following it's trail, only to meet soft, silken and slippery wetness. A startled gasp escaped her and the only reason she didn't leap up was because Alastor kept his firm grip on her waist, pulling her tight against his throbbing erection. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her delicate throat as she whimpered, hands flying from her mouth to the armrests again, gripping so hard her fingernails dug into the hard wooden surface.

He tried to restrain himself but couldn't, he testily bit into the thin, soft flesh of her neck as his fingers found their way into her entrance and dipped deep in, coating his palm in generous wetness and crooking, exploring carefully, but with a patience even he was surprised at, eyes fixated on the taut fabric as he thrust into her in tandem with the waves her body undulated at the new sensation, her sweet taste on his tongue.

"S-Sir, please...", she groaned against his hand that still remained pressed over her lips, as if it could suppress the bliss Alastor wrought her into. He withdrew his hand for a moment, fingers wet, glistening and slick, as she was breathless, but she couldn't hide how her hips were chasing his retreating touch. He leaned into the microphone, barely lifting his mouth from her neck.

"Say my name, and I shall listen, little engineer."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, before opening her eyes, hazily staring at the ceiling as Alastor patiently waited, his fingers drawing idle circles around the sweet pearl on her outer folds. She pressed her lips together for a second, seemingly mentally preparing herself, and then opened her mouth, to give in, to submit to him.

"...A-Alastor, please..."

"I like the sound of my name from your lips, darling." He almost purred in return and resumed his movements with added vigor and focus. He put down his head on her shoulder, nuzzling into the juncture of her throat, watching her reaction and every detail of how his hand worked her over with the rhythmic hump of his hips, forcing him to breathe harshly as he was starting to be deprived of blood. He had barely noticed it, how incredibly erotic and sinful this whole thing felt not just for her, but for him, too. Partly of course, because of the chase, the coaxing, the hunt to have her call and writhe for only him, not for any of these imbeciles that tried to get their pick with her, his ears pricked and eager to savor her wanton sounds... A surprising need to be connected, closer to her than anyone ever could be in her whole life, and it made him even giddy to know no man had touched her like he was doing now, taking her purity with ease and glee.

But there was another part, something he thought slumbered too deep within him to be ever awoken, a roaring fire in his guts as the alluring, delicious scent of her arousal assaulted him like a siren's song, lulling, cajoling him with sensual desires to drown in them, to abandon all else and indulge, to completely give in and surrender. It wasn't tactical, calculating or strategic, but wild and primal and primitive, and not at all as painful or awkward to him as he had always thought it'd be.

What a revelation a woman's body could be.

He almost missed her coming into his eagerly working hand - a sudden, full-body twitch that went through her spine, a whine in her voice that ended in a choked sound as her orgasm claimed her and washed her away in the torrent of rapture - eyes going wide as the air escaped her in a desperate cry, hands gripping his thigh and the chair's armrest so hard the nails left little scratches in the wood. He barely had time to notice it before her climax hit him like a truck - the convulsing of her inner walls, gripping and spasming tightly around his fingers as he slowed and stroke out her high.

This moment was pure madness in his veins - his head foggy and airy, like a drug, like a vicious new addiction he would do almost anything for. Her body went slack against him, and the only thing that held her upright was Alastor's arm still securely around her, still keeping her pressed onto his hard length, still pulsing for some release of his own. Alastor wanted more, already was plotting what his hands could be doing to her body next as she came down from her high and back to earth, the heat leaving her body slowly as the soundproofed air trapped within the booth hung heavy with her hot breath and the smell of her passion.

The first movement of hers, after having come undone so beautifully for and on him, was to lift up the headphones.

"Well then, little engineer.", he huffed into her ear, laughing with barely hidden delight. "What is your final assessment?"

"Your microphone works perfectly. J-just like I said it would." She was determined, if nothing else. And unbearably cute when she was defiant. Alastor simply adored a fiery spirit, even as he was already thirsting for more. He looked up, her sharp tone prickling his pride. He shot her a glare from the corner of his eyes, his usually calm smile tugging upward in a half smirk as she avoided his eyes. Oh, was she starting to have second thoughts about her tone towards him?

"I always admired your work ethics and knowledge, my dear, even though you eluded my attempts to give you your well-deserved recognition." The hand not occupied in playing with her still moist, delicate flesh lifted the arm that she had still buried in his thigh, brushing his fingers lightly over her knuckles as he brought it to his lips. She went still as a stone under his fingertips. "I asked myself, what would be the reason you ignored and evaded me for so long? Do you dislike me that much, little engineering girl?"

"No." It took her a moment, a little quiver in her voice, but it seemed like this was the first time in a long while that her answer was as blunt and truthful. He sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on her hand. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

His eyes snapped to her, narrowed. She still refused to look at him, still tense and obviously embarrassed, her free hand trembling on her lap. So it hadn't been animosity that made her behave so coldly towards him, not aversion that made her flee his presence and not prejudice that made her avoid their encounters but...

"Ah." Alastor chuckled softly at her awkward behavior, grinning delightedly at the revelation. "Of course."

Shyness was a curious thing, he thought, often misinterpreted as either prude modesty or cold antipathy. And it seemed Alastor had fallen for the latter interpretation - he would've been miffed at the thought if it hadn't brought her here, into his lap, and into his hands - alas, better late than never, he guessed. And there was still something to take care of.

"Well, since you're not running from me now..." His hand left hers and joined his other one in pulling the belt of her pants open, gently tugging on the metal buckle until the strap slipped free. "Let me finally show my gratitude in kind, for the lovely engineer and her marvelous work."

He loosened his tight grip on her, enough so that he could turn her to face him - for once, she glanced at him from under her lashes, not only out of bashfulness now - but he thought he saw something like cautious anticipation there, too. His grin became even wider as she kept his gaze, even if barely. A last stubborn act of shy rebellion - in another situation it would have enraged Alastor, but now, he was delightfully fascinated and challenged by her stubborn nature, by the unpredictability of her reactions even now, as she herself hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and pushed them down over her shapely hips.

The last barrier of decency fell between them, revealing the full picture before him - there was her reddened face framed by cascading locks, eyes lowered in embarrassed defeat; Her stiffened nipples prominent on her perky, tight breasts; The damp patch of dark pubic hair that barely hid her glistening privates and the plush roundness of her thighs. And the whole body covered in tiny, white streaks, healed cuts and burns scattered in between her freckles. Oh, she would be delightful to ruin over and over again.

He took a step towards her, his hands immediately moving to her hip, exploring, caressing the soft flesh. This time, she did not move away from his touch and watched him with big, wide-blown eyes, full of expectation and a new type of uncertainty as he lifted her up onto the main control panel. He discarded of his jacket, the cloth too heavy and hot for him now, and threw it aside carelessly, leaving his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck as he went back to the woman, his little prey. Her knees parted slightly when his body wedged between them, an inviting gesture from her, though Alastor suspected she herself didn't notice. He grinned darkly, lifting her chin up by a finger, before bending over and planting a firm but restrained kiss on her lips, feeling his own skin crawl in electric stimulation, eager to finally taste her. His hands made quick work of his slacks, freeing his almost painfully erect member with a pleased sigh. From the way she gasped and her eyes widened, he could easily deduct that she had less to no experience whatsoever.

Oh, what a fortune. Alastor relished the thought of claiming precious, well kept treasures, his breath quickened as he broke from the kiss, hands running over her heated skin in swift, soothing motions, goosebumps trailing in their wake as he felt her shudder with hesitant desire beneath him. Oh, this would be fun.

"Let's be sure you'll hear my message loud and clear, this time, hm?"

He took her mouth again before she could protest, discreetly angling the microphone down with one hand just near enough where she would soon enough be connected to him. With a sly grin, he lined himself up to her waiting entrance and slowly pushed in. She stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion, a mewl muffled against his lips and hands in his shirt, and he stilled, enjoying the way her body reflexively tightened and squeezed around him as she tried to cope with the sensation of him stretching her.

She gasped as her chest heaved from the feeling, her walls convulsing around him like a vice. He allowed a low groan to escape him, she felt so gloriously tight and hot he had trouble keeping his composure, hands twitching to rut into her and just plow through.

"Ready for the final test, darling?"

"T-test...?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer as he started to move. In and out, with slow and drawn out movements, keeping his thrusts shallow at first, deep and precise enough to press against her innermost point and making her moan helplessly. The wet sounds of their coupling reached his ears, coupled with her wanton cries, an obscene and enchanting noise he was waiting for. With a mischievous smile, he picked up the headphones from where she had put them down, lifting it to one of her ears. Her face flushed in such lovely shades of red when the squelching echoes of what the mic picked up reached her ears, amplified and oh-so-clear thanks to her own handiwork.

He let out a guttural chuckle as he leaned into her, still thrusting slowly, her head falling on his shoulder and hanging onto his shirt for dear life, knuckles white as she could hear all the sweet sounds their bodies made and how they connected, each inch of her body singing praises for only him, for his size and rhythm. He could tell the moment her walls began to relax around him, squeezing the blood into his member as she took him in again and again, accepting it's size wholeheartedly with greedy eagerness.

"Such a talented woman.", he praised into her free ear, sighing at the delicious way her slick, swollen lips slid over his length, her thighs twitching against his with every single thrust and every word that fell from his lips. "Just listen to the fruits of your impeccable labor, dearest. Almost wasted in a place like this."

A moan, shaky and delirious, a shuddering sob for him, so high and flustered she sounded almost pained escaped her throat. She pressed against him and with a jolt that reverberated through her spine, convulsing so sweetly against him he almost came from the tremor that rushed through his cock. But it wasn't her peak. Alastor hadn't gotten his fill yet and he wouldn't stop now until it was both of their turns, but damn if he wasn't tempted.

He reached to the other ear to put the second headphone on her. Now her world had no escape, she could only listen, only hear every filthy wet noise of his slick slide, his ragged breathing and the beat of her own heart- a heavy, cacophonous staccato.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, head clouded and flushed, looking up at him with rapt fascination. His own gaze met hers as his pace increased, suddenly snapping his hips with harsh precision, and his voice was low, carnal.

"But their loss is my gain, darling. Don't you ever forget that, now."

And his thoughts went to of those incompetent, thickheaded dunderheads who took their jobs, but were no where as skilled or invested as her, knowing full well they were inadequate and undeserving to get close to her, trying to touch what clearly should have been for him alone to do, and it sent a nasty spark of possessiveness through Alastor, igniting a furious hunger, a beast waking up within him and snarling with unbridled desire, to claim, to mark her as his. And nobody else's.

He grinned devilishly, a low rumble in his throat as a needy whine escaped his little engineer and he grabbed her waist tightly, digging his fingers into the fat there as he picked up speed and drilled into her with more intensity, savage, merciless and utterly ruthless, finally throwing all composure and rationality overboard to replace it with feral instinct and possessive desire. Her hands clutched him desperately, thighs tensing and pressing against his moving hips, her choked cries of his name were nothing else but heavenly and he was filled with lecherous obsession and greed - yes, he could get addicted to the sound of his name being screamed and moaned from her lips, her sweet, wet flesh fluttering around his throbbing length, the violent stuttering of her breath that just enticed and pleaded him to continue.

"Mine. My own, little, eager engineer." he hissed against the shell of her ear, headphones slipping from her, hips still pounding away at her heat with feverish pace and an undeniable pleasure coiling low and tightly within his pelvis. With every harsh thrust, every desperate, salacious cry, he pulled her deeper and deeper into sinful depravity, her head thrown back in bliss, the headphones slipping from her head as her nails scraped desperately over his clothed chest. The sharp bites of pain mixed with a sweet ache and tightening within Alastor, telltale signs of his climax nearing rapidly. "No more avoiding me, no more elusion or flight for you, understood? You are mine and mine alone."

Her toes curled as his words spurred her over the edge with him, her core spasming and quivering around him as her moans became ragged and desperate, jaw agape in rapture but no words found as she toppled into her orgasm, dragging and taking Alastor with her. The immense wave crashed into him and swept him along, and he growled in the sensational and exhilarating feeling and his head fell against her shoulder, with a growl ripping from his throat, low and guttural. His seed emptied in her with long, forceful spurts, her body tensing and relaxing as each twitch and jerk pushed his release deeper and deeper, the pleasure so acute, so sharp it was almost painful, until both their highs subsided and Alastor had to rest against her for a moment, their labored breaths the only noise that reached his ears.

Alastor sighed contentedly, his hand loosened it's grip and his fingertips gently traced over the angry, red lines they had left behind on her tanned skin of her waist, feeling her shivering underneath him. His lips pressed into the soft crook of her neck, placing a tender kiss on the flushed skin. He would have to do something about the bruising and marks... His eyes wandered up and he noticed that she was staring now, hazily and exhausted, her pupils still wide, lips bitten swollen and reddened, her cheeks and chest still painted pink with lingering arousal. The sight was so deliciously debauched and lewd, a smirk crept on his face.

"It seems that the equipment is indeed in perfect working order again, thanks to you, darling."

"...Yes, sir." she replied warily, her voice still breathless. Her usual demeanor returned, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes she tilted her head away from him. He chuckled, lifting her chin and capturing her lips once again, not much for hers but more for his own gain, and then moved off and out of her. He took a moment to savor the view - the red, swollen flesh, leaking his essence that pooled on the metal surface of his control panel he would work on in a few hours, and her thighs glistening in the faint orange light of the booth.

"Please, darling, from now on..." Alastor took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the mess of his hands and cleaning her with careful gentleness, her legs twitching weakly at the contact.

"...call me Alastor."

He hummed quietly and lifted her from the console, closing the buttons on her blouse again with fastidious efficiency after she slipped back into her pants. Then, with a few quick motions, Alastor picked up his jacket and fixed his own appearance, before helping her stand properly on her trembling feet.

"I trust we won't have any misunderstandings anymore?" He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly, a soft and yet challenging smile, his hand cupping her face and the thumb brushing her lower lip. Her cheeks grew warmer and redder again, her eyes flickering downwards, then back up, before she nodded silently. "Excellent."

Alastor put the headphones back on their rack, before taking his glasses, slipping them back on and reaching for the door handle, his other hand extended towards his little engineer in an inviting motion.

"Come along, my dear. Let me treat you to a nice cup of coffee, I find there's nothing better after a job well done."

She paused, her face going a shade darker and her lips pressing together. Then, after a heartbeat, she stepped next to him and through the door he opened for her. He could see the small smile that crept onto her lips as she hurriedly passed him, a shy glance shot towards him, but this time it didn't feel like she wasn't fleeing, but almost daring for him to chase her.

Another kind of hunt, he mused, and the thought made him smile as he closed the door and followed her out.

[kernom]

bUNtv; hhhhOOOLLY SH[!@#$]+ i LOVE thIS cREATURE where arE they wHere wHerE WHERE ARE THE [💁 Zoo tickets are for $1.99-] WHERE CAN I fIND thEM

[harryslittlefreakk]

favourite crime 2

summary: harry whisks y/n away for a romantic weekend, but when feelings and questions turn into actions, their relationship only gets more complicated

warnings: smut (protected sex, oral f receiving, choking, spanking, cockwarming) angst, mentions of cheating, forbidden love, age gap

wordcount: 7.3k

a/n: thank you SO much for all the love and feedback on the first part 🙈 i can’t cope. SORRY this took so long to post. please let me know if you enjoyed this one!!! love you <3

(as always it’s not proofread yet so proceed with caution)

special mention to this series’ biggest fan, my homegirl @harryscumcloth who has helped me with this a million times AND may have beat me if this wasn’t posted sooner <3

favourite crime masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

You were nestled in the corner of a quiet pub, worlds away from anyone who might recognise you or Harry, yet still almost jumping out of your skin when anyone met your eye. The armchair you were curled up in was rugged and worn, the padding molded to the shape of every person that had been there before you. Although not the venue you’d pick for a steamy weekend break, the B&B was cozy and welcoming, and somehow it felt even more romantic than a five-star sex hotel. The gentle murmur of distant conversations and the clinking of glasses pulled your attention away from your drink, your eyes scanning across the room until they landed on Harry’s.

Warm bulbs cast a dim glow over his face, the knit of his brows subtle as he stared at you, though he was clearly somewhere else. He’d been going crazy since he last saw you, the memories of the way he made you fall apart at the forefront of his mind. It fuelled a fire within him that his own fears kept putting out. He was burning then frozen, burning then frozen, over and over again.

You were young and needed to date properly, not be someone’s secret. And he couldn’t be your secret, wouldn’t allow himself to darken you with a warped and forbidden affair. But he couldn’t think of anything but you, the way your walls gripped at his fingers, the look in your eyes as he kissed you, the pink of your cheeks after you came. He was totally infatuated with you, yet he knew this was as far as anything could go.

You watched him for a while, waiting for him to speak up. The drive had been mostly quiet, neither of you knowing exactly how to express what you were thinking. Until Bonnie Raitt’s I Cant Make You Love Me came on the radio and two hands shot out to change the station. Harry’s eyes met yours for a second as his fingers wrapped around your wrist, a soft chuckle slipping out. He guided your hand to his thigh, his touch hovering until your thumb started to caress the fabric of his trousers.

“No sad songs in my car,” he teased, eyes fixed on the road. “Put one of your playlists on.”

You picked up your phone, momentarily feeling stupid and young as you scrolled through your Spotify. You had no idea what music Harry liked, and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself by displaying a horrific taste in music. He’d somehow noticed your internal panic, rolling his eyes in jest. “Just put on your on repeat. I wanna see what music you like,” he grinned.

You scrolled through your Spotify with a furrowed brow, your indecisive fingers hovering over the screen. a smirk playing on his lips, watched her struggle. "We’ll be there before you pick something.”

"It's important, Harry. I have to find a playlist that doesn’t have High School Musical in."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "For real?”

"Yes! What's wrong with that?" you laughed, pulling your hand away from his leg.

"Well, for a start," Harry began, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “You’re not twelve.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't help but giggle. "Hey, at least I have variety. You probably listen to dad rock and indie songs that you think will make girls fancy you.”

"Touché," he said, holding up a hand in surrender. "But at least I don’t have the music taste of a pre-teen.”

You rolled your eyes, finally settling on a song. As the first notes played, Harry groaned exaggeratedly. “Just because you have High School Musical in your playlist, doesn’t mean you should play it.”

You grinned, holding up your phone as a mock microphone. "Come on, admit it. You love it."

Harry shook his head, unable to keep a straight face. "You're impossible."

“You’re staring at me,” Harry said finally, pulling you from your daydream.

“You’ve been staring at me since we sat down,” you laughed. “I only looked just now.”

Harry smiled softly, patting his lap in a signal for you to cosy up to him. You stood up, quietly moving around the table, your eyes never leaving Harry.

He opened his arms as you approached, taking a hold of your hand as you settled onto his lap, curling up against him. Harry's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, his thoughts momentarily forgotten. The comfort of the embrace was immediate, a perfect fit that seemed to melt away the distance that had separated you moments before.

You listened to the steady beat of his heart as Harry pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

“I know what you’re thinking, Harry,” you whispered, glancing down at your drink before meeting his gaze. His anguish was written all over his face, his confusion and indecisiveness seeping into the lines on his tanned skin. He leaned back into the seat, shifting you slightly so that he could see you clearly.

“What am I thinking, bunny?” he asked, his knuckles caressing your cheek.

“You’re thinking… that it’s for the best that nothing happens between us, but you still want it to.” You didn’t want to have the conversation so soon, but it was clearly troubling you both. Harry stayed silent, his dark eyes trained on your face as you fiddled with your straw.

“And you think this weekend should be the end of it,” you added, face hardening as you said it. He made a quiet murmur of agreement, brows knitting as if hearing the words out loud caused physical pain.

“I’ll follow your lead, H. If this is as far as we go, then I say we make it the best weekend ever,” you grinned, hoping that a twinkle cut through the sadness you could feel clouding your eyes.

Harry scanned your face for a second, searching for any sign of hesitance. But you were settled on your choice, your strong gaze giving him no indication of any deeper feelings. He pulled you closer to him after a moment, satisfied that you were on the same team.

To agree on the premature death of your relationship was a gut wrenching feeling, in the most peculiar way. You barely knew Harry outside of his time as your professor, and now you were wondering if he would end up as your one great love, the one big regret you’d have when you’re old and grey, or if he’d be the one who ruined you. You were almost certain it was the former, but it wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders as you settled into his lap, with one final scan around the pub in case it was suddenly full of people you knew. Harry’s hand pressed against your cheek, turning your head until you faced him. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, his lips parted just enough for you to see the white of his teeth as he stared at you.

It was the closest you’d been since you found yourself on his lap at the lake. Friday was your study day, your only lecture taught by a different professor, and you’d lost track of time and missed your grading session with Harry. The last you’d seen of him was as he drove away after dropping you home, your panties still dripping from the orgasm he’d given you.

The heat radiating off the wall of muscle grazing your chest had you burning up, your cheeks flushing a bright red under his gaze.

You’d noticed that he always looked at you as if he were undressing you in his mind, but now that he’d seen your body, his eyes bored deeper. So deep that it was almost as if he thought he could get you naked with just one look. But with the way he was looking at you then, it could have been a real possibility.

Harry’s lips ghosted across yours, dragging across your cheek until they settled at your ear. “We should go and check out our room,” he whispered, his voice huskier than it had been previously. His free hand tightened around your waist as he spoke, sending shivers down your spine.

You slid off his lap, leaving your barely touched drink on the table as you headed for the stairs. Harry was close behind you the whole way, his hands finding your hips as you started to climb.

You barely made it through the door before he was pulling you to him, his core pressed tight to your back. You could feel everything, every dip and curve of muscle, every twitch of his cock. Harry’s ringed hands gripped and clawed at your clothes with an urgency that sent a chill through your body.

You let him push you towards the bed, turning to face him when your calves hit the frame. He slid a hand up your shirt without a second thought; the sting of his nails, the warmth of his touch, the drool wetting his bottom lip as he stared at you open-mouthed. It was enough to make your knees buckle beneath you, your body suddenly not strong enough to withstand the energy and desire that coursed through you.

In that moment you realised that Harry was addictive. There was an energy that flowed through him, a frantic buzz of electricity shooting through your bloodstream at the mere thought of him. His touch, his voice, his presence left you with a high that you never want to come down from - a dangerous game to play. You knew you couldn’t have him, and the idea of the fall terrified you. But while thoughts of him were clouding your mind, the what ifs and what thens, he was with you, in front of you, tugging your t-shirt over your head.

You pulled your maxi skirt down, stepping out of it and throwing it somewhere off to the side. Harry backed away from you, his hands falling limply to his sides as his gaze dropped down to your panties. It was his first time seeing you properly, and he wanted to take in everything. The curve of your hips, the freckle on your thigh, the scarring of what once was a belly button piercing. His eyes trailed higher, to the fullness of your breasts, the blush of your nipples, the way your hair rested on your shoulders.

“So fucking pretty, kitten,” he whispered, reaching out to pull you towards him. His hand gripped your wrist firmly as he closed the distance between you. With a swift, fluid motion, Harry pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a shock against the heat radiating from his body. The impact took your breath away, but before you could fully process the sensation, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding. The world around you blurred into insignificance, your whole being succumbing to the urgency and passion of Harry’s tongue as it moved against yours. His feet nudged between yours, his erection pressing into your parted thighs.

He pulled away after a minute, his fingers tangled in your hair. You were panting, gasping for breath as his lips moved down your neck. “Tell me what you need from me,” he murmured, nipping at the skin between hot kisses.

“Anything, everything,” you whispered, your voice breathy, a ghost of itself. Harry pulled away from you, straightening up so he could look you in the eye. His fingers trailed across your jawline, his normally mossy eyes now like coal as they moved over your face.

“Don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as his hand roamed your skin, tracing the curves and contours of your hips and waistline.

“Give me everything, H,” you moaned, reaching out to touch him as the anticipation became too much to handle. His hand left your face, fingers tangling between yours as he blocked you from touching him, holding your hand at your side as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

You widened your legs for Harry without a second thought, grip tightening on his hand as he pressed wet kisses to your inner thighs.

“Been dreaming about this,” he drawled, his breath dancing lightly across the inside of your thigh. You were powerless, frozen in place by your need as he curled his fingertips around the lace of your thong, kisses and nips following as he tugged it down your thighs.

He let go of your hand as soon as you were exposed, moving to lift both of your feet with a gentle touch, one after the other. You kicked your panties somewhere across the room, pushing your shoulders back into the wall as his nose nudged into your thigh, opening you wider for him.

Your breath was caught in your throat, blood pounding in your ears as you looked down at Harry, watching as he rested back on his heels and took in every part of you. He stared like he wanted to commit it to memory, like this was what he needed to see when he closed his eyes. He draped your leg over his shoulder, licking a hot stripe from your knee to your core.

And then suddenly, without any warning, his fingertips trailed through your entrance, collecting your slick. Your head fell back against the brick as he took his fingers between parted lips, his cheeks hollowing as he suckled on your juices. The whimper that you let out was obscene, he was obscene, worshipping your pussy as if it was everything to him.

When he was satisfied, Harry’s tongue traced the line that his fingers had made, licking into you so tenderly yet driven by desire. He was eating you like he’d been starved, like your pussy was the prey he’d been hunting. Your knees buckled as his nose grazed your clit, your weight shifting slightly as you dropped deeper onto his mouth. You could feel his smirk against your entrance, his moan vibrating through your core as you gasped and panted. But you were playing into his hands, giving him the reactions he so desperately wanted.

His deep groan fluttered through you as your hands twisted into his curls, the sharp sting of your nails just enough to spur him on. He repeated the same movement, over and over, his focus alternating between your entrance and your clit, his fingers wrapped around your thigh, tips digging in just enough that you expected bruises by the morning. The thought of it made you ache, the idea of his touch marking you, making you his, was enough to have your body trembling over him.

Your heel dug into Harry’s back, your motivation somewhere between steadying yourself and pulling him closer, your fingers tangling tighter into his curls. And when he looked up at you, his eyes locking onto your face as his lips moved towards your clit, his fingers sliding into your entrance, you were wrapped around his finger, indebted to him, owned by him from that moment onwards.

“Look at me,” he demanded, the soft touches of his lips against your nerves leaving you whining and rocking against his mouth. When you didn’t pull your head down fast enough, a splayed hand slammed against the curve of your ass. You cried out, tugging on his hair as your eyes met his, your eyelids heavy.

“Good girl,” Harry whispered, his soft lips wrapping back around your clit. Every muscle in your body seemed to tense at once, your entire body buzzing as he worked his fingers inside of you, his free hand rubbing at the mark his slap was sure to have left. It was too much, the pleasure defeating you as you started to fall apart, crying out his name as you came.

Harry waited a minute, kissing across your mound and your inner thighs, before slipping your leg from his shoulder. He got back to his feet slowly, his hands trailing the outside of your body as if he might need to catch you. Your heart was hammering in your throat, the flashes of sweetness and purity in Harry’s actions somehow making the moment even dirtier.

As soon as he was level with you again, confident that you can support yourself, his lips were back on yours. Hungrier, more desperate than before. He pulled you into him, his cock twitching as you bite down on his bottom lip, his hands splayed across your back. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so overwhelmed with desire and need, and you weren’t sure you ever would be again.

“Y’so fucking perfect,” Harry murmured against your mouth, turning you around and pushing you onto the bed. “Do you know how it’s been for me?” he asked, tugging his tshirt over his head. “Watching you in class, seeing you flounce around in those little skirts knowing what’s underneath. Knowing that pussy is waiting for me?”

You shook your head, moving your legs just slightly so he had a better view of you. “Such a tease,” he continued, voice so low you could barely make out his words. You were aching all over, physically pained by the lack of touch, your walls throbbing with impatience. He was taking too long, too many seconds wasted by fiddling with the button on his slacks.

“Please, Harry,” you whimpered, reaching out to help him undress. “You don’t like waiting?” he scoffed, finally stepping out of his trousers. The outline of his cock is all you can focus on, your lips parting as you stare at him. “I need you to tuck me,” you whined, massaging both of your breasts in an attempt to take the edge off.

He walked around the bed to the nightstand, eyes never leaving your body. “All fours,” he demanded, plucking a condom from his wallet.

You followed his orders, turning onto your knees and pressing your chest flat to the bed. His eyes bore into your core as he rolls the condom over his cock, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered, coming up behind you and tracing the curve of your hips with splayed hands.

He pushes himself against your folds, his tip nudging against your clit with every move. You rock your hips back into him, whining until he lines himself up with your entrance.

Your head dropped to the mattress as he finally pushed himself into you, groaning as your walls pulsated around his width. He was big. Bigger than you’d imagined, bigger than you’d ever had. You could feel him everywhere. Your head dropped to the mattress as he finally pushed himself into you, groaning as your walls pulsated around his cock. He was big. Bigger than you’d imagined, bigger than you’d ever had. You could feel him everywhere, his tip pressed against your g-spot, his girth splitting you apart.

You gripped the bedsheets with shaky hands, your knuckles white as Harry pulls back.

“Perfect fucking cunt,” he drawled his fingertips digging into your waist. He glanced down, eyes dark as he watches his cock pushing back into you, the condom coated in your slick.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t focus on anything except moving your hips back to meet his thrusts. His cock was everywhere, filling every inch of you as his hands roamed your ass, each thrust more powerful than the last. “More, Harry, *please*,” you begged, rocking your hips into him so hard that the slap of skin on skin echoed around the room.

“Still need more, huh?” Harry cooed, his voice so low it was almost sinister. You nodded, whimpering as he slammed back into you.

He gathered your hair into a ponytail, twisting it around your fingers and tugging until your back was flush with his chest. His hand snaked around to your throat, squeezing lightly as he tilted your head back to look at him.

“Such a good little slut,” he drawled, watching as you trailed a hand down to your clit, knees weak as you rubbed circles against the sensitive nerves.

Harry leaned down a little, sinking his teeth into the flesh next to his hand. You couldn’t keep from crying out, writhing in his grasp. You’d never felt so much before. His cock fucking into you, his grip on your throat, the pull of your skin between his teeth, your fingers at your clit. It was like you were experiencing everything at its fullest, your senses heightened as your body went into overdrive. You didn’t have time to register your orgasm until you were in the thick of it, rolling your body against your palm, choking out a scream of Harry’s name.

He eased his grip on your throat, letting you drop down onto the mattress as you rode through your high. He pulled out of you, rolling onto the centre of the bed with a groan.

You climbed on top of him, lining his length up with your entrance and slipping him back inside of you. Your head rolled back on your shoulders as you felt him from a new angle, your hands resting against his tattooed torso.

“So fucking big, H,” you whined, circling your hips as if it would make any difference to the way you were bursting at the seams, stuffed full of his cock.

His hands found your hips as you started to inch yourself off him, your eyebrows furrowed as you try to get used to his size.

“Taking me so well, kitten,” Harry murmured, his eyes glazed over as he watches you ride him, your ass slapping against his groin as you start to bounce on him.

He cupped the back of your neck with one hand, pulling you closer to him. You planted your hands on either side of his head, grinning against his mouth as he kissed you, the taste of your slick still lingering on his tongue. Your body was practically aglow with energy, tingling from your head to your toes as he reached around to slam a hand against your ass. Each smack of his palm is punctuated with your loud cry, falling into time with the squelch of your juices to form an obscene chorus. It’s an entirely depraved, overwhelmingly dirty sound, especially for the early afternoon.

But as Harry gripped your hips and held you steady, fucking up into you with the power and force of a machine gun firing, you really don’t care at all about anything going on around you. In that moment, it’s you and Harry against the world. That’s the final thought you had before your walls clamped around his cock, whimpering into his mouth as your third orgasm of the day started to tear through your body. Harry’s thrusts got sloppier, his hips jolting as he came, your pussy milking him of all he had. Your hips rocked as he panted into your mouth, rubbing at the welts starting to rise on your skin.

You waited for his heart rate to lower before easing off of him, pulling the condom from his length as you kneeled beside him. Harry watched as you tied the end, dropping it haphazardly near the bin before flopping down next to him, chest still heaving.

You stared at the ceiling, stars still lingering in your vision. It wasn’t fair. Harry wasn’t the kind of man you were meant to have a fling with, he was the white picket fence and babies man. You knew that questioning him and begging would only make you look younger and sillier in his eyes, but the lingering vulnerability had your words slipping out before you could hold yourself back.

“I don’t want this weekend to be all we have,” you whispered, rolling over to look at Harry.

“I don’t either, princess,” he murmured, propping himself up on his elbow. His free hand pushed the stray hairs from your face, his touch never far from you. “But at this point in your life, do you really want to sneak around for a few years?”

You stared at him in silence for a moment, your bottom lip jutting out as you realised how impossible any kind of relationship would be.

“I don’t like it anymore than you do. But if I have you, I want to be able to show you off. You’re too good to be any man’s secret.”

You groaned, throwing your hands over your face. How could someone make you feel so wanted even as they let you down?

“You know I’m right,” Harry teased. You could almost hear the arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. You rolled onto your back, letting your arms drop limply at your sides. “No,” you grumbled.

“I am,” Harry continued, climbing over you and planting his hands on either side of your head. “Now are you gonna carry on sulking, or are we going to enjoy ourselves?”

The injustice melted away as you stared up at him, his toothy grin spreading as your face softened. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pushing your hips up until they met his core. “Show me what I’ll be missing,” you whispered, the tug on your heartstrings overpowered by your need.

—

The shower, desk, window seat, sink, every surface possible had all been used by the time the sun went down that evening. You were exhausted, every inch of your body throbbing. Harry could see it in the way your face screwed up just a little every time you moved, his hands never ceasing as they rubbed over your sides.

He glanced down at you, a soft smile curving his lips. You were somewhere between simply too content to open your eyes and full-on knocked out as he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the you. He padded softly across the room, kicking away discarded items of clothing as he made his way to the bathroom, the cool tiles a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed.

The tub had barely started filling up before you appeared in the doorway, rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“Hi, kitten,” Harry grinned, pulling you in for a hug.

You hated how easy and normal everything felt as you wrapped your arms around his back, your head falling between his pecs as if this was where you were meant to be.

“What you doing?”

“I was rough with you today, and I feel bad,” he shrugged. “And you seem like the kind of girl who likes a bath.”

“I’ve had a really nice day,” you sighed, your voice muffled against his t-shirt. You really had, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t right that he’d fucked you the way you’d always dreamed of. It wasn’t right that he’d been the Troy to your Gabriella. It wasn’t right that he was taking the time to care for you. It wasn’t right that this was the way your story would end.

But you pushed those feelings down as Harry kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing circles on your lower back. “Good. Me too.”

You stepped away from him as he reached around to shut the water off. “What are you supposed to do while I have a bath?”

“I don’t know. Fall to my knees and cry until you’re back,” Harry shrugged, tangling his fingers with yours and pulling your arms around his neck.

You dodged his kiss with a laugh, shaking your head as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t even think about asking me to join you. That is the smallest bathtub I’ve ever seen,” Harry teased.

“Then just stay here with me,” you ask, grinning when he agreed. He pulled your hands to his mouth, kissing each of your knuckles one by one.

“Just give me a minute,” he told you, letting go of you as he backed out of the bathroom.

You stepped into the bath when Harry left, listening out for a clue as to what he suddenly needed to do. All you heard was the main door closing behind him, and his quick steps down the hallway.

He padded back into the bathroom a few minutes later with a flute of champagne in either hand. “Nice touch,” you grinned, washing the bubbles from your hand as he passed one of the glasses to you with a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“Can’t fault a man for trying,” Harry smiled, closing the toilet so he could sit next to you.

You pushed the bubbles around the surface of the bath for a second, watching as they popped and sparkled.

“Take your top off,” you giggled, turning to Harry with a bright grin.

He eyed you suspiciously as you glared back at him, your smile never faltering. “I’m naked, H. In the bath. What exactly are you expecting me to do right now?”

He shrugged, tugging his t-shirt over his head after a pause and balling it between his fists.

“I never knew you had so many tattoos. Didn’t really get to see them earlier,” you told him, eyes trailing across each one. You’d caught glimpses of them before, but you hadn’t expected his torso and arms to be littered in so much ink.

“Can’t really show them at work,” Harry shrugged, glancing down at his inked torso.

“I like the moth,” you mused, though your eyes were glued to the ferns poking out from the waistband of his pants. “Which one’s your favourite?”

He looked over himself, twisting his arms around so he could get a view of each tattoo. “These two, I think,” he answered finally, pointing to the A and G on his shoulders. “For my mum and sister.”

“You don’t have the right build for an English professor,” you stated, not entirely expecting to voice that aloud.

“No?” Harry laughed, his eyes back on you as you sipped your champagne. You shook your head, cheeks a little flushed as you realised you’d have to explain yourself.

“English professors are grey. Or beige. They’re old and withered and smell like dusty libraries,” you told him. “You’re…”

“Not like that, I hope,” Harry finished for you, his dimples carved deep into his cheeks as he grinned.

“Not at all. I think every single student has a crush on you,” you smirked. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

Harry shook his head, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Didn’t even consider it until I was about to graduate.”

“I have no idea what I’m going to do after,” you confessed, nose crinkling as you thought about it. “None of the jobs available really appeal to me. I might have to marry rich.”

Harry let out a loud laugh as you giggled. “Don’t look at me. I have about £5 left to my name after paying my bills.”

You settled into an almost uncomfortable silence, both seemingly realising how close you’d gotten to inadvertently discussing marriage.

“Are you hungry?” Harry asked finally, cutting through any tension at risk of building up.

“A little,” you replied, tilting your head as you look at him.

“Want me to go get something?”

You nodded, setting your empty glass down as Harry leans over, planting a gentle kiss on your lips. Your eyes widened when he turned away, tugging his t-shirt back over his head.

It was all too domesticated, too natural. You were acting like an established couple, not two people who would go their separate ways after leaving the hotel room. But despite knowing that, every touch and every kiss had you melting into Harry a little more.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts and distract yourself before you concocted a reality in which you could live happily ever after with Harry by your side.

You decided to preoccupy yourself with getting cleaned up as soon as you heard the door swing shut, scrubbing your body and any leftover makeup from your face.

You stepped out the bath, wrapping yourself in the one clean towel neither of you had ruined, when your phone buzzed from the windowsill.

courtney: hows it going? you ok ? X

y/n: had more orgasms today than I’ve had in my life.

courtney: 🍆? 😉

y/n: tell you everything later. Love u xx

You threw your phone in the general direction of the bed, smirking to yourself. You knew you shouldn’t tell Courtney everything, but Harry must’ve known that was a given before he fucked you the way he had.

Your reflection caught your eye in the mirror as you hung the towel back up, the girl staring back at you glowing. You hated that this was the happiest you’d been in a long time, and you hated knowing that all of that would be stripped away not even twenty four hours later. But you’d already told yourself time and time again not to dwell on it now, promising yourself as much sadness as you needed the second you got home. You had a funny feeling that Illicit Affairs might be the only song you’d listen to for a few weeks.

It was only as you stared at yourself that you noticed the familiar discomfort that came with wearing your contacts for too long. Your eyes were begging for relief, but you felt suddenly shy about wearing your glasses in front of Harry. He’d definitely seen you wearing them before, but you could never be sure how much he’d noticed you before.

You sighed, blinking a few times before plucking both lenses from your eyes and dropping them into the bin.

It was only as you padded towards the bed that you realised that your ‘good’ glasses were in your bag. With your clean clothes. In the backseat of Harry’s car. You found your purse, pulling out your spare glasses with a groan. They were your huge, thick, never-wear-in-front-of-anyone-else, emergency pair. Definitely not the pair you wanted Harry to see you in.

You ran your fingers along the arm with a grumble, pushing them onto your nose. Any glasses were better than Harry coming back to find you naked and blind. Perching on the edge of the bed, you messaged Harry to remind him to bring the bags up when he got back to the room.

It was only a few minutes later that you heard his keycard in the door and he came to your rescue, with two pizza boxes balanced in his hand and both bags slung over his shoulders.

“This is a nice surprise,” he grinned, setting the pizzas and bags down next to you. You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head away from him slightly.

“My clothes and good glasses are in my bag,” you mumbled, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“And why is that a bad thing?” he asked, kicking his shoes off before sitting down next to you. His palm found your cheek, turning your head back towards him. “You are naked and adorable. I wouldn’t have bothered with the bags if I’d known.”

“You are incredible. I have no idea what happened with your generation’s self esteem. Seriously,” Harry told you, holding your head up with two fingers under your chin.

He studied your face for a minute before pushing you down, knocking the pizzas out of the way with a muttered “oops.”

Harry angled himself slightly above you, cupping your face in both hands. He pressed tender kisses to your forehead, nose and the corners of your lips, before moving down your neck, kissing along your throat and collarbone.

His mouth continued down, his lips wrapping around your nipple as his hand found the other breast, giving them both some attention before swapping. And then he followed that same trail upwards, pausing to kiss and nibble at your ear.

“Think you’re the most beautiful girl in world,” he whispered, suckling on the skin just below your ear. “You are to me.”

You turned your head until your nose brushed against his, eyes soft as you stare back at him.

“What do you need, princess?” Harry asked, his voice low as you fumbled with his belt buckle.

“Just want to be close to you, H,” you whispered, clawing at his slacks with impatience.

He pushed your hair out of your eyes before standing to remove his clothes, stroking his cock a few times as it sprung out of his boxers. His eyes were on you as he touched himself, a sight you knew would flash behind your eyes every time you reached into your panties.

“Come here,” he told you, moving backwards on the bed until his back met the headboard.

You climbed onto his lap, any tension in your body melting away as you settled over his cock. “We used all the condoms earlier,” Harry whispered, wrapping a hand around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied. “Just needed to feel you.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, rubbing circles around the dimples on your lower back. You nodded, running your fingers through his curls. “Lift up a second, kitten,” he whispered, holding his free hand under the curve of your ass as you raised your hips.

He lined himself up with your entrance, biting down on his lower lip as he eased you back down, feeling you for the first time with no barrier.

You let out a moan you didn’t even know you’d been holding, the sensation of him deep inside you, filling you up, exactly what you’d needed.

“Better now, princess?” Harry cooed, running his hand along your hips. You nodded, reaching for the pizza box. “Better.”

—

“I’m away for the next two days,” Harry told you, tangling his fingers with yours. “Got a teaching conference.”

“Do you think it’ll be hard to go back to normal?” you asked, totally disregarding what he’d said.

“Yes,” Harry answered, without so much as skipping a beat. “But I think it will only be so difficult because we have to keep seeing each other.”

You let out a dejected sigh, running your thumb across the back of his hand. “Yeah.”

“So you should spend the next two days practicing some self restraint,” Harry teased, looking over at you with that same, goofy, familiar grin.

“You are the serial toucher,” you laughed, tugging your hand away from his to swat at his chest.

“You just touched me.”

“I hit you.”

Harry snatched your hand back, chuckling before you settled into silence. Your gaze shifted to the view outside your window, familiar buildings and street signs coming into view as you drove closer to home. You weren’t ready to carry on with the life you had before Harry, his presence making everything somehow brighter.

“What’s your girlfriend doing tonight?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Ask your roommate. She’s probably at yours,” you smirked.

“She’s always at mine,” Harry groaned. “Do you want to pick her up before I drop you home? I assume you’ll need to gossip,” he teased.

You shook your head softly, eyes dropping to where your hands sat intertwined. “No, it’s okay. I’ll see her tomorrow.”

You had a date with a book, a pint of ice cream and a potential cry lined up for when you got home. You weren’t ready to share your weekend with Courtney, needing to keep it sacred just a while longer. It was the only thing you had that was only yours and Harry’s for now.

—

You approached Harry’s office door, reaching for the doorknob with a tentative hand. You shouldn’t have been there and you knew it, but with a question from his earlier lecture and a burning desire to just see him, you pushed the door open.

You barely knew how to act around him after your weekend. He hadn’t met your eye in class, purposely avoiding your gaze when he passed you in the hall. You’d waited two days to speak to him, which was nothing. But it was two days of drafting and deleting nonsense texts, trying to come up with excuses to see Courtney at his in case he was there, pulling on his t-shirt before you touched yourself so it would feel like he was with you. You were completely, utterly addicted to him.

Harry’s eyes lit up the moment turned around and saw you, a genuine smile spreading across his face. The room had felt different without you, the monotony of grading and the cold glow of his laptop screen somehow duller and more lifeless than he remembered.

He gestured towards the empty seat, dropping the pile of books he was carrying onto the desk. “I won’t be long,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Just had a question about today’s lecture.”

Harry leaned against the wooden edge of his desk, watching you as you flipped through your notes. He couldn’t help noticing how much warmth you brought into his office, how relieved he was to be alone with you.

“How are you?” he asked finally, cutting through the silence.

“M’okay. Just trying to actually focus on my degree now,” you smiled, heart pounding as you eased into conversation. “Decided to tutor a couple of other students.”

“Your professor would be proud,” Harry grinned, running a hand through his curls. You returned his smile, your notebook falling to your side as you edged just a few inches closer. The tension felt thick, too many unspoken words to fit into one short conversation. But Harry's gaze was soft as he looked over you, an intensity behind his eyes that made your heart pound against your ribcage. You could see the cogs turning in his head, an internal battle between desire and restraint.

You were thankful for the dimmed lights as a blush crept up your cheeks, stepping closer to Harry as if an invisible force pushed you towards him. Your fingertips brushed his knee, your lips parting slightly as you stared up at him.

You’d somehow expected him to change, to see him today and he wasn’t the same man you’d left behind. But he was no different than the man who’d fucked you, who’d cared for you so tenderly.

In a moment of weakness, Harry leaned in, his hand tangling into your hair as his lips found yours. It was gentle yet urgent, filled with all the emotions he had been holding back. You pulled him closer, your notes forgotten as they dropped to the floor, your fingers wrapping around his collar. For a few fleeting seconds, you were almost transported back in time, reality shifting into a parallel where this was natural and normal.

But Harry suddenly pulled away, his breath ragged, his expression conflicted. "We can't," he whispered, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. "I'm sorry, kitten.”

Your heart ached at the loss of his touch, leaning forward to chase his kiss. But Harry’s hand fell from you as he took a step back, his eyes glued to the floor.

The silence that followed was heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid. Harry turned away, leaving you standing there, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on your lips, and the cold realization of his withdrawal settling in.

Your heart plummeted as Harry's words echoed in your ears. You trailed a finger along your lower lip, trying to soothe the sting of rejection. You felt exposed, your mind racing with self-doubt, wondering if you had misread everything. If you had been foolish to think there was something more.

You backed away from Harry, tears of hurt and embarrassment stinging at your eyes. He was silent, frozen as he watched you walk away. The second the door closed behind you, his gaze dropped to your notes on the ground, his fist slamming into the desk behind him.

—

Harry slumped over the breakfast bar, his head in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to have gone this way, and he thought he knew better. He had decided to stay away from you, and he’d broken that promise to himself. He was supposed to keep his distance. You were nothing short of irresistible to him, and he knew the second he was alone with you he’d cross boundaries. And that was exactly what he’d done.

“Just talk to her,” Courtney told him from across the kitchen. Trapped in his inner turmoil, he hadn’t even noticed her in the room.

“Remember I’m still your professor,” Harry grumbled, eyes still focused on the grainy marble under him.

She shookher head, groaning as she swiped the untouched slice of toast from his plate. He lifted his head to look at her, hoping his expression would convey how little he wanted to get into a conversation about you. Courtney raised her eyebrows as she backed out of the room, eyes still on Harry. “You’re not the only one who’s in a strop, you know.”

“You’re also in my house,” he called after her, running a hand through his hair.

You hadn’t told Courtney about that afternoon yet. Harry knew Courtney was feisty before she became his second roommate, and he was certain that she’d make no attempt to hide her feelings towards him if she knew how he’d rejected you. Either you were too embarrassed to even mention it, or there was still a chance for Harry to turn things around. He may have been a man in a pit of despair, but he chose to take it as a sign.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his keys and left. He didn’t even know what his plan was, or what he was signing himself up for by going to see you. But twenty minutes later he was pulling up outside your apartment, hoping you’d be home and praying you would be willing to hear him out.

Your windows were open and a light was on, so he was over the first hurdle.

He was almost at your doorstep when he heard it. The little uncertain giggles that exploded into laughter. It was his favourite sound, and until then, he’d foolishly assumed it was reserved for him. But there was someone else in your flat, someone else making you laugh the way he did.

He backed away from the door, leaning up against his car to try and get a glimpse of who was inside. He couldn’t see anyone, even craning his neck and stretching onto his tiptoes was hopeless. He turned around, clenching his fists as his jaw tightened. He was about to get back into his car when he heard the second voice, a husky male voice. He couldn’t hear what he said, but he didn’t need to. There was another man in your room, another man making you laugh the way he had. And you were happy. Not backing away from him in tears, with hurt and embarrassment written all over your face.

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t the man who got cheated on, but you weren’t cheating on him. He’d ended it. You weren’t his, and you had every right to be with someone else. But that didn’t make it feel any better.

He should never have put you in a position where you could be anyone else’s. His mind was racing, thoughts of you tangled up in your bedsheets with him, that voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear, hands that didn’t belong to him trailing over the bruises Harry had left on your skin.

“Fuck,” he shouted, his fist flying out to make contact with his wing mirror. He should have just fucking kissed you properly. He should’ve found a way to make it work, but he hadn’t. He was a coward, pushing you into the arms of another man just so he could protect his fucking reputation.

He was half prepared to march back to your door, to charge in and reclaim what he’d lost. But he knew he wasn’t acting or thinking like someone you’d want around, so he got back into his car and left, heading for nowhere.

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[callmegaith]

Updated my G-man according to feedback

Drew Otis for a request too c:

And made my own Resistance oc

You can call him Pete. He's stationed in an outpost that Gordon never passed, in fact all he knows about Gordon is from over the radio and Resistance members chatter. He has a Walkman that is his most prized possession and keeps him sane in these hard times. Not sure what I Wanna do with him yet I just really wanted to draw some Resistance members lol.

[deerspherestudios]

so about mind reader mycheal (if we get to ask more about him that is) how would he react to an mc who doesn't think something rude when they first see him but rather they are fascinated or find him cute?

For context! Funnily enough I think MR!Mychael would be even more suspicious of you than anyone else he's met hahaha. He'd think he misread your thoughts like being on the wrong radio station or something.

What ends up happening is he pays even closer attention to your thoughts and when it happens again he's just ???? the entire time. Cue feedback loop of him digging around your brain saying all these nice things about him and that's probably where the attachment begins.

[kernom]

bAkI; This reminds me of what my home area looked like! Lots of foilage here and there, grass carpeting everywhere… the sky was visible but man there are still lots of trees too……

[bookishscrolls]

How to Build and Manage a Community-Centric Program Schedule for Your Community Radio Station

Creating a program schedule for your Community Radio Station (CRS) is like curating a reading list for a book club—it needs to be engaging, varied, and reflective of the interests of your members. For a CRS, your “members” are your community, and building a schedule that captures their attention and sustains their interest is key to success. A well-crafted program schedule doesn’t just ensure…

[lyn31]

Zayne Immediate Disorder (Extended)

Summary:

After the Prison Warden, Zayne, of Linkon City help you get away from the prison, yes indeed, what a mess. You thought he'll do the same not long after you get out, oh but how wrong you are... He has different plans in mind.

Ao3 link

Extra/Part 2

CW: Drug use (Frenzy Enhancer), Light dom/sub.

Notes:

Disclaimer: The first half on this fics are mainly from Zayne's new card, Immediate Disorder, which another reason why it's so long.... and I also use some of the line here and there to match the "canon" a bit more but the rest are all mine :) So if you don't want to get spoiler, even when it's not all here, better read his story first, but if you don't mind, go ahead and enjoy! And I would like to thank all my friend for helping me with feedback, I appreciate it very much! :D Shout out to @ccelestara You help me a lot girl!

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

Your flight is delayed until this evening. Thanks to the delay, you receive a call from your ex-subordinate. It’s about the Warden.

All of Linkon is in an uproar because of it.

The Warden, Zayne, is the SSS-Class Praedator, Galen—the serial killer authorities have been pursuing for years.

As the perpetrator was responsible for multiple deaths, Zayne’s trial will take place with all of Linkon watching. A new era is on the horizon, and his execution will mark its beginning.

Why would a serial killer, whom they couldn’t catch for five years, only be exposed now? Unless… You pause, lost in thought.

You take a sharp breath, suddenly struck by a realization you don’t like. Inhaling deeply, you leave your home, slamming the door behind you with more force than intended. Your pace quickens until you break into a run.

You need to see Zayne one last time. You need to hear the truth from him. You need to know—can he truly end everything without regret?

And then without you realizing it, you arrive.

Though no longer an enforcer, flashing your old badge is enough to get you past the unsuspecting guards. You navigate the prison’s corridors along a path you’ve walked countless times before. You make your way to the second floor.

Zayne has shut himself away in the interrogation room—the very same room where the two of you once said your goodbyes.

You push the door open, and there he is—the familiar figure you haven’t seen in a long time.

Hearing you enter, he turns around. His hazel eyes widen for a brief second before settling back into their usual calm gaze.

“I recall you saying you’d be on a plane this morning.”

Holding back a snort, you say, “So you deliberately waited until this evening to release the news. That way, I wouldn’t find out?”

“Your presence here means my plan has failed.”

“Your plan?” Your throat tightens. Your fists clench so tightly that they start to hurt.

“You never intended to survive this. You’ve been planning to end it all… including yourself.”

Looking at you quietly, he says. “Every TV channel, newspaper, and radio station are announcing it. A new era will arrive with the next dawn. Linkon is finally on the right path. The murders and crimes of the past must be erased.”

Zayne shifts his gaze to the side before looking back at you.

“I thought you, as an enforcer, would understand that criminals must be punished for their past deeds.”

Your chest tightens for a brief moment before you speak, your voice steady but weighed down. “The criminal has been punished. The Praedators and ordinary people get to live in peace. Linkon City will enter a new era. But what about you?”

Without waiting for his answer, you take a step closer.

“Zayne, have you gained anything from this?”

Another step. Your fists clench tighter, your breathing grows unsteady. The faint space between you disappears, and your shadow bleeds into his.

“Don’t you want anything in this life? Stop talking about Linkon, the virus, and the solution. I want to know about you, Zayne. Have you ever wanted anything for yourself?”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Zayne watches you for a moment. His voice lowers. “Are you here just to ask me that question?”

You take another step. Now, you’re so close you can practically feel his breath on your skin.

“What if I said yes? Would you answer me then?”

Just as you reach for him, he flinches. A groan escapes him, and his brows furrow.

“You should go,” he says breathlessly, avoiding your gaze.

“No, I won’t leave until you answer me. But Zayne… are you?”

You reach out again, this time feeling the heat of his skin before he pulls away.

He’s  about to go into a frenzy.

“I told you, you should go.” Zayne’s breathing grows ragged. His chest rises and falls rapidly, rattling the chains around his clothes.

“No. I refuse.” You turn toward the door and lock it.

Walking back to him, you scan the room. The interrogation tools from your last visit are still here—including the muzzles and chains.

“They say that when a Praedator goes into a frenzy, the desire to have what they truly want overwhelms them.”

Stepping closer, you ask, “Zayne, have you ever gone into a frenzy before?”

“No.”

He starts to take a step back but stops, steadying his breath. He looks at you. “I know how to control myself.”

“You implanted an activator in yourself, didn’t you?”

At this, his brows furrow slightly—his frustration breaking through his usual stoic expression.

“But that doesn’t mean a Praedator like me won’t harm the person standing in front of them.”

“I won’t become a Praedator.”

“You’ll die.”

“You already ‘killed’ me once before.” The corner of your mouth curls up. “You accused me of trying to assassinate the Warden. I never got the chance to see if I actually could.”

As you speak, you grab a chain from the wall.

"Do you always have to restrain yourself?" You wrap the chain around his wrist.

He scoffs. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"No. At least, that's not what I want right now."

Zayne point out with his gaze at the muzzle on the wall. You take the muzzle and carefully secure it around Zayne’s head. He doesn’t resist.

You hesitate for a moment, watching him. He allows you to restrain him without a fight. A strange feeling settles in your chest—confusion, concern. Why is he letting this happen? That’s what you instinctively think, but you know the answer already.

Then without a word, Zayne grabs another chain and hands it to you. His gaze sharpens, and his breathing grows ragged.

Fastening the chain around his wrist, you hear his low, breathless voice. "If you’re trying to break someone’s chains… don’t be afraid of the danger they’ll bring." Even in this situation, you can still hear his teasing tone.

Trailing your finger from his wrist to his chest, you push him back toward the interrogation chair.

"Wasn’t I supposed to die here anyway?" You smirk hearing your own question.

Near the chair, on a small table, something shiny catches your eye, reflecting the faint light that manages to seep into the closed-off interrogation room. You head toward the table and just miss when Zayne tries to grab you. You push him back down before continuing toward the table.

"You should leave while you still can," He warns, his voice low and more breathless than before.

You pick up the syringe filled with orange liquid from the table—the Frenzy Enhancer and you walk back toward the chair. Zayne’s intense gaze follows your every move.

"You’re only going to hurt yourself more by fighting to stay in control, you know."

Slowly, you place a hand on his shoulder. He shudders under your touch as you trace your fingers from the leather strap on his shoulder to the choker around his neck. Then, with a swift motion, you grab his jaw, forcing his head back to expose more of his neck.

He groans, his eyes flicking to the syringe in your hand.

"…Frenzy Enhancer? You’re going to use that on me?" He scoffs, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, laced with something unreadable.

"Yes. The Warden should be well aware of how it affects the Praedators."

The corner of his lips curls up. He doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement now. His gaze dares you, challenges you.

Without hesitation, you sink the needle into his heated skin, injecting the drug. He groans, and his breathing quickens even more than before. His skin burns even hotter beneath your fingers.

As you step back to give him some breathing room, you say, "Stop holding yourself back. You need to confront your true self."

His breathing grows heavier, each inhale pressing harder against the leather strap bound across his chest. The belt creaks under the pressure, groaning, straining to contain something unstoppable.

His muscles flex, his body straining against the restraint. His breath turns into low, guttural sounds, his entire frame trembling with suppressed force.

Then—a sharp snap.

The leather gives way, splitting apart as his chest heaves forward. The torn strap dangles uselessly at his sides, his breath ragged and uneven. His gaze lifts to you—dark, unrestrained, filled with something dangerous.

Involuntarily, you swallow hard. Slowly, you walk to his other side. His eyes follow your every move, scanning you like a predator sizing up his prey. His gaze sweeps over you—sharp, deliberate, assessing every detail. You meet his eyes, and in that moment, you know.

Taking a bold step directly in front of him, you place your hand on his thigh and kneel right in front of him, your fingers tightening just slightly as you quickly spread his legs apart. His breath hitches, a low gasp slipping past his lips, his chest heaving harder.

"Don’t worry…" you say, your voice calm yet full of intent, "I’ll take good care of you."

His eyes darken, his smirk widening, full of danger and amusement.

"You want me to submit…"

Before you can move, you hear the chains rattle; the sound growing louder as his hand shoots out, gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lap. The sudden shift in position takes you by surprise, and you gasp, your breath hitching in your throat. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "Let me take what I desire first."

The air shifts—sudden, electric. Then his lips crash into yours with fierce urgency, stealing any coherent thought you might’ve had. You freeze for a split second, your heart hammering in your chest as his breath mingles with yours. The heat from his body sears through the thin fabric between you, making you shiver. His fingers dig into your sides, possessive and firm, as he deepens the kiss, pressing you against him with a force that leaves no space between you.

A soft moan escapes you before you can stop it, and it seems to only spur him on. His teeth graze your bottom lip, the sting making your body react before your mind has time to process. The pull of his kiss shifts from desperate to coaxing, urging you to match his intensity. You reach up, your hand slipping into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling him closer, desperate for more. The urgency inside you flares, a sharp need that only grows as he deepens the kiss. You’re not sure where he ends and you begin—every nerve in your body is alive, and it's all him.

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging lightly, sending a different bolt of electricity straight down your spine, and you can feel your whole body arch into him, your chest tight with anticipation. Every touch, every pull seems to unlock something inside you, the heat pooling in your stomach, burning, aching for more. You don’t want to stop, don’t want to pull away.

The kiss is messy and consuming, like he’s starved for it, and you feel that hunger mirroring your own. His tongue sweeps past your lips, claiming everything he wants, but it's not just him—you're just as lost, just as hungry for him. Every breath you take is laced with desire, every beat of your heart screaming for more, and yet, you’re caught in a whirlwind of want, unable to think, unable to pull away.

When he pulls back, his lips hover close, and you can see a wildness in his eyes, filled with raw desire. His voice is barely a whisper, but carries an edge that sends a shiver down your spine. "You should’ve known... submission can be dangerous."

Your pulse is still racing, your breath uneven, and your body tingles with the lingering heat of his touch. You place your hand on his bare chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall beneath your palm, matching the frantic beat of your heart. The raw intensity of his gaze makes your insides tighten with anticipation, a strange mix of fear and longing that twists deep inside you. Then, instinctively, your hand slides up his forearm, fingers grazing the firm muscle, needing to ground yourself.

“Where’s your Activator?” you ask, your voice a little breathless. You try to steady yourself, but it betrays the rush of desire coursing through you.

The moment the words leave your mouth, you catch the glimmer of a smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips, a knowing, teasing expression that sends a jolt through your chest. With a ragged breath, he leans in closer, and before you can react, he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand back to his chest, pressing it against him with an urgency that makes your heart race even faster.

“Why don’t you… touch me and find out?” he murmurs, the words carrying an invitation—and a challenge—that makes everything inside you tighten in hunger. The electricity between you crackles yet again as if he knows just how much you’re aching for him, how much you want to feel him under your fingertips.

Without missing a beat, you move your hand, slowly at first, tracing the curve of his collarbone, your fingers grazing his skin as you feel him tense under your touch. The air between you thickens with the tension. You follow the path down his chest, lingering on his abs as a soft groan escapes him, the sound igniting a pulse of heat between your legs. You catch his gaze, locking onto it, and the rawness of his desire fuels the embers of your own. Your pulse races, your body aching to feel more of him, but you hold the moment—enjoying the power of teasing him just as much as he teases you.

He breathes out in frustration, his voice a low rasp. “You’re teasing me… It’s still not enough…”

So you don’t stop. Your hand keeps moving, creeping below his waistband, your fingers brushing ever so lightly against the growing heat beneath his pants. His breath catches, and your lips curl into a soft, teasing smile. As you raise an eyebrow, you sense the tension shift in him, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, a silent challenge in his eyes, before leaning in, his lips brushing your ear as his breath sends a shiver through you.

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his kisses trail down your jaw, down your neck—his lips warm against your skin. Every touch, every kiss from him yet again sends that jolts of electricity that you start to familiar with yet still very exhilarating, making you want him even more. And yet, when your hand continues its descent, feeling the evidence of his desire, growing more demanding beneath your touch, you know he feels the same way as you.

A low groan escapes him when his lips move to your earlobe, nipping it just enough to make your body tremble. You almost lose your focus, distracted by the sensation, but your hand keeps moving. Your fingers graze lower, slowly, but with purpose, pressing against him just enough to make him gasp.

His hand grabs your chin, tilting it upward, and his lips hover over yours for a brief, teasing moment before he nibbles your bottom lip. He pulls back slightly, and his gaze darkens with amusement. “What will you do next?”

Oh you know what you'll do next. With a quick, decisive motion, you push him back, watching the way he almost falls against the chair's backrest. The glint in his eyes tells you he enjoys the challenge just as much as you do, and you feel a surge of excitement at the thought of making him wait.

Your hand moves swiftly from his chest to his waist, fingers finding the firmness of him between his legs. The sudden contact makes him shudder, and you smile as his eyes glaze over, fixating on your chest. Before he can lean in, you push him back again, your other hand placed firmly on his chest, eyes locking with his, silently telling him to wait for his turn.

The moment you break eye contact, a rush of heat floods through your body. No matter how hard you try to play it cool, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that you’re perched on his lap. The heat between your legs only grows hotter, and you have to fight the urge to grind against him. You try to regain control—at least to mask your reaction—locking your gaze with his once more. His want is undeniable, simmering in the charged air between you, and the thrill of holding onto even a sliver of control sends a surge of adrenaline through your veins.

You keep your hand on his chest, fingers brushing over his skin, sending small shocks of electricity through him. You don’t break eye contact. Every small movement, every slight press of your hand on his chest makes the tension grow thick and suffocating, but you relish in it—holding him at bay just a little longer. You feel the control shift, your power growing with each moment you keep him waiting.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you press your palm against him, feeling the heat radiating through his clothes. Slowly, you begin to move your hand, applying enough pressure to tease, but not enough to satisfy. His breathing sharpens, chest rising and falling beneath your touch as he tries to keep his composure.

“Do you like that, Zayne?” you whisper, glancing up at him. His response is a ragged exhale, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the armrest.

You keep the slow rhythm, dragging your hand up and down, making him twitch under your touch with every stroke. Each pass, each movement makes him shudder, even so, you hold back, savoring the power of the moment.

You pull your hand back, the sudden absence making Zayne’s gaze snap to you, his eyes burning with need. You feel the tension in the air shift yet again, but you don’t give him the release he craves. Instead, you grab his choker, tugging him closer. His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. For a brief moment, your gazes lock, tension crackling between you like a live wire. His jaw tightens, and his fingers flex as he tilts his head, silently inviting you to continue.

“You want to break it, don’t you?” Zayne’s voice is breathless, a dare in every word. The challenge hangs between you, a crackling tension that sets every nerve in your body alight with excitement.

You push him back with deliberate force, watching as he leans fully into the chair. The satisfaction of making him wait, of holding the control, sends a rush of heat through you. The choker snaps free in your hand, and you stare at it for a beat, your heart pounding as the moment stretches out. Without a word, you toss it aside. The silence between you deepens, thick and charged with raw tension.

“Patience,” you murmur, your voice low and commanding, each syllable deliberate. Your fingers work the muzzle loose, and as it falls away, he just stares at you—breath ragged, eyes wild with hunger. A mix of nerves and excitement coils in your stomach, sharper than you expected. Even though it’s an open muzzle, seeing him without it now sends a thrill through you.

A slow smirk curves your lips. “Much better.”

He exhales a shaky breath, a grin tugging at his lips. “Impressive,” he says, his voice rough with both admiration and something darker.

“But it’s my turn,” he grunts, the words thick with intent. His grip tightens as he surges forward, claiming the moment with a desperate intensity that steals the air from your lungs.

Before you can react, Zayne’s lips are on yours again, urgent, but this kiss is slower, deliberate—a demand as much as a plea. His lips trail down your jaw, your neck, the curve of your collarbone, every touch igniting a new wave of heat inside you. His tongue flicks against your skin, teasing and tasting, before his teeth follow, nipping just hard enough to make you gasp, your body instinctively arching into him as your hips grind against his thigh in reflex, finally. A low grunt rumbles in his chest, his grip tightening on your waist, urging you to do it again. Heat floods through you, a shuddering breath escaping as the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you.

His hand finds your wrists, yanking them behind your back with swift ease, and you gasp at the sudden restraint. The vulnerability of it, the way he controls you without hesitation, sends a sharp thrill racing down your spine. His grip tightens, holding both your wrists effortlessly with one hand, while his other settles firmly on your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he keeps you locked in place.

His eyes lock onto yours, dark and commanding, as he urges your hips to move again, guiding you with slow, deliberate pressure. "Just like that," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. A shiver courses through you, each roll of your hips sending a rush of heat that leaves you breathless, your body tightening in response to his touch.

Zayne’s mouth is relentless, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses just above your exposed skin, his tongue flicking over the fabric of your shirt, tracing slow, deliberate circles. You shudder, your body reacting, but he refuses to give you what you want. His grip on your wrist behind your back remains firm, the restraint heightening every sensation, making your pulse race even faster. Every near-miss, every brush against your skin makes your body ache with want—his refusal only fuels your desire, making you want to push back against him, to make him feel the same urgency you do.

Then, at last, his lips close around your hardened peak, sucking gently at first, then harder. His teeth graze you, sending a sharp pulse of pleasure straight to your core. You cry out softly, your body trembling in his lap, your wrists straining against his grip, the rawness of the moment pushing you closer to the edge.

Your soft cry draws a ragged groan from Zayne, his breath unsteady, his grip tightening as he struggles to maintain control. But it’s slipping—you feel it in the tremble of his hand on your wrist, in the roughness of his kisses, in the ferocity of his desire.

And then, as if he can’t hold back any longer, Zayne snaps. The hand on your waist jerks away, his fingers wrapping around the chain on his wrist with a brutal tug. The metal gives way with a harsh, violent snap, fragments scattering beside you, the sound almost deafening. His hand is back on you instantly, roaming over your waist with an urgent, almost frantic need that sends a shiver through your entire body. Everything shifts. His control is shattered, his restraint gone, and in that instant, all that’s left is the hunger that burns between you.

His gaze burns into you, intense and untamed, his breath uneven as he draws you between his legs. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking you closer, while the other seizes your waist, guiding you down to the floor with a force that leaves no room for resistance. The raw urgency in his movements, the primal need that drives him now, sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you. Even in the moment's chaos, there’s a flicker of control—just enough to ensure you’re steady beneath him, but it’s the kind of control that makes your pulse race, knowing he’s ready to push you past any limits.

His voice drops, low and thick with heat, as his eyes lock onto yours. “Now, there’s only one thing left to do.” His voice is ragged, barely restrained, each word tumbling out like a need he can no longer contain, sending a shiver straight through you. His gaze never wavers, his intensity pressing down on you like a weight, leaving you breathless and craving what comes next.

For a moment, you do nothing but stare back at him, breath catching in your throat as you feel the weight of his gaze. It’s a challenge, a silent command—and you can feel your body respond to it, every nerve alive with anticipation.

You swallow hard, your eyes dropping to his waist. “So that’s where the Activator is…” you murmur, the words are soft but thick with meaning. Zayne follows your gaze, then drags his eyes back up to your face, to your body, his gaze darkening as he notices the hardened peak beneath your shirt.

Without hesitation, he leans down, capturing it with his mouth. His tongue twirls around you, his lips warm and demanding, making you gasp at the sensation. Your body writhes beneath him, your heart pounding in time with the pulse of need that rises in you.

But you don’t forget what you’re about to do. Your pulse quickens as you shift your knee, pressing just above his waist, feeling the twitch of his body against yours. His breath hitches, muscles flexing beneath your touch, and despite the flutter of nerves in your chest, you smile at his reaction, fully aware of the effect you’re having on him. The tension thickens, the unspoken challenge between you both only growing stronger.

You let your foot graze lower, brushing against his arousal in a teasing move that has him groaning, his grip on you tightening just a fraction as he fights to keep control. The moment his eyes snap open, wild and raw, you know it’s only a matter of time before both of you lose yourselves completely in the overwhelming tension between you.

His breath catches, a deep grunt rumbling from his chest, and his eyes flash with an intensity that makes your body ache with need. “Become my prisoner… or my master,” he says, voice low and deliberate. Each word tastes of a challenge, an invitation—and you feel every ounce of it.

The wicked smile that curls on your lips matches his as you reach up, wrapping your hand around his neck, and pulling him closer. The heat of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and the connection between you becomes even more undeniable, more electric.

“You can never… leave me,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unsteady as his lips brush over yours.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The pressure between you—too much, too overwhelming after everything that’s led to this moment—pushes you both into something more. The kiss deepens, urgent and desperate, a clash of lips and tongues as you both crave the release that’s been building.

His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, his body molding to yours as your mouths crash together again and again, hungry for more. Your hips instinctively grind against him, a steady rhythm driven by raw need, and the weight of his body above you only fuels the urgency. The heat, the tension, the desire—every inch of him presses you against the floor, every movement igniting a fire that spreads through your body.

Zayne’s fingers trail down your spine, gripping your hips harder, holding you in place as he pushes you into him with more force, guiding your grinding motion with growing urgency. You can feel the heat radiating between you, the pulse of desire making every second more intense than the last, every touch heightening the ache that has taken over you both.

Breathless, Zayne breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. His chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes dark with hunger. His hands move lower, gripping your thighs, guiding you—slow but sure—as his lips find yours again in a kiss that’s fierce and insistent.

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

Winter returns once more.

As you watch the light snow falling outside your window, it dawns on you: another year has passed since you and Zayne last parted ways in that interrogation room.

In the aftermath of that day, you walked away alone. The bitter truth that you couldn’t take him with you… You’d known that all along.

Even when he confessed that you were what he wanted, it wouldn’t have stopped him. Zayne has always been this way. Deep down, you’ve known it from the start.

After moving to this small town, you severed almost all ties with Linkon City. You made a conscious effort to avoid any news about him. You convinced yourself that if you didn’t see anything about him, you wouldn’t think about him anymore.

Then this morning, someone mentioned that a new doctor had opened a small clinic called Akso just a few blocks away. The moment you hear the clinic's name, your thoughts immediately go to a certain vet clinic with the same name—and a familiar doctor who became the prison’s warden. The person you’ve been trying to forget for a year. Zayne.

So, of course, you rush home, snatch your pet turtle from its cozy sunbathing spot, and dash off to Akso.

Arriving at the clinic, you push open the door, breathless from your frantic run. After a year apart, the silhouette you’ve yearned for stands right before you.

He turns to you with his usual calm demeanor. “What is it?” he asks, though the corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly.

Without a second thought, you place your pet turtle on the nearest table and rush toward him, wrapping your arms around him in a crushing hug. Then you pull back just enough to crash your lips against his. Before he can even react, you pull away again, eyes wide, your cheeks burning.

He chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Avoiding his gaze, you scoop up your pet turtle and cough lightly. “Dr. Zayne, I think my pet turtle might be sick. It’s been really lethargic. It doesn’t even want to sunbathe anymore. Can you take a look at it?”

Trying to hide your embarrassment—and your excitement—you straighten your posture and meet his eyes. His amusement is obvious. He’s trying not to laugh.

“Miss, this clinic only treats human patients,” he says, his smirk growing wider.

Your face burns up again. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, mortified...

That’s when you hear his footsteps approach. You open your eyes to find him standing right in front of you, gently taking your hand in his.

Then, something rare—a smile curves on his lips, soft and unguarded. It’s fleeting but real, and you can’t help but mirror it. Your heart skips, and for a second, the tension feels lighter, almost electric. You suppose he’s just as excited as you.

You clear your throat, trying to regain a bit of control. “...I see” His smile grows, contagious and impossible to ignore.

“Well,” you say, this time with more confidence, “I think I’m coming down with something. Would you mind giving me a check-up?”

He holds your gaze, bringing your hand to his lips. “I don’t think this is how I’m supposed to treat my patients.” His voice drops slightly, warm and low, the flicker of desire in his eyes unmistakable.

He steps closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But for you… I might make an exception.”

Your heart races as he pulls back, his smirk sharp and teasing. He releases your hand, turning toward the hallway.

“Follow me, Miss,” he says, the slightest smirk playing at his lips.

As you follow him, your pulse quickening, you realize this is the treatment you’ve been waiting for—especially with Dr. Zayne.

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

Notes:

Pstttt there's another extended of the extended version! here

[kernom]

🥩; hEY give me your TEETH pls… i GIVE to fairy promi wait wdym i gonAhordthem NO IM NTO

teeth dividers || free to use

[newobsessionweekly]

Stolen moments

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You and Tim find it difficult to have some sort of intimacy due to your busy schedules.

A/N: Here's another Tim one that I loved writing. Not really a fluff girl, but I think I wrote something cute. Hope you like it. Don't forget to leave your feedback, it'll help me. Have a great day bubs and lots of love! 🫧

Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread yet, that's it.

Requested: yes Words: 1.8k Requests for Tim are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Being a rookie was intense. The constant struggle to keep yourself out of dangerous situations and, even more important, to manage them and go home safe and sound was exhausting. Gladly, your T.O. was understanding and his open, talkative personality helped you through when things get complicated.

John Nolan was a man that you trusted with your life and you grew closer, being not just your training officer, but a very important friend in your life. When between you and Tim things weren't going smoothly, he is your go to person. Mostly because you appreciate his advices and on the other hand because you're stuck with him every day, him reading you like a book.

You and Tim have been together for a few months now and it was clear as day that you adore that man with every breath. Tim is not far away from that, his love for you reflecting in his eyes, some might say he smiled in the last couple of months more than he ever did in his whole career at the station.

Music from Tim's car echoed through your mind as you embraced that still moment. No more people talking through the radio, no sirens whiling down the streets, no gunshots fired. Just you and Tim, singing along the radio, his hand resting on your lap as he squeezed it from time to time, sending chills down your spine, memories from the last night you'd spent together reddening your cheeks.

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd want to move in." Tim broke the silence as he checked the mirrors, his car making its way to the station. You hummed at his words, considering that. No more squeezing out your schedules, no more running around to see each other. More Tim tests on your time off work.

"I'll think about it. I love staying with Lucy though." you told him as he parked the car.

"Seriously? When's the last time you saw Lucy?" he quietly laughed.

"Yesterday."

"When's the last day you've been to your apartment?"

"Last..." you tried to remember what day it was. "Saturday."

"And now it's Friday." he pointed out the fact that you spent a whole week at his place.

"I'll think about it." you smiled at him, making him do the same as Tim was about to closed the distance between you two.

A loud knock on the window made you jump right before your lips could meet and Tim grinned at the sight of Lucy. "Speaking of the devil." he murmured frustrated under his breath, making you laugh as you went to greet her.

"Y/N, here's the mail from this week. Didn't know when you'd come home so I thought..." you thanked her, stuffing the envelopes in your purse. "Morning, officer Bradford." Lucy greeted Tim and he welcomed her with his grumpy face.

"Officer Chen" he didn't leave your side, hoping your best friend would disappear, but she grabbed your arm, rambling about her date, stealing you away from your boyfriend.

The morning briefing concluded, leaving a hasty window of respite before the day's duties would fully take hold. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself alone with Tim, the magnetic pull between you palpable in the air.

"Hey," your boyfriend murmured, his voice low and husky as he closed the distance between you. "Be safe out there today, okay?"

Seeing Tim so handsome in that uniform, made your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes searching you from head to toe, admiring your beauty and playing a wide smile on his lips. A smile that means sinful thoughts are running in his mind.

His words were a tender caress against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your heart quickened as his hand brushed against yours, the electricity of his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment, jolting you back to reality. You turned to see Nolan standing before you, his expression expectant as he awaited your response.

"Ready for patrol, Y/N?" Nolan's voice cut through the air, breaking the intimate spell that had enveloped you and Tim.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion, and turned to face your TO with a forced smile. "Yes, sir, ready to go."

Nolan glanced between you and Tim, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding as he realized the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "I'll let you two carry on."

But before he could make his escape, Tim's voice cut through the silence, his tone laced with frustration and determination.

"Be careful out there, both of you," Tim said, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and love. "And stay safe."

With a curt nod, Tim turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving you and Nolan standing in the wake of his departure. As you watched Tim disappear from sight, a swell of emotions washed over you—frustration at the interrupted moment, longing for the connection you shared with Tim, and gratitude for his unwavering concern for your safety.

Tim's frustration was touching the ceiling. Both of you had plans that night, leaving him longing for the next time you'd be alone again. A next time tagged with a question mark because of your chaotic lives. He wanted to have you close all the time, to make sure he can protect the woman he loved dearly. But above this excuse, Tim wants you close because he needs you. Every touch and little kiss stolen here and there gives him the strength to carry on with his life, gives him an anchor to hold on when things get messy.

The midday sun beat down on the bustling streets of LA as officers gathered around the street food area for their lunch break.

As you and Tim sat together at the table, the bustling activity around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. Tim's touch was gentle yet possessive as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent declaration of affection.

"You know, Y/N, I think moving in together could be a great step for us," Tim said, his voice soft and tender. "We already spend so much time together anyway, and it would make things so much easier."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch. "I know, Tim. It's just...a big step, you know? I want to make sure we're both ready for it."

Tim's gaze softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he squeezed your hand gently. "Copy that. We'll take things at your pace, okay? No rush."

His touch sent a thrill racing through you, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to the depths of your soul. His thumb traced delicate patterns on the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without a word being spoken.

The connection between you and Tim was electric, a palpable energy that pulsed between you with each passing moment. His gaze was intense, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you inched closer to each other. Just as your lips were about to meet, the voices of your beloved colleagues shattered the moment once more, leaving you both frustrated and longing for more.

"No, I mean is great that Henry is visiting me, don't get me wrong. But I feel like this weekend is going to fly by so fast and the chief already approved my OT for both days and I feel like we won't spend so much time together." Nolan ramble about his son and they sat down beside you and Tim.

"Tell me about it." your boyfriend scoffed as he caressed your thigh, his tone tinged with frustration.

For Tim, each interruption felt like a cruel twist of fate, a barrier preventing him from fully expressing the depth of his love for you. He yearned for the stolen moments, the brief glimpses of intimacy that left him craving more. With each interruption, his frustration grew, a silent plea echoing in his mind for just a few moments alone with you.

"I already spoke with him and he's gonna meet us tonight at the bar" you told John as you savoured the food in front of you.

"But I thought he's coming tomorrow." Nolan frowned and Tim raised his eyebrows at your words. He knew you meet them now and then after shift, but he didn't know that was your plan for tonight, instead of spending it with him.

The constant interruptions felt like a cruel reminder of the obstacles standing between you and Tim. You longed for the stolen kisses and whispered words, moments of intimacy that seemed to slip through your fingers before they could fully blossom. Each interruption left you feeling incomplete, aching for the chance to bask in Tim's presence without the prying eyes of your colleagues.

"Surprise."

As the lunch break drew to a close and the time came for you to return to patrol, Tim's frustration was palpable. He shot you a longing look, his eyes silently pleading for just a few more moments alone together.

He walked you to the shop and when you made sure Nolan was already inside and away from your whispering, you turned to him and intertwined your fingers together.

"So that's the plan you have tonight, huh?" he asked you, clearly not feeling very happy that you chose them over you. He had plans too, watching tonight's game with his friends. Some important game he said, but if it was to choose, he'd rather spend the night with you than watch it.

"Well, they asked me to join after you said you have plans. I thought maybe some time apart from each other would be nice." you admit.

"Some more time apart?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's best if I move in." you told him after Nolan informed you about a call that was just dispatched to you. Tim smiled, softly grabbing your cheeks, finally placing a kiss after long hours of watching you from distance.

"I'll see you tonight, Y/N," Tim said, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you leave. "Be safe out there, okay?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips as you bid him farewell. And as you headed back out onto the streets, the memory of Tim's tender touch and loving gaze lingered in your mind, a reminder of the love that bound you together, even in the face of interruptions and obstacles.

[horreurscopes]

evil white noise machine:

swarm of flies

90s 6-tone car alarm

dial up modem

1 star roadside motel air conditioner

microphone feedback

numbers radio station

hungry cat 1

hungry cat 2

hungry cat 3

hungry cat 4

[fraugwinska]

I swear your stories make my heart skip beats❤️🩷❤️🩷 I need some soft spicy Alastor x Female Reader. Maybe a Morning After scenario with Alastor and the reader (waking up together, being soft and cute. Kisses and stuff and maybe a slight continuation of last night😏😏)

After the last stories I was EAGER to write your request, my dearest @alastor-simp. I've accepted my rank as fluff fairy, and I oh-so-love to write these cute, tender moments!!! Thank you for this ask, I hope I did it justice!

For the best experience, I suggest to listen to Ingrid Michaelson's "Love is', which I imagined the radio to play in the story (and listened to while I wrote it)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

We only have Forever

The birds in hell weren't like anything on earth – their songs were not sweet and melodic, but rather ominous and melancholic.

Which is why, when you were woken by an unusual, bright chirping sound, you thought for a split second you were alive again, waking up from an intense, unusually immersive dream.

You shifted, cheeks still pressed into the white, soft pillow and body messily wrapped in cotton sheets, too drowsy to realize that the chirp was not coming from birds, but the little, vintage radio that sat beside the bed in. It quietly came to life, the search for a channel resulting in high, pitchy squeaks and fuzzy static feedback. Which was always the tell-tale sign of a waking Alastor.

The arm around your waist twitched, causing you to sigh peacefully. Your lids fall close and you let it pull you back into the center of the bed, into a warm, waiting body - a soft chest, thinly covered in silky taupe fur that tickled your nose, an underlying, hearty scent of wood and vetiver and the familiar rhythm of another heart drumming against your ears.

You left your eyes closed, relying on the most comforting senses of touch, hear and feel, the latter came into use as the sensation of sleepy, light kisses on the crown of your head that caused your lips to pull into a blissful smile.

"Mornin' my buck."

"Good morning, my doe."

His voice was nothing more of a mumble, still lazy and half asleep, hoarse and slightly deeper than when up and about. When he finally seemed to have picked a radio station he liked, the room was filled with a soft, dreamy song which suited the very same ambiance that was present - happy, in love, slow, silent bliss. It was one of your favorites, and one of the few more modern ones Alastor tolerated.

He ran his slender fingers up your back and shoulders, through the disheveled masses of hair, stroking it gently with his sharp talons, scratching ever so lightly on the scalp. He pulled himself a little more forward, tangling his legs even more with yours in an effort to maximize the connection of your bodies and minimize the space that span between you.

"Hey, easy now or I'll think you're afraid I'll jump up and leave as soon as my eyes open." you teased playfully, as Alastor nuzzled his nose deep in your hair, taking in deep breaths, inhaling your scent and humming in content.

"I had hoped after all my efforts tonight you wouldn't be able to even if you tried, darling."

You flicked his ear in fake indignation, but chuckled and raked your fingers over his back in soft, tender streaks, your fingertips gliding over his spine and sides. He shivered under your touches and melted deeper into you. A rhythmic, shuffling sound joined in with the faint tune from the radio, and Alastor groaned when you purred in lofty pride.

"Damned, traitorous thing...", Alastor scowled, trying to evade the hand that reached for his wagging tail under the sheets.

"Don't you talk like that about my precious friend.", you cooed and caressed the plush fur on his lower back, scratching with nimble fingers close to the base of his tail, the very spot where he was extremely... responsive. Alastor just growled again, missing any angry or mad edge, his tail continuing to thump louder and even quicker and causing him to whine as he failed to stop its excited sway.

"It betrays me."

"No, it only tells me that you're happy."

Alastor tilts his head to brush his lips over your own, almost not touching, a tiny, bittersweet distance between his and your mouth.

"If it's that much more of a conservationist for you, maybe I should stop talking then."

With a faint, sighed chuckle he finally closed the agonizing gap, lips met lips in a slow and flowing embrace, moving almost at the tempo of the song, it's calming beat guiding the cadence and harmony of his kiss. You felt him smile, more relaxed and at ease that his usual signature grin, even though your eyes were closed shut in drowsiness and enjoyment. The slow, lazy, fullness of this morning's intimacy, of your bodies so closely pressed together in ruffled sheets while hell's sun was only slowly rising on the horizon, making out and embracing each other without the need to rush or be somewhere in another hour or so was a rare occasion and therefore worth savoring.

His hands traveled over your hips, up your waist to settle in a gentle, cradling grip around your neck, fingertips grazing the outer edges of the delicate bite mark still there as a reminder of the contrasting feverish passion you both shared last night. With Alastor - It was war and peace, in a circle - hard, unforgiving, passionate desire at the beginning of dusk, and soft, tender and sensual love at the break of dawn. A clash of burning flames and gentle streams, all on an even ground of equals.

You sensed the slight change in the mood, the licks over your parted lips with the warm tip of his tongue soon turned to be deep and demanding, less lazy and more eager movements from his tongue - exploring the insides of your mouth, playfully flicking yours and circling around and between your teeth. His large hand left it's spot in the crook of your neck and pulled on the base of you head, sinking his digits in the tuft of your hair. You moaned softly into the kiss, more of a wanton, sloppy sound rather than anything else and you started to grow flushed, your skin tingling pleasantly under every touch and lick and nibble.

You deeply enjoyed the roughness and depravity you shared in the nights, you really really did. But this, this was what you loved. It was when Alastor wasn't starved for you, endlessly hungry and hasty to devour you but when you were a well prepped meal, slowly cooked and seasoned with care and love that you felt the most powerful connection of your souls - his touches were careful and secure and when he held you in his arms like this, kissed and adorned you like that, every and any gesture or caress spoke so clearly the sentence he had captured your heart with - you are mine and only mine.

"You are saying an awful lot with that body language for someone who wanted to stop talking, my buck." Alastor laughed fondly at your husky breathed words, rolling you on top of him, sheets sticking to the planes of your bare bodies. You threw a leg over him to sit in a straddling position, your face a mere few inches above his as he rolled his hips and swayed your body against his growing length.

“That's the beauty of a loophole, my doe, for no spoken words could express me quite as honestly as this."

Alastor kissed you once more and, now grinning as devilishly as you were used to, let his hands find rest on your hips, ready to start one more of those heavenly nonverbal conversations before you both had to ready yourselves for the hellish world outside of your bedroom.

Again, thank you for suggesting this. And a big shoutout to @minkdelovely, who made my heart skip with her article on 'Pictures of you'. The fluff fairy had you in mind with this, too ;>)