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greengoblinswifey · 6 months ago

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Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

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Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

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rainrot4me · 6 months ago

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Sick Days

Summary: The Creepypasta guys are feeling a little under the weather. You, their lovely partner, spend the day taking care of them (whether they like it or not).

Characters: {Separate} Jeff the Killer x Reader, Ticci Toby x Reader, Masky x Reader

TW: Very domestic and fluffy, slight bickering

Words: 6.7k

A/N: Sorry for the delay! More Christmas-themed works coming out shortly!

Seven days of pure snowfall and ice.

It had snowed a lot—a thick blanket of white across the forest deep enough to get your boots stuck in. Winter always seemed to roll around the Slenderwoods a little later in the year, but when it did, it was brutal. And, with so much pristine white covering the ground, the mansion was on full display in contrast to the grayed-out trees.

Slenderman gave his orders. This meant longer missions, longer days in the frigid temperatures, and even longer nights recovering. You would think natural-born killers would have some inkling of instinct to keep themselves alive, but when they all returned practically half-dead…

Thick jackets and worn shoes piled by the door, somehow still defrosting and leaving obnoxious puddles of water wherever you stepped. Dusty counters were littered with piles of nasty food and dishes, laundry untouched (that wasn’t unusual anyway), and a serious lack of arguing or hysterical fighting between the walls (that was unusual). It seems the weather hadn’t only brought down health, but moods too.

So, when things turn bad in the mansion, where do they end up?

Your front door.

Jeff the Killer ▸

Jeff knocked nonstop until you opened your door, a confused look as to what in the world the killer could need. It wasn’t unusual for Jeff to stop by unannounced; he had made himself at home in your house a long time ago, but it was unusual for him to show up in the middle of the afternoon (broad daylight and all).

“Jeffrey? Are you alright?” Glancing behind him, you could see where his boots made imprints on the fresh snow covering your sidewalk, dusty snowflakes melting in his dark hair.

But, finally glancing up to meet his gaze, you could see it.

He looked terrible. More so than usual. Skin raw-red from the cold winds whipping at him, hair tangled, and head pounding in time with his too-loud heartbeat. You knew about the missions, and you knew what being in the cold for too long could do, you just didn’t know someone like Jeff could even get sick.

Stepping aside, Jeff trailed into your home, shoulders hunched so low you thought he was trying to fall over. All he gave you were hoarse grunts and shaky nods as you helped him strip his heavy clothes, shaking the snow from the sleeves onto the doormat outside. By the time you turned around, Jeff was already halfway down the hallway towards your bedroom.

The killer was so exhausted he didn’t even get his muddy boots off before he was face down into the pillows and oblivious to the world.

Given the grueling retreat he had just returned from, this would have been a reasonable response. But, as his partner, you knew better than most: Jeff never sleeps, especially when he has a fresh mission to brag about. It only took his ragged coughing and blatant pitiful state to figure out you were going to have to help him.

The can of chicken noodle soup you poured into a bowl, then to the microwave, came out steaming hot. You blew on the contents; the smell was nice as you reached for a spoon, and you made a mental note that you would also need to clean his dirty clothes still caked in mud and (hopefully not his) blood. A small towel under the bowl, and you were making your way down the hall.

Jeff hadn’t even bothered to shut the door; his limp body spread across your mattress like a corpse. He covered his head with a pillow, gripping the fabric and muffling the sputtering snores laced with evident sickness. You had only left him alone to make the soup for a couple of minutes, but that seemed to be enough to knock him out.

Jeff never slept, only when his body really needed it. But right now, his body also really, really needed something in its stomach besides mucus. You set the bowl on your nightstand before slowly kneeling on the bed. What do they say about waking a beast? You couldn’t remember.

You cringed, teeth gritted as you gently placed your flat hand onto his back. His skin was burning, heat practically radiating from him as you easily rubbed up and down his spine. He didn’t even budge, the only sign of life being the gentle rising and falling of his back as he snored into the fabric of his pillows. You ran your hand higher, fingers rubbing across his shoulders and dipping to the arch of his shoulder blades until you felt his arms slowly shift.

His breathing faltered, consciousness rolling back into him as you shifted, letting one leg dangle off the bed as you sat beside him.

“Mhhmn…” He groaned, stiffly turning his face towards you and glaring through bloodshot eyes. You nearly choked out a laugh, scanning his flushed face and horrible eye bags, appearing even more dead than he normally did. It took the killer a minute to register what was happening, his messy bangs sticking to his forehead and matting wildly; it was evident he could’ve slept for the rest of the day and then some.

But it was only 3 pm, and the sun shining through his curtains was made even worse by the reflection of the snow. He needed to eat; there was no telling how much he had worn himself down this past week. Jeff was never very good at self-preservation, especially when you had become a net to fall back on.

“Hey man… You wanna try and eat somethin’?” You tried to keep your voice low, the killer rolling onto his back and rubbing his hands over his face. He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and slowly blinking at the ceiling.

He nodded.

Reaching for the still-steaming bowl, you cupped the contents in your hands, shifting further onto the bed. Jeff shifted upwards, slowly but surely. It was odd. You had witnessed this man jump fencelines and tackle men double his size, but give him a fever and a headache that can’t be numbed out with alcohol, and suddenly he’s defenseless. You could’ve laughed, taunted him like he often did when you weren’t feeling hot, say something to get his gears going…

But he just looked so… pitiful.

One hand cupped under the bowl, you reached the other out, delivering soft touches with the back of your hand on his forehead. Jeff watched through tired eyes, blinking slowly when your fingers brushed his sweat-damp bangs out of his face, leaning closer to your every touch.

Always loud-mouthed and quick to anger, but right now, he was just calm. His body refused to move as quickly as he wanted it to, and his head was far too foggy with nausea to even consider pushing your helpful hand away. So, he just accepted it. Reluctantly, in his mind, but accepted it nonetheless.

“You don’t look so hot. What happened out there?” You paced the words slowly, taking the spoon in your hand and collecting a bit of the soup before bringing it to his pale lips. Jeff closed his eyes when he took the spoonful in his mouth, drinking the warm broth before letting you bring it back to the bowl for another.

“Forgot to bring extra clothes… Hada’ reuse the same wet shit every day…” His voice was so hoarse, too. He cleared his throat, letting you spoon him another drink of the soup before leaning his head back on the headboard. He sounded like he had been sucking down nothing but cold air, throat raw and scratchy with the sinus infection he was harboring.

A warm shower? Or maybe bringing him to sit in front of the fireplace you had crackling in the living room? You weren’t sure what he needed, but you knew he needed to sweat out this fever before it became a real problem. He reached for the bowl, cupping the towel underneath to set it in his lap before continuing to fish spoonfuls. The warmth of the soup probably did wonders for his sore throat.

You went to stand, pressing off of the bed before a rough hand wrapped around your wrist. Glancing down, Jeff was tugging you back towards him, knotted brows giving a silent question as to why you were leaving him. You smiled, kneeling back on the mattress to place a quick kiss on his way-too-warm forehead. “I’m starting you a bath, alright? Finish your soup.”

Another quick kiss and he was letting your wrist go, satisfied with your answer. The silence was awkward, but vulnerable and quiet. Jeff had no choice but to let you care for him; something about that made your heart so full.

Roaming to the bathroom, you pushed the curtain to the tub back and flipped the faucet all the way hot. Water filled slowly as you rummaged through the cabinet behind your sink mirror, reading various drugstore medicines and cough syrups before shaking a handful of sinus and head cold pills into your hand.

You heard the gentle patter of bare feet stepping onto the tile of the bathroom just in time to turn off the running water, the tub steaming with scalding water. Arms wrapped around your middle gently as you shut the cabinet, Jeff’s nose burying into the crook of your neck as he fell limp against your back.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, his face against your skin as he breathed deep, taking in your smell. You smiled, reaching back to brush his hair back before playing yet another kiss on his warm forehead. “Hush. You need to get better, and that mansion is no place to relax. Don’t worry about it.” Despite reassuring him, Jeff still held a defeated look.

Dropping the medicine onto your sink counter, you turned to help him take off his shirt, his hands doing their best to hold onto your arms the entire time. Clingy.

“I got it.” He huffed, tossing his shirt to the ground.

“I know you do.” You smiled up at him. You undid his belt anyway, undressing him the rest of the way with little protest. There was no flirtatious comment, no sly touches, just a weak, sick boy who wasn’t used to being this vulnerable. It was sweet.

Jeff stepped into the bath, and you left him to get a cup of water. He drank the pills down, skin blotching red with the heat of the water, but at least he looked more relaxed. He was so lengthy, he had to bend his knees to fit comfortably, which you laughed at.

You knelt beside the tub, using that same cup to collect water and rinse his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy strands, his quiet groans making you smile as you poured a small dab of shampoo onto the palm of your hand. Tired eyes watched you carefully when you began to scrub his head, lathering the shampoo between the strands and massaging his scalp. He was falling apart underneath you, soapy bubbles drifting into the water while you washed him off.

His hands cupped your own, kissing your wrists. He was being so gentle, it almost gave you whiplash. There was no off comment about you catering to him, or being a jerk just for the hell of it; he was being oddly sweet. Maybe his being sick wasn’t so bad.

Until you zoned back into his coughing fit, strained coughs that looked like they physically hurt. You rinsed his hair, careful not to get the soapy water into the gashes on his face as he settled down.

You wiped the water from his face, his clammy skin wet under your hands as you went to stand. Jeff leaned back, letting his head rest against the wall of the tub while you collected his clothes, letting him know you’d be right back.

You needed to do laundry anyway, so grabbing the rest of the killer’s dirty clothing and tossing them into your load was easy enough. They reeked of dirt and outside, splotches of dried blood staining the sleeves of his hoodie. You didn’t want to know about the mission; you didn’t want to know what in the hell caused these stains, but you were sure he’d tell you sometime anyway.

Starting the machine, you shuffled back to your room, rummaging through your drawers for something that the killer could wear. You ended up on a t-shirt that was baggy on you but would fit him perfectly, a pair of boxers he left the last time he was here and sweatpants that would be good enough until his clothes were dry.

You stepped back into the bathroom, clothes in hand, and Jeff turned to look up at you. He had already cleaned himself off, water slowly draining from the tub as you helped him climb out. “Feel better?”

He nodded, reaching for the towels you had hanging off the edge of the tub and drying himself off. You set the clothes down, hands reaching to dry off his hair as he dressed himself.

You knew it had to feel so much better to be in clean clothes, let alone something that wasn’t jeans and a hoodie riddled with filth. Jeff seemed content enough, but more than anything, he looked tired. Exhausted.

“Alright, time for bed.” The sun was just starting to set outside your window, thick orange light flooding through the curtains as Jeff followed you back into the bedroom. You wouldn’t be going to sleep for some time, but you were sure the killer would be out in minutes.

Pulling back the sheets of your bed, Jeff climbed in, body nearly giving out as soon as his weak body got under the warm covers. “I’ll let you rest, tell me if you need anythin-”

Jeff didn’t give you the chance, barely getting a foot away from the bed before he was dragging you in too. You smiled, his arms wrapping around your waist and throwing the covers over the two of you. “Aw man, you’re gonna get me sick-”

You couldn’t help but smile as Jeff delivered sickly sweet kisses across your cheeks, lying you both down as his arms caged you in, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Then I guess we’ll just have to be sick together then, baby.” You knew a sly smile would break out of him sooner or later.

You both relaxed into each other, wrapping the covers tight as the sun set slowly against the pretty snow. The fireplace still crackled in your living room, the whole house warm compared to the brutal cold Jeff had been forced into days before.

Running your hands through his now-clean hair, Jeff groaned, practically purring when his eyes began to close, tight grip around your back faltering slightly as you realized the sinus meds were finally kicking in, that dazed look behind his expression. As if he wasn’t tired enough, this would have him knocked for the whole next day.

It didn’t matter to you, you’d be there tomorrow to cater to him too, taking care of the killer who rarely ever let himself go like this.

Planting one last kiss on his jaw, you felt his chest slowly rise and fall, gentle snores dragging out underneath you. Leaning back, you grabbed the remote to your TV off the nightstand, turning some show you needed to catch up on with low volume. You realized you needed to relax too, the winter season having you run a mile a minute, so this would be a good excuse to worry about something other than your crazy life.

With one final tug on the back of your shirt, you let your own eyes close, the sun finally set as a pretty blanket of dark sky finally shown through the window.

“G’night [Y/N]…”

Jeff was there by your side when you became sick the week after, a terrible fever that wouldn't break no matter how many baths or rags he placed on your forehead.

He felt bad, sure, but he felt even better that he got to make fun of your terribly red face and nasty cough that he didn’t have to deal with anymore.

Even sick, you somehow managed to win every argument or put the killer back in his place. You made him repay his stupidness with healthy fast-food runs and kisses. He quickly learned to keep his mouth shut.

In sickness and in health, you guess.

Ticci Toby ▸

Technically, Toby couldn’t feel the pain of being sick.

He never got the sting of a sore throat, or the ache behind your ears when you sneezed too much, or even the pounding head and body aches that kept people from getting up. No, he bragged about never being defeated by strep throat or the flu.

But what he did feel was the pressure, and the fatigue, and the awful way your stomach just refused to hold down any solids.

So, when it got so bad he couldn’t shove it aside anymore to complete another mission, he found himself knocking on your door.

And he was not happy about it.

“Toby, you have got to lie down.” You huffed, his limp arms in your hands as you tried and failed to drag him towards your bedroom. He was acting as if he couldn’t walk, feet glued to their respective spots in your kitchen. The brunette always played a little childish, but right now he was just being plain juvenile.

“Nah. I just swung by to gra- grab some food, there’s nothing good at th- the mansion.” Even as you held him, the boy still browsed your cabinets and pantry for snacks. You would have been more than happy to offer, but Toby had already eaten a bowl of your chili leftovers, two bags of chips, and was going for pastries next. It was like being sick turned him into a human vacuum.

“I know, but you’re freezing, hun. Your face is so red it looks like you’re going to explode. You need to get under some covers.” Toby could blame that on lying face-down in the snow for an hour, completely oblivious to the pin-pricking sharpness of the cold on his cheeks, or the frostbite that was forming at the edge of his nose. He never felt a thing, completely lost in the weightless blanket of powder underneath him. He would’ve stayed there another hour or two if Tim hadn’t jerked him up and yelled at him for being an idiot.

But now he was here, sick as a dog and getting harassed by his partner who was just trying to help. Tim was sick at the mansion, too. What luck.

“I’m fine. It’s just a co-cold or something. Quit baby- babying me.” Toby couldn’t tell if it was his tics or the uncontrollable shakiness in his hands, but he dropped a pack of crackers he’d fished out of your pantry. He groaned in frustration, crouching down to grab them, but you snatched the package up first.

“You’re not fine, Toby. You’re pale as a ghost, your voice is raspier than usual, and you can’t even hold onto a pack of crackers. Just let me help you.” You set the crackers on the counter and put your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. He glared right back, his dark eyes narrowed and defiant.

“Don’t ne- need help,” he muttered, though the stubborn edge in his voice faltered as another violent shiver racked his body. He clutched his arms around himself, but you could see how badly his fingers trembled. The eye-roll you delivered him could kill.

“Yes, you do. Come on, Toby. Just this once, let me take care of you.” Your tone softened, and you crouched down so you were at eye level with him. “You’re not going to get better if you keep ignoring yourself like this.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours. For all his bravado, Toby wasn’t immune to the weight of your concern. You perceived the world differently than he did, concerned with the trivial things of sickness or relaxation, while the brunette hardly cared if his skin was rotting off (it was). Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered, “Fine. But only for a little while.”

“Thank you.” You stood and held out your hand to him. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Toby reluctantly took your hand, and you helped him to his feet. He leaned on you more than he probably realized, his steps unsteady as you guided him to your bedroom. Once there, you pulled back the blankets and helped him sit down on the edge of the bed. In the light of snow through your window, you really got a good look at just how pale he was, lips a subtle shade of purple that would’ve had any normal boy in a hospital.

You helped him shed his ragged jacket, kicking off his boots until he was in the barest clothes he had stumbled into your house with.

“Alright, lie down,” you instructed, gently pushing on his shoulder. He grumbled something under his breath but complied, sinking into the mattress with a groan. You pulled the blankets up over him, tucking them around his shoulders.

“This is stu- stupid,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. He was facedown, something so childish, like a kid upset his mom was making him go to school.

“It’s not stupid. It’s called taking care of yourself,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Now, stay put. I’m going to get you some water and medicine.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes were already closed. You smiled softly, relief washing over you as you left the room. Finally, he was letting you help. Now all you had to do was nurse him back to health—and maybe convince him that it was okay to lean on someone else every once in a while.

The next few days were a blur of soup, medicine, and relentless efforts to keep Toby in bed. He protested at every turn, grumbling about how he didn’t need to be babied, but his body betrayed him. The fever left him weak and sluggish, his usual energy reduced to mere fragments of what it once was. After having to literally calm him down with a healthy dose of cough medicine, he finally stopped berating you.

“This is the worst,” Toby groaned, his voice hoarse as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets you’d tucked around him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his cheeks were flushed from the lingering fever. What started as cold chills and sickly paleness had sprung into a hot mess of trying to break the fever the brunette wasn’t aware he had. Once his body actually laid down, got some medicine, and got under some warmth, it finally started trying to heal itself. The only good thing about this was his body was so busy trying not to combust that his tics were on the back burner. His muscles were so weak, they really didn’t hold the energy.

“You’re getting better,” you reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of soup in your hands. “Here, eat this. You need to keep your strength up.”

He eyed the bowl with disdain but reluctantly took it from you. “You’re en- enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Bossing me around.” He smirked weakly, but it lacked his usual snarky bite.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin. “But only because it’s for your own good.”

Toby rolled his eyes but started eating the soup anyway. You watched him carefully, noting the way his hands shook less than they had the day before. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

By the third day, the fever broke. Toby woke up looking more like himself, his energy slowly returning. He still tried to downplay how sick he’d been, but you caught the gratitude in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Thanks,” he mumbled one evening, leaning against the doorway as you cleaned up the kitchen. He was wearing one of your hoodies, the sleeves too short for his arms, but all of his dirt-covered clothes were in the middle of a wash.

“For what?” you asked, turning to face him.

“For... y’know. Put- Putting up with me. Helping m- me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed on the floor. Even with sickness deteriorating, that pink still lingered in his pale cheeks. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You don’t have to be,” you said softly, walking over to him. “That’s what I’m here for. Next time, don’t wait until you’re half-dead to ask for help, okay? One day you’re going to kill yourself just because you’re stubborn.”

He huffed a laugh, the sound light and genuine. “Impossible.”

“Toby.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll t- try.”

“Good.” You smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek, running your fingers across the scars that littered the skin. He cupped your hand, tired eyes roaming your features as he leaned in, pressing a firm kiss on your forehead. It was only when you reached up to ruffle his hair that he swatted your hand away, but your smile didn’t falter.

As the days went on, Toby fully recovered, though he still feined needing to stick around your house just to be sure. Your pantry was nearly run through, and every snack you had planned to eat mysteriously disappeared despite your boyfriend’s testimonials. But you didn’t mind. Seeing him back to his usual self was all the thanks you needed. He would be buying you more, though.

But knowing Toby, you weren’t holding your breath.

Tim Wright▸

The snow was relentless, blanketing the world outside in a thick, quiet stillness.

Tim was a shadow against the swirling white, his broad shoulders hunched as he trudged up the path to your door. His steps were uneven, his breath visible in harsh puffs against the icy air, and it was clear he wasn’t in good shape. You barely managed to open the door before he stumbled inside, shaking the snow off his coat and muttering a half-hearted apology.

“Tim?” you gasped, reaching out to steady him. He was freezing to the touch, his skin pale and his lips tinged with blue. “You’re ice-cold. What are you doing out in this weather? You should’ve called me.”

“Didn’t want to bother you,” he grumbled, his voice rough and strained. He tried to wave you off, but his hands trembled as he shuffled his heavy jacket off. “I’m fine. Just need to get out of all that.” The Operator had shoved him and Brian too far, Masky and Hoodie nearly ready to saw off some heads if they had to spend one more night in the frigid snow. He knew he shouldn’t bother you, shouldn’t cross that line of his affairs and your relationship, but he knew he wouldn’t make it back to the mansion tonight.

“You are not fine,” you said firmly, taking his arm and guiding him toward the couch. “At least come inside and warm up.” You were still in your pajamas, on your way to bed when you heard the haphazard knocks on your door.

Tim hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, but the weight of his exhaustion won out. He let you lead him, collapsing onto the cushions with a groan. The sight of him like this—so worn down and vulnerable—made your heart ache. Tim was always the strong one, the steady rock everyone leaned on, but now he looked utterly defeated.

You grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over him, fussing despite his weak protests. “Stay put. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice was softer this time, less convincing. He leaned back against the couch, his head tipping against the cushion as he closed his eyes. You hurried to the kitchen, boiling water for tea and pulling together a simple plate of muffins that took less than a minute to heat up in the microwave. You would make him a proper meal later, right now he just needed to get warm. When you returned, he hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow but steady. You set the tea down on the table in front of him and nudged his shoulder gently.

“Drink this,” you said. “It’ll help.”

Tim opened his eyes, glancing at the cup before taking it with a quiet disgust. He sipped the tea slowly, his large hands dwarfing the mug, and you sat beside him, watching him closely. He much preferred the bitter taste of coffee, but something warm in his stomach was better than nothing. After a few moments of silence, he sighed, his shoulders slumping further under the weight of the blanket.

“I’m sorry, love,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the tea. “I won’t stay long. You need to get back to bed.”

“I’m alright,” you said softly, “I’ll kill you before that storm does if you make it out that door again.”

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he set the mug down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I’m alright. I’ll rest for a while, then get out of your hair. I need to get back before they send someone after me.”

“That’s okay,” you said, placing a hand on his back. “You’ve got at least the rest of the night before someone comes looking. Nobody is trudging through this storm just to get you, hun. You need to relax. You deserve to be cared for, too.”

Tim let out a shaky breath, his hand scrubbing over his face. He knew there was no fighting it anyway, you held some power over him even he couldn’t figure out. Your sweet words and touches were enough to stop him from war, he thought. “I- Okay, just until morning.”

“Good,” you said, your voice gentle. “Now rest, you need it.”

Tim closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly easing as he let himself relax. It hurt your heart to see him so defeated, but if it took sickness to finally get him to relax, then so be it. You sat beside him, keeping watch as the snow continued to fall outside, a quiet reminder that even as big and strong as Tim was, he was still just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone else.

As the hours passed, Tim drifted off into a hazy state of staring at the fireplace, his breathing rough and uneven. The man didn’t sleep—he never did—but right now you really wish he would. You stayed by his side though, curled up next to him and monitoring his every cold chill.

You couldn’t help but feel a deep ache for him, seeing him like this—so worn down and fragile, yet still trying to be the strong, unbreakable as he always was. He let out a quiet groan as he shifted on the couch, his breath shallow, and for a moment, he barely seemed aware of his own discomfort. You were glad you had lit your fireplace hours before he arrived, the bright glow and gentle cracking of the logs under the flames, the heat radiating well enough to warm the whole house.

You gently touched his arm, trying to stir him from his restless half-awake daze. “Tim, you need medicine,” you said softly, your voice gentle yet firm. "You're burning up, and I need to make sure you don’t have a fever.”

Tim’s dark eyes blinked with confusion, and for a moment, he looked disoriented (meaning he was so far in the pits of his mind that there was no telling how disassociated he had become just from sitting here). The firelight danced on his tired face, casting soft shadows over the sharp lines of his features. “I’m fine,” he muttered hoarsely, but the words were weak, lacking the usual conviction. He barely had the strength to lift his head as he tried to wave you off. “I don’t need any medicine. Just a little rest.”

You frowned, your hand resting lightly on his forehead, the heat radiating from his skin like a warning. He was dangerously close to a fever, and no matter how much he fought it, he needed help. He just couldn’t see it. “I’m not asking,” you said softly, brushing back the damp strands of his hair. “A little rest won’t hold out.”

You wondered how Masky was taking the whole ordeal. You decided if his host was sick and weak, the alter probably wouldn’t want to front in such an unprefferable state.

Tim didn’t argue this time, his eyes flickering with mental strain. He let out a small sigh as you stood and walked into your bathroom, the quiet sound of your movements a comfort to him in the midst of his foggy, feverish haze. You pulled out the small bottle of medicine from the cabinet, one you always kept stocked for moments like these—when he pushed himself too far, too hard, until his body couldn’t keep up with the strain. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled into your home due to his ailments, and you were very sure it wouldn’t be the last.

You returned to the couch with the bottle and a glass of water, gently helping Tim sit up, his body unsteady as you supported him. His gaze met yours, conflicted, but he didn’t argue. You could see how much he wanted to be strong, to be the one taking care of everything, but right now, he needed someone to take care of him. And you were more than willing to be that person.

“Drink this,” you urged softly, holding the glass to his lips. “It’ll help bring your fever down. You’re not going anywhere until it does.”

He hesitated, eyes narrowing in that familiar stubborn way, but the trembling in his hands gave him away. With a heavy sigh, he took the glass from you and swallowed the medicine in a few quick gulps. He winced, but when he set the glass down, his gaze softened, a brief flicker of gratitude in his tired eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You smiled, brushing a gentle hand over his shoulder, offering the smallest of comforts as he settled back against the couch.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied quietly. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Tim’s lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but his exhaustion overtook him, his body sinking back into the softness of the cushions, his glazing over once more against the firelight. You didn’t need him to say anything. You could feel the weight of his gratitude, the trust he placed in you without saying a word.

You moved to the kitchen again. His body was still weak, but it needed fuel to help fight off the cold and the fever. You knew he wouldn’t ask for a meal, never would. But you also knew he needed it. You’d learned long ago that showing care was sometimes the quietest, most effective way to love him—through the meals you made, the medicine you administered, the silent acts of kindness that spoke louder than words ever could.

But, a bowl of soup would have to do for right now.

The smell of broth began to fill the house, a gentle, soothing scent that would help settle Tim’s stomach once he slowly phased back to reality. You checked on him every few minutes, ensuring he stayed warm, covering him with an extra blanket when you noticed him shiver. His breath was a little steadier now, the worst of the fever easing off, and the signs of his discomfort had lessened just enough for him to be able to relax.

You made sure to brew a pot of fresh coffee, too. That breakfast brew he seemed to enjoy so much, the smell wafting through the house and silently altering the man.

Finally, when the soup was ready, you returned to him, holding the bowl and mug in your hands and a small spoon at the ready. He looked up at you, his eyes soft, tired but grateful. You helped him sit up once more, this time offering him the warm, comforting food he needed to heal.

“You’ve got to eat something,” you said gently, pressing the spoon into his hand. “You need your strength.”

Tim took the spoon and scooped a small portion of the soup, eating slowly, savoring the warmth it brought to his cold body. Each spoonful was another step toward recovery, and with each one, he seemed to relax just a little bit more, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let you care for him. He took gentle sips of the coffee, the taste seeming to steady him better than the tea had earlier, the tension lines in his face finally evening out.

When the bowl was empty, you set it aside and brushed your fingers through his hair again, a tender gesture. “Better?”

He gave a small nod, his eyes now fully closed, his body finally beginning to give in to the warmth and the comfort you’d provided. He didn’t speak, but his hand found yours, gripping it loosely, a silent thanks for everything you had done.

“Need anything else?” You brushed his cheek, the stinging warmth still hot on his skin, but evidently cooler than it had been. He scanned your face for a moment, dark eyes roaming over features he had studied a thousand times, but finally had an answer.

“I’ve got a cig pack in my jacket…” The way his eyebrows twinged upwards gave you all the hint you needed, a small chuckle rising from his chest. You slid over to the door where he had discarded his jacket, rummaging through compartment pockets that held tool knives or bullet casings, but finally landing on the half-empty carton of cigarettes, his lighter tucked neatly inside. You picked out one, lighter in hand as you sat back on the couch.

Tim went to reach for the thing before you shook your head, holding the orange end to his lips with a small smile. He took the cig, your hand following and cupping over the end as you flicked his lighter to a spark, lighting the end. It smoldered, smoke slowly rising from the stick and into the air of your house. You would worry about the smell later.

A deep breath in and you could phsyically see the tension in his shoulders loosen.

This went on for the rest of the night, the slow rotation between cigarettes and refilled cups of coffee as you stayed by his side, arms latched around his own as your head rested on his shoulder.

He slowly shed the blankets, too, the sunlight break finally hitting over the horizon and filtering into your living room. By the time his fever was gone (broken in one night out of pure stubbornness), you were quietly snoring beside him, body curled up under his arm.

He took the time to carry you to your bedroom, slotting you under the covers with numerous gentle kisses across your cheeks. He cleaned the living room and kitchen, washing the bowl and mugs he had dirtied and sorting them away, making sure to tidy everything as the early hours of the morning rolled around.

He was there to make you food when you finally woke up, returning every favor you had offered the night before. You found yourself at his side on the couch again, watching the snow in the daylight.

You stayed by his side, your presence a quiet promise that you would always be there to take care of him, just as he had always done for you.

In the warmth of your home, surrounded by the gentle sounds of his steady breathing and the comforting scent of the meal he had made, everything felt like it was exactly where it needed to be. You didn’t need words to say it—your love for each other was already in everything you did.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

viinchester · 9 months ago

Text

Shape Of You

Warnings: Mentions of an injury and that it's being taken care of (nothing too graphic), Depictions of Sexual Content (Minors DNI!), Rough/Intense Sexual Content, could be considered Dubcon by coercion (not really imo, but just to be on the safe side), Themes of Possession and Objectification

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request: by Anon

Summary: Brian takes care of your injury after you've taken a nasty fall, however you can't help but feel like something's off about the situation. Unaware of his dark thoughts and oblivious to the deeper manipulation at play, you clear your mind by focussing on his comforting presence, and things quickly get heated.

Word Count: 3.271

My Masterlist

A/N: For some reason, I really struggled with this.😬 I rewrote it like 3 or 4 different times entirely, I hope it's not too noticable.😅 I was also unsure when exactly to refer to Brian as "Rudy" so I tried to only do it whenever the writing directly represents the Readers thoughts about him.💕 I still had a ton of fun writing this and I hope I could do the idea that anon had justice and that you guys like it!🙏🏼 I would really appreciate reposts/comments with feedback.👀 Feel free to request stuff, I always enjoy getting some inspiration to keep the writing going.💙

Brian knelt beside you, his touch gentle as he pressed the damp cloth to your leg. The sharp sting of the cut made you wince, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the embarrassment of how it had happened.

You had tripped, just like you seemed to always do. This time, it had been over something small, a simple crack in the sidewalk, causing you to suddenly lie on the ground, blood welling up and staining your skin.

Heat rose in your cheeks in frustration at yourself and the fact that Brian now had to take care of you, but he was ever calm and didn't seem the least bit bothered.

Not saying much, he offered you a soft smile and then continued tending to your cut, his focus entirely on the injury itself.

He’d always been good at this type of stuff, fixing things while being composed and so in control — qualities you usually greatly admired in him.

But as you sat there in that moment, feeling the warmth of his touch, something didn’t seem right.

You knew you should be glad.

Here was your boyfriend, cleaning up your mess, like he so often did. You were fortunate, really, to have someone like him — patient and ready to swoop in when you inevitably fell again. So though you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off, you did your best to simply brush it aside.

After all, this was Rudy. Sweet, dependable Rudy, who always seemed to know exactly what to do and was there for you whenever you stumbled — literally and figuratively.

And even if his fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary on your skin right now, it likely didn't mean anything. The way in which he inspected your bloodstained leg with a look of concentration reassured you further.

“You really should be more careful,” Brian suddenly said, his voice low and soothing. His gentle words and focused demeanor helped ease your nerves.

You chastised yourself for ever thinking twice about his actions. Your boyfriend was simply trying to watch out for you, that's all. Why were you even doubting him in the first place? Maybe it was just the pain from the cut or the embarrassment of tripping again. Or maybe it was the whole thing with the Ice Truck Killer going on at the moment.

Yes, that had to be it. It had probably made you more paranoid than you'd initially thought.

But you had absolutely nothing to worry about, because the sweet man kneeling in front of you was nothing like that monster.

Forcing yourself to relax a little, you sighed.

"I know," you mumbled, as he expertly bandaged your leg, secretly marveling at how steady his hands were.

It was easy to forget how awkward you felt in moments like this, with him so effortlessly tending to you. You crooked a smile at him then, but Brian didn’t meet your eyes right away. He was too busy inspecting his work, a subtle smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth as he secured the bandage.

To you, he seemed satisfied with his patch job, but inside, something else simmered. He felt an almost childlike joy about the way you sat there, so vulnerable, your leg limp in his hands.

He liked seeing you this way — hurt, but not too hurt. Just enough to need him, to be reliable on him.

It stirred something deep inside of him.

“There,” he said, leaning back a little to admire the bandage. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. “Does that feel better?”

You looked down at your leg and inspected the professionally wrapped bandage. It was not too tight and not too loose. It was perfect. Just like him.

Tension oozing from your body, you nodded and looked up at your boyfriend again, smiling earnestly. “Yeah, much better. Thank you.”

His smile widened just a fraction, not quite reaching his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m here to patch you up,” he said with a lightness in his voice that made you feel a little better. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

The way he said it — his voice smooth and promising — made you smile, comforted by his presence.

Rudy really loved you, didn't he? He was always right there when you needed him.

He stood up and offered you his hand, and despite the slight apprehension earlier, you eagerly took it. His grip was firm and steady as he helped you to your feet, making sure that you avoided putting too much weight on your injured leg.

You pushed past any lingering odd emotions and focused on the fact that you were grateful for him. You had nothing to worry about — not with Rudy, not with the man who never made you feel stupid for being clumsy, who was always kind to you, the calm in your storm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly, your voice carrying gratitude.

Brian's eyes flicked to yours, a faint twinkle in them. He felt content.

As he held your gaze for a moment longer, he could clearly see the relief and appreciation in you. It had him suppressing a grin, the way you were so easily fooled.

To him, you were perfect in your vulnerability, of course. A doll. Beautiful, delicate, and breakable. He liked you that way — liked the way your clumsiness brought you to him, having to be fixed, to be held together. Every scrape, every fall, was a small gift, an opportunity for him to touch you, to take care of you. To make you his again, piece by fragile piece. You were his creation, something he had molded with care and patience, and he was the only one who could keep you whole.

Or take you further apart, if he chose.

But for now, he was content to play the role you expected — your Rudy, the one who would always keep you safe.

He watched you as your eyes briefly flickered to his mouth and up again, and knew what you were going to do before you had even fully decided on it.

Slowly, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, wanting to show him just how much you appreciated him.

Letting you take control for a moment, Brian allowed you to believe that you were doing something for him, even though he knew better. You were in his hands, for as long as you lived. The thought thrilled him in a way you could never know, in a way he would never let you see.

Keeping his lips perfectly still, Brian decided to act surprised by your sudden gesture, pausing for a few seconds, until he could just about feel you starting to pull away.

He kissed you back then, using every bit of his self-restraint to start softly, and his hand came up to cradle the back of your neck in a tender movement. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, daring to go further by tightening his grip on you slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a few moments, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your heart beating faster. When you looked up at him, his smile was still there, and he looked as warm as ever to you. As you lost yourself inside his eyes, Brian felt that familiar pulse of satisfaction.

You didn’t know it, but you were already his, caught in the delicate web he had woven around you. He could see how much you trusted him and the unguarded naivety you held had been obvious to him from the very first moment that you two had met.

You were simply too brittle for this world. Too easily shattered by its sharp edges, too flimsy to protect yourself from the falls you constantly took. That’s why you needed him. That’s why you would always need him.

As his thumb stroked the pulse point along your neck, feeling the quickened beat beneath your skin, he smiled at you. It was a soft and loving smile, one he had perfected for you.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Brian now addressed your last sentence, his voice calm and encouraging, with only a tiny hint of something darker that you didn't seem to notice. “No matter how clumsy you are, I’ll always be there to fix you when you break.”

The words, meant to comfort you, immediately had their desired effect. You happily beamed up at him while blushing furiously.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you told him and then leaned in again, kissing him softly and embracing the moment.

Wallowing in the comfort and warmth he provided you with, you slid your hands up his chest, deepening the kiss. You didn’t want to think or talk anymore, just enjoy the feeling of being with him.

Brian watched you through half-lidded eyes, noticing your movements growing more desperate with every passing second. He could feel the tension in your body — the way you were almost pleading for his control — and it amused him, in a way.

You didn’t even realize how effortlessly you fell into this role, how naturally you let yourself be pulled into his world.

Moving his hands down to your waist, he squeezed them a little tighter than usual, but you didn’t seem to notice the extra strength in his grip, too absorbed in your need.

When you grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it up to pull over his head, he lifted his arms and let you, suppressing a smirk.

It was obvious to him that you needed this physical closeness. Your skin pressing against his, fingers now fumbling with his belt in a frenzy — you were letting go of any lingering doubts and focusing solely on him.

Feeling a sense of smugness, he guided you with quick, assertive movements, prying your clothes away with a roughness that seemed to match your urgency. You gasped as he yanked off your shirt and then dug his fingers into your skin, his touch simultaneously gentle and commanding. Leaning further into him, you longed for release already and how he always made everything else seem insignificant when you were together like this.

Brian’s lips determinedly traveled to your throat, kissing you with an insistent fervor now. You shuddered under the ferocity, but didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. His teeth grazed your skin, causing your head to fall back in an open-mouthed moan, arching your body against him, desperate for more. The heat of his passion overwhelmed you, pushing any thoughts of discomfort aside. Hands roamed your body, his traces both prodding and tranquilizing.

He could feel the way you were giving in to him and letting him take over, allowing him to guide you, and that’s exactly how he liked it. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in even more, and when you winced, he knew you felt it — though you never pulled away.

You wanted this. You needed him to be in charge.

When he led you into the bedroom, your discarded clothes left in the wake of his deliberate actions, his movements were filled with a raw intensity.

You shortly cringed at the sudden pain shooting through your injured leg when his weight pressed down on you as he pushed you onto the bed, but his lips crashing against yours with hunger made you almost immediately forget about any hurt. Kissing him back just as frantically, you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling onto him. He slipped his tongue between your lips almost forcefully, licking over every hidden crevice in your mouth with purpose. His hands roamed over your body and you moaned into Brian's mouth, his touch both a source of solace and pleasure for you.

Deep down on the inside a part of you noticed a subtle shift — Rudy was not being as gentle and careful as he normally was — but that part was swiftly drowned out by the sensations of everything else going on. All you could truly acknowledge in that moment was the incredible desire for him to make you forget everything but the feeling of him against you.

As if he somehow knew about what you’d felt, Brian interrupted the sloppy kiss and moved once more with intention and a vigor that sent your heart racing. His hands, bruising but controlled, pushed down the last bit of garment left between the two of you and you gasped as fresh air hit your intimate zone. You hadn't even realized how wet you'd gotten and now felt slightly ashamed at the way your body obviously liked the way he handled you and the way he'd been — and still was — pushing you and testing your limits, teetering the edges of breaking them.

He was still Rudy though, still the man who you trusted most in the world, so you didn't give it much more than a passing thought and decided to just roll with it.

Even though it would probably give you pause if you properly questioned it — the fact that he didn't usually act this way and only when you were injured or reliant on him in some way — for more than two seconds. But you didn’t question it for more than two seconds, couldn't, as your body deliciously responded and distracted you instead.

When Brian finally pushed into you, you cried out, your fingernails digging into his shoulders and leaving half-crescent-shaped moon indentions in his skin. He allowed you to adjust to his size for a short while, pushing his forehead against yours with his mouth hanging open in a silent groan as he relished in the feeling of being inside you.

After enough time passed for you to become used to him, you patted his shoulder and nodded ever so slightly, not capable of words.

Brian understood though, and immediately began to move, quickly setting a pace that was fast and demanding.

Pressing your eyes shut, you clung to him, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him impossibly closer — entirely missing the way his eyes were filled with something completely wild and dark. Focussing on the feeling of your boyfriend pushing and pulling inside of you, he soon began to hit that delicious spot deep in you, and you moaned loudly.

Brian leaned down then and you could feel his hot breath against your ear, his voice low and rough.

“You need me, don’t you?” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. You frantically nodded while gasping for air, unable to answer anything. “Whenever you need me, I am — and will — be there, every. single. time.”

He punctuated each word with a sharper and deeper thrust, angled directly at your sweet spot, leaving you choking for breath with tears in your eyes at one point. His words, though assertive, felt like a promise of security and care to you.

The room was heavy with heat, your breaths mingling, the sound of your bodies crashing together filling the space. Each push sent a jolt through you that made your head spin. You lost yourself in it all, in these repetitive motions, his touch, the feeling of his skin against yours.

One of his hands now moved to your clit and his movements became even more resolved and driven. He was controlling the moment, steering it exactly where he wanted, and your body responded accordingly. You could feel yourself being pulled in by the sensation, as he pushed you towards the edge.

“God, you’re so perfect like this,” Brian grunted, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Come on, it's alright. You’re mine, aren’t you? Just let go.”

Tears rose in your eyes as you felt your body react to both his words and actions, the increasing intensity overtaking everything else and throwing you into a rush of pure ecstasy.

Your fingers dug into his back, your breath ragged, and all at once you fell into the waves, pulled underneath by their impact. You couldn't breathe for a moment, until finally, with a twist from Brian's fingers and a sharp cry from you, you reached the surface again.

The release hit you hard, sending rows of pleasure crashing through your body, and all you could do was lie there and take it, face screwed up in the pleasure of it.

Brian followed soon after, his movements rough and forceful as he found his own release, breath hot against your neck as he groaned, low and deep.

For a moment, the world stilled as the both of you tried to calm your breathing, the overwhelming physical connection between the two of you leaving you in a daze. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling beneath the weight of his body on you.

After what felt like ages, but was likely only seconds, Brian lifted himself up and out of you, leaving you feeling strangely empty at the loss of him.

He collapsed beside you then and the room fell into a heavy silence in the aftermath of what you'd done.

As he lay beside you, Brian's mind was a whirlpool of satisfaction and dark pleasure. He reveled in the way you’d clung to him, completely oblivious to the extent of his control. The contrast between your dependence on him and his calculated dominance over you joyed him immensely.

Lifting his head, he turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush your hair back from your face, his caress tender again and a stark difference from the intensity of the moments you’d shared just before. His fingers grazed over your skin, his touch so feather-light and soft, it immediately erased any lingering concerns in you.

It was an act, of course. A way to further embed his influence. The compassion was a calculated gesture, a way to reinforce the illusion of care while keeping you bound to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked carefully, his voice carrying a tone of worry that felt comforting, and you nodded, reassured by his touch.

He always knew how to make you feel cherished, and you clung to that sense of security.

He noted the way your body relaxed against his, your breathing steady and calm. The pretense of concern came naturally to him, a mask he wore so well.

His hand now rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly as he leaned in closer.

“I love you,” he whispered, the final nail in the coffin, as always, his gaze lingering on you and studying your relaxed and smitten features. To him, you were more than just a partner; you were a project, a creation he had formed. The sweetness in his voice was a facade that masked his true intentions.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you felt another wave of affection and safety. Any fleeting worries were overshadowed by his sedative presence. You knew he was there for you, providing the care and support you needed.

“I love you too,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and drawing him closer, feeling his warmth envelop you.

And as you nestled closer, Brian’s thoughts were filled with a dark fulfillment. The control he wielded was subtle, deeply woven into the fabric of his relationship with you.

And you, in your innocent trust, had made it all too easy.

With the quiet settling in, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his presence and fell asleep.

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happy74827 · 11 months ago

Text

The Perfect Gift of Appreciation

[Rudy Cooper (technically) x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Being severely injured with zero money to back up your bills, you decide to take an emergency visit to the only doctor you personally know.

WC: 2897

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff,

A lot of you actually liked my Brian fic (love y’all), so I wanted to make another for you guys. I’m sad that there’s still none 😔😔

『••✎••』

He was absolutely pissed. Granted, he didn’t actually tell you, but the way his face fell into utter disappointment when he finally answered his door was all the information you needed. You couldn’t help but frown, your hand moving to cover your poorly bandaged arm as you watched him.

It made sense; the man had just come home from his shift, and his outfit was still intact with his suit and lab coat, with exhaustion weighing on his eyes. The man looked downright miserable, and with you looking like a wet rat from the rain and the blood seeping from your wound, he couldn't imagine a less welcome sight.

You both just stood there staring at one another, the rain pounding against the umbrella over your head. The wind was picking up, and you knew it was going to storm harder. You really couldn’t stand the look he was giving you.

"Hey, Rudy," You managed out, swallowing hard as the pain began to seep into your voice. You endured quite a lot to get here, and you weren’t about to let your pride show now.

The man before you let out a tired sigh, leaning against the doorframe as he closed his eyes.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?" He questioned the usual cheerfulness of his voice, which was replaced with annoyance. It hurt a bit to hear, but you didn't blame him. It’s quite rude to show up unannounced, and it was even worse considering you showed up after 2 am.

Your eyes averted downwards, feeling ashamed for even showing up here. The last thing you wanted was to bother him, especially at a time like this.

Yet, you couldn’t go anywhere else. Money wasn’t quite flowing well in your area, and it was bad enough to where you had no insurance. You were a simple college student, working odd jobs here and there while balancing school and the like.

The job you had recently obtained was a janitor position for a nearby grocery store, and things seemed pretty good for a bit. It was not enough to pay those outrageous health bills, but it was getting you by.

"I need a favor... I know it's not exactly the best time to be asking, but please, just listen—" You began, the words spilling out of your mouth just as you’ve rehearsed them a million times.

Before you could continue, Rudy opened his eyes and looked down at you with a small frown. He already noticed the way you held your arm and the way you kept glancing at it. He knew what this was about; he knew the moment he opened the door and saw the desperation in your eyes.

Your name fell from his lips, drained and tired as he rubbed his forehead. He was silent for a bit, just as you were, and when he finally looked back up, his frown grew deeper.

"You seriously can’t afford to get simple treatment? How do you even know if I have the right supplies to fix something like this up, huh?"

You didn’t reply, merely biting down on your lip as you looked away. It was true, you weren't sure. Yet, Rudy had always been so kind to you, always willing to offer his help and support when you needed it.

The man sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; he had to wake up in a few hours, and now he had to deal with this.

The only thing keeping him from saying no was the look you gave him.

You weren’t one to beg or ask for help. You usually dealt with things on your own, and when you couldn’t, you were willing to work it off. He admired that about you, how you weren't the type to depend on others.

The fact that you were even here, soaked to the bone and asking for his help, proved to him just how serious the situation was.

You had no other choice, and he knew that.

So, without a word, Rudy stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. The relief was immediate, and before he could blink, you were inside, the sound of the rain slowly fading behind you.

The warmth of his home was a great contrast from the outside, and you couldn’t help but sigh contently as he threw his coat off and led you down the hall.

His duffel was still beside the couch, a sign that he had just returned moments before. Somehow, it made you feel worse, knowing that you interrupted his much-needed rest.

You followed Rudy through the living room, landing in the kitchen where the door to his basement was. You were about to follow him downwards, side-stepping past him, but a hand slammed against the doorframe just before you could.

Startled, you looked up at Rudy, a brow raised at the sudden stop. He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, and it made you grow uncomfortable.

"Stay here. I’ll be up in a minute, okay?" His voice changed slightly, sounding far more awake than before.

"Can’t you just do it down there? I mean, that’s where all your stuff is, right?"

Why go through all the trouble of bringing everything upstairs?

He shook his head, his lips pulling into a tight line. It looked like he was thinking something over, and when he finally spoke, he seemed hesitant.

"Just trust me, okay? Just wait here. I promise I won't be long."

You frowned, wanting to question him, but Rudy was already moving down the stairs. The door shut behind him, and the next thing you knew, you were left alone in the kitchen.

Confused, you couldn't help but stare at the door.

Why didn’t he want you down there? That was pretty odd behavior for someone who loved to brag about his work. You couldn’t recall a time when Rudy wasn’t so open about what he did.

So why the sudden change?

You didn’t want to question it, and instead, you hummed and sat down in the chair. You could hear his footsteps echo downstairs, and you waited patiently for him to return.

The sound of the basement door opening was almost instant, and when Rudy entered, you noticed the big medical box in his arms. You couldn’t help but watch the man walk around his kitchen, his movements slow and calculated as he made his way over to you.

Rudy placed the box onto the table, popped it open, and began to pull out the gloves, rubbing alcohol, and gauze. The man grabbed a chair and pulled it across from you, and as he did, he glanced up at you and smiled.

Your mind, however, was still elsewhere.

"Hiding a body down there, or something? You were taking forever, know..." You mumbled, your gaze shifting from the box to Rudy.

He chortled at the comment, glancing up momentarily to give you a small smile before resuming his task of pulling out the medical supplies.

He didn’t say anything other than the comments about your wound. How’d you get it? If it hurt, how long ago did it happen…

You know, the typical doctor questions.

Rudy took your arm in his, his hold gentle as he carefully removed the cloth that was once your makeshift bandage. You winced, hissing as the material peeled away some of the dried blood, and it caused Rudy to glance up at you apologetically.

As the cloth finally came off, Rudy didn’t make any type of comment. He didn't react to the deep cut on your arm other than the occasional flicker of his eyes. To you, it was absolutely jarring. It looked so much worse than you expected, and you couldn’t help but glance away as the man poured the alcohol onto the gauze.

He must’ve been used to this kind of thing, considering he didn’t so much as bat an eye.

The alcohol felt cold against your skin, and you bit your tongue to prevent the pain from escaping. Rudy didn't say a word as he cleaned up the wound, and you took the time to glance at the man.

Rudy was focused, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on your wound. He was careful but quick, and his actions were precise and methodical. The way he moved was almost fascinating, and before you knew it, he was done with that part.

Rudy tossed the now bloodied gauze into the trash can that was temporarily beside the table and then reached for the next item.

The numbing shot.

The man paused, his gaze lifting from the supplies and up to your face. Rudy, the sweet and caring guy, had a very different face whenever he worked. He had his usual soft and comforting smile, but the way he constantly looked at your arm was so… cold.

He almost looked bored.

You blinked, and suddenly, he was staring at you, his brows raised.

You stared, unable to find the words, but the moment he spoke, the spell was broken.

Rudy gave you a sheepish smile, gesturing the shot in his hands. He warned you about the small prickle, gesturing to the shot in his hands, the prickle that’s never just a prick of the skin. It’s always quite painful.

The needle was tiny, but the feeling of the sensation entering your body was enough to make you grit your teeth. You felt your face grow warm, the embarrassment washing over you as the pain became a dull ache.

It didn't last long, and soon Rudy was shaking it around, supposedly making the numbing effect act faster.

Then, the waiting game. He told you around five to ten minutes, depending on your tolerance, and that's how you both ended up sitting across from one another in silence.

Rudy was tapping his fingers against the table, the only sound filling the air. You couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged, and the occasional yawn that escaped him.

"I’m sorry," You said, finally breaking the silence. His facial expression didn’t help you feel better, the frown on his lips growing deeper as he shook his head.

"Don’t be sorry." He mumbled, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Truth be told, I actually despise apologies. And it's not like you did this to yourself on purpose, anyways…"

That was true, you supposed. Still, the guilt wouldn't leave you alone.

When the man didn’t receive a reply, Rudy looked at you with a tired smile. His hands moved over the medical box, and with a slight push, it was out of the way and no longer between you.

Rudy then leaned forward, placing his elbows against the table, and folded his hands beneath his chin.

"You know, I miss this."

You blinked, tilting your head at him as a soft smile formed on your lips. "Me being clumsy and annoying?"

He chuckled, a sound that brought warmth to your heart, and the exhaustion was temporarily forgotten.

Rudy shook his head, and as he did, his smile faded and was replaced with something a little more sad. "Skin. The human body. Blood. The life force. I just miss it, I guess... I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little boring at times.. It gets repetitive. The smiles are nice, the gratitude of those I treat, but sometimes I can't help but think about other things. More exciting things, y'know?"

"Suturing my arm is exciting to you? That's pretty weird, Rudy, and that's coming from me…"

You were only half-joking, and Rudy was aware. The man was silent for a moment, his gaze averted as his smile slowly returned.

A soft chuckle left him, and he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms against his chest.

His eyes closed, and the smile on his face grew.

It wasn’t a sad smile, nor was it happy. It was a smile that said many things but nothing at all.

When his eyes finally opened, they were different. The smile was gone, and so was the warmth in his expression.

The smile he wore now was a familiar one, and the glint in his eyes was one you knew too well.

The box was moved back in front of him, and with a swift movement, the scissors and tweezers were in his hands.

Then, the conversation was over, and so was the waiting period. He did check to see if it was numb, but the moment you confirmed that it was, he went right back to work.

It was silent for the most part; you felt no pain, and Rudy was careful as he did his job. It was going by rather quickly, and with the silence that fell between the two of you, you couldn’t help but look down at your arm.

He was already halfway done. The numbing was working like a charm, and with how quickly Rudy was going, it was almost like a superpower. For a man not in his element, he seemed like he was pretty damn well in his element.

Maybe he did have a body hidden downstairs. Give him some practice.

Rudy stopped for a moment, the sudden pause causing you to lift your gaze and look at him. He was holding a new needle in his hand, a black string-like material in the other.

He was staring at your arm, the concentration on his face strong as he held the items up. It was a rather odd sight, and you couldn't help but lean closer to get a better look.

Rudy blinked, his focus snapping up at you, and he gave you a lopsided grin.

You watched him for a moment, the man simply staring back at you with the same grin, and after a moment of silence, he put the tools down.

"And, presto." He said, his grin widening, and before you knew it, he was packing up the box.

Damn, that was fast.

He wrapped the wound in an actual bandage, moving at the speed of light, and before you could even comprehend what was happening, Rudy was already finished.

The man got up, stretching out his back as he did, and he glanced down at you with a soft smile.

"I don’t keep any antibiotics around here, but a simple store trip can fix that. You don’t need anything fancy, just a simple infection control, and you should be good to go. It doesn't seem to be too bad, and if it gets any worse, then we can look into that later... at the ER."

"Right." You mumbled, not having the energy to protest. The sarcasm, the jokes, the humor... everything was gone. You were drained, and now that the whole ordeal was over, you felt yourself slouching against the chair.

You looked up at Rudy, and before you could speak, he was already talking.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll drop you home tomorrow morning before I go in. I’m seconds away from passing out, and you look like you're about to fall over."

You nodded, a silent thank you falling from your lips. Rudy gave you a nod in response and then gestured towards the hallway.

It wasn’t too long after that you found yourself walking down the hallway with a spare pillow and blanket. The guest bedroom was empty, and when you entered, the lights were off.

You didn’t question it, and instead, you set the pillow and blanket on the bed and made yourself comfortable. He said he used this room a lot, but somehow, it looked so untouched. It wasn’t dusty, but the way the room was set up proved that it wasn't often used.

Still, you were far too exhausted to give it a second thought.

Rudy walked past the doorway, a pair of keys in his hands as he waved them around. You heard him mention something about locking up and going to sleep, and after he left, the hall was silent.

And then, after a few minutes, the house was silent.

As you lay there, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. Your arm was still numb, and you felt nothing as you gently placed your hand against the bandage.

There was no pain, no nothing. It was just ugly, and yet you were grateful.

You didn’t even know Rudy for that long. A mutual friend introduced you to one another, and ever since then, it has been a whirlwind of events.

Especially due to your overbearing clumsiness.

But tonight? What a true blessing.

You couldn’t thank him enough. Maybe you could make him breakfast in the morning. That sounded like a decent enough gift.

Unless you happened to break his kitchen or yourself, you’d have to see how things played out.

And with that, you rolled over, your eyes slowly drifting shut.

You were out within a minute. And fortunately for Rudy, so were his neighbors.

It was a rather quiet night, after all, and with his soundproof walls, no one could hear a thing.

Even with the preparation for the next present for his precious Ken, the perfect gift of appreciation, no one could hear the sounds of his true work.

Well, no one except you.

[@ghostheartbeat, @numetalnerd2007] Here’s your tag, besties! Go wild! ☺️☺️

I hope you guys liked the "realistic" approach I took here lmao. I felt really devious about this plot 😈

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howlettsbaby · 6 months ago

Text

Our Little Secret ʚ♡ɞ

brian quinn x afab!reader

warnings: porn w/ little plot, reader is over 18, age gap, unprotected sex, oral!fem receiving, daddy kink, secret relationship, dub con (??) , rough sex, pussy inspection, nipple play, use of pet names (baby, doll, slut), mild manipulation, squirting, choking, overstimulation

summary: it’s been hard keeping a secret relationship with your dads best friend. despite how much you crave him, how would brian react if you started pushing him away?

a/n: just a small announcement - i have received various requests and i’ve already got drafts going for a couple of them. please don’t be alarmed if it takes me a while, i’m doing my best!

ever since you started sneaking around with your dads best friend, it feels like your whole life has changed. you cared for brian, you really did. but it was hard not being able to show your relationship publicly.

—

currently, your sitting on your kitchen island, eating a bag of chips when he walked in. looking up from the bag, you watched as brian closed the door behind him. he made his way towards you, sighing as he stood ahead you.

“hey baby,” his words were gentle. he softly smiled at you, resting a thumb over your uncovered thigh. it’s been hard trying to avoid him, despite seeing him recently around the house. you could tell he knew something was up with you. needing to come to a conclusion, he spoke before your could greet him back.

“you going to tell me whats been going on?” you let out an exhale, knowing that this moment was approaching. you knew you needed to communicate with him, but you couldn’t lose your dads best friend.

you sighed, avoiding eye contact. “i don’t know if we should do this anymore bri..” he paused, removing his hand from your thigh. “what do you mean?” he questioned, confused from your mixed feelings. “i just..” you stopped, trying to find the right words to say. “you know i care about you, i just don’t want us to get caught.” you murmured while he remained still.

“we’ve talked about this honey, you know i won’t let anyone find out.” he softly caressed your cheek soothingly. “i can’t let go of you.” you whimpered at his statement, “i can’t let go of you either.” looking up at him - you locked eyes with the beautiful brown-eyed man. instantly, a pool of wetness started to form in your panties. “is this why you haven’t answered my texts baby?” you nodded nervously. he exhaled once again, letting a smile creep around his lips to comfort you.

he placed a kiss on your lips, holding onto your jawline. “i’m sorry,” a small whine exited your lips. “don’t be, let daddy take care of you, mkay?”

his calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, lifting you up with a small gasp exiting your lips. “not here though.” he continued kissing you as he made his way up the stairs, concentrated on making his little doll feel good. when the two of you approached your room, he opened the door and placed you on your bed. he removed his lips from yours to stand up and go lock the door behind him — this was for nobody else to see.

brian rushed back over to the bed, immediately smashing his lips onto yours. “you taste so sweet baby,” he flirted. you blushed in response, rutting your heated area against his clothed buldge. “you want me baby? i want you.” your cheeks became even hotter - “yes, want you so bad daddy” you squealed, craving for him to be inside you.

his cock bulged at your whines, pulsing for you inside his jeans. he nearly tore your shirt in half due to his eagerness to take it off. luckily for him, you were bare underneath. your nipples hardened in the chilly room. “look so pretty like this,” he stared at your perfect tits for a moment, before smashing his face in-between them. his lips connected to your left nipple, as he massaged the right with his hands. you threw your head back while running your fingers through his hair. your freshly manicured acrylics scratched his scalp in all the right places.

after that, he worked his way out of his clothes, leaving him in only his boxers. he moved down your tiny shorts after he unclothed himself, discarding them to somewhere in your room. for a second, he admired your soaked panties. “all for me doll?” he chuckled, grazing his hand over your covered clit. you nodded in response, aching from the need of pleasure. “it aches daddy,” you rubbed a hand over your lower-belly, whining out for him. “i know baby, gonna fix that for you m’kay?” he lowered himself over your pulsating core, removing your cotton panties.

brian slid a finger through your glistening folds, admiring how much he turned you on. he watched as your hole clenched around nothing, and how your clit was beating out for him. “touch me, touch me bri” you threw your head back in anticipation. “just a second baby, let daddy have a look.” he said before he removed his hands from your wet pussy. brian then gripped your thighs for support as he kissed alongside them, nose nearly touching your clit. when you were about to confront him for the teasing, he slammed his tongue directly into your dripping hole.

he glided his tongue in and out your hole before sliding it around your clit. his grip on your thighs became rougher as you started to squirm. he watched as you started to grab everything - the sheets, his hair, your stuffed animals. he knew he was the only one who could make you feel this way, and planned on never letting you go. he didn’t give a fuck about risking his friendship with your dad - hell, he just started talking to him when he saw his pretty, innocent daughter.

brian was the first man to ever touch you like this, which led to you becoming obsessed with him. the way he cared for you as if you were a fragile piece of glass meant everything.

“mm, gonna cum,” you whined, alerting him about your release. he nodded his head side to side, lips still locked in your pussy. “not yet.” he demanded. his voice was stern and imperious. you moaned, not knowing how you’ll hold on any longer.

a couple minutes went by, and he was still settled in between your legs. “can’t bri!” you nearly screamed, becoming dumbfounded by the pleasure. he looked up at your face, watching how it contorted and how your eyes rolled back. the pleasure became too unbearable, so you started pushing yourself away from him. he was strong though, too strong. he kept you locked in place by just holding down your thighs. brian had a goal - and he knew he was about to reach it.

many “no’s” and “please’s” left your lips before you could feel something unfamiliar approaching. before you could make another move, a small aray of hot liquid drained from your core. it made a complete mess all over your bed but more importantly, all over his face. you hollered before the last drop of liquid left your body. your body fell limp on the bed, too weak to move.

brian lifted himself up and examined the mess you made. “didn’t know you could squirt doll,” he moved his way to hover his entire body over you. you let out a small whine in response, not able to form words in your head.

he moved your body and spread your legs before pulling down his boxers. “gonna fuck you now, okay?” it was almost as if he was asking permission, but you knew that wasn’t what it was. you nodded with your eyes still closed, too heavy to open them. “i need words baby” he demanded. you sniffled as a tear rolled down your cheek, “okay daddy,” you huffed. he kissed the tear off your face before lowering himself into your overused cunt.

instantly, you winced at the pain of his large cock slowly sliding inside of you. he made it about halfway before pulling out and gliding his cock along your folds. you groaned when his shaft touched your sensitive clit. caught up in the bliss, you snapped out of it when he slammed his cock fully inside of you. “ah, mm - hurts daddy.” you cried, wrapping your arms around his back for support. he was too big, and could barely fit inside your small cunt. “i know baby, hush, daddy’s got you.” he said peering above you.

he started to thrust inside of you, as you rocked your hips back n forth. the burning pain soon passed and turned into immense pleasure. he felt so fucking good deep inside your core.

he started to pick up the pace once he felt your hips move. his cock throbbed in your hole while destroying your sensitive gummy walls. it took everything in him not to completely brutalize you. he knew you were just a sensitive little girl, and he cared for you.

you could feel his tip kissing your cervix, sending you into a spiral. brian always watched your faces because it was easy to tell when you were going to cum. also, he just loves to look at his pathetic little slut whining on his cock. “yes, yes, yes!” you groaned out as he started to rub your puffy red clit with his thumb. nearing your orgasm, you bit down on his shoulder to muffle your noises. he grabbed one of his hands that were wrapped around your waist, locked it in with your hair, and harshly tugged you back. “no baby” he said between thrusts. “gotta hear you.”

while his hand was still pulling your head back, he moved his lips down your neck, sucking on the skin. brian knew all of your sensitive spots, and knew where to kiss you.

“i’m so c..close” you could barely manage to get the words out, stuttering between them. “you gonna cum for daddy, hm?” he said as he placed the hand that was once in your hair around your neck. “gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” his eyes were dark with lust. you could see it in him.

you could feel the knot in your lower stomach, begging for a release. “can i cum daddy, please?” you pleaded. he groaned in response, leaving you to release the buildup that’s been trying to get out. your back arched as you rode out your intense high. his orgasm followed soon after, pulling out and spreading his seed all over your stomach while you were still spazzing out.

he held you close as you started to calm down. you immediately fell into his chest, crying from the intense intimacy you two just shared. he rubbed your back soothingly and wiped the tears that fell from your face.

you both laid in silence for a moment, but it was comforting. then, you looked down at your legs and spot the huge mess you made. you whimpered, “i’m all messy” he chuckled. “i’ll clean you up soon baby, just let daddy hold you for a second.”

“mm, was i good?” you innocently look up at him. he grinned in awe, realizing how fucking obsessed with you his was. “did so good for me baby.” you smiled widely before tucking yourself back into his hairy chest, feeling a wave of relaxation hit you.

“we gotta do this again.” you said, words mumbled as you were tucked away. “hm, don’t think this is the end of it baby.” he said as the two of you closed your eyes and cuddled after the intimate event.

#brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #impractical jokers #brian quinn smut #brian quinn fluff #brian quinn angst #brian quinn imagine #bimbo doll #howlettsbaby

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slytherinshua · 8 months ago

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CUDDLING WITH AMPERS&ONE

genre. fluff. warnings. reader described to be shorter/smaller in brian's (but let's be real who is gonna be taller than him 😭). reader has maybe long hair in seungmo's. not proofread. pairing. ampers&one x fem!reader. wc. 930 (around 130 per member). request. requested by anon. a/n. in my writing for ampers era i'm so excited (maybe eventually i'll find a bias even) net. @kstrucknet

KAMDEN ﾐ 캠든

He’s all for whatever you want as he honestly doesn’t have many preferences about how you cuddle

As long as you’re content and he gets to be close to you, he’s a happy camper

Some days you just rest your head on his shoulder, other days you’re on his lap or spooning

You often wake up with limbs completely tangled with his during the night— you’re not sure how it got that way, but the closeness of your boyfriend warms your heart

90% of the time, you’re the one initiating cuddles as his arms are always free for you

But he’s definitely the type to grab your waist and pull you onto his lap as you’re walking by, which is one of the few times he initiates <3

BRIAN ﾐ 브라이언

Sweetheart’s cradle all the way, it’s like his favourite way to cuddle you

With your head resting on his chest, arm wrapped around your waist, he feels so content with you in his arms

And you love listening to his steady heartbeat <3 there’s nothing more relaxing

Sometimes you hear it speed up when you compliment him too

Since he’s so tall, he wouldn’t even mind if you lay completely on top of him

He likes back hugs too or any standing up hugs/cuddles cause he loves the height difference

Would look down at you with a lovesick expression and kiss your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug

He’d never tease you about your height, but he’s silently endeared by how much shorter you are than him

JIHO ﾐ 지호

His cuddles are the softest thing in the world oh my god he’s so gentle and comforting

He needs to be so close to you, as close as humanly possible

Arms wrapped around your body, your arms wrapped around his body, legs intertwined, everything

And he’d be unable to control his smiles while cuddling too cause he’s just so happy whenever you’re in his arms !!

Best believe you have a routine of cuddling before sleep, finding the most comfortable position in each other’s arms before dozing off

If during the night you get separated, whoever is first to wake up will rectify that

Being in Jiho’s arms for as much of the day as possible is the ultimate goal, which makes separating so he can leave for work a hard task for both of you

SIYUN ﾐ 시윤

Always always you’re on his lap

He’ll think of any plausible excuse just to keep you close so he can continue hugging you :(

Says he’s cold and you need to warm him up or that he’s deprived of cuddles and needs his daily dose, etc.

Somehow his convincing always leads to you cuddling against him, not that you ever would complain

His chest is your personal pillow and his thighs are your cushion— why would you ever choose your own seat when your boyfriend was right there?

The problem comes from Siyun’s habit of falling asleep while you’re cuddling, effectively trapping you because his arms are still wrapped securely around your waist

We all know he’s a deep sleeper too so good luck waking him up

KYRELL ﾐ 카이렐

He loves to cuddle you under blankets, especially if its cold outside

He perfected a burrito technique to keep you both completely covered head to toe with the blankets

You’re wrapped up so close to Kyrell and just so comfortable and warm

He’ll also just put the blanket over your legs if you’re cuddling on the couch

He’s reach for your hand and lace your fingers together so carefully and then rub small circles over your knuckles with his thumb

Loves to watch movies like that— it definitely became a regular for stay-in movie nights

He also likes having you in between his legs, even if you’re just sitting on the floor

Would build legos with you like that with his head resting on your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your waist :’)

MACKIAH ﾐ 마카야

Either cuddling in bed facing each other, or a classic arm around your shoulder while sitting <3

The man is a yapper so he’ll probably be talking to you while cuddling (or listening to you talk!)

He likes to play with your hands/fingers as well, feeling the softness of your skin and the warmth from your body

Or just hold them and give little squeezes; if he squeezes 3 times in succession you know he’s saying ‘I love you’

He’s very classically romantic like he came straight out of a teen romcom

Rather than throwing you pickup/flirty lines on your dates, he’d more likely do it while you’re cuddling

Makes you 10 times more flustered just from the close contact, and you’d definitely bury your face into his chest/shoulder to hide how flushed you are

SEUNGMO ﾐ 승모

Seungmo is particular about cuddling, he has his preferences because, to him, it’s a very serious business

He wants to be on your lap

Whether it’s just his head resting on your thigh or you holding his entire body, that part doesn’t much matter to him

You both love it even though it’s unconventional

You because it gives you access to his hair to play with or his cheeks to nom kiss

Him because he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair or tracing the lines of his face

He would grab one of your hands to press little kisses to your knuckles and would get so giggly if you gave him cheek/forehead kisses because your hair would tickle his face

He’ll also blow raspberries on your belly sometimes

↳ ampers&one taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @hursheys

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evermoresversion · 1 year ago

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MIRROR SEX, BRIAN O'CONNER.

TW/TAGS Established relationship, rough sex (kinda), mirror sex, porn without a plot, dirty talk, fluff ending. Lmk if I forgot something.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | BRIAN'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

"Look at you, that's a pretty little slut." Brian hissed, pounding into you while you were in the doggy position. A mirror was positioned in front of the bed, letting you see your reflection and the expressions on Brian's handsome face.

The stretch he was doing inside you felt so good it made you roll your eyes into the back of your skull.

"Fuck, Brian, more, please, faster." You moaned loudly as you felt him grab your hair with one of his hands as he slammed his hips against yours making you see stars.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the pleasure build up more and more inside your tummy.

"Are you going to cum? Are you going to fucking cum? Yeah? Are you going to cum on my cock?" His voice came out raspy and breathy from the force with which he was pounding inside you while nothing but moans and gasps came out of your lips.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" You repeated like a prayer, feeling that tingling throughout your body as soon as you started to climb that climb.

"Cum, go ahead." He didn't have to say it twice as soon as you felt that knot in your stomach burst, making you let out a cry of pleasure.

"Fuck." You whimpered and felt Brian come inside you as his thrusts decreased in intensity and you felt him soften.

He sighed and you saw in the reflection of the mirror that he closed his eyes breathing heavily. When he opened them he met your eyes and smiled fondly at you.

"Come here." He reached for you, wrapping his arms around your torso and laying you both down. Laying face to face, he moved your hair away from your forehead and placed a kiss on the area. "I love you, angel."

"I love you even more." You whispered.

#── 𝐕al write. ♡̷ ·˚#brian o'conner #brian o'conner fanfic #brian o'conner x y/n #brian o'conner x reader #brian o'conner smut #brian o'conner imagines #brian o'conner imagine #brian o'conner fluff #fast and furious fanfic #fast and furious movie #fast and furious

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38livesalone-has3cats · 7 months ago

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could you write for the impractical jokers with an s/o that has anorexia ? if that would be too triggering for you, i completely understand!!

hihi ! thank u for the ask :) i did my best with this and i didn't mention purging or binging because that's a lil triggering so i hope this is what you were wanting !!

The Impractical Jokers with a s/o with anorexia

-- tw; eating disorders(obv), unhealthy eating habits --

Sal

-he definitely monitors your eating as much as he can(in a loving way i swear, not trying to be creepy)

-texts you casual reminders to eat throughout the day, even if he know you won't

-he has your safe meals/meals he knows your comfortable with memorized

-y'all don't go out to eat often(he def has hellofresh or smth), but when you do, he makes sure to look up the menu with you beforehand and you guys plan what you'll get together

-he's very particular about what he eats so he has absolutely no shame while the two of you are out and will send back any food you mention isn't made the way you like

-honestly you could just give the plate a weird look and he's already calling the waiter back

-makes sure you take at least a few bites, but he won't force you into anything

-anywaysss

-sitting and eating with you is his love language atp

-he's always so proud of you, no matter what !! and he won't hesitate to tell you that

Joe

-we all know this man loves to eat

-he won't hesitate to finish your plate for you(after you take a few bites of course !)

-absolutely LOVES talking about sweet treats with you and honestly that's how he get's you to try new treats most times

-he will def get you to take silly pics with him with food connecting y'alls mouths or making silly faces with the food to "trick" you into eating

-his favorite dates with you are dinner dates, because he loves to chow down and he loves to watch his partner eat

-all in all he doesn't 100 percent understand ! but he supports you, loves you, and keeps you well-fed !

Murr

-he's genuinely so caring with you

-he makes sure you ALWAYS know how much he loves and cares about you

-he loves to pack lunches for the both of you, and he always leaves you cutesy little notes !!

-he insists that you two eat dinner together every night, he loves sitting down to unwind, chitchat, and share a meal with you(no matter how much you eat !)

-he can(and will) just go on and on about how beautiful he thinks you are

-he tells the guys that he doesn't understand how he got such a gorgeous person on his arm

-He will read books and watch yt videos to learn more about anorexia and how he can help

-will always keep it real with you when you start getting bad again, not in a mean way ! he just loves you and hates to see you that way

-loves to remind you of how far you've come in your relationships with food and your body

-he's had his own struggles with depression, so although he may not completely understand, he gets it

-loves to curl up on the couch with you and watch movies; he'll hand-feed you a few bites of whatever snack he's got

-he's completely obsessed with you tbh

-he often brings home your favorite takeout for dinner because it's easy and he knows he can get you to take a few bites

-always wants to remind you how beautiful you are, rarely calls you by your name; it's always "gorgeous" or "beautiful" from him

-he will also text you throughout the day; he loves to yap about how his day is going, he'll also sneak in little reminders to eat a snack of some sort

-he will celebrate every little milestone with you, no matter how small or insignificant you tell him it is(he's buying you flowers, jewelry, the whole works)

-he's just so loving with you ugh

-on days where you're feeling extra weak or tired he's so gentle with you, he spends all day coddling you and making you stay in bed while he takes care of you

#fanfic #drabbles #fluff #angst #impractical jokers #q impractical jokers #sal vulcano #james murray #joe gatto #brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #sal vulcano x reader #james murray x reader #joe gatto x reader #impractical jokers x reader #imagines #impractical jokers imagine #impractical jokers angst

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hanasnx · 1 year ago

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NOTES: for @xstarkillerx

You can't conceptualize what's wrong, a combination of things weighing you down as you seek out comfort. BRIAN O'CONNER sits at his work-table, sketching concept designs for the tweaks he'd like Tej to make. He's not a very gifted artist, but he's got the general idea down, at least until you pad onto the scene. As quiet as you are, he's learned your tells, glancing at you after he speaks, "What's up, sweetheart?" he asks, a little curl to his lips at the sight of you rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. You don't say anything, coming up to his side to fix your hands on his thigh, hoping to silently grab his attention while you wait for him to notice you. It takes him a second, but he does, gazing at you more deliberately this time. You exchange a look, and he adjusts in his seat to accommodate you while you invite yourself onto his lap.

You nestle in, tucking your head under his chin with a sigh. With an arm, he secures you, drawing you into him to get more comfortable himself, he inclines into you, curling his body around you as if you're his centerpiece. Gently, he bounces you on his leg, eyeing the tip of your nose. "S'the matter, bunny? Don't feel like talking?" You're unresponsive, you don't even look at him, and he strokes your back with his big hand. "I got it. Don't worry, I got it." Sweetly, he rubs his cheek on the top of your head, ending it with an affectionate kiss.

#indy: drabbles #ch: brian #moot: donnie #brian o’conner drabble #brian o'conner fluff #brian o'conner x reader #brian o'conner x you #brian o'conner x y/n #brian o'conner imagine #brian o'conner fic #brian o'conner fanfic #brian o'conner fanfiction #fast and furious x reader #fast and furious imagine #fast and furious fic #fast and furious fanfiction

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angeliolo · 1 month ago

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remember everything

y/n's pov

au by me and @sofisturns

˚✧⁺˳༚ smut w/ plot, oral ( f! receiving ), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, absolutely gut wrenching, heart warming

continuation of this

“you’re driving me crazy” he breathes, sliding his hands under the hem of my shirt, his cold hands sending shivers through my warm skin

“good” i reply, teasing him as a small grin creeps onto my face, but im cut off as chris attaches his lips below my ear.

i tilt my head back, allowing more room for him to attack my neck. the feeling of his kisses on my skin, alone, are enough to have me going absolutely insane. his hands suddenly creep out my shirt, along with his lips detaching from my neck.

“why’d you st-” i begin to say, as i watch chris pull of his t shirt with ease, revealing his lightly toned physique. i place my hand on his chest, tracing it around his skin slightly, as i reach up to place a soft kiss on his lips, before pulling away to take off my own top.

as i leave myself partially exposed, i paused. i wasn’t used to feeling nervous about hooking up with boys, if anything i was always confident. but this time it was different. i’d never hooked up with someone who i cared about this deeply. never with someone who i considered something more than a one time thing.

i’m snapped out of my trance by the feeling of chris brushing my hair out of my face. “you okay?”

i nod, continuing to trace my finger down his chest. “more than okay. i want this. i want you” i say, my voice soft and certain, before i wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into another kiss.

he groans into my mouth, hands sliding past my waist to grip the back of my thighs. in one fluid motion, he lifts me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. our lips stay locked as he carries me across the room, then lowers me onto my bed with a soft thud, his body following close behind, heat radiating between us.

the mattress dips under his weight as he hovers over me, bare chest brushing mine with every breath. For a second, we just look at each other, tension crackling between us—then his mouth finds mine again, this time hungry and unrestrained.

his hands roam, one cradling my jaw, the other skimming over my waist, then up my back to the clasp of my bra. I arch into him, kissing him deeper, tongue meeting his in slow, deliberate strokes that grow hotter with each pass.

“this okay?” he says, his fingers playing with my clasp. i nod, allowing him to fully leave me exposed

his breath hitches as he looks me up and down. “fuck- you’re perfect y/n.” before attacking my chest, in sloppy, yet intimate kisses .

"chris" i whisper out, propping myself up by my elbows, as i watch him pepper my stomach with little kisses, slowly trailing down to my waist.

i thread my fingers through his hair, my breaths growing heavier with each kiss he plants lower and lower. the anticipation coils tight in my stomach, every nerve in my body alive and reaching for him.

chris glances up at me through hooded eyes, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, dragging them down agonizingly slow. "this okay?" i lift my hips to help him, which was all he needed to know he was okay to continue. my body was already aching for more of him, more of his touch, more of us.

once i’m left in just my underwear, he tosses my shorts somewhere across the room without a second thought. his hands trail up the insides of my thighs, teasing, so light it’s almost maddening. i bite my lip, trying to stifle the needy whimper that builds in my throat.

“you’re driving me crazy, you know that?” chris murmurs, voice low and rough against my skin as he presses a kiss to my inner thigh, dangerously close to where i need him most.

i can’t help the small, desperate noise that escapes me, my hips twitching toward him on instinct. he chuckles under his breath, the sound vibrating against me, before he finally gives me what i’ve been silently begging for.

my head falls back against the pillows as the pleasure hits me all at once, a soft gasp leaving my lips. i can feel his hands gripping my hips firmly, anchoring me as he circles my clit, with a patience that feels both sweet and torturous. every movement, every kiss, every breath feels deliberate — like he’s savoring every second of this just as much as i am.

“chris,” i breathe out again, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other gripping the sheets beneath me like a lifeline.

he looks up at me again, eyes dark and filled with something deeper than just lust — something that has my heart racing even faster. something real.

“fuck, y/n. you're so wet, so perfect. all for me” he says softly, before diving back into my heat, devouring every inch like it was the last thing he was going to do. everything was so sloppy— so hot and messy, yet somehow, in that moment, i know he means more than just right now. he means always.

i can barely catch my breath, my body writhing beneath him as he works me over with relentless devotion. every flick of his tongue, every rough glide of his fingers against me sends sparks shooting through my veins, building a tight, desperate heat in my core that has me teetering on the edge.

“chris—” i gasp, my voice breaking around his name, my thighs trembling around his shoulders. he only grips me tighter, anchoring me to him like he knows i’m seconds away from falling apart.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs against me, the vibrations of his voice making me cry out. “let go for me. i’ve got you.”

"baby." the nickname drives me insane. his words, the way he says them — like i’m the only thing that matters — it’s too much. the pressure inside me snaps, and i come undone with a broken moan, my whole body arching off the bed, hands tugging helplessly at his hair as the pleasure crashes over me in wave after wave.

chris doesn’t let up, riding out every second of my release, his hands steady on my hips, grounding me as i tremble under his mouth. it’s overwhelming — the way he gives himself to me so completely, the way he watches me like i’m something sacred.

when i finally collapse back onto the bed, breathing hard, my body limp and buzzing with aftershocks, chris trails soft, reverent kisses up my stomach, my ribs, my chest — all the way until he’s hovering over me again, his forehead resting lightly against mine.

“you’re incredible,” he whispers, voice rough and full of awe, like he still can’t believe i’m real.

i smile lazily, still catching my breath, one hand brushing his jaw tenderly. “only because of you,” i whisper back, before pulling him into a sloppy kiss to his lips — fervent and needy, causing him to groan against my lips.

my fingers slide up over his shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles before burying in his hair, pulling him even closer. He groans into my mouth again, pressing me down against the mattress, every inch of him hot and solid against me as the kiss deepens—teeth grazing lips, breaths tangled and messy.

"can't get enough of me, huh?" he teases, breathlessly chuckling.

“i can’t leave you with a hard-on after you just gave me the best orgasm of my life,” i tease back, my voice breathless, but my heart pounding out a completely different rhythm underneath my boldness.

he grins crookedly, but it fades almost immediately into something more serious — a quiet hunger, yes, but also tenderness. love.

he leans back onto his knees between my legs, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. he hooks his thumbs in and slides them down, tossing them off the bed without ceremony. his boxers come down with them, leaving him fully exposed in the dim light.

my breath catches slightly at the sight of him, nerves and excitement tangling inside me in a messy knot. he’s beautiful — strong, a little messy, but still looking at me like i’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

he crawls back over me, the heat of his bare skin against mine making my body arch into him instinctively. he kisses me again — slow, deep, grounding — before pulling back just enough to brush my hair away from my face.

i pull away from the kiss briefly. "i've never done this before," i admit.

i can see the slight suprise on chris' face, after i admit my virginity to him. "that's okay, we don't have to," he says, cupping my face, before placing a kiss to my forehead.

"no no. i want this. i need this, if anything i need you. please"

“you sure?” he asks, his thumb stroking across my cheekbone, voice rough but steady. “we can stop whenever you want.”

i shake my head immediately, no hesitation in my chest. “i’m sure,” i whisper. “i want you. i want this… with you," i reassure him

his eyes darken even more, and he exhales shakily like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. he kisses me again, softer this time, almost reverent, and when he pulls back, his hand trails down my body — a slow, warm glide — until he’s positioning himself at my entrance.

he pauses, giving me one last moment, one last chance to back out. but there’s no fear, no second thoughts. just the two of us, tangled up in something so much bigger than just lust.

i nod, tightening my legs slightly around his waist, my hands pulling him down closer.

“okay,” he breathes out, voice barely more than a whisper. “i’ll go slow.”

he presses into me, slow and careful. i gasp at the feeling — the initial stretch a sharp, burning sting that makes my fingers clutch at his shoulders. he stills immediately, forehead resting against mine, his hand cradling the back of my neck.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” he murmurs, voice strained with how hard he’s holding himself back. “just breathe. i’ve got you.”

his words, his touch, the steady thud of his heart against my chest — it all helps, slowly relaxing my body around him. the pain dulls, replaced by a fullness that feels heavy and new, but not unbearable.

it feels like us.

when i nod again, giving him the tiniest whisper of a “move,” he does — carefully, pulling out just a little before easing back in. the rhythm is slow, tender, every movement like a vow he’s making with his body.

soon enough, the discomfort fades almost completely, replaced by a deep, building pleasure that has me tilting my hips up to meet him, a soft moan escaping my lips.

“you feel… fuck, you feel so good,” chris rasps, his hips moving a little more confidently now, though he’s still being so gentle it makes my heart ache.

his hand slides between us, finding my clit with practiced ease, circling it in time with his slow thrusts. the combination of everything — the feeling of him inside me, the way he’s touching me like i’m something fragile and precious, the quiet sounds he’s making just for me — it builds quickly, overwhelming in the best possible way.

it’s not long before i’m unraveling under him, my body clenching tight around him as i cry out his name, my orgasm crashing over me, pulling him right along with me.

he groans low in his chest, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep inside me, falling apart in my arms.

for a few seconds, neither of us moves, caught up in the aftershocks of everything we just shared.

his forehead stays pressed to mine, his breathing ragged against my skin, his hand still cradling my face like he can’t bear to let me go.

finally, he lifts his head just enough to kiss me — soft and slow and full.

“i love you,” he whispers against my mouth, voice breaking a little.

tears sting my eyes as i smile, pulling him even closer. “i love you too,” i whisper back, my voice shaking with how much i mean it.

this wasn’t just about losing my virginity.

this was about giving it — giving myself — to the only person who ever made me feel this safe, this seen, this loved.

annnnnndddd we are back! ending our hiatus with some gut wrenching smut for you guys <3 first smut i've ever written so bare with me

٠ ࣪⭑ taglist

@chrissturniolossidebitch @chrissweetheart @mothstvrnz @stvrniolotrxpl3ts @espressqe @chrepsi @samwinchesterisawhore @sonnysturns @conspiracy-ash @pair-of-pantaloons

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greengoblinswifey · 5 months ago

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Home For Christmas—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— your boyfriend, Luigi, recently extradited to New York, faces a court hearing just days before Christmas, leaving you heartbroken and unsure if he'll make it home. against all odds, he is granted bail and surprises you by coming home for Christmas.

warnings—none! lots of fluff, luigi is a sweetheart, perfect christmas ending <3

a/n— My dms and asks have been blowing up with you guys clamoring for more Luigi content, so I decided to whip something up, enjoy <3. I truly don’t believe Luigi is guilty and would’ve hoped he would be home for Christmas :( I hope he gets out soon and won’t be sentenced.

The courtroom doors creaked open, and your breath hitched as Luigi walked in, surrounded by officers. He wore a burgundy sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, its collar peeking at the edges. His dark curls framed his face perfectly, and even though he looked composed, you could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the toll of the weeks apart was evident.

His gaze scanned the room until it landed on you. His steps faltered briefly, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You felt your chest tighten as he looked at you like you were the one ray of light in an otherwise dim world.

“Amore,” he mouthed, his voice soft even though you couldn’t hear it.

You couldn’t hold back your emotions. You smiled, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over, and blew him a kiss. Luigi grinned in return, his confidence slipping back into place as though the sight of you gave him strength.

It had been weeks since you’d seen him, weeks of navigating the unbearable distance after his extradition to New York. Every call had been short, every letter cherished, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him.

When he was seated at the defendant’s table, Luigi tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “You came,” he whispered, his voice carrying an unmistakable mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

“Always,” you mouthed back.

The hearing began, the air in the room heavy as his lawyer argued for his release on bail. You knew the evidence was thin, there wasn’t enough to convict him of the CEO’s murder, but the stakes were still high. The very thought of him being sentenced, of losing him, made your heart clench.

During a brief recess, Luigi’s lawyer gestured for you to come forward. You hesitated for only a moment before making your way to the front, the officers giving you a wary glance but letting you pass.

As you approached, Luigi’s eyes softened, and he reached out slightly, his cuffed hands resting on the table. “Amore,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to hold back tears. “I missed you too, Lulu. More than anything.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m so sorry for all of this. For putting you through this. But you’ve kept me going.”

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re coming home, Luigi. I’ve talked to your lawyer, and we’ve worked everything out. The judge is going to grant bail. You’ll be home for Christmas.”

Luigi’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Two days, just two more days.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to compose himself. “You’re my everything,” he murmured. “I don’t deserve you, but I swear, I’m going to make this right. I’ll make it all right.”

Before you could respond, the bailiff called for everyone to return to their seats. You reluctantly pulled away, but not before squeezing his hand one last time.

The judge’s decision came swiftly, Luigi would be released on bail, just in time for Christmas. As the words registered, you felt the weight you’d been carrying for weeks lift. Luigi turned to you, his eyes shining with relief and love.

“Looks like I’ll get to spend Christmas with my amore,” he said, his voice soft yet triumphant.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled through your tears, nodding.

When you finally got home that evening, the reality of it all hit you. Luigi was coming home in just two days. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes as you stepped into your apartment, flicking on the lights.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree filled the living room, and you froze in your tracks. Underneath the tree, there was a mountain of neatly wrapped gifts that hadn’t been there before. You blinked in confusion until you noticed a note placed delicately on the coffee table.

It was from Luigi’s lawyer.

Amore, the note read in Luigi’s familiar handwriting. I didn’t know if I’d make it home for Christmas, so I asked someone to help me make sure you were taken care of. I wanted you to have a perfect Christmas, even if I wasn’t there to share it with you. I love you.

You smiled, your heart aching with love as you knelt by the tree. The gifts were wrapped neatly, clearly not by Luigi himself and labeled with little tags in his messy handwriting. Your favorite perfume. A set of Victoria’s Secret lingerie and a cute silk pajama set. A cashmere sweater in your favorite color. A pair of designer heels you’d been eyeing for months but would never have splurged on.

Tears welled up as you unwrapped each thoughtful gift, your fingers trembling slightly. He’d thought of everything, even when he wasn’t sure he’d be here to see you open them.

Two days later, you stood at your front door, waiting as the sound of a car pulling up outside made your heart race. When the door opened, and Luigi stepped inside, you couldn’t hold yourself back.

“Lulu!” you cried, throwing yourself into his arms.

He dropped his bag instantly, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground as he buried his face in your neck. “Amore,” he murmured, “I’m home.”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his sharp jawline. “I missed you so so much,” you whispered before pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss.

Luigi groaned softly, pulling you even closer until your feet barely touched the ground. His hands slipped to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips and giving your ass a squeeze. “I missed everything about you,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’re not allowed to leave me like that again,” you teased, your fingers threading through his curls.

He smirked, his eyes darkening slightly. “Trust me, amore. I have no intention of being away from you ever again.”

The night continued with kisses and lingering touches all over. You showed Luigi the gifts you’d gotten him, a rare set of books he’d been searching for, a sleek leather jacket that fit him perfectly, and an intimate surprise, a pair of silk boxers with pictures of your face all over it.

Luigi laughed when he opened them, pulling you onto his lap as he held the boxers up. “Really, amore?” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs.

“What? I thought you’d like them,” you said innocently, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“I love them,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he kissed your neck.

The two of you spent the night cuddled on the couch, watching Christmas movies and sharing a blanket as the tree lights twinkled softly in the background.

You turned to face him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll always wait for you, Luigi. You’re my home.”

Christmas morning was a quiet and cozy. The smell of hot chocolate and marshmallows filled the living room as you stretched out on the couch in your matching pajamas, wrapped in one of Luigi’s arms. His other hand rested on your knee, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the fabric.

“Good morning, amore,” he said, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he replied softly, his gaze warm.

Under the tree, there were more gifts to unwrap. Luigi insisted you go first, sitting back with a grin as you tore into one of his carefully wrapped presents. It was another beautifully thoughtful gift—an engraved gold bracelet with the words Sempre il mio cuore (Always my heart).

You stared at it for a moment, your chest tightening.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his tone suddenly vulnerable.

You nodded quickly, slipping it onto your wrist before throwing your arms around his neck. “I love it, Lulu. I love you.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer and pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Good. Because I saw it, and I thought of you. Always my heart, amore. Always.”

You gave him a box that held an expensive perfume set he had been eyeing but never expected to have. Another had a small, vintage journal with an inscription from yourself inside the front cover, For the stories you’ll write one day.

The next gift made him grin even wider, a vintage Italian cookbook, filled with recipes you knew he loved.

“You spoil me,” he teased, leaning over to kiss you softly.

“Now I can teach you how to make the perfect lasagna,” he teased, flipping through the pages before looking up at you. “Thank you, amore. This is perfect.”

The day passed in a happy blur of laughter and kisses. You spent the afternoon in the kitchen, making Luigi’s favorite Italian dish, spaghetti alla carbonara, while he stayed close by, sneaking bites of the ingredients and kissing your cheek whenever he passed.

“You're going to burn the pasta if you keep distracting me,” you warned, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

“Let it burn,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I’d rather taste you than the pasta anyway.”

“Luigi!” you protested, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

Dinner was perfect, and afterward, the two of you curled up on the couch with a plate of cookies you’d baked together. The promise ring on your finger glinted in the light of the tree as Luigi traced the outline of it with his thumb.

“Do you know why I got you that?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet.

You glanced at him, your head resting on his chest. “Why?”

“Because I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m yours. Forever,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “Even when things got bad, when I was in a prison cell, all I thought about was you. You’re the reason I fought so hard to come home.”

Your throat tightened with emotion, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re my home too, Luigi.”

The night ended with the two of you wrapped up in each other, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows over the room. Luigi held you close, his hand tangled in your curls as he murmured sweet nothings in Italian.

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so safe, so loved.

For the first time in a long time, Christmas felt like it should, celebration of love, laughter, and the promise of a future you’d both fight for.

465 notes · View notes

dollylvr · 4 months ago

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Brian “Q” Quinn x Reader

mood board ₊˚⊹ᰔ

#brian quinn x reader #brian quinn #moodboard #impractical jokers #x reader #love #brown #cats #brian quinn fluff #brian quinn angst #brian quinn smut

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hyucksos · 20 days ago

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life's a peach! — kang younghyun

pairing: kang younghyun x f!reader genre: slice of life, village boy x city girl, childhood friends (to enemies) to lovers, fluff, angst, romance, slow burn wc: 14.1k synopsis: after being let go from your job, you return to your grandparents' village of pyoseon to figure things out. you had come in hopes of finding peace, but instead, you're faced with unexpected reunions, a whole lot of unresolved feelings, and far too many what-ifs. thirty was supposed to be a restart, but now... it feels more like a rewind— and standing in the middle of it all, is kang younghyun. as much as the man gets on your nerves, you soon start to realise that maybe, home isn't where you go— it's who you go back to.

A little over a month ago, you would’ve thought you’d be spending the beginning of your thirties in the best way possible— sipping on cocktails in Copacabana, basking in the glow of the Paris lights… maybe even celebrating in first class with a glass of champagne.

Instead, here you are, in a sun-scorched field in the middle of nowhere, wearing overalls two sizes too big and your hair sticking to your nape in a sweaty mess.

And to top it off, you’re completely covered in cow dung. From head to toe.

You glower at the absolute menace before you, the one responsible for the situation you’re in. The asshole even has the audacity to look amused, his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“Kang Younghyun,” you mutter lowly, your gloved fingers already fisting the mud around you. “You have five seconds to run.”

He coughs to conceal his chuckle. “I mean-“

“Five.”

Younghyun yelps before he bolts away, and you immediately take off after him. “You coward! Come back here!”

The sound of his boisterous laughter as he sprints down the road is mocking, and you’re left screaming his name while simultaneously hoping that he’d trip over a rock and plant his stupid, handsome face to the ground.

Thirty was supposed to treat you well, but instead, you got… whatever the hell this is— the pitiful remnants of your life served to you in a dog bowl, with a side of Kang Younghyun.

You don’t think you could ever recover from this.

I. [YOU, THIRTY SECONDS AWAY FROM A MELTDOWN]

You’ve been told that hitting the big three would be a bit like being reborn, a chance to get a fresh start and to leave your past self behind in your twenties… or at least, according to Wonpil, it was. He wasn’t exactly a wild child back in the day, so you weren’t sure where all of this was coming from, but regardless you still decided to take his advice with a spoonful of trust— not only because he’s your best friend, but because you believed in his mantra too.

There’s been some talk going around about a promotion, and with you having worked for this airline for a good seven years now, you know the title of Senior Flight Attendant is practically within reach. You’re ready to enter your thirties with a clean slate, a sharper uniform, and the kind of certainty that maybe, everything was finally falling into place—

Except it isn’t.

“We’re letting you off.”

The smile fades from your lips slightly, and the room settles in a pin-drop silence as you process the words that left your supervisor’s lips.

“I’m sorry?”

“The airline is going through some budget cuts, so we’ve got no choice but to let some people go,” he explains robotically, as though he’s reading off a script. Your heart starts to thump in your ears as the weight of the situation finally settles in, and your smile wipes off completely. “This has nothing to do with you, obviously. You’ve been a great worker and contributed much to the company-“

“So you’re firing me?”

Your supervisor stutters. “Well- you will be getting severance pay. And some additional farewell benefits as compensation. That aside, we’re extremely sorry to let you go. We wish you the best in your future endeavours.”

He bows slightly, and you don’t stop the humourless chuckle that escapes your lips.

Even as you step out of his office, your termination letter already crumpled under the tight grip of your hand, you refuse to fully acknowledge the dread in the pit of your stomach— not until you reach home, and you’re dialling for the one person who could help you make sense of this entire situation.

As usual, Wonpil is all smiles as he picks up, but it instantly disappears when he sees your face. “Wow. Did you get fired or something?”

You flop onto your couch, tossing your blazer aside. “That obvious?”

Your best friend gapes, but he quickly recovers. “Wha- are you serious? What happened?”

“Said the company’s downsizing… or whatever.” You shrug as you stare blankly at the ceiling, and you sense Wonpil shift through the screen. With it being a weekday afternoon, he’s probably still at work, but you couldn’t find it in you to care for disturbing him. “What should I do, Pil?”

“Hey, don’t worry too much. You’ll find a new job in no time! You’ve got the experience and the skillset. Just take this as a stepping stone towards a better opportunity. A silver lining, you know?”

You glance at your phone, and Wonpil is already grinning at you through the screen. You know that’s just the teacher in him talking, and right now, you feel like one of his students after failing a test. Wonpil has always been supportive, so despite your own dejection, you find it in you to smile at him weakly. “Thanks, Pil.”

And even though you’re not really confident in his words, you’re still grateful for his optimism, and maybe some of that is just what you need.

II. IT’S YOUR THIRTIETH DAY OF REJECTION.

You don’t think being optimistic could help you out of this rut.

You’ve been applying to countless of other airlines, only to be rejected by most of them— the rest hadn’t even bothered to reply.

You know what it is, and it’s the harsh truth you’re only beginning to swallow. Age bias has always been prevalent in your industry, and even though you know you’re nowhere near being a grandma, it’s likely the reason why you aren’t getting any offers.

Wonpil has been by your side throughout, though it’s mostly just been you pathetically moping around while he tries to talk you into trying something else— like a job at the airport lounge (seeing your ex-colleagues would only make you miserable) or concierge at a hotel (serving foreign pilots and flight attendants would make you even more).

Which is why, after much debating (not like you were left with much of a choice whatsoever), you landed yourself a job at a café. Basic, but simple, and safe.

The only problem is that you hate it.

It’s only been a few shifts, and you know you wouldn't be able to last any longer. Even though serving people coffee is technically still a customer service job, there’s just something about the mind-numbing repetition of it that makes you itch to walk out the door.

And so, you do.

“Are you serious?” Wonpil scoffs. “You’ve dealt with entitled businessmen and screaming toddlers thousands of feet in the air, but a little coffee spill is where you draw the line?”

“You think I want this to happen?” You grumble in frustration, avoiding his gaze as you busy yourself with the loose thread on your sleeve. “I just can’t, Pil, okay? Gosh, maybe what I need is a break.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. You could use the tickets the airline gave you to go somewhere. Figure things out," he suggests.

“Please,” you scoff. “That pathetic thing they call a severance package barely does me any good. You think I’d have a good time overseas knowing my wallet is shrinking?”

“Then maybe you should visit your grandparents, or something.”

A few beats pass as you let his words hang in the air, and your eyes widen with sudden realisation. “Wonpil, you’re a genius,” you whisper before turning back to him, and he only furrows his brows in confusion. “I could rent out my apartment for a few months while I stay in Jeju— to figure things out, like you said. That way I could make money without actually having to work!”

“I mean, I guess…” Unlike what you’ve been expecting, your best friend looks uneasy with your idea, and before you could ask him why, Wonpil continues, “it’s just- if you’re planning on staying there for that long, are you sure you could actually do it? I mean, village life. It’s no joke for city people like us.”

You roll your eyes. “Relax. I visited my grandparents a lot when I was little. And like you said— if I could deal with entitled businessmen and screaming toddlers in the air, a little sun and farming wouldn’t hurt me.”

“What if someone spills coffee on you?”

You nod solemnly. “Then I’ll know for sure that I was never meant to work a day in my life.”

III. THE WEATHER SAYS IT’S THIRTY DEGREES OUTSIDE. The humidity of Jeju-do is quick to catch up to you the moment you step off the plane, and by the time you manage to drag your bags to the taxi stand outside the airport, you're already slick with sweat, with your hair stuck to your neck and makeup halfway down your face.

And because the universe seems to hate you (you haven't gotten a single stroke of good luck since the day you got sacked), there aren't any taxis around.

Not a single one. Of course.

You take in a deep breath before trudging towards the bus stop, the wheels of your luggage squeaking pathetically behind you. No matter— you aren't about to let a little hiccup get in the way of your retreat when it's barely just started. Even if it would take around another two hours for you to reach Pyoseon-ri by bus, and even if the smell of manure in the air is beginning to cloud your judgement and make you wonder if moving on impulse was a good idea to begin with.

Still, you're adamant on not letting up so soon. You make sure to greet the driver when you board the bus, make sure to smile at the other passengers apologetically as you struggle to haul your luggage up the steps.

The driver doesn't wait for you before he floors the pedal, and that sends you crashing into a random stranger's shoulder. No one reacts. The stranger doesn't even blink.

You let out a slow exhale. Maybe Wonpil did have a point.

✦ ✦ ✦

By the time the bus wheezes to a stop, you're exhausted and completely out of it. Still, you can't help but to marvel at the sights around you as you alight, and it brings a certain warmth to your chest.

Pyoseon looks exactly like how you remember it, with its stone-lined streets that stretches on for miles on end and clear, vast skies you don't get to appreciate in Seoul. The old convenience store you used to frequent still stands, painted walls still chipped and red sign still faded. You spot the tiny, two-room clinic at the corner where you once cried over a scraped knee. It's also the same place you brought in an injured baby chick you found at the side of the road.

You pause for a moment, just standing there as you take in the village. Barely nothing has changed, and you think that's what throws you off the most. After years of chasing new cities, new skies, new routines... it's disorienting to return to a place seemingly still frozen in time.

You grip the handle of your bag tighter before making your way to the village hall. With your grandfather being the village chief, it's the place he'd most likely be at, and at this timing, you figure he'd probably be doing something... mayor-y. Whatever that meant.

The gravel crunches under your shoes as you trudge down the narrow path, and you're becoming increasingly aware of the curious glances and murmurs thrown your way as you near the village hall. You're not sure if people remember you, but one thing's for sure is that you hadn't prepared yourself for any kind of attention at all.

You let out a soft sigh of relief when the familiar one-story building comes into view, and there's loud chatter coming from somewhere behind it— probably the other village elders lounging around on the pyeongsang under the big zelkova tree. The thought of making a sudden appearance sounds awkward— another thing you hadn't accounted for— but when you hear the undeniable sound of your grandfather's laughter echoing in the air, you know you're not really left with any other option.

So you round the corner— and that's when it happens.

SPLASH!

A torrent of water hits you square in the chest, soaking you from the neck down. You don't even register your luggage tipping over as you stand there, dripping, jaw on the floor.

"Oh, crap, I'm so-"

The voice pauses, and you look up at the culprit: a too-tall, too-familiar guy with a bucket still dangling from one hand. You only barely manage to catch the panic on his features before he's squinting at you, and that's when you finally realise—

"Peach?"

"Younghyun?!"

You say at the same time.

He laughs, his hand lowering to his side. "No way. It's really you, huh? The princess of Seoul who swore she'd never come back. Welcome home, Your Highness."

You chuckle humourlessly. "That's rich, coming from you. Not everyone gets to run away to Europe and come crawling back like they never left."

Despite your blatant jab, he grins in response, shameless and insufferable as ever.

And yet another thing you hadn't accounted for— freaking Kang Younghyun. If you'd told Wonpil just how unprepared you are for this trip, you're sure he'd have a heart attack.

The last time you saw the village boy had to be almost ten years ago, before your visits to Jeju started to grow less frequent as you got older and busier. Last you heard, he'd stayed, all up until the last couple of times you visited and he wasn't around. Your grandfather had said something about him working on his masters overseas, and you'd scoffed at that— mainly because of how ironic it was. Kang Younghyun, the boy who used to tease you relentlessly for being too "city-fied" had gone off and did the most city thing of all. Left for a higher education. Abroad.

And now he's back. And so are you.

He's still the same as you remember, with mischief tucked into the curve of his smile and a teasing glint in his eyes. He still has the same thick eyebrows you used to make fun of, and dimples that would appear on both cheeks whenever he smiled too wide, but something about him feels different too.

He's gotten taller. Broader. The sharp lines of his jaw are more defined now, with cheekbones you don't remember being that sharp. You hate that you even notice the glint of sweat on his sun-kissed skin, and you're quick to dispose that thought. Because you hate Kang Younghyun, and you'd rather not admit that he's gotten kind of... stupidly good looking.

"There you are!"

Grandpa appears behind Younghyun, waving as though nothing is amiss. He barely even glances at your drenched state, patting Younghyun on his back.

You scowl. Your first day here, and your own blood is already favouring that smug asshole over you.

"Younghyun-ah, be a dear and give her a ride back home, would you? She must be tired from the journey."

You gape. "Wha- Grandpa, I'm drenched."

"Mm, you'll dry. Help yourself to the food in the fridge and come back here once you're rested, okay? Your grandma will be thrilled to see you once she returns from the district's women's council meeting." The old man is already walking back towards the village hall, but not before patting your head on the way. He glances over his shoulder. "Bicycle's around the back!"

You stand there in stunned silence before turning back to Younghyun, who's already grinning at you like an idiot. He gestures towards the tree behind him, where an old, rusted bicycle leans against the bark.

"Oh, no." You almost laugh at how absurd the situation you're in. "Oh, no, no."

"You heard the man, Peach," Younghyun adds cheekily. "Hop on."

You glower at him. "I'd rather walk barefoot through cactus than get on that thing with you."

Younghyun only laughs, like he knows you're playing a losing game. And he's right, because five minutes later you're clinging to the back of the bicycle, left hand gripping onto the handle of your luggage tightly as you let it drag along the gravel, while Younghyun pedals lazily like it's the most amusing thing that's happened to him all week. You don't even need to look at his face to know that he's grinning widely.

"So, still sweet on peaches?" He asks casually. You can practically hear the smirk in his tone.

"Shut up."

He laughs again.

IV. EVERYTHING IS ABSOLUTELY PEACHY... NOT. You return to the village hall later that night in an old t-shirt and a pair of floral pants you snagged from your grandmother’s wardrobe. You figure if you’re going to be staying in the countryside, you might as well look the part, though you find that it did little to help ease the turmoil in your heart. You think it has something to do with Pyoseon and everything to do with yourself— and annoyingly, maybe just a little to do with Kang Younghyun’s smug face greeting you at every turn.

You scowl at him before he could say anything, shoving past him by the door and into the living area where some of the village elders are lounging. You instantly spot your grandmother, mid-conversation before her eyes land on you, and she immediately beams.

“My granddaughter!” She immediately stands up to engulf you in a hug, and despite yourself you find yourself smiling. Grandma has always been one to dote on you, and after the terrible first-half of the day you just had, a little comfort is just what you need.

She pulls back just enough to study your face. “Oh, look at you! Have you not been eating? Sleeping? Aish, I keep telling you to take care of yourself! Whatever it is, I’m glad you’re here to stay now, sweetheart. You need some real food in your system to make up for all those years of flying around.”

Someone snickers in the background, and you turn to see Younghyun, leaning against the doorframe casually with his arms crossed.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Something funny?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just- you’d think a city girl would’ve upgraded her diet by now. Still running on iced tea and whatever’s closest to the microwave?”

You laugh sharply. “Stop acting like you know me, Younghyun.”

“Oh, but he does, doesn’t he? You two used to be so close!” Grandma pipes in unhelpfully, and you turn back to her with warning eyes. Not like she noticed whatsoever. “How much I struggled to keep you at home because you’re always running off with this boy doing God knows what. And that peach orchard you kids used to frequent so much-"

“Okay, Grandma.” You force out a smile through clenched teeth, easing yourself out from her hold as you join the other elders on the floor, face burning for some reason.

“Ignore him. He’s just messing with you.” One of the elders pats your hand mindlessly before turning back to the group. “But enough talk about that. Where were we?”

“Ah, yes. The signboards! We need to retrieve them from storage to get them painted. The tent materials can wait until we’re done with housekeeping, so until then, let’s focus on cleaning up the area.”

You blink before whispering to the old lady. “What are we talking about?”

“The annual harvest festival, my dear! You remember, don’t you? We’re doing a big event this year— food stalls, performances. The whole village is coming together!”

Your lips part as you nod. After all these years, you’d forgotten about the harvest festival that takes place in the summer every year. You’d attended a couple of times back when you were younger, but your visits were never long enough where you actually got to help with the preparations beforehand.

There were a lot of food, and lanterns, and dancing— that much you could recall, and you vaguely remember failing miserably at ring toss while Younghyun laughed at you. Subconsciously, you glance at him, only to find him already looking at you with a lopsided grin on his lips.

You turn away.

“Well, now that we have an extra pair of hands, it seems that we have nothing to worry about this year, do we?” Grandpa appears from the kitchen. “Don’t underestimate my granddaughter. She may be a city girl but she’s a tough one.” He grins at you, and the compliment makes you smile.

“Good! Then you and Younghyun can get started on washing the sheets tomorrow.”

Your smile instantly drops. “Me and who now.”

Grandma ignores you. “Our machines aren’t able to handle the load, so you’d have to do it by hand. Don’t worry, Younghyun will guide you through it!”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you mutter, though it falls on deaf ears.

The elders are quick to move on, chattering about what needs to be done for the festival preparations. You lean on your hands with a sigh, until you feel someone settle in the empty space next to you.

“So, looks like it’s me and you tomorrow, Peach.”

You don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s smirking. Younghyun slides something towards you, and you glance down to see that it’s a bottle of peach tea. You narrow your eyes at it suspiciously, and he laughs.

“Relax. It’s not like I poisoned it. Consider this a peace offering for earlier. Plus, thought it suited you.”

You turn to smile pleasantly at him, purposely batting your eyelashes. “Because I’m sweet?”

Younghyun leans in, his voice teasing. “Because you bruise easy.”

You instantly scowl, and Younghyun laughs heartily as he stands up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess. If we finish on time, we could even go disturb Grandpa Han at his orchard like we used to.”

“I hope you choke.”

"That's the spirit," he coos, patting your head before whistling his way out.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated a person more.

V. PEACHY CLEAN! OR SO YOU THOUGHT. The sun is high by the time you reach the courtyard of the village hall, shades resting on the bridge of your nose and a popsicle in hand. You don't stop the pleased smile that graces your lips when your eyes land on Younghyun, looking pathetic with his back to you as he hunches over a large basin, elbow-deep in soapy water.

"You seem to be hard at work."

He only spares you a glance over his shoulder. "You see, I am a man of my word. Unlike somebody over here."

You roll your eyes wordlessly, finishing the last of your popsicle before squatting down next to him. You've never washed a whole bedsheet with your hands before— not like Younghyun needed to know, obviously. All you had to do was spin it around in soap a few times before washing it out with water. Can't be that hard, right?

"Fill this one with water so I can rinse it out," he instructs, nodding towards the red basin to his left. You decide to swallow down your complaint about how you'd just squatted down, getting back on your feet to step to the faucet begrudgingly. You pick up the hose lazily, angling it to the basin next to Younghyun before turning the tap on. If you're being completely honest, this seems like a one-person job, one Younghyun looks totally capable of doing on his own, but you wouldn't be surprised if the only reason you're here is because he wants to see you miserable.

You squint at his back, the man clearly unaware of you throwing daggers at him as he continues to scrub the bedsheets with his hands. You note the way his brows furrow in concentration, the flex of his muscles with every wring, and the droplet of sweat formed on his temple...

You smirk.

"Say, Younghyun?"

"Hm?" He hums in reply, clearly too distracted to catch your overly-sweet tone.

You don't say anything as you flick your wrist, and in an instant the water from the hose arcs through the air, hitting him square in the back and soaking the fabric of his shirt.

Your grin grows wider. "Oops."

Younghyun freezes, far too long for it to be comfortable than you'd like to admit, before he lets out a low chuckle. He stands up slowly, but he doesn't face you yet.

"Peach."

Your smile falters slightly, but you tilt your chin upwards. "What?"

He finally turns to you, jaw tight and face devoid of any humour. He's dripping from the neck down, similar to how you were yesterday, and you can't help the satisfaction that blooms in your chest. Even if it's at the expense of you potentially getting killed by Kang Younghyun in the next five seconds.

He takes a step forward, and you don't wait for him to say anything else before you drop the hose, making a run for it. Unfortunately for you, Younghyun is fast— of course he is— because the next thing you know, you feel yourself get yanked backwards harshly towards his chest, and he doesn't even hesitate before drenching you with the hose.

"Let go of me, you freak!" You shriek as the ice-cold water hits you, thrashing against his hold.

Younghyun laughs— completely loud and completely unbothered— the running hose still in one hand while the other grips on to your waist tightly.

"Should've thought of that before you decided to mess with me, Princess."

"You splashed me first, asshole!"

“To which I gave you a peace offering! A peach offering, if you will-"

"Yah! What are you two doing?”

The both of you freeze. Younghyun is the first to let you go, and you slip slightly on the wet ground. He steadies you by the wrist.

“Didn't I tell you these needed to be done before noon, boy?” One of the elders squint at you and Younghyun from afar. “And you still have to collect the signboards from the old storage hut, remember? Now you’re behind!”

You tense, parting your lips to utter out an apology (since this was clearly a two-man disaster), but Younghyun beats you to it.

“Sorry, Grandpa. That’s on me. I’ll get it done.” He bows his head, water still dripping from his bangs.

The old man grumbles under his breath before walking off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, glancing at Younghyun awkwardly. “I-“

"You should go dry off,” he mutters, almost casually as he wrings his own shirt. "Before you catch a cold and blame me for the rest of your life."

You’re still stunned, but you still find it in you to scoff. “What, so you’re kicking me off sheet duty now?”

"Peach, I'm serious." Younghyun finally looks at you, and it's an expression you're not quite familiar with. He hands you a towel from one of the baskets. “Go. I'll finish the rest, okay?"

You want to make a sarcastic remark about him caring for you, but you bite your tongue, accepting the towel wordlessly instead. Younghyun goes back to tending to the sheets (but not before shooting you a wink, of course; that idiot), and you’re left staring at his back while your heart thumps wildly in your chest.

You’re not sure what this feeling is. Some of it has to be guilt, you believe. A small part of you is grateful, and the rest…

The rest, you think you’d rather not acknowledge.

VI. IF ONLY YOUR PAST IS AS FUZZY AS YOU FEEL. You lean against the windowsill of the village hall, phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder as you watch the quiet afternoon roll by. Chickens cluck in the distance, the occasional breeze rustles the trees, and the scent of freshly-cut grass wafts lazily in.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ve developed a healthy loathing for dirt and manual labour. And the fact that freaking Kang Younghyun insists on making my life a living hell every single day, but apart from that it’s not all bad, I guess,” you mutter. “Better than being jobless in Seoul.”

“You? Hating manual labour? Shocking,” Wonpil chuckles. “You know, I still don’t know what happened between you and that guy. I mean, didn’t you have a crush on him for like, half your life-“

“Shut up,” you hiss, glancing around to make sure no one had heard. Fortunately, nobody else is in the kitchen besides you, the elders all gathered in living room. “I was young and stupid, okay?”

“You were twenty.”

You don’t respond immediately. Speak of the Devil— your eyes fleet to Younghyun’s figure outside as he hauls some crates onto the back of a small truck, his hair swept back messily and shirt clinging to his back with sweat.

Still irritatingly attractive, unfortunately.

“It’s… it’s stupid,” you mumble, looking away. “We were good friends. Until we weren’t.”

Wonpil is quiet for a beat. “He broke your heart?”

You inhale sharply, your mind instantly going back to that one fateful night, many summers ago. It’s been ten years, yet the memory still plays fresh in your mind like it’s just happened yesterday.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow,” Younghyun mutters, hands stuffed in his pockets as you walk side by side. It’s dark, the two of you having spent the whole day outside, and now he’s walking you home. You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t want to go back.

“Uni starts in a week. I have to prepare,” you reply just as quietly, as though going any louder would contribute to the growing tension in the air between you two.

“Yeah, but-“ Younghyun stops walking suddenly, moving to stand in front of you. “Couldn’t you- I don’t know- stay till then? Your parents have to be okay with that, right? Hey, maybe if I talk to them, they’d give in.”

He grins down at you boyishly, but you could still make out the hopefulness in his voice. Stupid Kang Younghyun. If only he knew how the sight of his smile alone is already enough to convince you to stay. Hell, even his stupid beach blond dyed hair that’s constantly unkempt and constantly needed to be held back with that stupid bandanna of his is making you reluctant to leave, no matter how much you make fun of him for it.

You think that’s just because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

"I'll come visit. I promise."

His smile grows softer, and he raises a hand to tuck a loose hair behind your ear. "I know, Peach."

You bite your inner lip, your heart thumping erratically at the nickname. You've always called him out for it, you think it's stupid and childish, but Younghyun has never agreed to let down. "You've made me climb peach trees for you since we were kids, and your cheeks always grow pink when I call you that. What else should I call you if not Peach?" He'd say, and that'd shut you up every time.

Tonight, however, you can't help but feel like there's more to it. Like a certain weight neither of you is willing to acknowledge.

His fingers linger on your skin, and you don't miss the way his eyes fleet to your lips. It makes your breath hitch, the way it always does when you catch him staring at you for too long but not doing anything about it.

So right now, you do. You lean in first, pressing a hesitant kiss to his lips. It's clumsy, but it's soft, and just as you think he's about to meet you halfway, Younghyun pulls away.

“I- we shouldn't have done that," he mutters, just before you could say anything. He avoids your gaze as he runs a hand through his hair, and you scoff softly.

"Really?" You whisper, taking a step back. "Seriously, Younghyun, why do you keep doing that?"

He finally looks at you, his expression passive and not at all like the boy you thought you knew.

"You think I don't see the way you look at me? Like- like I'm the only girl in the world that's worth your time? You think I don't notice whenever you want to kiss me, only to hold yourself back at the last second because you're scared?"

Younghyun chuckles dryly. "Don't flatter yourself."

His words hit you like a slap, and anger courses through your veins. "What- so you're telling me none of these ever mattered to you? That I don't mean anything to you?"

"I never said that," Younghyun cuts you off, his voice low. "You don't get to do that, okay? You don't get to leave, only to come back and pretend like nothing's changed. I'm not about to be a chapter you come back to when things get boring."

"Is that really what you think of me?" You ask, voice trembling slightly. Younghyun stays quiet, and that's about all the answers you needed.

"Fuck you, Younghyun," you laugh slightly, wiping the tears that are already streaming down your cheeks. "You know, just because you're mad that some people can make it in the city and you can't, doesn't mean you get to take it out on me. You asshole."

You meant to hurt him, and you know you did, with the way he clenches his jaw at your words. Still, he scoffs humourlessly as he takes a step back, and in that moment, you know you're about to lose him.

"Then I guess we were never meant to be in the first place."

"Yikes."

"Yeah. But it's whatever. I'm over it."

"Really? Because it sounds like there's still some pent-up resentment-"

"I'm over it, Pil."

Wonpil pauses. "Alright, fine, yeah. Anyway, your birthday's in a few days. Thirty's supposed to be a fresh start, remember? Do you have anything planned yet?"

You scoff. "Maybe I'll go down to the farm and smear myself with cow dung."

"You're gonna jinx yourself."

"Whatever," you mutter, turning around as you push yourself off the wall, only to still when your eyes land on Younghyun, already looking at you with a brow raised.

"Hello?"

"I'll call you back," you mumble before ending the call. You clear your throat, crossing your arms as nonchalantly as you could. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear you want to smear yourself with cow shit. I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Peach."

"Shut up." Your cheeks burn as you move to leave, but Younghyun blocks your path.

You look up to glare at him. "What?"

"I have to go to the local market to deliver some crates." He shrugs. "Wanna go for a drive?"

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

He chuckles. "Seriously, how low do you think of me?"

"Can't blame me for thinking that now, can you?" You blurt, and a flicker of something flashes across Younghyun's face. Before he could say anything, you beat him to it. "Fine. Lead the way."

You're surprised that he remains quiet after that, and for a moment you let yourself dwell on the possibility that maybe, he remembers that night just as vividly as you do.

Younghyun swings the door of his truck open for you, which you respond with a glare.

He grins at you cheekily. ”Knew you liked my company, Peach."

And just like that, the moment is ruined.

✦ ✦ ✦

It's a short drive to the market. You'd tried not to enjoy the scenery too much— you knew Younghyun would be smug about it— but it was nice nonetheless. It reminded you of the drives you used to take with Grandpa when you'd follow him around to run errands, though most of the time you'd stay inside his truck to admire the stretches of farmland and clusters of wildflowers along the road.

The locals wave at Younghyun as he backs up into the unloading area, and you hop off as soon as he puts the truck in park. You don't wait for him to tell you to unload the crates (you're not really keen on a repeat of the bedsheet incident), greeting the uncle at the delivery bay as you get to work.

"Hey- what are you doing? Let me do it." Younghyun appears beside you, taking the crate from your hands effortlessly before he sets it on the ground.

You raise your brows. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"No. I only asked you if you wanted to tag along, not to get you to do manual labour. These are heavy, Peach."

You huff, crossing your arms. "What, just because I'm a woman-"

"Princess," Younghyun sighs, turning to face you. "I asked you to come because I wanted your company, not because I needed a second pair of arms. So just... sit there and look pretty, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, though you can't fight the heat that's beginning to creep up your neck. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He grins, already turning back to unload the rest of the crates. "Pretty privilege. Take advantage of it."

"You're actually insufferable."

"So I've heard."

"Aigoo, I've always known you two would get together eventually," the uncle muses as he helps Younghyun. "Only took a couple of years, huh boy?"

"I- we're not together," you utter stiffly.

"Really? Then why don't you go do something about it?" The uncle smacks the back of Younghyun's head lightly before he turns to you. "Do you know how grumpy this boy's been since you left town? I haven't seen him smile this widely in years."

"Uncle," Younghyun groans as he rubs his head. "I'm not gonna deliver your fish for you anymore. I don't want to."

"Quit sulking, boy. It's not cute." The older man rolls his eyes. "But, little lady, since you're here, Grandpa Han just delivered a fresh batch of peaches earlier. Go get some for the drive back, okay?”

You don't know whether to be impressed or embarrassed that practically everybody remembers of your little... obsession, with the fruit, but you nod and thank him regardless. You don't wait to see if Younghyun follows you before you wander into the market, mostly keen on getting away from him before he could notice the rising blush on your cheeks.

The marketplace is bustling with people, but not in a way that overwhelms you. If anything, the crowd kind of reminds you of home, except here, everybody seems to know who you are.

“Isn’t that the chief’s granddaughter?” Someone murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear as you pass.

“Oh, you’ve grown so pretty! Just like your mother.” One aunty beams, stopping you as she reaches out to squeeze your arm affectionately. “I’m sure your grandparents must be so happy you’re back for good!”

“Um, I-“

“Excuse us, Aunty, sorry. We’ve got a delivery schedule to keep.” Younghyun suddenly appears next to you, his hand finding the small of your back as he gives the lady a polite smile.

“Oh, Younghyun-ah! Don’t forget, I need you to fix my gate for me!”

“Will do!” He calls out over his shoulder as he gently steers you away, and you could only afford to blink.

“Quite the talk of the town, aren’t you?” He bends down to whisper teasingly in your ear, to which you quickly shove him away.

“Shut up,” you mutter. You try not to notice the warmth that disappears from your back when he drops his hand.

You spot the fruit vendor at the end of the market, but just as you’re about to head towards it, a small stall tucked between two others catches your eye first. You find yourself making a beeline towards it instead.

The table set up is filled with handmade trinkets and an assortment of dried tea leaf pouches— basically stupidly cute handmade stuff you rarely ever see in the city. You don’t stop the soft smile that makes its way to your lips as you pick one up— a small hand-sewn pouch stamped with tiny peaches.

“If you buy one of these necklaces, I’ll give you the pouch for free.”

You smile at the uncle as your eyes fleet across the jewellery display, all dainty chains with pressed flowers encased in resin as charms.

“They’re all so beautiful,” you murmur.

“Each one has their own meaning. Like this one.” He picks one up. “The chrysanthemum symbolises health and good fortune. Or if you’re looking to get a gift for a friend, the sunflower would be a good pick,” the uncle explains before he looks at someone next to you, and that’s when you notice Younghyun’s been there all along. “What about you, son? Looking for something?”

Younghyun gives him a dimpled smile, shaking his head. “Just looking around.”

You thank the uncle, telling him you’ll come back another time. It’s almost lunchtime, and you figure you should probably get back soon to help Grandma get started on food prep.

You don’t realise that Younghyun’s stayed rooted to his spot as you wander off towards the fruit stall, his gaze fixed on your back.

“You sure you’re not looking for anything?” The uncle muses knowingly.

Younghyun turns to him, a small chuckle escaping his lips. His gaze drops down to the display again, scanning each charm carefully until one in particular catches his eye.

“This one.” He points towards the purple one, neatly pressed with its petals still intact. “What does it mean?”

“Ah, the lilac.” The uncle nods as he picks the chain up. “This one’s for first love.”

There’s a pause. Younghyun’s eyes flick to you once again, blissfully unaware, talking to the fruit stall vendors as you carefully pick out your peaches.

A faint smile touches his lips as he nods.

“Wrap it, please,” he tells the uncle, softer this time as he takes out his wallet. He makes sure the necklace is packed safely in the peach-patterned pouch he saw you eyeing earlier before pocketing it.

It’s just a small thing, Younghyun tells himself. A mindless gesture. A gift for your upcoming birthday which he still remembers after all these years. Or, if he wants to be honest with himself— a silent apology for all the things he’d left unsaid. For the way he hurt you on purpose before you left.

Maybe it’s foolish. Hell, maybe it’s even too late.

But if a flower could say what he never could, he figures it’s a start.

VII. THIRTY, FLIRTY DIRTY, AND… NOT THRIVING.

It's your birthday.

Grandpa had also tasked you to work at the farm today.

He'd said something about cleaning out the cowshed, as the farmer was down with a flu. What he failed to mention was that you'd be working with Younghyun— though at this point, you're not even surprised anymore.

So that is how you find yourself at the farm at the far end of Pyoseon, arms folded across your chest as you wait for Younghyun to lead all the cows out into the pasture. You narrow your eyes at him as he works, looking far too chipper for someone who’s about to be surrounded by animal shit.

You don’t like how the sight of his grin is making your heart accelerate.

Wanting something else to do, you quickly grab the shovel leaning by the wall before stepping into the shed. Your nose scrunches at the smell— it’s warm, earthy, and a little too natural for your liking. Not like you’re left with a choice, anyway. You hesitate slightly before stepping into the first stall, the floor caked with straw, mud, and… well, the obvious.

You clench your teeth as you slowly manoeuvre between the piles, the mud squelching with every step you take. The sound makes you cringe.

And as if you’re not overstimulated enough, the straps of Grandpa’s overalls he’d loaned you keeps sliding off one shoulder, and his old rubber boots which are at least two sizes too big feel like they’re actively plotting against you.

You groan, pausing to hitch the fabric higher while you adjust your foot in the boot, all while hoping you could make it out of here unscathed.

You don’t hear him approach.

“Boo.”

You scream. And promptly lose your footing.

And the next thing you know, you’re on your butt, right in the middle of a particularly wet patch of cow dung. A few beats passes as you process the situation, and you look up to glower at the absolute menace before you. The asshole even has the audacity to look amused, his shoulders shaking as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“Kang Younghyun,” you mutter lowly, your gloved fingers already fisting the mud around you. “You have five seconds to run.”

He coughs to conceal his chuckle. “I mean-“

“Five.”

Younghyun yelps before he bolts away, and you immediately take off after him. “You coward! Come back here!”

You slip a little in your boots as you chase him, but you think it’s the pure fury that fuels you to catch up to him. Younghyun is fast— damn him— but you’re faster when you’re angry.

You soon catch up to him, and with a warrior’s scream you launch yourself onto his back.

“Wha-?”

Somehow, by some ungodly miracle, Younghyun doesn’t fall. He does stumble once, but he quickly recovers as he readjusts his grip on your legs, all while he continues to run for his life— with you clinging on to his back like a koala. The asshole’s still laughing, the sound much closer to your ears now that you’re on him, and for some reason, you can’t stop the incredulous, yet amused scoff that escapes your lips.

“I hate you!” You shriek despite yourself, punching his shoulder repeatedly with one hand while your other arm clings around his neck.

“I noticed!” Younghyun is grinning from ear to ear as he glances behind at you. “Did you eat bricks, or something?”

You gape. “Put me down, then!”

“Never,” he replies, almost sing-songy as he slows down, only to start spinning you around like some deranged carnival ride. You squeak, squeezing your eyes shut as your arms tighten around his neck, while your chin finds his shoulder as you will yourself not to fall.

His laughter eases into something softer then, just as he turns his head to meet your eyes. You gasp softly at the sudden lack of distance between you both. You’re close— so close, that if you were to just lean forward, your noses would touch. You could make out the specks of brown that dances in his irises, though they’re no longer filled with the mirth you’ve gotten used to since you arrived a week ago.

No— because right now, Kang Younghyun is looking at you the way he did back then, with that quiet, unspoken tenderness that always made you wonder if he loved you.

“You okay?” He asks, quieter now.

You don’t answer immediately, only now realising that you’re not even spinning anymore. You loosen your grip on him, letting yourself slide down his back.

“What do you think?” You mutter. “I smell like actual shit.”

Younghyun chuckles, but he doesn’t tease. He stares at you for a moment before he reaches towards you, like he wants to move a stray hair off your face.

Like the way he used to.

But he pauses at the last second, and you see the way his jaw ticks before he drops his hand. And just like that— the easy smile makes its way back to his lips. Like nothing’s ever happened.

You don’t dwell long enough to wonder if he’s faking it or not.

“We should probably get back to work if we don’t want to get yelled at again.”

You narrow your eyes at him, talking as if this whole thing isn’t his fault to begin with. You opt to bite your tongue, glancing towards the shed instead.

You turn back to him. “Last one to reach the stalls scrapes cow poop off the wall.”

Younghyun startles. “Wait, what wall-“

But you’re already gone, kicking up mud in your wake.

You hear him shout out your name, that stupid nickname you claim to loathe so much, before his footsteps follow after you, deliberate and teasing. He’s not even trying to catch up to you, and you know it.

And for the first time since you’ve arrived here, you don’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of your chest.

✦ ✦ ✦

It takes a few showers to completely get the smell off of you, and by the time you’re done, you’re starving.

The house is empty, just like you had expected, but what you didn’t expect was for there to be no food under the food cover on the table.

You frown as you turn to the fridge, where a particular note catches your eye.

Preparing for festival. Come to the village hall if you’re hungry.

You’re seriously considering having sleep for dinner given how tired you are, but you’re also really famished, so that’s what eventually makes you drag your feet outside, not bothering to remove the towel from your neck as you trudge lazily towards the building a few houses down.

The village hall is dark as you near it, and you figure nobody’s inside and there’s probably just some leftovers for you in the communal fridge. You push the door open, and—

“Surprise!”

You nearly drop your towel.

The light in the living room flickers on, and you’re met with a crowd of familiar faces— including Younghyun who stands right in the middle, looking stupid with a party hat that’s far too small for him on top of his head. Someone sets a party popper too late, and the speaker screeches before blasting birthday trot music loudly. There’s even a banner with your name and a collage of your photos from when you were young to right before you left for university. And along the wall leading to the kitchen, is a long table packed with all your favourite dishes.

You blink, stunned. “I- what is this-“

“Your party, silly!” Grandma steps forward as she takes your hands into hers, smiling at you fondly. “Did you really think we’d forget our favourite granddaughter’s birthday?”

The tears are quick to pool in your eyes. “I’m your only granddaughter,” you manage to chuckle through a sob.

“Yes, but we’re not your only grandparents, are we now?” She motions to the elders behind her. “Go on.”

You barely have time to protest before you’re ushered away, pulled into a flurry of hugs and too many plates of food. You’re quick to get lost in the warmth of it all, though every so often, you still find yourself searching for the one person who demands your attention even in a room full of people.

And every time your eyes would meet across the room, he’d give you that same soft smile— the one that admittedly makes your chest twist a little.

It isn’t until much later when the laughter starts to die down and the crowd starts to thin do you slip outside the back door for some fresh air. It wasn’t like you were looking for him, but you’re still grateful to find him there, sitting on the steps, staring into the distance with a bottled drink in his hand.

Younghyun looks up, lips settling into an easy smile when he sees you. “If it isn’t the birthday girl.”

You don’t reply immediately as you sit next to him. “I didn’t think anyone remembered.”

He’s silent for a while before he replies softly, “I never forgot.”

Your breath hitches at his words. Younghyun chuckles under his breath before he inhales, looking at you. “Well, it’s not every day you turn thirty, huh? I know it’s probably different than how you would’ve done it in Seoul, but we make do.”

“I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed it in the city anyway.” You smile faintly, wrapping your arms around your knees as you hug them to your chest. You know Younghyun’s still staring at you, but you don’t look at him— not yet. “I … lost my job. Spent years flying all over the world, only to be grounded by age in the end. If you’d asked me a month ago, I would’ve told you I was miserable. But now that I’m here…” you pause to take a breath. “I guess thirty isn’t so bad when you’re surrounded by an ageing community.”

Younghyun laughs, even despite your poor attempt at a joke. It’s quiet for a while, but not the uncomfortable kind, until you feel him shift beside you.

You look at him as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bag.

You recognise it instantly from the small stall at the market a few days back.

“Happy birthday, Peach,” he says, handing it to you.

You’re stunned, and it takes you a while to accept it. The fabric is delicate in your fingers, and as you pull apart the string to open the bag, a necklace drops onto your palm, the delicate lilac charm catching in the moonlight.

“It’s really pretty…” You feel your throat begin to tighten, but you don’t cry yet. “What does this one mean?”

Younghyun laughs under his breath, looking back to the view. “You’ll figure it out.”

You scrunch your brows at his obscure answer, but before you could press, he’s already handing something else to you. “Here.”

It’s a book— a planner, it seems— the numbers 2015 embossed on the cover.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion as you flip it open. Inside the front cover, scrawled in fading ink is a small note:

For all the stories you’ll live out there. Write them down and don’t forget about here.

Don’t forget about me.

— Younghyun

“I was supposed to give this to you back then. Before- you know,” he trails off.

You blink, only for a single tear to drop on the page, right next to the words he’d written for you.

“I was stupid,” Younghyun continues quietly. “I thought hurting you would make it easier to let you go. But it didn’t,” he chuckles. “It only hurt me even more.”

You shut the book. “God,” you mutter, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. “God, you suck, Younghyun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathlessly, reaching out to brush his thumb gently against the moisture on your cheek. “I know, Peach.”

You laugh, but it comes out as watery. “You made me cry on my birthday,” you sniff, looking at him through your bleary vision. “You ass.”

Younghyun’s smile softens, and he shifts a bit closer. His hand lingers on your skin, like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t want him to.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, quieter now. “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

You didn’t need him to say more— not when the tremble in his voice is evident, like its holding the weight of the ache you’ve shared over the last ten years. For every silence, and for every what-could’ve-been.

And as you lean on his shoulder, his arm coming up to wrap around you, you start to feel at home again.

VIII. THINGS ARE SWEET LIKE SUMMER FRUIT.

The next morning, the air feels different.

Not drastically so. Younghyun still teases you when you trip over the uneven path outside your grandparents’ house. You still threaten to hit him with your sandal every few minutes. But there’s something between the both of you, something soft and unspoken, unsaid but understood.

You’re sitting on the pyeongsang behind the village hall, a stack of signboards between your legs as you work on painting the one on top. You’re relieved to get a bit of downtime after being roped off to help with harvesting earlier, while Younghyun had gone off the collect the tarps and poles from the old storage hut.

You haven’t seen him since then, though you’re sure he’s probably just around the back where the tents are being set up. You’re almost tempted to go take a look, bother him for no reason, maybe even trick him into getting you an ice cream from the convenience store.

You don’t even realise you’re smiling to yourself like an idiot until Grandpa appears.

“There you are!”

You look up, brows furrowing slightly to see that he isn’t alone. You don’t recognise the man next to him, but the thing that catches your attention instead is his suitcase, attached to it a tag with the words: FLIGHT CREW.

And judging based on the white dress shirt he dons, the shoulder tabs empty where a pair of epaulettes should be, you know who— or rather, what, he is—

“You’re a pilot,” you blurt.

The man laughs, though you could tell he’s slightly taken aback by your words. “I… yeah. Wow. I actually wasn’t expecting anyone to catch on.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I work as a flight attendant. Well, used to,” you quickly correct yourself. You wipe your hands on your pants before standing up, muttering out an apology for your lack of manners before introducing yourself meekly.

“This is Sungjin,” Grandpa says. “He’ll be staying over at the inn for a while. Thought I’d introduce you both since, you know, you have something in common.” Grandpa turns to him, patting his back. “You came at the right time, son! The harvest festival is taking place in a few days. I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”

Sungjin smiles, bowing his head politely. “If you need help with anything, please, let me know.”

“Ah, don’t be silly. You’re a guest! Though I’m sure my granddaughter would be more than happy to show you around, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

“I- of course!” You stutter slightly, not expecting for the conversation to be thrown back to you. “I do need to go to the market later. Why don’t you tag along?”

“That sounds great, actually.” Sungjin nods. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” You bite your inner lip to suppress a smile, though you don’t think it’s working very much.

Sungjin’s really handsome, and even from the short conversation you’ve had with him, you already know he’s effortlessly charming. It’s rare for Pyoseon-ri to receive visitors, let alone someone with a noble job like his.

“What’s got you smiling so prettily?” A new voice asks a few moments later, and you turn to see that it’s Younghyun.

“No one,” you mutter, before clearing your throat. “I mean, nothing. Are you done with setting up the tents?”

Younghyun shrugs, hands gripping the towel slung around his neck. “We’re putting up the lanterns tonight. Wanna come with me to the market?”

You gasp, a smile making its way to your lips as you set down your paintbrush, standing up eagerly. “Actually, yeah. There’s someone I want you to meet— I'll introduce you to him later. Pick me up at the inn in an hour, okay?”

“Him?” Younghyun echoes, but you’re already skipping back towards the village hall, blissfully unaware.

He watches you go, the warmth of your smile lingering even after you’re long gone. He exhales softly before turning back to the shed, though for some reason, he can't shake off the feeling of unease that’s beginning to bloom in his chest.

✦ ✦ ✦

Younghyun tightens his grip around the steering wheel.

You’re seated right next to him, knee bumping into his every time his truck goes over a hump, but even despite the lack of distance between you both, your attention isn’t on him.

It’s on Park Sungjin.

Younghyun hasn’t said a single word since he picked you and your new pilot friend up in his truck; he couldn’t, even if he wanted to. There’s an ease between the two of you— shared lingo, familiar gripes, jokes only people in the aviation industry would understand. It’s comfortable, natural.

And in the driver’s seat, Younghyun is anything but.

You’re laughing at something Sungjin had said, and the sound causes him to inhale sharply— not like he had meant to. But that must've caught the pilot’s attention, because he soon turns to him.

“What about you, Younghyun? Have you always been at the village?”

He could tell the question is genuine, but his lips still twitch in irritation. “Yeah,” he utters, keeping his voice level. “I did leave for a few years to do my masters, but now here I am.”

“You know, you never told me what you studied,” you pause before an excited gasp leaves your lips. “Was it music? You know, Younghyun’s really good with instruments.” You turn back to Sungjin. “Back when we were younger, he’d always have his guitar with him, even if it was just to go to the convenience store. It was so annoying-“ you laugh before your voice grows softer, “but everybody always looked forward to hear him play.”

Younghyun’s breath hitches at your words, though he’s not quite sure if it’s because you’d remembered, or the fact that he hasn’t heard you this animated since you came here.

You’re still turned towards Sungjin, cheeks flushed with laughter, and he watches the way you light up in a way he hasn’t seen— not for him, at least. Not like you did last time.

A flicker of something bitter coils in his chest.

“It was environmental law,” he utters curtly, knuckles paling as he squeezes the steering wheel again.

“Wow, really?” You sound genuinely surprised.

He chuckles dryly. “Why? Didn’t think I had it in me?”

“No.” You frown. “I just- wasn’t expecting that.” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you continue, “then… why did you stay?” You ask tentatively, as though unsure on whether your question would be deemed offensive or not.

Younghyun takes a beat to reply, but his words are sure. “Because Pyoseon’s my home.”

The ride is silent after that.

IX. YOUNGHYUN IS IN A BIT OF A JAM.

It seems like the harvest festival has gotten everyone’s hands on deck, because Younghyun hasn’t spoken to you in days. He’s seen you, of course, but most of the time you’re either busy helping out the grandmas in the communal kitchen, or out in the fields harvesting fruit as you giggle with Sungjin about God knows what.

Younghyun strikes down his axe with a little more force than necessary, the wood log splitting into two in one go. He just doesn’t get why Sungjin has to linger around, offering to help, but more importantly— why did he have to stick with you?

“Need help?”

Younghyun pauses, glancing over his shoulder to see that it’s the man himself, two cans of beer in his hands. He offers one— and because Younghyun doesn’t want to seem like an asshole— he accepts.

“So, is the harvest festival a big thing you guys do every year? Seems like everybody is involved.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Younghyun utters, tapping his fingers mindlessly on the rim before cracking the tab open. “It’s mostly out of tradition, not money. The elders have been doing it for years now.”

“I see. I like it, though.” Sungjin smiles wistfully. “The village spirit, I mean. You don’t really get to see that elsewhere.”

Younghyun hums, taking a sip of his beer for the mere sake of needing something to do. It’s not like he has anything against small talk, but it’s obvious from the get-go that him and Sungjin are worlds apart. That, and—

“You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Younghyun raises a brow before he chuckles, though he’s sure it comes off more sarcastic than amused. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, for starters, you always look less than thrilled every time I’m around. Even now, you’re gripping on to that can like you have a personal grudge against it.” Sungjin nods towards the can in his hand, which, true to his words, is being held in an iron grip. Younghyun relaxes his fingers.

“I’m just not too keen on newcomers,” Younghyun mutters under his breath, taking another swig from his drink.

“No.” Sungjin pushes himself off the wall behind him. “You’re just not too keen on me.”

Younghyun laughs humourlessly. To think that he thought he was being stupid for not liking the dude when he hasn’t done anything wrong— scratch that. He thinks he might actually hate the guy now.

“And it’s all because of a certain someone, isn’t it?”

He didn’t even need to say your name. The knowing glint in his eyes is enough.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” Sungjin continues lightly. He takes a slow sip of his beer, eyes still on Younghyun. “She’s easy to like.”

Younghyun’s jaw tightens.

Oh, he’s really starting to hate this guy.

“There you are!”

The sound of your voice causes Younghyun to look away first, breaking whatever staring contest he was having with Sungjin. You approach them with a smile, clearly unaware of the tension in the air.

“Can somebody help me lift the fruit crates? They’re heavier than they look,” you huff, brushing your hair behind your ear while your other hand stays on your hip.

You’re sure you’re looking a mess right now, your skin flushed pink due to the heat and your shirt clinging to your body with sweat. You’ve been on your feet since daybreak, and you think your limbs might just fall off if you so much try to carry something with your arms.

“I got it.”

“I’ll help.”

Both men say at the same time, and your eyes widen before you let out a chuckle. “Okay. Didn’t know I was so in-demand,” you attempt at a joke, but only Sungjin laughs.

“What can I say? It must be your lucky day.”

Your smile drops a fraction as you glance at Younghyun, who only looks away when your eyes meet.

He still hasn’t looked at you properly since your conversation with him in his truck, and you’re stuck wondering if he’s mad at you— that you’d crossed a line without meaning to.

You thought things were better now— they were supposed to be, because what the hell was that night on your birthday, then? Or that little moment you had at the farm?

Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe you’d been looking too much into it.

Or maybe, Kang Younghyun's still the same boy you knew from ten years ago— bad with words, and even worst with emotions.

✦ ✦ ✦

The three of you end up working side by side, but even then, you can't stop your eyes from drifting to Younghyun every now and then.

He's quiet, mostly keeping his focus on the task at hand and barely speaking unless he has to.

Now you know that something's definitely up.

You wait until Sungjin excuses himself to take a call before stepping closer. "Hey," you say softly, tentatively. "Can we talk?"

Younghyun glances over his shoulder. "Sure," he exhales before facing you completely, wiping his palms on his pants. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just..." you trail off, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you think of your next words. "The other day? In your truck. I'm sorry if I said something out of line. I never meant to make you feel like your choice wasn't good enough."

Younghyun tilts his head, almost in confusion as his brows furrow. "Wha- Peach," he sighs as he steps closer. "You didn't say anything wrong. Did I really make you feel that way?"

"I don't know." You shrug, averting your gaze. "I guess I just thought you were mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you. I could never be mad at you, Princess," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry. I worried you, didn't I?"

You meet his gaze again, and for the first time in days, it feels like he's really looking at you.

You bite your inner lip, and Younghyun's gaze softens. He doesn't hesitate before bringing his palm to your cheek, caressing your skin gently. "I'm just... figuring things out," he says quietly. "Don't think about it too much, okay?"

You're not convinced, and you're sure he could see through you, but Younghyun settles for a smile— soft, genuine, and unlike the teasing smirks he'd always shoot your way. You can't help but wonder if things really are changing between the both of you.

"Tomorrow," he continues softly. "Would you make some time for me? During the festival?"

You don't know why he even felt the need to ask. "Of course, Younghyun."

His smile grows wider then, but it still doesn't reach his eyes. "Then that's enough consolation for me."

You don't know what he means by that, but you decide to let it be for now.

Because maybe, you were wrong. As much as Kang Younghyun is still bad with handling his emotions, it didn't mean that he's still the same boy you left ten years ago.

Because this time, he's not pushing you away.

This time, he's finally trying.

And you're not going to let the same thing from before happen again.

X. BEFORE THE STORM IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH...

Lanterns glow overhead, casting the village in a warm haze. The air smells of sweet teok and grilled seafood, and as much as you’re tempted to help yourself to another round, the fireworks show is about to start, and you’re still yet to find the one person you’ve been looking for since the festival started.

You’re breathless by the time you spot Younghyun, over at the game booths where he’s currently competing in ball toss with one of the village kids. He’s looking far too engrossed and far too set on winning that he doesn’t even notice you, only doing so when the game ends and he turns to give the kid a high-five. The bright smile on his face grows softer then, and you step towards him.

“You couldn’t have let him win?”

Younghyun chuckles. “He’s twelve. He’ll be fine. You didn’t see me give him my prize?”

“I did. I just wanted to tease you.”

The soft smile is still etched on his lips as he gazes at you. Quietly, he says, “come. I want to show you something.”

You nod, letting him lead the way. The chatter and laughter of the crowd grow more distant the further you set out, and soon you’re surrounded by nothing but the occasional chirping of crickets and the sound of your own footsteps.

“You’re not kidnapping me, are you?” You ask warily. “At least let me watch the fireworks first.”

Younghyun laughs as he glances over his shoulder. “You’ll get your fireworks, Peach. I’m not that cruel.”

You roll your eyes, though it lacks any real bite. It’s dark out, making it difficult for you to actually tell where you are— that is, until the path you’re on starts looking a little too familiar, and you realise—

“The peach orchard?”

Younghyun nods with a proud grin. “I just thought it was weird we haven’t been here since you arrived. So I figured, why not tonight? For old time’s sake.”

You let out a short laugh as you step forward, taking in the scene before you. It’s still the same as you remember, with the four-seater swing under the oldest tree where you used to spend too much time eating peaches on, and the solar-powered garden lanterns that would only turn on at night lined along the pathway.

You turn to Younghyun to say something— anything, at that point— but the sudden series of whistles and crackles in the sky cause you to look up instead.

You marvel at the explosion of colours, streaks of red and gold sizzling at the edges before dissapearing into smoke.

“So pretty,” you murmur, mostly to yourself.

“The prettiest,” Younghyun replies just as quietly, and you turn to see that he’s already looking at you.

His gaze doesn't waver, not when the sky lights up again, not when the boom rattles around you. You wonder how long he's been watching you instead of the fireworks.

"You haven't changed," he continues. "You still light up like that when you're happy."

You heart thunders in your chest. "I- what do you mean?”

Younghyun smiles faintly. "Your birthday. The day at the farm. This moment right now," he exhales. "I've been holding myself back from saying it all this while, but I don't think I can keep doing that anymore."

Another burst of light reflects in his eyes when he finally turns to you fully.

"I never stopped loving you, Peach.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and when you see the way his eyes flicker to your lips, you’re sure you stop breathing completely.

Slowly, Younghyun leans in, his fingers reaching up to brush against your cheek. You don’t pull away, and the moment his breath hits your skin, you close your eyes.

But just as his lips are about to touch yours—

Your phone pings.

You flinch, hands fumbling to silence it. But Younghyun’s already glanced down, catching the name on your screen.

Sungjin.

He inhales sharply. It’s quiet, but you catch it anyway.

“We should head back,” he mutters, taking a step back. “Before somebody else notices you’re gone.”

“Younghyun, don’t do that,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I’m not letting you push me away. Not again.”

“I’m not pushing you away, I just-“ he pauses to sigh. “He likes you too, you know?”

“So?” You scoff. “Sungjin’s just a friend, and he’s literally leaving next week. It’s not like he’s staying here forever.”

“And you are?”

His question sounds simple, but it carries a certain weight you’ve been dead set on avoiding. You look away.

“I don’t know.” It’s silent for a while before you sigh. “He told me there’s an opening at his airline. I- I haven’t said yes yet, but-“

“But you’re thinking about it.”

You nod slowly. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“If it’s something you want.“ His eyes drift to the sky. “Then you should go for it.”

You remain silent as you search his face, trying to find a hint of sincerity. But his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and that tells you all you need to know.

“Do you want me to?”

“If it makes you happy,” Younghyun quips simply, like that in itself is enough— it isn’t.

You step closer towards him. “That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what matters,” he corrects you, and your heart twists. Because as much as he’s saying all the right things, you can see right through him— the ache he’s trying to swallow down.

And suddenly, it feels like you’re staring at twenty-two year old Kang Younghyun again, only this time, he’s not just letting you go— he’s bracing for it.

XI. PEACH BETTER HAVE MY HEART.

You ended up taking the job.

You didn’t tell Younghyun, but he found out anyway. Word spreads fast in the small village of Pyoseon— that, and that Sungjin had already told him, the day he was set to leave.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but I think you fucked up, dude," Sungjin muttered as he loaded his bags into the taxi. He turned to Younghyun. "But anyway, she already said no to me. Do what you will with that info." He smiled briefly, patting him on the shoulder. "I don't suppose you'd be up for a drink the next time I come here?"

Younghyun chuckled, and for the first time, there wasn't any hint of malice in it. "Have a safe journey, man."

And that led him to now, in his room, lying down on his bed as he stares at the ceiling blankly.

Younghyun knows he's in no place to blame you for not letting him know. After all, it was him who had run away like a coward— all because he was far too afraid to tell you that he wanted you to stay. Needed you to stay.

But who is he to do that? Who is he to stop you from chasing your own happiness? You'd left ten years ago and managed to make a name for yourself— that alone was evidence at how well you could thrive without having anything holding you back. Meanwhile, his masters degree is collecting dust somewhere in his drawer, all because he couldn't bear to leave the village and the people he calls home.

Maybe this is what it means to love someone. Wanting you to be happy, even if it doesn't include him.

But of course, what he doesn't know is that he's missed the point entirely— because there's no damn way you could be happy without him.

You stare out of the window blankly, the fields passing you by. You don't notice the way Grandpa keeps stealing glances at you as he drives, far too caught up in your own thoughts.

"He'll show up. Don't worry."

You turn to look at him. "Huh?"

"Younghyun."

You scoff humourlessly. "I highly doubt it."

"Even then, what seems to be the issue? You're finally getting back on your feet. Soon you'll be flying again, and you won't even remember it happened."

"I don't think I could ever forget him," you say quietly. "I never did. Even when I left ten years ago. Even when I kept coming back to visit and he wasn't around. Even when-" you pause, fiddling with your fingers. "Even when he hurt me. Pushed me away."

Grandpa sighs. "Did he ever tell you why he left?"

"Yeah? To get his masters."

"No," Grandpa chuckles. "Well, he did, but that wasn't all to it. Said he wanted to give it a try— do something new. Just like you did." He smiles wistfully. "So he took on environmental law. And he was good at it, you know? Until he came back and said it wasn't for him."

He shakes his head. "But I knew it wasn't his job he disliked— it was the system. He realised he'd be spending more time fighting paperwork than actually making a change, so... he left. Because in this day and age, where everyone wants to sell and modernise, someone has to stay behind and say no."

You swallow harshly. "I didn't know that."

"He never stopped talking about you, you know?" Grandpa glances at you softly. "About how much he admired you for going out there, living life in a way he never could've imagined himself to do."

You remain wordless, though your heart rings loudly in your ears.

He sighs then. "He never wanted to hold you back. A quiet life in a quiet town? That's Younghyun. But it isn't you, is it?"

"I could be." The words tumble out of your mouth before you could stop them, and when you turn to Grandpa, wide-eyed, he's already smiling at you softly.

"What's stopping you, then?"

Your pulse beats faster now, louder, and though your next words come out in a hushed whisper, you've never been more sure.

"Turn back around, Grandpa. Please."

✦ ✦ ✦

Younghyun isn't home by the time you reach his place. Grandpa's already left, and so that leaves you with no choice but to sit at his front doorstep— not like you even wanted to leave, anyway. You'd wait all night for him if you have to, just so you could scream at his face and call him stupid and then kiss him senseless. In that order exactly.

You don't notice how much time had passed— definitely far too long, that's for sure— as you tremble in the cold, fiddling with the charm of the necklace he gifted you; like doing so would give you some semblance of hope that he'd return.

And he does, hours later, his hair unkempt like he's brushed his hand through it one too many times, face sullen and eyes red like he'd been crying.

He spots you the same time you look up, and Younghyun stops in his tracks, lips parting.

"Peach-"

"You weren't even going to say goodbye?" You whisper harshly, getting to your feet as you step towards him until you were toe to toe. "I waited for you." Your voice trembles, and you know you're about to start crying. "I waited for you and risked almost missing my flight, but you never came. And then Grandpa told me we had to go, and I did, and then I told him I couldn't do it and asked him to turn back around and- and you weren't even home!"

Younghyun gazes at you silently before he looks to his shoes, exhaling shakily. "I went to the airport," he murmurs as he clenches his fists, knuckles turning white. "I thought- I thought you left. That I was too late. That I missed my chance to fix things again-"

"Then why do you keep doing that?" You question him exasperatedly. "After everything! My birthday, the fireworks— you told me you never stopped loving me. And you were just going to let me leave?"

"Because I knew you'd stay," he fires back, voice cracking. "And I didn't want you to drop everything just because I asked you to."

"God, Younghyun," you chuckle bitterly. "That isn't your choice to make!"

"You think I don't know that?" He exclaims, frustrated. "You think I haven't kicked myself for every second I spent not running after you?"

Younghyun clenches his jaw as he turns away, tears pooling in his eyes. "Ten years ago, I let you go because I was scared— scared that loving you from halfway across the country would wreck me. And maybe it would have. But watching you leave again, not because you wanted to, but because you thought I didn't care— that broke me worse."

You're quiet as you let your first tear fall.

"I didn't let you go because I didn't love you," Younghyun whispers, meeting your gaze again. "I let you go because I did. So much. And I didn't know how to hold on to someone whose dreams would always take her to anywhere else."

"That's why you didn't fight for me?" You ask quietly, shakily.

A humourless scoff escapes his lips. "I didn't think I deserved to."

"Idiot." A choked sob escapes your lips, followed by a short laugh as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand. "I love you too, you know?"

Younghyun gazes at you sadly through his own tears.

"Grandpa told me everything," you continue, lips still trembling. "The actual reason you stayed. And if you'd just told me—" you hiccup. "We could've figured something out. Anything. Because I don't think I'd be able to leave a second time knowing I'm not the only one still holding on," you pause. "Am I?"

"God, no." Younghyun runs a hand through his face. "Never."

"Then let's take this chance," you whisper, taking his hands into yours. "We've lost ten years already, so don't you dare push me away because you think you're not enough. Let me decide if it's worth it."

Younghyun chuckles softly, and he lets you reach up to wipe the moisture from his cheeks, still staring at you like you're the only thing that matters in his world. You are.

"I'm not staying for you, Younghyun. I'm staying with you. Remember that."

Finally, he pulls you in, and this time, Younghyun holds you like he's afraid you'd slip through his fingers again. You let him, clutching the back of his shirt like it's the only thing anchoring you to the ground.

"Okay," he murmurs, his lips brushing the crown of your forehead. "I don't want to run anymore. Not if you'd still have me."

"Stupid. Of course I'll still have you," you mumble against his chest before pulling back to look at him. "But you'd have to spend the rest of your life making it up to me."

He smiles, thumbs brushing the sides of your face. "I wouldn't dare think of doing otherwise."

And then, he kisses you, and it feels like a new life has been breathed into you once again.

It isn't loud, or overwhelming— just the steady beat of two hearts finally catching up to one another.

Home.

After everything, you've found your way home.

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