icetruckprincess

[icetruckprincess]

hi all!!

so sorry for being so mia, life has been so much recently that I've had literally no time to write at all. that being said, i do have chapter 4 planned out now, and plan to start writing it this weekend!

pls stay tuned, and thank u always for the support heheh

love,

cherry ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

hi all!

in the process of writing part four of blood & devotion! i hope u guys enjoyed it and the direction im taking it in :)

in the meantime pls fee free to request anything for brian / dexter hehe

part four coming soon!

-cherry ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

blood & devotion | part three

decription: haunted by memories and unanswered questions,of your night with rudy, you try to move on—until a chilling sense of being watched shatters your calm.

chatper cw: brian moser x f!reader, brian as rudy, manipulation, stalking, canon type violence, implied violence, toxic behavior

wc: 4.7k

part one | part two | part three | part four

please do not steal or copy my work in any way. copyright © icetruckprincess 2025. all rights reserved.

the first thing you noticed was the cold.

not the kind that seeped through the windows or crept under the doors, but the kind that came from an absence of warmth, breath, presence. your hand reached out blindly into the soft dawn. fingers skimming across the sheets, searching for where rudy had been. the space beside you was not just empty, but untouched. as if he'd never really been there at all.

you blinked slowly, the fog of sleep fading in your mind as you tried to piece together the night before. the taste of him still lingered on your lips, the scent of his cologne, cedar and musk—clung faintly to the sheets. your body ached in that pleasant, sore way that came after something so intimate. but rudy was gone.

no note. no message. just a silence that pressed too hard against your chest.

you sat up slowly, pulling your sheets with you, more for the comfort than modesty. your apartment was eerily still, only the distant whir of tires on wet pavement outside filling the emptiness. it had rained sometime in the night.

you put on one of your old sweatshirts and the cold in the air tingled against your skin. the lamp was still on from the night before. it confirmed that last night with rudy hadn’t just been a dream.

it felt like more than just sex. more than charm and banter and maybe a few drinks too many. there was something beneath it all, an invisible pull. you felt it now even, like he took a part of you whenever he left.

you tried to shake the feeling, feeling stupid for even thinking things would be different, but it clung to your skin.

you eventually settled down on your balcony outside. the humid miami air latched onto you, wrapping around like an uncomfortable hug. the rain from the night before made everything soft and gray outside. you pulled out your sketchbook into your lap and let the pencil find its way across the page. you didn’t even know what you were drawing, or planned anything, it was more instinctive and meditative for you.

what formed under your hand surprised you.

fingers. not your own. his.

long, elegant, strong. the same ones that ghosted down your spine and tangled in your hair.

your pencil moved slower now, tracing the knuckles. you couldn’t help but imagine his hands in a different light, such as his tenderness as he caressed your hand with his thumb at the candlelit table.

but yet, there was something else. a tension to the drawing, a shadow in the lines, that you couldn’t even explain what it was or why your drew it.

in the corner of the page you scribbled your thoughts, you couldn’t help it as they were tumbling out of your mind,

he left without a word, but i still feel him. in my skin, in the air. what happened last night, it wasn’t just lust, i know it. and i think he did too. so why did he disappear? why am i even thinking about this? why can’t he leave my mind?

you abruptly closed the sketchbook before you wrote any more. you sighed, and shook your head to yourself. you hated that the words from your head were there in ink. how you let yourself write them down, affirming that you still believed in something soft. that things would be different like you hadn’t learned by now.

you sat there for a bit, hand resting on top of the closed book like it might keep more thoughts from spilling out. you were smarter than this. last night, all the signs were there, a perfect night, a perfect man, and then gone. nothing but silence.

the week passed in fragments.

you went about your life, outwardly unchanged—teaching your art classes, sketching, checking your phone far more than you would like to admit, and visiting on tony. he still wasn’t awake but that didn’t stop you from going. the truth lingered unspoken, you were hoping to see rudy as well.

after all he was tony’s doctor, he should have been there.

but he wasn’t.

when you asked about him, casually, like it didn’t matter, one of the nurses only offered a polite smile and a vague answer, “dr. cooper’s out for a bit.”

that was all that they gave you, no page, no message. no trace of him at all.

you felt foolish and guilty for even asking for someone else while visiting tony, but the air in the hospital felt heavier than ever. the single glimpse of warmth in that sterile place, was gone.

so you stayed by tony’s side, trying to forget how rudy treated you like you weren’t disposable that night. in the way that he touched you, like you weren’t just somebody to pass the time with. like he meant it.

the days continued on to pass on like nothing.

tony’s condition didn’t get better, but didn’t worsen. you drew his eyes, what they would look like if they opened again, his leg, with the lower half missing. you desperately tried to recreate the feeling rudy explained to you about his work. you continued to write about rudy, as you couldn’t help it, shutting it away in your journal for only your eyes to see.

you were told by a nurse that the miami metro were to come as soon as tony woke up—eager to ask questions, of the ice truck killer. to get tony’s statement, to make him relive that horrid time he was captured. tortured. watched. just thinking about it made you shiver, the hair on your arm rose. made you feel like you had eyes on you.

and when the days continued on, that feeling never quite left.

it started with small things. a chill down your spine when walking home from your parked car. the strange moment in the hospital hallway when you turned around, certain someone had been standing behind you—only to find no one. the way your neighbor’s cat hissed at a shadow that wasn’t there.

you brushed it off, told yourself you were just paranoid about tony, and the lingering feelings towards rudy. that it was doing strange things to your perception.

but you couldn’t shake the feeling. especially one evening, after work. the minute you stepped into your apartment, you felt the air shift. it was almost unsaid—just a lingering trace of something familiar. a faint scent of cedar—your heart tugging at the scent. you locked the door behind you and stood still, listening. but nothing.

still, you walked the apartment slowly. nothing seemed out of place, or was missing, but something wasn’t right. you continued to shake it off, and headed for the shower. hot water always helped you clear your head.

steam filled the bathroom, curling around your limbs like a second skin. you stood under the spray, eyes closed, trying to not naturally think of him. rudy. the feel of his mouth on you, the way his voice dipped low when he told you were beautiful.

and then—

a sound.

barely audible. a creak. the faintest brush of something against tile. you froze.

the hot water pounded on your back, but you didn’t move. your ears strained, every muscle tense. a soft thud echoed—like a door closing gently. your breath caught in your throat. you yanked the curtain aside, heart racing. nothing.

the apartment was silent again.

but you swear, you felt someone.

you turned off the water, grabbing the soft blue towel, wrapping it around your wet body, sticking like glue.

wrapped in only a towel, and dripping, you padded through your apartment. you checked every door, every cabinet, every closet. nothing. no one.

you knew someone had been there.

you turned back toward your room, your pulse still fluttering beneath your skin. damp footprints trailed behind you, whispering against the hardwood floor. the air was still wrong like quiet after a scream.

that’s when you saw it. your sketchbook. it wasn’t where you left it. in fact, it was open, a single page fanned out like an accusation.

you blinked, your heart thudding faster. you always had it closed, tucked away, and here it was now exposed, spine stretched, your drawing and handwriting, plainly visible in the dim light.

you stepped closer, towel clutched tight to your chest.

your breath caught again.

it was a page you had just written last night. one you had written about him, this time drawing his eyes. the words and drawing raw and confessional, vulnerable.

someone had read them.

a cold rush swept over your skin that had nothing to do with the water still on you.

your fingers trembled as you reached out and closed it, heart pounding louder than ever.

someone had been here. someone had seen you. not just your body, but your space.

inside of you.

and you couldn’t help but think, of rudy.

down the street, brian sat in his car parked just down the street. his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. he had almost been caught and he is. he had stood in your bedroom only minutes earlier.

he hadn’t meant to go in, just to scope the outside of your apartment, for the next time he planned to continue his plan. but something inside him pulled at his heart, as he saw you undress for the shower. your figure illuminated by the dim light. your silhouette had passed the fogged bathroom glass, and for a moment he’d almost wanted to stay. make himself known to you again.

so he went in.

he moved slowly through your apartment, careful and practiced. and when he entered your bedroom, his eyes found your sketchbookl.

he just couldn’t help himself.

ever since he had seen you drawing in that room, he was curious to see what was inside. what you drew.

he hesitated, his fingertips hovered over the cover. he felt wrong doing it, but then quickly discarded that thought. you weren’t anything to him. so he opened it.

the marks of pencil had smeared slightly, written hastily, emotionally. his jaw tightened, your drawing, he recognized his eyes, and read the words over and over.

this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to feel this way about him, be this affected by him. not about him. he forced himself to breathe. the next line he read, carved more into him than any blade could,

if he knocked on my door again, i’d let him in. god help me, i’d let him back in. let him see me again, in and out. he touched me like he didn’t know if he’d ever get to again.

his pulse roared in his ears. for a moment—just a moment he forgot who he was. forgot what he was.

brian moved before he thought, settling the journal down too quickly. too carelessly.

then, the shuffle of the shower curtain, the sudden terror of being seen.

he slipped out, silent as a breath, the door closing behind him with a gentle click.

but part of him stayed there.

he returned to his car, faster than ever, mind racing.

you had written about him, drawn him.

written details of the night you spent with him, and about how it haunted you in the best and worst ways. how you felt a spark that you couldn’t explain.

the same one that tormented him the whole week he was away from you, was tormenting him now.

he told himself this was about control, curiosity. the kill. he was supposed to be watching you, so he was. all week long. to study your patterns, getting close enough to finish what he started. but everything in that journal of yours, in his head, contradicted the plan. you felt it too—the pull.

brian rested his head against the wheel. he should walk away; this is too much distraction. find another woman to carry out his plan. that’s all that should matter to him. you were supposed to be a piece for his puzzle, another woman he cut up and created art out of. not this.

you were jsut supposed to be a piece of puzzle for dexter. to see his brother. none of these weird feelings in his chest.

this distance he created between you two was to dull the ache. that if he kept you away he’d remember who he was, not who you made him feel like he could be.

he noticed throughout the whole week as he watched you, the slump in your shoulders. the way you looked over your shoulder, almost disappointed that no one was there. like you wanted him to be there, watching you.

he drove back to his place in silence. thoughts stirring, he needed to get these thoughts out of his mind.

a few more days passed as brian convinced himself that was the way to let that connection between you two die. he would meet you as rudy once more, destroy the current.

he would forget you and continue his plan with another woman, another victim. someone who didn’t matter. he needed to kill, to regain control. he still had a plan, one he intended to execute, and he needed to play his part. even if his sense of self was unraveling, everything he once believed in. he knew better than this. the closer he got to you, the harder it would be to pull away, he couldn’t handle another hesitation. he couldn’t afford weakness. so he decided he would visit you again, give you the closure and cut it off. play the part as rudy cooper. not give affection, or warmth. he would talk to you as a stranger would and he would remind you, and himself that you were just a thread in his web.

he didn’t want to give you closure, or himself, but he had to. or that version, the one who felt and ached, felt would win. and brian couldn’t let that version survive.

a couple more days passed as brian convinced himself that was the way to let that connection between you two die.

he would meet you as rudy once more, destroy the current. but little did he know that as soon as he saw you in the hospital the next day, that everything would go out the window.

ever since the night you discovered someone invaded your home, you were barely out of the hospital room. still no sign of rudy. you felt violated, watched, but oddly seen. your mind had been racing, overthinking, wondering if it was really possible to consider that it was rudy. his scent, the shift in the air, it was all the same as how it was when he was physically there. not to mention the notebook, open to the page about him. but it couldn't have been—rudy wouldn't break into your home and stalk you? how could you know, you barely knew him, you told yourself. your thoughts vanished as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, signaling it was time to get off, and to stop thinking of rudy.

in your hands, was small, fruity cake, to celebrate tony being awake. as you walked down the hall, the hospital was unusually loud for once—not with the beeping monitor or urgent code, but with laughter, chatter, and the quiet hum of relief.

as you walked in the room, you were greeted by some family members, miami metro officers, and nurses. the past few days of you quite literally living in the room, gave you some connection. tony was smiling, talking and even cracking a few jokes with the nurses. and even flirting with one officer, debra morgan.

debra introduced herself to eva a couple days before tony woke up. the two of you became a bit more than acquaintances, due to the length of your stay and the conversation you two had. she had long, honey brown hair, and an unfiltered charisma to her. she wasn't polished in the way most women tried to be, but in striking way that made you look twice. confident. loud and magnetic.

ever since tony woke, he was making half-clever comments, crooked grins, and leaning-too-close charms. you and your aunt joked, the first thing he does when he wakes up, is flirt with women. but debra, didn't roll her eyes, or walk away, she bantered with him. she smiled even. sure, she was a cop and wanted to get his statement, hell that's why she was there for two days, but she really seemed like she cared about tony’s experience, had empathy. it warmed your heart.

you took your place near the door to tony's room, arms crossed, posture too stiff to be comfortable. you watched as everyone huddled around tony, giving everyone the space to do so. you couldn't help but look, your eyes in each every corner in the room for all the wrong reasons, searching for him.

you told yourself you were fine, and you were happy, but you were exhausted. sleeping in a chair for a few nights was not comfortable, not to mention the wandering thought of if rudy was the one in your apartment. but you were happy. so happy to see tony.

tony called your name, breaking you from your thoughts, “you look like hell.”

your laugh came out soft and breathless, a poor attempt at being casual, “thanks, i've been going for that.” tony always a tease. you walked closer to him.

“you get any sleep this week?” he asked.

“not really, but don't worry. i'm more worried about you.” you replied.

he frowned, reaching his hand out that still had an IV taped to it. you took it immediately. he whispered so no one else in the room could hear, a private moment between you two, “i'm sorry that i scared you.”

you smirked, “you're not allowed to do that again,” whispering back.

“deal,” he said, his smile gentle. “but seriously… you okay? the nurses told me you’ve been sleeping here the past couple of nights.”

you opened your mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps turned your blood cold. the air shifted, such a familiar feeling. the pull of gravity subtly rerouted. and then you saw him.

rudy.

his silhouette in the doorway, a bouquet of hospital-safe flowers in one hand, that smile—charming, easy in full effect. he walked in with practiced confidence. as if the last week hasn't been a gaping void, as if nothing has happened.

your breath caught in your throat. you hated how handsome he looked. how familiar the night came to your mind. how his eyes found yours immediately through the small crowd of nurses and visitors, locking on like a thread being pulled taut.

you didn’t smile. you couldn’t. your stomach was a riot of nerves, grief and fury.

you watched as he introduced himself around the room, to your family members, the officers, debra, and tony.

your heart pounded. rudy was good. he smiled at debra, joked with tony, blending in like he hasn't disappeared without a word. you turned away before you could see more, before the heat in your chest could burn through the rest of your composure.

but you didn't make it far. a hand, his hand, touched your elbow.

your name left his lips like it was etched there, “…can we talk?”

you didn't look at him. you couldn’t, wanting to keep composure. the two of you blended within the amount of people in the room, but you didn't want anyone to catch on.

“sure” you replied, voice low.

he led you toward his office, where the party faded. when you both entered and he shut the door, you turned sharply, gazing up at him with angry eyes.

“what is this?”

his face widened, as if he didn’t expect you to speak first.

your name flowed off his lips too tender, too familiar, “…look i—”

you couldn’t help but interrupt him, “you left, no like you vanished. i thought something happened.” your voice choked up a bit, and you couldn't help it. you didn’t mean to get upset, but you were. you didn’t know where this confidence to confront him came from, but you needed him to know your pain. you had nothing left to lose.

his voice was low, laced with almost regret, “i know—”

again you stopped him, “i thought i made you up. i thought that night between us was different—I don't know this is stupid.” you felt defeated trying to explain this to him, embarrassed, but little did you know rudy knew exactly how you felt.

brian’s mind was racing. this conversation was supposed to be the closure to get away from her. to cut the thread, burn the bridge and kill the weakness. but watching her spin, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. this should’ve helped him, should’ve reminded him that this was the danger to this, all these unwanted feelings. but all it did was make guilt twist into his stomach.

“i didn’t mean to disappear,” he said, which was a lie, “things got… complicated.”

your eyes narrowed. “complicated? you vanish for over a week—after, after that night and now you just show up here like nothing happened?”

brian looked down, his mask slipping between himself and rudy. his jaw tightened. he didn’t have a lie ready for this part, this conversation was supposed to be his control, not yours.

“i came to see tony,” he offered weakly. you watched as his eyes struggled to stay on you, like he was lying, keeping the truth from you. “to check in, i wanted to introduce myself to him—”

your laugh was short and joyless, “bullshit.”

you were so angry. why show up now? why do this now? why pretend like it meant nothing?

you took a step closer to him, and your voice dropped but the fire stayed in, “if you came here for tony, why are you looking at me like that?”

he blinked. how did you know, how were you reading him now? when did the power shift?

he tried to look away from you but couldn’t. he should’ve walked out, but instead he stepped in too. just a little. just enough to breathe in the air between you and him. just enough to let your scent, lavender, and the memories pull him under again.

“i told myself this was the last time” he murmured before he could stop himself. you caught on.

your brow furrowing, “what?”

“i came here for closure,” he said, his voice softer now. “to see you one last time to make sure i could walk away.” he spoke as if he was surprising himself with each word. and he was. because the truth was already settling into his bones whether he liked it or not. as soon as he heard your voice, as soon as you looked at him like that, hurt, but still wanting answers. he knew. this was not the last time the two of you would see one another.

“then why are you here asking me to talk? why are you still standing here, rudy?” your voice almost a whisper as you gazed up at him. brian’s eyes dropped to your mouth, the same mouth that whispered his name in the dark. that trembled against him. the tension in the room, sexual and physical, was so thick, not even a knife could cut through.

he took a slow breath.

“because i can't seem to forget you,” his words like a confession, as if they were to himself, “even when i try.”

you blinked, your expression softened, not expecting to hear those words from him. your eyes instinctively tearing up. the confession you’ve been waiting to hear all this time. that you weren't the only one that felt this pull. that there was something unexplainable between you two.

“it was you, wasn’t it?” you asked.

his stomach clenched. he forced a confused frown, “what?” he knew exactly what you meant.

your eyes continued to search his, his hesitation bringing you to further explain, “god, i almost wish it was you.”

you watched his eyes widen with your words. that was not what he expected.

you swallowed, “because then maybe it meant that you still cared, maybe it meant that i'm not crazy, for missing someone who vanished like none of it mattered.”'

brian’s chest was tight. he didn’t know how to respond, this was not happening how he planned.

he watched the way that your eyes shimmered with anger and longing, something too honest to fake. and he felt the way he was loosening.

you looked at him like he mattered, his absence affected you. looked at him not with disgust for watching you all week, but almost relief. the silence stretched between you both, taut and trembling. you couldn’t even speak. the weeks worth of overthinking and questions, all led to this moment.

he took another step, closing the space between them. his expression softened, features gentled. his guard lowered. your name left his mouth—it wasn’t fair, “…i see you, and i forget what i’m supposed to be.”

your breath hitched.

that was all it took for you. the confession of his truth, that she didn't dare to hope for. your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

“i shouldn't be here,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, “i shouldn’t be doing this with you.” you took a step back, you could feel yourself under his pull again, waiting for his touch. but you wouldn’t fall for it this time. you couldn’t.

but he followed.

not a full step—but a lean, enough to make you look back at him. “i know,” he said softly. your hand brushed the wall beside you, fingers splayed to steady yourself.

he looked at you, really looked, the curve of your lips, the storm in your eyes. the way that you were holding yourself back right now, everything you were feeling.

he lifted his hands slowly, deliberately, giving you time to pull away.

you didn’t.

his fingers brushed your cheek. featherlight.

“i want the one thing i shouldn't,” he said, barely above a whisper. “you.”

your eyes fluttered shut for a second, his words washing away every red flag or sign that told you to leave. he didn’t move, not until you looked up at him again, your face screaming don't, but your body leaning in slightly.

that was all it took.

his lips caught yours in a kiss that was at first hesitant—like a question. soft and coaxing, but when you deepened it, and your hands gripped his coat. like you needed him to stay—it deepened. darkened. heat blooming beneath skin and memory.

it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t safe. who knows if it was right. but you didn’t care.

it was the kiss of two people who knew this wasn’t right, but wanted it anyway.

his hand slid to your hair, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moved against yours, calming it. you gasped against him when his other hand found your waist, fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt. he pulled you flush against him.

your lips parted from his for a moment, and he took advantage, his tongue sliding over yours in a slow deliberate stroke that made your legs weak. your fingers gripped his coat, holding on like you didn’t trust yourself to stand.

he kissed you like he was trying to remember everything about you. take back all the missing days in between the two of you. make up for it.

and you kissed him back like you were waiting for this, for him, since the moment that he disappeared.

the air between you two was electric. your back fully pressed against the wall now, he crowded in, not quite touching beyond lips and hands. but the tension said more. the hunger levied in the inches the both of you didn’t cross yet.

you broke away first, gasping, your forehead falling lightly against his.

he didn’t move, still holding you like he wasn’t ready to let go. and he wasn’t. he was afraid of what would happen if he did. everything happening was like someone else was controlling him.

your voice was barely a breath, “you’re going to ruin me.”

his lips brushed against your cheek, then your jaw. “i already have,” he said as he smiled into your skin.

but even then, he knew—he was already ruined too.

a/n: omg im so sorry ive been gone for so long, i had finals and the got sick right after... so editing this took longer than i wanted :(

i hope it doesn't come across as confusing when i switch more to brians side of view, i really wanted to show the internal struggle he was feeling since it would really take a lot for brian to even consider being w someone mhehehe

[icetruckprincess]

[icetruckprincess]

hi everyone! i promise im not mia ive just been swarmmmmed with finals !! its my last yr in undergrad so im also finishing my thesis and then graduating!

part three is the longest yet so it’s taking me a bit to edit it—i’m so bad with spelling errors lol so i have to reread my work a thousand times.

thank u for being so patient and i hope ur still looking forward to it heheh

lots of love,

cherry ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

your brian fics are the best omg, keep going xx

aghhhh! thank u sm it means a lot to me to receive sm love and support ꨄ part three will be out soon i promise & i think the series will be more than three parts ... hehe so many ideas

lots of love,

cherry ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

thought i would share my matching shirt with brian mehehe ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

need to be held disorder

[icetruckprincess]

blood & devotion | part two

description: you thought the evening would be harmless—a simple date, a glass of wine. but rudy has a way of leaving an impression, and the night takes an unexpected turn. passion and secrets intertwine, drawing you deeper into rudy's world. unknown to you, darkness lies beneath the surface, and you are left with more questions than answers.

chapter cw: brian moser x f!reader, brian as rudy, drinking, nsfw content, drinking, manipulation, implied violence, canon type violence, mature themes.

wc: 2.9k

part one | part two | part three

please do not steal or copy my work in any way. copyright © icetruckprincess 2025. all rights reserved.

you stood before the mirror, adjusting your hair for the third time. your hands were trembling, but it wasn't nerves— it was the anticipation. after days of second-guessing whether this whole date was really a good idea, rudy kept resurfacing your thoughts. brief as your time with him had been, rudy had left a mark that you couldn't shake. 

so there you were, swiping on lipstick with careful hands, whispering to yourself that it was just a harmless evening. a glass of wine, nothing dangerous, nothing serious. but deep down you knew it was a lie. 

the restaurant rudy chose was dimly it, intimate. the kind of place where people told secrets and fell too quickly into each other’s arms. shadows danced along the wall, stretching tall. jazz murmured from hidden speakers, wrapping around your shoulders like silk. 

rudy looked breathtaking under the low lights, his green eyes always catching you with that same intensity that left you breathless at the hospital. he wore a crimson button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms again, revealing his strong wrists and careful hands. he smelled of cedar and musk—warm and dark. 

you sipped a dark red wine that tasted like velvet and listened to him talk, his voice low, “well i studied in paris for bit. studied prosthetics, and then ended up here in miami after.” 

you blinked, caught off guard, “paris, wow. i’ve never been.” 

he smiled, “ it wasn’t just school” he started, mouth tugging into a quiet smile. “i needed distance. there’s peace in being somewhere no one knows your name.”

the way he said it made your skin prickle. distance from what? it was too early to pry, but it didn't mean that you weren't curious. 

“or where you came from?” you asked softly. 

he nodded, “exactly.” 

the space between you two seemed to narrow in the silence, as it always did. the jass hummed low, like a heartbeat underneath the table. his eyes caught yours again, searching, and then dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting back. 

“prosthehics... it’s oddly intimate work, “ he murmured, directed to you.

your gaze drifted to his hand as he circled the rim of his glass with a fingertip, slow and deliberate. it was impossible not to watch.

"the mechanics of movement are beautiful,” he continued voice softer now, laced with awe. “tendons, joints,—the architecture of it all. we’re built so precisely, and yet… it’s only when something is missing that we understand the elegance.”

the way he said missing, like it was both a tragedy and a fascination pulled at your heart unexpectedly. tony flashed in your mind—his absence. 

and rudy, almost as if he sensed it, reached for your hand. 

his palm was warm as it closed over yours, slow and gentle. his thumb began to trace over your skin, like he was smoothing out the ache in you. 

you parted your lips gently, startled by the tenderness of the gesture. 

“im sorry,” he said, voice low and remorseful. “i shouldnt have, i know—"

“no.” you interrupted quickly, the words tumbling out. you didn’t want to lose the chance where he seemed to be opening up to you. “please keep going.”

he hesitated, his thumb stilling over your hand. you leaned in just slightly, eyes pleading, “i want to hear more. about you.”

his expression shifted—just for a second. a flicker of surprise, or softness. then something darker and deeper passed into a twitch of a smile. 

“the body tells a story,” he said, holding your gaze. “sometimes more in it’s absence than in its presence."

your breath caught. you felt pinned in place, not by fear, but by something else. you couldn’t look away, “you make it sound almost… intimate.”

he titled his head, amused, eyes bright. “it is. you spend hours with a single limb. you start to know it in ways it's owner never did. the slope of it. the weight. the things it once could do. it's like learning someone by what they've left behind.”

you stared at him, eyes wide. still holding his gaze, still in his spell. 

hushed you replied, “you talk about it like it’s art.”

he smiled wistfully, “sometimes it is.”

his thumb swept over your hands again, just once, before he slowly let it go. you almost reached after him, fingers twitching, but you stopped yourself.

you looked away and breathed out the air you forgotten you were holding. you took another sip from your glass, your lips tremebling slightly.

his eyes didn’t leave you. he was waiting for your reaction. so you obliged.

“youre not what i expected,” you said the words barely louder than the music. 

“no?” he asked, lips tugging. 

“not at all. i thought you’d be…simpler. someone who talks fast and leaves faster.” you said it with a light laugh, but you meant it. no one ever lingerd like this. looked like this. not at you.

no one connected to you like this. the way he described his job so poetically mimicked the way you felt about drawing. 

he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “i guess i disappoint.”

you smirked, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks. “not yet.”

the night stretched on—rich and dangerously. conversation flowed but always with the undercurrent of something unspoken. he listened to you attentively, as if memorizing every detail you shared. his eyes kept returning to your hands when you gestured or to the line of your legs in the candlelight. 

and you noticed.

but your instincts—the ones that whispered this was all too perfect, were drowned out now, soothed under the weight of wine and the gravity of him. the way he made you feel seen. 

your laugh came easier the more he spoke. your posture softened, you heart beat faster, and it was not just because of the wine. 

and so when he asked to take you home, you didn’t hesitate. you said yes. 

the ride to your apartment was blur. the air between you both had grown thick with tension, heat and desire. he even walked you to your apartment door. streetlights hummed above you two. a breeze teased your hair across your cheeks. 

“thank you," you said as you stopped in front of the door. “i didn't expect to enjoy tonight this much.”

“i did,” he murmured, stepping closer. “from the moment i saw you in the hospital, i knew.”

before you could ask what he meant, his mouth found yours. your back hit the wall gently, as he covered your head so it wouldn't hit the door.

you broke away first, feeling a whirlwind, but whispered, “come inside.”

he followed you in. 

your apartment felt different with him in it like the air had shifted. you turned on a lamp by the couch, casting everything in a soft amber light. it wasn’t loud, but quiet, the hum of the city outside was your only witness.

you turned to him, heart in your throat, and found him watching you, like something he couldn’t believe was real. 

rudy stepped in close, and you didn’t move away. 

he tilted his head, asking for permission without even saying a word. you nodded almost eagerly, jolting when you felt his hand find it’s way to your back. 

“you sure?” he asked, voice careful. 

“yes” you whispered. no hesitation. just want. 

he exhaled, something like surrender. he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to stop him. but you didn’t. you met him halfway. 

his mouth was warm and precise. not greedy, nor urgent. he kissed you as if he was trying to understand you—his lips brushing yours softly as first, then deeper. his hands went to your hips, sliding around you with the same devotion he spoke about with prosthetics. as if you were something he needed to know by touch alone. 

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. you felt his chest against yours, his breath hitching when your lips parted from him. for only a second, as he pulled you back.

his tongue moved with slow control, deliberate like everything else about him. he tasted of wine and something else you couldn't be bothered to think of.

“you’re beautiful,” he said into your neck, his voice so close it sent shivers through your spine.

his hands moved under your shirt, exploring you gently, reverently. you helped him remove it, and he paused to take you in.

his fingers traced over the lined of your ribcage, then over your collarbone, as if mapping you. his eyes were fixed on your body like it was a canvas he studied from afar and now finally had the permission to touch.

you undressed each other slowly, carefully. no rush. no shame. the slow reveal of his skin underneath felt like unwrapping something dangerous and rare. his lean lines of his torso with taut muscle under his tan skin. 

but what caught your eye and what stopped your hands as it reached for him, was the tattoo on his upper arm. you couldn't stop looking, it wrapped his arm like a secret that whispered deeper things. 

it was simple at first glance: dark ink curling together, wrapping around muscle like it belonged there. but looking closer you saw it was hounds, chasing one another, bound together. you should’ve asked about it, but he kissed you hard before you could even. 

when your back hit the bed, you let out a breathless laugh. he followed you down, eyes drinking you in as if you were something holy. 

but he didn't rush, he didn't even kiss your lips again. he moved lower. 

his lips moved down your neck, to your collarbone, then your chest. he took his time, tracing the curves of your body with his hands and kisses. his mouth was warm, his breath hot. when he reached your stomach, he turned to look up at you. 

“you have no idea,” he whispered, his voice like silk, “how perfect you are.”

he kissed the inside of your thigh and you gasped, hips tilting upward on instinct. but he held you down steady, controlled as his hands splayed against your skin as if to ground himself in the feel of you. 

and then his mouth was on you.

you cried out, back arching as his tongue moved with deliberate devastating precision. it wasn't just pleasure, it was worship. he licked you up and down, pausing to kiss between each motion, not to tease but to devour you.

“rudy—” you whimpered, hand tangled in his dark curls.

he looked up at you, his pupils wide, lips glistening, and a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“let me make you fall apart in my hands,” he murmured, voice low and tender, "let me take control.” 

and you did. 

he returend to your clit with relentess attention, refeusing to stop even as your hips jerked and thighs trembled against his shoulder. you came with a broken cry, shuddering underneath him, your chest rising and falling like a storm had passed through you. 

he kissed his way back up your belly, ribs, the swell of your breasts. he left a faint trail of breath and drool across your skin. 

“i—i want you. please rudy” you whispered. 

he hovered above you in the quiet of the bedroom, the city lights casting a soft glow on him— striping his body in shade and gold. your eyes followed the trail of hair that led from his navel downward, and when he let his briefs fall to the floor, you gasped softly.

he was… beautiful. thick and long, resting heavy against his lower stomach, his desire was visible, unashamed. but there was nothing crude about it. 

this was the man who touched you like you were art. who spoke of bodied the way poets spoke of marble. who kissed you like each one was a promise. 

and now he was offering himself to you. not demanding, simply waiting. watching your face for an answer. 

your thighs parted on instinct, your breath hitched.

“please.” you whispered.

and that’s all he needed to hear. 

when he entered you, it wasn't with force—it was with care. deep and patient. like he was savoring the moment. a groan caught in his throat and your body stretched around him, full and filled. 

he pressed his forehead against yours and in return you wrapped your legs around his waist. every movement was slow and measured. every thrust was like a secret shared in fragments.

“you feel like..” he stared, but couldn’t finish as he moaned. 

you kissed him, not needing the words. you felt it too.

there was something electric in the way he looked at you while his cock pushed into you, like he coudln't understand what he was doing, only that he needed it. his hand slid over your cheek, your shoulder, your hip—tracing you again.

he murmured your name unto your skin, like a confession.

his pace quickened and became rougher. he lifted your legs to his shoulders. it hurt a little, but the kind that burned hot, that made you want it more.

“don't stop,” you whispered, “please.”

he continued his pace and he lowered himself down to kiss you like he needed it you breathe. you felt yourself almost coming undone for a second time, wanting it more than ever. 

your reached for his hand, and guided it towards your throat. his eyes widened, only for a second, as he understood completely. his fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently and possessively as he pushed deeper, never breaking rhythm. 

your eyes fluttered shut. 

“no,” he groaned out, voice laced with command, “look at me.”

you opened your eyes immediately and there he was, watching you like you were prey he had chosen. and yet, you didn't feel afraid. you felt like his. 

you cried out, begging for more and he obliged. 

rudy was in control completely of you, and yet he felt something underneath. your eyes continued to lock with his, and he saw something he hadn’t expected: care. it disarmed him. 

you didn’t even know who he was, or what he had done, but looked at him as if he were whole. like he was something worth touching. 

your hands reached up, gently touching his jaw, “rudy, please” you whispered on the edge.

he heard it. felt it.

and when you came, it was breaking and real—your body shaking under his, as you dug your nails in his back. which only encouraged him to move faster, aching for a release of his own. he followed after, with a low groan into your neck.

but he didn't let go of you. he stayed there, skin to skin, his breath hot on your throat. 

you fell asleep like that. wrapped in his arms, your head ending up on his chest. the beat of his heart echoing under your ear like a note to a song.

brian didn’t sleep. 

he lay still, watching you in the hush of the early hours, the city still humming outside the window. 

your skin was still warm, breath still soft against his chest. the tension you carried during the night had vanished, melted into the sheets. you were fast asleep. brian stared at the ceiling, jaw tight.

his heart was still beating too fast, but not from exertion, something else. you trusted him. you had looked at him like he was real, like he could be good. gazed at him with your eyes saying he deserved to be touched.

he turned his head slightly, just enough to look at your face in the half light. your lashes lay dark against your cheek, your lips parted. still flushed from earlier, you looked soft, unprotected. 

it was perfect. he could kill you right now. it was so easy. you were already his, and you had given yourself. 

his fingers hovered above your throat. this was the plan. he always had a plan, and it always ended the same way. he could squeeze the air out of your neck just like he did before, but with more force, watch you struggle to breathe, losing the light out of your eyes. he reached for it, his fingers grazing your neck—but then stopped. 

your hand shifted in your sleep, reaching for him instinctively. his hand didn’t move. 

his heart stuttered. his chest twisted in a way that didn't make sense- burning and wrong. it was a feeling brian didn't have a word for. but it felt nostalgic and distant. 

your breath was steady. the same breath that had gasped his name hours earlier, the same breath that trusted him with the closeness no one else had earned. 

he clenched his jaw, trying to avoid whatever this was. he inhaled sharply through his nose and peeled himself away from you. careful not to wake you.

he stood at the edge of your bed, watching you, as he dressed in silence. 

he moved towards to couch, sitting in the dark, hands trembling. he had never hesitated before. never once. his eyes lingered on your form under the covers once more, your arm stretched out from where it had reached for him in sleep. 

he couldn't kill you, not tonight. 

you were too close to knowing him. too close to making him feel like he could be known. and that was dangerous for you. for him. 

so he left without a sign. no note, no message. no fingerprint or strand of hair for you to remember him by. he closed the door behind him with the sound of a whisper, and slipped out of your apartment like a shadow.

he would kill from afar, he decided. let the obsession fade. cut the attachment surgically, let it rot like a limb.

but just not tonight. not after the way you looked at him. not after the way you held him. 

and not with that indescribable feeling still in his chest—warm and terrible.

a/n: i hope you guys like this one hehe.. im so awkward when it comes to writing intimate scenes lol. also i think this will be more than three parts mehhehe. enjoyyyy!

[icetruckprincess]

masterlist!

brian moser ꨄ

ꨄ blood & devotion : ongoing

part one | part two | part three | part four

[icetruckprincess]

hi, i'm cherry ꨄ she/her. 21

i luv brian moser | minors dni

masterlist recent main blog request anything!

[icetruckprincess]

oh boy! another brian writer for our small, teeny tiny little fandom. welcome welcome!!! hello! hope to get to know u soon

good stuff so far! lots of luv.

-🤍

omg thank u sm, this message is so sweet, truly. would love to get to know u and everyone as well. i've been a silent reader myself for so long, and i finally got the courage to post my own writing. also bc we all needed more content of him hehehe.

lots of love to you as well!

-cherry ꨄ

[icetruckprincess]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

[icetruckprincess]

omg thank u guys sm for all the notes & follows so far... i really thought no one would even see it lol but part two will either be out tonight or tmrw. soooo much inspo bc i mean its brian meheh

[icetruckprincess]

blood & devotion | part one

description: when your cousin, tony tucci, survives a brutal encounter with the ice truck killer, you find yourself haunted by the trauma and intrigued by the charming doctor assigned to his care. but beneath the hospital lights and stolen glances is something darker. in the chaos of grief and guilt, you search for something to hold onto... unaware that you're falling into something more dangerous than you imagined.

chapter cw: brian moser x f!reader, brian as rudy, mature themes, implied violence, canon type violence, slowburn, nsfw series

wc: 2.6k

part one | part two | part three

please do not steal or copy my work in any way. copyright © icetruckprincess 2025. all rights reserved.

the fluorescent lights of miami central hospital buzzed faintly overhead as you leaned against the wall outside of your cousin’s hospital room. the antiseptic of the hospital clung to the back of your throat, a sterile bitterness that mingled poorly with the coffee in your hands.

inside the room besides you, tony tucci lay unconscious, pale, and missing the lower half of his leg and hand. kidnapped and tortured by the ice truck killer. the infamous killer hadn’t managed to finish the job, and it was a miracle, so the doctors said. you weren't so sure. 

you brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and exhaled slowly. your fingers wrapped tightly around the paper cup, its warmth long gone. your eyes searched the hallway, mind racing on what to even say to tony when he awoke. this wasn't the kind of trauma someone walked away from unchanged. you rubbed your thumb over the paper rim, trying to soothe your nerves.

that’s when you saw him. 

tall, broad-shouldered, and slightly unruly dark curls framed a strong face with a cleft chin. he was beautiful. his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, his white coat open. his green eyes landed on you like he had been expecting you. he approached with a smile that looked practiced till perfection. 

“you must be family,” he said, voice warm—a little too warm in the cold setting.

you blinked, momentarily thrown off. “uhm yeah, i’m his cousin."

he extended his hand towards you, and flashed a warm smile. “dr. cooper, but call me rudy. i’ve been working on fitting the prosthetics for your cousin’s case.”

you took his hand, firm and gentle. you nodded in response. 

he paused; he was waiting for something. 

“oh- it’s..." you said as you gave him your name.

he said your name slowly, with interest.

“... nice to meet you.” another smile, and he finally let go of your hand. your pulse skipped a bit.

he put his hand back in his coat pocket and looked at you, “i know it's a difficult time, “ he said gently, "but tony is lucky. most people don't survive encounters like this.” 

you pressed your head against the wall, “so i've heard.” you turned to look inside the room to see the unconscious figure of your cousin in bed. 

you don't know if it was because of the highly emotional situation you were in, or that he was helping tony, but you confided in him-“he looks so different. what happened...it's so fucked."

rudy’s voice softened, "whoever did this knew how to keep him alive while hurting him. that kind of precision is rare. it’s disturbing, but he’s strong. he survived."

you looked up sharply. his tone was clinical, but there was something just underneath it. fascination? he caught your expression and quickly masked his. 

“forgive me,” he said with a sheepish smile. “that probably sounded awful, doctor talk. i'm around this kind of thing so often, sometimes i forget how it comes across.” 

you shook your head lightly, “no it’s fine. youre right. the ice truck killer or whoever the fuck did this, is disturbing.”

you brow furrowed just thinking about it. rudy’s eyes narrowed as if deep with thoughts. 

your eyes flicked back to rudy. “thank you for taking care of him, or his case.”

“of course.”

there was a pause—a spark as his gaze lingered a moment too long on you, like he had just come to a realization. you tilted your head, lips curving. 

“what? do i have something on my face?"

he smiled back at you, “no, … you just remind me of someone.” 

you both stood there for another beat too long. the silence felt charged. rudy cleared his throat. 

“if you have any questions or need updates, i’ll be around.” and then he turned to take his leave. 

“thank you, uh rudy.” you replied and turned to enter the room, pausing to catch another glimpse at him. there was something calculated about him, you thought, but also magnetic. you didn't know whether to be wary or ignore the thought.

but what you didn't know was that rudy, better know as brian and the ice truck killer to the miami metro, had just chosen you as his next victim. 

the next time you saw rudy, it was strange and yet perfect. 

you returned to the hospital the next day, during the evening as it was the only time you could afford after work. you brought your sketchpad underneath your arm. tony was still unconscious by the time you got there, but the nurses encouraged you to sit and speak with him—it might help, they said. so you stayed, whispered things about your childhood, from what you could even remember yourself, and tried hard to not think about the brutal reality of what he had survived. 

it was dusk when you stepped out into the hospital hallway to stretch your legs and clear your mind. 

and there he was again. 

rudy leaned against the reception counter of the floor you were on, a pen in his fingers slowly spinning. his coat was unbuttoned again, and his expression softened as soon as he noticed you. 

“you’re back again,” he said playfully with a smile. 

you smirked, “of course, he’s like a brother to me.” 

he nodded and then paused, looking down at your hands. “going for a coffee refill?” 

you looked down tracking his gaze, to the paper cup in your hands. you didn't even notice it was empty yourself.

before you could even respond, he replied, “i have a coffee machine in my office that's much better than the cardboard they serve down at the cafe. want to come?”

you hesitated. rudy was undoubtedly attractive and charming, but he was also your cousin’s doctor. and a stranger. not that you weren't allowed to engage in friendly conversation, but it felt like something more. like the way his gaze made you feel like he could see right through you. at a time like this, it felt weird to be excited. 

but you found yourself nodding anyway. you couldn't help it, his charm, confidence and interest in you, enticed you. and the thought of some good coffee.

as you walked down the hallway, both of your foot steps echoed quietly. you caught glimpses of his profile through the reflective glass. his jaw was sharp, eyes focused, and stride was effortless. the comfortable silence was interrupted by his voice,

“so you like to draw?” he asked like he's known you for years. 

“w-what?” how did he know that you-

“i saw you drawing in the room earlier this afternoon.” he seemed to be able to read your mind immediately and provide a response to ease you. but did that mean he had been watching you? 

“yeah, it’s just something i do in my downtime.” he paused– as if he could sense that you were closed off towards him.

“snooping are you?” you teased a bit to lay off your suspicions. 

he half smiled, “was passing by and i was curious. still am.” he continued on and you followed.

there was a pause in the air. not heavy but thoughtful. you both approached his office door, “here we are."

he held the door for you, allowing you in first. as you stepped into the office, your eyes swept the sterile space. the room was neat, professional and impersonal. framed degrees lined the walls in perfect symmetry, besides the anatomical charts of limbs and joints. he led you further in, the front door whispering shut between you two. his office was cooler in both temperature and mood. 

“snooping, are you?” he mimicked you playfully, as you were eyeing his space. you smiled, embarrassed as he caught you. 

“you caught me” you replied, and he chuckled lightly back. 

“and over here, is the amazing machine that produces the best coffee you can get anywhere around here” rudy said softly, moving towards a smaller corner where an espresso machine sat. his hand brushed past the small side of your back as he walked behind you, light and deliberate.

you froze, for a second, as shivers ran through you. 

“how do you take it?” he asked, with what seemed like genuine interest. it's like he wanted to know everything about you.

“uh, however you make it. i'm not picky” you replied, not wanting to inconvenience. he began to make the coffee, and you couldn't help but look around his office again. prosthetic limbs propped on shelves and stands. you felt out of place, as if any misstep would disrupt the balance that he carefully maintained in there. 

he finished making the warm cup and handed it to you. you took a cup. the sip was smooth, delicious. he made it just how you like.

“not bad,” you murmured. 

"i aim to please" he charmed back at you.

he leaned against the counter, arms crossed and watched you over the rim of your cup as you sipped more. his expression was unreadable to you—calm, maybe curious, but once again something you couldn't pin down. he had no trouble reading you, but when it came to him, you were lost.

you decided to indulge in his previous inquiry, “i usually draw moments… not faces but gestures. fragments. hands, sometimes. people who look like they're about to leave or just arrived.”

he watched you as you spoke, intently. you felt a bit stupid for sharing that, not meaning for it to be that vulnerable. 

“that says a lot about how you see the world,” he replied, uncrossing his arms. 

you looked away, “what—that im moody and vague?” you teased yourself.

he shook his head and took a step forward,  “no. observant, intimate.” another step. your pulse quickened. “maybe a little lonely too,” he joked. 

you chuckled, but he was right once again, able to see right through.

feeling his eyes all over you, you changed the subject to him, “what about you? you work with people's bodies all day. ever feel like you're just, building parts of them instead of really seeing who they are?” 

you noticed how he paused, almost taking a step away from you, something unreadable flickering behind his calm. 

“everyday.” another silence between you two, as if you were finally able to get into his head. 

he changed the subject back to you, “if you ever wanted to show me something you've drawn, i’d like that”.

you raised an eyebrow, lip twitching into a smile, you couldn't help yourself. he was saying all the right things. 

something passed between you both, not loud and obvious, but charged. like a current flickering beneath the surface waiting for either of you to touch the water. 

your fingers slipped through your hair in a nervous gesture, “sorry. i don't usually do this, talk like this, with strangers…"

his eyebrow raised.

“.. i mean well, doctors. especially a doctor working my cousin's case.” you were realizing the situation as you spoke. here you were laughing and smiling with tony’s doctor in his office, drinking coffee like it's casual, and even flirting—well could you call it that? all while your cousin lay unconscious down the hall. you couldn't help but feel guilty.

his warm voice intruded your inner dilemma.

"well i don't usually flirt in the middle of work hours.”

your head shot up. the guilt you felt moments ago washed away.

“so this is flirting?” you questioned, mainly to confirm. he was flirting with you? attracted to you? sure you thought it for second but considering the situation, isn't this some sort of violation?

he kept his gaze with you, his eyes not wavering. calm. direct. 

“without question.” there was something about the way he said it—assured but not cocky. like he didn't need to convince you. like he already knew that you felt it too.

your cheeks warmed before you could stop them. you bit your lip, half to ground yourself, half to keep smiling too much. his gaze lingered just long enough on you to draw you in but you didn't step back. this was dangerous. 

rudy pushed away from the counter, crossing the short distance between you. you almost didn't hear him move at first. you stood up straight, surprised and he leaned in besides you, almost touching but reaching past your shoulders to his desk. his arm brushed near your hair as he picked up his mug.

it wasn’t the touch that affected you; it was height. 

the sudden startling awareness of how much taller he was. his body was so present. you swallowed hard. he looked down at you, “pardon me” he said drawing back his original place. 

you didn't say anything in return. you couldn't. you broke eye contact and tried to focus on anything else, the table, the neat row of tools, but you could feel him looking at you. 

“you free friday?” 

you blinked, caught off guard again. 

“what?” you asked, in shock. 

“dinner, friday, somewhere real, no lab coats, or coffee machines involved.”

your heart had a small, unexplainable jolt.

still in disbelief you replied, “i thought doctors were supposed to have a terrible work-life balance.” you joked trying to change the subject and you couldn't believe this was happening. 

“i make time when it matters.” he said as if it was the simplest thing. your pulse was loud in your ears. was this part of a game? charged moments and careful comments? or was this real?

he didn't elaborate, or fill the silence. he just waited and watched you with that same unreliable calm. you felt a flicker of nerves in your stomach, because you wanted to say yes. and that felt risker more than anything else. 

“okay, friday.”

he nodded, no dramatic reaction, but something shifted in his expression. almost like a faint quiet satisfaction. he gave you his number and said he’d pick you up. and just like that you had a date with rudy cooper. 

the sliding glass doors opened, as the hot heavy air of miami hit you as you walked out of the hospital at ungodly hours. the scent of car exhaust and something blooming nearby—jasmine, maybe. 

you barely thought about it, as you walked in an uneven rhythm, legs moving on autopilot. you could still feel him behind you. not physically, not anymore. but the echo of him lingered.

rudy cooper, his calm voice and measured smile, the subtle way he leaned past you without touching you, and still managed to set you on fire. 

it had been so casual, “you free friday?”, like he wasn't turning something over with it. like it hadn't changed the way the air felt between you two. 

you pulled your keys from your bag and stared at the reflection of yourself on the car window. you didn't date doctors or, well, anyone. definitely not your cousin's doctor. and yet here you were blushing over said handsome doctor. entertaining the idea of dressing up for him while your cousin was fighting to stay alive. 

the guilt crept in slowly and sharp. it wasn't that rudy wasn't kind, hell he was in charge of helping your cousin. and he was equally interested in you. but that was part of the problem. 

he made you feel alive in way that you haven't in days. but maybe that's why it felt so wrong. you leaned against your car, letting the heat of metal bleed through your shirt. your breath was shallow. 

you didn't get to run off in some detached fantasy while tony was there. you're supposed to be present and with family, and yet...the way he looked at you. really looked at you. your body answered before your mind could catch up. 

you hated yourself for liking it. saying yes. for wondering what you would wear. you closed your eyes and let the guilt sit with you. let it settle like dust. and then quietly, you just breathed. let the guilty thoughts wash away, just as he had done for you before. 

you hadn't walked away from tony, or abandoned him. you were just searching for the feeling of being human again in all this chaos. to want something even if it's messy, or not perfect timing. and rudy gave you that chance.

you opened your eyes and the world hadn’t shifted, but something in your head did. you slid into the driver's seat, and shut the door gently behind you. friday would come. and maybe it would be complicated. but maybe you deserved to feel something again too. maybe you deserved to have something in spite of all this chaos, that would be in your control. 

or so you thought.

a/n: need more brian fics on here, down so bad i had to write a series myself. my first work, i hope u enjoy hehe.

[icetruckprincess]

there is not enough brian moser content out there, so I decided I'm gonna have to write some myself...